If We Don't Tell Our Stories, Who Will?

 I was invited to a governor’s meet-and-greet. My first instinct was, I don’t have time for this.

Then an activist friend sent me a note. She has a child with a disability, and she said something that stayed with me.., she said that small meetups or fighting for your rights at the local level doesn't always make enough of a difference. You really need to be politically active, make your voice heard, meet politicians, and help them understand the realities of our lives. That's the only way to create some waves and bring about real change. Her words made me pause. Maybe showing up was just as important as the work I was already doing. So I decided to go.

The co-host invited me as a community leader, and when I went there, I realized how unusual it is for Indians to be part of these kinds of events.

As I see it, only a very small percentage of the members in my group are even eligible to vote here. Some families have green cards, but most are on work visas.

People spend years—sometimes decades—with their lives revolving around visas, renewals, job changes, status changes, waiting for the next approval, waiting for stamping dates, rushing to India for visa appointments, all while managing demanding jobs and raising children with disabilities.

When I was talking to the governor, that's what I shared with her. With that endless cycle, worrying about aging parents in India, raising children with disabilities here, and simply trying to keep life together, the average Indian family barely survives. They don't have the time or energy to follow the political environment or become activists for social or political change.

That kind of involvement requires both time and inclination. But I think many immigrant families get stuck in day-to-day survival.

As I listened to the stories shared by families that day, none of them were from India. Yet every story sounded familiar. Their struggles were different in detail, but so similar to the stories I hear from our own families.

We all want a better world for our children. We ask for the support they deserve and a better quality of life. But what are we doing about it? Or perhaps a better question is: what can we do about it?

How do we make our voices heard? How do we help lawmakers understand our stories and remember this population—families who may not represent a large voting bloc today, but who deserve the same opportunity to live with dignity and support as everyone else?

I almost skipped that meet-and-greet because I thought I didn't have time. I came home wondering if, perhaps, this is exactly where our community needs to be—telling our stories before someone else decides they don't matter. 

A kosa silk for the evening. Wish I had taken more pictures.