😎👍🗽⚖️🙏🏽🇺🇸🍻🍽THANKSGIVING SPECIAL: BILL BOYARSKY: “SPECIAL REPORT: IMMIGRATION AND THE DUTY TO HELP” — How Universities, Clinics, & The NDPA Are Providing The “Practical Scholarship & Essential Humanitarian Leadership” That Our Government Isn’t! — I’m Thankful For Professor Eagly & All The Other Members Of the NDPA & The Round Table!

Professor Ingrid Eagly
Professor Ingrid Eagly
UCLA Law
Blogger, ImmigrationProf Blog
Picture from ImmmigrationProf Blog

Special Report: Immigration and the Duty to Help

From the UCLA Blue Print:

RESEARCH | FALL 2021 ISSUE
SPECIAL REPORT: IMMIGRATION AND THE DUTY TO HELP
“Bringing the university into the streets”
BY BILL BOYARSKY
ACADEMICS, UNIVERSITY STUDENTS and activists are creating an informal network reaching throughout California and beyond to seek justice for the more than 25,000 immigrants held in federal detention centers across the nation. It is eye-opening work and often distressing.
Members of the network struggle to penetrate the secrecy in which Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) shrouds its immigration centers, many located far from attorneys who might be able to help. When the network pierces the concealment, it often finds babies imprisoned with their mothers, random mistreatment by guards and an ever-growing backlog of cases awaiting hearings in immigration court.
“As a state university, we have an obligation to train students who will give back to the state, and immigrants are terribly important. Immigrants contribute greatly to the state,” Ingrid Eagly, a UCLA law professor who is part of the network, told me in a recent telephone interview.
Victor Narro, project director at the UCLA Labor Center and one of Eagly’s network colleagues, put it this way: “We are activist scholars, bringing the university into the streets.”
Championing justice is crucial now, when immigrants are arriving in California and throughout the United States in ever-growing numbers, and it will become ever more urgent as desperate newcomers — refugees hoping for asylum after President Biden’s end to the war in Afghanistan — attempt to enter the country. This is the immediate future of the battle over immigration, one that will shape the future of Los Angeles and the larger nation. It is far from settled.
A Washington Post-ABC News poll in early September showed, for example, general support for the resettlement of Afghans in the United States, after security screening. But granting them entry is likely to anger Americans bitterly opposed to immigration of any kind.
UCLA and beyond
UCLA is at the center of this informal network of professors, students and activists pursuing justice for immigrants. But it is hardly alone.
Immigration clinics at the USC Gould School of Law and Southwestern Law School send students into the community to represent immigrants in deportation hearings. Centers for undocumented students at California State University, San Bernardino, and other Cal State campuses provide gathering places for students and faculty, as well as on-campus locations from which activists can enter the community and fight for those fearing deportation. There are many such examples around the state.
As faculty director of the UCLA Law School’s criminal justice program, Prof. Eagly is deeply involved. She took her students to rural Texas to work with immigrants arrested by federal officers who accused them of illegal entry into the country. The immigrants were jailed by ICE officers after seeking amnesty at the border, or they were caught during raids on their workplaces.
The students went from familiar surroundings at UCLA to ICE’s South Texas Family Residential Center in Dilley, Texas, 70 miles southwest of San Antonio, where the company that runs the center for the federal government had been accused of treating the immigrants as if they were dangerous criminals. The students met with migrants from Guatemala, Mexico, El Salvador, Ecuador and Honduras.
The center is tantamount to a prison for families as they await hearings in which they try to convince an immigration court that they fled their countries because they had feared death or injury at the hands of criminal gangs or corrupt police. These hearings are called “credible fear” interviews. If the immigrants are not persuasive enough, deportation proceedings begin. Like most detention centers, the South Texas facility is far from the immigration lawyers and translators the immigrants need to guide them through the complex process. Among Guatemalans, for example, 22 languages are spoken.
Visiting the South Texas Center gave Eagly’s students a unique experience, she said. “They had deep concerns. We saw babies in arms being detained. We would hear about inadequate health care and mistreatment by guards.” Even though the observers were only law students, Eagly added, the fact that the inmates had any representation at all made a difference in the process and getting people released.
It was an intense introduction to a system bogged down in bureaucracy and shaped by years of hostility toward immigrants, extending through Democratic and Republican administrations. Democrats, fearing an electoral backlash, promoted laws increasing penalties for immigration violations. President Trump, elected as an anti-immigrant crusader, carried them to new extremes. The students learned that the backlog of cases awaiting hearings in immigration court numbered almost 1.4 million, according to Syracuse University’s Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC). Someone seeking a hearing at the Texas center could wait as long as 2.4 years, TRAC said.
When Eagly’s students returned from Texas, they recruited lawyers who would take immigration cases without charge and try to help immigrants through the legal maze.
UCLA SOCIOLOGY PROFESSOR Cecilia Menjivar and her students focused on the inequalities that immigrants found in the United States. For many, it was simply a continuation of the hard life they had left in Central America. “Because it is so difficult to access people in detention, we approached it through lawyers,” Menjivar said. “What we wanted to do was capture the everyday life in detention centers. We wanted to focus on what life is like in detention centers. We also interviewed immigrants who had left detention.”
Menjivar recalled visiting a detention center in Eloy, Arizona, about 65 miles southeast of Phoenix, to attend immigration court. “I had to go through three gates before entering the facility, first a barbed-wire gate, then two [more],” she said. “A guard accompanied me until I got to the courtroom. Six gates or doors [total] to get to the courtroom.
“Immigrants are often moved from one place to another. Lawyers may lose contact with them. Immigrants can’t be found, [are] moved to a different facility, sometimes to a different state. So families have to locate relatives.”
Studying the crisis
Narro, the UCLA Labor Center project director, told me about students venturing into Pico-Union in Los Angeles, where impoverished immigrants from Central America and Mexico crowd into apartments, making it one of America’s densest neighborhoods. Some of the immigrants try to find work in the food industry.
The students enroll in classes such as “Immigrants, Students and Higher Education,” taught by Labor Center Director Kent Wong. From these classes come academic studies like the center’s examination of the impact of robots on food workers. The studies, in turn, help shape legislation on the federal, state and local levels.

“Two summers ago, they did a project on gig workers,” Narro said. “We train students on how to survey workers. They interviewed gig drivers. They collected data and analyzed it, and the information was used by community activists.
“[In that way], the activists become scholars.”
Shannon Speed combines many of the attributes of scholars and activists. Speed is a professor of gender studies and anthropology at UCLA and director of the American Indian Studies Center. She also is a citizen of the Chickasaw Nation of Oklahoma.
The center brings together indigenous American Indian students with faculty, staff, alumni and members of the indigenous community. Its goal is to address American Indian issues and support native communities. It also acts as a bridge between the academy and indigenous peoples locally, nationally and internationally.
One of Speed’s accomplishments has been to lead a successful effort to have Los Angeles adopt Indigenous People’s Day, the largest city to do so. As director of the Community Engagement Center at the University of Texas in Austin, she was one of a corps of volunteers who inspected detention centers.
“We would talk [to immigrants] about how things were, what their needs were, how they came to be there,” she said. “Almost all had been kidnapped for ransom.” Now, Speed said, they had no idea when — or whether — they might be released from detention.
She collected some of their stories in a book, Incarcerated Stories: Indigenous Women Migrants and Violence in the Settler-Capitalist State. The subtitle reflects Speed’s thesis: that European settlers imposed a violent culture on Indians living throughout the length and breadth of South and North America, a violence that continues in the treatment of the indigenous people Speed grew up with and whom she and her students met every day.
“What the stories of indigenous women migrants make evident, above all else,” Speed wrote, “is their strength and resilience as they seek to free themselves of the oppression and violence that mark their lives.”
These are the lessons, learned in migrant communities, that students and their academic and activist mentors will take with them as the United States meets its ongoing challenge of immigration, with its newest confrontation: this one between those who approve of Afghan resettlement and those who do not.
There is work left to do: Even as Americans have voiced their sympathy for Afghans who helped U.S. soldiers fight the 20-year war in Afghanistan, the Post-ABC News poll shows that 27% of Americans oppose resettling Afghans here.
IN TOPICS: BIDEN CIVIL RIGHTS FAMILIES IMMIGRATION SANCTUARY TRUMP
TAGGED:IMMIGRATION, PUBLIC POLICY, UCLA

    • Bill Boyarsky
    • Veteran American Journalist & Author
    PHOTO: UCLA

BILL BOYARSKY
Boyarsky is a veteran journalist and author. He was with the L.A. Times for 31 years, serving as city editor, city county bureau chief, political reporter and columnist. He is the author of several books, including: “Inventing LA, The Chandlers and Their Times.”

Republished with author’s permission.

***************************

Thanks, Bill, for forwarding this great and timely article!😎👍

Courtside recently has highlighted the extraordinary efforts of other All-Star 🌟 Immigration Clinics at Wisconsin, Cornell, and George Washington.

https://immigrationcourtside.com/2021/04/25/%EF%B8%8Fndpa-news-superstar–clinical-prof-erin-barbato-named-clinical-teacher-of-the-year-u-w-law/

https://immigrationcourtside.com/2021/10/21/more-ndpa-news-immigration-guru-professor-stephen-yale-loehr-cornell-immigration-clinic-help-afghan-refugees-with-humanitarian-parole-requests/

https://immigrationcourtside.com/2021/11/19/%EF%B8%8F-of-course-great-lawyering-makes-a-difference-in-immigration-court-only-nativists-former-director-mchenry-would-bogusly-claim-otherwise/

These are just a few of the many law schools across our nation that have answered the call for due process and human dignity for all migrants in America!

I’ve made the point many times that Professor Eagly and other leaders of the NDPA like her are the folks who rightfully should be on the BIA, the Immigration Judiciary, and in the key “sub-cabinet” policy positions at DOJ & DHS. These are critical jobs that generally do not require the delays and inefficiencies associated with Presidential appointments.

I’m thankful for Professor Eagly, her students, and all of the other extraordinary members of the NDPA and the Round Table for courageously and steadfastly standing tall every day for due process for all persons in the U.S., regardless of race, creed, gender, or status! Also, as I always tell my students, I’m personally thankful: 1) that I woke up this morning; and 2) that I’m not a refugee!

Additionally, my condolences ☹️ to UCLA “Bruin Nation” 🐻 for the drubbing their (previously) #2 Men’s hoopsters took at the hands of #1 Gonzaga Tuesday night!🏀

🇺🇸 Due Process Forever!

PWS
11-25-21

🏀🏀FINAL FOUR RETRO: Back When Kareem Abdul-Jabbar Was Still Known As Lew Alcindor, He Was So Incredibly Great That The White Guys Who Ran The NCAA Changed The Rules To Stop Him — It Just Made Him Even Better! – And, He Never Was Afraid To Stand Up For Black America!

https://theundefeated.com/features/lew-alcindor-kareem-abdul-jabbar-ucla-boycot-1968-olympics/

Johnny Smith reports for theundefeated.com:

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is known as one of the greatest basketball players in history. During his 20-year professional career with the Milwaukee Bucks and Los Angeles Lakers, he appeared in 19 All-Star Games, won six championships and collected six MVP awards. In retirement, he has become a prominent cultural commentator and writer, a leading voice on the intersection between sports and politics. Recently, he published a memoir about his collegiate career at UCLA, Coach Wooden and Me: Our 50-Year Friendship On and Off the Court.

Fifty years ago he was the most dominant college basketball player America had ever seen. Between 1967 and 1969, he led UCLA to three consecutive national titles and an 88-2 record. Yet, his legacy transcends the game; in the age of Black Power, he redefined the political role of black college athletes. In 1968, when black collegians debated boycotting the Olympics, Lew Alcindor, as he was then still known, emerged as the most prominent face in the revolt on campus.

Why did Alcindor refuse to play in the Olympics? To answer that question we have to return to Harlem, New York, in July 1964, the first of many long, hot summers.


HARLEM, 1964

Basketball player Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (center), then Lew Alcindor, speaks at a news conference at the Power Memorial High School gymnasium in New York City.

DON HOGAN CHARLES/NEW YORK TIMES CO./GETTY IMAGES

The death of James Powell, a 15-year-old black youth from the Bronx, outraged Alcindor. On a sweltering July day in 1964, outside an apartment building on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, Lt. Thomas Gilligan, a white off-duty cop, shot and killed James, piercing the ninth-grader’s chest with a bullet from a .38 revolver. Conflicting accounts grayed a story that many saw in black and white. Gilligan, a 37-year-old war veteran, claimed that James charged at him with a knife, but bystanders insisted that James was unarmed.

Two nights later, on July 18, in the heart of Harlem, a peaceful rally organized by the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) turned into a march against police brutality. Demanding justice for Powell, hundreds of demonstrators surrounded the 123rd Street precinct, some threatening to tear the building apart “brick by brick.” Incensed by decades of racial profiling and violent policing, the angry crowd began hurling rocks and bottles at officers. Suddenly, a scuffle broke out and the cops rushed the protesters, cracking their nightsticks against a swarm of black bodies. In a matter of minutes, violence spread through Harlem like a grease fire in a packed tenement kitchen.

That same night, Alcindor, an extremely tall, rail-thin 17-year-old, emerged from the 125th Street subway station, planning to investigate the CORE rally. Climbing up the steps toward the street, he could smell smoke coming from burning buildings. Angry young black men took to the streets and tossed bricks and Molotov cocktails through store windows. Looters grabbed radios, jewelry, food and guns. The sound of gunshots rang like firecrackers. Trembling with fear, Alcindor worried that his size and skin color made him an easy target for an angry cop with an itchy trigger finger. Sprinting home, all he could think about was that at any moment a stray bullet could strike him down.

“Right then and there, I knew who I was, who I had to be. I was going to be black rage personified, Black Power in the flesh.”

For six days, Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant burned. The “Harlem race riots” resulted in 465 arrests, hundreds of injuries and one death. When the smoke cleared, Martin Luther King Jr. visited New York and encouraged black residents to demonstrate peacefully. But Alcindor, like many black youths, had grown impatient with King’s pleas for nonviolence and began questioning the direction of the civil rights movement. That summer, writing for the Harlem Youth Action Project newspaper, he interviewed black citizens who were tired of segregated schools, dilapidated housing, employment discrimination and wanton police violence.

The Harlem uprising fueled his anger toward white America and convinced him more than ever that he had to turn his rage into action. “Right then and there, I knew who I was, who I had to be,” he said a few years later. “I was going to be black rage personified, Black Power in the flesh.” Silence was no longer an option. In the future, he vowed, he would speak his mind.

. . . .

A few days after UCLA beat Dayton for the national title, the NCAA’s National Basketball Committee banned the dunk. The committee argued that too many players got injured stuffing the ball through the hoop or trying to block a player attacking the basket. Coaches were concerned, too, about players breaking backboards and bending rims. Curiously, the committee also claimed, “There is no defense against the dunk, which upsets the balance between offense and defense.” But the truth was that Alcindor threatened the sport’s competitive balance. He upset the balance between offense and defense.

Immediately, critics deemed the dunk ban the “Alcindor rule.” In a time of white backlash against black advancement, the UCLA star interpreted the rule through the lens of race. He could not help but feel like the lily-white committee had targeted him. “To me the new ‘no-dunk’ rule smacks a little of discrimination,” he told the Chicago Defender. “When you look at it … most of the people who dunk are black athletes.

. . . .

Not even the dunk ban could stop Alcindor from dominating the game. In fact, the new restriction made him even better. It forced him to expand his offensive arsenal and develop a devastating signature move: the “skyhook.”

He made it look so easy. With the cool confidence of Miles Davis, Alcindor transformed his game. The skyhook became an innovative expression of individuality and empowerment, a reflection of his intelligence and creativity, an active mind that could see the ball falling through the net like a raindrop the moment the leather sphere touched his fingertips. Over and over again, he pivoted toward the basket, extended his arm toward the sky and gracefully flipped the ball over the outstretched arms of any player who dared to guard him. “Of all the weapons in sports,” Sports Illustrated’s Gary Smith wrote of his skyhook, “none has ever been more dependable or unstoppable, less vulnerable to time, than that little stride, turn, hop and flick from far above his head.”

CLEVELAND, 1967

On June 4, 1967, at 105-15 Euclid Ave. in Cleveland, a collection of some of the top black athletes in the country met with — and eventually held a news conference in support of — world heavyweight boxing champion Muhammad Ali (front row, second from left), about Ali’s refusal to be drafted into the U.S. Army in 1967. News conference shows (front row) Bill Russell, Boston Celtics; Ali; Jim Brown and Lew Alcindor. Back row (left to right): Carl Stokes, Democratic state representative; Walter Beach, Cleveland Browns; Bobby Mitchell, Washington Redskins; Sid Williams, Cleveland Browns; Curtis McClinton, Kansas City Chiefs; Willie Davis, Green Bay Packers; Jim Shorter, former Brown; and John Wooten, Cleveland Browns.

BETTMAN/GETTY IMAGES

Alcindor refused to let the white world define him as a basketball player and as a man. He no longer considered himself a “Negro.” He was black and proud. As he became more politically self-aware, he identified with the most successful, outspoken black professional athletes in America: Muhammad Ali, Bill Russell and Jim Brown. He admired their political activism and their courage to confront white supremacy.

. . . .

Alcindor suddenly found himself at the center of a national controversy. Critics called him a disgrace, unpatriotic and much worse. If he did not play for the U.S. Olympic team, then UCLA should revoke his scholarship, they charged. Many white Americans opposed the boycott because they believed that sports were meritocratic and immune to racism. But their objections also revealed discomfort with assertive black athletes who challenged the power structure of American sports, a plantation culture that valued black bodies more than black minds. New York Times columnist Arthur Daley couldn’t imagine Alcindor thinking for himself and suggested that Edwards was exploiting the UCLA star’s fame for personal gain. “I think that charge is sheer idiocy,” Edwards told the San Jose Mercury News. “How can you manipulate anybody like Lew Alcindor?”

But Alcindor was his own man, and his revolt emanated from the deep history of African-American activism and the burgeoning Black Power movement on campus. What the sports establishment failed to recognize was that his experience in Harlem, his identification with Malcolm X and his connection to Ali had transformed the way he viewed protest, patriotism and American sports. How could he stay silent while police brutality, poverty and prejudice afflicted the black community? How could anyone expect him to represent the United States when the moment he confronted the nation’s racism bigots deluged him with hate mail and death threats? How could they expect him to love America when America didn’t love him back?

NEW YORK, 1968

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, then Lew Alcindor, sits on the bench at the UCLA-Holy Cross game at Madison Square Garden in New York City in 1968.

BARTON SILVERMAN/NEW YORK TIMES CO./GETTY IMAGES

Alcindor had made up his mind. He wouldn’t play for the USA. Although the boycott movement lacked widespread support and ultimately stalled, he and his UCLA teammates Mike Warren and Lucius Allen refused to attend the Olympic trials. His explanation, however, complicated his image as a Black Power hero. Alcindor said that if he participated, then he would miss class and delay his graduation, which was true, but only part of his rationale. He also told a reporter from Life magazine that he and his UCLA teammates “don’t want to get caught in the middle of anything.” He had principles, but discussing them publicly only brought more stress. It was much easier to distance himself from Edwards and the OPHR.

“Yeah, I live here, but it’s not really my country.”

In the summer of 1968, he worked for Operation Sports Rescue, a youth program in New York City. Leading basketball clinics, Alcindor mentored African-American and Puerto Rican youths, encouraging them to get an education. In July, he appeared on NBC’s Today show to promote the program. Co-host Joe Garagiola, a former professional baseball player, began the interview by asking Alcindor why he refused to play in the Olympics. During a heated exchange, Alcindor said, “Yeah, I live here, but it’s not really my country.” Then Garagiola retorted, “Well, then, there’s only one solution, maybe you should move.” It was a common reply among white Americans who demanded accommodation and gratitude from black athletes — a refrain that still exists today.

Alcindor’s comments echoed Malcolm X, who said, “Being born here in America doesn’t make you an American.” If black people were Americans, he argued, then they wouldn’t need civil rights legislation or constitutional amendments for protection. Alcindor recognized that while he was fortunate because of his basketball ability, he couldn’t celebrate his privileged status as long as racial inequality persisted. Only when black citizens enjoyed true freedom could he call America his country.

Although we remember the 1968 Olympics for John Carlos and Tommie Smith’s demonstration on the victory stand, Alcindor was the most famous athlete who avoided the games. More than any other college basketball player, he defined his times, proving also that black athletes could speak their minds and win. No one could tell him to shut up and dribble.

Professor is the Julius C. “Bud” Shaw Professor of Sports, Society, and Technology and an Assistant Professor of History at Georgia Tech. His research focuses on the history of sports and American culture. He is an author whose books include “The Sons of Westwood: John Wooden, UCLA, and the Dynasty That Changed College Basketball,” which explores the emergence of college basketball as a national pastime and the political conflicts in college athletics during the 1960s and 1970s.

*************************************

Read Professor Smith’s full article at the link. Not only is Kareem one of the greatest basketball players ever, but he has established himself as an informed, articulate, and committed social commentator. I never saw Kareem play in person during his days with the Milwaukee Bucks. But, Cathy and I once were fortunate enough to see him “live” as a contestant on “Celebrity Jeopardy” at DAR Constitution Hall in Washington DC, ironically a venue where he once would not have been welcome.

PWS

03-31-18