After years of struggle, the Dominican community is becoming a pivotal player in New York City politics. I'd like to help, but we already have too many immigrants," a liberal Queens Assemblyman told me back in 1987 when, as director of the New York State Assembly Task Force on Immigration, I was lobbying for legislation that would ease the plight of noncitizen New Yorkers. "And why are you dealing with these Dominicans anyway? You're Puerto Rican, and Dominicans don't vote." This was but one of the negative responses I received in meetings with over 30 members of the state assembly urging them to endorse a bill which sought to address the needs of New York's Dominicans, the largest immigrant group in the state and its fastest-growing ethnic minority. Political doors were slammed-or closed ever so gently--on our lobbying efforts on behalf of a community without clout. But ten years after our unsuccessful lobbying efforts, Dominican politicians in New York are winning posi- tions from which they can effectively make themselves heard. In 1991, Guillermo Linares became the first Howard Jordan is an attorney and a Charles Revson Fellow at Columbia University He also teaches public administration at Hostos Community College. Dominicans in New York: Getting a Slice of the Apple A Dominican girl dances at the Dominican Day Parade in New York City Dominican to be elected to the New York City Council. Another Dominican, Adriano Espaillat, became the first Dominican to serve in the state Assembly after upsetting a 16- year incumbent in an upper-Manhattan race last November. By any yardstick, the Dominican community now has the numbers that can make it a pivotal player in New York City politics. According to the 1990 census, the city's Dominican population numbered 332,713, having grown 165% between 1980 and 1990. If one counts the large number of undocumented Dominicans, the population is well above a half million. The Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) reports that 226,853 Dominicans arrived in the United States as permanent residents from 1982 through 1989, and in New York City, Dominicans outnumbered all other immigrants who pursued citizenship during that same period. Sixty- nine percent of the U.S. Dominican population now lives in New York State, followed by 10% in New VOL XXX, No 5 MARCH/APRIL 1997 37 VOL XXX, NO 5 MARCH/APRIL 1997 37REPORT ON THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC Jersey and 7% in Florida. 1 Studies project that Dominicans will be the largest Latino group in the Northeast by the year 2010.2 Economic clout does not lag far behind. Twenty-thou- sand New York businesses are owned by Dominicans, including 70% of all small Latino grocery stores-New York's bodegas, which generate sales of $1.8 billion per year-and 90% of nonmedallion cabs, another multi- million dollar industry. Among the many small businesses of Wash- ington Heights-the upper Manhattan neigh- borhood that has become New York's principal Dominican enclave-are the many remesadoras (money- transfer offices) that have helped transform New York into a finan- cial center for Domi- nicans. It is through the remesadoras that New York Dominicans wire Guillermo Linares, New York City C millions of dollars in the Dominican community in Wash remittances to relatives in the Republic every year. Building on the community's sizable remittance flows, Dominicans Alejandro Grull6n and Geovanny Septilveda brought together a group of Dominican mil- lionaires in 1985 to form a commercial bank called the Dominican Bank. While the bank went under in 1990, the very idea that New York Dominicans could launch such an enterprise is testimony to the increasing eco- nomic significance of the community. Add to this the individual fortunes of clothing designer Oscar de la Renta and the growing number of millionaire baseball stars, and U.S. Dominicans become a community of considerable economic power. Dominican participation in the U.S. political process is a product of the historical experience of Dominicans both in the United States and the Dominican Republic. In the 1960s, a number of autonomous, voluntary ethnic associations were estab- lished in the Dominican neighborhoods of New York City. While these ethnic associations did not run candi- dates, they frequently helped local Democratic candi- dates through leafletting and voter mobilization. 3 The New York-Dominican political leadership in this period fell into two categories: a small group linked through personal ties to Dominican dictator Rafael Leonidas Trujillo, and a larger group militantly opposed to his regime. Paradoxically, after the 1965 U.S. inva- io in sion of the island blocked the establishment of a center- left regime, many Dominican leftists came to New York as political exiles. As a result, the ethnic associations began to take on a new character, as the political exiles played an important role in organizing the community at the grassroots. By the early 1970s, the associations had a more var- ied membership than those created by old elites. There were businessmen who knew how to get fund- ing from city agencies, as well as younger U.S.- educated Dominicans who became active in New York City politics. Many ethnic associa- tions continued to focus on Dominican issues, particularly the repres- sion of political dissent in the Republic, but many entertained an amicable relationship with the local Demo- uncil member greets members of cratic political estab- gton Heights. lishment. For example, Alfredo White founded El Centro Educacional del Caribe (CEDUCA), one of the first educational centers in Washington Heights. White pursued close connec- tions with Democratic elected officials, invited them to join his board, and created organizations to rally the Dominican community to vote for Democratic candi- dates. During the 1980s a group of U.S.-educated Dominicans organized the Dominican Day Parade Committee following the model of the Puerto Rican Day Parade. Though the parade itself had been founded years earlier, the parade committee served to consolidate and provide a base for New York's Dominican ethnic associations. The first parade, on August 9, 1982, attracted 40,000 people, and the second drew nearly 100,000 to parade routes near Dominican neighbor- hoods in upper Manhattan. In 1985, the parade moved downtown and was officially recognized by Mayor Ed Koch and Governor Mario Cuomo, who, in separate press conferences, took the opportunity to declare August 9 Dominican Day in New York. 1983 marked a watershed for New York Dominican political participation, as the ethnic associations orga- nized to gain representation in the city's anti-poverty bureaucracy, including the Community Development Agency (CDA) and its locally elected advisory groups, called Area Policy Boards (APBs). Dominicans came to play a pivotal role in the APBs, which assisted and ad- NACIA REPORT ON THE AMERICAS C C C 0 38REPORT ON THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC vised the CDA in the distribution of $32 million a year in anti-poverty funds. The Policy Boards, which were established in those districts with a certain proportion of poor neighborhoods, received and evaluated proposals from local non-profit organizations and made recom- mendations for funding to the CDA. Each APB had 21 members. Twelve were chosen by elections which allowed for noncitizen voting, seven were appointed by elected officials, and two were private-sector represen- tatives. Until 1983, no Dominicans were on an APB, and only one Dominican organization had ever received funds from the CDA. In September, 1983, ten Dominican eth- nic-association leaders formed a Dominican Electoral Front and officially announced their participation in the elections for representation on Board No. 12, the APB that represented the Dominican neighborhoods of upper Manhattan. After a whirlwind of political activity, voter turnout doubled compared with the previous election, and six of the ten Front candidates were elected to the local board. Though the APBs were eliminated later in the 1980s, they proved to be a key first step in Dominican electoral empowerment. "Under the Area Policy Board, you didn't have to be a cit- izen, and the structure controlled [the flow of] economic resources to our com- munity," said Apolinar Trinidad, a for- Som mer CDA official who was later whe appointed as APB representative by a Puerto Rican state senator. "We won, and Domi for the first time fear set in as the local politicians heard the coming political politiCi footsteps." 4 As a result of the Front's helping mobilization, seven of the 21 representa- tives on Board No. 12 were Dominican the corr -six elected and one appointed. This resulted in significant increases in fund- or m ing for Dominican groups in Washington accom( Heights. The 1980s also witnessed a significant themselv increase in Dominican participation in poli local school board politics. The boards, a legacy of the decentralization reforms of establ is the late 1960s, are democratically elected and also allow for the voting of noncitizens. They run public schools from kindergarten through junior high school for nearly one million school children. Four Dominican organiza- tions, the Community Association of Progressive Dominicans (CAPD), the Northern Manhattan Coalition for Immigrant Rights (NMCIR), Alianza Dominicana and Latinos United for Political Action (LUPA), identi- fied control of education as a key component of empow- erment and linked themselves to the struggle of Latino VOL XXX, No 5 MARCH/APRIL 1997 parents to address school overcrowding and substandard education. This movement led to the election of several Dominican activists like Guillermo Linares (now city councilman) and Apolinar Trinidad to School Board No. 6, in the Washington Heights area. The momentum from the APB and school board vic- tories provided the impetus for Dominican activists to launch a campaign for a Democratic district leader posi- tion in 1985. Democratic Party "district leaders," who are elected--one male and one female-in every state- assembly district of New York City, have become important fixtures in city politics. They are charged with overseeing all party financial and political business in a given assembly district, including the selection of poll watchers in local voting sites. Their most important function is to vote for the Democratic county chairman of each of the city's five boroughs. In Manhattan, home of the largest Dominican enclave, the election of Dominican district leaders would give the community a voice in the selection of the Manhattan Democratic chairman, who, in turn, would play a key role in deter- mining the Party's support for assembly, senatorial and judicial candidates. e ask ther nican ans are empower munity, erely )dating es to the tical ;hment. For more than a decade, the female dis- trict leadership of upper Manhattan's 71st Assembly District was held by a Dominican woman, Maria Luna, who, while a committed community advocate, was continually re-elected due to the sup- port of the local political machine. In 1985, a grassroots movement backed by the Dominican Electoral Front supported the candidacy of Julio Hernandez to become male party leader for that district. The idea was to back a candidate who would be accountable to the community itself, and not to the Democratic political machine. Hernandez won, and became the first non-machine Dominican district leader in New York. As the 1980s came to a close, Dominicans had come to play an impor- tant role in the politics of upper Manhattan. Two Democratic district lead- ers of Dominican descent had been elected. Six Dominicans had been elected to the Area Policy Board, two to the Community School Board, and four Dominicans had been appointed to the Community Planning Board. As the 1990s approached, optimism ran high in what came to be known as "Quisqueya Heights." The key moment of recognition for New York's Dominican community came in 1991 with the imple- mentation of a new City Charter, the redrawing of New 39REPORT ON THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC York City's electoral maps and the creation of a Dominican-majority City Council district. The Northern Manhattan Committee for Fair Representation (NMCFR), a Dominican-led coalition, exerted enormous political pressure on the New York City Redistricting Commission to create a district that could be won by a Dominican. Twenty Puerto Rican elected offi- cials who were looking to increase the number of Latino districts in the city added their considerable politi- cal muscle to these efforts. "Creating a Dominican district was the only way we could secure a Dominican presence on the city council," says Fernando Lescaille, a for the San Franciscc founder of NMCFR and President of painting of himself i the Dominican Public Policy Project. "With the help of our allies in the Puerto Rican community, we put the heat on the Redistricting Committee, and our efforts led to the election of the first Dominican councilman." 5 Throughout this period, the links and cross-fertilization with Puerto Rican leader- ship were crucial. The prior struggles of Puerto Rican activists in the areas of bilingual education, decentral- ization and anti-poverty programs created the infra- structure and political space that would enable Dominican empowerment efforts to succeed. Many Puerto Rican elected and appointed officials participated in these Dominican electoral movements, lending expertise and using their political power to work for the inclusion of Dominicans in the political process. These efforts led to the creation of a Washington Heights district, and that set the backdrop for the elec- tion of the first Dominican to the New York City Council. Four Dominicans ran for the office in 1991: Guillermo Linares, Maria Luna, Adriano Espaillat and Apolinar Trinidad. Linares garnered 30% of the vote, squeaking past the Democratic party regular, Maria Luna. With representation on the City Council, Dominicans were now able to make themselves felt as a force in citywide politics. Three of the city council can- didates of 1991, for example, played major roles in the 1993 mayoral election in which the majority of Dominicans supported Democratic Mayor David Dinkins over his Republican rival, Rudy Giuliani. Councilmember Linares and Adriano Espaillat were key members of Dominicans for Dinkins, while Apolinar Trinidad, who ran on the Conservative line in 1991, can- vassed Dominican neighborhoods for the eventual win- ner, Giuliani. re n A more recent expression of Dominican involvement in mayoral politics was the brouhaha over the plan of Mayor Giuliani and Police Commissioner Howard Safir to send New York City police to the Dominican Republic to interdict the Santo Domingo-New York drug traffic. The plan touched a raw nerve among Dominican elected officials, evoking memories of the U.S. military presence in 1965, and their opposition forced the Mayor and Commissioner to backpedal. The "plan amounts to two cops in the [U.S.] Embassy exchanging information with the Dominican police," Safir told the New York at Dominican pitcher Daily News after the controversy action. broke. 6 Eventually, the plan was simply tabled. W hile New York Dominicans make their mark at every level of the political process, several obstacles are still in the way of full political empowerment. For one, many Dominicans continue to view themselves as transient-living and working in the United States only until they can gather sufficient resources to return to the homeland. This limits the cre- ation of the necessary political infrastructure within New York that could impel Dominicans to the next step in their political ascendancy. But while leading Dominican political figures like President Leonel Fernindez-along with Joaquin Balaguer, Juan Bosch and Jos6 Francisco Pefia G6mez-all have New York branches to raise money and recruit support for their candidacies, many Dominicans, especially young people, have made the break. Younger New York-born Dominicans see the older generation's ties to homeland politics as nostalgic, and they view the future of the Dominican community as intimately linked to the empowering of Dominicans in the United States. This often creates tensions between those older generation organizers who focus their orga- nizing efforts around island politics and those who advocate active involvement in local metropolitan affairs. Dominican aspirations are also limited by high levels of noncitizenship. According to a recent study, Dominicans have low levels of voter eligibility, even though they have high voter turnout rates. 7 Dominicans made up only 11% of Latino registered voters in New York City in 1993, though they accounted for over 20% of the city's Latino population. In the Dominican elec- 4 0ALA REPORT ON THE AMERICAS 40REPORT ON THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC tion districts in 1993, only 31% of residents actually registered to vote. In the 1992 presidential elections, however, Dominicans had a relatively high turnout rate of 56% of registered voters. Another obstacle to full Dominican participation is the growing rate of poverty in the Dominican commu- nity. The income of the Dominican population is one of the lowest in New York City, and about 47% of Dominican children live in poverty. 8 The portrait of Dominicans as upwardly mobile, urban workers is highly deceptive. To the extent that very low levels of income inhibit political participation, such extensive poverty results in the alienation of Dominicans from the political process. Perhaps the greatest obstacle to Dominican empower- ment is a growing disunity among Dominican political elites, and their separation from the day-to-day concerns of the Dominican community. In this sense, Dominican elected officials may be going the way of their Puerto Rican and African-American counterparts. In 1995, for example, a proposal to build a $12 mil- lion Pathmark megastore on East Harlem's 125th Street by the Abyssinian Development Corporation, an African-American development group, led to charges of "betrayal" against Dominican Councilman Linares. Linares, together with nearly all Puerto Rican elected officials, had signed a letter asking Mayor Rudy Giuliani to halt the preferential eco- nomic treatment the city had given to the proposed Pathmark project through $7 million in tax abatements. The Pathmark Unlik plan made no provisions for the survival of local Latino grocery stores or smaller elders v neighborhood supermarkets, mostly on isla n owned by Dominicans. In this instance, the Puerto Rican political establishment you was marching hand in hand with local Dominican merchants to combat the dis- Dominic location of East Harlem Latino merchants. to pa rti In a last minute change of position, how- ever, Councilman Linares cast the decid- New Y ing vote in the city council, resulting in a 6-5 vote in favor of the proposed project. pol The Puerto Rican leadership in East Harlem-once the Puerto Rican mecca of New York City-felt the Abyssinian Development Corporation, as well as local African-American leaders, had ignored the con- cerns of the Latino community in pushing through this project. Many believe that Linares changed his vote in order to court the black political establishment. Others argue that the councilman had a genuine change of heart, but are at a loss to explain the last-minute charac- ter of his vote. In any case, he was lambasted by VOL XXX, No 5 MARCH/APRIL 1997 Dominicans and Puerto Ricans alike for harming the economic interests of the Dominican community and for derailing an incipient Dominican-Puerto Rican alliance. Conflicts have also arisen around the recent election of Adriano Espaillat as the first Dominican to the state Assembly. While his election was hailed by many Latinos as a "people's victory," the new assembly mem- ber now has some of his constituents worried. The Village Voice, in an article entitled "Hangin' With the Landlords," reported that campaign disclosure records show that the newly elected assemblyman received close to $23,750 in contributions from the Rent Stabilization Association (RSA), a group that advocates abolishing rent stabilization and control laws. In 1996, the RSA lav- ished $700,000 on candidates statewide. Espaillat acknowledges the contribution but vehemently denies cutting any deal with the pro-landlord lobby. "When I got the support from RSA," says Espaillat, "I made sure to tell them what my positions were. I'm not about to sup- port legislation against rent stabilization. The only thing I told RSA was that I would listen to their point of view. But they know very well that I am not supportive of their agenda." Supporters say Espaillat is simply taking a political hit from his enemies. But Rafael Sencion, an activist with the Congress for Dominican Rights, expressed his anger and frustration when the assembly- e their dho focus d politics, singer :ans want cipate in ork City itics. man cancelled an October meeting he had scheduled with community groups to explain his position on rent regulations. "Nothing comes with no strings attached," said Sencion. "You've got to be real naive to believe that." The specter of mounting disunity hangs heavily on the Dominican political move- ment. Some voices in the community ask whether the movement is pushing an empowerment process forward or is merely accomodating itself to the politi- cal establishment. Some community activists argue that the appearance of Dominican faces in high places has done little to brake the declining quality of life for the vast majority of New York's Dominicans. Representation, the critics remind us, is not power. Optimists, how- ever, argue that the election of Linares, Espailliat and others to positions of influ- ence in city and state government will present Dominicans with a springboard from which to influence public policy in New York and the United States. The stage is set for the 1997 mayoral and city council pri- mary elections. Already speculation has been fueled that Moises Perez, executive director of Alianza Dominicana, will challenge the re-election efforts of 41REPORT ON THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC Councilmember Linares due to the latter's perceived lack of response to Dominican needs. Assemblyman Adriano Espaillat is also reportedly considering endors- ing a candidate against Linares, his political nemesis. The Linares-Espaillat conflict reflects broader politi- cal tendencies in the Dominican community. Both Dominican elected officials won elections against so- called machine politicians, but some are uncomfortable with Linares because of his recent "accomodationist" postures. Many activists feel the councilmember has distanced himself from his Dominican base, and many argue that his real support base is the white liberal estab- lishment of Manhattan. He has been criticized as enjoy- ing broader suport in sectors outside the Dominican community than from within. Linares, a long-time activist in New York progressive politics, would doubt- less argue he has simply expanded his base. Espaillat has a firmer, more current rooting in the Dominican community. His pursuit of the backing of many moderate, right-wing Balaguerists, however, has raised the eyebrows of many of his supporters. Since he has never held a clearly identifiable ideological posi- tion, he will be closely watched as he defines his polit- ical persuasion in his first term. Until his election last November, Espaillat enjoyed little support from the Manhattan political establishment, though he had been well-received by the Bronx Puerto Rican establishment, including Borough President Fernando Ferrer and Democratic County chair Roberto Ramirez. His Manhattan base, however, may now be expanding. At his recent swearing in at a neighborhood public school, a virtual who's who of the Manhattan Democratic establishment was in attendance, including Congress- man Charles Rangel and Borough President Ruth Messinger. As the Dominican community grows in the coming years, it will help reshape the political establishment of New York. The legislators who showed me the door back in 1987 can no longer reject the elected Dominican officials who will soon knock at their doors, sit at the table, and negotiate their rightful piece of the budgetary and political pie. Dominicans in New York 1. "Dominican Political Empowerment," monograph, (New York: The Dominican Public Policy Project, 1992). 2. Unpublished study by the Tri-State Latino Commission, New York, 1988. 3. Prof. Eugenia Georges has characterized four types of political partici- pation among Dominican associations during this period: 1) activist associations which attempted to deal with specific social and economic issues confronting New York's Dominican population, including self- help groups, political parties and student associations, 2) recreational clubs, 3) occupational associations and 4) performing cultural groups. See Eugenia Georges, New Immigrants and the Political Process: Dominicans in New York (New York: Research Program in Inter- American Affairs, 1984). 4.Apolinar Trinidad, "Area Policy Boards and Dominican Politics," Latinos United for Political Action, August, 1983. 5. Fernando Lescaille, Dominican Political Empowerment (Santo Domingo: Dominican Public Policy Project, 1992). 6. '5afir Plan Irks Dominicans," New York Daily News, December 15, 1996, p. 13. 7. See Angelo Falcon and Christopher Hanson-Sanchez, Latino Immigrants and Electoral Participation (New York: Institute for Puerto Rican Policy, 1996). 8.Ramona Hernandez, Francisco Rivera-Batiz, & Roberto Agodini, Dominican New Yorkers: A Socio Economic Profile (New York: City University of New York, 1990).
