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In 1988, soon after graduating from Teachers College, Sayu Bhojwani was hired at Macmillan Publishers to work on the company鈥檚 prestigious Norton Anthologies series. For Bhojwani, a self-described introvert who鈥檇 majored in English, it was a dream job.

鈥淚鈥檇 spent my childhood with my nose in books, and now I could do that for a living,鈥� she says.

Her parents 鈥� immigrants from India who lived in Belize 鈥� were happy, too

鈥淭hey didn鈥檛 understand publishing, but they knew the name 鈥楳acmillan,鈥� and they felt I was going to be financially secure.鈥�

An hour after Bhojwani showed up for her first day of work, the dream abruptly ended. The human resources office took one look at her F1 visa, which is given to international students at U.S. academic institutions, and told her to go home. And just like that, she was done.

It would take several more years, a succession of jobs that ranged from 鈥渓ess than ideal鈥� to an appointment in City Hall, and, ultimately, a doctorate from Teachers College, before Bhojwani (Ph.D. 鈥�14) fully embraced a very different kind of life. But that morning at Macmillan clearly helped contribute to her dawning realization that, as she puts it in a widely viewed 2016 , 鈥渢he door that I thought was open was actually just slightly ajar 鈥� the door of America that would open wide if you had the right race, the right skin color, the right networks, but could just slam in your face if you had the wrong religion, the wrong immigration status, the wrong skin color.鈥� In a country she had thought of as her home, Bhojwani says, she had come to understand that she was among the 84 million immigrants or children of immigrants whose dream 鈥渕ust always be rewritten or repurposed.鈥�  

Knocking on the Door

Bhojwani鈥檚 own 鈥渞ewrite鈥� is another story entirely 鈥� one that grows more inspiring each November. In 2010, she founded the nonprofit (NAL), which recruits and prepares first- and second-generation Americans to run for elective office. Since then, NAL has trained more than 600 candidates, and this past fall, in races in New York, Arizona, Colorado and Michigan, 18 of them claimed seats in state assemblies, city councils and local school boards.

As Bhojwani explains in her highly praised book, , published in October by The New Press, NAL teaches candidates to do three things: tell their personal story to all types of voters; mobilize immigrant communities that historically lag in voter participation; and ask for money as an investment not just in campaigns but in communities.

For NAL alumna Catalina Cruz, who recently won a seat representing her neighborhood of Jackson Heights, Queens, in the New York State Assembly, 鈥渄emystifying the money鈥� was key.

鈥淭he psychology of immigrants and women of color is that you don鈥檛 talk with people outside of the house about financial issues,鈥� recalls the Colombian-born Cruz, a former top aide to a ranking member of the New York City Council and a longtime advocate for 鈥� Congressional legislation that would grant residency to millions of undocumented immigrants who, like her, came to the United States as children. (She has since become a citizen.)  

Prepped by Bhojwani and NAL trainers, Cruz says she ultimately raised nearly $200,000 鈥� enough to win a hotly contested September primary en route to becoming just the third DREAMer in the nation to gain elective office. 

Irvine, California City Council member Farrah Khan believes she became the first Muslim-American woman to win office in California鈥檚 historically conservative Orange County precisely because she embraced her identity and made it part of her core narrative. 

鈥淵ou don鈥檛 realize that the best connection you make with people is when you share with them where you come from and who you are,鈥� says Khan, who is also an NAL alumna. She now begins her speeches with the story of her arrival in the United States at Chicago鈥檚 O鈥橦are Airport, where she became so terrified by her first escalator ride that she let go of her mom鈥檚 hand. They were separated until a stranger saw that she was in tears and led her to safety.

鈥淚 use that as a pivot moment 鈥� when you see something wrong or that someone needs help, if you don鈥檛 step in and be the person who helps, what are we really doing in our lives?鈥� Khan says. Bhojwani, she says, has been that person for her and many others 鈥� 鈥渁 trailblazer鈥� who helps people navigate to where, politically, they need to go. 鈥淕oing through the whole process, she was someone that I could reach out to.鈥�

Acting from Necessity

If you ask Bhojwani how she reinvented herself 鈥� how she learned to hold trainings and mentor others; form partnerships with more than 34 organizations around the country; create a national advisory board; win backing from funders that include Coca-Cola, the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, the W.K. Kellogg Foundation and the Open Society Foundations; and speak at conferences around the world 鈥� her answer is, 鈥淏ecause I needed to.鈥�

鈥淢y family has included refugees, immigrants, people living under colonization, people who are undocumented,鈥� she says. 鈥淲e鈥檝e had all kinds of visas and all kinds of statuses.鈥� Both her parents were children in 1947 when Britain鈥檚 partitioning of India forced them to move over the border to Pakistan. Decades later, moving to Belize (then British Honduras) when Bhojwani was four, they again became British subjects 鈥淪o I embody many aspects of the immigrant experience, and all my work has been about creating a space where people like me can belong.鈥�

My family has included refugees, immigrants, people living under colonization, people who are undocumented鈥� I embody the immigrant experience, and my work has been about creating a space where people like me can belong.

鈥擲ayu Bhojwani

In Belize City, where her father opened a dry goods store, Bhojwani recalls that the mix of Hispanic, black, indigenous peoples and Indian immigrants ensured that 鈥渕y experience of the world was culturally and ethnically diverse, and that I understood diversity was a strength.鈥�

However, New York, where Bhojwani arrived in 1987 as a pre-service teaching student 鈥� the first of her three stints at Teachers College 鈥� stood in stark contrast. The city was reeling from the Central Park jogger case and the killings of black men by white mobs in Howard Beach and Bensonhurst. Bhojwani found herself questioning how non-white university students were perceived and taught. She completed her master鈥檚 degree, but, in something of a replay of her Macmillan experience, gave up on a teaching career after the New York City Department of Education declined to help her obtain a green card.  She was, by her own admission, 鈥渇loundering,鈥� when, in 1996, in the basement of a church in Queens, she founded an afterschool program called South Asian Youth Action, which offered academic and college support, storytelling, and other forms of identity affirmation to teens with ancestry in countries such as Afghanistan, Bangladesh, the Republic of Bhutan, Guyana, India, Nepal, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Tibet, and Trinidad and Tobago.

After five years, already mulling broader possibilities for helping immigrants, she enrolled again at Teachers College for a doctorate in Politics & Education. And then, on her first day of classes 鈥� September 11^th, 2001 鈥� the world turned upside down.

鈥淭he attacks sent shock waves through my community and changed the immigration landscape for decade to come,鈥� she says in her TED talk. 鈥淧eople were experiencing harassment at schools, workplaces, airports. Yong people I had worked with were being harassed 鈥� not just by classmates, but also by their teachers. My husband 鈥� then boyfriend 鈥� thought twice before he put a backpack on or grew a beard because he traveled so much.鈥�

At the Table

But there were other reactions, too. In the city鈥檚 elections after the attacks, voters approved a ballot initiative to create a new post, the Commissioner of Immigrant Affairs. Five months later, the new Mayor, Michael Bloomberg, appointed Bhojwani to the job. Her stint at City Hall was brief but eventful: She helped expand protections for undocumented immigrants living in the five boroughs, improved language access for non-English speakers and created new protections for domestic workers, who were predominantly immigrants.

Perhaps even more importantly, she learned two key lessons. The first was that 鈥渨ell-meaning New Yorkers in city government had no idea how scared immigrants were of law enforcement 鈥� that if you鈥檙e an undocumented parent, every day when you say goodbye to your child, you don鈥檛 know what the chances are that you鈥檙e going to see them at the end of the day, because a raid at your workplace, a chance encounter with local police, could change the course of your life forever.鈥� The second would become, in essence, the founding premise of New American Leaders: that 鈥渨hen people like me, who understand that fear and who have learned a new language and navigated new systems, were sitting at the table, we advocated for our communities in a way that no one else could or would.鈥�

When people like me, who have learned a new language and navigated new systems, were sitting at the table, we advocated for our communities in a way that no one else could or would.

鈥擲ayu Bhojwani

Clearly NAL has been making headway toward that goal, and it isn鈥檛 doing so alone: witness the elections this past year of Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the emergence of the Green Democrats, and other recent developments. Still, voter turnout remains low among Latinos and Asian Americans, and members of these two immigrant groups 鈥� the nation鈥檚 largest 鈥� hold only a tiny percentage of America鈥檚 500,000 state and local offices.

In People Like Us, Bhojwani offers new ideas for changing that picture, including that 鈥渂uilding civic infrastructure鈥� is just as important as recruiting and training potential candidates. 鈥淭here has to be something that creates vertical opportunities, she says. 鈥淭erm limits, public financing, single-member districts. Some of those factors have to be there or it鈥檚 difficult for somebody to get elected.鈥�

But she also believes that the roadblocks America has created to truly representative government will remain as long as immigrants are seen as 鈥渘ot quite American, or as appealing only to a base of voters who look like they look.鈥� Bringing about that change, she says, requires 鈥渁 strategic and cultural shift that neither Democrats nor Republicans have yet begun.鈥�

Thus far that shift has been more the work of educators than politicians, an idea Bhojwani may have in mind as she ponders her own future. She鈥檚 definitely thought about running for office herself, but isn鈥檛 sure she has a local base of voters to draw on, given that her work has been mostly national.

Also, she says, 鈥淚鈥檓 a super introvert 鈥� being with people all the time is exhausting, and at least right now I can shut it off. The electeds in our network have the hardest job. They鈥檙e on the front lines, twenty-four seven. I鈥檓 behind the scenes.鈥� She is content with that role and with spending time with her 13-year old. 鈥淢y biggest hero right now is my kid, who has a kind of fearlessness and purity of opinion that鈥檚 unfiltered by societal expectations.鈥�

You鈥檙e scared I鈥檓 going to take away your place at the table, and I鈥檓 scared I鈥檓 never going to get a place鈥�But I鈥檝e fought to be in this country, and I continue to do so.

鈥擲ayu Bhojwani

Maybe Bhojwani will yet become the scholar and teacher she once dreamed of being. Regardless, it seems clear that her goals will remain the same 鈥� and that she, too, isn鈥檛 going to pull any punches.

鈥淲e never know what putting a new factor in the equation will do,鈥� she says at the end of her TED talk. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e scared that I鈥檓 going to take away your place at the table, and I鈥檓 scared I鈥檓 never going to get a place at the table. But I鈥檝e fought to be in this country, and I continue to do so. I know there are millions of immigrants just like me 鈥� in front of me, behind me, all around me.

鈥淚t鈥檚 our country, too.鈥�

[Read more about Sayu Bhojwani, her work and her new book, People Like Us: The New Wave of Candidates Knocking on Democracy鈥檚 Door.]

— Will Bunch