“Building welcoming communities is not a luxury”: Opening remarks at the Welcoming Interactive 2025

“Building welcoming communities is not a luxury. It is essential.”

Editor’s note: Following are remarks by Rachel Perić, executive director of Welcoming America, delivered on May 21, 2025 at the opening plenary of the Welcoming Interactive in Detroit, Michigan. They have been lightly edited for web publication.

In 1950s Brooklyn, a stunned boy looked up as a newly arrived refugee — a mother of two — shimmied up a cherry tree in her backyard to pick fruit.

That woman was my grandmother. As she picked cherries, she remembered her grandmother telling her that in America, money grows on trees. “Well,” she said, “I’m good at climbing trees!”

She never found that money tree.

But did find a home.

A place where she could raise a family, and feed them the stewed cherries of her childhood.

Just outside our doors, this land was once abundant with cherry trees. Black cherry and crabapple grew along the riverbanks, nourishing the First Peoples whose ancestral homelands we stand on now: the Wyandot and the Anishinaabe nations: the Odawa, Ojibwe, and Potawatomi.

And we stand near what was once a vibrant Black neighborhood.

Families here grew lush gardens like this one just a mile down the road. Corns, beans, squash — food that nourished their families and community.

This is before displacement.

Before their homes were razed to build the freeway nearby.

Like my grandmother, many of these Detroiters had also fled danger. Leaving the Jim Crow South to build a better life. And then experiencing welcome and unwelcome, thriving and displacement, inclusion and separation.

Our identities and histories may differ, but we all share the same yearning: freedom, opportunity, safety, belonging.

A place to put down roots. To build a better life. To be seen. To strive. To dream.The kind of place we all deserve.

But it’s hard to build such a place when what we also share is pain.

The pain of being forced out of our homeland. The pain of being separated by borders, partitions, walls — that divide us into us versus them, into the deserving and the undeserving.

The pain of losing what once felt like home — not just as immigrants, but as anyone who knows hardship, loss, grief.

And there are people who use that pain to divide us.

They profit from our fear.

They tell us that only some people deserve to climb.

That the money tree is only for those who already have the tallest ladder. Who make it seem like we can only climb one rung higher by keeping someone less deserving one rung below.

But this is not the only story. Because stories can divide us, but they can also unite. They help us imagine a place like the one our ancestors dreamed of: an abundant place where trees bear fruit for everyone, where we climb not alone but together, where roots stretch beneath the soil and connect us, rather than separate us.

That is what this community represents.

From where I stand, this room is powerful.

Outside these doors, the world feels heavy. We are witnessing cruelty that is not only inhuman but intentional.

Designed to divide us.

To make us afraid.

To make us think the world is small and there is not enough to go around. That we should put up more walls, create more separation, push others down so that we can climb higher, but still never reach the top.

But we’re not buying that. This room is choosing a different path — and we’re already building it in our backyards. In schools, city halls, libraries, local chambers and on main streets.

Places where people feel welcome and feel at home. Where dignity is defended. Where belonging is more than a buzzword.

It’s a practice. A policy. A way of being.

We are building communities where status doesn’t define our humanity — our humanity defines our status.

I want you to know how powerful you are. Over 600 communities in our international alliance, over 300 here in the U.S. alone.

You are showing the world what is possible.

And you aren’t backing away — you are doubling down.

You are standing up for people who are being labeled as disposable, ripped from family, detained, deported, disappeared.

You’re reminding us that safety comes from taking care of each other — from strengthening trust between neighbors, institutions, and local governments.

That prosperity comes from connection — to each other, and to opportunity, whether we are building stronger communities, careers, or economies.

You’re making sure that kids can learn and feel like they belong. You are defending collective dignity, not just individual rights. And a big shout out to the Tennessee Immigrant & Refugee Rights Coalition for their efforts to sustain all our children’s rights to public school.

You are the upstanders, fighting not out of self-interest but shared interest. And you are doing the math. $1.5 trillion is what mass deportation would cost us. But $2.1 trillion is what we could gain each year by closing the racial wealth gap, if we invested in entrepreneurship, home ownership, workforce, if we reduced barriers to participation and access. The kind of policies and programs that are part of Certified Welcoming.

29 cities and counties are now Certified Welcoming, including right here in Detroit. We are proud to celebrate Detroit’s leadership and commitment to equity and inclusion. Thanks to many partners here, especially our co-hosts Global Detroit, Michigan and Detroit were some of the first places in the country to create a welcoming agenda, and turn that into action, thanks to a legacy of community power.

You are creating that community power.

And you are the storytellers, making sure we aren’t erased and our histories are visible.

You are the bridge builders.

You are speaking out, and also working quietly behind the scenes to make sure others whose voices need to be heard can do so with the courage and conviction that they aren’t standing alone.

So that as we weigh the risks of speaking up, we also ask — what is the risk of doing nothing? What is the cost of staying silent?

Every small action matters. You matter. Your courage matters. Your conviction matters.

You understand that building welcoming communities is not a luxury. It is not nice to have. It is essential. It weaves us into a common “we.” It’s the foundation of a healthy democracy.
It is under attack because it is working. So keep going.

Whether you are new to this work or have been in it for years, you are welcome here. We need you. Let us know how we can support you. Over the next few days we are going to recharge, reconnect, and reenergize for the long game. Plant seeds that may not bear fruit until the next generation. And honor the hard work that brought us to this moment together.

We are going to remind ourselves of who we can be, in order to build the future we can become. A future that has enough for all of us.