“It’s a lot of unknowns and things that we know could change – just like that.”

It’s before 9 a.m. on Tuesday morning, and the Atlanta chapter of the Boat People SOS office in Norcross is already busy.

Several people are in the office of this non-profit, and there are snacks on the table in the communal kitchen – a bowl of yucca, a plastic container full of grapes, and a bag of instant Nescafe. The free health clinic is about to open up, and a member of the staff, Misa Le- is setting up the patient intake room.  

Misa is one of three staff who are trained as community health workers funded through AmeriCorps at the nonprofit, which serves mostly low income Vietnamese families in the Atlanta area.

Now they don’t know how long their jobs will last. 

Last week, AmeriCorps, a federally funded community service agency, had its staffing slashed by Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). 75 percent of its employees were laid off. And Boat People SOS is worried the grant that allows them to do their community health work, both here in Atlanta and around the US, will be cut.

Huy Ve, who manages the health workers, and is also funded through the grant, hasn’t been able to get any answers from headquarters.

What he knows about the cuts at AmeriCorps, he told 285 South, is whatever he’s read in the news. ‘“We haven’t heard anything from our PO [Project Officer].” He’s been reaching out to her, since she’s his point person at the agency, but hasn’t been able to get through. “We usually talk. she hasn’t responded…normally she would just respond right away through text… I feel like maybe she’s cut.”

Huy oversees Boat People SOS’ AmeriCorps funded community health workers – over 20 people –  working at the six different BPSOS locations across the country. They do everything from getting community members vaccinated to making sure they have access to public health information – most recently they’ve been sending out information through their newsletter and Facebook page about the measles vaccine.

The health workers are continuing to show up to work – because they haven’t been told to do otherwise, and because they believe the work is essential. “Not knowing is scary,” he said. “We don’t know how it’s going to impact us yet. “Are we going to be able to finish this month?”  

He’s not alone – AmeriCorps members who were funded to work at local community organizations, or even schools, across the country have been saying they either have lost their jobs, don’t know if they have their jobs, or if they do, for how long. 

Quyen Phan co-founded BPSOS’s free health clinic in Norcross, which the community health workers help run, over 15 years ago, after she realized there was a need for it. “In the early days, we focused on Vietnamese speaking patients, because we had a lot of refugees.” Many of them, she said, worked in low wage jobs and didn’t have healthcare; “like Hong Kong market, for example, they may not have insurance. Or they could be nail shop technicians. They don’t get insurance.” Now, their clients aren’t just Vietnamese, but come from many different communities – almost half are Hispanic, she said.

Quyen was able to secure a federal grant in 2022, through the Emory School of Nursing, where’s she a professor, which allowed her to fund two part-time nurse practitioners at BPSOS. Crystal Ho is one of them. She’s been volunteering with the organization since she was in high school – almost half her life. Dressed in lavender scrubs, she was preparing for her first patient of the day to show up. She’s deeply tied to the community members she serves; she recently decided to get training in mental health, because she was struggling to figure out where to refer patients who needed in-language, culturally sensitive mental and behavioral health support. She’s now not sure how long she’ll be funded to do her job.

Through both the clinic and mobile health initiatives, the nurse practitioners are able to provide both chronic disease management as well as care for episodic issues, says Quyen. “Hypertension, High cholesterol, Liver disease. Heart disease.” Although they see patients as young as 18, the majority, she said, “are above 55, and don’t speak English.”

Community health isn’t the only service BPSOS provides – over the course of any given day, Vietnamese seniors will trickle into the office – some coming to the health clinic, others for help with paperwork, like renewing SNAP benefits. Right now, many are coming in for help filing their tax returns (so far, BPSOS has filed around 700 returns on behalf of their community members).  The small nonprofit also provides educational classes – just a few weeks earlier, they hosted a self-defense class, and in May, they’ll be kicking off a citizenship preparation class.

Quyen’s desire to serve her community comes from her own experiences, and she’s no stranger to adversity. “I was 16 when I left Vietnam on a boat with my dad. I remember the boat ride. I remember being shot at. I remember running out of water. I’ve been an asylum seeker, I’ve been a refugee, and now I’m an immigrant. I have my green card,” she said.  “I’ve been through it all.” 

For now, Quyen and the others working at  BPSOS  will continue serving their community, doing their jobs as best they can, in the face of uncertainty about the future.  “It’s a lot of unknowns and things that we know may change,” she says, snapping her fingers, “just like that.”