Last week, I was packing to leave for my 72-hour staycation when my phone rang. I kept packing because I was exhausted and ready to check out from the daily grind. A few minutes later, I saw a text notification and figured I should check it, since most people close to me know that texting is the best way to reach me. It was a message from a community member of color who owns a business in Portland, telling me that ICE had snatched two of his employees and asking if he could speak to me.
This particular community member owns a business that I adore, and we share a common friend—someone who is like family to me—so despite it being a Sunday, me being eager to finish packing, and getting dressed so I could leave for my desperately needed time away…I decided to immediately return the call.
Seems the frozen water gestapo doesn’t rest on Sundays, and they snatched an uncle and nephew early that morning. I was asked what resources might be available to assist them and I explained that—despite what is out on social media—there really aren’t a lot of rapid-response resources but I would reach out to Project Relief, a Black immigrant-led group of community members who since 2020 have been helping community members in need (since I knew that the most important resource would be legal assistance).
I reached out to Project Relief and received a call back from one of their lead organizers who told me point-blank that they could definitely assist with a referral for legal representation but if funds were needed to obtain legal representation, that might be way harder. You see, the rates that immigration lawyers in the area are charging have gone up with the nonstop detentions and need for legal representation. When someone in Maine is detained, a lawyer is needed for the bond hearing, and the initial retainer has increased from $3,000 to $5,000.
Furthermore, Project Relief is now averaging five to six requests for assistance weekly, which is $25,000 to $30,000 a week in assistance. Mind you, Project Relief is not a 501c3 non-profit with funds. It has become a fiscally sponsored project so that its donations are now tax deductible, but they have no guaranteed funding mechanisms. Project Relief uses social media and community connections to assist people. That’s it. They have no paid staff; everyone who is part of Project Relief is a volunteer. In the case of the lead organizer who I was on the phone with, she works two jobs to survive on top of being a part of Project Relief and hustling to assist people. She was telling me how they are being overwhelmed with requests far outside of their scope for transportation and living expenses and how they are exhausted. Their lead organizer is also dealing with health issues but can’t bear to pause the work because of how important it is—but she is reaching her breaking point, I’m sure.
As an elder community member, I am honored that she knew she could be honest with me about what is going on behind the scenes and my heart was breaking over the call. A large part of why I had to take the month of August off and was actually going away for a few days was because of hitting my own breaking point, physically and mentally. I texted back and forth with my friend while I was on the phone and learned that he was willing to try to secure funds to obtain legal representation for his employees and that legal referrals were fine for the moment. Last I heard, legal representation is in process.
However, all week, even while I was away, my mind couldn’t stop thinking about how if the collective “we” are going to assist and support community members and push back on what is happening in our communities and country…well, it has to be a group project.
Too often, in recent months as the economy goes south and the cruelty intensifies, I hear regularly from people saying they are limited in what they can do when it comes to material resources. Individually, many of us may be increasingly limited and yet if we come together within our local communities, we can do something.
I live on a small island off the coast of Maine in Casco Bay. For the last year, there has been a group of local women on the island who have been getting together to make and sell ice cream sandwiches at island events. Until a few weeks ago, I had heard about the group’s efforts but never seen it in action. But they had set up shop near my front door, so I went to check them out and, well, it made me think about the power of coming together.
With a literal cardboard sign attached to their mobile set-up, that declares they are defending democracy and protecting human rights, in two summers they have raised well over $10,000 selling homemade ice cream sandwiches. They donate the proceeds to several groups in Maine: Immigrant Legal Advocacy Project (ILAP), Mainers for Humane Immigration and Presente! Maine. All three are organizations doing amazing work in the community. My only suggestion is that they consider including Project Relief because despite not being an official non-profit, they have built a solid track record of assisting and working in the community.
When I went to buy a few ice cream sandwiches, the group explained their process. Everyone gets a task and everyone contributes to the process, meaning that for less than $15 a person and a couple hours of work here and there, they are making a difference. Given that Portland, Maine, now has an ALDI grocery store, fixings to make ice cream sandwiches are also more affordable. At the same time, these women are making a difference and building their hyper-local community by working with like-minded individuals.
Their group effort made me think of a few groups that support my work as a unit; rather than doing individual monthly contributions, they pool their members’ resources and make one sizable annual contribution to BGIM Media and I create links so that each individual in that group has access to my work on Patreon that is behind a paywall.
The folks on the front lines are tired. These are extraordinary times and the helpers need help—and they need people who are willing to think outside the box. Some people truly are not able to offer much but many of us can spare a few hours in a month and a few bucks. While a $5 or $10 gift may not seem like much, as the ice cream sandwich makers of my island illustrate, small contributions can be a part of creating something much larger.
American individualism is so entrenched in our culture that for many, the idea of sacrificing beyond our comfort zones is not something we can wrap our minds around. Also, American individualism assists the bad people in destroying this country because they know most of us are not going to willingly break rules and probably won’t kickstart the next chapter with open revolt. They know that despite what we post and share online, most of us are not going to endanger our daily bread because we have to “survive,” but what is survival in a country where you can’t even trust that the food you are eating is safe? What is survival when your every step is being monitored? What is survival when you live in fear?
Yet right now, there are people who are pushing beyond their limits to make a difference and despite our sense of despair and overwhelmed thoughts—and maybe even desire to disconnect from the overall awfulness of the moment—the helpers are who we should look to. The ones that we should push a little harder to support. Maybe we can’t make ice cream sandwiches or work two jobs and volunteer on top of our workload but what we can do is search ourselves and see what we can do instead of focusing on what we can’t do.
As summer draws to a close soon, maybe we can pare down our home clutter and hold yard sales and donate part or all of the proceeds. If our material needs are still being met, and we do have enough, maybe as gift-giving season approaches, we can ask for less stuff and instead have donations made to those who are on the front lines or those who are keeping us informed and our spirits intact. If we truly do not have access to material resources, do we have skills we can donate to resistance and support efforts?
In a recent Substack piece, I touched upon what is happening with the wild horses in this country and how they are being targeted as yet another of the innumerable machinations of the Heritage Foundation, which published Project 2025. Folks, Project 2025 is more than halfway completed less than two years into a four-year presidential term, and it would behoove us to read it or revisit it and decide where we can put our efforts. By all means, vote in the midterms, keep writing and calling elected officials, and whatever else. But realize that what has been done in this country will require more than control of the Senate to push back. It will take as many of us as possible doing something beyond just reading and sharing information. For me, it is that knowledge that keeps me helping when all I want to do is rest.
Growing up, I spent a lot of time around my cousin George. Cousin George was my Dad’s favorite nephew, who was a woo-woo kind of person, long before woo-woo was part of our collective vernacular. He was a veteran who believed in the metaphysical and adored Star Trek, and whose outlook on life was cloyingly bright despite losing his only child to sickle cell anemia at five. George used to always say: “What is this talk of cannot do?” In recent weeks, I find myself leaning deeply into that philosophy, because while no one cares for toxic positivity, the fact is if we can’t find any hope for a future, then the bad guys win.
If we only focus on how bad things are and see ourselves as hopeless and unable to do anything, well: They win. But if we can break down what we can do into manageable bite-size pieces, well then we do have hope. Hope is the lamp that we need to light our path forward.
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