Daily-Dose

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From New Yorker

From Vox

  1. So I think there’s a real way in which queerness and science track with each other.

    You describe yourself in the book as a “griot of the universe, a storyteller.” Could you explain what that means?

    Griot is a West African word that I think comes up in a few different languages across the region. As I understand it, it’s traditionally a community storyteller and oral historian, and I think that’s what I do. I’m a storyteller about the universe. I’m using a very particular language — mathematics — with a set of rules associated with it. But all forms of storytelling have rules that we impose on them.

    You write a lot about invisibility — literally, in the case of dark matter, and metaphorically when it comes to the contributions of women, nonbinary folks, and people of color in the field of physics. At one point, you write about physicists who draw a comparison between dark matter and the lived experiences of Black people. Can you talk a bit about that?

    I literally have this chapter called “Black People Are Luminous Matter.” I have a very clear agenda there that I wanted to hit home. We’re not magical Negros. We feel pain. We feel pain just as much as white people do, despite a widespread belief from medical students and doctors.

    I wanted to look at our physicality, not as a uniform thing but in its breadth. There are a lot of different ways to be Black. But all of them come from baryons, and none of them come from dark matter.

    How are baryons and dark matter different?

    When I say baryons, I mean the stuff that everything we can see is generally made of. When I talk about dark matter, I’m talking about this invisible, transparent thing that seems to dominate galaxy structure. But it’s literally invisible. It doesn’t have a color.

    Is there a better metaphor to be found in physics?

    Yeah, if you really want a cosmic analogy for race and racism, weak gravitational lensing is much more useful.

    Essentially, one of the big lessons of general relativity is that spacetime tells matter how to move, and matter tells spacetime how to curve. So when you have matter in spacetime — say, the sun — the spacetime is being distorted by the presence of that matter. Your spacetime is actually bending. If you get a lot of dark matter together, it can bend light as though it has gone through a funhouse mirror. The light looks like it’s coming from one place when it’s actually coming from another.

    This is called gravitational lensing, and the most fantastical version of it, when you really have a lot of dark matter, is that you can actually see multiple images of a galaxy. There’s only one galaxy, but your telescope sees multiple images because the photons are riding on very funny paths. Sometimes it’s really dramatic and you see multiple images, and sometimes you just see distortion. The question always is, “Is that gravitational lensing, or is that galaxy just weird?” The way that you figure that out is you do statistics. You look at everything and say, “Are all of these distorted in a way that is consistent?”

    I’ve been a Black Jew around white Jews. It’s very easy to be, like, “Are you sure that when that white Jewish professor was asking you if you’re really Jewish, it was because you’re Black?” But get a bunch of Black Jews together and talk to them about their experiences, and you’re like, “Ah, we all seem to experience that same distortion, and how people think it’s okay to talk to us.” That’s systemic. It becomes a lot harder to deny when there’s a systemic picture there.

    The cover of the book The Disordered 
Cosmos: A Journey Into Dark Matter, Spacetime, & Dreams Deferred, which depicts a photograph of deep space 
superimposed on the silhouette of a Black woman in profile. Cover design by Pete Garceau

    The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey into Dark Matter, Spacetime, & Dreams Deferred” was published March 2021 by Bold Type Books.

    You write about the difficulties of joining the field as one of the few Black woman physicists in the country, and the shame you still feel about your B-minus college average. This really spoke to me — I didn’t know cosmology professors have imposter syndrome! How do you keep working through that?

    I should say that I don’t actually think I have imposter syndrome. We often tell people that they have imposter syndrome when people are correctly identifying: “Oh, I don’t belong here.” The system is not built for them. And that’s correct. There is some fundamental sense in which you do not belong.

    Should you feel like you belong? Should the space be a place where you do belong? Yes. But are you wrong for assessing that you don’t? No. That means your capacity for analysis is working. I actually think that we need to be telling people that their ability to identify that is actually a sign of competency.

    I like that reframing. Throughout the book, you point to scientists assuming their work is free from the messiness of society and politics and history. You show us that culture and society are deeply embedded in physics, but few people are willing to have that conversation. Is that starting to change?

    I guess there are two different answers to this question. I feel like things are dramatically different than they were 15 years ago, and I also feel like there’s been very little change. I have a chapter on sexual misconduct and specifically the impact it had on my daily life. We’re still at the point where whisper networks are essential, and that relies unreasonably on women and other minoritized-gender people to do the labor of sharing information that could cause us professional problems if people find out that they are the ones sharing the information.

    This brings to mind the name of another chapter, called “Wages for Scientific Housework.”

    Absolutely. The victims or survivors, however they see themselves, who come forward do an enormous service to the community. It’s an incredible piece of emotional housework and labor to push astronomy to be a better place and safer place. And people who have survived serious incidents of sexual misconduct, myself included, live with an enormous amount of guilt about not naming names in public. But it’s really like, do you feel like climbing on a cross or not? Or do you want to have a life and be doing this work? You know, I like math. I still actually really like math. I want to be able to do that in peace, and it seems like this is the more peaceful option than the alternative.

    Your book ends with a letter to your mother and a section from the Torah. How do your family and your faith fit into your work?

    Until I was 10, I thought being Jewish meant you were a labor organizer, because that was the kind of Jewish family I came from. I know it’s super dorky, but it’s also 100 percent what I thought, coming from an organizing family. I think their influences imprinted all over the book. I don’t think I would be a scientist who thinks so deeply about these social questions if I hadn’t been raised to ask all of these questions, and to think expansively about what it means to understand the world. That’s not just a mathematical question. It’s not just a physical question. It is also a social and a political question.

Americans have an incredible new opportunity to do good.

The Biden administration has begun allowing private citizens to sponsor Afghan refugees looking to start a new life in the US. Under the Sponsor Circle Program, you and a few of your friends can pool together funds to dramatically improve the prospects for an Afghan family.

It’s a desperately needed program: The botched US withdrawal from Afghanistan last year left many vulnerable Afghans behind. Some are now stuck at home under the control of the Taliban, or in nearby countries to which they fled.

More than 75,000 Afghans have made it into the US through Operation Allies Welcome, and around 52,000 of them have been resettled in communities across the country. But the rest are still waiting on US military bases — safe from the Taliban but unable to get jobs, enroll their kids in school, or begin to heal and move on from the trauma they’ve experienced.

Americans can help them get resettled in a community so they can do all those things sooner.

Forming a Sponsor Circle involves bringing together at least five adults in your area and raising $2,275 for each Afghan individual you want to resettle in your community. Sponsors commit to assisting them through the first three months there, which can include locating housing, helping adults find jobs, and registering kids for school.

To be clear, by forming a Sponsor Circle, you’re not directly enabling Afghans to enter the US who otherwise wouldn’t be able to do so.

Instead, you’re speeding up the process of resettling Afghans who have already entered the US through what is known as humanitarian “parole,” but who are stuck on military bases because the official resettlement infrastructure — decimated under the Trump administration — can’t get everyone settled right away.

Don’t underestimate the good speeding up resettlement can do. “Getting off a base and into a community sooner can have a profound impact on a family,” said Elizabeth Foydel, ​​the private sponsorship program director at the nonprofit International Refugee Assistance Project. “It’s the difference between being stuck in limbo for several months or being able to really begin your life again.”

That said, she added there’s another big development coming down the pike: The Biden administration is planning in the first half of this year to launch a fuller private sponsorship program — one that would allow Americans to sponsor an Afghan family to enter the US who otherwise would not be able to.

How to form a Sponsor Circle, in 6 steps

Afghans who’ve been stuck on military bases for months have noted how psychologically taxing it is to live life in limbo. “I stayed at Fort Pickett [in Virginia] for 91 days and some of my colleagues are still at the fort and probably will not be out until mid-February 2022,” Ahmad Zafar Shakibi told CNN. “This caused mass depression.”

Others have described the difficulty of not having enough warm clothes to go around; of being unable to access timely medical care; of feeling misunderstood by US military staff; and of enduring crushing boredom in their barracks or tents day after day. As Esrar Ahmad Saber said of his fellow refugees at a base in New Jersey, ”They just want to get out as soon as possible.”

Here’s how you can help them achieve that.

1) Form a group of five or more adults. If you’re excited about this program, you can reach out to four friends to start a conversation. (You can email them this page or even this article to get the conversation going.)

2) Have each group member complete a mandatory background check. This is a quick online process checking whether you have a criminal record.

3) Have one group member complete an online course. This gives you some tips on how to ensure your sponsor circle will be skillful and successful.

4) Fill out a welcome plan. You’ll want to devote at least a day to this since it requires you to research the resources available in your community for needs like job and language training.

5) Fundraise. You’ll need bank records or other proof showing that you’ve got $2,275 per Afghan newcomer you hope to welcome.

6) Fill out the application form. Once you’ve done steps 1-5, this will only take 10 minutes.

That’s it! If your group is motivated, you can probably complete this process over a couple of weeks of intermittent work. If your application is approved, you can welcome an Afghan family into your community — which research suggests will likely benefit not just the newcomers, but your community as a whole.

Want to sponsor Afghans for immigration to the US? Prepare now.

If you prefer to wait until the US launches its fuller private sponsorship program — the program that provides an immigration pathway so more Afghans can enter the US — it’s a good idea to start preparing now.

This will likely require more money. Canada’s highly successful private sponsorship program, for example, requires a sponsor to raise nearly $23,000 USD to bring over a family of four refugees. The US equivalent of that program could easily require money on a similar scale.

 Jon Cherry/Getty Images

Children play with a ball as they walk with a group of media and military service members in an Afghan refugee camp on November 4, 2021 in Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico.

You might be thinking: Why should it fall to private citizens to fork over so much cash to resettle refugees — that’s the government’s job!

It’s a fair point. That’s why Foydel and others have been advocating for any refugees who come to the US via private sponsorship to be in addition to the number of traditional, government- assisted resettlement cases.

“That is what we are anticipating,” Foydel told me. “We think it’s important to make clear that the US government is maintaining its responsibility to resettle refugees itself.”

Biden’s official target for fiscal year 2022 is to resettle 125,000 refugees (coming from all countries, not just Afghanistan). The government is unlikely to meet that goal because refugee agencies don’t have the capacity to absorb that many newcomers. Their funding is tied to the refugee cap, and since the Trump administration slashed refugee admissions — 2020 saw a historic low of 15,000 allowed to enter — the agencies were forced to lay off staff and shutter offices. They’re now in the undesirable position of having to rebuild even as they try to serve thousands of Afghans with the scant resources they currently have.

Even if the government does manage to resettle 125,000 refugees this fiscal year, though, refugee advocates’ expectation is that private sponsorship would be able to bring in thousands more above and beyond that.

The US spent 20 years in Afghanistan trying and failing to remake the country. Now, Americans arguably have a moral responsibility to assist Afghans suffering the consequences. And considering that refugee programs may have much less support if a Republican wins the White House in 2024, now is the time to fulfill that responsibility.

As my colleague Nicole Narea has written, even if the US was right to withdraw last year, “the ensuing humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan is the product of America’s ill-conceived and failed attempts at nation-building. The US therefore has a responsibility to ensure that Afghans facing danger or persecution as the Taliban reassert their vision of religious law can reach safety in the US or in other countries, whether or not they worked alongside American troops.”

So, if you’re thinking about forming either a Sponsor Circle or a private sponsorship, it makes sense to view it not as an act of charity, but as an act of justice. Neither will fully right the wrong that’s been done, but as Foydel told me, “They’re both incredibly impactful.”

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