On a Friday night in late February, an endless line of families streams
into San Jose's St. Julie Billiart Catholic Church. By the time I take
my seat towards the front, I'm looking out at a swelling crowd of more
than 650 faces, participants in a prayer vigil in support of
immigration reform. As people continue to squeeze into the church, and
a live band strikes up a raucous version of Bob Dylan's "The Times They
Are a-Changin,' " the electric energy brings to mind images of
African-American churches in the South during the civil rights
movement.
"Bastante gente," says a short and stocky man seated to my right, looking out at the crowd in amazement. Lots of people.
I learn that he's originally from the Mexican state of Oaxaca. "I'm
here to support my daughter," he says, motioning to the girl beside
him. Nancy Rodriguez Cruz, a 14-year-old high school freshman from the
nearby town of Gilroy, is nervously fingering a note card and
practicing her lines.
Thirty minutes later Nancy steps up to the microphone, following a
woman who spoke movingly about her fear that her undocumented husband
could be deported. By now, the audience includes the bishop of San
Jose, Patrick McGrath, along with representatives from Democratic
Congressmembers Mike Honda and Zoe Lofgren. As Nancy speaks, it becomes
clear that while her father is here to support her, she's also speaking
up on his behalf.
"My parents are my heroes--I don't know what I would do without
them," she begins, her voice cracking in an effort to fight off tears.
"Every morning I wake up terrified, thinking, 'What if my parents
aren't home when I get back from school?' Honestly, I don't think a kid
should be feeling that--they should be worried about their school
problems and their homework. And if God gave me my parents, who is
anyone to take them away from me?" After Nancy finishes her testimony
the crowd breaks into loud applause, and when she returns to her seat
she is met by her beaming father. "Very, very proud," he says.
In an age replete with Astroturf movements and manufactured media
events, it's unusual to come across a large political gathering without
a member of the media in sight. In San Jose I saw no laptops or
bloggers; I scoured the San Jose Mercury News
the following morning without finding any mention of the vigil. Indeed,
only Spanish-language media covered the event--one television channel,
one radio station and a small bilingual newspaper.
But it's this grassroots organizing--and there has been a lot of it
in recent months--that holds the key to the passage of comprehensive
immigration reform. The prayer vigil in San Jose was organized by
People Acting in Community Together (PACT), just one of more than 750
groups that have joined the Reform Immigration for America coalition.
"We have groups in almost every state," says Shuya Ohno, a coalition
spokesperson. Since launching last June members have organized more
than 1,500 actions and held hundreds of Congressional delegations. "But
there are so many other groups doing things on their own," continues
Ohno. "The amount of energy is incredible."
Not that it's the first time that bustling grassroots activity has
flown below the radar of major media outlets. In the spring of 2006,
millions of immigrants took to the streets to protest a draconian piece
of proposed legislation that would have turned all undocumented
immigrants--and those who support them--into felons. The marches, which
occurred in both major urban cities and anonymous rural towns, caught
many by surprise. The groundswell of anger was covered and promoted
heavily on Spanish-language radio, while mainstream outlets largely
ignored it.
Something similar could be at work today, as immigrants and their
allies mobilize from below. At this writing, organizers hope turnout
for the immigration reform rally on March 21 in Washington, DC, could
top 100,000, with unions, churches and community-based groups leading
the way. Obama has come under fire from advocates who fault the
administration for breaking its promise to move on reform in its first
year and for escalating deportations. The prospect of the march caused
the president to meet with senators Charles Schumer and Lindsey Graham,
who have been drafting reform legislation, and to hold a special
session with advocates, labor and church representatives. There's a
lesson here worth remembering: we didn't put a community organizer in
the White House--we put a former community organizer in the White
House. Like any president, Obama will move on issues when groups force
him into action.
It's easy to see why conventional wisdom would argue against the
likelihood of Congress passing immigration reform anytime soon. Obama's
critics point to the tortuous legislative process around healthcare to
argue that he tried to do "too much"--despite the administration's
cautious and compromising approach to that issue. Meanwhile, the
economy remains the central political concern, with official
unemployment at nearly 10 percent. Yet there are plenty of realpolitik
considerations that the push for reform has on its side--most
obviously, there is the growing political clout of Latinos, who will
certainly be paying attention to any political party that stands in the
way.
As for jobs, plenty of recent analysis points to immigration reform as
playing a positive role in jumpstarting an ailing economy. The Cato
Institute, a libertarian think-tank, issued a report last year
concluding that reform would add roughly $80 billion to the US economy
per year. In January, a USC-sponsored report estimated that the state
of California would take in an additional $16 billion annually by
legalizing the state's 1.8 million undocumented Latino adults.
It's also important for the reform movement to move beyond statistics
to tell stories that highlight the many benefits that immigrants bring
to real places. I recently spent two months in Russellville, Alabama, a
rural and extremely conservative town (for example, the sale of alcohol
was prohibited). In recent years, thousands of immigrants from Mexico
and Guatemala moved in--attracted by work in a poultry plant--bringing
new life into a county that had seen its population steadily shrink.
Vacant storefronts were cleaned up and reopened by immigrant
entrepreneurs, the plant was able to secure a steady workforce and
churches were bustling with bilingual services. "Latinos are
responsible for most of the revitalization," the town librarian,
Deborah Barnett, told me. "Before, everything was so deserted that we
didn't like having evening classes--it didn't feel safe."
Conventional wisdom, too, can change quickly. Put 100,000 people on the
ground in Washington, DC, for any issue, and elected officials and
political journalists can start redefining what is politically
possible. Representative Xavier Becerra framed the issue succinctly
while speaking to hundreds of immigrants at a rally in Los Angeles.
Becerra, who is a co-sponsor of the House reform bill introduced by
Luis Gutierrez, told the restless crowd, "They don't feel it in
Washington, DC, the way you feel it."
But a large march by itself won't deliver legalization for millions
of undocumented immigrants. In organizing there is a saying: what's
important is what happens the day after an action. So the day after the
march, members of PACT who are traveling to the capital will be meeting
with politicians and handing over more than 20,000 signed postcards,
calling for reform. As opposed to the marches in 2006, which were only
loosely coordinated by unions, churches and community-based groups,
this time around it feels more organized. Which is good, because when
immigrants and advocates return home from what will hopefully be a
large and successful march, the real work begins.