Global immigrant rights leader to step down after 30 years Part 1

Immigration and international migration policy expert Cathi Tactaquin has directed National Network for Immigration Rights since the late 1980s.





Loud and proud: Tactaquin takes her cause to the streets.
Cathi Tactaquin (center) moderates 2018 Intergovernmental Conference to Adopt the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration in Marrakesh.
Amid pussy hats, NNIRR chief leads women’s march.
Life partners and allies: Lillian Galedo and David Bacon, Cathi Tactaquin and Walter Yonn, Tessie Zaragosa and Thelma Estrada.
At NNIRR planning retreat: Eddie Canalas, Lillian Galedo, Monica Hernandez, Jennifer Ferrigno, Susan Alva, Isabel Garcia, Janice Rosheuvel, Pancho Argüelles Paz y Puente, Cathi Tactaquin and Monami Maulik.

Adopted from original publisher with permission from INQUIRER.NET

OAKLAND, Calif. – You won’t see Cathi Tactaquin’s photos plastered in Filipino American publications in traditional or social media.  She is not among the usual figures that make grand entrances air-kissing the wealthy and powerful.  That’s just not how she rolls.

Where she stands out is on the streets, waving banners and signs in solidarity with the exploited and marginalized, or on international panels demanding equity.

Unless you’re a global activist, community organizer, social justice advocate or a student of Filipino American history, you may not be familiar with her name.  But you would certainly be witnessing the consequences of her life’s work nevertheless.

Since the mid-1980s, the executive director of National Network for Immigrant and Refugee Rights (NNIRR) has worn wings on her feet developing strategies to effect fair and humane immigration policies around the world.  She co-founded the Oakland-based organization with a multisectoral group of allies that had campaigned for immigration reform and influenced the Immigration & Control Act of 1986 (IRCA).  Radical changes resulted, most importantly the legalization of millions of undocumented.  On the downside, IRCA also criminalized undocumented immigrant workers and militarized the southern border, redoubling the activists’ incentives to mobilize globally and organize formally.

This month Tactaquin is stepping down from the post she held for three decades.  She has no immediate plans, she told INQUIRER.NET, echoing community service lifers’ refrain that she’s “leaving the job but not the movement,” keeping her options open on the “many ways to help contribute to positive change.”

She won’t fade away into the sunset.

Two months ago, invitations began circulating for a gratitude party to honor Tactaquin’s “leadership and commitment” from those who’ve soldiered on with her as students and then as changemakers.

The three-hour celebration June 15 at the Ed Roberts Campus Atrium in Berkeley will reunite the honoree’s colleagues Elizabeth Cabraser, David Chiu, Paula Collins, Bill Hing, Bob Hirsch, Eva Paterson, Brad Seligman, Cheryl Stevens, and Bill Tamayo, otherwise known that evening as The Coolerators band.  They will be joined by Black Alliance for Immigrant Justice founder Gerold Lenior, NNIRR board members from South Texas Human Right Center and La Coalicion de Derechos Humanos Eduardo Canalas and Isabel Garcia, Global Coalition on Migration leader Monami Maulik, Carol Barton, comedian Nato Green and the Ben Luis Band at the tribute that will benefit Tactaquin’s erstwhile home organization.

Engineering the celebration is fellow California-born Lillian Galedo, Tactaquin’s sister in arms.  They first met at the Filipino People’s Far West Convention in Berkeley in 1975, a telling moment for Galedo, herself a lifelong community activist.

“She was facilitator and MC for the assembly session of a two-day conference of over 200 attendees,” Galedo remembers the woman at the center of a decisive point in the Filipino American identity movement. “Not an easy assignment given that the audience of young people – some as young as 12 years – was at times distracted by the freedom of being away from home. She managed well, keeping the discussion at a high level.  She was probably 22 years old at the time. I was very impressed.”

They bonded over the course of their convergent passions and similar rural origins.

“We started NaFIRO (National Filipino Immigrant Rights Organization) then CDIRR (Committee to Defend Immigrant & Refugee Rights) a couple of years later, as the national debate on immigration reform was heating up, and the INS (Immigration & Naturalization Service, precursor of Homeland Security) was aggressively conducting raids.  NaFIRO was directed to organizing the Filipino community.  CDIRR was directed to organizing the broader immigrant rights community in the San Francisco Bay Area,” Galedo traces the root of their alliance that began with their common opposition to the Marcos dictatorship in protest against its atrocities on Filipinos on both sides of the Pacific.

“In the mid-1980s – along with a strong core of national immigrant rights leaders – we started the National Network for Immigrant & Refugee Rights.  She was not the first ED, but she has been the ED for 30 of the Network’s 33 years. She has been the anchor of NNIRR that made it possible for it to continue to this day to fight the immigrant rights fight,” says Galedo, who served over 30 years as executive director Filipino Advocates for Justice, formerly known as Filipinos for Affirmative Action.

For most of the headliners at the June 15 party, directly experiencing inequity was the fount of their activism.

“As a youth I was aware of my own family’s difficult circumstances – my father was a farmworker and we grew up in the Salinas Valley, without many resources. But (I) did not really understand the bigger context of class and race – of history – until I went to college, ” Tactaquin shares her chosen path.

Catherine Tactaquin was the only daughter of the four children of Rodrigo Rivera Tactaquin, who came to the US from Sual, Pangasinan, in 1927 to work as a farmworker, and Ruby Sharp Tactaquin, an Oklahoma native her daughter describes as English, French, Cherokee, Chickasaw, and Choctaw.

Cathi and her three brothers grew up in Buena Vista in the country’s Salad Bowl.  She attended elementary through high school 10 miles away in Salinas.

She has always been forthright about her beginnings as a “farmworker family” with limited resources, counting her fortune to “receive financial aid and scholarships to attend UC Santa Cruz and UC Berkeley.”

While many of her contemporaries in San Francisco turned to hallucinogens to escape the conflict simmering in the Pacific with the deployment of the first US troops in Vietnam, Tactaquin dived deep in the discourse around the impact of the war on the land both of her birth and her ancestry.  She found herself, discovered her rich heritage and a calling.

“That was in the 1970s and like many other Filipino Americans, I was exposed to the range of issues of the day – the Vietnam war and what was taking place in Southeast Asia, and how the Philippines was connected as a US military staging ground,” she recalls.  “And the rise of ethnic studies.  One of my professors at UC Santa Cruz even held a little study group on Philippine history as there was no class offered – held in my dorm room! I was made aware of organizing among young Filipinos in the Bay Area when organizers from the International Hotel struggle came to the campus to speak; I remember Pete Almazol in particular – and I later worked for him in Filipino Immigrant Services (FIS) in Oakland.” (FIS was a program of Filipinos for Affirmative Action, the early incorporated name of Filipino Advocates for Justice, Judith Olaes, longtime administrative assistant at the Oakland nonprofit told INQUIRER.NET.)

For her senior year she transferred to UC Berkeley where her budding activism eventually blossomed.

“I became involved in groups like the National Committee for the Restoration of Civil Liberties in the Philippines, and the Union of Democratic Filipinos (KDP). I had been a community studies major in college and for me, community activism in the Filipino community was a natural progression.”