It is a powerful story of fear and courage and uncertainty.

Watch this audio slide show of the demonstration here in Chicago and tell me if you don’t agree. It is by Peter Holderness

http://www.peterholderness.com/iyjl/index.html

So the job for the ethnic news media now is to cover these developments, and to explain where they are going and what they may result in.

What will happen to these students? Are they truly the parallel story to the freedom riders of the 1960s’ in the American South?

Can you stay with this story by telling about one person, one group, one family over time?

The students’ coming out is a prelude to the march this Sunday, March 21, by thousands of groups to push for immigration reform in Washington.

As many as 6,000 persons in Illinois are expected to take part and this a story in itself. They are leaving on Saturday on dozens of buses, a scene that could easily become part of a longer story.

Who are these people? What are their hopes? What is different about immigration reform today in 2010 in terms of expectations of the average person?

These are the contacts for the march;

Catherine Salgado, 312.332.7360 x 235 or 630.362.6202 (mobile)

Salvador Cervantes, 312.593.6411 (mobile)

Kere Picon, 815.621.8065 (for details on buses & logistics)

If you write or broadcast anything let me know,

Stephen

What makes them so different?

It’s the bond that you will see that links them.

This work is the result of a unique collaboration of six Chicago area ethnic news media

With more than 1.7 million people of foreign birth living in Illinois, no issue except for immigration reform seems as critical as who gets counted and what the census will tell us about our immigrant communities.

The publications taking part are Extra (Hispanic), the Polish Daily News, 4NewsMedia (Polish), Pinoy Newsmagazine (Philippine), Future newspaper (Arab), the India Tribune, and the Korea Daily News.

Students at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism reported and wrote the stories, while the publishers and editors helped shape the process through their work with Community Media Workshop’s Ethnic News Media Project and Medill’s Immigrant Connect project. The work is supported by grants from The Chicago Community Trust’s Community News Matters project, the McCormick Foundation and the Carnegie Corporation.

These stories could have been told 30, 50 or 100 years ago, and about different groups of strangers.

But it is about today, and what matters for some of those who traveled far to call Chicago their new home.

They are immigrant stories, but really they are much more.

Le me know what you think.

Steve

The Indo-American Center just off Devon Avenue has been ready for the 2010 U.S. Census for months, not wanting to overlook any opportunity to get the attention of the area’s large Indian community. When the census forms are mailed in March, they hope the area will be properly counted.

Santish and Mira Chander noticed a display when they were at the center the Wednesday before Thanksgiving for a special celebration. A large room towards the back of the center was strung with holiday lights and colorful strands of garland. Tables stood ready for heave loads of Indian food while rows of shiny gift bags awaited to be distributed by the Indian Community of Niles Township  among the senior citizens.

It was the first Thanksgiving, the Chanders said, for many of the Asian Indian senior citizens for whom the celebration was held. The Indian Community of Niles Township, to which the Chanders belong, helped the Indo-American Center host the event which was about more than food, song, and celebration. In the small entryway of the community center, two census pamphlets were displayed, and the day’s talks were sprinkled with announcements on the census. The Chanders thought the event introduced important information to senior citizens, some of whom are new to America, face language barriers and are unfamiliar with the intricacies of the census.

The Asian population of Cook, DuPage, Kane, Lake, McHenry, and Will counties was estimated by the 2008 American Community Survey to be 493,363. However, community activists worry that although certain Asian communities are being appropriately counted, other areas are undercounted. With the 2010 U.S. Census quickly approaching, community organizations such as the Indo-American Center and the Indian Community of Niles Township are collaborating to ensure everyone is counted.

“In general, the U.S. Census is valuable but widely misunderstood,” Santish Chander said.

Sohan Joshi, an accountant who immigrated to the United States 28 years ago, said he thinks many people don’t fill out the census forms because they’re not legal immigrants. Publicizing their name and address to the government is frightening to them, he said.

Still, the Asian Indian community in Niles Township doesn’t have a hard time getting its members to fill out census forms and is thus properly counted, said Usha Kamaria, president of the Indian Community of Niles Township. Active in Chicago area communities for 20 years, she worries that the Indian community around Devon may have difficulty, though, due to notable differences between the Niles and Devon areas.

“The Indian community in Niles is very involved in the political process,” said Kamaria, citing her election as trustee of Niles Township in 2001, a position she held until 2005. She said her election mobilized the community, making it more likely to be informed on matters such as the U.S. Census. “As long as you give (Indians) a reason (to fill out the census forms), they’ll do it,” she said.

Santosh Kumar, executive director of the Metropolitan Asian Family Services, added that while the Asian Indian community in Niles is more likely to be integrated into mainstream America, the Asian Indian community around Devon is likely to include  recent immigrants who face language barriers, especially among its senior citizens. Kumar, who is on the U.S. Census 2010’s official Complete Count Committee for the Rogers Park area, said the Indian community west of Ridge Blvd. is “severely undercounted” in population estimates, though she couldn’t approximate the number.

Joshi, a Devon community member, agreed that Niles is a politically active community. However, according to him, that may not necessarily translate to U.S. Census forms being filled out. Joshi doesn’t think the Devon area faces any problems different from any other ethnic community, including Niles, in getting people to fill out the census form.

Joshi, who was in the United States for both the 1990 and 2000 censuses, couldn’t say whether he filled out the forms. Since he’s often working, he couldn’t recall if anyone came to his home to discuss the census, citing the importance of community activists in ensuring cooperation.

Kamaria said many people don’t know why the census matters, and that in general it needs to be better explained. Even she expressed uncertainty about how the census would affect illegal immigrants who choose to fill out the forms and whether illegal immigrants or students are even supposed to fill it out.

According to the Census website, “the Census Bureau is mandated by the Constitution to count everyone who lives in this country, regardless of immigration or citizenship status” and “does not ask about legal (migrant) status of respondents in any of its survey and census programs.”

Events like the Thanksgiving celebration held at the Indo-American Center are important in getting out information about the 2010 U.S. Census to communities and answering such questions. These organizations are imperative in reaching people such as Khadananda and Dhanmaya Phuyel, refugees from Bhutan who have only been in the U.S. about four months. The first time the Phuyels heard about the census was at the community center.

Mira Chander recalled being impressed when she visited the center by a young attorney who announced he would make himself available on Saturdays to help people fill out their census forms.

“It really touched everyone’s heart,” said Chander.

It is seven o’clock on a Thursday evening at St. Francis the Catholic Worker in Uptown, and tonight, Filipino food – an aluminum container of spring rolls and big metal pots of white rice and noodles – fills a table in the dining room. Myrla Baldonado sits on a stool in the main room. She is talking about toxic waste left at American military sites in the Philippines, and she passes out cards drawn by Crizel Jane Valencia, a little girl who died from leukemia attributed to the waste.

The cards show a little girl floating through the air surrounded by flowers.

Of the eight or nine people in the room, some are interested Filipinos but many are volunteers at St. Francis, drifting in from the dining room. Finally, someone asks how the campaign will possibly get American politicians to pay attention. Baldonado sighs. She does not know. After she is done, a smiling Thai immigrant takes e-mail addresses for his own cause, Thai democracy.

The scene is familiar to Filipino activists who struggle to convince a fragmented ethnic community and uninterested politicians to care about their cause. When people think of Chicago as a collection of immigrants, few think of Filipinos. This is because most Filipinos arrived with college degrees and proficient English skills and have since adapted easily and faded into Chicago communities. There has never been a Filipino-town in Chicago, and, scattered throughout the city, Filipinos lack the cohesion of many immigrant populations in the city. For years, activists have attempted to band Filipinos together, but calls for unity have long become trite and activists have tired.

That does not bode well for U.S. census takers in the upcoming 2010 count. In 2000, 80,767 Filipinos were counted in the six-county area, encompassing Cook, DuPage, Will, McHenry, Lake and Kane counties. At the Alliance of Filipinos for Immigrant Rights and Empowerment (AFIRE), executive director Jerry Clarito thinks this number doesn’t reflect the real Filipino population – it’s too low. An accurate count, says Clarito, is important to understanding the community.

“An accurate count [enables] a more accurate story,” Clarito says.

As president of the Illinois Chapter of the National Federation of Filipino American Associations (NaFFAA), Angeles Carandang has seen a sense of wariness in the Filipino community. She’s been receiving forwarded e-mails about the census, which she considers scare tactics, whose source she says no one can seem to trace, for the past couple of months. Under the subject “2010 Census Cautions,” one e-mail purporting to be advice from the Better Business Bureau warns Filipinos that “[e]ventually, more than 140,000 U.S. Census workers will count every person in the United States and will gather information about every person living at each address, including name, age, gender, race, and other relevant data. The big question is – how do you tell the difference between a U.S. Census worker and a con artist?”

This does not surprise Clarito, who sees such distrust as part of the Filipino “cultural baggage” after a decade of martial law from 1972-1981 and corruption.

“Growing up we were afraid to talk about the government,” Clarito says. “Corruption [was] everywhere, from the low government officials to the president.”

Many Filipinos may not understand the importance of the count because in the Philippines, there is no census equivalent and they had never been counted. In providing the government with their name and family information, Clarito says, many Filipinos fear that the government is keeping tabs on them, or at the very least, will demand they perform jury duty or another civic duty.

“There is this suspicion because of where they came from that it would be used for any purposes that they would not like,” Clarito says.

To Filipinos, being counted does not equate with representing their community. This is because Filipinos consider themselves Americans, honoring their American identity over their cultural identity. Ever since the civil rights movement and the passage of the Immigration Act of 1965, allowing the biggest wave of Filipinos to come over as professionals, Filipinos have worked hard and have quietly blended into their communities. They had good jobs at hospitals and accounting firms, they were there at Sunday services in the Catholic churches, and their children came to school speaking perfect English.

“I can’t even count to three in Llocano,” says Larry Versola, a second-generation Filipino whose mother came to the United States as a nurse as part of the professional wave. “The one thing I retained from my Filipino heritage is that I can eat rice with anything.”

Versola grew up in one such quick-adapting, Americanized home. Now, Versola lives in Albany Park, a neighborhood with one of the highest rates of Filipinos, and yet Filipinos are almost invisible, he says, in his community.

“I don’t see any of them,” Versola says. “I never see them out walking their dog, or walking their kids, or showing up to CAPS meetings, or eating at restaurants.”

Versola attributes the invisibility of Filipinos in his community to a deep-seated Filipino belief in keeping to oneself and not making waves. This belief has carried over into many aspects of life for the Filipino American community. According to James Villar, executive director of the Philippine-American Chamber of Commerce of Greater Chicago (PACCGC), most Filipinos do not want to seek help, in business or other areas. As they quickly and quietly adjusted to the American lifestyle, Filipino immigrants brought a belief in self-sufficiency, a belief in working hard and not complaining.

“There’s really no welfare in the home country,” Villar says. “You either make it or you don’t… That’s the attitude that many Filipino Americans came to this country with.”

Villar sees Filipinos neglecting business opportunities available to them. Minority certification can help minority businesses receive contracts from the government as well as from Fortune 500 companies, such as Boeing and General Motors. Many Filipinos however, do not pursue minority certification. According to the PACCGC, for every fifty thousand dollars of federal contracts, Filipino businesses receive less than one dollar, with nearly the same rate for every fifty thousand dollars disbursed by Fortune 500 companies.

“They’re not asking for more of their share,” Villar says.

Five years after Versola founded and began organizing the annual Chicago Filipino American Film Festival (CFAFF), this keep-to-oneself mentality proves a continual barrier for the festival. Last year, in an effort to boost attendance, the organizers let students, seniors and many others into the festival for free.

“I don’t think Filipinos understand that by they themselves showing up, they are supporting the community,” Versola says.

Based on the Chicago event, Filipino-American film festivals in New York and Los Angeles have started. Though the festivals are only in their first year, Versola expects that more people will attend them than Chicago’s festivals because the Filipino communities in those cities are better-established and more united. According to Juanita Burris, a founder of the Asian American Institute and an organizer for AFIRE, different reasons for immigrating created different Filipino communities throughout the U.S. In California, Filipino immigrants mostly immigrated to join brothers and fathers already there after serving in the navy during World War II, resulting in a more united and family-centered community. New York attracted a Filipino community more involved in the arts, such as writers and movie lovers, forming a more cohesive and active community. Chicago, however, received a more fragmented group, with some families but more dominated by professionals motivated by income.

“It isn’t apathy or indifference that can explain the lack of interest in civil life in Chicago or Illinois,” Burris says. “It’s that the basic purpose of coming to Chicago or Illinois is to improve themselves economically.”

Division has resulted in a lack of political representation in the Chicago Filipino community. It’s getting better: the number of Filipinos holding office in Illinois has increased in the last five years and last year a Filipino grassroots political group supporting Obama called “Kaya,” meaning “Yes We Can,” formed.

“Politicians would probably take a second look if they see that a large number of Filipinos [is voting,]” Carandang says.

Politicians have overlooked the Filipino population for years. This is something known all too well by the sons and daughters of Filipino veterans all over the country. For 60 years, Filipinos have fought to get pensions for the Filipino veterans who fought for the Allies in World War II. Finally, in February 2009, the bill was tacked onto the stimulus bill and passed.

According to Clarito, whose father was one of those veterans who fought in the war, the veteran campaign proves that Filipino solidarity is key to capturing politicians’ attention. The bill’s main momentum came from California Congressman Bob Filner, whose district rests just north of the Mexican border, and Hawaii Senator Dan Inouye, both of whom represent constituencies with a large proportion of Filipinos.

The bill’s passage is viewed as a major victory for Filipinos all over the United States and the Philippines. It took sixty years, however, to get the bill passed. Sadly, most of the veterans who fought in World War II have passed away. Clarito’s father died in 1997. More than anything, Clarito says, the campaign demonstrates how easily the Filipino community is forgotten in the United States.

“What’s forgotten [are] the services of those boys in their teen years who joined,” Clarito says. “The fact that Congress could not even recognize that it’s part of their history [is frustrating.]”

Even within the Filipino community, there are segments that are forgotten, hidden underneath the veneer of the successful, independent Filipino. According to the 2000 Census, the Chicago Filipino community is still young and evolving, with 65 percent of the community born outside of the United States. Because of the professional wave, the classic image of the Filipino immigrant is that of the nurse or doctor, immigrants who are economically-mobile, self-sufficient, fluent in English and able to fill out forms on their own. For years, it seemed that all Filipinos needed was a place to gather.

“The [Jose P. Rizal] Center [a Filipino center in Lakeview] organized first for a sense of belonging,” Clarito says. “[P]eople looking for their own townmates, schoolmates, looking to protect their own communities.”

Arriving immigrants, however, do not fit the images of the professional wave that preceded them. Because Filipinos can now petition for family members to join them in the United States, the new wave of Filipinos includes older and younger immigrants.

As an immigrant community, the needs have changed. The new community is often less educated, doesn’t speak English as well and doesn’t understand the twists and turns of the American legal and social system, according to Clarito. They can’t easily slide into well-paying jobs, and, according to The New Chicago, a contemporary analysis of the city published in 2006, 7 percent of Chicago’s Filipinos are living in poverty. This group needs help applying for Medicaid, mortgages and food stamps.

Joaquin, who preferred not to have his real name known, has one such story. He and his wife are visiting the United States on a tourist visa in order to help his wife’s aging father, a permanent resident, who had stopped receiving food stamps in August after running into a problem with his benefits. Joaquin and his wife did not know where to go.

“We [were] struggling because we [didn’t] know how we [could] relate and how we [could] solve this problem,” Joaquin says.

Joaquin and his wife soon met with volunteers with AFIRE, who gave them ideas and helped them navigate the system. One of the most important services AFIRE now offers is translation, according to Clarito. Although most Filipinos are fluent speakers, they learned to use English in different ways in the Philippines and attached different cultural meanings to phrases. AFIRE volunteers ask clients to speak in their language, and then help them to state their needs in a way more appropriate to the American understanding of English.

“The culture that envelops the English that we know is different from the culture of the native speakers,” Clarito says. “It’s drilling down until the person will actually tell you.”

Joaquin’s father-in-law receives food stamps again, and Joaquin and his wife are using AFIRE to figure out how to get Medicaid for him. There are lots of stories like Joaquin’s; Filipinos who lose their jobs and become homeless, Filipinos unsure of how to get treatment for diabetes and other struggles.

Then there are the seniors, 70 year olds who come to the United States to join their children. Lacking mobility and cultural connection, many feel imprisoned.

“Oh my God, it’s just the adjustment,” Clarito says. “If you can give a person a good quality of life before they die… that’s a fantastic project.”

In a population typically characterized by quiet, productive Filipino households, however, issues like these create a stigma. This is what makes the need so great and yet so hidden in Chicago. In a still young immigrant community comprised typically of independent, homogenized Filipinos, those who are suffering are unknown and try to stay that way. They may not understand forms and don’t make enough money to feed themselves without food stamps.

According to Clarito, Filipinos don’t know the urgency in their own communities. The need is not yet visible to Filipinos amongst their neighbors or the people at their church, but it exists. To him, the numbers testify to the need: AFIRE has helped more than 250 people in the past five months.

“What I’m trying to tell is that there are so many people I think that need assistance for [my] kind of situation,” Joaquin says.

As part of a project by the Illinois Department of Human Services, AFIRE is starting to do outreach and research in the community. So far, AFIRE has embarked on a massive information campaign, using write-ups in local media and public information workshops to reach out to Filipinos and collect data. This is exactly how the census could help the Filipino community in Chicago. It could illuminate a changing and unexpectedly suffering community.

A more accurate count of Filipinos in Chicago would not only provide statistics for the Filipino community but could help activists build a better case for funding for both services and research of the community. Clarito dreams of getting a building for AFIRE. Right now, volunteers operate an information hotline and meet with clients at churches, restaurants and centers.

An accurate census count in 2010 could help in other ways too. Filipino participation in the census is important not just for the ethnic community but for the larger cities and towns where Filipinos reside, according to Carandang. In Skokie, known as a center for many Filipinos in the area and where Carandang is on the Planning Commission Board, a more accurate population count could mean better senior centers and a domestic violence prevention campaign. For the Film Festival, an accurate count could help sway more sponsors. In the business community, evidence of population growth would mean more federal funding.

“Funding is the number one concern for small business,” says Villar. “The more we show, the bigger piece of the pie we’ll be able to get from the federal government.”

“If every Filipino in Chicago was counted by the census, we could go to sponsors and convince them to reach out to the Filipino community,” Versola says.

Efforts are being made to help Filipinos understand the importance of the census. Abella’s Filipino American Council of Chicago will work with the census to motivate Filipinos to participate. In Skokie, Carandang is planning a census forum for the general community, but focusing upon Filipinos. She hopes to counter fears and encourage participation.

As census outreach begins, Filipinos in Chicago find themselves in a unique position. Well-known division in the community could prevent a truly accurate count. However, if outreach succeeds, the census could help bring attention to a forgotten community.

“Everything is about education,” Carandang says.

In the U.S. Census’ most recent American Community Survey, it is estimated that 51,972 people of Arab descent currently live in the greater Chicago areas of Cook, DuPage and Lake County. Another estimate, provided by the Advisory Council on Arab Affairs to the Chicago Commission on Human Relations, puts the number of Arabs at 150,000 in the metro Chicago area. A Zogby International study suggests the number is actually 182,000.

But if you speak with local activists in the Chicago area, they’ll tell you the number is closer to 300,000. When the U.S. Census Bureau does its decennial sweep of the Chicago area in April 2010, a more accurate count isn’t likely to result.

When Arab Americans fill out their census forms in just a few months, they won’t find an Arab category listed next to Asian, Black or African American, or White. “Arab is not considered a race, so there’s no racial category,” explains Louise Cainkar, a board member of the Arab American Action Network. “They have to check the white box, and a lot of people feel that their experience is not the white experience, so that’s unfair.”

In the early 20^th century, the unspoken protocol in the Arab community was that crossing the white box was a way to integrate and become part of American society. Many of the Arab-Americans working with the census recall this consensus from the older generation. “Some Arabs…think it is the best way to integrate,” says Rasmieyh Abdelnabi, from the Network of Arab American Professionals. “And then you have this other side who says, yes it’s good to integrate, but you also have to acknowledge your heritage.”

Abdelnabi says the difference in opinion is mainly a generational one, with older Arabs preferring to be counted as white, while younger and American-born Arabs want their ethnic backgrounds identified. It gets complicated, though, because some Arabs, particularly those who recently immigrated, also bring lingering distrust of government agencies, and therefore wish to blend in with larger white populations, says Fadi Zanayed, president of the Chicago American Arab Anti-Discrimination Council. Fears also stem from virulent anti-Arab sentiment following September 11, 2001, and from a government request for Census lists of Arab descendants organized by zip code.

In the past, national lobbyists pushed for the addition of an Arab category on the census, but the discussion is further complicated by internal divisions within the Arab community. “Iranians aren’t Arabs, so you still wouldn’t be counting people who feel that they’re having a discriminating experience,” Cainkar says. “Or Turks or Kurds. So the Middle East is full of groups that aren’t counted as Arabs.”

A Middle Eastern category has been suggested, but its inclusion of Israel remains a problem for many Arabs. Additionally, Cainkar points out that the Middle East is a social construct, and most individuals do not identify by that geographical region.

Although the possibility remains distant, the addition of some kind of Arab category would have significant advantages for the community. “When you’re not counted, your experiences are kind of denied. It’s hard to get grants, it’s hard to get anything, because nobody counts you,” says Cainkar. “If you’re a service agency and want to provide services, nobody’s going to give you money unless they have you stipulate or have you show that there’s a need but to show a need you have to show numbers and if there’s no numbers you can’t show a need so it creates that problem.”

At present, Arabs have the option to check “Other” and write in their preferred racial label. However, the Census Bureau recodes those responses as “White” for methodological reasons, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s official procedures for race and ethnicity classifications.

“It’s not good enough to simply write in the word ‘Arab,’” says Ray Hanania, radio personality, comedian and former Chicago Sun-Times reporter, in an online post. Hanania, who is a Palestinian-American, is asking Arabs to boycott the census entirely. However, Arab-American activist groups warn that there are serious consequences for non-participation.

“The message we’re very concerned about is that if you do not participate in the census, your community is not counted which means your community is underserved and underrepresented,” says Christina Zola, director of communications at the Arab American Institute. “You will not have enough money.”

Census data is used to allocate funds for services like hospitals, job training centers, schools, public works, and emergency services. The more people who are counted, the more money a community receives.

One of the other issues that the Arab community has to face in Chicago is that it is not a bounded community. Since the end of the 19^th century, Chicago became a home for Arabs from many countries: Lebanon, Syria, Israel, Occupied Palestinian Territories, Jordan or Iraq. There isn’t an official Arab area but many Arab enclaves: near 18^th Street and South Michigan Avenue, west of Harlem Avenue around 93^rd Street where the Mosque Foundation was built in 1981. Many Arabs live in the suburbs of Chicago, including Bridgeview, Oak Lawn and Palos Hills, and Arabs in Chicago are scattered, which softens the sense of belonging to a distinct geographic Arab community. The census would be a way for a more pan-Arab community to be heard on the city scene, and also on the national scene.

Cainkar’s early 1998 report “Meeting Community Needs, Building Community Strengths” remains one of the only studies specifically examining the Arab-American community in Chicago. The survey indicated a great need by Arab residents for services all over the city.

One example is the southwest side of Chicago, where a large concentration of Arab-Americans lives in Gage Park, Chicago Lawn, West Lawn, and West Elsdon. This community is the most economically disadvantaged from among all the Arab enclaves. Residents there voiced the need for job training and job counseling services to address the large unemployment numbers. Additionally, there was a call for more services for the growing number of American-born children, including language training and daycare centers.

A more recent look at the area in 2009 by the Illinois Department of Economic Security’s Local Area Unemployment Statistics found underfunded schools and only a handful of tutoring centers. Unemployment had hit an all-time high for this area as well.

“We want to be a voice, firstly to work for our community as a whole, not just the Arab community,” Abdelnabi says. “If we want to be powerful in the Chicago area, to stay powerful, to have a lobby for us, to have representatives coming for us, to have candidates run for offices, we have to fill in the census. The only way to stay powerful is if we show them our numbers.”

The level of participation by the Korean community in the 2010 U.S. Census may well be influenced by a new law in the Republic of Korea that for the first time allows Korean citizens living abroad to vote in national elections at home.

In early 2009, the Korean National Assembly enacted a law that will allow South Korean expatriates, including permanent residents and short-term visitors living in the United States, to vote in the country’s presidential and parliamentary elections. The law marks a dramatic shift, reversing a policy that prohibited Korean citizens living abroad from voting in their country’s elections.

The legislation extends the vote to Korean citizens over the age of 19, or an estimated 2.4 million Koreans living abroad, according to the Korean National Election Commission (NEC). Korean natives who become citizens of other countries, including the U.S., are not eligible to vote.

Korea holds popular elections every five years for an executive president and every four years for representatives of the unicameral parliament, the National Assembly. The next parliamentary election, in 2012, will serve as the testing ground for the new law.

Under the law, Korean expatriates are able to cast their ballots only at Korean embassies or consulates. The Korean consulate in Chicago, for instance, serves 13 U.S. states, comprising much of the Midwest.

Because the voting policy only applies to Koreans who are still citizens of South Korea, knowing the total number of people of Korean descent in the U.S. is not enough. Election organizers need to know how many of those of Korean descent are actually citizens of Korea.

Consul Jung-il Han of the Korean Consulate General in Chicago explained that how the consulate prepares for the next election is dependent on this figure. “For example,” he said, “[if] there are just 1,000 in this [Chicago] area, then the [number of voting machines or ballots] will be based on that number of people. If there are 10,000 or 100,000, it will be bigger.”

How much bigger? Counsul Han is not sure, as election plans are still in the preliminary stage.

This is where the 2010 U.S. Census comes in. Consul Han says that the Chicago Korean consulate has relied on the U.S. Census for estimates on the Korean population in the Chicago area. There are an estimated 51,000 people of Korean descent residing in the Chicago area, according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s American Community Survey Data for 2006-2008. This number consists of all survey participants who claimed Korean ancestry.

But Han and other leaders in Chicago’s Korean community believe that this is an undercount of the Korean population. “Usually in the Korean community, when we talk about population, usually we say 150,000 or 200,000 people.  I [personally] think it is anything like 100,000 people,” said Byoung Kim, Co-Chair of the 2010 Complete Count Committee for Chicago’s Korean community.

Why the huge discrepancy? Han and Kim both believe that the undercount is due to low participation of two segments of the Chicago’s Korean population – permanent residents and undocumented Korean citizens.

This leaves Korean election organizers in a dilemma. How do they get an accurate count of Korean citizens living in the United States when that is the segment of the Korean community that is least likely to participate in the census?

Han and Kim cite many reasons why Koreans who are not U.S. citizens opt out of participating: they are undocumented and therefore fear the legal repercussions; they struggle with English (the 2000 census forms did not come in a Korean version); they find the participation process too tedious or they are unaware of the census itself.  Kim further explained that misinformation about the census is also a prime reason for low participation.

“Some people don’t know that the census is for everybody, not just for U.S. citizens,” Kim said.

Kim and his committee members are working as volunteers for the U.S. Census to educate the Korean community on the process.  They are targeting non-U.S. citizens through schools, faith-based organizations, and other Korean community groups.

But Kim admits that although he and his committee members are aware of the new voting law implemented by the Korean government, they have yet to use that new policy as a means to promote census participation among Chicago’s Korean citizens. Why? Because, he believes, Korean citizens in the U.S. do not particularly care about participating in South Korean elections.

“Even though they are interested in what is going on in [South] Korea, many people are busy taking care of their lives in America,” he said. Kim reported that when the voting policy was first announced, a poll taken by a Korean newspaper showed that only 15 to 20 percent of those surveyed planned to participate in future South Korean elections.

The apathy toward this voting policy is apparent among some of Chicago’s Korean citizens. Sun Jon Choi is a Korean citizen who resides in the Chicago area. She moved to the U.S. about a year ago and currently works as a cook at a food stand in H-Mart, a Korean grocery store in Niles. Although Choi said that she participated in South Korean elections when she was still living there, she’s shown little interest in participating in it now that she is overseas. “No, I don’t think I need to,” she said with a coy smile and a shrug.

Tae-Un Shin, another Korean citizen, is a student at Northwestern University in Evanston. She knew nothing of the voting policy and had no idea about the U.S. Census. “I’m only here [in the U.S.] for a short time,” she said in response to why she would not cast an absentee vote in the Korean elections.

“I’m not an immigrant. Koreans who live here as immigrants, they have more interest to vote than me who is just here for a short time,” Shin said, further explaining that the nostalgia Korean immigrants here feel for their home country makes them more interested than she is in Korean politics.

Whatever the percentage may be, there are still Korean citizens in Chicago who intend to exercise their right to vote in the 2012 elections. Korean citizen Woo Yeon Kim is a four-year resident of Chicago and an advertising professional for a local Korean radio station. “It will be a chance to show my opinion about politics and economy in Korea,” Kim said of the upcoming elections.

Choi, Shin, Kim and other Korean Chicagoans interviewed revealed an interesting trend. Those who were willing to vote in the 2012 elections seemed to be those who were more willing to participate in the 2010 U.S. Census. This is good news for election organizers because it means that the 2010 Census estimate of Korean citizens will closely mirror the number of Korean citizens they can expect at the polls on election day. If that is so, then the use of those numbers by the election organizers will be living proof that the U.S. census can be useful beyond the borders of the United States.

Crusaders will soon descend upon the community of Little Village, armed with cans of spray paint and posters to cover the walls of this Chicago neighborhood while its neighbors are sound asleep. These people aren’t vandals who seek to deface the city—it’s a city, in fact, that these crusaders care deeply about.

They are members of Enlace, a well-known non-profit organization within the community, working to encourage members of the Little Village neighborhood to fill out their Census forms in the upcoming 2010 U.S. Census. Their mission is to catch their fellow community members by surprise through a guerilla advertising campaign.

Enlace’s late-night adventure will involve the plastering of paper hands – the symbol for next year’s Census – throughout the community before spray-painting messages across them to raise awareness of the Census and encourage community members to participate.

Enlace’s campaign, called “La Villita Cuenta” – or Little Village Counts – is one of many campaigns throughout Illinois and the U.S. that seek to increase the number of people counted by the U.S. Census Bureau next year. Historically, said representatives from Enlace, Little Village has been less than 50 percent counted.  Darhiian Espinoza, Enlace’s Economic Development Director and head of the “La Villita Cuenta” campaign, estimates the neighborhood’s true population to be around 120,000.

The Census is critical for communities like Little Village, Enlace argues, because inaccurate counting can result in a drastic loss of federal finances. Census data is used to distribute over 300 billion dollars in federal funds, and even more in state funds – money that means everything to a community like Little Village, where resources and opportunities are not up to par. Basic amenities like roads and schools are in dire need of repair, Espinoza said, and people in the community know this.

What the community doesn’t know is that, over the span of 10 years, every person that goes uncounted creates a loss of $12,000 in federal funds.  Furthermore, 4,000 people counted over the span of 10 years has the power to attract enough funding to build one high school.

“We have to pitch it to them correctly, otherwise they’ll shut down,” said Espinoza.  “We want to throw numbers at them, but not numbers so large that it becomes unbelievable. So that’s a little bit of a tricky one.”

So if the benefits of being counted are so good, why the hesitation?

“On some level, the lack of being counted is really a reflection of apprehension, of fear, of true crimes that have been committed to individuals who are undocumented here,” said Dia Cirillo, Acting CEO of Enlace. These are issues Enlace has taken seriously in its formulation of campaign strategies, she said

“One of the things that will make people feel more compelled is our story,” said Espinoza. Formerly known as the Little Village Community Development Corporation, Enlace is a nearly two-decade-old organization well-known in the community for work they’ve done on a very personal basis with community members. The people of Little Village, Enlace hopes, know them well enough to lend some trust.

Like Enlace, the people of Little Village care deeply about their community. A prominently Hispanic neighborhood nestled in the mid-west side of Chicago, Little Village is full of gathering places – a bread shop, a favorite restaurant, a living room, and most commonly, the front porch.

Families get together in Little Village, said Espinoza. “You’ve got half-a-block at someone’s house on their front steps chatting it up for the purpose of chatting it up,” he said.

This close tie between community members in Little Village is a quality Enlace plans to utilize in its efforts to publicize the Census.  The organization considers the prevalent neighbor-to-neighbor dialogue one of their most valuable assets.  However, the organization fears that this open forum for discussion could work against them if people spread the message of “Oh, don’t believe the Census, it’s a load of… good stuff,” said Espinoza.

Enlace isn’t tackling the Census alone, however. They are collaborating with Latinos Progresando, another non-profit in the Little Village community, and have established unofficial partnerships with nearly 20 other organizations.  Indeed, Enlace’s efforts are part of a greater statewide campaign, called Count Me In, a collection of 60 non-profits all set out to increase the population count in Illinois communities.

For Enlace, the focus remains on Little Village. In addition to the neighbor-to-neighbor campaign, Enlace is trying to incorporate their Census work into current programming.  They have already used their community schools program, which conducts after-school programming, sports and extracurricular activities, to familiarize people with the upcoming Census project. “We’re going in there and presenting them with information that we think is needed for them to feel comfortable with filling out their Census,” Espinoza said

In an effort to time the campaign perfectly, Enlace plans to start a concentrated campaign in early January. The organization is already arranging a concert – part of a kick-off party in January before directing its focus to the neighbor-to-neighbor campaign.

Ideally, Enlace and other community members will inspire a shift in thinking that provokes Little Village residents to fill out their Census forms.  One of the most prevalent roadblocks Enlace and other Census proponents face, however, is fear and mistrust in government, especially by older generations.

“I think we’re in a point in our society – society as a whole – where we’re kind of split,” Espinoza said. “A lot of the young people are feeling inspired politically and feeling that their voice does count, as well as a lot of older people. It’s just a lot harder for older people here to find that trust in the political system which they think failed so many times.”

Espinoza, along with many other members of the community, believes the neighborhood’s fear stems from a “raid” that took place at the 26th Street Discount Mall a few years ago. Espinoza called it the “cherry on top” of the fear people already had, “just in case people didn’t already mistrust the government,” he said. The store was raided by ICE with what appeared to be machine guns, Espinoza said. “The fear that you saw in people’s eyes and the immediate sense they got that they were coming out for all of us… that kind of puts fear in a lot of people’s hearts. It’s not being counted and having someone know where you live – you’re not signing up to let everybody know where you live. I think that plays a big role.”

Although the Census is separate from the rest of the government, people tend to associate the two.  “It’s all ‘the government’ as far as anyone’s concerned,” Espinoza said.  “‘The government wants to charge me more taxes, the government wants to get me arrested for immigration purposes.’ There’s no distinction there,” he said. Many people in the community tend to agree.

Suzana Arambula, a 33-year-old elementary school teacher and life-long Little Village resident, said the fear in the community is real. Although she has no problem filling out the Census, she recognizes that many community members know fellow residents who are undocumented or have undocumented family members living in the same home.

“People start thinking if we fill this out and it’s five of us living here and they check and see who has social security cards and everyone else doesn’t, families start splitting apart,” said Arambula. “With all these things that are happening in the news with immigration, my opinion is that this is one of the biggest reasons people don’t want to do it,” she said.

Keeping this belief system in mind, Espinoza said that Enlace is trying to educate Little Village on these political matters and convince them that the information they volunteer in fact cannot be shared with any other governmental agency.

Enlace hopes to take an approach that helps the community understand they are all coming from a similar mindset. “That’s the approach we’re trying to take,” he said. “Not just me telling them, but their sisters telling them, and their cousins, and their grandmothers – make it something the community at large is aware of and can vouch for,” Espinoza said.

Hesitancy to take part in the Census isn’t limited to the Hispanic community in Little Village. Other ethnic communities face the same problem of undercounting.  “Whether it be that you’ll get deported or that you haven’t been paying child support…[there is a belief that] they’re going to find you. You know, it’s all fear of one thing or another,” Espinoza said.

This lack of knowledge and interest in the Census will be a primary challenge to Enlace as they move forward. Even Arnold Cavazos, a 25-year resident of Little Village and a friend of Enlace’s since the organization’s inception, is unfamiliar with the significant impact the Census could have on his community. “If we’re all counted,” Espinoza tried to explain to the 62-year-old, “we can create more jobs, we can fix our roads.”

The former rodeo farmer said he will fill out his Census forms, as he has in the past, but believed other people in the community will almost certainly be hesitant – a result, he claimed, of the neighborhood’s heavy undocumented population. People who have their papers will be uncomfortable, Cavazos said, because “their in-laws, their brothers, their sisters, their moms, their aunts – they do not [have papers], and they’re going to hold back.”

There are plenty of reasons why community members might be hesitant, Arambula agreed. “Maybe they think it’s a hassle to fill out the paper work,” she said, “or maybe a lack of interest in what’s going on. Or maybe the government doesn’t do much for the community, so what’s the point in filling it out?”

Despite potential setbacks, Espinoza and Enlace are ready to push through. The facts, they believe, are on their side, and the arguments are hard to defy. Arambula, for example, the mother of a small child, reacted very positively to the idea that a higher count could mean more money for education. “I would love for the money to go to schools around the area,” she said, “because there are so many kids around here and that would benefit them the most.”

Discussions like these – where members of the community realize that filling out their Census forms will have direct impacts on their personal lives – are exactly the type of discussions that Enlace hopes to be having with every person in Little Village in the coming months. Considering his upcoming battle, Espinoza seems optimistic with the Little Village community.

“One of the things I’ve been telling people,” he said confidently, “is that the money is there. No matter what happens, the money is there. It’s up to us whether the money comes our way or goes to someone else.”

With Little Village’s sense of community behind them, Enlace is set to ensure the city’s rightful share of funds is received. “This is in part our money,” Espinoza said. “Let’s bring it back into our community and help our community prosper.”

Grazyna Zajaczkowska pulls out an 1,832-page Polish Yellow Pages directory. The Director of Immigrant Services of the Polish American Association (PAA) in Chicago does it to underscore how many Polish-Americans live and work in and around Chicago. She puts the number at more than one million people, an astonishing figure if accurate.

“This is the largest population of Poles after Warsaw,” Zajaczkowska said.

The 2010 U.S. Census may factor into such musings but it won’t have an authoritative role to play in confirming or debunking Zajaczkowska’s claim because the government’s official decennial survey doesn’t directly ask for ethnic affiliation. However, the results matter significantly in determining how much government money gets funneled into the community.

According to the 2000 Census Report, 820,548 Polish people live in the six-county Metro Chicago area, which consists of Cook, DuPage, Lake, Kane, McHenry and Will counties.

In the United States, the Polish community traces its beginnings to the earliest European permanent settlement in Jamestown, Virginia. The first Polish settlers arrived in 1608 according to “Jamestown Pioneers of Poland,” a brief history of the settlers published by the Polish American Congress in 1976.

As the U.S. prepares for its second census in the 21^st century, the Polish community has grown from a handful of Polish glassmakers in Jamestown to millions across the country.

The census is an essential tool for assessing the needs of communities across the country. Based on the results, the federal government provides funding for such services as education, health care and transportation infrastructure.

“It helps for the community, for Cook County. You get money from the government for schools and neighborhoods,” said Andrzej Partyka, a 32-year-old construction worker living in Jefferson Park. “If much more people fill it out, it’s going to be better [for us],” said Partyka, who has been here for four years.

However, the effects of filling out the census are not common knowledge in the Polish community.

“A lot of people don’t understand or comprehend what’s going on, and they don’t want to get involved in something they don’t understand,” said Alicja Pasieka, 40, who has been in Chicago since she was 12. This may lead to people not realizing that the census does directly affect them and their community.

There are a variety of reasons why Polish people may not fill out the census, the first of which is the language barrier, according to Zajaczowska. Though census forms are available in Polish, the translation is “horrible,” according to Lidia Seeger, who works with the Housing Department of the Polish American Association. The original form in English must be filled out, as the Polish translation only serves as a guide. The Association is re-translating the form and putting it on its Web site.

Many Polish people may not be inclined to participate in the census because of trust issues with the government, dating back to when Poland was under Socialist rule, according to Zajaczowska. This especially applies to undocumented immigrants, who may not want to participate for fear of being deported.

“It’s very easy to blend in and nobody knows where you are when you’re illegal, so why expose yourself?” Pasieka said. For her, filling out the census form gives undocumented people the impression that they are making their existence known to the government and putting themselves in danger of “getting into trouble.”

“Those are common scares in immigrant communities – a fear of government and fear of information being shared with immigration authorities is common across the borders,” said Monika Starczuk, who founded the Young Polish Initiative. “That’s where education comes in, and why organizations are so critical.”

Another barrier to filling out the census form is that people may not even recognize it when it arrives in the mail, according to Zajaczowska.

“We will have to teach them that the Census 2010 means ‘Spis Powszechny,’” Zajaczowska said. This literally translates to “common list” which is what the census is called in Poland.

The U.S. Census Bureau has launched an ad campaign targeted at Polish people to encourage participation in the census.

However, it is out of touch with the Polish community, according to Zajaczowska, and it is unclear what the poster itself is advertising. A slogan that says “Ten Questions to Change the Situation and Make History” is prominently featured on the ad, while “Census 2010” is only part of the fine print at the bottom.

“No one who sees the poster realizes it’s for the census,” said Zajaczowska, who also said that the Polish American Association will add a label to the poster for clarification. “We have to. There’s no other way.”

This year’s census also marks a change in how ethnicity is measured. In the 2000 Census, every U.S. resident completed a short form survey that gave a broad selection of races, including White, Black, American Indian and Asian Indian. Seventeen percent of the population filled out a long form survey that examined ancestry. The long form has been terminated for the 2010 Census, and ancestry will instead be measured by the American Community Survey, a yearly survey sent to a sample of the population. Therefore, the upcoming census itself won’t resolve how many Polish-Americans live here.

There are nearly 680,000 Polish-Americans living in Cook, DuPage and Lake counties, according to the 2008 American Community Survey. The sample sizes of Kane, McHenry and Will counties were too small to yield significant results for that survey. However, based on the 2000 Census there are over 122,000 Polish people living in those counties. This means that the number of Polish-Americans in Chicago has decreased by about 20,000 in the past decade.

“The wave of people immigrating to the U.S. is smaller for Polish immigrants,” Starczuk said.

The longer American Community Survey gives ethnic and racial groups a chance to identify their heritage in further detail than the short form census. Whether or not a person is Polish will be asked on the survey but not on the official 2010 Census. The only way for people to identify as Polish on the official short census form is checking “Some other race” and writing it in.

“It’s extremely hard for so many people to state what they really are [on the short form census,]” said Zajaczowska, adding that ethnic and racial groups struggle to identify themselves properly.

Pasieka said she would check White on the form and thinks that “99.9 percent” of Polish people will do the same. “I don’t think there’s a question about it.” But their Polish heritage will be lost among all the other people who also check White.

“It’s a different thing if you have all ethnicities and minority groups listed and then you can choose, but then there are too many nationalities,” said Michalina Maliszewska, a 25-year-old graduate of Northeastern University. Maliszewska was the president of the Polish Student Club at Northeastern and attended the National Conference of the Polish American Congress last year. “It would be too hard in America to list all of them…. race is the major thing for the Census.”

The U.S. Census Bureau is currently working with Polish organizations like the Young Polish Initiative to reach out to the Polish community in Chicago, including their presentation at the National Conference of the Polish American Congress.

“The media has been very interested in passing through information,” Starczuk said. “We’re doing a lot of outreach and informing people about the importance of the census.”

Important, yes, but not to put to rest the question of whether the number of Polish-Americans in the Chicago area has topped one million.