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From Refugee to Philanthropist How One Utah Teen Is Giving
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utah
From Refugee to Philanthropist
How One Utah Teen Is Giving Back
Ashis Dhakal has experienced poverty firsthand. And he has made it his life’s mission to make the world a better place for others in similar circumstances. BY KIERSTYNN KING
Some of Ashis Dhakal’s earliest memories are of living in a refugee camp in Jhapa, Nepal, where he was born. As part of the Lhotshampas minority, his parents were forced to flee ethnic cleansing in Bhutan in 1999. Unable to obtain citizenship in Nepal, they settled at the camp for several years.
“Our house was made from bamboo and hay. It was full of bedbugs,” Dhakal recalls. “We were surrounded by mosquitos and facing poverty. The conditions were very, very tough.”
From Dream to reality
Dhakal’s family dreamed of coming to America—specifically, Utah. They fell in love with a picture they had seen of Utah, and they had relatives living there. Finally, in 2009, after a two-year immigration journey through the International Organization for Migration, Dhakal, his three older sisters, his parents, and his grandparents, were able to immigrate to the Beehive State.
The family was elated to be on U.S. soil. But coming during an economic recession made building a new life in a new country even harder.
“Jobs were pretty hard to come by,” says Dhakal. “It definitely put a financial burden on my family. It was hard, but luckily, we were able to overcome that obstacle.”
Another obstacle was adapting to a new culture. “Culture shock was something I had to deal with quite a bit,” says Dhakal. He credits the Cub Scouts with helping him adjust to his new surroundings.
But being an ethnic minority in Utah also brought many challenges Dhakal. He was bullied in school and was sometimes called a terrorist. Still, he did his best to maintain a positive attitude. He recently graduated from East High School in Salt Lake City and is now attending the University of Utah, majoring in entrepreneurship. “I have big goals to own multimillion-dollar businesses and give away millions to those in need,” he says.
giving BaCk
Moving from a third-world country to a first-world country, Dhakal is sensitive to poverty and inequity. At the end of 2018, after meeting a homeless man while working at KFC and learning that clothing was one of the man’s greatest needs, Dhakal was inspired to create his charity organization, Ashis Collects Clothes. Dhakal also credits his Hindu faith as inspiration for his charity work. “We’re taught to give, to share happiness together, and to have a positive impact in the lives of those who are struggling,” he says. In 2019, Dhakal became more focused on his charity. “We’re taught to give, He did his first clothing drive, collecting coats, socks, hats, to share happiness beanies, and shoes. He then together, and to have a took a trip to Nepal, where positive impact in the he spent three months working for a nonprofit called lives of those who are Youthlinc. Youthlinc’s goal is to struggling.” help create lifelong humanitarians by providing students and mentors with local and international service experiences. During that time, Dhakal helped raised $5,000. “That $5,000 went toward the people in the village,” he explains. “We taught them skills, and most importantly, we taught them about the health sector, business sector, and water filters. We bought them sewing machines so they could learn how to sew bags, ties, and other items. We bought them water filters and health kits.” Dhakal also visited the refugee camp where he had lived as a child and was devastated to see the deteriorating conditions. “Growing up with an extremely poor background, and then going back and seeing that nothing had really changed and that people were suffering really affirmed my ‘why.’ I was in their shoes, and I know how it feels. I want to give back because I don’t want others to suffer in the same way,” he says.
making ConneCtionS
After launching Ashis Collects Clothes, Dhakal heard about the Utah Refugee Connection through others in his community. He reached out to the
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utah organization’s executive director, Amy Dott Harmer. The pair got to know one another, and Harmer learned that Dhakal was a high schooler trying to do well in school during the COVID-19 pandemic but was struggling because his computer was not working well.
“In the back of my mind, I thought, ‘I’m sure I could find him a computer,’ but I was worried about what he would do with it,” she says.
Harmer ended up giving Dhakal a computer and made him promise that he would only use it for good. Dhakal agreed.
“Two weeks later, he reached out and told me about his charity and how he was collecting clothes and items for the homeless,” says Harmer. “He told me to let him know if there was anything that we couldn’t take.” Every two weeks, Harmer would drop off items on Dhakal’s porch that the refugee share house couldn’t take.
in the Spotlight
In the fall of 2020, Comcast launched a commercial featuring Dhakal as part of their internet essentials program. The commercial talked about how Dhakal was changing the world from his bedroom and showed him unloading clothes for his charity and teaching English to children in Nepal on his computer. “Being able to educate and motivate them is a blessing. They want to learn, and that’s the best feeling,” he says.
As a result of the Comcast commercial, Dhakal was then featured on Today as part of the show’s “Tomorrow’s Voices” program, which pairs talented teens with inspiring mentors to help them achieve their goals. “You are leading with a passion that has been buried deep in your soul since you were a baby, and that is going to drive you until your last breath,” host Hoda Kotb told Dhakal during a Today segment in March.
Kotb then told Dhakal that he would have the opportunity to interview and speak to one of his heroes—entrepreneur, philanthropist, and Shark Tank star Mark Cuban. “Mark Cuban is going to put the guard rails up and help you out a little bit here and there, but you’re going the distance,” she said.
Dhakal says meeting Cuban was an awesome experience. “He’s really intelligent and extremely helpful. He gave me a lot of insights about entrepreneurship and being a philanthropist.”
the Challenge
In a March segment of Today, Cuban challenged Dhakal to collect items for a coat drive. “I’d like for you to collect 575 coats that we can then give away to people in need,” Cuban said.
At first, Dhakal really struggled to get donations, so he contacted Harmer to see if she was able to help.
“He reached out to me and asked if I could help. At first, it was like, ‘Oh my gosh, is he really going to be able to do this?” Harmer recalls. “On Monday, he only had 10 coats.”
Harmer decided to post about Dhakal’s coat drive on the Utah Refugee Connection Facebook page. She asked people to donate coats at Dhakal’s home.
“We have a rather large following on the Utah Refugee Connection page, so I was hoping that people would reach out. I had told him that I couldn’t guarantee people were going to rally, but I really hoped they did,” she says.
People did, in fact, rally. In less than five days, Dhakal ended up collecting 3,018 coats.
“It just went like wildfire,” says Harmer. “People really wanted to support Ashis’s effort of trying help the homeless and help him meet this goal given by Mark Cuban. His entire garage was filled with donated coats.”
When Dhakal met up with Cuban again, Dhakal reported that he had collected more than 3,000 coats. Cuban then told Dhakal that Today’s parent company, Comcast, was going to match Dhakal’s donation.
“You’re setting an example,” Cuban told him. “It’s not about connections. It’s not about who you know. It’s all about effort. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work to get something done.”
Dhakal credits the power of social media and the generosity of Utahns for his success with Cuban’s philanthropist challenge. “I was speechless. It really touched my heart. I’m not only giving someone a coat but also helping them to get to a better pathway in life,” he says.
Changing the WorlD
Harmer says that the whole experience helped to give refugees a voice. “Public perception about
refugees is often that we give them so much and that they drain our communities, or they take our jobs. But that isn’t the case,” she says. “Refugees contribute in remarkable ways and want to give back once they get back up on their feet. Ashis is the perfect example of that. When we invest in human potential, we receive great dividends.” Dhakal continues to serve both the local and international communities with various projects. In May of this year, he collected 500 pairs of shoes to donate to those in need in the Salt Lake City area. And in August, he raised more than $2,000 so that a sick baby in Nepal could have a life-saving surgery. “I want to change the world through service,” he says. As far as future plans, Dhakal will be working to expand his humanitarian efforts both locally and internationally by creating the Namaskar United Foundation. “Refugees contribute Ashis Collects Clothes will be a program run as part of in remarkable ways the foundation. “Locally, the and want to give back once they get back up homeless community is really struggling. I want to be able to help them through my on their feet. Ashis is nonprofit foundation,” he says. the perfect example of Internationally, Dhakal wants to build hospitals that. When we invest and schools in third-world in human potential, countries. “I want to give them we receive great countless opportunities like scholarships, resources, and dividends.” mainly education because I know that with education, impossibilities become realities. And with education in their life, I know that they can change the world for the better.” To support Dhakal in his humanitarian efforts, follow Namaskar United on Facebook and Instagram.
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The Children’s Center
Providing Help, Hope, & Healing
By Carolyn Campbell
Where can families turn when their very young children need help with mental or emotional issues? For nearly 60 years, The Children’s Center, a nonprofit organization in Salt Lake City, has provided mental health care to enhance the wellbeing of infants, toddlers, preschoolers, and their families and caregivers— regardless of their ability to pay.
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utah When toddler Ezra Blackham exhibited behaviors that his mother, Sonja Blackham, felt were “more than something he would just grow out of,” she followed the suggestions of two preschool teachers and a pediatrician. She took Ezra for an assessment at The Children’s Center, where he later began mental health and family therapy.
Ezra’s therapy started when he was 3½ years old and continued until he was 7. And the coping skills that Ezra, now age 9, learned at The Children’s Center continue to help him navigate life today.
Blackham explains, “My family has a history of mental health issues, including suicide. As a mother, it was important to me to help our son know how to care for his mental health. I knew that I was okay with therapy and wanted to seek it out.”
Blackham explained that Ezra has a lot of anxiety and gets scared easily. “The thought of getting into trouble puts him in a tailspin,” she shares. Once, Ezra said, “I don’t want to be on this earth because I make everyone else miserable.” Another time, he told his mother, “I’m afraid Jesus doesn’t want me.”
Ezra’s temper flared when things didn’t go his way at preschool, and he became extremely uncooperative. “Little kids grow out of biting and hitting, and he continued those behaviors longer than we thought was normal,” says Blackham. She and her husband observed that they could reason with Ezra’s older sister if she lost her temper. “We could talk her out of it eventually and let her play it out, but Ezra would just stay in it the whole day.” Because Ezra’s behavior affected the whole family, the Blackhams chose to begin family therapy. “We went once a week and then twice a month. Our daughter went with us, and my husband came sometimes,” says Blackham. “We learned how to incorporate coping tools into our daily lives.”
helping thouSanDS oF utah FamilieS
Founded in 1962 by Dr. Agnes M. Plenk, The Children’s Center began as a nursery school in a community church. One little boy was quite disruptive there. Plenk felt compelled to explain to his parents that he could no longer attend. His mother was highly distressed. She said, “You are the one person in the community who has the training to help us, and you’re turning us away?” This conversation was transformational—it inspired Plenk to create The Children’s Center. Often known by her nickname of Agi, Plenk was “a woman ahead of her time,” says Rebecca Dutson, president and CEO of The Children’s Center. “She understood that
the benefits of going upstream (beginning therapy at a young age) could change the trajectory of children’s lives.”
The Children’s Center has been a fixture in Utah for 58 years and provides care for more than 2,000 children, families, and caregivers each year. The organization has grown to employ a staff of more than 100 people who are dedicated to helping Utah families.
“The Children’s Center is a living, breathing agency that is committed to finding new and creative ways to help our community and the families living in it,” says Jennifer Mitchell, vice president of clinical strategy and innovation. She explains, “We see many behaviors that are considered typical for young children, such as anxiety around separation or challenges in meeting typical milestones or daily tasks such as eating or toileting.” On the surface, these might seem like average challenges. But there could be other complicating layers that are more intense than a child knows how to handle. Some families bring children with behavioral intensities such as “anxiety so severe that a child can’t ever separate and cries in childcare for hours,” says Mitchell. “We don’t want parents to become stuck in a cycle of wondering, ‘Is it bad enough to ask for help?’ We would rather that they go ahead and ask for the help.”
She explains that fewer diagnoses are appropriate for young children than for older children or adults since young children cannot articulate their internal experiences in ways that older children and adults can. They also have little control over their environment. “As a result, many young children present with similar challenges or behavioral concerns, including eating, toileting, sleeping, tantrums, defiance, and delays with reaching developmental milestones,” says Mitchell. “They have limited ability to speak for themselves, if they even have words at all, so much of the evaluation comes from direct observations and reports from parents and caregivers.”
Seeking Support
Many early experiences can affect a child’s development and functioning, including development in utero, delivery, and their caregivers’ well-being in the first few years of life (the most critical period of brain development). “The challenge in diagnosing young children is to look beneath the surface and get as much information as possible about the child’s environment and prior history,” says Mitchell.
Are there signs that a parent can look for that may indicate that seeking a mental health diagnosis might be a good idea? Mitchell suggests that caregivers can seek support when they are worried or unsure about anything related to their child’s well-being, rather than initially focusing on seeking a mental health diagnosis. “Talking with a trusted healthcare provider, such as a pediatrician, is a great place to start if caregivers are wondering about their child’s behavior or development.” She says that the healthcare provider can offer context for typical development and suggest resources and referrals if needed.
“All children have periods in their development where they struggle, so it is important to note the duration and intensity,” says Mitchell. It’s also important to consider the child’s quality of life. For example, are they enjoying typical activities such as age-appropriate play and peer interactions, sleeping and eating as expected? It’s valuable to consider whether the child’s challenges impact the family’s quality of life. (Do they avoid activities due to the child’s behavior?) She advises, “I encourage all caregivers to listen to their gut. They are the experts on their child. If something worries you or seems off, ask a healthcare professional.”
A young child’s sense of safety and well-being comes from their caregivers, says Mitchell. “They
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take their cues from them. If a caregiver is struggling, distressed, or worried, that may impact their interactions with their child and potentially their relationship. It’s important that caregivers not feel alone in parenting. There are providers available to answer their questions and offer support if needed.”
Sometimes it’s a new concept for people to think that such young children have mental health needs. “Once they stop and think about this, they realize that it’s true, just like we all have physical health needs,” says Dutson. “I will say that not every child and family needs our services. People come in for an assessment to make sure that we can provide them with the help they need.”
The center’s team of clinicians, psychologists, and psychiatrists are extremely skilled in using evidence-based treatment and trauma-informed practices. “It is very individualized and tailored to each child,” says Dutson. “Science tells us that when we work with very young children, they are highly resilient. When you give children the tools that they need to express themselves appropriately to advocate for their needs and interact with their peers, all of those skills go with them throughout their lives.” The services are “wrap-around” and include caregivers and siblings. All participating children and their families and caregivers are engaged in outpatient therapy; clinicians refer children who need additional assistance to the Therapeutic Preschool Program, which provides intensive daily treatment.
Coping toolS
During family therapy, Ezra and his family received a toolbox filled with coping tools. “It was a physical box, made from a shoebox, filled with little cards. We learned how to incorporate these tools into our daily lives,” Blackham recalls. One card depicted rainbow therapy, where Ezra imagined placing his feet in water, then envisioned a rainbow moving across his body. Another card represented a robot rag doll. When incorporating that tool, “Ezra would go really tense and squeeze his body (tight like a robot). Then he let his body relax (like a rag doll),” says Blackham. Ezra’s “special place” was a swimming pool with his sister, mom, and dad. “When he felt scared or anxious, he could think about this special place,” says Blackham. He also learned “cookie breathing,” in which the participant imagines the smell of fresh-baked cookies. “You breathe in as you put them in the oven and then exhale or blow on them to cool them,” says Blackham. “Ezra called it ‘sausage breathing’ because he would rather have a sausage than a cookie.”
Blackham explains that while Ezra took a long time to utilize the coping skills consistently, as time passed, he began to recognize when he was becoming angry. “While I don’t think he consciously pulls out the robot/rag doll coping tool, I still see him tense up and then let his body relax.” She adds, “He doesn’t lash out the way he did when he was younger. He can talk about his feelings and recognize what he is feeling—angry, frustrated, or even just happy.” She says Ezra’s most significant takeaway from the therapy is that he can now put words to his feelings. “That helps with communication in the family. I think it is vital to talk about mental health—to not be ashamed of it.
Mental health issues are more prevalent than we know. So many people are just afraid to talk about it.” After Ezra aged out of The Children’s Center, he continued therapy “because he enjoyed it so much,” says Blackham. “He felt comforted by that support, that somebody outside of Mom and Dad talked to him about his feelings.”
Creating a SenSe oF hope
Mitchell says, “At its core, the center focuses on supporting young children and their families by creating a sense of hope, no matter what their challenges are.” Speaking of The Children’s Center itself, Blackham says, “There is so much support and love that comes out of that building that it can benefit any child (for whom the assessment deems appropriate) from the smallest behavior such as anxiety. When families take advantage of the therapy when children are little, building that kind of support in a little person’s mind will only benefit them in the long term.”
Blackham says that she didn’t have a job when their family began therapy and that her husband was self-employed, so she is grateful that The Children’s Center operates on a sliding scale that made their participation possible. “Therapy is expensive, and insurances don’t always cover it,” she says. Because the center is a nonprofit, they can subsidize costs for families who usually wouldn’t be able to afford traditional counseling. “We do not turn away any child or family who needs our services,” says Dutson.
giving BaCk
For her final MBA project at the University of Utah, Blackham completed a consulting project. She assembled a team that included data analysts, a financial professional, and a doctor. She served as a marketing specialist. “We chose to do our project for The Children’s Center.” In the end, the four team members were “so touched by what The Children’s Center did and does for the community that we dedicated our graduation gifts from friends and family to them, raising just over $2,000.” She adds, “It gave our team a chance to give back to someone who could use it and provided me with a way to personally give back to The Children’s Center, who helped me so much with their sliding scale program.”
As for Ezra, “He kind of loved the pandemic. It gave him a chance to be at home, away from all of the crazy, anxiety-inducing things that happen at school,” says Blackham. “But he is back at school now. He recently made a great new friend and scored 100 percent on a spelling test. We need more organizations like The Children’s Center to support the mental health of children, starting at a youngage.”
To donate, volunteer, or get help, visit childrenscenterutah.org.
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The C O L O R of U
T A H
When people of
different races, cultures, and sexual orientations share ideas and work together, it enriches businesses and communities.
That’s why Nikki Walker
is on a mission to improve diversity and inclusion throughout the Beehive State.
By Jamie Armstrong | Portraits by Sydney Marie Photography
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utah hen Nikki Walker moved from Jersey City, New Jersey—one of the most diverse cities in the United States—to Lehi, Utah, she came with an open mind. “I didn’t have any preconceived notions about Utah at all,” she says.
Walker describes her Utah County community as “wonderful and welcoming.” Still, as a minority, there have been a few hiccups.
“I have a son who’s going to be 24 this year, and he’s a big guy. He has long dreadlocks, and he’s definitely a presence when he walks into a room. When we first moved here, going to the grocery store was quite the experience because there are children here who have never met a Black person in their lives—and it’s easy to not meet a Black person in Utah, where we make up less than 3 percent of the population,” she says. “There was a child who saw my son and couldn’t stop staring and pointing. He said, ‘Mom, look! There’s one of them.’ And I thought, ‘One of what? One human being? One big, tall man? One guy with braids?’”
“It disturbed me,” Walker admits. “But we’ve learned that moments like those are opportunities to talk with parents and say, ‘You know, this place is changing.’” This Is the Place As the director of brand experience and community engagement for Domo, a cloud software company based in American Fork, Walker works tirelessly to drive diversity and inclusion initiatives throughout the state. “I, too, believe that ‘this is the place,’” she says. “Utah is the place for growth. It is the place for prosperity. It is the place where you can grab hold of a star and make it to the moon. So, it’s my responsibility—the responsibility of people in marginalized communities who live here and don’t look like the population—to educate people and to say, ‘We are all one, and we all want the same things.’”
But doing so is easier said than done, and adjusting to Utah’s unique culture can be a challenge for many minorities. “I can literally name 15 people who, in the past four years, have come and gone because they could not align with the culture,” says Walker. “And I don’t mean the religious culture. I mean that the culture of this state is very family oriented. It is very ‘This is your group. These are your people.’ And it sometimes can feel cliquish.”
Both Progressive and Conservative But Utah is on the forefront of creating a state where everyone is welcomed on equal footing. “A lot of things that have happened in Utah are very progressive, and people really overlook that because it’s such a conservative state,” says Walker. “Utah has really taken the opportunity to lead the way in terms of equitable legality for certain communities, particularly the LGBTQ+ community.”
Leaders are also taking steps to improve diversity and inclusion at a state level. Before former governor Gary Herbert left office, Walker participated in the signing of the Utah Compact on Racial Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion: A Declaration of Five Principles and Actions to Create Equal Opportunity. “There are all of these amazing statements inside the compact that say, ‘We want to make this a better place—a welcoming place, and a place where everybody feels comfortable,’” she explains. “And knowing that Governor Cox has made a serious commitment to stick by it and elevate it and expand it feels really good. It feels really good to see that at the very tops of government and
leadership, things like equity for people of color and equity for people in the LGBTQ+ community are top of mind.”
But there is still progress to be made. For minorities, “There’s a lot of feeling left out of conversations that are happening around diversity,” says Walker. “There’s a lot of miscommunication between policymakers and the community right now.”
One example that Walker sites is The C.R.O.W.N. Act—an anti-discrimination initiative for “creating a respectful and open world for natural hair.” The bill was recently brought forward by Representative Sandra Hollins—the only woman of color in the state legislature.
“The C.R.O.W.N. Act is being passed in many states around the country because women of color have been discriminated against because of the way that they wear their hair—whether it’s because of dreadlocks or braids or natural afros,” Walker explains. “Many of the legislators didn’t understand why we needed this bill. And instead of hearing the voices of Black women in the community, one of the legislators told a story about how their nanny has never experienced discrimination because of her hair. “It was very dismissive, and the bill got tabled.” She adds, “I think that on a lot of issues, the legislature is separated from the realities of the things that they are trying to legislate. But I don’t think that it is unique to Utah.”
Diversity of Thought As Walker works with local businesses to improve diversity and inclusion, she emphasizes that equitable employment is completely different than affirmative action. “Nobody wants to be hired because they fit some box that you are trying to check,” she says. “It’s not fair to them. It’s not fair to you. It’s not going to bring any glory to anybody or anything.”
Instead, Walker strives to help employers hire from a more diverse pool of candidates. “Talent is equally distributed, but opportunity is not,” she says. “It is the responsibility of people who are holding power to provide opportunity for all of the talent that exists—not just for the portion of talent that looks like you, thinks like you, talks like you, and worships like you.”
By expanding their pool of candidates, businesses avoid creating an echo chamber and benefit from new perspectives and new ideas. “When you sit at a table where everybody is the same, everyone is just amplifying each other’s same ideas and beliefs,” Walker explains. “But if you sit at a table with 10 people from different backgrounds, now you can more closely relate to your client, your customer, and your community because you have these different perspectives. For me, diversity has always been about diversity of thought, and you can’t have diversity of thought without diversity of people.”
So, where should employers go to seek out diverse talent? Livingcolorutah.com is a great place to start. The website has links to several minority chambers of commerce and business alliances. “Utah has the Black chamber, the Hispanic chamber, the Asian chamber, and the LGBTQ chamber,” says Walker. “It’s imperative that your organization is engaging with them because they can get your message to their audience. If you’re looking for local diverse talent, it’s at the chambers.”
that at the very tops of government and leadership, things like equity for people of color and equity for people in the LGBTQ+ community are top of mind.”
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utah Black Lives Matter Without question, diversity enriches people’s lives and strengthens communities. But with diversity of thought and experience comes diversity of opinions and beliefs, which can sometimes be polarizing. The death of George Floyd last summer and the Black Lives Matter protests that followed are a prime example.
“At Domo, right after Mr. George Floyd was murdered, we rallied together. Before all this happened, we had been working in the background on some huge diversity and inclusion programs,” Walker recalls. “Suddenly the timing seemed very insensitive, but we still wanted to make sure that people understood that we saw what was happening and that we supported not only our employees but our customers, our neighbors, and our friends who are Black. We wanted to let them know that their lives matter.”
Domo decided to run full-page ads in the Salt Lake Tribune and the Deseret News with the declaration that Black lives matter. They invited other Utah companies to join them, and within 48 hours, 260 businesses had also signed Domo’s statement. Then, in famous Domo fashion, the company created a billboard that simply read: #BlackLivesMatter. Unfortunately, many Utah residents did not appreciate the gesture.
“It upset half of the valley,” Walker recalls. “There came a point where we were getting up to 30 messages a day saying that Domo was affiliated with a hate group and that we were racist. Somebody threatened to burn our building down. The billboard was vandalized. It was frightening.”
Despite her disappointment at the community’s reaction, Walker said that it created an opportunity to help people to better understand what Black Lives Matter is all about. “It’s an organization. It’s also a movement. It’s also a statement. There are these three different things circling around, so people get confused and offended,” she explains. “The organization is controversial, and it is not something that I am affiliated with. But the Black Lives Matter movement is something that I fully support—it’s the idea that the lives of Black people are important. That movement is important to me because it mobilizes people and gets folks excited about getting involved in the world in which they live, whether that means protesting or talking to legislators or corralling your friends and cleaning up the neighborhood.”
Getting Involved And getting involved is something that is second nature for Walker. “My father was a Black Panther and also a Marine,” she says. “Service to the country and to the community was instilled in me from a young age. It was my dream to become a Marine, but because of my asthma, I wasn’t able to.” So, instead, Walker has become actively involved in several organizations throughout Utah, including sitting on the boards of Salt Lake Community College, The Children’s Center, and Salt Lake Academy of Music. Shealso serves as Utah County chair for the Utah Black Chamber of Commerce.
“The unfortunate plight of Black women, especially in this climate, is that we have to take our trauma and use it for good,” says Walker. “And the plight of my good girlfriends who happen to be White is to use their privilege for good. So, I’m going to use my trauma to teach. And I expect in return that my White girlfriends will use their privilege for good. If we can do that together, then we can really make a difference here.”
Progress and Purpose To get where we need to be as a state, Walker understands that patience is key. “Progress is not as fast as people would like for it to be. We’ve spent the past 400 years as a country in racial turmoil, and it doesn’t turn around over one bloody summer,” she says. “But leadership is taking steps to make sure that this is not being swept under the rug, and I think that’s a big win.”
Walker describes her diversity and inclusion efforts as “exhausting but worth it,” and she shows no sign of slowing down. “I found my purpose,” she says. “And right now, my purpose is to connect people and entities to each other so that everybody can win. I know what the communities have to offer, and it’s really awesome to watch it all come together.”
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TRANSFORMING LIVES
Photo licensed by Ingram Publishing LORALIE PEARCE BY
Fall 2021 “I want to assert something bold right now. That is that even the most broken people can reinvent themselves and become 35 somebody they have never known. It doesn’t matter if you’ve utah lived your life on the streets, been a life-long drug addict, or spent your life in and out of jails and prisons. Anyone can change. I know because I was one of those broken people.”
—DaviD Durocher, executive Director of the other SiDe acaDemy
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utah avid Durocher is the executive director of The Other Side Academy—a residential rehabilitation program based in Salt Lake City. His road to this career he loves has been brutal and jagged; it has also been rewarding, joyful, and worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.
It was on one of those roads back that Durocher made a decision that would transform his life.
“I was looking at a 22-year prison term, my fifth, and that was really humbling. I’d spent the majority of my adult life in there, and now I was going to die in there,” he recalls. “I was scared, broken, and I just needed to do something different. I heard of Delancey Street, and I wrote them. But I didn’t write them to change. I wrote them because it was my only hope of getting out from underneath the prison sentence.”
Delancey Street
Delancey Street is a nonprofit organization based in San Francisco that offers residential rehabilitation services to substance abusers, ex-convicts, and others. The goal of Delancey Street is to help people “learn to lead a productive, crime-free, drug-free life of purpose and integrity.” Where most rehab programs are 30, 60, or 90 days long, Delancey Street’s model is 2 years or longer. Durocher didn’t care—2 years was better than 22. His intention was to only do the bare minimum, but something happened along the way that he did not expect. “Because [the program] is so long, because it’s behavior modification and not some doctor or therapist sitting around all day telling me what I need to change and what I’m doing wrong when I already know those things, [because] it was my peers blasting me for my behaviors until I changed those, I learned how to be an honest, accountable, contributing member of the community living a value-centered life of integrity,” Durocher explains.
Durocher would stay at Delancey Street for eight and a half years, but not all of them were as a student. After three and a half years, he knew that he was ready to reintegrate into the community. But he was given an opportunity of a lifetime, and he took it.
“The last five years I was in Delancey Street, I actually managed the LA facility. I was what they called the facilitator or the managing director, and I oversaw all 15 vocational training schools—all 200 residents,” says Durocher. “I managed the entire facility, and I did it for free. I was honored that
[they] would ask me. I thought about my life prior to what I was doing and how much I loved what I was doing there [at Delancey Street], helping people get from where I once was to where I was at, and I said, ‘Absolutely, I’ll stay.’”
the other SiDe acaDemy
Once Durocher started helping others, he never stopped. Flash forward to 2015 and the opening of The Other Side Academy (TOSA), and we find him, along with numerous others, helping the most lost among us. Based off the same model as Delancey Street, The Other Side Academy is a two-and-a-halfyear residential training academy for substance abusers, convicts, the homeless, and those who have hit rock-bottom and need help.
“The program is available as an alternative to those facing long-term incarceration as well as those seeking a change from the life they’ve chosen in the past,” Durocher explains. The mission is “to create a therapeutic community available across the world, to all who need it.” And when they say “all,” they mean all. It is a goal of TOSA to never have to turn away someone who is fighting for their life. So, what makes TOSA’s rehabilitation program so unique? Three words: time, peers, cost. The Other Side Academy is 100 percent selfsufficient, meaning that the student doesn’t pay a dime—unlike the typical 30-, 60-, and 90-day rehab programs where often “the amount of help you get ... is determined by how much money you have,” says Durocher.
The Other Side Academy is all about helping to change behavior. In Durocher’s words, “Drug addicts are liars, cheaters, thieves, manipulators, self-centered, self-seeking, human beings that don’t care about anybody. Who cares if they get clean and sober if they haven’t completely changed? If they’re clean and sober, but they leave the program and they are still sneaky, they’re still liars, and they are still living like a drug addict, then they’re going to use again.”
Research shows that the 30-, 60-, or 90-day models have a 3 to 5 percent success rate. The Other Side Academy’s model is long and difficult, but those who complete their two-and-a-half-year stay have an 82 percent success rate of being drugfree, crime-free, and employed. After three years, that success rate jumps to 91 percent. “The further you get that lifestyle behind you, the harder it is to go back because you’ve learned to live a new life,” Durocher says.
the roaD to recovery
So, how does the program work? “You write us a letter from the county jail. We interview you, and we accept you. You get a letter of acceptance, and you take it to the judge. The judge can then sentence you to TOSA, but only if we’ve interviewed you. Or you can walk through the front door, take a seat on our bench, and ask for an interview,” Durocher explains. “We’ll interview you right then, and if we accept you, you need nothing.”
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TOSA provides everything from clothing and food to housing and employment. Students live on the property in dorms, similar to a university setting. They also move through the ranks of freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior. After completing the initial two-and-a-half years, students can choose to leave or stay as long as
they need. This is possible because TOSA is selfsufficient—they don’t take any money from the city, county, state, or federal government. They don’t take money from Medicaid or insurance companies either. Why is that important? “Because as soon as a student comes to us, whether it’s out of jail or off the streets, they’re responsible for generating a revenue,” Durocher explains. “They’re responsible for their own recovery.”
TOSA has social enterprises that generate the revenue needed to run the program. They have a moving company, thrift store, storage company, and construction company. During the first few months at TOSA, freshmen will live in-house and work by cooking and cleaning. Once staff gets to know them better, they are assigned a job working for one of TOSA’s companies. As students continue to grow and become their better selves, they are given more responsibilities such as mentoring others in the program or becoming a staff member in training. After completing the program, they might even be hired on as staff.
While in the program, students do not receive a paycheck for their work. However, it is important to note that TOSA works with several businesses like Sweets Candy, Hughes General Contractors, and several others so that upon graduation, every single graduate is placed into a full-time job. These are jobs that pay a good living wage and offer health and retirement benefits. Graduates can also opt to work as paid staff for TOSA while continuing to live on the property, where they receive reduced rent and low-cost meals, and, of course, the camaraderie of The Other Side Academy community. This community of peers is at the heart of the program and has the most profound influence on every person who walks through TOSA’s doors.
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This community of peers is at the heart of the program and has the most profound influence on every person who walks through The Other Side Academy’s doors.
community anD connection
Tori, a former student and current staff member, has learned firsthand why this model changes lives. “When you come to TOSA, we put you in real-life situations. Everybody has a job from eight to five, and everybody is working on taking accountability and holding others accountable for their behavior. While you’re working, these behaviors come out, and your peers call you on it.”
She continues, “So, say Jane is [being] negative today. I would say, ‘Jane, they asked us to have a positive attitude.’ Her response can only be, ‘Okay,’ because [at TOSA] there’s no conflict allowed on the floor whatsoever.”
Tori says that twice a week, students go into a “game setting” with about 23 of their peers. It is in this setting that they hold each other accountable. “At that time, I would put the game on Jane, and I would say, ‘Jane you had a bad attitude the other day. You made it hard to work. I don’t know why you’re so negative when you came here to be somebody different. Don’t you want to change that?’” she explains. “So, I would address her behavior in that game setting, and then somebody else would chime in with, ‘Jane, I noticed that you lied the other day.’ As we address the behavior in that game setting, Jane can either sit back and say, ‘Okay, I’m here to change. I’m being humble. I’m going to take accountability for this, and I’m going to fix it.’ Or she can say, ‘You’re wrong. That isn’t who I am.’”
But what if there is a disagreement about the comments? “Then we’d get mentorship, and we’d
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utah get guidance on that, and we would say, ‘From the feedback in the game setting and talking with your peers and your mentors, Jane, you are like that. Let’s work through that. Let’s help you through this because this is what your peers are seeing,’” saysTori.
It’s not always easy to be positive, even in the best of circumstances, but TOSA students are taught to try to make the best of each situation. “We have a belief called ‘act as if’—act as if you’re happy until it becomes you. You put that smile on and you get through your workday, and I’m telling you that it makes you a better person in the end. That change of behavior—thinking and acting differently—helps you teach the next person coming in,” says Tori. “You can say, ‘Hey, I’ve been through this. I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to have a bad attitude every day. Let me show you how I got through it.’ That’s where the mentorship comes in. That’s how we address behavior and get people to change.”
There are no doctors, clinicians, or therapists who work at TOSA. Everybody who works at The Other Side Academy is an ex-criminal or ex-drug addict or somebody who has been homeless and just gotten their life together. This is by design. “It is called experiential overlap, and the reason it works is because you are being mentored and held accountable by peers—peers who can connect with you on a visceral level, heart to heart, human to human,” says Durocher.
It is the visceral connection that inspires people to fix themselves. It is the heart to heart that enables those who are lost to be found. It is the human to human that helps students to “reinvent themselves and become somebody they have never known.” It is the combination that makes The Other Side Academy so unique and so successful. For Durocher, TOSA represents the culmination of a life changed and the beginning of a wonderful life journey helping others. “I spent the first half of my life helping people to die,” he says. “I intend to spend the rest of it helping them to live.”
Visit theothersideacademy.com to learn more.
THE OTHER SIDE VILLAGE
The Other Side’s next big adventure is the creation of The Other Side Village—a permanent, tiny-home community in Salt Lake City for men and women coming out of chronic homelessness. Their goal is to build up to 40 homes by March 2022. To learn how you can donate, volunteer, or get involved in other ways, please visit theothersidevillage.com.
