Assemblymember Al Muratsuchi’s District Office is a small, cozy space. It has gray carpets, gray walls, cluttered cabinets, and desks made of a rich, dark brown wood. Its layout is open, inviting. The interns’ desks (of which there are four) are nestled together on the left in a close-knit group, while the staff members are gathered in the middle and on the right, behind floor-to-ceiling windows of smooth, clear, tempered glass. Their doors are almost always open, with bits and pieces of laughter and conversation floating in and out all throughout the day. In the midst of your work, you might overhear two co-workers talking about their favorite Tarantino films (or unfortunate lack thereof), or you might feel compelled to call out through an open door to ask the District Director about her particular taste in Asian cuisine. There’s an unmistakable sense of connection in such a small place, where the total number of people never exceeds six or seven and most of the barriers between the various workspaces are see-through, easily overcome by quick footsteps or a slightly raised voice.
Walking into this office for the first time, I was surprised by its smallness and calm, mellow atmosphere, but after my first week of working there, I’ve grown appreciative all the same. Because those very attributes are what provide me with opportunities to get to know the people I work with. I was able to swap stories with my District Director about our origins and ethnic backgrounds. I was able to give advice to my fellow interns about college applications and extracurricular activities. I was even able to pet a staff member’s dog each day I came into work because he routinely wanders over to the interns’ desks seeking scratches and belly rubs (I’m now one of his proud “girlfriends”).
And already, I’ve begun to reap the benefits of this closeness and camaraderie. On June 27, 2023, my first day at the Torrance district office, one of the field representatives informed me of a Town Hall meeting hosted by the Mayor of Torrance scheduled for that very evening. Though it was last minute, he, and my intern supervisor, encouraged me to attend, even allowing me to leave a bit early for the day so that I wouldn’t miss too much of the event. Arriving there quietly, I slipped into the council room and gingerly picked my way to an available seat in the middle of a row on the right side, behind a group of people with rainbow flags on their shirts and in their hands. Throughout the meeting, I sat fascinated as I watched individuals step up to the podium to talk about issues they hold close to their hearts, from homelessness to the maintenance of wilderness to supporting small businesses.
A citizen of Torrance stepping up to the podium to discuss homelessness and the progress of 3290, a homeless shelter in Torrance meant to help people acquire permanent housing through subsidized income and mental health services.
During the public comment section of the Town Hall, the people in front of me, the ones with rainbow flags proudly emblazoned on their shirts and tightly clutched in their hands, were the very first to take advantage of the opportunity to speak their minds. Through words that were forceful, yet eloquent, passionate, yet precise, they articulated to the entire gathering their distaste with the current Torrance city government. Specifically, they emphasized their intense disapproval of the fact that June had not been declared Pride Month in Torrance for the first time in several years, negatively impacting the safety of LGBTQ+ visibility and expression. What I found particularly interesting and compelling about these activists’ arguments were that they compared the struggles and oppression of the LGBTQ+ community to the struggles and oppression of the AAPI community, while also bringing in how the Mayor of Torrance had been rather vocal about AAPI empowerment and representation. “LGBTQ+ people and AAPI people are similar in that they’re both marginalized and discriminated against,” I remember one activist saying, “Supporting only one of these groups is nothing but performative justice.”
An LGBTQ+ advocate giving a public comment during the Torrance Town Hall.
While listening to this public comment, I thought about our time with Dr. Raphael Sonenshein, and how he talked about minority groups working together to enact change. I thought about some of my best friends, people I’ve known my entire life, and how they’re also part of the LGBTQ+ community. I thought about the intersectionalities between different marginalized identities, and how advocacy for only one or the other necessitates the alienation of people who subscribe to both.
I walked into the office the next morning, determined to seize even more opportunities to experience the world of tensions between advocacy and governance.
The views and opinions expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not reflect the views or positions of CAUSE or the CAUSE network.
Written by Meghna Nair, Leadership Academy 2023 Intern.
The CAUSE Leadership Academy (CLA) for students is a nine-week, paid, internship program that prepares college undergraduates to lead and advocate for the Asian Pacific Islander community on their campuses and beyond.