Episode Notes:
In this episode Semhar Araia, CEO of the Diaspora Academy, discusses the transformative power of diasporic life—from visiting Eritrea as a teenager to working there professionally—highlighting the emotional and political significance of being both from a place and apart from it. She shares the story behind her name, revealing a powerful lineage tied to Eritrea’s struggle and resistance.
The conversation delves into the power of the diaspora and diasporic identity, particularly for Black and Brown communities, and the beauty of finding belonging across traditional borders. Semhar advocates for diasporic unity grounded in love, mutual recognition, and feminist values, arguing that the diaspora holds immense potential to reimagine global leadership and collective liberation. In recognition of the power of the diaspora we purposely start our journey through Africa with this conversation with Semhar in her home in DC.
Episode Transcript
Darren Isom:
Welcome to Dreaming in Color, a space for social change leaders of color to reflect on how their unique life experiences personal and professional, have prepared them to lead and drive the impact we all seek. I'm your host, Darren Isom.
This season, we're traveling to the continent, to highlight African leaders and the continent's role as a key driver of global innovation and leadership. So join us as we travel across the continent, from South Africa to Tunisia, with stops in Kenya, Ethiopia, Nigeria and Senegal along the way, celebrating the diaspora and all of its complexity and beautiful possibility. This is Dreaming in Color Africa.
Today, I get to chat with Semhar Araia, the CEO and founder of the Diaspora Academy. An innovative Institute advancing diaspora leadership, engagement and impact. A globally recognized thought leader, strategic advisor and policy expert, Semhar has over 25 years of experience, shaping diaspora engagement, African Affairs, women's leadership and global development. Named one of the top 100 most influential people of African descent and honored by President Barack Obama as a White House Champion of Change, Semhar has received numerous global accolades for her pioneering work. She is also featured in the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture as one of the five individuals in its Next Generation Voices exhibit. Prior to launching the Diaspora Academy, Semhar built and led the Diaspora Public Policy function at Meta, advising the Africa Middle East and Turkey public policy team. She also led UNICEF USA's National Diaspora Partnership portfolio, working with immigrant-led organizations to expand philanthropic engagement. Her policy expertise is grounded in prior roles with Oxford International, the US House of Representatives and The Elders, the international organization founded by Nelson Mandela. A lawyer by training, Semhar began her career supporting the implementation of the 2002 Eritrea-Ethiopia Peace Agreement. Born in New York City to Eritrean parents, and based in Washington, DC. Semhar is a proud daughter of immigrants, a mother, a sister and a mentor, committed to helping others create the spaces they wish existed.
Darren Isom:
Hello. Hello. Samhar, how are you?
I'm great. Darren, how are you?
You're looking good. I'm good.
You're looking good too.
Thank you. You know, you know, looks have never been my problem. Looks never been my problem.
Well, we're gonna go ahead and jump in. Great to have you here. Thanks for making time. And as you know, we kicked things off the bit of invocation. So how do you want to open up this conversation?
Semhar Araia:
Well, you know what? I love to open up conversations with an homage to our families and our ancestors and an homage to the people that paved the way for me to get here and for me that that is the legacy of the Eritrean people that fought for a 30-year war, and that's the legacy of my mother and the life that she gave of service for our independence. So sort of my invocation is honoring the brilliance and strength of my people and all of my people, as Africans, as diasporas, as descendants. So I start my morning strong. I start my morning grateful, and I start my morning in peace and ready for anything
Darren Isom:
And that is a beautiful way to start the conversation. So let's jump right in. Thank you for that. So you have an incredible story, friend and an equally impressive background that's taken you across the world. Eritrea, the White House. I'd love to kick us off by taking it back to the very beginning. So I understand, you're born in New York City and lived in DC as a child before relocating to Minnesota. As you know, all very interesting places with significant connections to the diaspora. And so I'd love as an opening question for you to share, how did growing up in these environments shape your early understanding of identity and your relationship to diaspora and your understanding of belonging to that diaspora.
Semhar Araia:
That's so beautiful. Okay, so I love the way you're threading this question. You know, I do think that being born and raised in New York in my formative years, until I was about six, really did shape my sense of self as a global citizen, but also as an Eritrean born in New York during the time that I was born. So, you know, I was raised to activist parents that were organizing for our independence, our struggle for independence, and this is the late 1970s and so we were also a part of many Pan African and many global movements for the rights of people around the world. So I grew up really keenly aware of the voice that I have and the responsibility I have to advocate, but I also understood that this was a shared experience for people who have all migrated or left their homes, or who sit in solidarity, who stand in solidarity with other movements, you know, and I do think that those first years gave me the foundation of who I am, so that when I moved to other places as life unfolded, and I found myself in environments where there really weren't, weren't many of us, right? You know, Minnesota is 96% white. It'll I had enough of an exposure to the world and to the beauty of our diversity and our world being in the United States, but the broad range of black, brown, immigrant experiences, and I felt a connection to all of that. And even when I was in spaces that I didn't have a lot of representation, I think I also learned how to look at people from a human place and trust that their spirit would be able to see me. And in some cases, that was not always the case, but yeah.
Darren Isom:
In many place it was. Right? (Yeah, yeah) The spirit will be able to see. That’s beautiful. I want to jump in a little bit more and talk about those early experiences and that early grounding, if you will. So you noted that you grew up during the Eritrean war for independence, both your mother and your father became deeply involved in advocacy while the conflict continued back home. How did witnessing this kind of trans, transnational activism at home shape your perspective and what is possible when it comes to movement building and creating change, even from afar?
Semhar Araia:
Oh, my goodness, if this isn't the truth of my whole life. It it really not only like there. I can't tell you how, how much of an impression those childhood years have left me with, because it is who I am today, and it's because I saw what was possible. You know, everything from demonstrating in the streets to having a community center, going to language school, a lot of self-reliance elements, preservation of our identity, our culture. I remember getting phone calls from different people around the country wanting to speak with my parents, Eritreans, and friends of Eritrea. But I also remember how difficult it was to hear from my relatives, and I remember getting letters in the mail. They were these, these sheets of paper that you would fold and it have an adhesive, and then the outer edge of that paper would be an envelope. So every time a red, white and blue envelope arrived from a friend, and it wasn't through the mail, it was through people who would had travelled and gone through great lengths for us to have the letter, I remember opening these letters and seeing. My relatives sending messages in Tigrinya to my parents. I still couldn't read Tigrinya at the time, but the beauty of the penmanship. My uncle has the most beautiful penmanship, and I remember that showed me a dignity to who he was and to our people, and we're on the other side, carrying that in our messages. So I think it really helped me see what is possible and where you stand relative to everyone else around the world, but also the inherent privilege we have of being in the United States where, you know, we could really organize and assemble and speak. The last thing I'll say is, I think it has shaped me in such a profound way to understand that it is, yes, I have a privilege, but it's also a responsibility. I have to use my time, talent and treasure for good and to take up space, because many of us are denied space in different ecosystems, even here, we're denied space, and so taking up space was such an intrinsic way of being for us. And I don't want to forget how important that is, that we that we claim our space, that we take it up.
Darren Isom:
I want to, I really want to come back to that, this importance of taking up space, and how we take that for granted, the importance of it all, and the role that we play in all of that. But I do want to jump in now and talk a little bit more about something you've spoken on in earlier conversations about how where we choose to live is often deeply intentional, and one of your most recent podcast episodes, and I want you to talk about your podcast as well. You said people express their needs with their voice or their feet. I know you decide to go to undergrad in Minnesota and later law school in Wisconsin to remain close to your family. Today, you're based in DC, where your mother and father served as pillars in the Fight for your dream independence. Can you share what proximity to community has meant to you throughout your journey?
Semhar Araia:
Yeah, the proximity to community is such a backbone of my life that I there was a period of time where I didn't have it, and that period was in college and in law school, and I had my immediate family, but I wasn't immersed in community the way that I grew up. And I think growing up Eritrean, pre-independence, meant that we were just automatically community by virtue of solidarity in the struggle. And then post-independence, I think we were just getting our sea legs, sort of walking as independent Eritreans being able to say we're Eritrean, it was just an incredible feeling to be able to to see that it's on the map right, that you know, it's, it's, it's got its own existence. Finally, what we've what we've envisioned. And then so part two is how you create community in this post independence world where some people have been waiting for 40 years, like my family in the diaspora and others are new to even being in the diaspora. And so I think that the nexus of and range of community building just suddenly looked so different. It sort of sort of multiplied so quickly. And in those days, in those years where I was deeply in the undergrad or grad, really, grad experience, it was hard. It was extremely hard. It felt very lonely. And then what? Because I moved after grad school to Eritrea, you know, I had, I had a deep immersion, all of a sudden, back into my roots. And I think that injected me. I think my time in Eritrea as an adult reminded me of the work I have to do to build a community in this new age, because we no longer have that automatic autopilot community existence pre independence, and we also have life, you know, adulting like I'm very focused now on the reality of adulting as a diaspora, And I'm very adult in here, but what we're going through in my community is so much about it is the sort of next level of diaspora experiences. We're no longer having to be implicitly defensive about the country and protect its integrity, which we always do. But there's more to it now. We can flourish, we can ideate, we can create, and that is new territory for us. What does community building look like in that space? That's where my head is now.
Darren Isom:
And tell me a little bit about your return to the continent. And then, you know your decision to return to DC, and how does being there reflect who you are today and the kind of work you're doing in this chapter of your life? I love this adulting piece. We're all struggling with adulting, as a country, as communities,
Semhar Araia:
No one knows how to because I thought I had it down. It's just incredible. The lessons I keep learning about adulting as a diaspora. Can you repeat your question, Darren?
Darren Isom:
Yeah, the question of your time back in on the continent, how that shaped you, and then also your decision to come back to DC, like, you know, what was intention behind that? And what does that mean for you as you think about the kind of work that you're driving?
Semhar Araia:
Yeah, I mean, let's, let's just frame this for a second. Eritrea became independent when I was a teenager, when I was 14,or actually, Eritrea became independent when I was 13, and I made a trip when I was 14 in 92 so walking into Eritrea in those years really was a profound, transformative experience as a teenager, because I had just grown up in the US, and we all know what it's like here as a Black person, immigrant backgrounds. And then to set foot in my homeland that I've just dreamt about for so long, and see everyone on the street looking like me, walking like me. No one flinching, no one, no one doing a double take, no one making these microaggressions that we'd like to call them now. It felt strangely freeing and strangely comfortable, and I remember there's a picture of me walking with my family on Main Street. And let me just date myself. I have a Guess t-shirt on and Jabo jean shorts.
Darren Isom:
You were rocking the fashions
Woo throwback okay,
Semhar Araia:
Because that was what my world was in in the 'States. And then, you know, I got, I got to the back to Eritrea, and I just said, "None of this matters, none of this brand, none of this capitalism, none of this like your outfit matters. What matters is your spirit". And I looked at my mom, my aunt, and I said to her, "wow, why do I feel like so happy?" And I had tears in my eyes, and I just looked over at her, and she said, "Because you're home". And to be born in the States, and to navigate what I thought was home, and then to feel another stronger pull of home, just blew my mind. So that anchoring at 14 gave me a window to what I could experience if I went back. And my decision to go to Eritrea professionally, really was, again, a community value, because service is a big part of who we are as Eritrean people, of giving back to our country, giving back to our people, national service is something that we've always underscored in our quest for independence, of giving back and service is more than military service, which people often Think of when they hear national service, but it's volunteering. It's what we have here, AmeriCorps, it's your nonprofit work, it's your so I said, How can I use my again, time, talent and treasure to give back to Eritrea? And I said, I'd love to volunteer. I'd love to volunteer and go after law school for a summer. And I did, and there was no job for me. There was no opportunity. But you know, you make it happen. You knock on doors and you just wait until they say yes, and you say yes, you need me. You don't know you need me, but you need me. And that they're very American of you. You know what I'm saying. So that's the other thing. So going to Eritrea for a summer, I came back to the States, and I was like, That was incredible, but that wasn't enough. I ended up being offered a position to work virtually for the Office of the Legal Advisor to the President of Eritrea as a research attorney in DC. But I... it wasn't enough for me to do it virtually. And you know, it's like a sweater when you pull the string, you just get a little bit. Then you want more than you want, more than you want more. And before I knew it, I just said, I'll go for a month, then three months, then six months. And once you start paying bills in Africa or anywhere in the world, once you start paying bills outside, and you take the bus to go to work, and you meet people for coffee, and then you go make dinner at your house, you live there, and that was really the shift for me. Was experiencing Eritrea finally, as someone who was living there, and it's not the same, because I was a diaspora, you know, I was with a diaspora job, but I had an incredible experience that was rooted in what I went through when I was 14.
Darren Isom:
Oh, wow. And I want, I want to, I'm going to move to the broader diaspora in just a second, but I want to also just continue on this, this topic of space, for just a bit, I understand that your parents chose your name somehow with deep meaning behind it. There's a lot of power in a name, as they can be both. They can both tell our stories of the past and speak to the futures our families imagined for us. What is the story behind your name? Can you share that with us?
Semhar Araia:
Oh, what a question, Darren. So taking up space is with first and foremost my name. So my name Semhar, when I was born, it was the name of a province in the autonomous region of Eritrea, which was have facing a war for independence against Ethiopia, fighting for its independence. And so Semhar is one of the provinces is important because it was, it was on the coastal line of Eritrea, which means access to the Red Sea. Which is essentially the whole basis of the denial of our rights as Eritreans, was that Ethiopia wanted access to the sea. And they still do. So now, as an Eritrean, to be named Semhar during the war, was a direct call out to the province and to Eritrea's right of existence. And so if anybody hears the name... (Your name was radical!) Let me tell you. Oh, you don't even know. Listen, this is the thing is, I thought that was radical! And I went through a discovery of my my whole name journey not too long ago. So I've been, I've been wrestling with this for a while. But Semhar, to me, was always a statement, and it is very telling. It's very telling of the time that I was born, and very telling of the of what we're claiming, as taking up our spaces, owning owning our heritage, our identity. Now, the back story to this that I don't always share, but I really want you to know, Darren, because I just love the story question (Of course!) Semhar is the name they gave me on my third day on this earth. And I had another name for three days, the first three days of my life. And that name was so beautiful, but also it leads to a lot of questions. I remember around eight or nine years old, I was sifting through my mom and dad's things, and I found a paper and it said, it said, Congratulations. It's a girl. It was a little card, like a business card size, congratulations. It's a girl. Name, you know, date, city, state, and the name was written in Tigrinya. And it said, "Werkawit Kohob (sp)". And it said my birthday and my birth time, New York, New York. And I said, "Why does it say Werkawit Kohob?" And they said, and finally they gave me the conversation. They said, "Well, that was, that was the name you had when you were a kid, before we changed it to Semhar". So I grew up knowing that for three days I had this name, Werkawit Kohob which translates into Golden Star. Werkawit, golden star, Kohob. And I thought, why would you name me Golden Star? Like, who's gonna walk around saying Wekawit Kohob, and what would have happened to me? And, you know, I so for years, my entire childhood into adulthood, was like, thank God. They, they, they protected me from called Werkawit Kohob and then my relatives swooped in, and they said, "You can't name her that, give her something more fluid. Give her something more". Okay, so Semhar is the is the result of multiple relatives weighing in. (Oh Wow). Yeah. Well, we found out later why they why they picked Werkawit Kohob. Eritrea's struggle for independence was led by the Eritrean People's Liberation Front, or EPLF. There's another revolutionary group called the Eritrean Liberation Front, so ELF and EPLF, okay? During the struggle, the EPLF flag, which then morphed into the current flag the state has, is red, yellow, green and blue. And at the center it has a star, and it has a yellow, golden star. And I realized that they had actually named me after the star in the flag of the movement, and no one verified this for me. I was never able to ask my mom, my mom and dad later, but to realize like you're named after this, this revolutionary movement, is even more tallied. So between Werkawit Kohob and Semhar I take deep honor in my heritage and the pride of my people.
Darren Isom:
As you should, that's beautiful. So I want to jump. Cause I'm grounded in that, that could have been unification. I want to jump to talk a little bit more about borders, in that the diaspora broadly and so, as you know, and we've talked about before, the African diaspora is incredibly vast, spanning continents, cultures, languages and histories. It holds millions of stories, identities and lived experiences and realities, and yet, there's also something shared, some sense of origin, of connection and of purpose. What does it take to build authentic partnerships across diaspora, where histories, politics and perspectives can vary so widely and at the same time, how do we honor those differences that define our communities while still celebrating our likeness and what we have in common and showing up for each other and building a collective vision?
Semhar Araia:
So when I work on diaspora issues, it's because I understand deeply and I feel connected to the separation and longing to belong. And the separation from our homelands. And for many of us, separating from our homelands was a choice, a difficult choice, a choice we had to make because of opportunity, because of love, because of a job. It was also a choice that we had to make for safety, for fear of persecution, for fleeing from instability, but it was still a choice. And then there's a segment of our diaspora experience where the largest swath of African diasporas were actually uprooted, stolen and kidnapped and denied even the opportunity to know where they came from. And so that umbilical, that quest for your umbilical and to re to connect or reconnect, is what I immediately feel aligned with. And the second thing I see is that because everyone wants to belong, everyone wants a feeling of belonging, you know, validating our. Journeys looks like a few different things. We oftentimes limit our our focus to migrants who have left home because of the harrowing circumstances they may have gone through, or we focus on immigrants in their new homeland, which is incredibly important, but that migration story and how it's affected centuries and centuries of people is a shared journey. And what strikes me, Darren, is we have no problem having this conversation around European migration that goes back 234, 100 years, people talking about what we did in Europe versus now when, when white people talk about their history, it's majestic, it's dignified, it's glorified, it's it's a the narrative is beautiful. The narrative is so heroic, yeah, but Black and Brown people are denied the opportunity to hold their migration journeys with such dignity and such pride. And so even with, especially with African diasporas, I feel extremely strongly that when I see a person of African descent, a Black person, someone who identifies as being of African or Black Heritage, there is a recognition that "you are strong, you are dignified, you deserve respect, and your journey deserves recognition". And if it's not your journey, your ancestors journey, and we don't know all of our ancestors journeys. Um, my, my deepest question and motivation, you know, I when I look at what motivates me around diasporas, I think there is such a fear of Black bodies and Black minds being free. Free to move, free to go everywhere. And that fear is even within ourselves. And so at the heart of my diaspora work as an Eritrean, I understand deeply how strongly we needed to fight for our right to exist. And Africans didn't want us to exist. There was Black dissent with Eritrea's independence. And so what is it about Black people choosing their existence and choosing where they want to exist that is so harrowing and frightening for you? And then you extend that, and you take that even further into the diaspora journey, and you see that it applies in other parts. It applies to South Asia, East Asia. What is it about the freedom to move and live and be as you want that is so frightening to you? Or what is it that it that it does to your sense of self and your sense of power? And so I find that ultimately, the diaspora journey is very welcoming when it is a diasporic journey in the same sort of homogeneous region, Europe, Europe to America. We can just read today's news and see what we're hearing about immigration. But when it comes to the global South, and that is a part of the Diaspora journey I really pay attention to, is diaspora experiences among the global south. What is it even about our own people that dissuades them from thinking they can move around the world? And whether it be by foot or by mind. Do you know what I mean? Like this freedom, this expansiveness of who we are, it's valid. We deserve it. And I think the innate desire to suppress Black thought and freedom, this is why I love diaspora work, because it showcases "this is what you can do if you if you free yourself, if you liberate yourself of your mind". And I'm talking about the mind, you can talk about politics, and you can talk about culture wars and all this. But I really mean when you realize the magnitude of your power as a Black person, as an African, as a diaspora, it's incredible, and so often that is exactly what people fear the most. I also believe the last thing I'll say about the diaspora journey is that what I've also learned is the diasporic journey is a feminist one, and to be in the diaspora is to be feminist, and you really can't exist in the diaspora and succeed or grow or flourish without accepting feminist theories and women and girls their access to opportunity, the power dynamics and the shifts that result in the in the diaspora require you to adhere to more feminist frameworks, and that is where a lot of tension still rests. So I always like to think of the Diaspora journey as being a feminist one and one of liberation. Fathers learn the hard way what it means to raise an overachieving daughter. Mothers learn the hard way what it means to raise enabling and enable their sons, the patriarchy, white supremacy, capitalism, all those things come out in the diaspora journey, and those power dynamics reveal a lot. And I will say Darren, everything I'm speaking about is our truth as a diasporas globally, but it's very pronounced for Black and Brown diasporas, because when we go abroad, we experience white supremacy. We experience racism, we experience institutional bias, and that oftentimes we're not prepared for. When I look at European diasporas, I work a lot with European diasporas as well. So when I look at Irish, Italian, Greeks, Armenians, it's very similar the way we engage as diasporas, but they don't have the barrier of white supremacy, or they have chosen to pass, right? So if you look at Sicilian migration in the Italian American experience in the US, those were Sicilians who wanted overwhelmingly to integrate and to pass. And we don't have the luxury of passing, you know. So I'm taken by the diaspora journey, because of what it's unlocking and what it's requiring us to face, which is our fears, which is our our dreams and our longing to belong. And I do think that Black and Brown minds, when they unlock it is not only deeply transformative, but it levels the playing field globally
Darren Isom:
And can you, I love this final point, or the one of the last points you were making there around this idea of how other communities, as they think about the diaspora, their diasporas, and there's with it is understood a certain level of assimilation, integration, and I'm reminded of, you know, Kenji Yoshino and the whole Covering, right? Like, what's it like to cover and integrate as a way of coming into a country or culture. And with it, I mean, there's a whole level of normalization that comes with assimilation, right? Like you, you assimilate into a culture, and you normalize that culture, you validate that culture. But many of us, we don't have the ability to do that, right? I mean, interest is another conversation, but we don't even have the ability right to integrate, to assimilate to certain cultural norms or even identities. And what does it mean when you actually have this group that's thriving or living that doesn't in some ways validate the norm and the danger of that for a society? And so I mean, with that as a question, I would love for you just to talk a little bit more. We see the upsides, obviously, of the diaspora, but the threat that it poses, or the seeming threat that it poses to standard cultures and how they think about their identities and how it forces them, in some ways, to rethink about themselves and reimagine the narratives they told of themselves. Can you talk just a little bit more about that? I think that's a really power point.
Semhar Araia:
I do think that we see we do see diasporas who, while they can't fully assimilate, they aim to sort of align with mainstream. And that tends to be...I keep seeing this trend. It tends to be along capitalism and economic sort of status. And so we see a lot of Brown, Black, mostly Brown communities, mostly South Asian, examples of a desire to assimilate into a homeland, to succeed economically. And in many ways, that that's a desire to be proximate to power. That is about what we used to say, achieving the American Dream. But no, it's really getting the bag and securing your life. But when it comes to your people, not everyone can do that, because even in the South Asian culture, as you know, just the levels of internalized racism across by shade, it means that some can't escape that either. I find that increasingly diasporas from the global south understand that it's important for them to integrate. They want to integrate. But they can't assimilate. If you're Muslim and you believe in wearing the hijab and you believe in praying five times a day, you're not going to be able to assimilate into this Judeo-Christian white culture. And that's okay. And I think what that does, well, one it, of course, it disrupts the supremacist culture. It's a disruption, but it's also challenging. And I, I What is the learning for me over time? Is, while I'm not here to teach white people, I'm realizing they're real. They are observing our diaspora journeys and seeing that it's relatable to them, or at least that's what I'm in the language that I deliver. In Minnesota, for instance, part of the reason I'm so joyful about this work is because I take pride in supporting diaspora communities from all walks of life, especially from the Global South, and when European diasporas realize that this applies to them, it disarms them completely, and it forces them to ask themselves: "What is what are the internalized racism that I'm carrying?" So when I grew up in Minnesota - I moved there at nine. I went all the way through college - after seeing so much of the United States; I had lived in Louisiana, I'd lived in Seattle, I'd lived in New York, in Boston, in DC, and going to Minnesota and being in a very homogenous place, I... it never it didn't bother me. I knew who I was, but when I would visit Minnesota as an adult. In my 20s, 30s, later in life, these, these Minnesotans, well meaning Minnesotans, would say to me, "Oh, well, you're.. where you from? You're Eritrean? Oh, so are you... when did you get here? You're a refugee?" And and the the to be African in Minnesota almost became synonymous with refugee. And it stunned me. And when I would share this diaspora work, and the Norwegian American would realize that I'm doing the same work that they do, or the Swedish American or the German American, it forced them to realize, "Why did I think she was a refugee?" Because I said Eritrea, because I said African. And so I'm not here to try and change their minds, but I think the learning is that our disruption is simply pulling the veil off to what sort of internalized racism we exist in and others live with. um, yea.
Darren Isom:
No, that's a solid point, and thank you for sharing that. Yeah, I want to go back to in many ways, sometimes an inspiration for you, but it inspired you in a very interesting and compelling way. And so for many, growing up with the legacy of Eritrean war of independence would have deepened a sense of us versus them. Instead, you've chosen to embrace solidarity and champion a sense of shared purpose across the diaspora. What gave you the vision to see beyond your you see beyond these inherited divisions, and how do you nurture that kind of cross border partnership in your work today? And what do you think is possible for the diaspora when we choose to lead connection despite our differences?
Semhar Araia:
Yeah, I think it's very easy to get stuck in a defensive position, and be so defensive about Eritrea's right to exist, for instance, that you view everything as a potential threat. And I don't do this. I, there are people who do this. But just even as a Black person, you know, when you are surrounded by so much as a Black woman, misogyny, racism, it can harden you in a way that you look at everything with distrust. And I think my mother - she passed away when I was 16 - but the life that she exposed me to and the mindset that she carried was to lead with love and to lead with humanity. And she was one of the rare ones of the community at the time who was building bridges with non-Eritreans. There was, there was a really strong group of Eritreans at the time in the 70s and 80s, and a core part of that group was building bridges with others. And I remember a handful of Eritreans who did this, who went out of their way to build solidarity against the anti-Apartheid movement, Free Tibet, protecting the narratives around the Holocaust, Civil Rights era. I mean, I was in, I was one of the few in that space. And I think my mother's insistence that we are all connected. That we are all connected, not just in the struggle, but in the recognition of each other, really framed how I should approach others in this world. And as an Eritrean, I remind myself just how strong we are. Like, we're not beholden to other people. And at the same time, if you know that, then you should be able to lead with love, and you should be able to show people the way and not feel small or threatened, or that your existence is, is threatened by others. Yeah. I mean, my mom was very, very intentional. I learned later in life that she became well, she became a born again Christian and towards the later years of her life. But prior to that, she was meditating. She was reading Buddhism. I saw her library with world religions, and I think I took up the same approach.
Darren Isom:
Yea and so shout out to your mom. It's when you think back and reflect on how people's - or your understanding of people - really shaped the world that you live in, it's really powerful to think through and to honor. Just one final question before I move on to a different line of questioning, if you will. But Eritrea's fight for independence shows how powerful borders can be in establishing and protecting both identity and sovereignty. In your worldview - it's a bold question so feel free to give me what you (Bring it, bring it Darren) What is the purpose of borders, and how might we reimagine them as points of connection, rather than dividers within the diaspora? How do we rethink borders and their role?
Semhar Araia:
I mean, honestly, I understand the argument that borders were defined by the colonial powers and that we should do away with them, and that this was dividing our people. And I think to a certain extent, that's very true in many parts of the world, in Eritrea's case, and the reason I am I am pro-borders for the recognition of our sovereignty, but I also believe that borders should also allow invitations of movement in between, so a border isn't a closed wall. A border is recognition. And for countries and people like mine, you know, we fought really hard to exist, and borders should only present themselves as invitations of of how we can engage with each other. I do think often about this border question because I worked on the peace process with air to Ethiopia and the border demarcation and delineation, Ethiopia never respected it. Like politically, I can say, like factually, we can see it took 20 years for Ethiopia to agree to implement the border and that's for their own political reasons, but for Eritreans, it meant the world that we had recognition that the border decision was handed down. You know, we fought for our struggle for independence, and we had a border decision. And so as Africans and as Black people, it's important to remember that some of these borders are telling a story that we want to hold on to. And then that's our case for Eritrea. At the same time, some of these borders barely exist, around... like, like, when I look at conflict and study development on the continent, like, if you look at the Horn of Africa, the borders are so porous. Like, between Ethiopia and Somalia, there's, there's actually an administrative border. It's not a real border. So, yeah, borders can be pretty meaningless for many parts of the world. The point is, how are we engaging with each other and offering invitations for exchange, offering invitations for people to move between borders, to do trade between borders, like the fact that it is so difficult to travel within Africa, obtaining visas. But you know what that is? That is all logistics and the supply chain that is all about operational, you know what I mean? And it isn't, yes, it is ego. It is maybe people's refusal, government's refusal to implement. But at the end of the day, everything is about just setting up the operational framework. Yeah. So I think that we are borderless in the sense of, especially as diasporas, were borderless in the sense of being able to see each other like I should be able to sit with a Haitian. I should be able to sit with a Palestinian. I should be able to sit with Filipino and feel not only welcome, but seen and understood. But then I also understand that their country has gone through massive struggles to exist. And you know, it's funny, I just picked Haiti and Philippines as examples of struggle, but they've struggled to be recognized and be seen. And that, that begins with borders. Like, as a lawyer, one of the first things we learned in international law studies is that you have four requirements to be recognized as a state, and it's territorial jurisdiction, you know, it's a population, it's the ability to govern, it's, um fit's, it's that recognition that you are functioning. So I want, I want, especially from a diaspora perspective, to diaspora listeners, to recognize our privilege of being able to have this conversation and be able to pontificate and theorize around borders. But what we can do is imagine, and we can, we can Dream in Color around what it means to live in a borderless world while still in respecting the inherent integrity and rights of people who want to exist in the way that they want to exist.
Darren Isom:
Wonderful. Let's jump in and talk a little bit more about your current work, the Dawn Network. So you founded the diaspora Well, the Diaspora Academy, yes, yes, Diaspora African Women's Network, and, more recently, the Diaspora Academy, with a deep desire to amplify diaspora voices in leadership. There was a pivotal personal experience, or was there I should ask, a pivotal personal experience, a turning point that made you realize this was the work you were called to do.
Semhar Araia:
I think when I started Dawn, it was the result of living in Eritrea for almost three years, coming back to work on US foreign policy, and seeing how many Black women there were behind the scenes in Congress and in US government, working on Africa, who we didn't even know each other. And I had, I just kept meeting the most incredible Black women.I was like, "Hey, girl, how you doing? Let's meet. Let's do this. Let's talk". And then, and then I realized that they, many of them, identified as being a part of an African diaspora, whether it's first gen, first generation, second generation or multigen. And I was like, "Why don't we meet? Why don't we meet?" So a lot of this was really spurred by the disbelief that we were all here behind the scenes and no one knew each other, and also the rage at "Who is working on Africa and being able and who's being made visible of working on Africa". And so the rage being, "They're not African and they're not women." And so but, but again, because I lead with love and joy, like Dawn was a space for us as women, as powerful, smart, brilliant, African Affairs-focused professionals to not only connect and convene, but to work together on specific policy outcomes, to diversify the workforce. I didn't know all these things when I started it, but it was really like, "How is it that we're all here, working for the most powerful spaces, and we don't know each other?" And, you know, community starts with that.
Darren Isom:
Hmhm, very much. And I think that there's something powerful, and we've seen it in the work, and I've written quite a bit about it, one you name a segmentation of folks that are leading the work. And think about the work, and then you realize as well that you know that group, they bring not only a unique set of experiences, but also approaches to the work and to leadership. I would love for you to just share like, what are some lessons that the social sector at large can take away from the community of women and their experiences and how they lead in the work. How is it different? How's it better?
Semhar Araia:
Well, you know, it's similar to what we always say about civil society when you the need to listen to local civil society around solutions. I find that women in positions of leadership or influence are much more considerate of many different priorities and perspectives, and that same thing we talk about in development of women in the community. If you give them money for a microfinance loan, 99% of it is paid back. It is similar in the decision making process and in the halls of power that we are able to I see the need to draw consensus, but also deliver on what we promised and deliver on what we said, because we understand that millions of people's of lives depend on this. I also found that in the in the dawn space, and it ran for 10 years, there was such a deep and abiding love and respect for each other as colleagues and as sisters, as Black people, but and it wasn't. It was a subconscious sort of recognition, because what it did was it nourished us for how depleted you feel in the workplace as a Black African um Muslim - in many cases, we also had just the broadest range of diverse members - women. Reconvening was not only good for our soul, it was good for our performance on the job. It was good for shaping outcomes in the workplace, and ultimately, it also led to employers wanting to reach out to Dawn because they saw, how can we usher in this talent into our space? I didn't mean to build like a pipeline employment pipeline network, but it turned into that, and I think by making ourselves visible for who we are and what we contribute to the professional space. It left such a imprint on, particularly the Africa policy world, that I do want it back again. I do want to see another iteration of it. Because once you've been made visible, it's like, how do we continue the space? And of course, we had the challenges that so many nonprofits, particularly that serve black and underrepresented communities, faces. We didn't have any options for funding at that time. Diaspora wasn't even a concept that funding spaces understood and as a nonprofit founder, because I built Dawn as a nonprofit, I found myself educating the philanthropic space happily, joyfully, but it didn't result in any like significant support from a funding perspective. And I had to make a really tough decision of what the future of Dawn needed to look like. I later realized that, you know, we see organizations like chief that are now up and running with funding and investment, and that was a business model that I didn't even realize we could have done. You know, so learning about like, how we show up in this world as as black and brown and underrepresented people, and what, what happens when you're a nonprofit versus a business versus, you know, these, these things around operations shouldn't matter as much. But we often, we talk a lot about marketing and branding and how you show yourself to the world, but a lot of it is how you set this up, how you set this up. So I ended up really burning the candle on both ends. And, you know, at the age of 38 feeling really alone as much as I had space that I had built for so many, you know, 1000s of diaspora women, I still found myself living in a very solitary, but at times lonely experience, and that that forced me to ask a lot of questions around the power of the network and how we can continue building it. So I had to pivot. I had to pause dawn, and I have this future vision of what it, what it will be and what it what I'm waiting to do, but the lessons from the first iteration are that we're powerful beyond measure, and we're just waiting to reconnect with each other.
Darren Isom:
Yes, well, I mean, that's a perfect pivot from a conversation perspective, for us to close out our conversation and looking ahead. And so I'd love to hear about a time when you witness the power of diasporic unity. So have you ever had a moment when you looked around and thought, Yes, this is what we're capable of when we come together.
Semhar Araia:
Yes, and let me, let me answer your question in two ways. Darren, I do need to recognize that The Diaspora Academy is my, my job now. So Dawn is the past. So I'm going to try and answer your question with a shout out to TDA. Can you reframe? Can you ask me a question again?
Darren Isom:
Of course. And so I'd love to hear about a time when you witness the power of the diaspora, of diasporic unity. Have you ever had a moment when you looked around and thought, Yes, this is what we're capable of when we come together?
Semhar Araia:
Yeah. I mean, the most exciting part about my life now is because I work with all diasporas. The diaspora academies is a space for diasporas to focus on their skills and how they want to leverage their time, talent and treasure. And I've had these moments where my clients or my registrants for the workshops, literally every country in the world I have, I've had workshops with maybe up to 30 different African, African, Asian, European, Caribbean and Latino attendees. So watching a training or a conversation go across cultures, seeing Pedro sit with Marie from Haiti, who's an immigrant. Pedro is a son of immigrants, and then sitting with Burhan, who just came here from Eritrea, all sitting at a table, exchanging notes and trying to share how they could apply themselves to the communities, or apply themselves in a leadership way. That's a powerful way. The other powerful way is when I see diasporas latch on to what I've been encouraging to think about. Latch on. They come back and they ask for support on ideas that, you know, I remember there was a festival I had a student named Rami. Rami, his wonderful Jordanian American colleague and friend, he had taken our diasporan leadership training years ago, came back to me and said, "We want to host a citywide festival that acknowledges and welcomes diasporas from all walks of life." And the festival, I think, was called the One Journey Festival. And it was just a beautiful evolution of his, of his thinking and of the messaging we have around diasporas. I think that there's a lot of solidarity in the diaspora space when we realize that we all come with the same intentions that is to live a safe, joyful, prosperous life in community, and that we aspire to be seen and validated and heard and for diasporas. Because there's levels on levels of migration, transformation and challenges, it can feel really lonely, and so when we can sort of sit up and see each other's shared journeys and shared experiences, it really shows you that this path that's ahead of you is possible. And that's what I like to showcase the most.
Darren Isom:
The path ahead of us is possible. I mean, I think that's a great way for us to wrap up the conversation with one final question, and really thinking about, what does it look like for the diaspora to truly thrive? And you know, as you think about the future of the African diaspora and Africa the continent itself, would love to get just your thoughts on kind of what are your boldest dreams for the future of the continent of the diaspora, and what role do you believe diasporic leadership will play in making that a reality.
Semhar Araia:
Yeah, I think my boldest dreams for African diasporas in particular is that we have, we have faced the traumas that we inherited, face the traumas that we are experiencing, and let go of them so that we can live in joy and love with each other. I think that fear and trauma have really held back a lot of diasporas globally, but for African diasporas, because we've been forced to live with trauma that is so generational, unpacking that as a process, and my hope and dream is that as Africans, we're not afraid of ourselves and we're not afraid of each other's power. And that we don't let the white supremacy space define us. And I know that's a that's a daily existence for us to navigate. But when we see each other, we should immediately know that there's solidarity and that there's respect for each other, and that requires that you trust yourself, and that you trust that your brother or sister is coming from a place of love.
Darren Isom:
And so we start with the place of love, and we end with the place of love, and it's the one point in the conversation. Semhar, this has been absolutely beautiful. Thank you for your time, your thinking, and shout out to all the great work you're doing and can you tell us a little bit more about your podcast?
Semhar Araia:
Well, listen, my podcast is the most fun place I love to go to. It's called that Second Gen Life with Semhar and it's really zeroing in on the experience of second generation, those that are children of immigrants, that are in between, that are navigating the middle. And really helping them see that their experience matters as well, so that they can see that how they're the bridge connectors between the immigrants and the multi-generational experiences. And how they have a space in the middle to create, to imagine, to dream bigger than anyone else. Because that is the struggle that people went through so that you can do that. So the Second Gen Life, it's wherever you listen to podcasts, and I just love being on there to have conversations with people.
Darren Isom:
It's absolutely beautiful and it's fun. So thank you so much for that. Thank you. You okay. Thanks for chatting. Look forward to seeing you soon.
Semhar Araia:
Thanks, Darren. can't wait to see you, too. Bye, bye.
Darren Isom:
This August will mark 31 years since I left New Orleans to head to DC and Howard for college. Only 17 years old, but still fiercely independent, I insisted that I did not need a full family escort to campus, just a ride to the airport to make my flight. As my tear-eyed mother hugged me at the gate, she reminded me, “no matter how far you go or how much wrong you do, you're always welcome home.” And while New Orleans will always remain home – “capital H”--since that day, I've only returned for visits, some more extended than others, but never to live. DC, Paris, Brussels and New York—I was lucky to have called many places “homebase” before landing in California, my new home some 18 years ago, slightly longer than I ever lived in New Orleans. When asked, I share jokingly that I'm a seventh-generation New Orleans native who “expatriated” to Northern California. Where are you from, was such a straightforward and easily answered question for me, place and lineage being so closely tied. "Uptown New Orleans, Carrollton", I'd share confidently.
My family had escaped to the then green University suburb of Carrollton, a full train ride up the river from the more densely populated Treme neighborhood during the height of the yellow fever epidemic of the 1820s. Before Treme, we'd been between the neighborhood of Marigny and the various old river towns, Edgard and Vacherie, where we'd arrived as free people of color fleeing war-torn Haiti, or Saint Domingue, as it was called then, when we left its shores in 1791. And before Haiti? Well, Africa, obviously. West Africa, for sure, but less sure the specific country. But the specific country was less importance--what it's called now, was definitely not what it was called then and what could be more inaccurate than using 21st Century nomenclature to name 17th Century ancestry? And so, on my first trip to West Africa, back in 2005 being “welcome home” by my local host at every stop—Senegal, Ghana, Mali, Cote d'Ivoire—while warm and well-intended, felt insincere to my young years not ready to truly receive it. Surely my ancestors were from Africa, but home was New Orleans, there in the brightly-painted homes of the beautiful Black neighborhoods sandwiched between Audubon Park, Carrollton and St Charles Avenues and the bending Mississippi River.
On this trip, as we made our way across the continent, I was greeted once again with a "welcome home" at every stop, from South Africa to Tunisia. But it felt different, very different. It brought me a sense of comfort and belonging. There's a beautiful NK Jemisin quote from her novel The Fifth Season. It reads, “Home is what you take with you, not what you leave behind.” This time, people's "welcome home" felt more like they were seeing something of themselves in me, a recognition of a shared past, for sure, but more importantly, a recognition of a shared reality, a shared destiny, as members of a beautiful diaspora. And so, as we start our journey through Africa with a conversation with Semhar in her home in DC, I'm reminded of “the golden star” that her mother conjured in first naming her. I hope that star guides you through this season's beautiful series of conversations and that you find in them some sense of home.
Once again, we put some music with the magic, collecting the theme songs from our season’s guests and collaborators to create a Spotify playlist for our listeners to enjoy. Find it on Spotify under Dreaming in Color - The Continent. Thanks for listening to Dreaming in Color. A special shoutout to all the folks who make the magic happen. From Africa Insight Communications, our wonderful producers, Mudzithe Phiri and Tom Kirkwood, Production Coordinator, Goddec Orimba, audio-visual editor, Omamo Gikho, graphic designer, Ernest Chikuni and the amazing production crews on the ground in each country. A huge shoutout to my Bridgespan production colleagues, Cora Daniels, my ever-brilliant partner in good trouble, Elisabeth Makumbi, my Joburg-based season co-host, and of course, our fabulous creative director, Ami Diané. What a squad y'all! Be sure to rate, subscribe and review wherever you listen to podcasts. Catch you next time.
