When was obama a community organizer in chicago

Green described this coalition in Chicago. Other articles will be published in this series sponsored by the Woods Charitable Fund Inc. O ver the past five years, I've often had a difficult time explaining my profession to folks.

Typical is a remark a public school administrative aide made to me one bleak January morning, while I waited to deliver some flyers to a group of confused and angry parents who had discovered the presence of asbestos in their school.

I've thought back on that conversation more than once during the time I've organized with the Developing Communities Project, based in Chicago's far south side. Unfortunately, the answers that come to mind haven't been as simple as her question. Probably the shortest one is this: It needs to be done, and not enough folks are doing it.

The debate as to how black and other dispossessed people can forward their lot in America is not new. From W. DuBois to Booker T. Washington to Marcus Garvey to Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, this internal debate has raged between integration and nationalism, between accommodation and militancy, between sit-down strikes and boardroom negotiations.

The lines between these strategies have never been simply drawn, and the most successful black leadership has recognized the need to bridge these seemingly divergent approaches. During the early years of the civil rights movement, many of these issues became submerged in the face of the clear oppression of segregation. The debate was no longer whether to protest, but how militant must that protest be to win full citizenship for blacks.

Twenty years later, the tensions between strategies have reemerged, in part due to the recognition that for all the accomplishments of the s, the majority of blacks continue to suffer from second-class citizenship. Related to this are the failures — real, perceived and fabricated — of the Great Society programs initiated by Lyndon Johnson.

Facing these realities, at least three major strands of earlier movements are apparent. F irst, and most publicized, has been the surge of political empowerment around the country.

Harold Washington and Jesse Jackson are but two striking examples of how the energy and passion of the civil rights movement have been channeled into bids for more traditional political power. Second, there has been a resurgence in attempts to foster economic development in the black community, whether through local entrepreneurial efforts, increased hiring of black contractors and corporate managers, or Buy Black campaigns.

Third, and perhaps least publicized, has been grass-roots community organizing, which builds on indigenous leadership and direct action. Proponents of electoral politics and economic development strategies can point to substantial accomplishments in the past 10 years.

An increase in the number of black public officials offers at least the hope that government will be more responsive to inner-city constituents. Economic development programs can provide structural improvements and jobs to blighted communities. In my view, however, neither approach offers lasting hope of real change for the inner city unless undergirded by a systematic approach to community organization. This is because the issues of the inner city are more complex and deeply rooted than ever before.

Blatant discrimination has been replaced by institutional racism; problems like teen pregnancy, gang involvement and drug abuse cannot be solved by money alone. At the same time, as Professor William Julius Wilson of the University of Chicago has pointed out, the inner city's economy and its government support have declined, and middle-class blacks are leaving the neighborhoods they once helped to sustain.

It's quite a list: The majority of jobs generated by the center would be set aside for South Siders, especially youths, seniors, ex-offenders and people who reside in low-income housing. The groups also want "a significant, guaranteed" amount of affordable housing built around the center. Also job training programs, the restoration of a bus route, improvements to the Metra Electric line, and an assurance that development spurred by the center won't displace longtime residents.

All of this, they say, should be cemented by a "community benefits agreement," a pact between developer and community that maps out a project's benefits and locks them in with a binding document. A CBA in Los Angeles for the Staples Center, home of the Lakers, gave the community a job training program, affordable housing, park improvements and extra residential parking. The Obama center will deliver an economic boost to neighborhoods beaten down by years of disinvestment and violence.

The Obama Foundation, which is raising money to build the center, predicts that the project will produce 2, new jobs — both at the center and in ripple effects. The center is expected to draw between , and , visitors each year, which should increase retail, lodging and dining businesses. Obama and his team have tried to convince residents they don't need a CBA — they can trust the Obama Foundation's pledge to deliver jobs and an economic B12 shot to their neighborhoods.

At a September public meeting held by the foundation, Obama made his answer to the activists' demands loud and clear. It was an acknowledgement that real change happens when people of all ages and from all walks of life come together to demand better.

In it, I found reflected back to me my own experiences as a young woman organizing with immigrant domestic workers in New York City. We help people imagine new possibilities, and then we develop and implement plans to realize those visions. Looking back on the moments in our collective history that have strengthened our democracy, we can see a pattern. In seven states, immigrant women and women of color organized to win passage of Domestic Workers Bill of Rights , providing domestic workers in California and Illinois among others with critical protections on the job.

There is deep cynicism that our political system can deliver meaningful solutions and that our political engagement—even our vote—actually matters. Moments like this one, when we feel isolated from one another and lack confidence in our individual or collective agency, call for good organizing.

We need organizers, tens of thousands of them, who can develop unifying agendas and messages, bring us together as a nation, and rebuild our confidence in our ability to co-create democracy.

It is my hope that Obama will use his post-presidential platform to elevate the role of organizing in finding solutions to intractable problems and to support the leadership of constituencies that are too often overlooked.

Organizations like mine—the National Domestic Workers Alliance —bring women of color out of the shadows and, through organizing, develop a new generation of leaders. Organizing is happening across this country, in the least visible corners of our economy and democracy, and we need even more of it.