UMFA acquires artwork from Chiura Obata, bringing the story of his artistic journey to Utah

Story by CARLENE COOMBS

​​Topaz Relocation Center, Utah, “Very Warm Noon Without Any Wind. Dead Heat Covered All Camp Ground,” watercolor, 1943. Gift of the Estate of Chiura Obata, from the Permanent Collection of the Utah Museum of Fine Arts.

The Utah Museum of Fine Arts (UMFA) has acquired 35 pieces of artwork from the Japanese American artist Chiura Obata. 

Obata’s artwork will join UMFA’s permanent collection starting fall 2022, according to Luke Kelly, associate curator of collections at UMFA. 

“We want to tell the complete art history narrative,” Kelly said in a Zoom interview. “Obata is part of the U.S. art history narrative, but for a long time, that story has not really been told. And we felt that this was a great opportunity … to tell the more complete story of American art history.” 

Obata was a prominent Japanese American immigrant artist during the 20th century who was incarcerated in the Topaz War Relocation Center in Utah during World War II.

Before being placed there, Obata lived in California and taught at University of California, Berkeley, for 10 years, according to his granddaughter, Kimi Hill. He joined the faculty at UC Berkeley in 1932 and taught art courses such as Japanese art history and brush techniques. He was also well known for his artwork of Yosemite National Park

Portrait of Obata taken in 1939 during his time at UC Berkeley. Photo courtesy of the Estate of Chiura Obata.

Obata’s pieces will be rotated through the American gallery in the museum, Kelly said. The collection will include drawings and watercolors of depictions of his incarceration at Topaz and artwork of flowers, animals, and California landscapes, according to the UMFA press release.  

Scotti Hill, an art historian, critic and curator, said she was excited to hear UMFA had acquired Obata’s art. 

“I hope its arrival in Utah can be a catalyst for a larger conversation here in the state about racial injustice and bias,” Hill said, who is not related to Kimi Hill.

“He’s an incredible figure,” she said in a phone interview. 

Healing through art

Scotti Hill said Obata’s work “tells the story of painting as a meditative practice, as a sort of escape from the horrors of the war.”

According to History.com, about 120,000 people of Japanese descent were incarcerated during World War II.

While teaching at UC Berkeley, Kimi Hill said that Obata developed his philosophy of how to react to world events. That philosophy was to always start with your relationship to nature. 

Obata believed “that nature is the greatest teacher no matter what the situation,” she said. “That is where you can ground yourself and you know, learn and move forward and find hope.”

This philosophy is what he taught his students in California and what Obata turned to when he saw and experienced the injustice faced by Japanese Americans during the war. 

“He firmly believed in the power of nature, to help and to comfort people and also the power of art and creativity,” Hill said. 

During his time in Topaz, he painted and sketched the surrounding desert landscape. In other pieces, he included imagery of the barracks and barbed wire fence surrounding the camp, Hill said. Some of his art from this time will be included in the UMFA collection. 

“Some of them were just pure landscapes because again, that was the nurturing, embracing quality of nature that he said himself, he never felt abandoned,” she said. 

This philosophy led Obata to create an art school at the Tanforan Assembly Center in California, where he was incarcerated before being moved to Topaz in Utah. Almost immediately, Obata started talking to his friends and other students about starting an art school there, Hill said.  

Chiura Obata teaching a children’s art class in the Tanforan Assembly Center. While incarcerated, Obata taught art classes to help him and others cope with their circumstances. Photo courtesy of the Estate of Chiura Obata.

He believed art education was as important as food, especially while undergoing a traumatic experience, she said.

Scotti Hill said Obata oversaw dozens of students in the Topaz art school. 

“What I think is really remarkable about Obata is not only his extraordinary career but his commitment to educating others,” she said. 

A powerful American story

Obata’s experience as an immigrant also greatly impacted his art and artistic style, Kimi Hill said. Unlike other Asian immigrants who came for economic reasons, Obata came as an artist, she said.  

“As an immigrant, he took his experience of culture and art history from Japan and brought it to America,” she said. 

Obata was born in Okayama, Japan, and immigrated to San Francisco as a teenager in 1903.

He used traditional Japanese art materials to interpret American scenery through a cultural lens that “was new to Americans,” Hill said. 

Scotti Hill said she believes his upbringing in Japan shaped his artistic identity and he was influenced by the artistic traditions of Japan, such as the Sumi ink art style. 

Kelly, who curates for UMFA, said Obata’s art style blended Western and Japanese techniques providing a “unique American vision.” 

“Chiura Obata’s art style is Chiura Obata,” he said. 

Scotti Hill said Obata had a tremendous impact on 20th-century art.

Chiura Obata, “Topaz War Relocation Center by Moonlight,” 1943, watercolor, gift of the Estate of Chiura Obata, from the Permanent Collection of the Utah Museum of Fine Arts.

“He’s not only one of the most significant Japanese American artists of the 20th century,” she said, “but I would argue, without the qualifier of Japanese American, he is one of the most significant American artists of the 20th century.”

She said much of his impact comes from not just his time in Topaz but from his work building up to that event in his lifetime. 

“Just talking about Topaz, in some ways, limits the discussion of all of the incredible things he had done prior to that point — among them, working as an illustrator for some really prominent Japanese American publications in California [and] doing this incredible series of paintings and works of national parks in California,” Hill said. 

“His life experience and his commitment to art,” she said, “even in the most tragic and unjustified circumstances is a powerful American story.” 

New ‘Day of Remembrance’ for Japanese American internment addresses importance of remembering history

Story and photos by CARLENE COOMBS

In Utah, Feb. 19 will now be recognized as an annual “Day of Remembrance Observing the Incarceration of Japanese Americans During World War II.” 

During the 2022 state legislative session, Utah State Sen. Jani Iwamoto sponsored the bill, S.B. 58, to designate the annual day of remembrance.

Iwamoto said during a Zoom interview that the bill is “very important and should be to all Americans,” especially with the rise in Asian hate and focus on civil rights over the last two years.

Utah Gov. Spencer Cox signed the bill on Feb. 17 making the day of remembrance official.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed an executive order requiring the imprisonment of those of Japanese descent who were living on the West Coast. This order was signed on Feb. 19, 1942. 

In the ensuing six months, more than 100,000 men, women and children of Japanese ancestry from the West Coast were placed in internment camps. A majority of the people imprisoned were American citizens. 

“This is really an example of a law [that] took away people’s rights,” Iwamoto said, and is a reminder that our liberties can be taken away at any moment. 

Diane Fukami is a third-generation Japanese American whose father’s family was imprisoned in the Topaz War Relocation Center in Utah. More than 11,000 people were detained there between 1942 and 1945. A majority of those imprisoned at Topaz, which is about 15 miles from Delta, came from the San Francisco Bay area. At one point during its operation, the prison was the fifth largest population center in Utah.  

The Topaz War Relocation Center was located 16 miles northwest of Delta in central Utah and was surrounded by desert landscape. The camp was in operation until Oct. 31, 1945.

During a phone interview, Fukami said she was “really gratified” when she heard about the bill passing.

“I was … very appreciative of both the governor of Utah for doing this and also the people who supported that,” she said.

She said it is important for Americans to know about Japanese American internment camps because they show how fragile civil rights and liberties are. 

“If people understood that their rights, their liberties can be taken away because of wartime hysteria, hopefully they can prevent that from happening again to anybody else,” Fukami said.

Paul Reeve, a history professor at the University of Utah, said remembering this history can hopefully help us in the present when engaging in civil rights and injustice. 

“When we see people engaging in discriminatory rhetoric, harmful actions, racism, we can look at the experiences of the past and recognize what injustice looks like and be willing to stand in places of empathy, and stand up against racial injustice in the present,” Reeve said. 

At the time, Japanese Americans didn’t fit the definition of what it means to be American, Reeve said, so they were seen as more foreign and less loyal to the United States. 

“I think Japanese internment is another tragic example of how we Americans sometimes can look in on minority groups and make them suspects. Create an identity for them, which suggests they don’t fit the majority identity and therefore, we are justified in passing discriminatory policies against them,” Reeve said. 

In 1943, Topaz was the fifth largest population center in Utah with 8,316 internees.

Reeve also said it’s human nature to dehumanize the “enemy” during wartime, something Japanese Americans fell victim to. 

“It’s a manifestation of our desire for national security but a willingness to sacrifice personal liberty, the personal liberty of people of Japanese descent as a result,” Reeve said. 

Fukami, whose grandfather was incarcerated, said she believes American schools don’t do enough to teach about the Japanese American World War II experience.

She said because students have to study George Washington, the Constitution and the Civil War, they should also learn about other groups and what happened to them.  

“Every school kid has to learn about American history,” Fukami said. “And I think that a small component of it should include what happened with Japanese Americans.” 

Reeve said he believes there is a “concerted effort” among Utah history teachers to teach Japanese American internment in the curriculum so students grow up learning and understanding this part of Utah history. 

“It fits the narrative of Utah history. It’s not an outlier experience,” Reeve said. Similarly, he cited the experience of early members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Latter-day Saints arrived in northern Mexico in 1847, because they were fleeing the United States and then branded as un-American for the rest of the 19th century.”

Fukami said as a Japanese American and an independent producer who has done a lot of work on Japanese American internment, she feels a responsibility to educate others on this part of history.

“We think it’s our responsibility to educate people about what happened during World War II so that it doesn’t happen again to any other group of people in this country,” Fukami said. “And for us, that is one of the biggest challenges is to make sure that people know about the Japanese American concentration camps.”

U of U Asian Americans reflect on affirmative action

Story by ANDRE MONTOYA

Serena Marie Aeschilman is currently studying for her master’s degree in Computer Science and is an ASUU senator for the College of Engineering. Photo provided by Serena Marie Aeschilman.

After she had earned an internship opportunity, Serena Aeschilman, a computer science student at the University of Utah, recalled feeling happy. However, she also recalled being told, “‘you only got that because they’re looking for diversity.’”

Because she is a female Asian American student in the field of engineering, Aeschilman wasn’t sure which type of discrimination she was facing from such a comment. However, she did know the legitimacy of her success was being called into question.

Two intertwined factors have challenged the validity of the successes of Asian Americans, a long-standing set of policies known as affirmative action and a stereotype that has persisted for years known as the model minority myth. Now, past and present U students reflect on the link between the two and their personal experiences.

Affirmative action is being challenged in the Supreme Court by Students for Fair Admissions, who allege that Harvard and other Ivy League universities discriminated against them based on their race. Some of the students in this group are Asian American.

“Personally, I support affirmative action and I hope that universities will still be able to use that as a criterion,” said Darin Mano, former adjunct professor of architecture and a U alumnus, in a Zoom interview with Voices of Utah. “It’s not a criterion of ‘are students capable of succeeding at that school,’ it’s ‘how can we create the best educational experience?’”

According to the U’s Office of Equal Opportunity, Affirmative Action, and Title IX, the university does enforce affirmative action but states there are no quotas and says, “These decisions should never be based on someone’s status based on gender or race and all candidates must meet the minimum qualifications for the position.”

Enrollment rates for first-time Asian American freshmen, undergraduate students, and graduate students all hovered at around 6% for Fall 2020, according to the U’s Office of Budget and Institutional Analysis.

Asian students are among the smallest racial demographics at the University of Utah. Graph by Andre Montoya.

In Fall 2019 at the U, Asian students had the highest graduation rate when compared to other racial demographics, with over 80% of Asian students graduating, according to a diversity report from College Factual.

Though the U does not have a large Asian student body, it is a place of achievement for them.

Mano, who now represents District 5 on the Salt Lake City City Council, remembered that the lack of diversity on campus was difficult at times.

“Oftentimes I felt like I was the only minority in most of my classes at the University of Utah,” Mano said when reflecting on his time at the U. “So, I really cherish the experience of being at a place where they were able to select what the makeup of the student body was going to be so they could ensure there were diverse voices.”

Opponents of affirmative action ask that when it comes to the educational experience, how can it be known whether a student of color who was picked was the most qualified of the pool of potential students? They also ask, how can it be an achievement for students of color if they begin from a perceived disadvantaged position?

Sunwhee Park is studying global communication and is a member of ASUU. Photo provided by Sunwhee Park.

“How many qualified POC (people of color) have been denied opportunities in the past simply because of their race and ethnicity, and how many less-than-qualified white people have been given those same opportunities because of historical precedent?” U student Sunwhee Park said in an email. “I encourage people to think about how the status quo became the status quo, and remind themselves that things aren’t correct just because they’ve always been that way.”

Park, a member of the Associated Students of the University of Utah (ASUU), views affirmative action as a way of demonstrating that people of color can be just as successful when given the same opportunities as white Americans and in the larger picture, create a future where such policies are no longer needed.

But with Asian American students doing well at the University of Utah and supposedly being too successful to be accepted into Harvard, what is holding them back?

Sociologist William Peterson coined the term “model minority” in a January 1966 article for New York Times magazine. The article, “Success Story, Japanese-American Style,” was meant as praise for the Japanese Americans who had spent two decades post-World War II positioning themselves as powerful and successful.

The model minority moniker has typically been applied to East Asian Americans to characterize them as exemplary when it comes to achieving the American Dream regarding the areas of education, employment, and wealth.   

At first glance, one might assume that the model minority myth is a compliment since it praises the accomplishments of Asian Americans and places them as admired and successful members of American society. But its detractors say it’s more akin to a double-edged sword.

“It’s incredibly patronizing and downright fake,” Park said. “The concept doesn’t change how Asians are viewed as perpetual foreigners and still aren’t accepted into many parts of the American cultural and historical narratives.”

The model minority myth uplifts Asian Americans to the level of what white Americans have deemed successful. It’s only a compliment because it separates Asians from other races and accepts them into white spaces, Park said.

As the social and cultural fallout of the coronavirus pandemic in America has shown, Asian Americans are accepted, but only to a certain extent.

Aeschilman, the computer science student, reflected on the amount of anger she felt when confronted with the rise of anti-Asian racism. With the support she felt from the Asian American Student Association chapter at the U, she decided to take her feelings and put them toward something constructive.

Even though she had helped organize a rally in support of Asian Americans, Aeschilman wanted to do more. In January 2022, she wrote a letter to the Utah Daily Chronicle summarizing her feelings, simply titled, “I Am So Angry.”

“I felt like I wasn’t heard when it came to how I felt, or the experiences I’ve had,” Aeschilman said when explaining why she decided to write her letter.

In the letter, she described her experiences facing microaggressions, and how the model minority myth ultimately drowns out the voices of Asian Americans when they speak out against them. But she implores others to reflect on their privileges and support the efforts of the less privileged.

“What I say doesn’t necessarily reflect the experiences of every Asian American here [at the U],” Aeschilman said, “but I feel like everyone should be heard.”

The National JACL Credit Union and the importance of the JACL

Story by DEVIN OLDROYD

On Feb. 19, 1942, more than 125,000 Japanese Americans across the United States were forced out of their homes and into internment camps. Japanese internment was a response to the Dec. 7, 1941, attack on Pearl Harbor carried out by the Japanese military. This time is now remembered as a dark spot in the history of the United States.

Utah was home to one internment camp, Topaz War Relocation Center, located in Delta.

Finding themselves displaced, distraught and disjointed from society, Japanese Americans coming out of internment camps turned to the National Japanese American Citizens League Credit Union as a safe place to bank. The National JACL Credit Union was born out of the idea to help those who had been forced into internment camps assimilate back into society.

This sign showcases a plum blossom, the logo of the National JACL Credit Union. Photo courtesy of Dean Hirabayashi.

According to Dean Hirabayashi, the president and CEO of the National JACL Credit Union, efforts to start the credit union began with Topaz. Individuals who had jobs were being released. They were earning a paycheck but found that banks would not allow them to deposit their money or take out any loans.

“There was a group that wanted to help these people,” Hirabayashi said in a phone interview. “They did some research into a financial institution that is a cooperative, which is a credit union.”

Nearly 80 years later, the credit union still serves Japanese American Citizens League members. It is a relatively small credit union, only having one office in Salt Lake City. According to Hirabayashi, today it serves about 3,800 members and has around $37 million in assets.

Though in the beginning, the credit union was only open to members of JACL, it now serves residents of Salt Lake County. Additionally, by extension, family members of customers of the credit union can bank with it.

“Those people who are members in JACL are our primary members,” Hirabayashi said. “We opened our fields of membership to Salt Lake County, only because [of] the aging population of the JACL.”

Dean Hirabayashi is the CEO and president of the National JACL Credit Union. Photo courtesy of Hirabayashi.

Maya Chow associates the credit union, JACL, the Salt Lake Buddhist Temple and organizations like them with a feeling of camaraderie. She is the daughter of Tatsuo Koga, one of the National JACL Credit Union’s founders. Chow said in a phone interview that it served as a place where everyone knew each other and felt comfortable. In the earlier days, it was a place where Japanese was spoken, something she thought to be helpful.

“I think the Nisei (the child of Japanese immigrants born in the U.S. or Canada) tried hard to fit in as ‘Americans’ so [they] did not speak Japanese to us or try to make us show ourselves as Japanese, especially during the war,” Chow said in a follow-up email.

Chow said the Nisei would borrow money from the National JACL Credit Union during wartime because they knew of nowhere else to go. She described the Nisei as a “tight-knit community back then.”

Hirabayashi said the National JACL Credit Union still aims to help Japanese Americans and members of JACL, over anyone else.

“For us, being able to help the Japanese American community, whether it be for financial services, or small sponsorships or different things like that, that’s one of our main objectives,” Hirabayashi said.

He said all of the current employees at the credit union are members of JACL. Employees are encouraged to join JACL, and Hirabayashi even pays for their memberships.

Additionally, it is not a requirement that employees be Japanese to work at the credit union. Hirabayashi said that individuals of Chinese, Korean and European descent all work at the National JACL Credit Union.

“I’ve been a long-time member of the JACL,” said Larry Grant, chairman of the board of directors for the National JACL Credit Union, in a phone interview. “I joined the credit union initially, just because it was, kind of, an alternate place to put my savings, where, at the time, the credit union wasn’t offering checking accounts so it was a little less accessible.”

Along with the National JACL Credit Union, Grant, who is half-Japanese, said he has done quite a bit of work with JACL in general.

One of Grant’s first responsibilities as a chapter officer was being the vice president of scholarships. He said most JACL chapters offer scholarships to high school seniors and some even offer them to college students.

Both entrances of the National JACL Credit Union feature a torii-inspired gate. In traditional Japanese culture, toriis represent the entrance of a sacred area. Photo by Devin Oldroyd.

“We promote education about Japanese Americans and things like what happened in Topaz,” he said, noting that “120,000 people were incarcerated and two-thirds of them were American citizens. There was never any court hearings, no habeas corpus or anything. [They] were summarily moved out of their homes and forced into these camps.”

Grant said JACL does a lot to educate people on Japanese culture. It hosts cultural presentations and the Japan Festival in Salt Lake City each year. (Due to ongoing concerns about the coronavirus, the next festival is scheduled for 2023.)

It is also very involved in civil rights issues, Grant said.

“We’re not only looking for things that affect Japanese Americans but other Asian Americans and any other minority groups who suffer [from] discrimination because of their race, religion or even sexual orientation. We’ll fight for their rights,” he said.

The building is dedicated to Shigeki “Shake” Ushio, one of the founders of the National JACL Credit Union. Photo by Devin Oldroyd.

Chow, whose father was a founder of the credit union, described JACL as a way to bring Japanese culture to Utah, something she feels is important for younger Japanese Americans.

“I think the generation now doesn’t feel the need that they have to associate with the Japanese [culture] or seek out any Japanese [culture],” she said. “I would think that they would want to carry on, just like us, what their heritage was and try to pass it down to the next generation.”

The National JACL Credit Union is located at 3776 Highland Drive in Salt Lake City. It is open Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.

From suffering to redemption: Asian American Floyd Mori tells his story

Floyd Mori shares how, besides the pain, violence and discrimination, there is still love to give to the Asian American communities.

Story by LEYRE CASARIN

Sometimes you don’t need to be a superhero to do great things. Often, it is enough to simply give love and complete your work with dedication, commitment, and passion. As Floyd Mori did and does, showing uncommon courage.

Shiro Floyd Mori is a farm boy.

He is the seventh of eight children, who was raised in Utah by principled parents and long-suffering siblings. 

Floyd Mori, in the front row, with his older brothers Nobuo, Tom, and Shig in about 1944. All photos courtesy of Floyd Mori.

“I benefited greatly from my older siblings’ example and reputation they had of being stellar students,” he said in an email interview. 

Mori’s father emigrated from Japan in 1906 at age 16. Originally a worker at the railroad in Utah and then a farmer, his goal was to give and help the family have a better situation.

His father returned to Japan to find a wife when he was 30. He did and brought her to the U.S., where they settled in Cache Valley in northern Utah in 1921.

Because of language barriers, Mori’s parents were occasionally speaking English and conducted a social life more at home and at the farm. Mori and his younger brother helped till they left for college.

“Yes, my parents had their struggle with prejudice, but my father was very honorable and soon gained respect from neighbors all of whom were white,” he wrote in the email.

Japanese Americans and other Asians in the U.S. had suffered from racial prejudice and fear for decades. Discriminatory laws that prevented Asian Americans from owning lands, voting, testifying against whites in court and other racial discriminatory laws existed before World War II.

But that brought even more pain to the Mori family. Two of his older brothers got drafted into the U.S. Army and served during World War II. But one of them died while serving.

“It was a major loss to a Japanese family,” Mori said. “My mother suffered greatly and was depressed for years after his death. She regained much self-regard when she and my father joined the LDS (Mormon) Church in their later years.”

As if that wasn’t enough, in 1942, President Roosevelt authorized the secretary of war to prescribe certain areas as military zones, paving the way for the incarceration of Asian Americans in U.S. detention camps. The overwhelming majority of the inmates were Japanese Americans.

“So, during WWII much of the pride turned into shame because of the way they were treated. WWII was depressing for Japanese-born as well as U.S.-born Japanese. Besides being denied citizenship they were sent to desolate concentration camps just because of who they were,” Mori said.

Mori confirmed that the “generation of Asians that experienced a catastrophe in their lives are bound to become depressed with the results. WWII did that to me as I was a child when war was in progress and saw the negative caricatures and ugly depiction of the enemy at that time.”

Allyson Drayton, who is a National Certified Counselor, has written about racial trauma. Mental, physical and emotional health problems associated with racial trauma really build up over time. 

Mori added that he was ashamed of his identity, of who he was, and he avoided all that was Japanese in his youth, such as Japanese food. He was beaten up by older boys when he was a kid. During his teenage years, girls’ mothers would not allow them to date him.

Mori wrote that racial trauma is in violence, hate and taunting: that became part of their lives.

Violence has always been there but more recently recognized by society at large.

“My father-in-law lost a thriving business, his home, his dignity when he was forced from Los Angeles during WWII,” he said. “There was never a recovery from this trauma.”

Floyd Mori with the then Vice President Joe Biden in Washington, D.C. 

Mori added, “There is shame, embarrassment, and humiliation because of these violent treatments Asians receive.”

But from all this suffering, he made his way to redemption. Floyd Mori acted: a powerful weapon against pain.

He became an author and is an educator.

He is a former CEO at Asian Pacific American Institute for Congressional Studies (APAICS) and a former executive director of the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL).

To become who he is now, and to make it where he is now, besides a turbulent path, Mori became also a political activist and a civil rights advocate for minorities, impacting a lot of people’s lives.

Mori was a city council member, a mayor of Pleasanton, California, and an assemblyman.

“I knew he would be a great asset to the city of Pleasanton because of his values, knowledge and fairness. He was elected to the city council and then went on to be Mayor of Pleasanton,” Mori’s former student, Steve Ferguson, said in an email.

Floyd Mori with JACL fellows at an immigration march in Washington, D.C., 2010, while he was the national executive director/CEO of the Japanese American Citizens League.

“I met Floyd Mori in 1966 when I first attended Chabot College in Hayward, CA. He was my Economics Professor. He had always impressed me as a bright, caring, and dedicated man,” Ferguson said.

Sherrie Hayashi, Mori’s co-worker, said in an email, “Floyd is one of my favorite people. His dedication and commitment to advocating for Asian American communities and issues is aspirational. Floyd always has new ideas. He creates opportunities for young leaders and actively mentors and encourages people to collaborate and be engaged in community work.” They worked together on several projects, including the National JACL Convention in Salt Lake City in 2019. 

“Floyd has had a significant impact in Asian American communities, especially the Japanese American community. He has been a leader at the local, state, and national level, serving in leadership capacities in the nation’s oldest and largest Asian American civil rights organization in the United States (JACL) having been established in 1929,” Hayashi added. 

His works, his devotion, his love for his people, along with Asian American advocacy and organizations, are making the difference.

“The new generations of Asian Americans that have seen the results of bigotry in this country are not going to let this continue,” Mori said.

Floyd Mori, left, with Jake Fitisemanu at the Organization of Chinese Americans awards dinner in Salt Lake City, 2019.

Jake Fitisemanu, current West Valley City councilman, recollected good memories of Mori. 

“We first met in May 2015 when I was appointed by President Barack Obama to serve on the presidential advisory committee. Floyd has been an amazingly supportive and insightful mentor who encouraged me to run for local office when I concluded my service in the White House,” Fitisemanu said in an email interview.

“One thing that stands out to me is that despite his demanding schedule and external commitments to family, church, business, etc. he is frequently seen at community events, demonstrating his devotion to community through his presence, his physical, tangible support,” Fitisemanu wrote.

Floyd Mori is like a hero without a cloak. He is that type of person who has been able to face the difficulties of life with his head held high and who looks to the present and the future with a strong and enthusiastic spirit. 

“He provides strategic guidance and overarching direction but allows staff and volunteers the freedom and power to operationalize and implement using their own creativity and expertise,” Fitisemanu said.

Mori is an example to follow, as he is giving voice to and helping Asian American communities by showing courage in daily life, overcoming the obstacles society, the system, and the government throw their way, besides the improvements made for these minorities in the past years. 

“Floyd has also actively supported Pacific Islander communities and initiatives, with sensitivity and respect toward the controversial notion that combining Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders into a single demographic category is not mutually beneficial, and actually disadvantages Pacific Islanders,” Fitisemanu said. 

Without forgetting the past, Mori envisions a better future. “My optimism is in the fact that more Asians are engaging in the political process as voters and as vote-getters running for office.”

The Asian Link Project may be small, but its impact is large   

Story by KRISTAN EHORN

When Asian hate crimes began to rise around the country during the 2020 pandemic, Carrie Shin knew she had to do something about it.  

Shin took a trip from Utah and ended up volunteering in Oakland, California, at a place called Compassion in Oakland. This group helps empower and support the Asian American community. Compassion in Oakland does community service projects, provides companionship, and supports those who are being affected by hate crimes.  

It was at this place that Shin felt especially inspired and motivated to do more when she returned home to Utah and within her own community.  

“Utah is greatly in need of an organization like this,” Shin said in a phone interview.  

So, she started the Asian Link Project in Salt Lake City in late 2021. 

The Asian Link Project is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. The group links the Asian community and volunteers for group assignments to help those in need. Its mission is to promote real connections and unity through partnership, sponsors, events and news.

The group Compassion in Oakland inspired Carrie Shin to start The Asian Link Project in Salt Lake City. Photo courtesy of Carrie Shin.

The team consists of five directors, a digital marketing manager, a Vietnamese community coordinator, an event manager, and two Chinese community coordinators. The nonprofit also has a long list of volunteers as well as a youth leadership team.  

The organization was inspired to help with a response plan for all of the surge of Asian-American hate crimes during the pandemic. As Asian Americans themselves, they knew just how important this type of work was at that time and will forever be.

Shin, the directors, and the rest of the staff are proud of their recent project called The Chaperone Project. It was created to ease the burden of senior and younger Asian Americans who do not feel safe being alone in the community. Free chaperone services are provided to residents in the Salt Lake Valley so they can feel safer. 

The Asian Link Project provides chaperone services to Asian American residents in the Salt Lake Valley to prevent hate crimes. Photo courtesy of Shin.

Another initiative the group was able to be a part of was The Window Project. A local Asian restaurant had its window vandalized. The profanity was etched into the glass, so it wasn’t even able to be cleaned. It had to be physically replaced so the team joined up with some local glass companies to have it paid for and fixed. 

The restaurant owners told Shin the business was barely making ends meet and because the vandalism happened during the pandemic they couldn’t afford to pay for the new window. The news wanted to air the story, but this type of hate crime is so shameful for the Asian community, and for them personally and their business, the owners declined to air the story at the time that it occurred.

“We are able to hear these stories that have brought pain, anger, and sadness, and try to give our community something positive to do with that,” Shin said. 

The Asian Festival is the current venture that the staff works on tirelessly. This festival is being held July 9, 2022. It is being held to showcase speakers, performers, and food culture across the board for the Asian American community. This is a daylong event that takes at least six to nine months of planning, but Shin said in a phone interview, “It is all worth it in the end.”

Utah’s 45th annual Asian Festival will be held July 22, 2022. It will host hundreds of local businesses. Photo courtesy of Shin.

The festival is filled with beautiful displays and vibrant colors. The warmth and smells are all-encompassing, and it isn’t a day anyone would want to miss.  

“So many volunteers have come forward to make this event possible,” Shin said with gratitude. It is because of the efforts from the people in The Asian Link Project that help those being affected by hate crimes, feel seen. Their efforts show that someone is available to be there to support them and that they aren’t alone. They also ensure that the needs are met for those in the community not able or willing to speak out.

Shin received a bachelor of science degree from Southern Utah University in 2002. She is currently a paralegal in criminal law. Her domestic partner and co-founder of The Asian Link Project has an MBA from Westminster College and is the director of finance in his current career. Her partner is also a martial arts teacher in Salt Lake City.

The board of directors at The Asian Link Project all have personal experiences with being harassed due to their ethnicity and came together to find ways to end the toxic behaviors.

Carrie Shin is the director and founder of The Asian Link Project. Photo courtesy of Shin.

Kate Forth is among some of the volunteers for The Asian Link Project. She got involved with the group to help contribute to safety in her community. Forth has spent time helping and donating her time when at all possible. She was able to be a part of The Window Project as well as The Chaperone Project. “I am grateful to be a part of such a wonderful organization,” Forth said in a phone interview.

Shin added, “To help chaperone our Asian senior Americans in need, to help fix damaged property to innocent Asian-owned businesses, to help empower our Asian community to join and be a part of something better than the sad stories on the news. We take a proactive approach to try and get positive results.”  

Equalized health care: a new beginning

Story by JUSTIN GALLETLY

Systemic racism is one of the more contentious topics of debate today.

While racism itself is well known, the matter of institutionalized racism entered the common lexicon following the tragic murder of George Floyd at the hands of a police officer.

While the situation brought attention to the idea of police reform, one area without much publicity is its relation to health care.

Blacks generally receive worse treatment than the average white citizen regarding health care services in America. This can be attributed largely due to both implicit and explicit biases from both health care providers and staffers at hospitals and clinics.

In response to the issue reaching public awareness, many organizations are beginning to take a stand against the issue.

One of them is the University of Utah Health, which declared on Jan. 12, 2021, that “systemic racism is a public health crisis.

A way systemic racism impacts Blacks is discrimination based on insurance status, which itself disproportionately impacts non-white citizens.

Other issues include misunderstandings based on false information regarding biological differences in Black people.

Examples include beliefs that Blacks have less sensitive nerve endings, a higher pain tolerance, and even stronger immune systems than whites.

As much as 73% of white medical students believe at least one, if not more, false misconceptions of biological differences regarding Blacks.

The Office for Health Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion is helping U Health addresses the situation at large.

Dr. Jose Rodriguez is the associate vice president of the organization, and one of its leading voices pushing to see serious policy changes against systemic racism.

Rodriguez took his position in August 2018, and his immediate course of action was to get deans staffed in the individual colleges across campus to address equity and inclusion matters.

Rodriguez explained in a Zoom call that at the time, his boss was unable to meet his request, stating resources weren’t available to make it happen.

Following the murder of George Floyd, this all changed. The deans Rodriguez requested were finally filled and accommodated for.

“We understand the anti-racism war is an individual responsibility of every employee. Our diversity office has to serve as the resource and the guidepost for that kind of work,” Rodriguez said. “We’re helping each of these individual units develop plans to move more towards equity. We’re helping them to revise and review their hiring practices to favor equity instead of favoring the white demographic.”

Rodriguez added, “This injustice is not new, but the George Floyd execution put it on people’s consciousness, with people coming out to say, ‘This is not my America.’ When that happened, it brought Blacks and whites together.”

This turning point subsequently led to mandatory implicit bias training for all staff working across the different divisions across campus.

The training really focused in on making staff members address any unknown prejudices deep within them and learn to be more aware of it so it wouldn’t affect their judgement.

Dr. Jose Rodriguez

This way, all patients, regardless of their race, can receive the same treatment without fear of discrimination.

“Society has this deeply entrenched, so it’s not our job to go around blaming each other and feeling bad about it, it’s our job to end it,” Rodriguez said.

The pandemic also played a substantial role in revealing the racist prejudices in our health care system.

Early in the pandemic, it became apparent that Blacks were far more likely to die of the disease than whites, as much as 3.57 times more likely.

These statistics, combined with the ongoing struggles the coronavirus has brought to daily life and the outcry from the aftermath of George Floyd, set in motion a chance to change the U Health’s standards.

“What COVID did is it laid naked the intensely racist nature of our society,” Rodriguez said.

As a result, the U Health just hired a senior diversity leader, Mikel Whittier.

His position only exists thanks to the Office for Health Equity, Diversity and Inclusion insisting on a need for more diversity officers in the delivery line space at the clinic.

“The hiring of my position is the start of action in moving strong language and a strong foundation that has already been set both by the Health Sciences Department and the hospital into action,” Whittier said in a Zoom interview. “What we see across the country, especially over the summer, is there’s a lot of statements made about equity, diversity, and inclusion and how there’s zero tolerance, but we see more of the same across the institution. When there’s time for action, there’s inaction in which you become complicit in racist behavior, so this is a step in that direction.”

As a Black man himself, Whittier says he knows all too well the realities of systemic racism, given he’s been on the receiving end of it.

In 2018, he lost his stepfather to cancer largely due to the inequities in place related to cancer outcomes, with Blacks far more likely to die of the disease than whites tend to.

The consequences Whittier faced due to systemic racism even stretch back to when he was born.

“If you look at infant mortality rates amongst Black women dying of complications of birth, my mom had to stay in the hospital for six additional months after I was born, and that’s a critical time as a newborn to not have your mother there,” Whittier said.

These experiences helped shape his convictions and channel them into working to fix the system.

The different staff members at the Office of Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion are all working together in specific tasks to tackle the problem and put an end to it.

Mauricio Laguan, a manager for recruitment and retention, explains some of the ways the Health division staff have managed to make positive changes to staffing policies.

Mauricio Laguan

“We’re developing an on-boarding training for new employees to understand how the University of Utah will protect them from discrimination and microaggressions from patients and other co-workers,” he said during a phone interview.

Laguan believes one of the harder challenges, especially for a state with as little diversity as Utah, is getting more people of color hired on for medical work.

“Long term, the things that are going to need more time is diversifying the people that work here. Having more Black doctors, having more Latinx doctors, more Polynesian doctors, more Pacific Islander doctors,” Laguan said.

Despite these challenges, work is being done to hopefully make a positive change for not only Blacks but all people of color at the U’s Health services.

For everyone at the Office of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, this challenge is only the beginning.

Indeed, for all involved, the fight to end systemic racism never ends.

How Black Lives Matter Utah is tackling police reform

Story and infographics by TAESHA GOODE

Lex Scott is no stranger to a challenge.

“The movement is about hard, backbreaking work, and pain, and trauma, and death, and injustice every day of your life. That’s what the movement is about, and now the crowds have dispersed, but the work is still here,” said Scott, founder of Black Lives Matter Utah, in a Zoom interview.

As she was talking, she was driving through downtown Salt Lake City in a caravan demanding justice for the murder of George Floyd.

For activists like Scott, Black Lives Matter didn’t end after last year’s nationwide protests. In fact, it began long before. As always, she’s facing the fight head on.

The death of George Floyd in May 2020 spurred a sudden national wave of support for Black victims of police brutality. In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, injustice against African Americans took center stage, as people of every race, religion and gender gathered to speak the names of victims like Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Rayshard Brooks, and Elijah McClain.

Hashtags like #BlackLivesMatter and #ACAB (All Cops Are Bad) gripped social media, dashcam videos of racial profiling and violence flooded the internet and protests rocked the streets of both conservative and liberal states. It seemed a turning point for activists who had been fighting for this sort of publicity for so long. Scott was thankful for the awareness it brought, but she knew the momentum would be short-lived.

“The thing about the movement is people come and go. When there’s a high-profile officer shooting, you get a big crowd of people and then that crowd goes away, and then when there’s another shooting, they come back, and then go away,” Scott said. “Last year, thousands upon thousands of people came out, and I didn’t get excited ‘cause I’ve been here for seven years. I was like, I don’t care about you!” she said, laughing, “I care about police reform.”

For Black Lives Matter Utah, the most important initiative right now is changing the way police operate on a systemic level. Since the chapter’s founding in 2017, independent of the national Black Lives Matter movement, volunteers have been speaking out against police violence in Utah and around the country. Their current plan to tackle police brutality: take it to the capitol.

“We picked up two senate seats, we have several police reform bills passed in Utah, and the Justice in Policing Act passed the house,” Scott said.

The George Floyd Justice in Policing Act of 2021 is a national police reform bill directed to increase accountability and transparency in law enforcement, as well as implement specialized sensitivity training.

“The Justice in Policing Act gives us independent oversight of police, it gives us data collection, [a] police misconduct database, it gives us qualified immunity reform, it regulates dash cams in police cars,” Scott said. “[It] is the most important thing I’ve ever seen. It is on the same level as the civil rights act [and] it is just as powerful.”

To Rae Duckworth, vice president of Black Lives Matter Utah, that power does not go unnoticed. “I want the change more than anybody.”

According to Mapping Police Violence, in 2020, U.S. police killed 1,127 people.

Bobby Duckworth became one of those victims in 2019.

The loss of her cousin in an officer-involved shooting in Wellington, Utah, spurred Rae Duckworth’s involvement with Black Lives Matter Utah. “The pain of losing someone from a police officer — it’s a different type of pain,” she said in a Zoom interview. “Ever since then, I just dived into actively trying to make changes.”

In 2020, the Salt Lake Tribune reported, Utah Police fired at 30 people — 17 of those incidents being fatal.

The disproportionate policing of People of Color in Utah reaches much deeper, as highlighted by Amber McFee, a lawyer volunteering with the chapter. Although McFee got involved with Black Lives Matter Utah shortly after the nationwide protests in 2020, the discrepancies in charges shocked her.

“It depends on if you’re Black or white. If you’re white, you’re getting disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct,” McFee said in a Zoom interview. “If you’re Black, you’re getting inciting a riot, you’re getting charged with felonies.”

The Justice in Policing Act targets all this and more. And although the national movement has lost momentum since Summer of 2020, Black Lives Matter Utah makes it a point to showcase the power that comes from speaking up in your local government.

“The movement is losing its trendiness,” Duckworth said. “People can stay active by participating in their local committees and their local agendas with their representatives. Because speaking on behalf of your community members, those are protests in themselves, and people need to realize that.”

Although Black Lives Matter Utah knows the power in local government, creating a nationwide change is Scott’s biggest priority. “People don’t get it, we are this close,” she said. “You want to come out and protest all day, well how about you pick up the phone and call a senator.”

The end of the legislative session in Utah, however, means that, for now, the chapter can focus on other issues. Alongside gathering signatures for upcoming ballot initiatives, the chapter recently launched Utah’s first Black history museum.

Black Lives Matter Utah has also continued its work with the Salt Lake City Police Department’s Community Advocates Group (CAG), which holds biweekly public meetings on police transparency practices.

In addition, Duckworth said the chapter has become a great resource for stopping police abatements of unsheltered encampments during COVID-19.

“There are a lot of systemic issues that we can approach,” she said. “There is always growth or change to be implemented. I just think that, if people know what they want to change in their community, if they figure that out and they just go for it — that in itself is a protest.”

McFee, the lawyer volunteering with Black Lives Matter Utah, knows that dealing with systemic racism means first facing the facts. “You need to read and research things that you aren’t comfortable with,” McFee said. “Teach the truth, you’re not going to learn it in school so teach your kids the truth. I think that’s where we have to start to get to the big finish.”

For Lex Scott, who’s been active in the community for the past seven years, it’s about holding on and holding tight. At the start of this journey, “I didn’t know what I was doing,” she said.

But it wouldn’t be a challenge if it was easy. By pushing forward, she found a solid community of people who want to make real change.

She reminds us to stick to our values. “Be intersectional in your activism — make sure it includes all marginalized groups.  … Don’t expect the world to change overnight. You just gotta stick to your activism and change the world.”

The Salt Lake Commission on Racial Equity in Policing outlines its latest diversity initiative

Story by ZOE GOTTLIEB

On March 2, 2021, the Salt Lake Commission on Racial Equity in Policing issued its recommendations for the city council in tackling prevalent racial disparities within the Salt Lake City Police Department.

In a memo submitted to the Salt Lake City Council, the commission proposed that the SLCPD hire more diverse officers specifically for its Field-Training Officer Program.

According to the commission, having a diverse program is essential because it sends a powerful, “unconscious message” to officer cadets that people of color are “important in the fabric of SLCPD.”

As it stands, six of 67 FTOs, or roughly 9%, identify as people of color, according to Fox 13 data.

Utah’s law enforcement body in general consists of very few Black officers. Of all the self-reported officers in Utah, the number of Black officers is around .5%, or 25 in 5,000.

Those numbers are likely to be even lower after five police officers, including two officers of color, reportedly left the SLCPD due to increased circumstantial stress, as reported by the Deseret News.

Darlene McDonald, a commission member, says part of the challenge of recruiting Black officers comes down to two things. The first is getting out-of-state recruits over the culture shock of relocating to a place with a large, predominantly white Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints population.

Darlene McDonald is a member of the Salt Lake Commission on Racial Equity in Policing. Photo courtesy of Darlene McDonald.

“A lot of people of color really struggle living here,” McDonald said, “because of that lack of diversity.”

The other reason McDonald cites for the lack of diversity in the police department is the tendency of officers to racially profile and arrest Black community members for what are considered lesser offenses, a phenomenon called overpolicing.

“Taking into account that many men of color especially are targeted and overpoliced and end up with criminal backgrounds because of that overpolicing, those are some of the things that disincentivize people of color from becoming law enforcement,” McDonald said in a Zoom interview.

McDonald said she believes that the hurdle of attracting people of color to the law enforcement profession can be overcome if departments are willing to introduce some kind of incentive, such as relocation packages or signing bonuses.

Fred Louis is a former sergeant and one of the few retired Black officers within the SLCPD. Louis dedicated 28 years of his life to law enforcement and even worked for a time as a lead trainer in the police academy. Since 2010 he has been running his own judo business, the Zenbei Martial Arts Academy.

Like McDonald, Louis is aware of Utah’s more homogenous culture and how it can affect diversity hiring initiatives. “We got so many cultures, for example like in New Orleans we can pull from — but here, it’s kind of tough,” he said, reflecting on the cultural differences between where he grew up and Salt Lake City.

Louis also said the SLCPD would benefit from drawing community policing concepts into its day-to-day practices.

Community policing, as defined by the DOJ’s Office of Community Oriented Policing Services, “support[s] the systematic use of partnerships and problem-solving techniques to proactively address the immediate conditions that give rise to public safety issues.”

What does community policing mean to Louis, one of the few retired Black officers in the state of Utah? “[It means] you just have to get out there and have police officers become part of the community fabric — not just get in their cars and go from call to call without ever making contact with people in the neighborhood,” Louis said in a phone interview.

The Ogden City Police Department serves as perhaps one of the best examples of community police work. The department has divided its city into eight districts, with each of the eight Community Police officers belonging to their own district, according to its website. The police force also consists of 230 employees, including a homeless advocate and a victims’ advocate, according to Diana Lopez, community outreach coordinator of the department.

Lopez said that in her experience with the position, it is essential to have a listening ear within the department “whether there is an outcome or not.” For her, this means getting to know the neighborhood, and having someone on hand to “hear [citizens’] concerns.”

While input from and police exchanges among community members is beneficial to citizen-police relations, the officers themselves can also receive intrinsic rewards from it.

Fred Louis’ podcast Judo Ya-Ya. Having opened up his own judo practice in 2010, Louis’ podcast is all about sharing the lessons of judo among youth. Courtesy of Fred Louis.

Louis said, reflecting on his time spent as a community resource officer at Highland High School, “I get a lot of gratification out of it, right? I mean a person, they grow up, they’re doing good in life — that makes me feel good.” In all 28 years, Louis recalls this as being the proudest accomplishment of his career.

Since retiring, Louis has spent his time re-engaging with the community in new and equally important ways: teaching young kids the art of judo. In Louis’ perspective, judo and police work are intertwined.

Concepts from judo came into play in his lessons at the academy, where he learned about a practice of something called verbal judo.

“We were taught in the class OK, go up to the person and try to lower their anxiety level,” Louis said of everyday practices police officers are expected to employ, using the classic traffic stop as an example. “Verbal judo is all about letting people have their dignity and respect.”

Steven L. Johnson, CEO of Luke, Johnson & Lewis and Utah Black Chamber Chair, speaks about activism for Utah’s Black community

Story by SUNWHEE MIKE PARK

Steven L. Johnson watched in awe, as the legendary California Congresswoman Maxine Waters commanded the attention of a crowd in Utah’s prestigious Alta Club – an institution that formerly did not allow memberships to women or Black people. He could not believe that he was seated at her table, much less that they had just discussed the growth of Utah’s Black economy together. A surreal sense of pride washed over Johnson in that moment, as it dawned on him that in this room, he stood among Congresswoman Waters’ ranks as a revered and respected activist.

But it would take nearly a decade of devotion to Utah’s Black community before such a moment could arrive.

In 2000, Johnson packed up everything he owned and moved to Utah from Denver, Colorado. A freshly divorced ex-sister-in-law who needed help getting settled was reason enough for him to make the arduous 500-mile move. This decision was the first of countless others in Johnson’s new life in Utah in which he would move mountains to help those he cared for.

Throughout his first year in the Beehive State, Johnson became increasingly aware of the stark contrast between his native Denver and Salt Lake City. Chiefly, he noticed that the Black community in Utah was not only small (comprising roughly 0.7% of the entire state’s population then), but seemed also to be stalling and struggling.

Steven L. Johnson is chair of the Utah Black Chamber, and CEO of Luke, Johnson & Lewis. He is a devoted activist who has served UT’s Black community for almost a decade. Photo courtesy of Steven L. Johnson.

At this time, Johnson was used to the thriving Black community in Denver, which he recalled was akin to those of Black meccas like Atlanta or Detroit. In Denver, Johnson reminisced, Black-owned businesses had longevity and were often core components of the city’s booming economy. In Salt Lake City, however, he had trouble finding Black businesses that branched out from the archetypal barbeques or barbershops.

After a decade of wondering who and where the state’s Black professionals were, Johnson finally found himself at the Utah Black Chamber’s annual community barbeque hosted in Sugarhouse Park.

At long last, there they were. Utah’s Black business owners, professionals and community leaders. Observing Utah’s Black community at large for the first time, Johnson finally felt at home in a land that had only been unfamiliar to him until then. “I met more Black people at that event than I had seen in the [years] that I had been here,” says Johnson over the phone in a surprisingly youthful voice. “It was really eye-opening. It made me feel comfortable.”

There he met James Jackson III, founder of the Utah Black Chamber, known then as African Americans Advancing in Commerce, Communication, Education and Leadership (ACCEL). The fateful meeting, spurred on by Johnson’s wife (then-girlfriend), sparked the flame that produced two of Utah’s most revered Black leaders today. “When I met James, it was like a new beginning,” Johnson says, “[like] I might have the chance to help make a difference or a change here in Utah.”

Inspired by Jackson’s passion and devotion to the growth of Utah’s Black community, Johnson found himself increasingly involved in activism as well. But his methods transcended attending community events or facilitating networking between Black Utahns.

In 2011, Paul Law Office – where Johnson worked as a collections manager – shut down indefinitely. Johnson, however, did not lament his new unemployment. Using his final paycheck, Johnson jumped headfirst into entrepreneurship. He founded Luke, Johnson & Lewis (with partner Preston Lewis), a debt arbitration business that specializes in third-party recovery and collecting receivables.

For Johnson, this new venture was more than a simple means to earn profit. As one of the state’s handful of Black CEOs, he wanted his business to serve as a “beta test” for other pioneering Black businesses in Utah. By watching and learning from Luke, Johnson & Lewis, he hoped, future generations of Black-owned Utah businesses would thrive like those he remembered from his years in Denver.

Meanwhile, James Jackson had plans of his own for Johnson. Seven years into the growth of the Utah Black Chamber, Jackson was eager to increase its influence on a statewide level. In order to achieve such a feat, he required the strategic expertise and interpersonal skills of a seasoned legal professional. He brought Johnson on as the Black Chamber’s board chair in 2015, and later made him the chair of its membership committee as well. “Based on [his] leadership, experience, and desires … I felt [these positions] fit him the best to help grow the [Black] Chamber,” Jackson says in an email.

James Jackson III (left) and Steven L. Johnson receive awards from the Omega Psi Phi Fraternity Inc. for their work in the Utah Black Chamber in 2018. Photo courtesy of Steven L. Johnson.

Nicknamed the Black Chamber’s “Swiss Army knife,” Johnson took on a range of responsibilities – from strategizing the expansion of the Black Chamber’s membership, making connections with sponsors and spotlighting member businesses on a monthly basis, to furthering plans to establish the long-awaited Black Success Center.

Johnson, in addition to running his own business, was now leading the state’s largest Black-based organization. Yet his activism was still only in its fledgling stage.

Johnson explains that his personal philosophy forbids him from feeling as though he has ever done enough. “If you feel satisfied, you’ve closed the book. The chapter’s over,” he says. That’s why, in 2017, Johnson began a partnership with state lobbyist Craig Hulinsky to start the Good Deed Law Project.

Johnson explains that the Good Deed Law Project was founded with the goal of helping people in debt find alternative ways to pay off or reduce their overdue payments. Acting as the project’s Debt Initiative director, Johnson discovered methods to persuade businesses to write off debts as charitable donations, while allowing debtors to work off their sum in community service or work hours.

So far, Johnson’s debt arbitration model at the Good Deed Law Project has resolved $385,000 of debt while producing 10,000 community work hours. Johnson explains excitedly that his model has put over 500 debtors back on track to financial stability.

“He sets an example … in the Black community. His lifestyle is to be copied,” writes Rev. France A. Davis in an email interview. Davis, pastor emeritus of the Calvary Baptist Church, is another one of Utah’s highly revered Black leaders and an individual that Johnson considers his personal mentor. As part of the latest addition to Johnson’s activism, he and the reverend have recently become members of the Racial Equity in Policing Commission for Salt Lake City. There, the pair are able to review and make recommendations to the city’s police department about its policies, specifically regarding racial biases.

Twenty-one years ago, Johnson arrived in Utah without a job, without a home, with only the feeling that he was needed, that he could help. Now, as one of the state’s most active and respected Black leaders, his foundational drive to help those in need remains the same. Despite his many titles and roles – CEO, board chair, director, commissioner – Johnson’s activism is only just beginning.

“Utah’s Black community is growing … and I want to be there to witness [its] development,” Johnson says humbly about the very community that could not exist today were it not for his tireless efforts.

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