Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Redistribute your stimulus.

On March 11th, President Biden signed the American Rescue Plan into law. Among its provisions was a $1400 stimulus which most of us have already received. This check was only the third direct federal payment to Americans since the beginning of the pandemic. With four in ten households reporting lost wages due to COVID (CBS) and millions of tenants thousands of dollars behind in rent (Time), those $1400 came not a moment too soon.

Happy Monday everyone, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily! A couple people asked how they could pay their stimulus forward to those that are unhoused, based on the action items in that newsletter from last week. I realized that, although I posted some options on Instagram, that we never outlined the inequities on the stimulus distribution in full. Andrew joins us today to walk through the details.

If you don't have the funds to give right now, or if you're in need, bookmark the resources provided below. Redistributing capital – either by taking or receiving – is powerful not just now, but any day throughout the year.

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Nicole

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

By Andrew Lee (he/him)

On March 11th, President Biden signed the American Rescue Plan into law. Among its provisions was a $1400 stimulus which most of us have already received. This check was only the third direct federal payment to Americans since the beginning of the pandemic. With four in ten households reporting lost wages due to COVID (CBS) and millions of tenants thousands of dollars behind in rent (Time), those $1400 came not a moment too soon.

For many, the sense of relief was palpable. Others found their feelings tinged with bitterness because Biden had declared in January that $2000, not $1400, stimulus checks were coming (CBS). After months of isolation and economic crisis, however, something was certainly better than nothing. 

It’s important to remember here that nothing is precisely what millions of people living in the United States received. Though the $1400 stimulus payments were widely distributed, they were not universal. And those who missed out were those with the least resources and social power to begin with. 

Only citizens or legal residents were eligible for the stimulus check. International students and teachers on J or Q visas did not qualify for the $1400 payment. Nonresident aliens who file taxes with an Individual Taxpayer Identification Number instead of a Social Security number did not qualify either (Forbes). Every undocumented immigrant working in this country missed out on the stimulus check, as well (Huffington Post). Though Biden campaigned on a promise to “welcome immigrants in our communities,” his American Rescue Plan consciously blocks millions of immigrants from receiving economic relief in a time of unprecedented hardship (Biden Harris).

Incarcerated people were technically eligible to receive the third stimulus check (CBS). But they faced a number of obstacles in actually receiving their rightful stimulus money. First, they had to acquire the forms to apply for the stimulus, which was impossible for inmates such as those in solitary confinement. In other cases, forms mailed to incarcerated people were seized by prison staff (Marshall Project). Finally, some people received stimulus payments – only to have part of the funds withheld by the prison in which they are incarcerated as supposed “payment” for imprisoning them. The United States has just 5% of the world’s population but locks up nearly 25% of its incarcerated people (ACLU). Many of them are effectively blocked from receiving their full stimulus check. 

Even for unincarcerated people with Social Security numbers who ought to be receiving checks, not all stimulus payments are created equal. Weeks, after other people received their money, Social Security and Veterans Affairs benefit recipients were still waiting (Newsweek). And in a country where the average person is tens of thousands of dollars in debt, people with unpaid medical or credit card bills could have their stimulus checks garnished by debt collectors (CNBC).

The wide disparities among stimulus eligibility reflect deep divisions in American society. There are somewhere between 10.5 and 12 million undocumented people in the United States (Brookings) and 2.3 million people in prison (Prison Policy Initiative). Some undocumented people are not adults. Some people in prison may receive their full stimulus despite the hurdles place in their way, and it’s hard to say how many nonresident visa holders may have left the country in recent months. However, given these numbers, it’s not absurd to think that there might be 8 or 9 million people in this country who miss out on the stimulus payment purely because of their immigration status or incarceration. That’s roughly the population of New York City. 

If each and every New Yorker missed out on a $1400 check the government sent to everyone else, we would all recognize the injustice of the situation. Incarcerated people and immigrants do not experience the pandemic and recession less than anyone else. On the contrary, prisons and jails are hotbeds for COVID-19 (CNN), and immigrants are more likely to be exposed to infection as essential workers (fwd.us). 

Many Americans who received the stimulus check used it to pay outstanding debts or buy household necessities. About 19% were able to put most of it in savings (CNBC). Others looked into how they might invest their stimulus in stocks or financial instruments to reap future profit (The Motley Fool). 

If you were one of the stimulus recipients with enough financial security to use it for savings or investment, consider donating that money in whole or in part to people who received no stimulus at all. By practicing mutual aid and demanding more for oppressed communities, we can not just fight against the inequities that have emerged with COVID but also work to create a society better than the one we had before the pandemic.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • Millions of people in America missed out on their stimulus checks.

  • Though eligible, incarcerated people face severe obstacles to actually receiving their money.

  • Undocumented immigrants and many visa holders received nothing. 

  • Those who missed out on stimulus checks included groups with some of the least social power and wealth to begin with.

  • Instead of saving or investing, people with resources who don’t need their stimulus checks can instead redistribute their money to those who received nothing.

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Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza

Seek solidarity, not charity.

Throughout 2020, more of us have heard about mutual aid than ever before. After COVID-19 started affecting people’s livelihoods, mutual aid networks popped up like never before—with new networks likely in the thousands (Sustainable Economies Law Center). The uprisings after George Floyd’s death also accelerated mutual aid; groups quickly came together to feed protesters (Eater), post bail (Chicago Community Bond Fund), and provide support in many other ways.

But the concept of mutual aid is much more deeply rooted than the simple act of Venmo-ing $15 to a stranger on Twitter.

Happy Tuesday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Our email from last week on billionaire philanthropy was a hot topic; many of us were inspired to reflect more on how giving can skew our perception of change. Today, Jami is back with a broader look at charity and how it can help fuel inequitable systems.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily. We send one email each day with tangible ways to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also give monthly or annually on Patreon. If this email was forwarded to you, you could subscribe at antiracismdaily.com.

ps – the early bird readers received an email yesterday with some major typos. I think I sent a draft, not the final email by accident. A revised version was sent later and updated on our website. My apologies!

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

  • Get involved in the existing mutual aid networks in your area. Scroll down to the exhaustive, state-by-state list of resources at Mutual Aid Disaster Relief, or simply Google “ your city+mutual aid.” (Many of these networks appreciate non-financial support as well!) 

  • Evaluate what kinds of groups, organizations, or people you’ve given money to in the past. How did you evaluate whom to give to? Has the white savior complex infected your giving philosophy? 

  • Research the organizations you support. How do they stack up against Dean Spade’s chart on mutual aid vs. hierarchical charitable programs?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Throughout 2020, more of us have heard about mutual aid than ever before. After COVID-19 started affecting people’s livelihoods, mutual aid networks popped up like never before—with new networks likely in the thousands (Sustainable Economies Law Center). The uprisings after George Floyd’s death also accelerated mutual aid; groups quickly came together to feed protesters (Eater), post bail (Chicago Community Bond Fund), and provide support in many other ways. 

But the concept of mutual aid is much more deeply rooted than the simple act of Venmo-ing $15 to a stranger on Twitter.

“Mutual aid consists of the collective actions it takes to support community wellbeing and reaffirm that all lives have inherent value. We all have needs and we are all capable of helping each other to fulfill some of these needs. This approach is distinctively egalitarian and rooted in reciprocity and agency.”

"What is Mutual Aid? A Primer" by the Climate Justice Alliance.

One of the core tenets of mutual aid is the idea of solidarity, not charity. Solidarity involves collectively working together to solve the root causes of structural inequity, as trans activist and scholar Dean Spade outlines in a chart comparing mutual aid to nonprofits (DeanSpade.net). 
 

Meanwhile, the charity philosophy possesses an “inherent imbalance; it moves resources from places of abundance to places deemed as needy, a deficit-based perspective instead of one based on the values and abundance already present within communities” (Climate Justice Alliance). 

The concept of mutual aid (if not the specific term itself) has been practiced for generations, particularly among Black and Brown communities and immigrant populations. In the 1780s-1830s, Black “benevolent societies” developed in the northern states, wherein Black people— many previously enslaved— supported each other through voluntary cooperation (The Massachusetts Review). As documents from the era show, the “earliest mutual assistance societies among free blacks provided a form of health and life insurance for their members—care of the sick, burials for the dead, and support for widows and orphans” (National Humanities Center). 

Mutual aid is also central to many Indigenous cultures and economies, as the founder of the First Nations Development Institute explains in an interview for Yes! Magazine. Other historical examples of mutual aid include the mutualista societies that Mexican immigrants brought with them to Texas and the Black Panther free breakfast program (Sustainable Economies Law Center). I think of how, a couple years after my grandfather was released from a Japanese American incarceration camp, my grandfather ran out of money during a cross-country bus trip. He had to live in a Chicago bus station for a few weeks until he ran into a guy he’d known in camp, whose mother let him live in her boarding house rent-free for six months. 

For many of these Black and Brown and immigrant communities, mutual aid was not— and is not— a philosophical choice, but an act of “resilience and defiance, practiced out of necessity in the face of inequitable access to basic needs” (Sustainable Economies Law Center). Such communities often get overlooked by dominant aid structures. Grassroots projects dedicated to queer and trans Black and Brown people, for example, often don’t have enough funding because money gets funneled to bigger nonprofits that leave those communities behind (Zora).

Believing in the mission of mutual aid requires us to reflect deeply on our actions and our beliefs. It’s not just a matter of choosing what kind of people/organizations/projects we give our money or time to. It’s a matter of how we think about it. It’s easy for us to fall into the trap of white saviorism, for us to think we know better than the people we are giving to, for us to elevate ourselves higher while ignoring structural problems. As Teju Cole writes in his illuminating article in The Atlantic:

“The White Savior Industrial Complex is a valve for releasing the unbearable pressures that build in a system built on pillage. We can participate in the economic destruction of Haiti over long years, but when the earthquake strikes it feels good to send $10 each to the rescue fund. I have no opposition, in principle, to such donations (I frequently make them myself), but we must do such things only with awareness of what else is involved.” 

Many nonprofits function on the idea of charity, utilizing a hierarchical structure that keeps the power in the hands of the givers. They decide who is deserving and what they deserve. As Jennifer Seema Samimi explains, the “separation of social justice and social service provisions has silenced the people most directly affected by issues of injustice, and it privileges educated employees and board members of nonprofits” (Columbia Social Work Review). On the other hand,  the mutual aid framework focuses on keeping social justice at the center while empowering those most directly affected. 

When we redistribute funds, we need to remember our own position. Remember that “charity can do more harm than good because often people outside of the community dictate what the community itself needs, rather than based on what the community itself knows it needs” (Climate Justice Alliance). Believe in everyone’s own self-determination. Believe in the strength of solidarity and our own collective power. 

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • The concept of mutual aid has been practiced for generations, particularly in Black and Brown communities and immigrant populations often overlooked by other governmental and nonprofit aid. 

  • One of the core tenets of mutual aid is the idea of solidarity, not charity. Solidarity involves collectively working together to solve the root causes of structural inequity. 

  • Many nonprofits function on the idea of charity, utilizing a top-down, hierarchical structure that keeps the power in the hands of the givers. 

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More