March 16 marks the third anniversary of the spa shootings in Atlanta that took the lives of seven women, five of whom were Korean. 

When Lawrenceville native Julia Kim heard the news from Charleston, South Carolina, where she was living at the time, she felt her world had “turned upside down.” But for those around her at work and church -- who were mostly Black or white -- it was as if nothing had happened. 

“I realized that they didn’t care who I was. I was just another number in the seat,” Julia said. Even though she had intended to leave the Korean churches she grew up in behind because of clashing values with first-generation leaders, she went back after realizing that at least she could feel more connected to others there. She now attends REACTS Ministry off McGinnis Ferry Road in Suwanee, which serves around 130 people each Sunday.

Julia is among a growing number of second generation Korean Americans who have sought out Korean and Asian-majority churches after the spa shootings, according to local pastors and community members who spoke to 285 South. Her church, REACTS Ministry, is among an estimated 170 Korean churches in the Atlanta metro area, responding to the needs of a community that has grown by 9% in the past decade.

“I followed REACTS on social media, and [pastor] Steven [Kim] had always… address[ed] current issues in an authentic way,” she said about her decision to join the church.

Like Steven, Peter Lim also hasn’t shied away from plugging into current issues, even if they’re controversial. He’s the head pastor of 4Pointes, an Asian American church in Dunwoody, where more than half of its estimated 200 congregants identify as Korean. He’s spoken out against anti-Asian bias and White Christian nationalism. 

In the wake of the shootings, he said 4Pointes “had a lot of people come to the church because the other churches they were going to were not addressing [the spa shootings]. Some immigrant churches also didn’t talk about it, but in majority church cultures, it definitely wasn’t talked about. They felt invisible; they felt hurt and overlooked.”

These churches mark a departure from the churches of their elders - which played a critical role for first generation Korean immigrants as community gathering spaces and access points to social services.

Julia said she broke away from the Korean churches she went to when she was younger because of a difference in values. “There is no culture of support or listening. It’s all about power dynamics,” she said. 

As kids get older though, said Steven, they might feel a lack of connection in multicultural churches, so “they [try] to reconnect with their heritage and culture by joining a Korean American church.” 

Hannah An, who attends 4Pointes in Dunwoody, said the events of the last few years have had a real impact on her, and the church has provided her an outlet for her feelings. “With everything happening around AAPI hate, Covid, and racism, this took it to another level. I had a feeling of being isolated, and an even deeper wounding of my own heart for my own people,” she said. In addition to being a preschool teacher’s assistant and praise team leader at 4Pointes, she joined the newly formed Asian American Christian Network of Atlanta and participated in rallies that advocated for Asian American voices in the broader evangelical church.

Steven thinks there’s a need for more second and third generation Korean churches, that are especially welcoming for Korean Americans who need a safe space. “It’s a reminder of the church that you grew up in, but with differences.”

Just two miles down the road from Steven’s ministry in Suwanee is Remnant Community Church, where pastor Daniel Kim gathers around 80 people for Sunday services. He describes his ministry as “very unapologetically Korean American.” 

“Church is family. It's not perfect, but nowadays, I think Koreans just want a place to gather where the most noticeable thing is not that we’re Korean,” he said. “This is a place where I don't have to be reminded that I'm different. This is a place I can belong.”

As for Julia, she now helps lead the college group of around 50 students at REACTS Ministry, most of whom are Korean American like her. “People are tired of the churches they grew up in...it doesn’t work. We have to come up with a way for the church to start working for us by asking more questions about what is authentic [to us].”

Rafael Olavarría was scrolling through Instagram at his Atlanta home in late February when he saw a post from a local Univisión reporter about the tragic killing of nursing student Laken Riley at the University of Georgia in Athens. 

“I thought, ‘Oh no, here it comes,’” he recalled. “Every time there’s a crime, and the suspect is an immigrant, the focus of the story…is the perception that immigration equals crime,” he said.

Born in Venezuela, Olavarría also soon saw signs of worry from compatriots in Georgia about “being stigmatized,” as the accused killer was also Venezuelan.

He swung into high gear, researching and writing an article for the two-year-old Spanish-language project, “Factchequeado,” a service journalism project dedicated to “combatting disinformation” for Latinos in the U.S.

It is one of less than a handful of such projects in the country. In an election year with a record 36.2 million Hispanics eligible to vote, and who will be seeking accurate information to help them make decisions about candidates, Factchequeado is likely to get even busier. 

On Feb. 27, only days after Riley’s killing, Olavarría – a former reporter for CNN en Español and Univisión Atlanta – posted an article on Factchequeado’s site titled, “Be careful of these six narratives that spread misinformation about immigration in the U.S.” He also posted a reel on Instagram, debunking myths around immigration and crime.

The first of the six narratives: “Migration increases the crime rate.” Olavarría wrote: “Several experts consulted by Factchequeado agree that there is no data or studies showing a causal relationship between immigration and an increase in the crime rate.” (Many articles on the site, including this one, are also translated to English.)

The article soon landed in the inboxes of 60 partner news outlets and other organizations in 20 states, mostly Spanish-language. Included among them are El Nuevo Georgia and Prensa Atlanta, two of the state’s growing number of Spanish-language news outlets trying to reach the state’s million-plus Latinos, now 10.5% of the population – more than 800,000 of whom speak Spanish at home.

It was all in a day’s work for Olavarría, who began recognizing the need for fact-checking in the Hispanic community in 2020, while reporting for Univisión Atlanta. “I saw all the disinformation about Covid and the elections, and the consequences in Georgia’s Hispanic community,” he said. Once, he found himself “putting a magnet on my arm, where I had gotten the [Covid] vaccine,” while on the air – to disprove the idea that the vaccine somehow made his body magnetic. 

“It was a serious problem … and the disinformation was even worse on Spanish-language social media,” he said. 

Social media “has no accountability to the truth,” said Teresa Puente, journalism professor At California State University Long Beach.  “Unlike journalism, there’s no consequences for spreading disinformation.” The large platforms – Facebook, Instagram, X, Tik Tok – also have a lot less Spanish-speaking personnel monitoring content, she said, so “a lot more gets through.”

Puente recently wrote a paper titled “Factchequeado: Fakes News in Spanish Knows No Borders.”  In it, she identifies 71 U.S. fact-checking websites in English, and only three in Spanish – Telemundo runs one, called “T Verifica,” Univisión runs another called “El Detector,” and Factchequeado. There’s also the Spanish-language version of “Lead Stories,” launched in October.

“Entering election season, the issue [of fighting disinformation] becomes even more important,” Puente told 285 South. “There’s AI, with Biden’s voice, and orchestrated campaigns from Russia, Iran and China … to try and control US voters, and feed disinformation.”

Puente analyzed the fact-checking project’s first 16 months and found that “the majority of fake news debunked by Factchequeado focused on health, science, politics and social media.” 

Prensa Atlanta has used the project’s material on subjects ranging from consumer scam alerts to a new series of explainers about U.S. elections. El Nuevo Georgia has a separate section on its website for “Factchequeado” content, and has posted information ranging from health to the case against Donald Trump for taking classified documents. 

The project has also expanded, with funding from sources such as the Google News Initiative and the Reynolds Journalism Institute, this month publishing a bilingual “Guide for Journalists Covering Latino and Spanish-Speaking Communities.”  The 129-page guide includes such information as how to verify AI-created images and how to use Google Earth for geolocation.

Factchequeado is also working with Tik-Tok to identify concerns about viral content in Spanish based on false information. The project posts articles and videos on WhatsApp, Instagram, and Tik-Tok. 

At times, Olavarría said, disinformation is “like pouring rain, and you’re trying to catch it with a bucket…[But] we’re going to play the same game – be persistent. I want people to get tired of hearing the facts!” 

The Venezuelan-born journalist-turned-factchecker said his personal journey pushes him forward on the project. “I was a witness to how democracy fell [in Venezuela],” he said. “Disinformation campaigns were a fundamental technique for creating an authoritarian system … [and] the trauma of Venezuela has served to motivate me.”

For media outlets and journalists: If you’re interested in Factchequeado’s training program and/or becoming a media partner, email info@factchequeado.com. More info here.

Melvin Toledo had no idea that when a piece of wood fell and ripped through the mesh of his screen porch in Tucker, it would set in motion a trajectory that would last several years.

Elvi and Claudia, originally from El Salvador, showed up at his house to fix it. 

 “I was just talking to them, and usually you see men doing that type of work, like construction. And this lady was just working there with her husband, just going at it.” He was impressed, and let them know. Their response? “‘Hacemos de todo.’” We do everything.

Melvin asked them if it was okay if he took their photo, so he could paint a portrait of them. They both agreed.

That portrait, which he then titled Hacemos de Todo, became the first in a series that Melvin has been working on for almost four years. The portraits will eventually make up Stars of America, an exhibit featuring 50 paintings of people from all over the world who are now mostly living in the Atlanta area. Each person represents a star of the American flag, and each painting includes a flag, either discreetly or overtly, of their origin country. 

The exhibit is set to open in September at the Marietta Cobb Museum of Art.

So far, Melvin has painted people originally from Japan, India, Mexico, Colombia, Morocco, Eritrea, and Trinidad and Tobago. The idea, he said, is to paint the people who “come here that keep the country going.”

“I feel like that's what happened in this country, the way that people speak about immigrants or about immigration, it kinda takes your humanity away,” he said.

“The paintings are about uplifting…and portray[ing] somebody in a good light, in a dignified way.” 

Melvin works out of his studio on Chamblee Tucker Road, in a building that also houses a real estate company office. 

Even though he said his work isn’t meant to be overtly political, it's hard to take politics out of even just the words immigrant or immigration. “You say the word immigrant and immediately people start thinking a bunch of things.” 

Melvin identifies with the experience of leaving your home out of necessity, or in the hope of something better, or both. 

He grew up in Ciudad Antigua, a mountainous town in Nicaragua, close to the border with Honduras. 

The backdrop of his early childhood was war. He was born a year after the Sandinistas, a left wing political group, came to power after 40 years of dictatorship. In the years that followed, the Contras - a right wing paramilitary group backed and funded by the U.S. - waged war against the government.  By 1990, over 30,000 people had died in the fighting.

“Most of my family left for Honduras…my dad was the only one to stay.” 

Melvin said he remembers his childhood as happy, despite the war. “Most of the time children are sort of, not aware of the situation. We just played in the street with marbles, with spinning tires.”

His family was mostly fine, he said, unless they heard the Contras were coming to town. When they did, they had a survival plan.“We slept under the bed those nights…[because] if something landed on the roof or [there were] bullets, the tiles could fall into the house.”

Unlike his dad, who was a farmer (“he's one of those people that doesn't leave the town”), Melvin eventually left Nicaragua. He had started drawing manga cartoons for fun in high school, and when an opportunity came up to work and train as an artist in Honduras, he took it.

He said his parents didn’t have the money to send him to college, so he thought working alongside his uncle, who had a business in commercial art in Honduras, was his best bet.

Melvin moved to the US in 2007, after meeting his American wife, a volunteer with the Peace Corps. It was during the heart of the presidential election season, and it was then that he first thought of painting portraits of immigrants. It wasn’t until 2020 though, that he started on the first portrait.  

Being a portrait painter transported from Nicaragua to Atlanta, can be tough. 

For one, it’s hard to find buyers of the portraits themselves, even though the work is well received. “Everybody [says] ‘oh my god, I love this, it's so realistic.’ But they're not paying.”

 “I'm trying to do my best to make it beautiful. But it's not about making it a wall decoration. It's more about the person - what they are, who they are.”

What does sell are his still life paintings. He sells them through a handful of galleries in Atlanta, and was also selling to one in Tennessee until 2022.

And then there’s the built in support network, that comes from being native to a place, that can be crucial for artists starting out.

Melvin didn’t have that initially, which was challenging.

Things started to change though in 2020, when he connected Contrapunto - a collective of five other Latino artists in the Atlanta area. The artists shared some of his same concerns - that there wasn’t much of a Latin presence in the art scene in Atlanta and that it was hard to find opportunities to exhibit their work. They also shared a goal: “to boost awareness of these artists in the Southeast.”  The group is exhibiting their work in February at the Oglethorpe University Museum of Art. 

Melvin said the response to the portraits that will be featured in the Stars exhibit, so far, have been ‘wonderful.’ 

“People feel a direct connection.”  

One woman, he said, got especially emotional when she saw the portrait of Elvi and Claudia. 

“She said, ‘you know, I don't see art very often, [but] when I came here, I saw this portrait…it was just amazing, because this is what my dad used to do. And I feel like I'm seeing him’.”

Follow Melvin’s work on Instagram and on his website here, and Contrapunto here.

For people inside the auditorium of the PATH Academy, a DeKalb County charter school, on Saturday, the holiday season did not end with the New Year's arrival. 

The smells of café de olla (a traditional Mexican coffee beverage), atole (a hot drink made with masa, vanilla, and cinnamon), and arroz con leche (rice with milk) filled the room of the Brookhaven based school.

More than 200 people were there to celebrate Three Kings Day, or Día de Reyes, a holiday not officially recognized in the U.S., but traditionally celebrated in Mexico - as well as in parts of South America, the Caribbean, Spain, and France. It marks the day three wise men visited baby Jesus after a 12-day journey.  

In Brookhaven, where over 20 percent of the population is Hispanic, many residents came together to keep their traditions from home alive.

The event was hosted by Amigos de la Comunidad en Georgia, a nonprofit that educates, empowers, and supports the overall well-being of the Latino community. Amigos joined forces with the PATH Academy, several nonprofits, and individuals passionate about serving the community, to set up services for attendees.

“Being part of relevant events for our community, like this one, is a way for us to get closer to the people and show them the resources available to them,” said Marcela Cortes, event planner for the City of Brookhaven, which also supported the event.

Two people from Emory Healthcare did blood pressure and sugar checkups on adults, volunteers from the Feminist Women's Health Center provided clothing for women, and the Latino Community Fund Georgia gave out information about the organization and the resources available to allocate investments.

Meanwhile, kids were getting their faces painted and enjoying traditional aguinaldos - goody bags with candy and fruit - made by individual supporters. Adults dressed up as the Three Wise Men and handed out candy to the children. When it was time to hit the piñata, the kids were shrieking with delight. 

The party was nothing short of a traditional posada Navideña (a Christmas party) in the streets of Mexico.

"It's important for us to keep the tradition going," said Maricela Guzman, an attendee from Oaxaca, Mexico, whose kids were born in the U.S. "This allows our kids to experience it like we did." 

One of those traditions is eating Rosca de Reyes - a colorful crown-shaped yellow sweet bread. It contains at least three small plastic infant figures representing baby Jesus. Whoever takes a slice with one of the toy infants is responsible for bringing tamales to the Candelaria Celebration on February 2 - the Catholic celebration of “The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus Christ.”

Before the event ended, kids lined up for another important ritual: the gifts, which are left under the Christmas tree on the night of January 5. At the celebration on Saturday though, gifts were donated by individuals and organizations, and handed out by Amigos volunteers. From babies to teenagers, every kid left with a gift in hand. 

"The support of so many made it all possible," said Aceli Zenil, co-founder of Amigos de la Comunidad en Georgia. "Families are here having a beautiful time, and we hope to be able to do it again." 

In the back room of an apartment complex off North Indian Creek Road in Clarkston, Veronica Thang sits down at a desk. She’s helping a fellow member of the Burmese community, Mary Maan, file an immigration petition to bring her brother to the U.S. They speak quickly in Burmese, as Veronica types. But every few seconds they are stuck by the most common of online snags - they’ve forgotten the online password. This continues for several frustrating minutes before they’re able to move on.  

“Everyday of my life I need Veronica’s help,” says Mary. She regularly comes to Veronica for help reading her mail and for assistance with accessing SNAP (food stamps).

She’s not the only one. On a Friday afternoon in June, over a half dozen people sit patiently in the living room of the apartment waiting for Veronica’s to help with everything from applying for food stamps to Medicaid renewals. “Every service that they need in our community, they come to me,” says Veronica. 

Veronica had worked for almost 10 years at the Center for Pan Asian Community Services - helping refugees. But after an investigation into the organization led to funding shortages, she along with dozens of other staffers were laid off. 

She may have lost her salary, and her office, but she still had people who needed her. 

“People from the community have my phone number…they keep calling me, they need help.”

So every Thursday and Friday she drives from her home in Lawrenceville to the apartment in Clarkson, courtesy of her church pastor who uses it as his regular office and a space for ESL and citizenship classes. Often, community members who speak Karen or Rohingya, languages spoken by Burmese minority groups, will help with interpretation. On the other days, Veronica handles as many requests as she can over the phone.

Approximately 6,000 Burmese have come to Georgia as refugees over the last two decades, originating from diverse minority communities (Karen, Chin, Rohingya) that have been targeted for decades by the military-ruled government in Burma. Georgia ranks fifth in the country in the number of Burmese refugees taken in. Many settle first in Clarkston and later move to surrounding cities like Tucker and Stone Mountain. 

Many of them immediately start work at poultry farms or retail warehouses. That makes finding the time to learn English, make necessary phone calls or fill out online forms to access support and government relief, nearly impossible. 

In 2022, when it became clear she wouldn’t have her job at CPACS for much longer, Veronica filed paperwork to register a new organization - Home of Helping Hand - as a nonprofit. The goal, she says, is to create a wider foundation of support for the Burmese community. 

I spoke to her about what motivates her to do what she does, and what her hopes are for Home of Helping Hand. The interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Tell me about yourself.

I am a Burmese refugee. I came here in 2010 with my family.

The reason I'm here today is to serve my community. I was a social worker since 2014 all the way to 2023. I've been serving the community with ongoing services like food stamps, Medicaid, every public benefit that our community needs. In 2023, I stopped working at the organization. January 10th was the last time I worked at CPACS. So even though I'm no longer with CPACS, people have my phone number, my contact information, [and] they keep calling me. They need help. So I decided to look for a space. First I rented on Memorial Drive, but it was a little difficult to pay a monthly rental fee by myself. Then I talked to our church pastor, and then I am here. So I keep serving community people with public benefits [and] employment. Even domestic violence cases. I think every service that they need in our community, they come to me.

What do you think are some of the biggest challenges for the Burmese community in Metro Atlanta?

ESL class might help to communicate. Let's say if somebody [doesn’t] come to me, they need to go to DFACS [Georgia Division of Family and Children Services) directly. You don't get an interpreter all the time. So at least you need to know greetings in English, and what you want to do, what you need help with, right? So if we can have ESL class, very, very basic English class, that [is] really helpful for our community. And then even though we have ESL class, the online application is still too hard for them…. If they have space, if they have somebody to go see, to go see and tell them their problem to meet and talk about what they want to do, that is really helpful.

What is the best part of living here?

The best part is our kids can go to school. That we never…dreamed of in our life. The school system here is very good. That is the best thing for our community. And then health. You have many ways to see doctors and go to a hospital because in Burma, we don't even have a doctor…And then government public assistance, those benefits. Those are the important things that we never had in our life. In Burma, we don't have that assistance. Even going to school, you pay by yourself. If you cannot pay for your kid, your kid is staying home. Those are the benefits and the good things. I will say we are lucky here. We are very lucky because of those benefits.

And what’s the hardest part about life here for people in the Burmese community?

The hardest part is newly arriving [here]. Getting jobs, transportation issues, solving transportation issues. We pass[ed] all those difficulties.

Lately, the thing we need most is community education. For middle aged people, like my age and seniors, we really need that. English language and even transportation. Most of the women don't drive. But again, compared with the time that we arrived, we developed a lot. But still, those are the needs that I see in the in Burmese community. 

What are the challenges to building up your organization, Home of Helping Hand?

We don't have that many connections. We work with a team. But that team, everybody needs income. When I was at CPACS, I had my own income.  So we work for community, we volunteer, we have stipends for our transportation.  But once we merge into a nonprofit, and I'm no longer with CPACS, it's hard to work together like before because everybody needs income. So it's hard for me to pay from my pocket, right? I myself don't even have any income. It is very difficult to work together and build up again like before. So we are trying to look for available funding.

So far we connect[ed] with DHS [Department of Human Services]. They said maybe next fiscal year, they may allow us to apply. We don't know if they're gonna approve or not, but they might allow us to apply. So that's one hope. Then, if they let us apply and approve, then at least we can rent our own space.

What sort of services will Home of Helping Hand provide for the community?

Social services including food stamps, medicare applications, job applications, legal assistance, citizenship applications, green card renewals. When families receive bills from the hospital, help with calling the hospital and requesting a discount or assistance. And then voter engagement. 

What is your dream for your community and for yourself?

Oh my God (laughs). My dream…

I want to build this organization. So whenever Burmese community is faced with any problem - language barrier, transportation, health, civic engagement -  anything that they need, I want them to have in their mindset, oh, we can go there. There is somebody who can help us.  So then they wouldn't worry anymore. Sometimes I heard from my clients saying, Oh, my God, you're here. I think they thank me because when they receive one envelope from their mailbox…they bring it here and they let me read and I say, oh you don't have to worry, just put it in the trash can. For them, even those commercial letters or whatever they see they get worried. 

I want to build this organization as much as we can. Of course only one person cannot do everything. We need a bigger team. If we have enough people to serve the community, Burmese community will be very happy and myself too. Yeah, that is my biggest dream. 

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I was raised by a single mom, so I didn't grow up with my father. My mom raised me and my sister. My mother didn't go to school. When I left my mother, our country, we talked over the phone. And until she passed away - she passed away in 2016 with lung cancer - she always told me to serve community. Especially people like her. She always said, my daughter, whatever you do, whenever you do your work, whenever you talk to people, especially to uneducated people, be patient. Serve them as much as you can. Like you talk to me, like you helped me, like you take care of me, treat everybody like me. She always mentioned that. My mom’s words are always in my head. So I am happy with what I'm doing. I will do as much as I can. I will serve as much as I can for our community. That is my dream.

To connect with Home of Helping Hand and offer support, visit the Facebook page here. 

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*Quick side note - check out my iftar reviews from last Ramadan(here and here). Both Bismallah Cafe ($10 iftar boxes) and Ameer’s Mediterranean Grill ($27 buffet served daily, requires reservations ) will continue their Ramadan specials this year, along with the legendary buffet at Mughals in Norcross and Chai Pani’s to-go boxes in Decatur*.

It can also mean that for anyone following a regular fitness or nutrition regiment, they’re thrown off, and can easily fall into a pattern of dehydration and heavy, late night eating.

“A lot of times people think while fasting it’s hard to exercise,” says Maleeha Rahim, who grew up in Buford and lives in Gwinnett County.

Rahim is the only fitness trainer in Metro Atlanta catering to Muslim women, as far as she’s aware. “I’m the only one I know of. Do you know any?”

I told her I didn’t.

“It’s not a common field to get into,” she says, laughing. “At least for a Pakistani person it’s usually lawyer, doctor, engineer, something like that.”

In 2020, Rahim founded Ihsaan Fitness, a business that offers everything from personal training to workout plans to group fitness classes (both online and in person at local mosques). The majority of her clients, she says, are Muslim women. “I’m happy I’m providing this kind of service because many of them have said we don’t have something like this.”

For Ramadan, she’s launched a 30 day fitness challenge, encouraging folks to get moving, even if it’s just 15 minutes a day. “The feedback I’m getting are that the exercises are enough to not tire them out, but also provide them enough energy to get through the day.”

I spoke with her about barriers to exercise, Ramadan fitness and nutrition tips, and more.

Tell us about your journey. What inspired you to become a fitness trainer?

Many things inspired me to become a fitness trainer!

Growing up, I have always enjoyed being active, doing outdoor activities, working out and just moving in general. My first gym experience was actually while I was in college, and I have to thank my roommate for persuading me to come with her to the gym for my FIRST time. I was a little nervous to be honest. It was my first time going to a gym, not knowing exactly how to use the equipment, and on top of that I wore a hijab too so I wondered- would people stare at me and give me looks? I was completely wrong though. Everyone was just minding their own business. That day really changed my life a lot. I gained a huge amount of confidence. My first gym experience pushed me to help women, and especially Muslim women, gain strength and confidence just like I did.

I wanted to have a unique career that not many Muslim women have, or at least that I know of in this area. There really is a big need for a space for Muslim women to train and exercise comfortably, and I hope to provide that service for our community here in Georgia and beyond. InshaAllah my goal is to raise more awareness on taking care of our health and preventative health measures. We really need that in our community!

Your focus is empowering Muslim women through exercise - what do you think are the biggest barriers to getting fit? Why?

One of the barriers might be clothing/modesty. I wear hijab and I remember my first gym experience, I felt a little awkward walking into a gym fully covered with a hijab while other girls were dressed way differently. Also, most gyms are mixed, so guys and girls working out together. That can be uncomfortable for some people too. Many of my clients also are working full time, mothers with kids/babies, and have lots of life stuff going on besides that. Schedules can get pretty busy. My goal is to help women find ways to exercise and move past these barriers. Don’t want to go to a gym? Workout at home. Don’t have time to exercise? Even 5 minutes is better than nothing! I encourage my clients to think of exercise as something that’s part of your daily routine, and less of a chore. Prioritizing movement is important. I have found that moving past these barriers empower women to take control of their schedule and build confidence.

What's a typical day like for you?

Because of Ramadan, my schedule is a little different than usual but I am an early bird and get things done better when I am up early in the morning. I love getting my workout done and out of the way in the morning because it gives me energy for the rest of the day. After working out, I train clients either 1-on-1 at their house or gym, and then I train clients at some of my in-person group fitness class locations. When I come home, I train many online personal training clients and online group fitness class clients. Then, I spend some time on the computer, creating workout plans/programs, social media, business things, etc. My days are pretty busy most of the time like everyone else, but I do get to eat and spend time with my family too in between all that!

What has been the most surprising part of your work?

The most surprising part of my work is the hard work my clients put in and the results that they get! MashaAllah it makes me so happy to see my clients stronger and exceed their own expectations for what they thought they could do. Also, it’s so awesome to see my clients changing their habits and for many of them, exercise is now a part of their life! Seeing my clients excel really is what motivates me to keep going and keep doing what I’m doing.

And the most gratifying?

Alhumdulillah I couldn’t have been more thankful for the support I’ve been getting so far from the Muslim community. I do expect some people who might not fully agree with what I’m doing, but for the most part many people have encouraged me to keep going with my passion. Allah knows my intention and the reason why I want to keep doing what I’m doing. In the end I want to make a difference in people’s lives. Alhumdulilah it’s so good to see that more awareness is being brought up in our community for nutrition, exercise, and other health matters.

Many people fall off their regular fitness regime during Ramadan. What tips do you have for people who want to keep up their regular exercise, while fasting?

I always say- something is better than nothing (at least for most people). You do not necessarily have to go all out when working out during Ramadan either. A lot of times we underestimate the power of just walking. Walking is incredible for health! It can be done anywhere, no equipment needed, and it’s super low intensity. Try stretches, yoga, mobility exercises. You can also incorporate strength training too, especially if you’re already used to training that way. Just be mindful what time you workout. Sometimes you might have to lower the intensity for the exercises and that’s okay. Our main focus should be to become spiritually strong, but at the same time if we can focus a little bit on staying physically strong too, that would be awesome inshaAllah. With the right intention, even moving your body can be considered an act of worship!

How do you adjust your fitness routine and nutrition during Ramadan?

I understand schedules can get pretty busy or off during the month of Ramadan (as is mine), but we should try our best to do what we can and what we are able to handle. I try not to be too hard on myself if I can’t workout or skip a workout one day for whatever reason. But, I try my best to be active in some way each day, even if it’s for 5-10 minutes. Something is better than nothing! 

When it comes to nutrition, I try to continue my usual eating routine but put a bigger emphasis on nutritious foods that can help me have a more energized day. Foods with protein, fat, and fiber always help me have more sustained energy. But also, I will not say no to a samosa or two that’s for sure! 

What are your favorite foods to eat for suhoor (pre-dawn meal) and iftar (evening meal to break the fast)?

I usually have large meals for suhoor and iftar, since there is no lunch in between and we have a smaller eating window.

For suhoor, I usually like to make an omelet/wrap with a couple eggs, cheese, and veggies. Can’t forget hot sauce! I also like to eat oatmeal or cereal, fruit and yogurt parfait, and sometimes I will have a milkshake or protein shake.

For iftaar, fruit/dates is my go-to when breaking my fast. Fruit gives that instant glucose/energy that my body has been needing the whole day!  I love having typical desi food for dinner since that’s what we eat anyway and it’s easy to make. Usually that’s some sort of salan (gravy with spices) or rice dish with meat. A big colorful salad feels so refreshing to eat with it too! And once in a while I will enjoy some fried foods too- they taste so good!

What are your dreams for your business?

I hope to grow my business in Georgia and other places around the world. My goal is to change lives and help people improve their health. I want to encourage Muslim women to not let any barriers stop them from exercising. InshaAllah I also hope to open a women’s only gym facility in Gwinnett County in the near future. Stay tuned!!

*You can follow Rahim on Instagram and check out her website here.*

Starting April 1st, after a three year pause - the process of re-enrolling and re-determining Medicaid eligibility begins in Georgia. That’s because the federal public health emergency period which was invoked at the start of the pandemic to expand health coverage - is ending. 

Some Georgia residents will no longer be eligible for Medicaid - like those who have aged out or those who are unable to provide proof of working or volunteer hours. And eligible Georgia residents have to reapply for Medicaid, or risk losing it. Staff at the Georgia Budget and Policy Institute (GBPI) are focused on giving people a heads up about what they have called a “major healthcare event,” to make sure an unprecedented number of people don’t lose coverage because of “procedural” reasons.  

The role of immigrant serving community organizations, like the Latin American Association and CPACS, is key to getting the word out and assisting people with Medicaid enrollment, says Crystal Munoz, Immigration Policy Analyst at GBPI. 

This year, at least on the CPACS side, that capacity isn’t there.  

The 42 year old organization lost federal funding after its senior leadership and Board came under investigation for alleged fraud and mismanagement last year. Before that, CPACS would have had a staff that was assisting hundreds of community members with SNAP applications and Medicaid renewals in multiple languages. 

Now, says Stephen Lee, CPACS Acting CEO, they have just two Korean staff members who will be focused on assisting Korean seniors with their Medicaid re-enrollments.  “Numbers wise we have a lot less,” he said, “because of the limited funding.” There is no more staff to assist Spanish speaking community members, says Lee, so they’ll be referring them to other community organizations. 

Anna says she used to help at least a couple hundred Chinese community members with their Medicaid renewals at CPACS. She doesn’t want those people to fall through the cracks just because she isn’t officially working with the organization anymore. “I'm the only one who knows what to do with Medicaid and for SNAP.  So I will do it by myself.” 

She plans to assist more than 500 people with applications through her capacity as a volunteer at the Chinese Community Federation of Atlanta, she said. It’s a lot, so she’s encouraging some people to set up their accounts on the online platform themselves. “For those who know English, they may be able to do it themselves, but sometimes it may be a little bit complicated for them. And if they cannot do it, I’ll still help them.”

Since Anna doesn’t have an office anymore, she’ll be coordinating mostly over the phone and text message, which isn’t ideal. “Most of them they [came] to CPACs, which [was] easier because they can bring their documents and then I make copies.”

Each client had a file folder with all their documents. She no longer has those files, or access to the online portal she had through CPACS.  So she has to begin anew. “Now because I don't have that access, I have to create an account for each client.”

Some of my most vivid memories as a child are roaming between reams of cloth at Hancock Fabrics, a craft store chain, bored out of my mind. My mom would spend hours (that’s what it felt like) searching for the perfect fabric to either take over to an auntie who would stitch her a shalwar kameez (tunic with loose fitting pants), or bring home so she could stitch it herself.

Thankfully, this is no longer the case. Hancock Fabrics is now a relic of the past (it shuttered more than 6 years ago), and the year after that, a Pakistani clothing shop in a strip mall in Norcross, J. Junaid Jamshed, opened. Though I don’t think those two events were in any way coordinated, I do know that its the seemingly small things, like the availability of culturally specific clothes - that shows us just how much our region has changed in the last few decades.

I wrote about it for the December issue of Atlanta Magazine: Read the full story here.

I love writing about people in the Atlanta area who are doing surprising and unexpected things - folks who are pushing boundaries (real or perceived) and striving for something better for themselves, and their communities.

Sara Naqvi, publisher of the blog The Pakistani Vegan, is one of those people. She and her husband Abbas are the founders of Punjab Spice Company - a metro Atlanta based vegan Pakistani pop-up that specializes in street foods like roll parathas and bun kababs. They started it in 2018, but paused the business when they moved to Atlanta and were hunkering down during the height of the pandemic. They just started hosting pop ups again this year (four so far and more to come!).

I recently bought Sara's e-book - "Plant Based Pakistani Recipes," which I was curious about because the title itself felt like an oxymoron, given how meat-centered Pakistani cuisine can be. And - 100 percent of the proceeds for the book went to Pakistani flood relief efforts.

I connected with her about what her journey has been like and what advice she has for others who are considering a vegan lifestyle.

(This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.)

Vegans in the Pakistani community are rare. Meat-based dishes like nihari, haleem, and aloo gosht dominate traditional meals. Tell me about your vegan journey.

I grew up in Queens, New York, with Pakistani parents who immigrated to the U.S. in the 1970s. Growing up, meat was always emphasized as important for every meal, and of course a glass of milk was considered necessary for a growing body. As a child, I remember not really enjoying the meals with meat in them, and just eating it because I was told to. It was what was expected of me.

As a child I also remember being mortified whenever "bakra Eid" or Eid Ul-Adha, the Muslim festival, came around, because it revolves around the sacrificial slaughter of a goat. In New York on Main Street in Flushing, Queens there were several halal butcher shops. During the lead up to Eid, Main Street would be full of meat trucks with the whole body of the slaughtered goat being carried into the halal markets. I remember feeling so sick looking at that. It was the first time I was really confronted with a dead animal body, and the experience just scarred me.

As I got older I learned about the concept of veganism. I had two older brothers who I was heavily influenced by, musically and culturally. They always were into "alternative" types of music, and got me into punk rock music in high school. Through them I learned about punk bands that promoted the vegan lifestyle and movements like "Straight Edge," where people abstain from alcohol, drugs, and maintain a vegetarian or vegan diet. I started reading up on animal rights and activism later in high school, but didn't actually become vegetarian until I was 20, after I watched a video about what happens to animals on factory farms. It really exposed the cruelty and suffering that is involved, and it didn't sit well with me. I knew I couldn't eat meat any longer.

So I went vegetarian first, and I stayed that way for years. I was blissfully vegetarian for animal rights, not really doing the research on dairy and how cruel it was for the cows. Finally, I forced myself to look into dairy more deeply and learned how the dairy cows are forcefully impregnated only to have their babies taken from them shortly after giving birth. And then that cycle continues for them until they are no longer able to give birth, and then are killed anyway for their meat. Learning that truth was the deciding factor in me sticking with being vegan. I'm not going to lie - the transition from vegetarian to vegan was mostly hard because of cheese and dairy being in everything. But this was also back in 2008, where vegan options and replacements weren't as readily available. Now there are so many more options at grocery stores and restaurants! The vegan cheese is way better now haha.

Now I've been vegan for about 14 years, and I feel like it's definitely a part of my identity that will not change. Even now, I can't watch footage of factory farms without bawling - the horror and trauma these animals endure really affects me.

I also think when people think about vegans, they think that we only care about the animals. For me and for other like-minded vegans, our veganism is centered on the connection of fighting against all other forms of oppression. My feminism and social justice advocacy is tied to my advocacy for animals, and for me human and animal rights are inextricably linked. Amplifying the voices of BIPOC vegans in the community is also really important to me because solidarity and listening to other marginalized communities builds and sustains a progressive, informed movement.

The meat and dairy industries are also directly linked to human oppression - factory farm/slaughterhouse workers are often undocumented immigrants and suffer from PTSD as a result of this job. Also factory farm facilities, or also known as concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs), are usually built in low-income communities and can threaten the health of the local population and cause immense pollution to the water and air. Finally, there's the environmental aspect of meat and dairy - raising animals for meat, eggs, and milk generates 14.5% of global greenhouse gas emissions, the second highest source of emissions and greater than all transportation combined. Most recently the devastating floods in Pakistan displaced more than 33 million people - all a direct result of climate change! These global environmental impacts are happening constantly, and no one thinks to or wants to tie it at least in part to animal agriculture. These issues all inform my decision to be vegan.

How did your parents and family members respond when you first decided to be vegan?

I went vegetarian first, and it was not well received. My parents thought that a non-Muslim friend must have influenced me. They were worried I was abandoning Islam and everything it stood for. I assured them I was not leaving Islam, and in fact the Holy Prophet Muhammad advocated for kindness to animals, and if he knew the treatment of animals on modern day factory farms, he also wouldn't stand for it. I also just said I simply did not want to eat animals any more. At first there was a lot of resistance - my mom would tell me she was giving me veggie sausage when in fact in the garbage I would find a box for real beef sausage. At the mosque, pickings were slim. Whenever there was a mosque event, I would always just eat naan and salad. If I was lucky, there was a daal or lentil dish.

Eventually my parents came around, and my mom would often make me vegetarian and vegan versions of the traditional Pakistani dishes I grew up eating. Now she actually eats a plant-based diet too! She made the switch in 2018 to help her reverse negative side effects from her diabetes, and it worked! Her negative symptoms disappeared, and her blood sugar levels decreased dramatically. She sticks with it to this day and promotes the lifestyle to her friends and family. I am so proud of her, because I know within immigrant families it can often be hard to break out of the cycle of how you grew up, with everyone being conditioned on how "important" meat and dairy is. Obviously when they teach us this growing up they don't have any ulterior motives, but they were just trying to do what they thought was best for us. We have to be the ones who have to change their perception and the more opportunity we have to talk about this and to show them, the more minds we can change. I have a daughter now, and I am teaching her about food and understanding where your food comes from and how it impacts you, your health, animals, and the environment.

Is it hard to find vegan dishes to eat when you're at family gatherings or Pakistani restaurants? Do you find yourself eating the same foods (chole)?

Family gatherings are usually ok, as long as the hosts know my whole family is vegan. They usually create a few lentil and/or veggie Pakistani dishes that are safe for my family. We do end up eating the same types of foods, but we love a good chole and a good daal. I've always loved those foods, so I don't mind if they're the only options. As long as there IS an option! :) Also recently at a family gathering, my cousin's daughter made us a vegan dessert. We really appreciated the effort and thought!

We've also had the opposite experience. Last year we went to Pakistan and visited my khala (aunt) in Lahore. She served this elaborate spread of dahi bara (yogurt dish) and store-bought pastries, and was so confused that we don't eat dairy at all. The concept had never occurred to her. So you do often meet people that don't even understand the concept and sometimes will take it personally that you aren't eating what you serve them. I think my mistake there was that I didn't let her know beforehand that we don't eat dairy - might have saved some effort in her preparing foods that we couldn't eat!

So my advice is to always let your host know ahead of time, and be ok with being served some Pakistani lentil/vegetable staples! If you're at a Pakistani restaurant, let them know you have a dairy, egg, and meat allergy, and see what dishes they can provide for you. Usually the vegetable and lentil dishes are cooked in oil and not in ghee/butter so it's easy to order those with plain rice.

Is there anything that has surprised you, either about yourself, or about those around you, since becoming vegan?

I think the most surprising thing was how much I learned about nutrition and my own personal health. After becoming vegan, I took an interest in making sure I was getting the proper nutrients and was better about taking a multivitamin, and actually checking up on my blood work and health stats. I definitely felt a lot better in general after making the switch, but I also felt more empowered to take care of my health. Another surprising thing is how much it has made me excited to cook! I was never really a "foodie" before I became vegan - now I go out of my way to veganize the Pakistani dishes I had growing up, and experimenting with new foods in the kitchen all the time. For example, I never had sushi before I became a vegan. Now I make it at home all the time! So it's just been much more exciting thinking about food now - and the ways I can experiment and make something taste so good that even non-vegans can't tell the difference.

Do you have any advice for people who want to become vegan, but feel like the obstacles (whether within themselves or with their community) are discouraging?

I would say first know WHY you want to do it. Make sure that there’s strong enough of a reason for you to stick with it. Otherwise, you won't be committed to it. For me, the initial reason was animal rights. It kept me going and still does. I would recommend reading books on animal rights, health benefits of a plant-based diet, environmental impacts of animal agriculture, or whatever it is that has interested you in being plant-based and/or veganism. Get educated as much as you can before you make the switch so you're solid in your foundation.

Secondly, make sure you're armed with cooking/nutritional resources on transitioning to a plant-based lifestyle. What are the best sources of protein, what are the affordable/cheap staples you can keep at home, and what are some go-to meals you can make? There's a Daily Dozen checklist that is super helpful to ensure you're eating a varied and nutritious plant-based diet, and this helpful guide by Rainbow Plant Life is also really handy. Also be sure you take your supplements (B-12 and Vitamin D especially, which minorities can already have deficiencies in anyway).

Finally, if eating vegan is not the norm in your community, it does not mean that it can't be accepted. It may be a bit of a struggle at first, but as mentioned earlier, I find people can be open to new perspectives and ideas perhaps they weren't exposed to before. Of course there will also be the people who will say you are wrong and won't budge. But no one should ever live their life based on those types of people and how they will judge you. The biggest obstacle would be your immediate family. Perhaps your family won't support you initially, but they will eventually come around to at least accepting it after they see that it’s something you are serious about and committed to. And maybe you'll get more people interested along the way with you!

What are some of your favorite Pakistani vegan recipes? Vegan shami kababs made with black chickpeas, Peshawari chapli kabab made from Impossible "beef", pakora toast (street food first tried in Islamabad), and my mom helped me figure out a seitan biryani. If you're not familiar with seitan, it has a meat-like texture made from wheat gluten. We also just made a gulab jamun trifle for a wedding we are catering, which is made of layers of biscoff cookie crumbs, vanilla custard, and vegan gulab jamun made of breadcrumbs topped with cardamom sugar syrup and a coconut whip. So delicious!

Wow, yum. Ok, so what are your favorite vegan places to eat in Atlanta?

I really love Vegreen in Duluth for vegan sushi, Slutty Vegan's burgers, Calveritas vegan Mexican food, Malaysian food from Mamak Vegan Kitchen, brunch at Dulce Vegan, spicy vegan ramen from Jinya Ramen Bar, Grass VBQ for vegan bbq, and the oat milk soft serve at Big Softie. The Bien Vegano monthly pop-up markets are also a great place to try vegan food!

Thank you Sara!

Follow Punjab Spice Company on Instagram and Facebook - their next pop-up is at Georgia Vegfest on December 4.

And follow Sara on Instagram at The Pakistani Vegan.

By 285 South Contributor Phoebe Quinton

On Saturday September 10, Victor Mariachi performed the headline song at the Estamos Aquí Fiesta, hosted by the Latino Community Fund - Georgia (LCF-Georgia) as part of their Get Out the Vote Campaign. It was his first performance that his mother attended.

The event filled the Historic Fourth Ward Park Amphitheatre with booths for Latino-focused nonprofits, local artists, and food vendors as well as a packed lineup of performances by Folklorico dancers, DJs, and singers.

While performing, Mariachi commanded attention, waving his arms above his head and calling out to the crowd to dance along. Yet during his interview, he was soft spoken and hid his face beneath a white UGA bucket hat.

He described himself as an introverted kid, born in Phoenix, Arizona. He was the only US citizen in his family at the time. His parents are Mexican immigrants, and his family lived in Arizona, Georgia, Mexico, and Canada. They first moved to Gwinnett County for his parents' construction jobs, when Mariachi was in sixth grade. After moving to Mexico and Canada with his family later on, he returned to Atlanta by himself in 2011 to pursue music.

Mariachi began taking music seriously in middle school. He had always been artistic, spending his free time drawing and performing for his family in the living room. He also wrote poetry and studied rap. "I printed the lyrics of my favorite rappers - Nas, Tupac, Biggie - had them in a binder and would read through them," he said.

Two albums and a handful of music videos later, Mariachi is on stage performing Estamos Aquí, a song which he wrote. While music is not new terrain for Mariachi, voting is.

"I just started voting," Mariachi said. "I was one of those people who didn't believe in voting because of my upbringing. I didn't want to participate in a system that I felt was very prejudiced."

Mariachi is not alone. According to a NPR/Ipsos poll from January 2022, 64% of Americans think that American democracy is in crisis and at risk of failing. LCF-Georgia focuses not only on registering voters, but convincing people their vote matters and developing greater trust in the system.

They host an Election Protection Coalition with Latinos for Democracy to send volunteers to polling places and offer resources to help voters to cast their ballots. "Our folks feel intimidated, when they go out and vote, and profiled. And some times, many times, our folks get rejected at the polls," said Michelle Zuluaga, Civic Participation Manager for LCF-Georgia.

Feeling like his voice wouldn't be heard through voting, Mariachi expressed it through music. When Donald Trump became President, Mariachi sought to take back the negative narrative about Latino immigrants. "I wanted to push back and really be extravagant about my culture and be braggadocious about where we come from," Mariachi said.

His songs are real stories. Some, like "Homerun," are inspired by his mother's experience moving to America without speaking English, alone with two kids and working as a cleaning woman. Others are more lighthearted. "Foreigners" discusses his co-workers' uncanny ability to party all night and start work again at 4 a.m. "Estamos Aquí" highlights the diversity within the Latino community and that they belong in America. The album's title Super Humans captures his message of pride for his community.

In response to hate, Mariachi often chooses to reject rather than respond. He thinks that ignoring hurtful statements takes their power away, while reacting allows others to control the narrative. "We're always going to the beat of their drum," Mariachi said. "We have our own drum. We have our own rhythm."

Mariachi's opinion on voting changed as he became a voice for his community through music. "I see now the change in things that are happening," Mariachi said. "It's important for people to be heard because I feel like you can't get what the community wants or feels if not everybody's participating and saying what their concerns are."

He said that his music isn't political, but just retells his experiences. His next album will be more introspective and personal. His goal is simply representation. "Right now, it's just I want to be seen," Mariachi said. "I want my people to be seen."

Like what you're reading? Subscribe to 285 South - a publication dedicated to metro Atlanta's diverse communities - by clicking here.

One of the greatest privileges of writing 285 South is that I get to highlight people I come across who I can see make a tangible difference in people's lives, and who genuinely care about the well-being of those around them. Often, it's the people who are doing seemingly ordinary tasks - following up, calling back, asking questions, listening - that can make such an immediate impact. Dianne is one of those people.

The first time I met Dianne Roman was at a vaccination event at the Mexican consulate. She was masked, but her eyes were smiling. That spirit - ever helpful - ever positive- pervades her work.

Dianne is the coordinator of Ventanillas de Salud, a healthcare service run through a partnership between the Latino Community Fund - Georgia and the Mexican government, located at the Mexican Consulate. There are clinics like these in consulates across the country, and the one in Atlanta is on Chantilly Drive just off I-85.

Every weekday, Dianne takes on among the most herculean of tasks: help people, mostly those who are recent immigrants and speak little to no English, navigate the jungle that is healthcare in the U.S.

“They can call me and ask me health questions regarding if they need a plan and insurance or they need specialists or how to navigate in the United States health system, which we know is not easy. That's me - trying to support them and be the person that they can go to,” said Diane.

The clinic offers preventative health screenings like HIV Testing, glucose and blood pressure tests, and dental exams. And it offers information - a place that people can contact to find out where to get support for depression or how to find a doctor that accepts Medicaid.

Diane works at the front office of Ventanillas at the consulate, but she’s also the person behind its social media accounts, regularly responding to requests for information and assistance. And she makes sure people know that if they reach out, it will be her, Dianne, on the other end. “If you send a message through messenger, it's me. If you send a messenger on Instagram it’s me.” It's important for people to know they are connecting with another human being, she says, something she learned after seeing her mom navigate her way through the system. “She's like, I called a person in my insurance. And when I called him, he said my name. And she loved that….”

Some days, the needs of the people reaching out to Ventanillas are straightforward - they need a referral or a vaccine. But sometimes, says Dianne, you have to “see beyond” to understand what’s really going on with them.

Once, a woman came in looking for a vaccine. “I saw her and knew something was happening to her. So I asked her if everything was fine at her casita (small home), and if she had food at her casita.” It turns out, the woman didn’t. Dianne keeps food at Ventanillas for situations like these. She says at least ten times in the last year there have been occasions where people needed food, but didn’t admit to it until she asked. Other times - Dianne simply asks how someone walking into Ventanillas is doing. She’ll often learn they need mental health support.

“You really need to care when you're talking to a person and see beyond what's going on with them… a lot of people say I'm going to help you, that they will call you back, but they don’t do anything again. So when I call back or when I say hey, this is the information, they’re surprised,” said Dianne.

Dianne admits her work comes with an emotional toll. “Sometimes I close the door of my office, and I cry. Because the things that we see here and hear here are sad.”

Her job could get even more challenging In the coming months, if Congress doesn’t extend continuous coverage of Medicaid when the COVID emergency period ends. Over 200,000 Georgia residents could lose Medicaid by the end of the year, and a large proportion of those who would lose out would be Black and Hispanic children.

“We serve the entire Latino community, and this will affect both the worker and the population that needs the total help of the government, opening more the gap between health services and the community,” said Dianne.

The loss of Medicaid would further limit healthcare options, especially for those who are undocumented and uninsured. They would either have to go to a community clinic (which are often overextended or have limited hours) or go straight to the ER for ANY medical issue, where they can get emergency Medicaid, said Dianne.

But despite the challenges, she'll continue to work to fill the gaps - because she couldn’t see it any other way. “This is my community.”

Mohamad, his parents, older brother and younger sister fled Syria almost ten years ago, soon after the war broke out. His family, ethnically Kurdish and originally from the city of Afrin in northern Syria, had been living in Aleppo. Mohamad can still remember the way the buildings shook when the first time he heard a bomb blast on his way home from school. “It was so loud,” he said. The family escaped to Turkey, where he and his brother worked at a plastics factory (“we were working in the worst conditions with the hardest job”).

Mohamad and his family were granted asylum in the U.S. and moved to North Carolina in 2016, before eventually settling in Clarkston in 2018.

He secured a place at Georgia State University. But in his third semester there he began having trouble focusing on his premed classes. Something was making it hard for him to study, to get things done. “You know when you have a problem but cannot define it? That was the case,” he said.

His leg was also bothering him. “I was feeling pain in my leg for some reason.” He went from doctor to doctor, hoping to figure out what was wrong. He got X-rays taken. Painkillers prescribed. They couldn’t find anything and nothing seemed to work. “I couldn’t get any help. I was going through treatment options…but I couldn’t benefit from them.”

When he bumped into Dr. Mary Helen O’Connor, a professor who had initially helped enroll him in school, on campus one day, he opened up to her. He told her he was having trouble focusing, but he couldn’t find the words to define or describe what he was experiencing. She suggested he look into something called Narrative Exposure Therapy (NET). He read up on it and was intrigued.

The image that sticks in Mohamad’s brain about NET is one invoked by Dr. Johnathan Orr, a Clinical Associate Professor and Coordinator of the Clinical Mental Health Counseling Program at Georgia State University. “He described it like…imagine you have broken glass in your skin and you try to take it out. So it doesn't hurt you again.”

When he ran into Dr. O’Connor again, this time in Clarkston, he told her he was ready to participate in NET. He signed up and things got started.

After an initial zoom session, Mohamad sat down at the library of GSU’s Perimeter College campus in Clarkston with a therapist. She brought a box with all the tools they would need - string, flowers, stones, sticks, postcards, and markers. He started by recalling his earliest memory. At every subsequent session he went through events that stuck out in his memory - good ones and difficult ones.

For each difficult memory, they placed a stone on his lifeline (the string). These difficult or “hot” memories as he called them - took time. Sometimes an entire session. He says recounting them in such detail made him physically feel like he was there, reliving it again.

Joyful moments were represented by flowers. Postcards under the stones and flowers described what had happened. After 13 sessions, they had strung out his entire life. “It was like seeing your life as a movie,” he said.

The lifeline Mohamad created with his therapist. Photo courtesy of Mohamad Alo.

The process is set up to help desensitize traumatic memories, and stop people who’ve suffered trauma from perpetually being in fight or flight mode, said Dr. Ashli Owen Smith, a Behavioral Scientist and Assistant Professor at Georgia State University, who has been leading efforts to provide mental health resources to communities in Clarkston. “When you start to place traumatic events in the chronology of your life and think about what came before and what came after that, the construction of that autobiographical narrative helps to process the traumatic events in a more proactive way.”

Mohamed says the therapy made him realize just how much he had been through since his family left Syria - and gave him the words to describe what he was experiencing. "I’m an adaptable person but I was shocked..between [the] exchange of different cultures and situations and places. Every time I [went] through something, I blamed the situation or blamed the government or my country or the people…it’s like you blame everyone as you transition from this older life to a new life.” Taking the time to carefully look at the events of his life in sequence made him realize that some of the tough events had led to some good too.

And, he says that after completing the therapy, his leg pain had gone away. “A lot of pain actually was kind of psychological or mental.”

NET has been offered to people who have experienced complex forms of trauma - especially those who’ve experienced war, natural disasters, human trafficking, and sexual violence. The International Rescue Committee - Atlanta and Georgia State University have recently received funding to pilot a program this fall to both offer the therapy to residents and to train residents who have undergone it themselves, to offer it to others in the Clarkston area, where there’s a need for more mental health resources. Four out of ten residents surveyed said they have needed counseling or therapy since 2020, but have not gotten it, according to a needs assessment report by the Georgia State University Prevention Research Center. The initial program, said Dr. Owen Smith, will focus on offering the therapy to women from Afghanistan - specifically mothers - with a history of trauma.

Now that Mohamed is certified as a NET therapist, he hopes to convince others in his community of its benefits. “I think everyone has some traumatic events [that] happen in life. But a lot of people…[ are] getting impacted by this trauma, but they don't realize it.”

These days, Mohamed is on his summer break. When he’s not working his summer job at a restaurant, he’s working on social media campaigns for the Kurdish American Medical Association, to help raise awareness of mental health. In the fall, he’ll be back at GSU studying pre-med. He says he hopes to be the kind of doctor who prioritizes mental health. “I understand more how mental health can really impact physical health. So one thing I would like to do if I become a doctor, is to guide my patients to get mental health checkups. The same way you go you test your blood to see if there's any indicator for future diseases, the same for mental health...if not even more.”

Mohamad at the Doctor for a Day Conference in Atlanta in 2020. Photo courtesy of Mohamad Alo.

Kim Rodriguez is nothing short of a pioneer. She’s the founder of Latinas Running - a body positive community of runners across the country who are breaking running stereotypes just by being who they are. The main message the group wants to get across is simple: all paces, all body types, and people of all different backgrounds are welcome to join in the joy of running, or walking.

This month, on May 28th, Latinas Running is hosting a run/walk at Murphy Candler Park dedicated to supporting mothers. Given the current baby formula shortage, the group is asking for those joining to bring formula and other baby items to donate to the Norcross-based nonprofit Helping Mamas (More info here).

When Kim isn’t facilitating the community of runners and walkers, she runs her own chiropractic practice in Marietta, all while still finding new ways to break boundaries. In March, Latina’s Running hosted the first ever Mujeres who Hike event to encourage more diversity in hiking.The Refugee Women’s Network and the Georgia Conservancy, are also part of an effort to encourage more people from diverse backgrounds to take up hiking.

I connected with Kim about what inspired her to start hiking and how she got folks to venture out of their comfort zones and into the outdoors.

How did you come up with the idea to have a Mujeres who Hike event?

I thought of the Mujeres Who Hike event to bring women together during Women's History Month, and to also remind the community that Latinas Running welcomes all, and not just Latinas. Aside from my love for running, hiking is also one of my favorite activities and my goal is to start bringing more hikes to Latinas Running. Hiking allows us to come together as a community, check out mentally from our daily lives, and bond on the trails. When we're running, we don't really get a chance to talk throughout the run; but hiking allows us to communicate on the trails while doing a physical activity.

Although hiking can be physically challenging, it's very hard to say you don't enjoy the views once you get to the top of the mountain. It also brings a sense of accomplishment, and it feels so rewarding. I plan on creating this signature every event every year, so that women can come together and empower one another. Empowerment can be as little as saying hello to a new woman, giving her a hug, sharing a smile, and sharing your story. I want this to stay a safe space where women can come together and explore the outdoors.

Is hiking common in LatinX communities? Why or why not? Do you hike regularly or is this new for you?

Hiking is not as common in the Latinx Community, but it is slowly growing. Oftentimes, the lack of representation in media, lack of outdoor gear and materials, and simply not knowing about these activities is what limits many in our community from enjoying. Not to mention, in a lot of these green spaces and parks, BIPOC people have experienced feelings of uncertainty or worry when traveling through routes where there is not much diversity.

It's hard to do something you've never seen or if your circle isn't doing much outdoor activities.

This is why having communities that welcome all and who are doing the work of getting people outside and diversifying the outdoors is important.

Do you think there are any misconceptions people in the Hispanic community (or other immigrant communities) have about hiking?

I can't think of any misconceptions per say, but there is a lot of uncertainty and little knowledge.

Common thoughts that people think are they have to be super athletic to hike and or have a different mentality about hiking because of the limited media. Many times, people think hiking has to be climbing a huge hill and incline. Hiking can be simply going for a long walk on a trail and it doesn't have to require some serious elevation.

For people who want to join, but are nervous or it's new for them - do you have any words to encourage them to try?

- Remember to pause and breathe

- Don't forget to hydrate while you're hiking too, not just before and after.

- Oftentimes we take off really fast, and use up all our energy right away. It's important to slow down .

- Be aware of your surroundings at all times

- Hiking requires using a lot of muscles, especially your quads with hip flexion. Try and listen to your body, and slow down when needed.

- Check the weather, so you know how to dress before your hike

- Take sunscreen/ bug spray.

- Wear the right shoes and socks ( Hiking boots with good ankle support )

- Pack some snacks. People get surprised how hungry they can get on a trail and take a backpack with you.

- Take a journal - and don't forget to seize the moment. Once you make it to your destination, give thanks to the land you hiked on and honor any other feelings.

Are there any other upcoming Latinas Running events people should know about?

We will be hosting more group runs/walks and hikes throughout the year. Follow along @latinasrunning on instagram or facebook to stay updated. Check out info about the May 28th event at Murphy Candler Park here.

Top photo: Hiking up the Pine Mountain Trail in Cartersville, GA at the Mujeres who Hike event in March 2021. Photo courtesy of Kim Rodriguez.

For Mental Health Awareness Month and Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month, 285 South spoke with Kaila Tang, a licensed social worker in Atlanta, about mental health in the Asian community.

When Kaila Tang was a 19-year-old college student, she biked up to the student counseling center at her university in California. She had been struggling to balance the responsibilities of school and living on her own for the first time. Her plan that day was simple: walk through the door and ask for help. But something stopped her. “I just remember biking up to the building and not having the courage to walk in,” said Kaila.

Back then, the concept of mental health wasn’t familiar to her. “Growing up in a traditionally Chinese household, I think things like mental health, [were] definitely not talked about...” She had no idea if anything she was struggling with even merited being in therapy. And the idea of exposing herself to a complete stranger was intimidating.

“I just had no idea what was going on. I felt very lost. I felt very confused. And I think in my mind, I might have minimized what therapy could actually provide me before even trying it. So I essentially talked myself out of it.”

But three years later, she decided to see a therapist. The experience, she says, was life-changing. “It was the first time I was able to cultivate a relationship with someone who I felt was really interested in hearing how I felt. And what I had to say.” She decided to pursue a career supporting people the way she had been supported - with a focus on working with underrepresented communities.

Kaila is now a licensed social worker, with mostly Asian American clients in the Atlanta area. She’s training to be a psychoanalyst and is chief of programming for the Asian Mental Health Collective. She’s also co-founder of Asian Mental Health Professionals of Georgia - a community and online platform that makes it easy to seek out Asian identifying therapists and counselors.

Her passion and her skills, to say the least, are needed. Since the pandemic, 41 percent of Asian Americans surveyed nationwide say they have experienced symptoms of anxiety or depression. Before the pandemic, it was under 10 percent.

Kaila says her patients are dealing with a range of issues, and that having a therapist who can relate to challenges around navigating different cultures and belief systems, makes a difference. “We grow up with this ingrained belief that family is everything, you do everything for the community. Sometimes it comes before yourself even. I'm not saying that’s right or wrong or good or bad. It's just different compared to growing up in America...you might find yourself struggling between two different cultures and feeling the need to choose one or the other. I hear a lot of that.”

Acts of anti-Asian hate and discrimination can exacerbate symptoms of anxiety and depression - Asian Americans who faced discrimination were twice as likely to need mental health support, according to the Asian American Psychological Association.

Kaila’s experience has mirrored that. When the Atlanta area spa shootings happened in March 2021, Kaila says she had an influx of patients. “I think that really not only scared people but also forced them to think about their own identity. And I think it brought up a lot of past buried memories of growing up as a minority or growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood, attending a predominantly white school.”

The demand for mental health support is high, and yet, says Kaila, there just aren’t enough providers from diverse backgrounds who can help patients navigate culturally sensitive and complicated issues. She thinks the lack of diverse providers is in part because of the lingering stigma of mental health in Asian communities. “Sometimes it's difficult for people to even consider a profession in mental health because it's not as prestigious as being a lawyer or a doctor….But again, you know, if you're not growing up having conversations around mental health, why even why even pursue a career in it?”

For Kaila, therapy and tuning into her own mental health not only helped her find her voice, it made her realize she wasn't alone. “I think people often feel like they're the only one going through whatever it is they're going through and that's not true. The more people you talk to, the more you'll realize like, actually, there are other people out there.”

To mark both Mental Health Awareness Month and Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, I asked Kaila to share some mental health tips with readers:

• Check-in with yourself daily. “I would encourage people to take five minutes out of their day to really check in with themselves and to check in with how they're feeling.”

• Open up. “A lot of struggles are intergenerational. These are things that you can't fix overnight. It's not something that you can necessarily just speak to a friend about, and think that that'll solve any kind of issue. I encourage people to not only start talking with themselves about mental health, and if they're not ready for treatment, just talk about it with people in the community."

• Trauma can be transgenerational, and takes time to understand. Don’t be afraid of therapy. "Therapy isn't something to be scared of. It can be, like it was for myself, really life changing. In order to make that change, keeping in mind transgenerational trauma and breaking the cycle, often requires just learning about what that looks like, how you feel about it, what you do, and how you want to move forward in your life. So I think therapy really offers that space to reflect and to process and then to plan.”

Learn more:

Asian Mental Health Collective

Asian Mental Health Professionals of Georgia

Aguirre Center for Inclusive Psychotherapy

Raksha

Top photo - Credit: Getty Images.

Leah Abucayan is painting the outline of a giant 4-foot pink dragonfruit, part of a 70-foot long mural at Pinetree Plaza on Buford Highway. The sun is bouncing off the asphalt, and in between brushstrokes she takes sips of an iced coffee to stay cool.

For Leah, it’s not just the first mural she’s ever done of this size, it’s also a way for her to pay homage to something quintessential from her childhood: kamayan. Literally translating to “eating with your hands” in Tagalog, kamayan is a Filipino style communal meal, laid out on banana leaves and eaten with your hands. But the kamayan she’s painted along the side of Pinetree Plaza doesn’t just have Filipino food - it includes ramen, spring rolls, Korean BBQ, tacos, as well as traditional Filipino foods like the dessert halo halo. “Instead of using the traditional foods on a big banana leaf, I wanted to incorporate different cultures. So it's like a mix of my own, but also a mix of everything that you find on Buford highway.”

The mural came to be through a collaboration between the City of Doraville, the public art nonprofit LivingWallsATL, and Halpern Enterprises, the company that owns Pinetree Plaza. It’s the first phase of a larger project launched by the City of Doraville and private property owners to develop a 2.6 mile span of Buford Highway - the BUHI Walk - by incorporating murals from local artists. “The idea behind it is to showcase the diversity in the community…to have a stretch that you can walk and enjoy the art and also visit businesses,” said Emily Heenan, spokesperson for The City of Doraville.

That famous Buford Highway diversity is also what drew Leah here. When she moved here from California with her husband six years ago, she found herself looking for foods that reminded her of her mom’s cooking. “I went on Yelp… I was looking for the Oriental market, and like where’s the Filipino food. Immediately I found Buford Highway. I guess it's like a taste of what I was used to at home…its like what you look for when your family is far.” (Kamayan Atl - a popular Filipino restaurant - is just a two minute drive away from the mural at Pinetree Plaza.)

Growing up, at least once a year, her mom insisted on making a kamayan style meal. “My mom always did it because she wanted us to know our culture,” said Leah. She’d cover the kitchen table with banana leaves and fill it with traditional Filipino foods like pancit (noodles), lumpia (egg rolls), leche flan, BBQ on a stick, and halo halo (a cold dessert made with a mix of ingredients like shaved ice, milk, and fruit).

Already, the mural seems to have tapped into something in the community. Leah says the owner of Rice Cakes, a Korean cafe just across from the mural, regularly comes out to bring her snacks. Another woman has been coming by with her small child and watching her paint for the last three days. And people drive by regularly, Leah says, asking how they can get art for their businesses. “I can definitely see in the community, and the business owners, that they want more art…”

Arah Kang, an Atlanta area native who grew up in the Johns Creek area before the demographics shifted so dramatically, has been working alongside Leah on the mural. “It feels super surreal. I have other friends who also grew up with me. They've stopped by and been like, this makes me feel really emotional.”

The representation - seeing foods you grow up eating at home - Arah says, is huge. “For children who are going to walk by with their parents. Or like, they point and they notice…that's big, because we've never really had that growing up.”

This effort to cultivate and celebrate what Buford Highways means not just for the residents who live in the area, but also for Atlanta as a whole, has been gaining momentum, thanks in part to organizations like We Love Buford Highway, that work to ensure that local communities are included in the conversation and that their histories are accurately represented. In February, the City of Brookhaven officially named Buford Highway the “Buford Highway Cultural Corridor,” and is part of a larger plan to devote more resources to arts and culture in the area.

These initiatives are highlighting the area’s diversity, but they also seem to be reaching people on another level - they’re helping traditionally underrepresented communities feel seen.

“It’s not just food. It’s way deeper than that,” said Leah.

Last month, 285 South reported that Gwinnett County Public Schools may add halal hot dogs to school lunch menus next year, after the success of the halal burger. Gwinnett County Public Schools is among just a handful of school systems in the U.S. that offers halal meat. Here's how it all happened, exclusive to 285 South.

It was October 28th, 2021. Yusuf Naviwala was sitting in the cafeteria of Trickum Middle School in Lilburn. His close friend Max was next to him. Today’s lunch would be different - different from the days when he begrudgingly ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He opened the container labeled “HALAL FOOD.” Max opened a white paper bag that had a giant red oval shaped sticker on it, with two big yellow letters on it: “HB” And in smaller black letters: “100% Halal Beef.”

After all this time, was it really happening?

Yusuf and Max take their first bites of the halal burger at Trickum Middle School in Lilburn. Photo Courtesy of Sophia Jetpuri-Naviwala.

The burger looking back at Yusuf was among the first halal burgers to be served in a public school in Georgia. Would it taste good? He took his first bite.

The story of how Yusuf’s halal burger came to be is the culmination of a surprising cross-cultural friendship between two boys, of two mothers’ love for their sons, of shifting demographics in the suburban South, and of a willingness of communities to step outside of their comfort zones and work together towards a shared goal.

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Since Yusuf was in fifth grade, he ate the same thing, almost every day, for lunch - a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He didn't have much choice. The then 11-year-followed a halal diet - which meant he couldn't eat the burgers, chicken nuggets, or hot dogs being offered in his school cafeteria. Even cinnamon buns, which he loved, were off limits for him because they were served in the same tray as the chicken tenders.

“I didn’t like the PB and jelly every single day. And I know it costs money. Why should we be eating something we don’t like that costs money?” the now-13 year-old Yusuf told me. His mom, Sophia Jetpuri-Naviwala, had dragged him out of his room to speak with me (he had been sulking in his room after he brought home a bad test grade.)

Yusuf’s struggle with the PBJ would, however, be overcome. Partly because of his friendship with Max.

Yusuf and Max had first met as fourth graders at Arcado Elementary in Lilburn. Yusuf had been bullied regularly (“he didn’t even understand half the time when he was being bullied” said Sophia) and Max was popular, friends with everyone. But despite those surface differences, their friendship was instantaneous. With Max on his side, the bullying got better. “Having Max with him made such a big difference… he ended up having like that bridge to kind of get through to everyone else,” said Sophia.

Their friendship deepened - Yusuf and Max had regular play dates where they would play Fortnite or cook or go on excursions like rock climbing or go-Karting.

Max and Yusuf playing video games. Photo courtesy of Sophia Jetpuri-Naviwala

Sophia admits that helping Yusuf cultivate that friendship with Max didn’t come naturally to her. Their family had always stuck with socializing with people in their own Muslim community. Even simple things like the fact that Max had a dog, felt so different. “Max actually has a little Beagle dog that Yusuf just fell in love with.” (Muslims are generally discouraged from keeping dogs in their homes).

Yusuf said he thinks he was hanging out in Max’s mom's kitchen (but he can’t remember exactly) when he first mentioned halal meat.

Now, Max’s mom is Rachel Petraglia, who happens to be the culinary coordinator for Gwinnett County Public Schools.

“I just asked, can she put halal meat? Because I don’t like the pb and jelly.”

That was back in 2020, just before the pandemic. While Yusuf went back to video games and school work, Sophia decided to do whatever she could to advocate for halal meat options. “It was my son’s voice that empowered me to basically harass everyone in our district for a year,” Sophia wrote in a Facebook post.

The first email she sent was to follow up with Max’s mom, Rachel. The issue reached the School Nutrition Program at GCPS. The department, led by Karen Halford, recognized the need for more options. By the end of 2020, thanks in part to their joint efforts, a whole new vegetarian line of menu items were on offer. Students following a halal diet had way more options: everything from bean burgers to veggie sub sandwiches to bean and cheese burritos. But halal meat remained elusive.

Over a year later, in April 2021, Sophia connected with members of the Muslim community in Gwinnett who had separately been pushing for halal meat options in schools - among them - Gwinnett residents Rahim Shah and Sana Sattar. They combined forces and met with the new superintendent Calvin Watts, who seemed eager to work with the Muslim community. The momentum continued to build. Sophia researched other school halal meat programs in the country and provided information about suppliers. By the summer of 2021, the GCPS School Nutrition Program was doing taste tests of the halal burger.

In October 2021, GCPS piloted the burgers. Halal certified burgers were offered in five schools in the county: Brookwood High School, Parkview High School, Creekland Middle School, Trickum Middle School, and Arcado Elementary. Superintendent Watts, Gwinnett County School Board Chair Everton Blair and State Senators Sheikh Rahman and Nikki Merritt even came out to the momentous unveiling of the burger.

Gwinnett County Public School piloted the halal burger in five schools in October 2021. Photo courtesy of Sana Sattar.

3,000 halal burgers were served in those three months. GCPS decided to expand the program and offer the burgers to all county schools.

Since then, GCPS has served 43,000 halal-certified burgers in school cafeterias.

"We are pleased to offer culturally acceptable foods to our students. Procurement of high-quality products for our program is so important and to have found a burger that is also Halal certified is a win-win!," said Halford, Director of the School Nutrition Program.

And even though the halal burger isn’t on the menu every day (it’s offered once a week at high schools and every three weeks in elementary and middle schools), parents also say it's win.

A batch of halal burgers, ready to be eaten. Photo courtesy of Sana Sattar.

The demographics of Gwinnett County Public Schools have changed dramatically in the past 20 years. In 1996, its student population was 80 percent white. As of 2020, it’s 80 percent non-white. The dramatic demographic shift has meant that school administrators have to respond to the needs of a changing student body.

From left to right: Sophia Jetpuri-Naviwala, Dr. Calvin Watts- GCPS Superintendent, Asma Naviwala, Yusuf Naviwala, Max Petraglia, Ryan Queen - Principal of Trickum Middle School , Everton Blair - GCPS Board Member. Photo Courtesy of Sophia Jetpuri-Naviwala

The historic move to include the burgers on its school menus is part of that response. Gwinnett County Public Schools didn’t widely publicize the development, but they are now one of just a handful of school districts across the country to offer halal meat to its students. Others are in NYC, Dearborn, San Diego - all in areas with large Muslim populations.

These days, Yusuf isn’t eating just halal burgers at school. He can eat the cinnamon buns too because they’re now offered as an a la carte option - an adjustment that Sophia said Max's mom helped see through.

“Once you've built that relationship with people outside of your own comfort zone, and they get to know you, and understand people's differences, you build that bridge, then it was like, the whole dynamic shifted. It was like, okay, we know you and we love you, let's see what we can do to help you,“ said Sophia.

That may be so, but it doesn’t answer perhaps the most important question in this story. Is the burger good? “Very good,” Yusuf told me, recalling that first bite. “I was very happy.”

Under consideration for next year - halal hot dogs. And there are rumors even of possibly, just possibly, chicken nuggets.

With her two year old son Akana circling around her legs, Jintana Ortiz looked through the chain link fence at the small strip mall that has defined her life. The restaurant that her parents have owned for almost two decades sits at one end of the building.

The pandemic had already already taken its toll on the restaurant. Then on May 6, 2021, a devastating fire tore through the strip mall. Three of the Colony Village Plaza’s five businesses were completely destroyed. Just the restaurant, Siamese Basil Thai, and the neighboring hair salon were left.

For months, the charred contents, burned signs, and hollowed storefronts stared out at the street, untouched. Tenants said there had been no attempt by the landlord to either renovate or demolish the building.

An informal economy began to take hold amid the debris. Vendors put up tents in the parking lot, selling 10 dollar t-shirts, snacks and fruits to passersby. When winter came, and the temperatures dropped, Jintana spotted squatters moving into the spaces where her fellow tenants once worked.

Things weren’t always this way.

Siamese Basil Thai sits on South Norcross Tucker Road, one of the many arteries feeding into Jimmy Carter Blvd, a bustling six lane economic powerhouse in immigrant Atlanta. This area is filled with Hispanic and Asian owned businesses.

The restaurant marked the beginning of Jintana’s family story in Georgia. Every square foot of it is filled with her memories: sitting at tables trying to finish homework between bussing duties; summers playing in the parking lot with the children of the other tenants; scribbling on the walls of the back office with her brother.

As a child, Jintana hated it. The restaurant was the reason she didn’t have a typical American childhood. She didn’t get to hang out with friends, go to prom, or even hang out at the mall. If she wasn’t at school, she was here, helping the family business.

But the restaurant also made it possible for her parents to buy a home and for her to get a college education. She says that now, the idea of having to point to Colony Village Plaza one day and tell her son that the restaurant his grandparents owned was once here, but now is gone, is almost unbearable.

“Regardless of how I felt about it growing up, that restaurant, we owe our lives to it.”

Growing up at Siamese Basil Thai.

Jintana’s parents met in a Thai restaurant. One 350 miles south of here, in Florida.

Her father, rather than return home to Thailand after a stint working on oil rigs in Saudi Arabia, had decided to try his luck in the United States. And her mother had come to America after her family’s farm suffered a bad crop season.

They both found work at a Thai restaurant in Jacksonville. Her dad worked as a dishwasher and her mom was a cook.

Jintana was born, then her brother Matthew. When a new owner took over the Jacksonville restaurant and working conditions worsened, her parents spoke up and rather than respond to their concerns, the owner fired them. So her parents drove up interstate 75 to Atlanta, and found work in the restaurant in Colony Plaza. Then, in 1995, when those owners decided they wanted to sell, her parents jumped at the opportunity.

“My parents scrapped every penny they had and offered to buy the restaurant. And they started from there.”

As toddlers, Jintana had to find ways to occupy herself without getting in her parents’ way. She and Matthew played in a tiny storage closet in the back by the kitchen. When they misbehaved, they hid from their parents silently under the tables.

When she grew older, she learned to juggle school work and restaurant work. “When a customer walked in, I had to stop, go tend to them, and then come back to the math problem.”

There was no time (or money) for ‘normal’ childhood activities. “We don't know how to ride a bike, we can’t swim, we only know how to fold napkins into whatever shape you want.”

Siamese Basil was a tight, family run operation and they depended on each other to keep it going. “I used to be the cashier. My brother was a dishwasher. My dad was a server, and my mom was the cook.”

“We wouldn't be who we are without the restaurant.”

The Fire on South Norcross Tucker Road

During the first week of May in 2021, Jintana and her family were starting to feel hopeful after months of strain from the pandemic. She’d quit her job at a law firm and was back working at the restaurant. Anticipating a busy Mother’s Day weekend, her father ordered 20 cases of chicken that week instead of the usual four. They stored gallons of Thai tea, and stocked everything in their newly renovated kitchen.

On Wednesday, May 5, Jintana said things started to feel off. Her mother and brother were trying to get into the restaurant, when the key got jammed. “My mom was like, damn it. This key that I’ve been turning for 30 years has finally given out. I hope I don’t have to turn this key much longer.”

Then, on Thursday morning at 6am, Jintana saw she had a missed call on her phone from Indra, the woman from the hair salon next to the restaurant.

“I called her back and was like, why are you calling me so early?” She told Jintana that the building had caught fire. Jintana couldn’t quite comprehend what she was being told. “I was like, are you sure? Are you pulling my leg?”

After she hung up, she looked up the news on her phone. “I saw the Plaza and I was like...this can't be true.” She immediately called her dad, waking him from his sleep and breaking the news. “I heard him yelling for my brother, saying let's go to the restaurant.”

The rest of the day didn't feel real. Her brother and father went to the Plaza, but couldn’t get into the restaurant. “There were police, an arson investigator, firefighters everywhere.” The other business owners were gathered in front of the building - stunned by what they were seeing.

By 7:30am, a local TV reporter tweeted that the fire had been put out.

The lanes on South Norcross Tucker Road that had been blocked by the fire trucks were open again. Traffic began to flow.

For everyone outside of the Plaza, life moved on. For the tenants, everything had changed.

The Mexican restaurant La Fragua, the sporting goods store Deportes Mundial, and the convenience store Coyote Feo were beyond rescue. Siamese Basil and the hair salon had escaped the very worst of the damage, although the electrics were fried.

The owners of all five businesses wondered what they were going to do next.

A life beyond the restaurant. Or not?

Growing up, Jintana's dad had always told her that if she worked hard and went to school, she wouldn’t have to work in the restaurant when she was older.

She enrolled at Georgia State University in 2009, where she majored in psychology. After graduating, she got a job in the legal field and worked at a number of law firms in different capacities. Her language skills are coveted in an increasingly diverse Georgia - she speaks English, Spanish, Thai, Laotian, and Hmong.

Still, her ties to the restaurant, or her family, or both, kept pulling her back. “I worked all the way out in Cobb County. And whenever I would come home, I would stop by the restaurant to see if I could help.”

When the pandemic hit and she had a baby, she became one of the over 5 million mothers across the country who had to stop working to take care of her child. Her parents were aging, their business reduced to takeout orders after being closed for months, and she found herself helping out as much as she could. “You know, that’s Asian families.”

She’s now back working at a law firm as a paralegal, but between the recent Omicron surge and daycare staffing shortages, Jintana decided to keep her son with her brother at the restaurant. A table with Akana’s toy trucks and a small sandbox are sandwiched between tables piled high with boxes of takeout containers.

“I promised myself my kid was never going to be stuck in the restaurant. Look at where he's at,” she said, pointing to a makeshift bed on the floor where Akana is sleeping.

The aftermath of the fire.

It’s been more than six months since the fire, and it’s still not clear what exactly happened. In September, a spokesperson from the Gwinnett County Fire Department said that the case was closed with the cause being undetermined. A call to the private investigator on the case led to a referral to a representative for the insurance company Liberty Mutual. That representative didn’t respond to calls or emails.

Jintana and the other business owners have their own theories - but no resources have been put into investigating any of their suspicions.

So they've had to move on, and focus on just surviving. The four other tenants in the building, said Jintana, didn't have insurance and had no way of recouping their losses.

Jintana's family had insurance, but navigating between the insurance company and the landlord was complicated. The insurance didn’t kick in automatically, since, even months after the fire, she said the landlord hadn't communicated what the plan was for the building. “The landlord can't give a definitive answer if they're going to demolish the building, or if they're going to rebuild. And the insurance doesn't want to pay for anything at all until there's something in writing.”

And even though the restaurant had suffered from electrical damage, Jintana says the landlord expected them to stay open, “The same day that the fire occurred, the gas line, the power lines were all destroyed. They wanted us to continue staying open so they could charge us rent. I was scared. I thought it was gonna blow up on us.”

Despite the rent mounting, Jintana’s family decided to close the restaurant while they figured out what to do.

Taking legal action also seemed almost impossible, since there was no solid paperwork to stand on. “We don't even have a lease agreement to be completely honest." They had hoped their long standing relationship with the landlord ("they've been our landlords since we opened") would count for something, but it didn't lead to any leniency on rent payments or otherwise.

The month to month, informal arrangement they had with the landlord wasn’t unique. The family that ran the hair salon was in a similar situation. When asked if they had a lease, the sister who helps run the salon responded, “Yo creo.” I think.

There also didn’t appear to be any form of assistance they could access from the local government. The office of the Gwinnett County Commissioner for the area said they were familiar with the fire and the impacted businesses, and that they are “looking into the County’s response at the time.”

With no obvious avenues of support, Jintana launched a GoFundMe, urging loyal customers to donate money to sustain the restaurant through the difficult time. Cathy Rivera, owner of the Mexican restaurant La Fragua, did the same. Money came in and dozens of customers sent them encouraging messages, but neither reached their fundraising goals.

The tenants had a choice - somehow rebuild what was left of their businesses at their own expense, or accept the loss and move on. Jintana’s family wasn’t sure what to do - so they waited.

What next?

From May to October 2021, Siamese Basil’s doors were closed. Jintana and Matthew used the time to take stock of the restaurant. The rent they owed was stacking up, but the restaurant wasn’t bringing in any income. The landlord had been hard to reach, and they still weren’t certain about the fate of the building itself.

Their parents started helping out at a relative’s Thai restaurant in Duluth. They weren’t used to having spare time. “They’ve worked every single day of their lives. Even during the pandemic, they would go to the restaurant to clean,” said Jintana.

Jintana and Matthew wanted to open the restaurant again, but struggled to see a real future for it. Their parents had been running it for almost two decades, and changing or updating the restaurant in any dramatic way was unlikely at this point. “We’re never going to be a Panda Express,” said Matthew.

And moving the restaurant to a new location would have its own challenges. “It would take a long time to get back to where we were - just to find a new location and find a new clientele base again,” he said. “Maybe it's better for us to just go and do corporate jobs. Because my friends who have corporate jobs, they have a nice cushy retirement and health care. Restaurants don’t have that. It's a very tedious job, like, 12 hours a day. And it's very thankless.”

But the loyalty to their parents and a desire to preserve the family legacy is not something that’s easy to shake off. And, Jintana missed the customers. Dishes like their signature three flavor chicken and traditional green curry (“my parents are old school…we don’t use food coloring, we use spinach leaves and fresh herbs from my mother’s garden”) kept customers wondering when they would open again. Siamese Basil’s online reviews are full of people who’ve been coming back for the food, and customer service, for over 15 years. Without the restaurant, a lot of those connections would be lost. “It's really heartwarming to see that food really connects you to people,” said Jintana.

And yet, she couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted to build a different future for her son.

Siamese Basil opens its doors again: "It's overwhelming."

Siamese Basil opened for takeout in late October 2021, but since half of the plaza is still hollowed out, it’s not obvious that any establishment there is open for business. The insurance company covered the costs required to ensure the restaurant was operable again, said Jintana, after the landlord finally submitted a statement saying they weren’t going to demolish the building.

The landlord didn’t respond to multiple requests to comment for this article.

Customers have been trickling in as they find out that the restaurant is offering carryout. Weekends have been busier, and Jintana has found herself back at the restaurant, helping out when she’s not at the law firm.

Being open again, she said, is overwhelming.

For one, there are supply chain issues. In late 2021, reports on shortages of takeout containers emerged across the country. On New Year's weekend, it hit home, or, it hit the restaurant. They ran out of takeout containers. “I had one customer who literally was like, what if I bring my own container? There was nothing left. It was bad.”

Inflation has caused a surge in costs for staples like rice and fish sauce, forcing them to increase their prices. “We had customers who will leave a Yelp review that this was so expensive and, you know, we don't get to control how much things cost, and we have to be able to keep the lights on.”

Perhaps the biggest challenge has been the passing of time. Her parents are getting old. Every day her father drives to restaurant suppliers to load the car up with groceries - a task that was much easier when he was younger. “My dad is in bad shape….and my brother can’t go with him, because he’s working at the front. So, our hands are tied. And honestly, I don’t know how much longer they have it in them to keep doing this.”

High costs and the ups and downs of the pandemic have forced restaurant owners across the metro area to reassess their businesses. Two Thai restaurants close to Colony Village Plaza, Kokai and Thai of Norcross, have closed or moved in recent months. Siamese Basil is now the only one left in the area. A boon in some ways, a burden in others. The restaurant has picked up new clientele and customers are eager to dine-in. But Jintana doesn’t see that happening anytime soon.

“It's just so risky. We can't really afford for anything to happen to any of us. Because it's just my mom, my dad, Matthew and I.. .So if one of us were to get sick, what are we going to do?”

And so the future of a restaurant and it's hold on three generations of a family in this corner of immigrant Atlanta, is waiting for a decision; one delayed by duty, by memories, and by circumstances beyond their control.

“Everything we know is because of this restaurant. This has literally been the end all be all for us.”

Four years ago Malala Yousafzai walked up to the podium of Ebenezer Baptist Church, a black dupatta draped loosely over her head. She thanked Reverend (and now Senator) Raphael Warnock for his kind introduction. A sea of faces looked up to her, waiting to hear what she would have to say.

Malala was here in Atlanta and it was her first time speaking in a church. "Dr. King raised his voice to change the world – and he did. With my voice, I hope to do the same for 130 million girls who are out of school today."

The Malala the world knows is a young woman who braved Taliban bullets for her beliefs. She's a Nobel Peace Prize winner whose words stir world leaders and young girls alike. She's the co-founder of the Malala Fund - which is currently funding initiatives to support young girls whose education has been thwarted because of COVID.

She's also a fellow Pakistani woman and Bulletin writer (check out her newsletter Podium), who's been living an immigrant experience since she moved to the UK almost a decade ago. So I was delighted when she agreed to talk to 285 South about how to cope with being far from home, the challenges of living in a new land, and balancing multiple identities.

What are the things you do, eat or watch that help you feel closer to Pakistan?

So many things…I still listen to Pashto songs and other Pakistani music, watch Bollywood films and cheer for Pakistan’s cricket team. My mother’s cooking always reminds me of home. My father is in regular contact with so many friends and relatives in Swat. And I look forward to going to Pakistan soon.

For many Pakistani parents, their dream is for their children to be successful — this often means they're a doctor / lawyer / engineer, are married with children and deeply connected to family and the local Pakistani community. What advice do you have for those who don't fit the mold?

All parents want what is best for their children, but I know how hard it can be when our definition of “best” differs. Even though I have always had the support of my parents, it was not always the case with my extended family. Some relatives felt it was inappropriate for me to give interviews when I was first beginning my advocacy for girls’ education – because they had never seen a girl with my background on TV. Over time, they grew to accept it and now they support me.

The world is changing and “successful” today doesn’t always mean being a doctor or lawyer or married with children. So my advice is to try to talk to your parents and explain to them why you have chosen a specific path in life, how it benefits your community and yourself.

Sometimes it can be difficult to get the support or validation you want from your family. But if you are certain the path you’ve chosen is the right path for you – prove to them that you are making the best decisions for yourself. Keep moving forward. And if you’re happy, eventually they will be too. It might take longer than you would like to gain their approval, but if they truly want what’s best for you, they will come around.

When you look at future generations, what do you hope they carry with them from your ancestors?

I look at my generation, who are determined to make the world a better place, and I am hopeful for the future. But I hope we don’t entirely reject our parents’ and grandparents’ way of life, because there is so much we can still learn from them. Specifically, I hope future generations of Pakistanis carry forward our ancestors’ strong sense of community and hospitality.

For the Pakistani diaspora in Atlanta, but also immigrants all over the world, what advice do you have as they balance dual, or multiple, identities?

Don’t feel like you need to hold all these identities equally or appease anyone but yourself. Find ways to express your identity that feel natural, not like a performance. Don’t think you need to wear your hair or dress a certain way or like a certain food just because other people do. Living your life to win someone else’s approval will never be satisfying. People may comment, but you only have to answer to yourself.

I'm a lit junkie too. What are your favorite books about migration, diaspora and identity?

In the last year, I have been recommending Nadia Owusu’s memoir Aftershocks. She’s such a talented writer with an incredible story of growing up across countries and continents. I would say that anyone who is struggling with their identity, who feels out of place or lacks a sense of home should read Aftershocks. (Also, Obama listed it on his best books of 2021 list, but I chose it for my book club first!).

What's your favorite Pakistani food?

My mom’s rice and chicken – but really anything she cooks is delicious.

You were in Atlanta in 2017 when you spoke at Ebenezer Baptist Church. How did you like it? Any plans to come back?

I wasn’t in Atlanta for very long, but I was able to visit Dr. Martin Luther King’s childhood home and Ebenezer Baptist Church. I hope to visit again – I know from reading your newsletter that there is a large Pakistani-American community, so perhaps next time I visit I can spend time in these areas of the city.

Top photo: Malala Yousafzai in Sydney in 2018. Photo credit: Louise Kennerley/Fairfax Media via Getty Images

In Korea, where he was a reporter for seven years for the Korea Times, he witnessed the country’s largest peacetime disaster - the 1995 Sampoong department store collapse in Seoul that killed over 500 people. That same year, Sang Yeong reported on a gas explosion in an underground construction site in the southern city of Daegu.

Here in Atlanta, he’s brought that tradition of breaking stories and investigating wrongdoing, to his publication. And Korean speaking communities have responded. Even though there were already three other Korean language newspapers in the area serving the metro areas large and growing Korean communities (after English and Spanish, Korean is the most spoken language in Georgia), when Atlanta K launched, none of them offered what Lee thought was essential - easily reaching readers on their smartphones and focusing on originally reported stories. On any given month, Sang Yeong says the site gets around 450,000 unique visits - reaching readers mostly in Georgia, but also in states throughout the South.

These days, he spends his time between his home in Athens, and the offices of Atlanta K in Duluth and Suwanee, where his staff is in the midst of a major investigation. A week ago, Atlanta K broke a story that he says has shaken the Atlanta Korean community. The reporting documents allegations of financial mismanagement of COVID 19 federal funds by the former President of the Korean American Association of Greater Atlanta (KAAGA), as well as his failure to satisfactorily answer questions around other KAAGA accounting.

I spoke with Sang Yeon about Atlanta K, the needs of Korean communities in Georgia right now, and what he misses most about Korea.

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Why did you start Atlanta K? How do you think it serves the community and what makes it different from the other local Korean newspapers?

I worked for the Chosun Daily for 10 or more years as an editor-in-chief. I have observed the rise and fall of local ethnic 'paper' news media. The population map of Korean Americans in Georgia is rapidly changing in terms of ages, education, and especially news consumption styles. Most paper media were not ready for this situation.

I thought that Korean Americans in Atlanta need new kinds of news outlets; handy, speedy but thoughtful. I wanted to make Atlanta K a truly mobile-based news platform and it has been a smash hit because 80% of the current readers are using their smartphones.

Most Korean news media here in Atlanta are 'franchise entities'. It means they get most news articles and sources from major newspapers in Korea. I simply don't want to do that. I have been focusing on local scoops and information for the Korean community here. We also concentrate on American politics, economy, and education news which could help Korean Americans understand the U.S. better.

Who are Atlanta K's primary readers? What types of stories are they most interested in?

About 60% of our readers are Koreans Americans in metro Atlanta area. And almost 25% are from the Southeastern states like Alabama, Florida, Carolinas, and Tennessee. I think the rest is from other major Korean communities like LA and New York.

Local news are always No.1 interests, business and education news are very popular. Last year, the spa shooting stories are most read.

What information and stories do you think the community needs more of, that they're not getting?

Government access issue is always the No. 1 concern of ethnic media. We need more information from federal and local governments and public organizations. We are trying to access county and city governments and police departments because our community needs direct information from them, not from mainstream media as late second-hand news.

I believe federal and local governments should try to reach out to ethnic news media with more organized ways.

What are some stories Atlanta K is working on right now?

We are investigating some financial failures of former leadership of Korean American Association in Atlanta now. We have more information right now and I think it could shake Atlanta Korean community for a while.

How has the pandemic impacted the Korean community in the Southeast? In metro Atlanta?

About 60% of Korean families here are running small businesses and many of them are 'mom and pop' stores. The COVID19 pandemic has deeply changed the ways of their businesses and lifestyles. Most are affected in negative ways, and only a few have thrived in spite of the pandemic.

However, there are bright sides, too. As you know, Asians including Koreans are the most rule-abiding citizens. Almost all of Koreans have been getting COVID vaccines and trying to wear masks regardless of government mandates.

I think Korean communities here will survive this Pandemic and jump more steps in the future.

What is your favorite part of living in Georgia? What do you miss most about Korea?

Believe or not, I am a huge 'American' football fan. I love my UGA team and I have never missed watching their games. My 2 sons and I are also ardent Braves fans. We cried together when they won the World champions last November. Only thing I wish in January the Dawgs win the national championship on Monday. Go Dawgs.

And weather, golf, centralized Koreatowns, direct flights from Korea... What's not to like?

I always miss my families and friends in Korea, though. In this pandemic, we can hardly travel to Korea and it hurts us much.

For two of the five years that Maomi Bookstore in Chamblee has been open, there's been a pandemic. It's been hard and yet, the book store has a unique selling point that has no doubt played a part in keeping it going- it's the only Chinese bookstore in the entire Southeast.

This is surprising. Over 60,000 people living in Georgia alone identify as Chinese, and both Texas and Virginia have significant Chinese populations. The Chinatown Mall, where the bookstore is located, is the "oldest Asian shopping center in the southeast," according to its Instagram page. It was established in 1988 and for almost 40 years, the small strip mall on New Peachtree Road has been an anchor for the Chinese community in metro Atlanta. It's famous for hosting the Atlanta Chinese Lunar New Year Festival, which, in a non pandemic year attracts thousands of people from throughout the Southeast.

There was no festival last year and there are no plans for one this year. Like so many small businesses, including Maomi Bookstore, the shops in the mall have been impacted by two tough years.

The Chinatown Mall pivoted quickly at the start of the pandemic - closing dine in services and offering takeout and curbside pick up. Even today, though customers can dine indoors, everyone is donning a mask and plastic dividers in many of the shops separate the cashier from the customer.

But on a weekday afternoon inside the bookshop, run by Yvonne Hou, there is no darkness in sight. Hou's bright, thoughtful and warm energy radiates through the store. There are tables filled with calligraphy brushes, oatmeal colored stationary, and a wide array of books and magazines with Chinese characters. She offers me tea served in a glass kettle and coffee flavored biscuits.

For those who don't speak Mandarin (me), there are bilingual cookbooks, learn to speak Chinese language workbooks, herbal teas sourced from Taiwan, and more. Hou hopes to offer free calligraphy and origami workshops this spring. And if all goes well, tea ceremony workshops next fall.

In the meantime, she's preparing a display of 2022 calendars.

If Omicron passes without too much fanfare (who knows...), I'll plan to be there. You can stay updated on workshop dates and times by following Maomi Bookstore's Instagram page here.

Here are just a few of the items that caught my eye at the shop.