By PAMELA WOOD | Moments after being elected speaker of the Maryland House of Delegates Tuesday, state Del. Joseline Peña-Melnyk stood before the chamber and contemplated her unlikely journey to that moment.

Born in the Dominican Republic, the Peña family lived in a small wooden house with a leaky tin roof and no indoor plumbing. Some days, she said, there was no food to eat.

When she was 8 years old, the family immigrated to New York City, where Peña-Melnyk was dubbed “abogadito” or “little lawyer” for helping her mother and others by translating at social services offices.

The rest of this article can be read on the Baltimore Banner’s website.

Education is the blueprint of good economic mobility.

But when students aren’t set up with the proper resources to secure a quality education, it’s often low-income families that suffer the most, For Love of Children (FLOC) Executive Director LaToya Clark said. Children from low-income families on average grow up to earn $25,600 annually, according to Opportunity Insights.

D.C. families need better economic mobility, and experts say that starts with kids getting an education and breaking generational poverty cycles. Students without a high school diploma earn $738 per week on average, while those who graduated high school earn roughly $930 per week, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. Contrarily, those with bachelor’s degrees earn about $1,543 per week.

Students from low-income backgrounds have fewer financial advantages on their paths to securing an education, and hardships faced by public schools make it difficult for them to catch up, Clark said.

From local financial and educational assistance programs to strengthening diversity among educators, here are a few ways researchers and advocates are fighting for better economic mobility in D.C. schools. 

Student assistance programs

For many students, falling behind academically is because of circumstances outside of their control, Clark said.

She said teacher shortages, large classrooms and scarce funding can lead to an educational environment not fully equipped to set students on the right path. A one-dimensional education can then hinder future professional opportunities and give students limited economic mobility.

That’s where local organizations like FLOC come in –– to fill in the academic and social gaps often left open by schools. 

Clark said FLOC has multiple services that give underserved students a more individualized academic experience. For the Neighborhood Tutoring Program, students are assessed at the grade level at which they’re performing, not what grade they are in. They’re then matched with a volunteer –– ranging from college students to retirees –– who follows a curriculum that matches the student’s performance level.

There’s also the Pathways Forward Program, an afterschool opportunity for D.C. youth in 7th to 12th grades designed to increase high school graduation rates. The program supports those at risk of academic failure to find a successful way forward, and those in 10th to 12th grades to prepare for graduation or transition to postsecondary programs. Both Neighborhood Tutoring and Pathways Forward are free.

“Everything we offer is designed to close achievement gaps, help our students boost their confidence and ensure young people have the skills and support that they need to succeed in schools and beyond,” Clark said.

And that design is working for students. Clark recalled a young girl who was the oldest of six who felt a need to help her mom take care of her siblings. She was falling behind in school until she found FLOC. The girl credited her ability to go to college and find a professional job to FLOC’s individualized and accessible approach to education. 

FLOC is a reliable resource for D.C. youth to get academic help, but there are numerous other organizations working to close educational gaps and improve the future economic mobility of students.

Minds Matter D.C. helps underserved students find accessible pathways to prepare for and succeed in college. The organization offers mentoring, SAT prep, access to summer enrichment programs and guidance through the college application and financial aid process.

The work Minds Matter does addresses a disproportionate statistic: While roughly 89% of students from “well-off” families attend college, only 51% of students from low-income families do so, according to a report published by Brookings. Minds Matter reported that 100% of its students attended a four-year college or university.

The D.C. Schools Project, a program of the Center for Social Justice, offers academic help and English-language tutoring for low-income and immigrant families. Each semester, roughly 60 tutors assist about 100 students, their families, and other D.C. immigrants. 

D.C. CAP Scholars has a mission to connect youth with financial and academic opportunities that will help them succeed in college. Registration is now open for the organization’s Ward 7 & 8 scholarship, a $12,000 annual scholarship for students who attended high school in those D.C. wards. Those areas encompass communities such as Congress Heights, Deanwood and Anacostia, which are some of the city’s poorest areas.

RISE offers tutoring and college mentoring to underserved populations. Its primary focus is on opportunity academies, including the three in D.C.: Ballou STAY, Luke C. Moore and Garnet-Patterson STAY. These academies are “second chance” schools for students who didn’t complete high school on a traditional timeline.

RISE Executive Director Ricardo Cooper said the organization offers real-time tutors for students in these academies through its Keep Up Tutoring program. RISE also provides summer literacy “bootcamps” and college prep for underserved students.

As a native Washingtonian, Cooper said he wishes opportunities like RISE were available to him as a kid. That’s why it’s so special for him to lead the organization and help D.C. youth rise above the academic and economic barriers he used to face.

“We know that going to college and getting a degree makes you more money,” Cooper said. “Being able to have these programs to support youth in school, to make sure that they feel confident once they graduate high school, to go to college, to feel confident in completing their coursework and just understanding the material is important to raise that poverty line.”

While these programs are crucial to many students’ success, Matthew Shirrell, associate professor of educational leadership at George Washington University, said there are many fundamental solutions to supporting kids that schools should recognize.

Diverse learning opportunities

Shirrell’s research has identified a key link to the positive relationships between teachers and students: diversity.

“Having a more diverse teaching workforce would certainly benefit all students, because it’s like their teachers having access to a library with a whole bunch of different perspectives,” Shirrell said.

He said teachers have a continuously growing list of responsibilities not just academically, but in dealing with social and emotional issues that students bring to school. By having a diverse team of educators in each school, teachers are better equipped to connect with students to turn potential barriers into new pathways.

But achieving this is about more than championing diversity –– it’s a way for students to secure better futures and stay out of the criminal justice system, Shirrell said.

Shirrell pointed to the idea of “exclusionary discipline.” In his research, Shirrell found that Black and LatinX students were significantly less likely to be suspended from school when they had teachers who shared their racial or ethnic background. 

Teachers of different backgrounds than their students tend to rely on harsh disciplinary action, when in reality the situation could come down to cultural misunderstandings or misconceptions, Shirrell said. 

In the long run, this disciplinary bias can disproportionately impact underserved communities. Shirrell said relentless discipline can lead to the students making poor decisions outside of school and potentially ending up in the criminal justice system.

At such a formative age, students need the support, understanding and guidance that only a diverse population of educators can bring.

“You really can’t get that from a book,” Shirrell said. “The best way to learn that is from working alongside somebody who you know is doing things differently than you. There’s tremendous value to having a diverse workforce, whether that be racial, linguistic or economic.”

Securing an education from open-minded teachers is especially important in underserved pockets of D.C., such as Wards 7 and 8. D.C. youth can experience completely different lives and opportunities just by living around the block. Diverse educators can help fill social gaps, but having students from different economic backgrounds share a classroom pushes them to see different points of views and develop their critical thinking skills, Shirrell said. 

Luckily, that sentiment rings true in D.C., a city with high social capital –– or the likelihood of low-income people and high-income people becoming friends or crossing paths. About 50% of the friends of low-income people have high incomes, and low-income people are only 4.7% less likely to friend high-income people they meet, according to Opportunity Insights.

Though there’s never one simple solution in growing economic mobility for students and their families, Cooper, the RISE executive director, said having educators who embody multiple perspectives –– as well as ensure students are aware of the financial and academic support programs available to them –– are strong ways to set a child on a brighter financial and professional path.

“There are a lot of factors that also go along with [improving economic mobility], but chances are better once students feel confident in who they are, confident in what they can do and go to college and excel,” Cooper said.

This article is part of a national initiative exploring how geography, policy, and local conditions influence access to opportunity. Find more stories at economicopportunitylab.com.

Uncloseted Media published this article on Dec. 16.

By NANDIKA CHATTERJEE | “I want to change your last name to make it sound whiter,” Sonali “Alyy” Patel remembers her white girlfriend saying to her while they were spending a quiet evening at home.

Patel felt a wave of grief wash over her. “I [have] to give up my South Asian-ness in order to be in a queer relationship,” she remembers thinking.

Patel and her girlfriend had been dating for some time and were sketching out a future together, even starting sentences with, “When we get married.” But as they built a foundation, she continued to feel marginalized because of her Indo-African heritage.

“I remember I was in [my girlfriend’s] household, and her father made a comment that was racist to brown people,” Patel told Uncloseted Media. When her girlfriend called him out, Patel remembers him responding by saying, “You were racist before you started dating a brown girl.”

Patel, a 29-year-old researcher and LGBTQ activist living in Vancouver, Canada, says comments from girlfriends and society kept popping up. So she began investigating them academically and went on to create the Queer South Asian Women’s Network.

In a 2019 study she published in the Journal of Lesbian Studies, Patel conducted in-depth narrative interviews with nine queer South Asian women in Toronto. She found that these women routinely experienced microaggressions, erasure and pressure to conform to white, Western queer norms, with one participant being told her queerness wasn’t that important during a conversation with her partner. Another said she was advised by friends and family to stick to other people of color when it came to dating.

This discrimination is often compounded in many conservative South Asian cultures where homosexuality is still stigmatized and viewed as a violation of religious or family values. In addition, women are expected to uphold family honor through modesty, heterosexual marriage and self-sacrifice.

A 2019 Pew Research Center survey found that only 37 percent of Indians believe homosexuality should be accepted by society, compared to majorities in most Western nations.

In Patel’s experiences in queer circles, she believes that what often felt like a visceral sense of South Asian identity loss was actually enforced assimilation. “I had no language or framework to understand that this was racism. I grew up in a white town. … People were very openly racist and okay with it,” she says. She adds that in addition to facing racism in LGBTQ spaces, South Asian women face rejection for being queer at home.

“Our families are like, ‘Haha no, you’re not gay,’” she says.

Coming out

Patel says coming out poses unique challenges for South Asian women compared to women of other ethnicities.

In a 2025 study in the Canadian Review of Sociology, Patel interviewed 40 queer South Asian women in Canada and found that staying closeted can protect them from judgment from family and community.

This leaves these women vulnerable to contrasting pressures where their LGBTQ circles want them to come out.

“There was a participant who [was told by another] queer woman who was white that she just needs to ‘try harder to come out to [her] family,’” says Patel. “But that’s not how it works. [She] did try coming out to them, [but] they didn’t listen.” When she did come out, she was told by her family, “You’re not really gay.”

“Our culture prizes silence, sacrifice and family reputation over individual truth, so falling in love with a woman isn’t just about your personal life,” Suja Vairavanathan, a life coach in Essex, England, who works with South Asian women, told Uncloseted Media. “It feels like you’re challenging an entire system.”

Vairavanathan, who grew up in a traditional Indian family, came out later in life.

“For me, it wasn’t a typical ‘I always knew’ story. I didn’t grow up identifying as gay or even questioning my sexuality,” she says. “I spent 20 years in a marriage, raising kids, living what looked like the ‘right’ Tamil woman’s life. Then I fell in love with my best friend, who happened to be a woman.”

After Vairavanathan left her marriage, she came out in a TikTok video where she is smiling ear-to-ear with on-screen text reading: “You’d have to be a little delulu to think that a 42-year-old Tamil divorcee, mum of two sons, eldest daughter, recently turned gay woman had the audacity to show up on social media and live life unapologetically.” Her caption added: “Yet here I am.”

While there were many positive comments on the video, Vairavanathan says the backlash from many folks in the South Asian community was intense: “I had comments calling me ‘a disgrace,’ saying I’d ‘ruined my family’s name,’ even messages telling me I was ‘corrupting Tamil culture’ or that I must have been ‘brainwashed by the West.’ People reduced my whole life to a scandal just because I chose to live honestly.”

Internalized shame

This community rejection can be painful. “It wasn’t strangers attacking me. It was my own people, speaking the same language I grew up with, who decided I didn’t deserve respect anymore. And that hurts in a way racism from outsiders never could, because it feels like rejection from your own bloodline,” says Vairavanathan.

Mental health professionals who work with South Asian clients say that collectivist traditions, where family reputation is often prioritized over individual expression, can lead to the stigmatization of LGBTQ identities.

On the AAHNA South Asian therapy website, they write that understanding taboos associated with sexual orientation “is crucial for effective therapeutic practice, as they can significantly influence mental health and well-being.”

Balancing dual identities

Jiya Rajput, a British Indian content creator and founder of the QPOC Project, says the balancing act of her sexual and racial identity can be tough: “Being both South Asian and queer sometimes feels like having two vastly different identities,” Rajput told Uncloseted Media. “I have tried my best to blend my queerness with my desi identity. However, it is not often easy, with stereotypes and prejudice sometimes making me feel out of place.”

This balancing act may involve navigating stereotypes and racism inside queer spaces, which can have negative mental health outcomes. A 2022 survey of LGBTQ Asian Americans found that discomfort with one’s race or ethnicity within queer communities was associated with lower psychological well-being for those who consider their racial identity important.

Dating as a queer South Asian woman

Balancing this dynamic can make dating challenging. A 2023 study revealed that queer Asian American women are frequently subject to rigid racial dating preferences, with most preferring to date within their own racial group, often as a reaction to feeling fetishized or rejected from white queer spaces.

And even dating within communities of color presents its own set of challenges. “Racism is not exclusively a white people’s issue,” Patel says, noting that she experienced subtle discrimination with another girlfriend who was Punjabi.

“[She] was genuinely trying to relate with me, she just couldn’t,” she says.

Patel remembers her girlfriend holding many assumptions, such as the belief that all South Asians share the same cultural traditions, such as Bhangra, a lively Punjabi dance, or Garba, a traditional Gujarati folk dance performed during festivals.

“It comes from a place of just wanting to be seen for their own culture,” Patel says, noting that many people of color aren’t accustomed to being truly heard or understood. “There’s so much excitement in dating someone from a different background that sometimes you forget to actually listen and receive the culture through their lens.”

When South Asian women do decide to date white women, Patel says it can feel like one “should just assimilate … and try to keep the pressures of being brown [and] growing up in a stricter, possibly patriarchal, culture at bay.”

These pressures in queer spaces caused Lavina Sabnani to leave her culture behind in an effort to feel accepted.

“It felt wrong to push away everything my ancestors carried with them for so long,” Sabnani told Uncloseted Media. “There’s a standard of whiteness at Pride, at lesbian parties, at cultural and social clubs. … Me and the other brown girls never get noticed. It was like you’re invisible within a community where you’re supposed to be counted in.”

“Being a lesbian South Asian means breaking the mold in every possible way,” says Hubiba Ali, a first-generation Pakistani American, self-described “butch lesbian” and food scientist from Chicago. “Pakistani women I was raised around don’t wear boyish clothes, have short, cropped hair, thick muscles, and hairy legs. They do not eat with gusto, laugh and joke boisterously, or take up space. I gave up a lot of my birthright participation in my culture in order to live free.”

Underrepresented and under researched

To make change, Sabnani says South Asian representation in queer spaces is essential. But it’s not happening yet. According to GLAAD’s “Where We Are on TV” 2024-2025 study, Asian Pacific Islanders represented only 11 percent of LGBTQ characters on broadcast, 2 percent on cable and 14 percent on streaming.

Even shows that strive for diversity, like “The L Word: Generation Q,” fail to include South Asian characters. “They had everyone — Black, Latinx, East Asian — but not a single South Asian woman,” says Patel.

She recalls a dating app called Her that featured an image of two white women kissing — one of whom had a tattoo of a Hindu deity.

“They’ll use our gods, but not our faces,” she says.

Outside of Patel’s research, little information exists about racism and homophobia toward queer South Asian women.

And even in queer nightlife, Ali describes feeling sidelined. She says that while there are a few South Asian LGBTQ organizations in Chicago, finding meaningful representation is hard even in those scenes.

“They tend to be hosted in a part of town colloquially known as ‘Boystown,’ which semantically already does not center women or lesbians,” she says. “The events are usually held at gay bars for gay men.”

Finding acceptance

Patel says that to make spaces truly inclusive, folks need to “start by listening to queer brown women, understanding our unique challenges, and amplifying our voices.”

And despite all of these challenges, many queer South Asian women are still surviving and building a more inclusive future.

Artists like MANI JNX, a British Punjabi indie musician, are using music to explore queer South Asian love, trauma and joy. And visual creators like Mina Manzar are building online communities through art. “Funnily enough, here in NYC, so far from Pakistan, is where I’ve found the most vibrant and beautiful South Asian queer community,” Manzar told Uncloseted Media.

As for Patel, she has found a relationship with a Tamil woman that is grounded in mutual respect and cultural exchange. “I’ve learned how to make Tamil food, I’m learning the language, and she comes to Garba with me and dances every year,” she says. Their shared commitment to honoring each other’s traditions illustrates the importance of genuine cultural understanding in queer relationships that goes beyond surface-level acceptance or stereotypes.

Her hope is that the commitment to understanding that she has developed with her partner can become more reflective of how society tries to understand the experiences of queer South Asian women.

“Let’s just address each racialized group as a different racialized group and give them some damn visibility,” Patel says. “It’s not that hard.”