Portside

While New York City has always been a reliable win for the Democratic Party, comparisons between the 2020 and 2024 presidential election results reveal the striking influence of the Republican platform on historically blue neighborhoods. In closer breakdowns by borough, Queens stood out, taking 37.3% of the Republican vote in 2024 compared to 26.8% in 2020. 

Demographically, Queens has a “majority-minority” population of which nearly half are immigrants. Of all the boroughs in New York City, it also has the largest recent increase in older adult residents. These outcomes reflect both broader historical and recent national trends of increased conservatism among older voters. However, New York City’s progressive and grassroots organizations are seeking to challenge this trend through intergenerational organizing, focusing specifically on labor, housing, and community activism. Many of these efforts began at the start of the pandemic; at their foundation is an earnest commitment by organizers to build meaningful relationships and intentional strategies to make community engagement more accessible and relevant to the lives of their neighbors. 

Many politically left-leaning organizations focus their energies and resources on courting Gen Z and millennial stakeholders, rather than integrating an older voting base. Prism spoke to several groups in New York City about engaging older residents by providing tailored services, political education, and opportunities for reciprocal education between youth and elders, among other critical organizing efforts. 

Farihah Akhtar, the lead organizer at CAAAV: Organizing Asian Communities, pushes against the sentiment that elders—and elder immigrants in particular—are shifting to the right.

“People think these immigrants with backward ideas are voting for Trump, but actually everything that’s put out in the media, everything on social media, these institutions in our city are moving to the right,” Akhtar said. “The terrain has shifted to the right.” 

This new terrain under the Trump administration, which includes cuts to Medicaid and food assistance, as well as serious threats to Social Security, means that many elders will be left behind.

“We need more power”  

CAAAV consists of two primary organizing projects: one working with youth and elders in Manhattan’s Chinatown and another focused on working-class Bengalis in western Queens. Akhtar told Prism that organizing around issues related to housing has proven to be a powerful pathway to engage entire families, with grandparents, in-laws, parents, and children often participating in the same meetings. The goal of this intergenerational organizing is for communities to arrive at a deep investment in solidarity and class alignment. 

“We love community as a beautiful thing,” Akhtar said. “But we have clarity that we need more power. We’re trying to win material changes in our society and increase power and decision-making.”

Akhtar underscored the importance of reciprocity and education in building an age-inclusive, culturally inclusive space. This is why CAAAV’s organizing combines theory with practice, emphasizing political education around capitalism to help workers of all ages understand how class shapes their lives. Akhtar told Prism that when discussing strategy, the organization’s older resident organizers often reference history and tactics used by unions they were a part of in their home countries. Meanwhile, youth who are more comfortable strategizing in English tend to thrive in smaller breakout groups and often discuss their experience growing up in multiracial spaces. This dynamic has shaped anti-racist practices within the organization, while also allowing youth to share their experiences with elders who hold real pain regarding their treatment as immigrants in the U.S.

The unique needs of the organization’s member-leaders shape many of CAAAV’s structural investments. The organization provides child care, interpreters, and meals at meetings, and organizers consider the timing, place, and local conditions to maximize attendance.

CAAAV underscored the importance of direct engagement and empowerment of member leadership. The organization hosts an annual training under the banner of CAAAV Leadership Assembly to Win (CLAW), which brings together member leaders who participated in campaigns throughout the year. CLAW also goes a long way in bridging the experiences of its working-class Chinese and Bengali members, which helps build solidarity between the groups. 

One of CAAAV’s most useful exercises to overcome linguistic and cultural differences is its spectrogram activity, in which participants physically place themselves on a spectrum of “strongly disagree” to “strongly agree.” With a visual representation of where people stand, leaders and participants discuss their stances, creating a powerful outlet for political conversations. 

Meeting material needs  

Each of the organizations Prism spoke to acknowledged the importance of resource provisions around language access, child care, and meals to reduce barriers to entry by making community engagement more convenient and appealing. But not every organization has the resources to achieve goals around accessibility, especially groups that are entirely volunteer-run. Volunteers and funding dollars are drying up across mutual aid communities, making matters more difficult for these groups and limiting capacity even further. 

Across the U.S., conditions that were already dire for low-income communities worsened during the pandemic, which led to the creation and mobilization of new mutual aid groups that continue to operate today. This includes western Queens’ Sunnyside and Woodside Mutual Aid (SWMA), which has performed weekly food distributions since it was founded by a group of neighbors in 2020. 

The group’s core logistical organizers are mostly English-speaking adults in their 20s and 30s, though their client base and most consistent volunteers are mostly older immigrants who exclusively speak languages such as Mandarin, Bangla, Arabic, and Spanish. An older Egyptian woman known only as “Susie” is the person that everyone in the food distribution line looks to for guidance, according to SWMA organizer Jordan Greene. Over time, more clients have become volunteers. Some hand out food, while others unload delivery vehicles or help pack up after distributions. 

Greene told Prism that the group’s biggest challenge is language, posing a significant obstacle to meaningful connection. 

More recently, SWMA has welcomed new recruits with diverse language abilities. Organizers suspect that President Donald Trump’s inauguration sparked more interest in the mutual aid group’s efforts. Greene said new volunteers were desperately needed but that the group also wants to make sure they’re not overburdening recruits. 

“We’re a little more in a bubble than I’d like to be,” Greene said. “We’re wanting to collaborate with folks more … but just making this happen every week can be a lot.” 

Still, SWMA has found a way to navigate these challenges and many others with grace and agility. EJ Mara, another SWMA organizer, recalled when the group’s largest food delivery failed to make it to the distribution site. A Spanish-speaking client turned volunteer, Alejandro, communicated this information to others in the food distribution line. The information worked its way through the crowd as Bangla, Spanish, Mandarin, and Korean-speaking clients conveyed the information to others. It started with Alejandro, who helped communicate the disappointing news that there would be less food to share that week. Because of the embedded sense of trust and camaraderie nurtured over time, the distribution ended up going smoothly. 

Among the organizations Prism spoke to, a primary focus was meeting the material needs of elders, and as SWMA has learned, nothing is more material than food. 

Nationwide, older adults are at higher risk of food insecurity, especially if they are disabled, do not own their home, and are not married, according to the National Council on Aging. In New York, a state where nearly 12% of older adults report experiencing food insecurity, food distribution is a core means for organizations to connect with elderly residents. 

Prior to 2020, Woodbine, a volunteer-run experimental culture hub based in Ridgewood, Queens, did not have a formalized food distribution program. 

“At first, we thought it was responding to the pandemic as a biological phenomenon. … And now it feels more obvious that there was always a lot of food insecurity in the neighborhood anyway, even without the pandemic,” said Woodbine organizer Matt Peterson.

The organization’s food pantry remains active today, and, according to Peterson, it’s the primary way that Woodbine connects to elderly, immigrant neighbors in the surrounding blocks. 

“The hope is that people get interested in the other kinds of programming. They come for one thing, then get curious about the other things,” Peterson said. “We’d imagined ourselves as a political or cultural hub, but that meant a more narrow population of people in their 20s and to early 40s. Whereas now it has shifted into being more of a neighborhood, community-based thing.” 

Woodbine events, projects, and programming are organized by a collective of smaller working groups, which facilitate the group’s hackerspace, seed library, sports leagues, art classes, and other offerings. Sometimes these working groups fizzle out due to lack of engagement, Peterson said, but a constant feedback loop and adaptability of their grassroots operational structure allows Woodbine to adjust to changing community needs.

Woodbine just signed a 10-year lease extension for its physical space. One of the organizers’ main goals moving forward is to further develop their programming that currently serves two primary audiences: locals within walking distance, and broader New York City metropolitan residents who are drawn to their film screening series, lectures, poetry readings, and more.

After seeing the popularity of its first kids’ arts and craft event and the success in attracting more parents and grandparents, the center worked to establish more consistent family-friendly offerings. 

“Social service and social change”

New York City has a long history of locals serving their neighbors. In 1886, a New Yorker created the nation’s first “settlement house” as part of a reformist movement to help urban immigrants access vital social services. Though the political landscape has shifted since the Progressive Era, the 37 settlement houses that still exist today have evolved their approach to better fit 21st century values and needs. This includes Queens Community House (QCH), focused on empowering locals. 

“Our model is one that marries social service and social change work,” said Anna Dioguardi Moyani, QCH’s director of community building. QCH caters to a multigenerational population through services ranging from youth tutoring and eviction prevention to medical transport and adult day programs.

During the height of the pandemic, QCH saw firsthand how the needs of community members varied by age and how sometimes those needs were in opposition, depending on age differences. Older adults in the community didn’t want to risk being around children, for example, while others were distrustful of vaccination requirements and masking obligations. Dioguardi Moyani said that navigating the challenges required understanding where elders were coming from.   

“For intergenerational organizing, we need to acknowledge that people have had very different life experiences and they’re bringing all of that with them to any conversation, listening session, or discussion they’re having,” Dioguardi Moyani told Prism. 

To reduce risk and maintain the ability to organize and connect with one another, QCH shifted its events outdoors in partnership with the Department of Transportation’s Open Streets program. First launched during the pandemic, the initiative was codified in the spring of 2024 to “transform busy city streets into open public spaces.” 

But not everyone was on board.  

Contention arose between parents of young children who valued the Open Streets and older constituents who valued the presence of open lanes for car traffic. Before long, some older community members refused to attend QCH events as an informal boycott of the policy.

Dioguardi Moyani acknowledged that working in community has its challenges, so the work must be done with the ability to compromise. QCH decided to move events outside a school adjacent to the Open Streets avenue, which helped encourage seniors to attend. Later, community potlucks and other events brought people of all ages and from all walks of life together for informal and formal relationship building. Over time and with continuous exposure, many seniors came to see the benefit of the Open Streets program and eventually supported the initiative. 

QCH offers a tailored approach to programming, including technology classes geared toward senior students that often become entry points into the larger umbrella organization. QCH’s “E-Basics Weekend” classes connect young adult volunteers to elderly neighbors for tech support. The classes were scheduled to be mindful of volunteers’ workdays and senior citizens’ preference for early evening programming. 

When groups within QCH collaborate, it shows the real beauty and challenges of multigenerational organizing. For example, two of the organization’s LGBTQIA+ groups, Queens Center of Gay Seniors and Generation Q, decided to co-organize the annual Pride Parade in Jackson Heights. Diguardi Moyani said that initially there were misunderstandings and disagreements concerning issues like gender identity and the use of gender-inclusive language. The two groups also didn’t seem to share political priorities.  

But through open communication, transparency, and sometimes difficult discussions, there was reciprocal education between young and old. 

“Over time, as they do more exchanges and programming together, there’s been a lot of cross-education,” Diguardi Moyani said. “Older adults schooling younger people about their experiences of fighting for LGBTQ rights on the forefront of those movements in the ’70s and ’80s, talking about AIDS and what it was like to live through that. On the other side, younger people who are schooling older adults about the movement to expand the language, education around pronouns and different identities emerging, the evolution of LGBTQ [identities], and their experiences in the current world.” 

Not fully aligned 

In New York City and across the U.S., conditions are worsening, especially for elders. The city’s embattled Mayor Eric Adams, a “MAGA Democrat” aiding the Trump administration’s war on immigrants and the working poor, shows “the blatant alliance of the capitalist class against the interests of the working people and the oppressed,” Left Voice reported. 

As NYC’s unpredictable mayoral race heats up, housing has been a primary concern for voters, and many are hoping for a rent freeze. Rents in New York City have risen 5.6% as rates in other major cities decrease. 

Akhtar of CAAAV told Prism that it’s also worth noting the increasing influence of real estate developers in reshaping NYC neighborhoods. 

“We see the real estate industry as a right-wing force,” Akhtar said. “Corporate America is very much in lockstep with parts of the right wing.”

Trump, of course, first gained national prominence as a real estate developer in New York City, where the Trump Organization’s real estate entities were known for housing discrimination and harassment. By making these kinds of connections clear and through intergenerational organizing and exposure to diverse perspectives, organizations like CAAAV are shifting the stances of some of their members. This includes some elder immigrants who voted for Trump in the past. 

“We successfully contested for them, and they haven’t been consolidated into the right,” Akhtar said. She notes that some members have even expressed regret over voting for Trump. Akhtar told Prism that frank conversations rooted in trust can go a long way to counter media literacy issues common among older voters and the misinformation that targets them, especially on platforms like WeChat, WhatsApp, and Facebook.

As a nonprofit organization, CAAV doesn’t focus on electoral politics, but its sister organization CAAV Voice does. Communications Director Irene Hsu told Prism that broadly, the organization remains a place where people can access information, strategize, and work through an analysis of power. 

“Our goal is to organize people who may not be fully aligned on every single thing,” Hsu said, “but who form really important blocs in our city.”

Annie Faye Cheng is based in Queens, New York City. Her work focuses on the intersection of race, food and power. Connect with her on Instagram at @achg.kitchen.

When Prism was established in 2019, it was because we knew that the status quo media landscape wasn’t reflecting enough of the truth—and it wasn’t bringing us closer to our vision of collective liberation and justice. We saw a different path forward, one that we could forge by disrupting and dismantling toxic narratives, uncovering the hard truths of injustice alongside the people experiencing the acute impacts of injustice, and providing a platform for people of color to tell their own stories, and those of their communities.