Mizuki Uchiyama

NY1 TV Package: https://vimeo.com/1144674298/307364e3d9

Kalpana Tiwari from Nepal is taking a sewing class at SACSS

When Kalpana Tiwari, 32, arrived in New York from Nepal seven years ago, she could barely ask for directions. Afraid to speak English and unsure how to navigate the subway, she often stayed home with her toddler, hoping things would somehow get easier with time. 

The pressure to succeed, to earn money and give her children a better education, felt constant. But with little English and no local work experience, every step seemed out of reach.

 “People think we Asians come here and do well,” says Tiwari. “But I was scared. I didn’t understand anything.”

Asian residents experience poverty at nearly the same rate as Black and Latino New Yorkers, around one in four. The divide is especially stark among Asians: poverty ranges from about 6% among Indian Americans to roughly twice that among Bangladeshi and Pakistani Americans, and over three times higher among Burmese Americans. These inequities rarely surface in public conversations shaped by the “model minority” myth, leaving many communities underfunded and overlooked. Against this backdrop, grassroots organizations in Queens, especially those serving South Asian immigrants, have become essential lifelines for residents.

Students gather around the teacher

Inside the sewing classroom at the South Asian Council for Social Services (SACSS) in Flushing, the soft whir of machines fills the room. Bright fabrics spill across tables as women lean over their work, speaking in Bangla, Nepali, Hindi, and sometimes in hesitant English. 

At one corner table, Baby Miriam, 48, from Bangladesh lifts a dress she finished in just two days. She laughs shyly as she smooths the hem.

“Language, language,” Miriam says. She describes the struggle of navigating hospitals without language support, filling out school forms she cannot read, depending on children to translate, and accepting low-wage jobs because she cannot communicate with employers.

“Back home, I worked, but here… nothing,” she said in her new language. “Now my teacher help. Little, little English. I am so happy tailoring, English, computer… good. Now I feel something is possible.”

For many of the women in the room, this class is the first place in New York where they feel understood, linguistically, culturally, and emotionally.

SACSS program director Mary Archana Fernandez says these stories reflect long-standing gaps in the way immigrant families receive services. When the organization was founded in 2000, almost no city agencies offered support in South Asian languages, a major oversight in Queens, home to one of the largest South Asian populations in the country.

“People think South Asians and Asians are the model minority, doing very well, doctors and engineers,” Fernandez says. “But there’s a huge population people don’t see, with real needs: language, healthcare and benefits.”

SACSS now offers services in 20 languages, ranging from Nepali and Bangla to Mandarin and Urdu. Clients can take English or computer classes, receive help navigating Medicaid or SNAP applications, find vocational training, or access the food pantry, often all in the same visit.

“When our clients walk in, they feel this is a safe place,” Fernandez says. “They meet someone who speaks their language, looks like them, understands their culture. That changes everything.”

SACSS staff also help immigrants re-enter the workforce by evaluating foreign degrees, navigating licensing requirements, and preparing resumes. Many women start with sewing because it allows them to earn income from home while caring for children.

“It’s not just skills,” Fernandez says. “It’s dignity.”

Ziyao Tian, a research associate of race and ethnicity research at Pew Research Center, says the challenges South Asian immigrants face are rooted in systemic gaps.

Tian says language access remains one of the biggest barriers. Almost 60% of Asian-language speakers in New York City have limited English proficiency, yet many hospitals, schools and government agencies still lack adequate translation or interpretation services.

Even funding itself is inequitable. Asian New Yorkers make up 18% of the city’s population but receive only 6% of social-service funding. “People don’t understand that Asian poverty exists, and when people don’t see a problem, they don’t fund it.” Tian says. 

“The need is especially urgent now. As housing prices rise, many immigrant families are being pushed out to the suburbs, where culturally competent services are far less accessible,” Fernandez says. 

Fernandez says many immigrants avoid seeking public benefits because of fears tied to federal immigration policies – fears that have deepened amid shifts in federal guidelines and stepped-up enforcement.

“SACSS staff took extra care to reassure anxious clients. We want to make sure people feel safe. Trust is everything.” Fernandez says. 

Part of the reason Asian poverty remains overlooked, Tian says, is the persistence of the “model minority” myth, the stereotype that Asians are uniformly educated, successful and economically secure. This narrative erases vast differences within Asian communities and can lead to underfunding of services for those who need them most.

Pew Research’s focus groups back this up. Burmese, Hmong and Mongolian Americans reported some of the highest poverty rates in the nation. Many participants said they were unsure how to access public benefits because materials were not in their languages. Others described working multiple jobs to support family abroad while barely affording rent.

Tian says highly educated immigrants with degrees from South Asia struggle to re-enter their fields because their credentials are not recognised. Parents take low-wage jobs that offer no stability because they cannot communicate with English-speaking employers. Many families rely on children to translate for them, a burden that complicates everything from school communication to medical care.

SACSS’s approach, language support, practical skills, and culturally responsive programming, directly targets these gaps.

As the class winds down, the women pack away fabric and colours, chatting lightly as they gather their belongings. Kalpana folds her finished blouse into a plastic bag with meticulous care. Later this month, she says, she hopes to apply for part-time sewing jobs, a step she once thought out of reach.

“Now I start my job,” she says, beaming. “I’m confident. Always thankful.”