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Home » The Radical Act of Choosing Common Ground: Nisha Anand (Transcript)

The Radical Act of Choosing Common Ground: Nisha Anand (Transcript)

Full text of justice reform advocate Nisha Anand’s talk titled “The Radical Act of Choosing Common Ground” at TEDxBerkeley conference.

Listen to the MP3 Audio here:

TRANSCRIPT:

Nisha Anand – CEO of Dream Corps

In 1994, the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act passed. You probably know it as the crime bill. It was a terrible law.

It ushered in an era of mass incarceration that allowed mandatory minimums, three-strikes laws, the expansion of the death penalty — it was terrible. But it passed with bipartisan support.

GOP House Speaker Newt Gingrich, architect of the Republican Revolution, led the way, signed into law by Democratic President, Bill Clinton.

Also in 1994, I was a senior in high school when this bill got passed, and you were likely to find me on the streets protesting any number of causes, including the crime bill. So that’s what makes this picture all the more surprising.

Newt was not on the top of my “Favorite Person in this Country” list. But this picture was taken in 2015. This was the start of a movement that would pass a bill called the First Step Act. The “New York Times” called it the most significant reform in criminal justice in a generation.

You know, 1994 Nisha… on-the-streets activist… might be disappointed in this photo; some of you might be too. But standing here today I’m not. This is what I’m here to talk to you about today. This is radical common ground. And I’m not talking about the kind of common ground where, you know, we can talk about how much we love springtime or “puppies are super cute.”

And it’s not, you know, compromised common ground. This is common ground that’s hard. It hurts. It’s the type of common ground where you will be ridiculed and judged. But it’s the type of common ground that can secure human freedom. It can save lives. And it’s the type of common ground I was born to find. It’s in my DNA.

My dad was born during the partition in India. After the Indian independence movement, the country was really divided between people who wanted to keep the country together and those who wanted different independent nations. And when the British left, they just decided to draw a line, the partition and make a new country.

This started the largest forced mass migration in human history. Fifteen million people trapped on the wrong side of these new borders. Two million people dead during the partition.

And my dad was the youngest baby in a Hindu family on the wrong side of the border. and like families all around the border on both sides, they went into hiding.

And I was told when I was little about the story of my family in hiding, and one day when armed men came into the house that they were hiding in, searching for families, my dad started crying. And my grandma started shaking him. And my grandfather, in that moment, he made the choice that he’d sacrifice his son in order to save the family.

But luckily, in that moment he stopped crying. My grandma, she shook him and he stopped crying and I’m here today because he stopped crying.

But I’m also here today because of that Muslim family that took us in. They also were held at gunpoint and an armed man asked if they were hiding anyone, and they swore on the Quran that nobody was in that house. They chose in that moment when the entire country — everybody in the region, you could hate people who had different politics than you, different religion, you could kill people. That was what was happening.

But they swore on their Holy book, they chose the shared humanity over politics of that day, and we lived. And we survived.

And I start with this story because often people tell me that my mission for common ground is the weak position. But I ask how was that Muslims family’s actions weak? Because of that, my dad did grow up healthy in India and he emigrated to this country, and I was born here in the late ’70s, and like most first-generation kids I was born to build bridges.

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I was a bridge between the old country and the new. And just growing up, that’s what I did. I was a brown girl in the Black and white South in Atlanta, Georgia. I was like, on one hand, the perfect Indian daughter… straight As, captain of the debate team.

But on the other hand, I was also this radical feminist, punk-rock activist sneaking out of the house for concerts and, you know, getting arrested like, all the time for causes. I was a mix of a lot things. But they all live harmoniously in me.

Building bridges was just natural, and I think all of us represent a mix of a bunch of things. I think we have that ability to find the common ground. But that’s not how I was living my life… at all.

I moved to the Bay Area in 2001, and this was kind of a turning point for me; it was the start of the second Iraq War. And I was organizing with a bunch of activists, of course. And we were thinking that probably we needed to expand our circle a little bit, that we weren’t going to successfully stop the war if, you know just amongst us. So we decided we’d build bridges, expand our circle, and so the great, anarchist versus communist soccer tournament of 2001 was born.

That’s it. That’s how large my circle was allowed to expand. Building bridges with liberal Democrats? Oh, no way, that was a bridge too far. Local electeds? That was a bridge too far. And that was in 2001.

And I think you’ll agree with me now… in 2020 it’s gotten even worse; that division, that tribalism. We won’t sit down at dinner with people who voted differently than us. We, like, see a mean tweet from our best friend, a tweet that, like, doesn’t fit with our worldview, and all of a sudden they’re canceled.