Krystal McRae Nicole Cardoza Krystal McRae Nicole Cardoza

Celebrate diversity in punk music.

When you think of punk music, what bands come to mind? You may think the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, or even Green Day. All of those bands are white, and the stereotypical image of a punk is white, too. Those are some of the main bands folks can associate with punk, but they aren’t the pioneers, or even the ones who invented the genre. In fact, like a lot of today’s musical genres, punk has its roots in Black music.


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By Krystal McRae (she/her)

When you think of punk music, what bands come to mind? You may think the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, or even Green Day. All of those bands are white, and the stereotypical image of a punk is white, too. Those are some of the main bands folks can associate with punk, but they aren’t the pioneers, or even the ones who invented the genre. In fact, like a lot of today’s musical genres, punk has its roots in Black music.

Punk emerged in the 1970’s in NYC, and was the opposite of the colorful and psychedelic mainstream rock at the time (Pitchfork). Punk cut meandering guitar solos for short, aggressive, and often political songs, and fostered an ethos that anyone could start a band and play music if you had something to say. Although bands and audiences were largely white at the time, influential Black artists helped build the punk scene from the beginning, and used the genre to challenge the status quo.

Black punks were unapologetic, and in your face, and they had EVERY RIGHT to be. Like Death for example, out of Detroit, who were punk before punk had a name. They turned down signing with Clive Davis because they didn’t want to change their name. In their hometown, they were doing something different. While everyone was listening to Earth, Wind and Fire, Death took a more “aggressive” approach to rock and roll (The New York Times).

Punk, and rock belonged to Black people just as much as it belonged to anyone else. Yet, somewhere down the line, things got diluted. Even in the Riot Grrrl era of the early early 90’s, when feminist bands led by women took hold and used the punk scene as a place to expose, and fight patriarchy, Black women were often excluded. And maybe it was an “oversight,” but these things kept happening. It was as if the contributions of Black women were forgotten. This isn’t just a problem in punk music. Many music genres and cultural spaces from disco to rock are predominantly associated with white people despite the crucial role of Black musicians.

We can take rock music back to Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Chuck Berry, and most definitely Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton, who recorded the original “Hound Dog.” However, the song didn’t receive the recognition it deserved until Elvis Presley came along, and re-recorded it for white audiences (Diversity, Inc). Each of what Tharpe, Berry, and Thornton did laid the foundation for rock and roll as we know today, and honestly laid the perfect foundation of what punk today is...this unapologetic attitude of being yourself, and existing the way you are.

Luckily, Black women like Tamar-kali Brown, Simi Stone, Honeychild Coleman and Maya Glick changed the narrative and started the Sista Grrrl Riots in NYC in the 90’s. This was the place for Black women, and other Black punks to be themselves, be free, and to see the representation they were missing (Vice).

Black people have always existed in this genre. It’s just that everyone else has to catch up. And even a few decades later, this conversation is still alive and well. I have gone to many shows here in NYC over the past 10-12 years, including many punk shows. And maybe this isn’t shocking, but often I am the only Black girl in the crowd, or one of the few people of color in general. While I feel welcome in the scene, there needs to be more done to fully embrace Black, Indigenous and other people of color, and to let them know there is a space for them, and to fully include them in this genre they created. Diversity in music scenes shouldn’t just be a box that's “checked off,” it’s a necessity.

Now I am thankful for the work of organizations like Black Rock Coalition, who “represent a united front of musically and politically progressive Black artists and supporters” (BRC), and the Mad Collective, which is a POC punk collective focused on uplifting unheard voices in punk (Instagram). And, of course, the Sista Grrrl Riots, who put Black women at the forefront, instead of the shadows.

This is part of decolonizing the scene, and making it more inclusive and safer for all artists and listeners. And that’s something we should all be working towards in all the spaces we’re in, whether it’s a house show or a neighborhood. The issues with the lack of inclusion in music aren’t just in the Punk scene, but part of a broader issue. The question remains, will folks listen to the solutions and actually implement them?


Krystal McRae (she/her) is a writer from NYC. When she’s not checking out/writing about local music, she is yelling about diversity in the music scene on her site “Scenes From the Underground.”


Key Takeaways


  • Black people laid the foundation for not just rock, but much of the music genres we know today.

  • Punk is a sub-genre that is about being against the status quo, being unapologetic, and being yourself.

  • If we are to decolonize music, we have to include Black people in punk, and not forget their accomplishments.


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Unpack stereotypes on cleanliness.

These conversations seemed harmless and amusing, but historically, the cultural conversation on cleanliness hasn’t been this casual. The notion of cleanliness has been wielded against immigrants, communities of color, and other marginalized groups to justify oppression and ostracization. Everyone is welcome to bathe however they choose, but not everyone has the privilege to talk about not bathing without the weight of racial implications.


TAKE ACTION


  • Consider: Where may you have heard these stereotypes before? What books, podcasts, TV shows, movies, etc. have you seen recently that perpetuate these today?

  • Contact manufacturers of beauty products to oppose tropes like Black skin being dirty, unattractive, or a problem to be corrected. Avoid products marketed using racist themes.


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Recently (and why, I do not know), a series of white celebrities shared their bathing habits with the press. Mila Kunis, Ashton Kutcher, and Kristen Bell said they only bathe their kids when they smell bad (People). Jake Gyllenhall noted that he finds bathing “less necessary” (Vanity Fair). Commenters were quick to note that these sentiments were shared by white celebrities, and non-white stars like Jason Momoa, Dwayne Johnson and Cardi B were quick to express their love for frequent showers and baths. These conversations seemed harmless and amusing, but historically, the cultural conversation on cleanliness hasn’t been this casual. The notion of cleanliness has been wielded against immigrants, communities of color, and other marginalized groups to justify oppression and ostracization. Everyone is welcome to bathe however they choose, but not everyone has the privilege to talk about not bathing without the weight of racial implications.

In the late 19th century, many Chinese and Japanese people immigrated to the U.S. and Canada for the gold rush, as did European immigrants. Asian immigrant labor labor was indispensable for the growth of infrastructure alongside the West Coast, but they were paid terribly compared to their white American counterparts (The Conversation).

As Chinese communities grew, white communities turned against them, fearing they would take their jobs and disrupt their quality of life. White people blamed Chinese workers for the growth of syphilis, leprosy, and smallpox. Though poverty, not race, correlates with the spread of diseases. Canada created a Royal Commission on Chinese Immigration and concluded that "Chinese quarters are the filthiest and most disgusting places in Victoria, overcrowded hotbeds of disease and vice, disseminating fever and polluting the air all around” though they knew this wasn’t accurate (The Conversation). This spurred violence like an 1871 massacre of Chinese workers in L.A.’s Chinatown that led to “the largest mass lynching in American history” (L.A. Weekly) as well as the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act in the U.S. and the 1885 Chinese Immigration Act in Canada. These were the first laws for both countries that excluded an entire ethnic group (AAPF).

To this day, the same hateful rhetoric fuels anti-Asian bias in response to the coronavirus.

The outbreak has had a decidedly dehumanizing effect, reigniting old strains of racism and xenophobia that frame Chinese people as uncivilized, barbaric “others” who bring with them dangerous, contagious diseases and an appetite for dogs, cats, and other animals outside the norms of Occidental diets.”

Jenny G. Zhang in Eater

Also, consider efforts to keep Black people and other people of color out of public swimming spaces. Among the racially charged reasons made up to promote segregation was the notion that non-white people were not clean. As a result, pools practiced segregation to maintain this perception of purity. Segregated pools would have swim days for people of color only, and pools would be cleaned before white patrons returned (National Geographic). In 1951, a Little League team came to a public pool to celebrate a championship win. One player, Al Bright, who was Black, was only allowed to be in the pool sitting on a raft under lifeguard supervision so he would not touch the water (NPR). Read more in a previous newsletter.

Mexicans and Mexican Americans were also discriminated against based on false notions of cleanliness. The U.S. perpetuated this stereotype against Mexican people to fuel displacement and unfair labor practices. This sentiment was responsible for justifying an Eisenhower-era campaign that deported as many as 1.3 million undocumented workers, the largest mass deportation in U.S. history (History). The LA Times recently reflected on its role in perpetuating anti-Mexican sentiment. One headline from 1919 read “Watch the dirty Mexican newspapers in this town [...] They ought to be suppressed” (LA Times).

This was also a critical point of the Mendez v. Westminster case in 1947. In 1945, a group of parents sued four school districts in Orange County, CA, for placing their children in “Mexican Schools,” which received far fewer resources than schools for white students. In their defense, school officials claimed Latino students were dirty and carried diseases that put white students at risk. The case went to the Supreme Court, which deemed segregation of Mexican American students unconstitutional and unlawful, ending segregation in all California schools (History).

Stereotypes of cleanliness fuel other forms of discrimination: antisemitismanti-fatness, and discrimination against disabled people, the unhoused, and those with HIV/AIDS. These tropes center whiteness – specifically the whiteness of, wealthy, able-bodied, skinny, cisgender, heterosexual people – as the definition of purity and cleanliness. To dismantle racism we have to deconstruct this narrative.


Key Takeaways


  • Celebrities have been sharing their bathing habits publicly, sparking a conversation on the differences in bathing habits amongst different groups

  • The notion of cleanliness has been used throughout history to further oppress and discriminate against marginalized communities

  • Stereotypes that portray marginalized groups as dirty aim to uphold the idea of the purity and cleanliness of whiteness

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Understand the TikTok strike.

Over the past month, many Black social media creators organized a strike to stop creating and posting dance choreography on the social media app TikTok. The social media app is built around reposting and remixing content from other creators, and a popular feature is learning and recording dances to trending songs. When Black female rapper Megan Thee Stallion released her new song, “Thot Shit,” on June 11, many Black creators agreed not to create choreography.

Good morning and happy Wednesday! Don't overlook the Black creator TikTok strike – it may read as petty social media drama on the surface, but this organized response is a larger declaration for respect and representation in the growing creator economy. Learn more in today's newsletter! And follow us on TikTok if you haven't already.

Thank you for your support! This daily, free, independent newsletter is made possible by your support. Consider making a donation to support our work. You can start a monthly subscription on Patreon or our website, or give one-time using our websitePayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

– Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Learn more about the Black TikToker Strike by following the hashtag #BlackTikTokStrike.

  • Support marginalized creators on social media: use more engagement tools on posts you see from creators you enjoy. Like, comment, share, and save the images and videos that they post.

  • Understand how strikes work and the best way to support them.

  • Consider: What do you know about the origins of your favorite digital trends? I.e your favorite gif, TikTok dance, or meme?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Over the past month, many Black social media creators organized a strike to stop creating and posting dance choreography on the social media app TikTok. The social media app is built around reposting and remixing content from other creators, and a popular feature is learning and recording dances to trending songs. When Black female rapper Megan Thee Stallion released her new song, “Thot Shit,” on June 11, many Black creators agreed not to create choreography. Ironically, the music video for the song in question centers women of color as essential workers and highlights the type of hostility that Black creators experience online.

Get a 1-min breakdown of the issue on the ARD TikTok >

This is because of a growing conversation around compensation and equity for Black people on TikTok. Black creators often are behind the TikTok trends that go viral, but rarely gain recognition; white TikTok users are oftentimes miscredited as creators and gain sponsorships and media recognition (Teen Vogue). Black creators have also been vocal algorithmic censorship of content related to Black Lives Matter last summer, which further increased racial disparities of who’s celebrated on the platform (Time).

But this isn’t a TikTok-specific issue. Much of popular culture today leans heavily on language, dance, and other cultural cues taken directly from the Black community – particularly the Black LGBTQ+ community. From dances to hairstyles, phrases, and music, dominant culture often adopts Black culture and makes it mainstream. And white people, who benefit from more power and privilege in our society, are more likely to gain recognition for echoing these cultural acts – even if they had no hand in creating them. Learn more in a previous newsletter.

Moreover, the Black community still has to fight for their cultural markers to be accepted within culture at the same time as those with power and privilege enjoy them. Consider recent initiatives to allow natural hairstyles in schools (Chalkbeat), or the fight to normalize AAVE as a valid vernacular (Black Youth Project). With this context, it’s clear how a strike on short dance choreography reflects a broader stance on the cultural appropriation of Black culture throughout history.


It’s also important to recognize the role of withholding labor in the history of Black movements. Black people have gone on strike by withholding labor to extract fair compensation since before the Civil War. Consider the Great Railroad Strike of 1877, where over 100,000 railroad workers halted trains and stopped working for over two months in pursuit of better wages and conditions. There’s also the Memphis Sanitation Strike of 1968, where 1,300 Black workers walked off the job, demanding that the city recognize their union, increase wages, and end inhumane conditions. As garbage stacked up across the city streets, the workers never relented, attracting the support of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who visited to show support and delivered his famous “Mountaintop” speech. Learn more in a previous newsletter. And just last year, when players from major league sports stopped playing for 48 hours after the shooting of Jacob Bake, the world took note – and fundamentally shifted how sports leagues respond to social issues (Vox). Their efforts – alongside other labor strikes led by other people of color – didn’t just raise awareness of critical issues, but carved a path for more equitable practices in labor unions altogether (Teen Vogue).

You can argue that TikTok influencers aren’t exactly the same type of wage workers who took part in past strikes. But let’s not overlook the influence of the “creator economy” and those that lead it. As digital communities flourish, nearly 50M people around the world consider themselves creators and receive some type of compensation from their work (Forbes). Creators offer a ton of value by creating content and community that might be inaccessible otherwise, particularly those from marginalized communities that offer an alternative to what’s mainstream. But being a creator is a difficult job with little infrastructure or safety (Teen Vogue). It’s powerful to see creators withholding their labor without that type of support behind them, and advocate for more equitable practices for this burgeoning labor market.

Perhaps this strike will encourage everyone that enjoys content online to reflect and consider: how do we value the creators of the content we consume? What labor may we take for granted – both online and off? And how can the strikes of the past transform our future?


Key Takeaways


Black creators on TikTok are on strike to take a stance against cultural appropriation and lack of credit for the choreography they introduce to the platform

  • Strikes throughout history have been a powerful way to shape perceptions about labor and value

  • Popular culture is rooted in Black cultural markers, but rarely celebrates or protects those that create it


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Fight for Black trans lives.

Trans people, particularly trans people of color, also face disproportionate violence by the police. Trans people are 3.7x more likely to experience police violence – and 7x more likely to experience physical violence when interacting with police – than cisgender victims and survivors (Vox). Over the past year, the tragic stories of Roxanne Moore, Tony McDade, and Layleen Polanco only emphasize the need for reimagining public safety. However, calls for justice were often overlooked in the broader push for Black lives. In reality, the exacerbated violence that trans people experience should be central to how we rally for our collective liberation.

Happy Monday, and welcome back to the ARD! Yesterday marked the second Brooklyn Liberation march for Black trans liberation. Today, I'm emphasizing the importance of centering the Black trans community and other transgender people of color in our fight for racial equity.

Thank you for keeping this independent platform going. In honor of our one year anniversary, become a monthly subscriber on our website or Patreon this week and we'll send you some swag! You can also give one-time on Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), PayPal or our website.

– Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Get educated about the anti-LGBTQ+ legislation happening in your state. Use the tracker provided by the ACLU to stay informed with weekly updates.

  • Donate to Black trans organizations. You can use this website to make a donation that supports multiple organizations or the one(s) nearest you.

  • Amplify content under the hashtag #ProtectTransYouth & #TransYouthPower (follow us on Instagram and Facebook for resources)


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Since the protests began last summer, there have been significant shifts in protecting Black lives. But as the Black Lives Matter movement takes hold across the country (and worldwide), the narrative about the violence against Black trans people often gets left behind.

Over the past few years, violence against the trans community has been rising. Last year at least 44 transgender or gender non-conforming people were killed in the U.S., most Black and Latinx transgender women. And since the beginning of 2021, at least 28 transgender or gender non-conforming people fatally shot or killed by other violent means (Human Rights Campaign). Because so many deaths aren’t reported – or reported with the victims misnamed or misgendered – advocates worry this number is much higher. Last fall, the American Medical Association declared the killings of transgender women of color an “epidemic” (NYTimes).

Trans people, particularly trans people of color, also face disproportionate violence by the police. Trans people are 3.7x more likely to experience police violence – and 7x more likely to experience physical violence when interacting with police – than cisgender victims and survivors (Vox). Over the past year, the tragic stories of Roxanne Moore, Tony McDade, and Layleen Polanco only emphasize the need for reimagining public safety. However, calls for justice were often overlooked in the broader push for Black lives. In reality, the exacerbated violence that trans people experience should be central to how we rally for our collective liberation.

And as this all unfolds, there’s a clear and coordinated attack on trans rights, led by national far-right organizations trying to gain political power by sowing fear and hate. Since January 2021, over 100 anti-transgender bills have been introduced in state legislation, surpassing the record amount from all of 2020 (HRC). These bills are designed to ban transgender youth from participating in sports or receiving gender-affirming healthcare, or expand the ability of individuals and businesses to turn people away from services (PBS). And as a result, they elevate hateful rhetoric that places the LGBTQ+ community in more danger. Learn more in a previous newsletter.

This Pride Month, it’s all the more critical to center the needs of the trans community of color. The movement for racial equity and LGBTQ+ rights are closely intertwined. No one defines that more distinctly than Marsha P. Johnson, a Black, transgender leader who paved the way for Black and LGBTQ+ rights in America. Known as a self-identified drag queen, performer, and survivor, she was a prominent figure in the Stonewall Uprising of June 1969, one of the most important events leading to the gay liberation movement. She, alongside her friend Sylvia Rivera, a legendary transgender activist of Venezuelan and Puerto Rican descent, centered the lives of Black and brown transgender lives throughout their work for decades. Now, as the Black Lives Matter movement forges on, we must too.

What happens is that Black trans people are erased and made invisible in society, but then we actually disappear in our deaths.

Kei Williams, a founding member of the Black Lives Matter global network and a national organizer at the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, in an interview with The Lily.

Last summer, the “Brooklyn Liberation” march for Black trans lives rallied over 15,000 people in the streets of New York City to celebrate Black trans lives, commemorate those who have been lost, and rally for trans liberation – an unprecedented turnout (NYTimes). The second march was held again yesterday. Thanks to the tireless efforts of community organizers and activists, the fight for trans liberation will not be ignored. Together, we can all ensure that their liberation is center in our efforts for racial and LGBTQ+ rights.


Key Takeaways


  • Since the beginning of 2021, at least 28 transgender or gender non-conforming people fatally shot or killed by other violent means (Human Rights Campaign).

  • Since January 2021, over 100 anti-transgender bills have been introduced in state legislation, surpassing the record amount from all of 2020 (HRC).

  • The movement for racial equity and LGBTQ+ rights are closely intertwined.

  • The anti-trans legislation is a part of the violence and discrimination that trans communities experience, particularly trans communities of color and the Black trans community.


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Learn about safe haven communities.

The Freedom Georgia Initiative springs from a “desire to create generational wealth for our families” in a place where “restoration, recreation, and reformation” are possible. The ability to conserve family resources and enjoy ample rest and recreation has been denied to generations of Black families. As an explicitly pro-Black city in an anti-Black nation, Freedom, Georgia hopes to be a new start (Complex).

Happy Monday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily! A special thanks to our members of the military reading this right now.

Friday's email outlined the history of the Tulsa Race Massacre and the importance of paying reparations to acknowledge and account for the devastation and loss that its victims and descendants experienced.

Today is a story about what restoring and rebuilding can look like, highlighting a Black community in Georgia. As you read, consider: what does a safe haven mean for you? What does safety mean for you? And how can we become active members of our community for its growth and development?


Thank you to everyone that makes this work possible. If you want to support, give monthly on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole

ps – some of the Take Action resources we provided in Friday's newsletter didn't work for some of our readers. If you want to take more direct action to support Tulsa, you can sign this petition or make a donation that directly supports survivors and descendants of the massacre.


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

In December, the site of a soon-to-be-built Georgia city quintupled. Earlier that year, jogger Ahmaud Arbery was murdered by white men whose arrests would take two months of protests and public pressure (USA Today). More than a dozen families purchased land to create a new city free of white supremacy in the aftermath of this atrocity. With the December addition, the site of Freedom, Georgia now comprises over 500 acres (Fox 5).

The Freedom Georgia Initiative springs from a “desire to create generational wealth for our families” in a place where “restoration, recreation, and reformation” are possible. The ability to conserve family resources and enjoy ample rest and recreation has been denied to generations of Black families. As an explicitly pro-Black city in an anti-Black nation, Freedom, Georgia hopes to be a new start (Complex).

Ever since Emancipation, Black land and property have been seized, looted, attacked, and, in the case of Tulsa, Oklahoma’s Black Wall Street, firebombed from airplanes (American Prospect) (CNBC). In part, because it’s so hard to build intergenerational wealth without land, the average Black family has only 10% of the wealth of the average white family (USA Today). These practices have inspired generations of resistance. Freedom, Georgia, isn’t the first effort of its kind in the United States. It isn’t even the first initiative of its sort in Georgia.

In 1960, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) started organizing against the disenfranchisement of Black people under Jim Crow laws in the South. But Black farmers who registered to vote in SNCC voting drives faced eviction by white landowners. For many people, homelessness was the price of political participation (New Communities). To learn more about how Black people have been pushed out of farming, see our piece on Agricultural Education.

SNCC co-founder Charles Sherrod and his wife Shirley realized that control of land was an essential part of Black liberation. In 1969, the Sherrods started a collective farm in Lee County, Georgia, where Black people could live and work on community-controlled land without fear of retribution from white landlords. This farm, called New Communities, was the first example of a model of collective land ownership for community benefit called a community land trust.

“It really gave me a sense that I can do anything,” said Bummi Anderson of her childhood growing up in New Communities. “It was a group of people coming together really with the same ideals, the same hopes, and dreams for their children. We were a product of that, and so we grew up having the same sense of pride on who we were as African-Americans” (NPR).

Today, community land trusts preserve collectively-controlled, truly affordable housing across the country (Schumacher Center). New Communities understood that we need control of our homes and neighborhoods to struggle for justice. Today, the Freedom Georgia Initiative is walking a similar road as they plan utility infrastructure before moving onto the design and construction of the new city (Insider).

Co-founder Ashley Scott says that today’s Freedom Georgia Initiative was inspired by the realization that Black life was threatened even in cities with Black mayors and police chiefs, such as Atlanta. Scott says, “It was clear that developing new cities was necessary because these old ones, even with strong Black leadership, have too many deep-rooted problems…We figured we could try to fix a broken system or we could start fresh. Start a city that could be a shining example of being the change you want to see” (Blavity).

Those involved in the Initiative are the first to acknowledge that the road ahead will not be easy. “It is a long game,” Scott told the Insider. “Nothing is changed overnight.” Fighting racism by leaving existing American communities behind entirely to attempt to create a new one from scratch may seem a drastic move. But it’s nothing compared to the ways America has enforced anti-Black racism, exploitation, and death for centuries. From the horrors of chattel slavery to the violence of Jim Crow, from the assassination of civil rights leaders to the police murders and mass incarceration of today, generations of efforts to reform American white supremacy have failed to put it to an end. In the words of scholars Darrick Hamilton and Trevon Logan, “The most just approach would be a comprehensive reparation program that acknowledges these grievances and offers compensatory restitution, including ownership of land and other means of production” (The Conversation). Reforming a society so constitutionally incapable of reckoning with its nature and history may well be more far-fetched than creating a brand-new city from the ground up.


Key Takeaways


  • Families are planning a new, pro-Black city called Freedom, GA.

  • The ability to build intergenerational wealth and safety has long been denied to Black families.

  • There is a rich history of Black liberation movements encompassing housing justice and land sovereignty.


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Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

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Reverse racist land grabs.

In April, the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors voted unanimously to make amends for a massive land grab rooted in white supremacy, though this remedy came almost a century too late (MSN). In the early twentieth century, Charles and Willa Bruce opened a Manhattan Beach resort that offered other Black families the opportunity to vacation under the Southern California sun. The white residents of Manhattan Beach were not pleased.

Good morning and happy Wednesday! Throughout history, communities of color have been forcibly removed from their native lands. But land disenfranchisement continues to this very day. Today, Andrew shares the history of racist land grabs and the importance of paying reparations.


Thank you to everyone that gives a little when they can to keep this newsletter going! If you can, consider giving $7/month on 
Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. This newsletter will continue to be a free resource because of this collective support.

Nicole


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

In April, the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors voted unanimously to make amends for a massive land grab rooted in white supremacy, though this remedy came almost a century too late (MSN). In the early twentieth century, Charles and Willa Bruce opened a Manhattan Beach resort that offered other Black families the opportunity to vacation under the Southern California sun. The white residents of Manhattan Beach were not pleased. The Bruce’s neighbors slashed their tires. The Ku Klux Klan set fire to the resort’s deck. These horrifying acts of white vigilantism weren’t what forced Charles and Willa to leave. In actuality, it was Manhattan Beach itself. The city government condemned the entire neighborhood around Bruce’s Beach. They then seized the resort through eminent domain. Though the city said that they did this to construct a park, this park never materialized. The Bruce family, forced from the city, was compensated only one-fifth of their asking price for the land they were forced to give up.

“This was such an injustice that was inflicted,” said LA County Supervisor Janice Hahn, “not just on Charles and Willa Bruce, but generations of their descendants” (Yahoo News). 

This isn’t just the story of one bad town. We are often taught to think about racism in American housing as only a matter of federal policy, a peculiarity of Southern states before the Civil Rights movement, or a historical injustice whose wrongs have been set right. In reality, none of these things are true. 

It was not just segregated states, but cities and towns across the country, that actively excluded Black, Chinese, or other people of color from white neighborhoods. Some allowed non-white people during the day but prohibited them from staying after dark. There were over 100 of these so-called “sundown towns” in the supposedly progressive state of California alone (Yahoo News). 

And the legacy of racist housing practices lives on. For one thing, the historical robbery of properties like Bruce’s Beach deprives the descendants of the original owners of untold amounts of familial wealth. For another, the sundown towns of the past remain overwhelmingly white to this day. They’re no longer supposed to be able to exclude people of color by law. But in practice, the prevalence of anything from racial slurs (LA Times) to police harassment to private businesses’ refusal to serve Black customers serves the same purpose for these white enclaves. 

The LA County Board of Supervisors endorsement of the return of the Bruces’ land is significant because it could open the door for other Black families’ reimbursement for the historic theft of their property as well. Community organizations recently pressured another California municipality, Glendale, to publicly apologize for its status as a former sundown town. The town of Norman, Oklahoma, did the same (News 9). Things might keep changing, but only if we support community organizations to keep up the fight. 

The fight to return Bruce’s Beach to the family isn’t over. The California State Assembly will now need to pass additional legislation to approve the act. And this fight goes well beyond Manhattan Beach. The belated apologies of other former sundown towns may be meaningful, but they do not serve to compensate those whose ancestors were deprived the right to live within them. Racist housing policies in this country run so deep that the entire state of Oregon once functioned as one large sundown town, with a constitutional provision banning Black people from living or owning property within its borders. This language remained in the state constitution under 2002 (Ballotpedia). Given the way these historical injustices bleed into present-day inequities, Oregon scholar and activist Walidah Imarishi gave the reminder that, “If you believe in freedom, if you believe in justice, if you believe in liberation – now is the time to act” (OPB).

Malcolm X once said in a speech that “land is the basis of all independence. Land is the basis of freedom, justice, and equality” (Rev). Land is not only where we put family businesses; it is the stage of our entire lives. Land is the means by which we build safety and homefulness for our future and the futures of those who will come after us. These are all of the things which white supremacy and white people have stolen from people of color in the United States and it is well past time to right these wrongs. 

We need to reverse racist land grabs.



Key Takeaways


  • Many American cities and towns excluded people of color through laws and intimidation. 

  • The Bruce family is fighting for the return of land a California city once legally stole from their ancestors. 

  • Land theft not only affected its victims but their present-day descendants who lost the familial wealth that land would have helped create. 

  • People of color in the U.S. have been systemically denied access to the security and resources that the land provides.


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Advocate for Black immigrants.

Last week, the Biden administration deported 72 people, including a two-month-old baby and 22 other children, back to Haiti (The Guardian). Advocates for immigrants approximate that over 900 Haitians have been deported in the weeks prior (Washington Post). This, paired with other recent efforts that disproportionately impact Black immigrants, has spurred advocates to call for accountability on the racial disparities in an unjust system.

Happy Monday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. We're drawing attention to the work of several Black-led organizations that are highlighting the racial disparities in our immigration system. Follow their work and amplify within your networks.

Thank you all for your contributions! This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider giving
$7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole


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GET EDUCATED


By Kashea McCowan (she/her)

Last week, the Biden administration deported 72 people, including a two-month-old baby and 22 other children, back to Haiti (The Guardian). Advocates for immigrants approximate that over 900 Haitians have been deported in the weeks prior (Washington Post). This, paired with other recent efforts that disproportionately impact Black immigrants, has spurred advocates to call for accountability on the racial disparities in an unjust system.

Haiti is in the midst of roiling political turmoil. Its president, Jovenel Moïse, is refusing to step down after opposition called for him to step down on February 7 (The Guardian). The United Nations, the Organization of American States, and the Biden Administration all support his plan to remain in office until 2022. However, as protests mount, citizens and human rights activists are worried about the people’s safety. 

Similar unrest threatens other Black immigrants being targeted by ICE. Over 40,000 immigrants from Cameroon are at risk of deportation while the country reels from multiple ongoing conflicts. Activists call for the government to offer these immigrants Temporary Protected Status, abbreviated as TPS (Clinic Legal). A similar effort is underway to protect Black Mauritanian immigrants, who are in fear of returning to a country with rampant “police violence, slavery, human trafficking, genocide, restrictions on free speech and association, discrimination in education and access to citizenship and identity documents, and racism and repression” (Ignatian Solidarity Network).

Furthermore, advocates emphasize that these expulsions are happening amid the pandemic, rising unemployment, and just weeks after the Biden administration pledged to improve immigration policies in their first 100 days. On Friday, the administration announced that they would allow approximately 25,000 migrants who have been waiting for months in Mexico under a program called the Migrant Protection Protocols, or MPP, to enter the U.S. as soon as next week. Lawmakers expressed concern that ICE is “disparately targeting Black asylum-seekers and immigrants for detention, torture, and deportation” (Washington Post).

 

 “

It is unconscionable for us as a country to continue with the same draconian, cruel policies that were pursued by the Trump administration.

Guerline Jozef, Executive Director of Haitian Bridge Alliance, for The Guardian

 There’s historical data that shows the disparities that Black immigrants face. Although most media attention on immigration centered on the Latinx community, RAICES Texas found that 44% of families in detention during the pandemic were Haitian (RAICES Texas).  While 7% of non-citizens in the U.S. are Black, they make up a full 20% of those facing deportation on criminal grounds, even though there’s no evidence that Black immigrants commit crime at greater rates than other immigrants or U.S-citizens (Black Alliance for Just Immigration). While detained, Black immigrants are six times more likely to be sent to solitary confinement (RAICES Texas).

Black families are not just being detained more often, but ICE also makes it more difficult for them to be released. The bond system allows some immigrants in detention to be released if they can pay thousands of dollars in fees. RAICES Texas, which runs a fund that pays for bail on immigrants’ behalf, found that between June 2018 and June 2020, they paid $10,500 per bond payment, on average. But bonds paid for Haitian immigrants by RAICES averaged $16,700, 54% higher than for other immigrants (RAICES Texas).

Last week, several Black activist groups created Black Immigrant Advocacy Week of Action, calling on the Biden administration to recognize and address systemic anti-Black racism in how the government treats immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. Let’s carry that work forward and continue to advocate for Black immigrants.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • The Biden administration is deporting Black immigrants, mainly Haitian, at a time of significant political unrest both here in the U.S. and abroad

  • Black immigrants are disproportionately targeted for deportation and detained

  • The efforts of the Biden administration to improve immigration in the U.S. may be racially-charged, and Black advocacy organizations are calling for accountability


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Support the BAmazon Union.

On Monday, February 8, 5,805 workers at an Amazon facility in Alabama will decide whether they wish to be represented by the Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union. If they vote yes, they would be the first Amazon warehouse in the United States to unionize (Washington Post). The vote-counting is scheduled to be completed by late March. This Black women-led movement is one of the greatest and most significant unionization efforts in recent history.

Happy Thursday, and welcome back. Today I'm spotlighting the unionization efforts happening at an Amazon facility in Bessemer, AL. Their efforts could have a significant impact on not just Amazon but the many companies that thrive off of low-wage workers.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for
$7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole

Ps – yes, I'm aware of the irony of citing the Washington Post in this article, and I'm glad you are too.


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

On Monday, February 8, 5,805 workers at an Amazon facility in Alabama will decide whether they wish to be represented by the Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union. If they vote yes, they would be the first Amazon warehouse in the United States to unionize (Washington Post). The vote-counting is scheduled to be completed by late March. This Black women-led movement is one of the greatest and most significant unionization efforts in recent history.

This organizing has placed the Bessemer, AL facility in the spotlight. The city, a working-class suburb of Birmingham, was once a powerful industrial city called “Marvel City” (Alabama Pioneers). But after steel mills exited the area decades ago, unemployment rates rose. 28% of the population (which is 72% Black) lives under the poverty line (Census.gov). The mayor said it was the largest single investment in the city’s 130-year history (CBS 42). And the jobs, which pay twice as much as the state’s minimum wage, could offer a much-needed boost (NPR).

But, according to a video by More Perfect Union, a media company covering labor issues, employees say that conditions inside are like a sweatshop, and employees are treated “worse than robots (More Perfect Union video). Employees shared more details on conditions to Michael Sainato in his article for The American Prospect
 


'They work you to death,' said Sara Marie Thrasher, who worked as a 'stower,' an employee who stocks items in warehouses before they’re ordered by customers, at Amazon BHM1 [facility] in October and November 2020, before she claimed she was fired via email without warning. 'It’s crowded. Sometimes you can’t even find a station. We would get reprimanded if our stowing time was above 20 seconds or higher, with rates needing to be done in 8 seconds per item' (The American Prospect).

 

These stories reflect thousands of others that employees have shared at Amazon factories across the globe. And many of these stories are not new; here’s reporting on the issue from 2013. But conditions for many workers, including those in Bessemer, have deteriorated since the start of the pandemic. The Bessemer facilities opened in March 2020, and rules started to change quickly as the pandemic worsened. Una Massey, a former level five area manager at the facilities, tells the Guardian that rules changed rapidly weren’t adequately communicated to staff, causing more terminations and leaving the team short-staffed (The Guardian). Massey also stated that a supervisory group called Space Force designed to ensure social distancing would give final warnings to associates that were less than six feet from one another. “But that was so unfair to the associates,” she states, “because there weren’t even enough seats in the lunchroom”  (The Guardian).

In response, Amazon has gone on the offensive. The organization now forces employees to attend anti-union meetings during their shifts (Business Insider) and have plastered anti-union fliers everywhere, including bathroom stalls (Washington Post). Employees are receiving text messages and being targeted with sponsored ads on Facebook linking to the organization’s anti-union website (The Guardian). The organization is also pressing for the upcoming vote to be held in-person instead of through mail ballots, even though we’re still in a pandemic (Washington Post).

Last June, the company was celebrated for making broad statements in support of Black lives (Business Insider). But those words fail to justify their actions. Their gross profitization on the oppression of Black and brown communities is a clear example of racial capitalism, a term coined by Cedric J. Robertson, describing the process of extracting social and economic value from nonwhite communities (Harvard Law). This isn’t just reflected in Amazon’s treatment of its employees, but other aspects of its business: the racial discrimination of its AI and the partnership between their Ring and local law enforcement (The Forge). It also makes an egregious impact on the environment, which we know disproportionately affects communities of color. A September 2019 report released by the organization outlined that, in 2018, it emitted 44.4 million metric tons of carbon dioxide equivalents into the atmosphere – roughly equal to the annual emissions of Norway (Wired).

On Tuesday, February 2, CEO Jeff Bezos announced that he’s stepping down and will be replaced by cloud executive Andy Jassy (CNBC). This news came hours after the story broke that the company will pay $61.7M in fines after stealing a percentage of drivers’ tips (TechCrunch). Since the start of the pandemic, Bezos’ net worth has increased by $70 billion. Progressive International estimated that if Bezos gave every Amazon worker a $105,000 bonus, he’d still be as rich as he was at the start of COVID-19 (Twitter). 


It’s important to remember that even with a new CEO, it’s likely that Amazon’s predatory capitalism will continue to grow. For NPR, RWDSU President Stuart Appelbaum notes that this movement isn’t just a labor struggle, but a civil rights struggle, too (NPR). Supporting this initiative isn’t just a way to honor those bold organizers’ work but stand for more equitable working conditions for all laborers, especially those most vulnerable to racial capitalism. The outcome of this upcoming vote could define the future of Amazon and the labor decisions of thousands of other organizations.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • An Amazon facility in Bessemer, AL is planning to vote next week on unionizing.

  • If completed, this will be the first unionization against Amazon

  • Amazon's inadequate treatment of employees is one form of racial capitalism


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Honor Black History Month with action.

Today marks the beginning of Black History Month in the U.S. Created as Negro History Week in February 1926 by Carter G. Woodson at his organization, the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, this time was designed to encourage “people of all ethnic and social backgrounds discuss the black experience” (ASALH). Congress passed “National Black History Month” into law in 1986, proclaiming that “the foremost purpose of Black History Month is to make all Americans aware of this struggle for freedom and equal opportunity” (Library of Congress).

It's Monday, it's finally February, and we're back with the Anti-Racism Daily. It's also the first day of Black History Month. I touched on this topic in a Study Hall email two Saturdays ago, which I saw people sharing with their community. I figured today was a good day to expand on that, and offer more ways to honor this month beyond education.

If you're looking for more accountability on education, though, I highly recommend 28 Days of Black History, our daily curated guide of works that exemplify the Black legacy. The first work goes out tonight. Sign up here:
28daysofblackhistory.com.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for
$7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Add one of the action items below to your plan this month. Commit to executing on it weekly (if relevant).

  • Consider: How can my community/classroom/organization make a more meaningful impact this Black History Month?

  • As you learn over the next month, share and discuss with your friends and community.


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Today marks the beginning of Black History Month in the U.S. Created as Negro History Week in February 1926 by Carter G. Woodson at his organization, the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, this time was designed to encourage “people of all ethnic and social backgrounds discuss the black experience” (ASALH). Congress passed “National Black History Month” into law in 1986, proclaiming that “the foremost purpose of Black History Month is to make all Americans aware of this struggle for freedom and equal opportunity” (Library of Congress).

However, moving through Black History Month 2021 like it’s merely a learning opportunity misses the mark. This is a year for making the history books, not only for re-reading them. Education is essential, but we have to also take targeted actions to change the course of history. Here are some suggestions.

Address pay inequity.

Racial pay inequity is still an issue across the country. Reports from early 2020 found that the Black-white wealth gap widened in the 2000s (NWLC) and worsening during the pandemic (UC Berkeley). Use this month to solve the pay inequity at your organization. If you’re not in a leadership position to do this, perhaps start by inquiring: what were the findings of the latest pay audit performed by your company? What initiatives were put in place to solve them? 

Review your DEI initiatives.

Ensure your DEI initiatives are actually inclusive. And this goes beyond racial equity. Organizations that strive for racial equity, but don’t prioritize disability equity or LGBTQ rights, for example, aren’t inclusive. This is one of many reasons that DEI can fail to fix corporate culture (Catapult).

Give.

Donate monthly to organizations that center Black wellbeing. Prioritize organizations that have Black executive leaders and Black board members (Non-Profit Quarterly). Think beyond traditional 501c3 to local, grassroots initiatives – including mutual aid networks. You can also donate physical goods (like food or clothing) or your time (skills-based volunteering, transportation, etc.).

Mentor.

Invest in the next generation of leaders in your field through a fellowship or mentorship program. You can do this individually or create/enhance a program at your office. Remember that mentorships are a two-way relationship. You likely have as much, or more, to learn from your mentees or fellows than you may think. Note: mentorships and fellowships should only be implemented in addition to other employment equity initiatives, like achieving pay equity or increasing the number of Black senior executives, not in place of them. Alone, it can cause more harm than good.

Rally.

Change isn’t created in silence. Continue showing up at protests and other demonstrations as best as you can. This includes protesting physically in the streets and/or providing essential services to protestors on the ground. This can also include consistently sharing action items on social media and defending protestors through advocating for legislation and donating to bail funds and other emerging needs. More resources for supporting protests can be found here.

Pay reparations.

Reparations are necessary for achieving racial equity (Brookings). On an individual level, pay it forward to creators you learn from on social media or organizers in your community. On a local level, find the local or state initiative advocating for reparations and support for their work. In addition, I recommend completing the Reparations Now Tool Kit created by the Movement for Black Lives to create a comprehensive plan. 


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Black History Month was started by Carter G. Woodson as Negro History Week in February 1926.

  • The disproportionate impact of the pandemic on the Black community only widens the racial disparities evident in the U.S.

  • Use this month not just to educate, but do your part to accelerate racial equity in the U.S.


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Respect space for Black life.

Though the 13th Amendment abolished slavery and made involuntary servitude illegal within the U.S., it managed to preserve slavery in another form; penal labor (Center for Human Rights Education). Under Section 1 of the law:

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction” (Crime Report, Find Law). As written and in practice, the amendment creates a class system that allows convicted members of society to be exploited against their will (The Nation).

Happy Sunday! And welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily.

A few years ago, I was at a conference and remember talking to an architect who was studying the disparities of space, per square foot, that Black people are allocated compared to the white community – from affinity spaces on college campuses, square footage of houses, even the average space allotted to each person in a workplace. I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I was overjoyed to see darryl's submission analyzing this topic further. I hope you find some insight from this too.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for 
$7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

ps – tomorrow we kick-off 28 Days of Black History, a digital curation of Black work. One work will be sent via email each evening in February. The update profile situation Mailchimp provides didn't work for half of our audience yesterday, so if you want to join in, simply add your email here: 28daysofblackhistory.com/ard  Yes, I know it's annoying that I have your email and have to ask for it again. Mailchimp won't let us be great :(


Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Respect space for BIPOC – including their pastimes / extracurricular activities, wellness classes, affinity groups, and spiritual circles. 

  • For allies, ask yourself: How you can invite people into spaces where they are traditionally not welcome? How else can you ensure those spaces are preserved using your power and privilege.

  • Read Black Fatigue: How Racism Erodes the Mind, Body and Spirit by Mary Frances Winters to further understand the harmful effects of racism.

  • Support therapy initiatives for the Black community, like Black Men Heal and Therapy for Black Girls.


GET EDUCATED


By Juan Michael Porter II (he/him)

Last June, demonstrators, mostly Black, peacefully marched on Capitol Hill to protest police violence (Washington Post). As demonstrators held signs and chanted slogans denouncing racial violence, they were met with tear gas and sting balls. Earlier this month, mostly white people, wearing MAGA hats and Trump clothing, broke windows and doors, and assaulted uniformed police officers before storming into the Capitol Hill building during a session of Congress (NY Times). The stark contrast between the agency granted to white people – and the limited mobility of Black lives – has harmful effects on Black people. 

 

The daily anxiety linked to the threat of violent encounters with police can cause psychological stress. In Mary-Frances Winters’ Black Fatigue: How Racism Erodes the Mind, Body and Spirit, she calls this race-based traumatic stress injury. I would argue that at the center of race-based traumatic stress injury is race-based geography--the trauma caused by the limits of Black physical space.   

Controlling and limiting space is imperative to exercising power over Black lives. During slavery, enslaved Africans’ geography was confined to slave auctions, slave ships, slave quarters, and plantations. The enslaved were also falsely diagnosed with drapetomania, runaway slave syndrome (EJI.org). By limiting the physical, and mental, mobility of enslaved Africans, white supremacists were able to establish a legal society that excluded Black life. 

Following slavery, racial barriers placed many formerly enslaved back on plantations as sharecroppers, sometimes working the same fields they were enslaved on (PBS). During the 1950s, as the segregated Jim Crow era came to a close, Black people managed to carve out a life in major cities across the U.S. 

Despite this progress, Black communities still had limited mobility. Following the second wave of the Great Migration (1940-1970), Black people were regulated to their side of the tracks (African American Intellectual Historical Society). Laws, job ceilings, and housing covenants dictated where Black people could live and how much they could earn on their jobs. Many cities were still too racist and dangerous for Black people to travel to (for more about sundown towns, check out our previous newsletter). Living under the thumb of limited agency, and working with the understanding that, as minorities, one has to work twice as hard as a whites, is a heavy burden that can cause internalized oppression, low-self esteem, and self-doubt, among other issues (Black Fatigue: How Racism Erodes the Mind, Body and Spirit). 

Richard Wright’s celebrated narrative Native Son does a brilliant job detailing how limited space affects Black lives. Wright’s opus commences with the Thomas family waking up in a wooden floor kitchenette. The main character, Bigger Thomas, endures his mother singing a melody about being brave, which bothers Bigger. The thought of being a poor Black man living in a small kitchenette with his family seeps into Bigger’s psyche, leading him to question his worthiness.  Bigger grows frustrated when asked by his mother if he would accept a job offer from a wealthy white family. Bigger’s anger is connected to his exclusion from white space, yet he has to rely on a white family in order to sustain a living (Native Son). 

Less than a decade after the publication of Native Son, President Harry S. Truman signed the 1949 Housing Act (Truman Library). New, affordable housing seemed promising to Black families living in kitchenettes, shotgun houses, or multiple families sharing one house. But the construction of federally funded housing came with furtive forms of carceral power, such as surveillance cameras, curfews, police raids, onsite court, and metal detectors, as well as prison-like bars that covered windows, doors, and linked buildings throughout the housing projects. 

Living in government-controlled spaces, which are constructed like prisons, can psychologically prepare Black people for jail. As activist and author, George Jackson writes in Soledad Brothers: “Being born a slave in a captive society, I was prepared for prison. It only required minor adjustments.” Braving oneself for life in jail leads to a combative mindset, which for Black people, places them under stereotypes of being contentious.  

Also, colleges and universities have struggled with creating safe spaces for minority students. “Schools who are serious about creating safe spaces and fostering conversations around diversity need to give faculty the appropriate training and tools,” writes Emily Deruy (The Atlantic).

The lack of agency and freedom of movement Black people experience in their communities can also help explain why geography is important to gang members. Men who are locked out of jobs, stagnated at low-paying job sites, or have limited control inside their homes – as seen with Bigger Thomas – may exercise destructive ideals of masculinity outside of the home by controlling blocks, streets, parks, or entire neighborhoods. Living under the control of local, state and federal power can impel gang members to exercise patriarchal behavior through gang leadership and to exert dominance through territory (Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics).  

Race-based geography is also part of the prison industrial complex (The Atlantic). Created in Rikers Island Prison in 1993 as a way for Black detainees to protect themselves from the dominant Latin Kings, New York City’s Bloods gang has morphed into one of the most widespread gangs in the United States (Public Intelligence). Today, Bloods dominate Rikers Island, but the gang employs some of the same geographical barriers on non-gang members as Latin Kings placed on them prior to the Bloods formation. 

The joint effort between local, state and federal government to implement job ceilings, heavy policing, racial violence, discriminatory laws, and limited movement harms Black life and Black communities. Recently, Oakland, Calif. implemented “Slow Streets,” a program that restricts the movement of vehicles on 74 miles of residential streets, which mirrors the role infrastructure has played in upholding racism (Washington Post). “Slow Streets'' follows the disturbing historical narrative of limiting Black mobility (Bloomberg City Lab). 

For months, Black people have withstood rants from Trump about Antifa and Black Lives Matter. Yet nothing that these former groups have done remotely compares to the insurrection on Capitol Hill (Washington Post). How do Black people process the unfairness in Breonna Taylor losing her life while asleep in her home, yet white rioters are allowed to run rampant on Capitol Hill? 

If the U.S. was to strip these mobility limitations, spaces – such as universities, corporate America, and in the presence of police officers – would no longer hinder Black life. Freedom of agency would also close the wealth gap, which is roughly as large as it was in 1950, and build healthy relationships and trust between people of power, medical officials, and police authority (New York Times). 


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • The daily anxiety linked to the threat of violent encounters with police can cause psychological issues.

  • The possibility of encountering violent police officers, discriminated against, or experiencing racial encounters can cause anger, aggression, and defensiveness in Black people. 

  • The lack of agency Black experience in their communities can also help explain why geography is important to gang members.


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Support Black farmers.

155 years. 64 trillion dollars.

That’s how long the families of 4 million enslaved Black people have been waiting for their 40 acres and a mule since stewarding land in the antebellum U.S. That’s how much money this property is worth. A promise often cited but never fulfilled.

As society reckons with compensating this missing generational wealth, today’s Black farmers still struggle to get and maintain their acreages. Black farmers “were a major agricultural force in the 19th and 20th centuries” (Modern Farmer). Ironically, this height of Black husbandry occurred in what Black historian Rayford Logan coined “The Nadir,” the period between 1890 and 1918 – some African American scholars extend the era to 1930 – when progress toward racial equity reached its lowest point.

Happy Sunday. Today we're joined by Andrea to look at the history of Black farmers in the U.S. I really enjoyed diving into the history of our migration across the country, and understanding the nuances of land ownership. I used to live on a farm, and miss that relationship to the earth. I hope you enjoy!

Are you following us on 
Instagram? We'll be hosting a conversation with Deepa Iyer on finding your role in movement work on Tuesday, January 19 at 1p EST. We're gathering questions in advance over on the ARD community. 

And thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider making a 
monthly or annual subscription on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our websitePayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). 

Nicole


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Andrea Plaid (she/her)

155 years. 64 trillion dollars.

That’s how long the families of 4 million enslaved Black people have been waiting for their 40 acres and a mule since stewarding land in the antebellum U.S. That’s how much money this property is worth. A promise often cited but never fulfilled. 

 

As society reckons with compensating this missing generational wealth, today’s Black farmers still struggle to get and maintain their acreages. Black farmers “were a major agricultural force in the 19th and 20th centuries” (Modern Farmer). Ironically, this height of Black husbandry occurred in what Black historian Rayford Logan coined “The Nadir,”  the period between 1890 and 1918 – some African American scholars extend the era to 1930 – when progress toward racial equity reached its lowest point. 

 

The U.S. government signed the Homestead Act of 1862 and the Civil Rights Act of 1866, which solidified the citizenship of newly emancipated Black people. These two laws gave Black people legal rights to claim 160 acres for a nominal fee, a deed, and if they stayed on the land for five years (Aeon). Most of them staked their claims on Southern lands under a corollary to the Homestead Act called the Southern Homestead Act (SHA) of 1866. This “land hunger,” as W.E.B. DuBois called it, drove approximately 200,000 Black people to own 20 million acres of land in the South and the West by the 1910s, in the midst of the Nadir (Mother Jones). 14% of that land was in Mississippi (The Atlantic). 

Some of the manumitted Black folks did not stay in the South. Instead, they sought their literal and figurative 40 acres in what’s referred to as “the American West,” but is actually where the government stole Indigenous people’s lands in its expansionist efforts. Famously known as the Exodusters, approximately 3,500 Black people – out of the millions who were freed and several thousand who moved west – were able to claim 650,000 acres of this land. Including their families, about 15,000 Black people lived in these homesteads (National Park Service). By the 1920s, the number of Black farmers peaked at 949,889, with their owning 15 million acres across the U.S (The Guardian). 

 

In response, white supremacy redoubled its efforts to divest these farmers of their acreage and their livelihoods. 

 
In practice, the Homestead Act and the SHA were insufficient to support freed African Americans through the bureaucratic process. It also often provided unfarmable land and never included the money to pay the filing fee (PBS). A few of the newly freed Black people, particularly Black men, ended up sharecropping or in chain gangs. According to The Atlantic, “even the most enterprising black landowners found themselves fighting a war of attrition, often fraught with legal obstacles that made passing title to future generations difficult.”

 

Ultimately, out of the 28,000 that filed for land patents, only about 5,500 Black people actually received them (Aeon). In contrast, the Homestead Act and the SHA ultimately gave away 270 million acres to 1.6 million U.S.-born and immigrant white people. As of 2000, 46 million of these people – about a quarter of the U.S. population – are descendants of these landowners  (Aeon).

White nationalist organizations like the Ku Klux Klan – some of whom were on city councils and law enforcement – forced many Black farmers off their land because, in some cases, the farmers’ growing wealth from their work offended the white townspeople’s sense of racial superiority. In other cases, the white people wanted the land itself. (Los Angeles Times)

The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) aided and abetted in further depriving Black farmers of land and livelihood. The all-white department, which fortified its efforts to bolster American agriculture under the New Deal’s Farm Bill of 1933, routinely excluded the farmers by denying them loans or colluding with banks and land developers to steal the land (Modern Farmer). They also forced farmers off their rightful property and treated the farmers with openly disdainful hostility when they sought their services (The Counter). Between 1930 and 1950, Black husbandry “declined by 37%...and black tenants and [sharecroppers] declined by 32%” as this new iteration of the USDA and its policies favored corporate farming. This drove Black farmers out of business and off their lands, which accelerated the Great Migration, where Black communities moved into urban communities (Rosenberg and Wilson Stucki).

However, Black farmers resisted. The National Black Farmers Association and other African American agricultural landowners organized and sued the USDA in 1999 for racial discrimination, stating that “the department denied them access to federal farm-operating loans, disaster payments, information on farm programs, technical assistance, and other support that the agency is mandated by law to provide low-income farmers” (Yes Magazine). The USDA settled that case, known as Pigford v. Glickman, that year for $1 billion, with Congress appropriating more money to compensate for the farmers who filed late. This action, called Pigford II, brought the total to $1.25 billion in 2010 (Yes Magazine). However, The Counter investigated that this victory was, at best, a hollow one.
 

Even with these actions, only 45,508 Black farmers remain as of 2019. They own only 0.52 percent of U.S. agricultural acres and earn, on average, $40,000 per year, compared to their white counterparts’ average yearly income of over $190,000 (The Guardian). The old towns and homesteads settled by the Exodusters are fading away (Washington Post). Today’s reality is, according to NPR, “farmland is expensive, and farm real estate prices have been on the rise since 1969.” This means “young Black farmers with student debt or low credit scores face more challenges accessing the credit needed to put a down payment on viable land for farming” (NPR). The coronavirus pandemic is further devastating this population; many Black farmers, who tend to have smaller operations, have been left out of the billions of dollars in relief funds (100 Days in Appalachia).

 

Still, some African Americans, including younger people, find their way back to agricultural stewardship and find a way to give back to their communities. In the 1990s, Chicago media mentioned The Black Farmers Markets, which explicitly connected this segment of land cultivators with Black customers in the face of white hostility in the “traditional” farmers markets. (The Counter) This organization works in coalition with a vibrant network of other food-justice, racial-justice, and farm-justice groups such as the National Black Food & Justice Alliance, Soil Generation, and Community Food Lab and agricultural communities such as Soul Fire Farms and Black Dirt Farm Collective. 

 

The U.S. government – through the USDA – wants another chance to rectify its devastation. Senators Cory Booker, Elizabeth Warren, and Kirsten Gillibrand co-sponsored the Justice for Black Farmers Act released on November 30 (Mother Jones). The new bill will allot $8 billion to buy land to give to Black farmers. It will also give money to “agriculturally based” historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and other nonprofits to help them assist the USDA in finding land to purchase for the farmers, and provide the resources to support new Black farmers and Black agricultural collectives. 

Black lives matter – including the lives and livelihoods of the Black farmers who literally feed us. We need to return the favor.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Black farmers in the United States have a long, proud, and devastating history of landownership and in starting and maintaining a sustainable livelihood. 

  • Black farmers played a significant role in U.S. agriculture in the 19th and 20th centuries, especially during The Nadir, the lowest point in U.S. race relations.

  • Black farmers resisted land-grabs and racial discrimination on the federal and local levels.


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Charlie Lahud-Zahner Nicole Cardoza Charlie Lahud-Zahner Nicole Cardoza

Unpack the appropriation of streetwear culture.

As much as we’d all love to think our sense of style is unique and that you were into hightops before they were cool, fashion and what’s fashionable doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Maybe you really are a trailblazing fashionista, but the reality is that what’s in and what’s hot is often part of a continual trend of commodifying Black culture (Medium). “Streetwear” apparel and sneakers have undergone a mass appropriation from the counterculture of hip-hop fashion to the default style of dress for young people trying to stay fresh.

Happy Tuesday! Wishing you an easeful morning. Today, Charlie takes over the newsletter to unpack how streetwear culture is often appropriated without appreciation, and unpacks how street cred can be simultaneously bought and discriminated against – depending on who wears the clothes.

Also, 
we've officially launched our virtual community! This space is designed for you to connect with others, share resources, hold conversations around our newsletters, and sign up for events. All proceeds support our work. Flexible payment options are available. Patreon subscribers: check Patreon for an access link using your existing subscription.

I really hope to see you there! If you're more of an email reader, no worries. Nothing is changing here. As always, you can support our work by making a one-time gift on our 
website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).


Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Watch Fresh Dressed, a 2015 documentary tracing the history of hip-hop fashion from its birth in New York City to global commodification. Available on Amazon PrimeYouTubeGoogle Play, and other streaming services.

  • Buy clothing and shoes that are Black-owned and/or rooted in Black communities. Start local, or use the guide at the bottom of the article for shoes and sneakers. 


GET EDUCATED


By Charlie Lahud-Zahner (he/him)

As much as we’d all love to think our sense of style is unique and that you were into hightops before they were cool, fashion and what’s fashionable doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Maybe you really are a trailblazing fashionista, but the reality is that what’s in and what’s hot is often part of a continual trend of commodifying Black culture (Medium). “Streetwear” apparel and sneakers have undergone a mass appropriation from the counterculture of hip-hop fashion to the default style of dress for young people trying to stay fresh.

Ironically, most of the popular slang that comes to mind for looking good—fly, fresh to death, dipped, clean, on point, on fleek—-were appropriated from Black culture (Vox). For a more concrete look at the cultural appropriation of hip-hop fashion, look at the history of the white Nike Air Force 1, a sneaker once deeply integrated into basketball and hip-hop culture are now creased and championed by Kendall Jenner and social media influencers alike (TeenVogue).

These days Billie Eilish might be seen as the first person to make XXL cool, but that’s not even close to true: Oversized sweatshirts, oversized pants, loud monochromatic outfits predate her by 40 years. And while celebrities like Eilish and Eminem can wear baggy clothing without question, others who wear the same outfits risk being stereotyped as “unprofessional” or “dangerous.” In 2005, as mainstream hip-hop fashion began to enter the league, the NBA implemented a dress code indirectly targeting Black athletes by banning baggy clothes, jewelry, and durags. Coach Phil Jackson supported the rule and described the style associated with hip-hop as “prison garb and thuggery” (Sportscasting). 

Origin stories are nebulous at best, but most hip-hop historians agree that the birth of hip-hop can be traced to DJ Kool Herc rapping over a beat in the 1973 Bronx (PBS). As a genre emerging from funk, soul, and R&B, hip-hop was music made by and for Black people. For instance, the content of Gil Scott Heron’s 1971 song “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” a precursor to hip-hop, evolved from the 60s Black Power movement and defined revolution not just as a movement refusing to be commodified, but as a specifically non-white phenomenon. Cut to the present, hip-hop is a growing global industry (Forbes) and Machine Gun Kelly exists.

And the mentalities of hip-hop fashion and hip-hop were necessarily intertwined: Both were Black cultural movements expressing themselves in spaces where they were excluded (Fresh Dressed).

“In so many ways, hip-hop is a reflection of society and environment, wherein folks who are denizens of the culture, do not see themselves, do not see themselves in mainstream culture,” said Sacha Jenkins, director of Fresh Dressed. “So they say, ‘How can we see ourselves in our own terms while borrowing the things we appreciate — even if these brands don’t appreciate us?’” (LA Times).

This was especially true for sneakers. Notably, the Nike Air Force One, the most recognizable silhouette in sneaker culture, shifted from being named after New York City’s Harlem (the Uptowns) to being associated with pastel Hydro Flasks and Polaroid cameras.

First developed in 1982, the AF1 used to look like a heavy hi-top hiking shoe and was the first basketball shoe with new “Nike Air” technology (Complex). The shoe became popular in New York City and the tri-state among ballplayers and, eventually, anyone in the know (Nike). Basketball and hip-hop have always had a close relationship--so much so it’s common to see NBA players try their hands at rap at some point in their career (Complex).

Eventually, the shoe became an integral part of hip-hop fashion and hip-hop. References to the white-on-white shoe can be heard in New York’s own by Jay-Z in “Can I Live II”, and most famously by St. Louis rapper Nelly in “Air Force Ones.”

That’s where I first heard about the shoes: Nelly, an artist and producer who rose to fame in the early 2000s whom I knew as the guy with the bandaid on his face that sang “Heart of a Champion”, was a big fan of the chunky shoes at Foot Locker. Fast forward to 2018 and I bought my first pair, all grey winterized SF AF1s with buckles and straps. And, much to my delight, I received many undeserved compliments.

Why were they cool though? Not because I wore them, but because I, along with other consumers, benefited from dipping our feet into the cultural cache of hip-hop fashion. At first, I justified the purchase because I’m not white, yet the fact remained I got to be cool because I appropriated Black culture and walked out of the Buffalo Exchange.

Sneaker culture’s gentrification has changed the hobby to a mainstream industry of online sneaker drops, and reselling for profit (Complex). Sites like StockX treat shoes like investments with the potential to appreciate in value. According to the New York Times, the sneaker/streetwear resell business is currently around $2 billion dollars and expected to reach $6 billion by 2025. However, none of the popular resale sites, who claim a percentage of each sale, such as StockX, GOAT, Stadium Goods, etc., are Black-owned and the footwear industry as a whole is predominately white: At Nike, which has a brand value of nearly $35 billion (Statista), only 16% of the upper-level managers are non-white (Portland Business Journal).

White-owned companies like Nike, Adidas, and Puma continue to flourish as vendors of Black culture, but there are alternatives. Despite not having the same staying power, Black-owned sneaker companies still exist and are available anywhere thanks to the internet. Buying from a Black-owned sneaker/shoe company is worth it because A.) you’re supporting a Black-owned business, and B.) you’ll actually get to wear something that is unique.

My favorites include Etsy-based ML Neiks Design Studio which specializes in women’s athleisure, and Harlem-based Ninety-Nine Products who make a running shoe which I plan on buying (for myself) this holiday season. For a longer list of Black-owned sneakers click here or here for women’s style shoes. 


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Hip-hop and hip-hop fashion are a product of Black culture, that, like many aspects of Black culture have been appropriated for mainstream consumption.

  • The white Nike Air Force 1 is an example of this appropriation. Once nicknamed after New York City’s Harlem neighborhood, this shoe has become a mainstream staple and a symbol of sneaker culture’s gentrification.

  • Rather than contributing to white owned brands profiting from Black culture, buy sneakers/shoes from Black owned businesses. 


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Support Black-owned businesses: Bookstores

Each Friday for the rest of the year, we’ll be featuring Black-owned businesses to support this holiday season. Today, we’re centering books written by people of color that you can order from Black-owned bookstores from across the U.S. We always recommend supporting a local business near you before using this list, so these are just suggestions! Read why supporting Black-owned businesses is so critical, especially with the economic challenges we're experiencing. Key takeaways in today's newsletter reference some of these stats.

Happy BLACK Friday!

Each Friday for the rest of the year, we’ll be featuring Black-owned businesses to support this holiday season. Today, we’re centering books written by people of color that you can order from Black-owned bookstores from across the U.S. We always recommend supporting a local business near you before using this list, so these are just suggestions!  Read 
why supporting Black-owned businesses is so critical, especially with the economic challenges we're experiencing. Key takeaways in today's newsletter reference some of these stats.
 

This list is designed around the recommendations we centered in last week’s newsletter on diversifying your bookshelf. Let me know if you get one of these book!
 

Thank you to everyone that makes this newsletter possible! Support our work by making a one-time contribution on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com. You can share this newsletter and unlock some fun rewards by signing up here. I'm grateful for each one of you that's with me on this journey.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Commit to buying one gift this holiday season (for yourself or others) from a Black-owned business

  • Identify something you're looking to purchase before the end of the year, and search for three Black-owned alternatives


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Matter

Denver, CO

Find books, stationery, home goods and other curated gifts from independent, Black & woman-owned retail space for designers, activists & other thinking persons.

Elatsoe
Darcie Little Badger
$19
Elatsoe lives in this slightly stranger America. She can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. The picture-perfect facade of Willowbee masks gruesome secrets, and she will rely on her wits, skills, and friends to tear off the mask and protect her family. Illustrated by Rovina Cai.
SHOP >

Last Stop on Market Street
Matt de la Peña
$19 "This energetic ride through a bustling city highlights the wonderful perspective only grandparent and grandchild can share, and comes to life through Matt de la Peña’s vibrant text and Christian Robinson’s radiant illustrations.
SHOP >


Elizabeth's Bookshop & Writing Centre

Denver, CO

Elizabeth's Bookshop & Writing Centre is an innovative literacy center based in Akron, OH. Their catalog highlights the work of writers who are often excluded from traditional cultural, social and academic canons. This was created by Rachel Cargle, a renowned academic and educator whose work we feature frequently in this newsletter. A percentage of all sales go to The Loveland Foundation to support their mission of making mental healthcare accessible for Black women and girls.

Here The Whole Time
Vitor Martins
$17.47
"The charm and humor of To All the Boys I've Loved Before meets Dumplin' in this body-positive YA love story between two boys who must spend 15 days living with each other over school break."
SHOP >

With the Fire on High
Elizabeth Acevedo
$17
"Ever since she got pregnant freshman year, Emoni Santiago's life has been about making the tough decisions--doing what has to be done for her daughter and her abuela. The one place she can let all that go is in the kitchen, where she adds a little something magical to everything she cooks, turning her food into straight-up goodness."
SHOP >


People Get Ready


New Haven, CT

People Get Ready is a neighborhood bookspace that is grounded in respect for the dignity of all beings, the importance of reciprocal relations, and the transformative power of radical love.

King and the Dragonflies
Kacen Callender
$18 "In a small but turbulent Louisiana town, one boy's grief takes him beyond the bayous of his backyard, to learn that there is no right way to be yourself."
SHOP >

The Vanishing Half
Brit Bennett
$27
"From The New York Times-bestselling author of The Mothers, a stunning new novel about twin sisters, inseparable as children, who ultimately choose to live in two very different worlds, one black and one white."
SHOP >


Black Garnet Books


Twin Cities, MN

Black Garnet Books is a Black, woman-owned bookstore located in the Twin Cities, Minnesota, primarily stocking Adult and YA contemporary literature by Black and racially-diverse authors.

Transcendent Kingdom [Audiobook]
Yaa Gyasi
$28
"Yaa Gyasi's stunning follow-up to her acclaimed national best seller Homegoing is a powerful, raw, intimate, deeply layered novel about a Ghanaian family in Alabama. Narrated by Bahni Turpin."
SHOP >

Leave The World Behind
Rumaan Alam
$24.14
"A magnetic novel about two families, strangers to each other, who are forced together on a long weekend gone terribly wrong."
SHOP >


The Lit. Bar

Bronx, NY

“Once upon a time, a girl from the Bronx had big dreams of opening an independent bookstore/wine bar right here at home. It would be the only indie bookstore in the entire borough–home to 1.4 million people and 10 colleges and it would be called The Lit. Bar…”

God-Level Knowledge Darts: Life Lessons from the Bronx
Desus & Mero
$24
Desus Nice and The Kid Mero are multitalented comedians, writers, and podcasters who currently co-host Showtime's first-ever late-night talk show, Desus & Mero, as well as the long-running Bodega Boys podcast. Their book reflects on their life experiences.
SHOP >

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women That a Movement Forgot
Mikki Kendall
$23.92
"A potent and electrifying critique of today's feminist movement announcing a fresh new voice in Black feminism."
SHOP >


KEY TAKEAWAYS



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Olivia Harden Nicole Cardoza Olivia Harden Nicole Cardoza

Respect the Black Panther Party.

I went to a predominantly white high school, and one thing I’ve noticed is that Black history is typically represented in the background. The Civil Rights Movement was condensed into one chapter in my American history textbook, only including the names of “peaceful” leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks. In fact, in 2015, statistics showed that “1 to 2 lessons or 8–9 percent of total class time is devoted to Black history in U.S. history classrooms” (SocialStudies.org). But these narratives tend to leave out important parts of history like the Black Panther Party.

Happy Sunday! As I've watched conversations on the Michigan domestic terrorism plot, and the armed groups showing up at protests, I'm reminded of how different the narrative of the Black Panther Party was in the 1960s. Olivia joins us today to share her perspective on how race influences how our country responds to movements for liberation, and its impact on the perception of the BPP.

You can help our work thrive! Make a one-time or monthly contribution:

ps – the Anti-Racism Daily Podcast is here! I'll be hosting conversations on the most impactful ways to take action around critical current events, and interviewing inspiring changemakers. Listen to the trailer on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Olivia Harden (she/her)

I went to a predominantly white high school, and one thing I’ve noticed is that Black history is typically represented in the background. The Civil Rights Movement was condensed into one chapter in my American history textbook, only including the names of “peaceful” leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks. In fact, in 2015, statistics showed that “1 to 2 lessons or 8–9 percent of total class time is devoted to Black history in U.S. history classrooms” (SocialStudies.org).  But these narratives tend to leave out important parts of history like the Black Panther Party (BPP). 

 

The BPP, no doubt, has a complicated and violent history. The story of its growth includes shootouts with police officers, political imprisonment, and insidious government surveillance (San Francisco Chronicle). But the United States government vilified the organization from its conception, informing the narrative that we have today. As our world attunes itself to addressing police brutality and murders, the history of the organization’s ideology and its legacy can inform current cries for change and revolution.

 

In 1966, Matthew Johnson, an unarmed Black teenager, was shot down by a police officer – sparking outrage in the same way George Floyd and Breonna Taylor’s killings have this year  (History). That October, Huey Newton, and Bobby Seale founded the Black Panther Party for Self Defense in Oakland, CA (History). They used the advantage of the Second Amendment and the open-carry law in California at the time to patrol the police, watching from a safe distance while carrying rifles to intimidate officers into following the law. In response to this, Ronald Regan and the statehouse passed the Mulford Act in 1967, prohibiting the open carry of loaded firearms (History).

 

This image tends to define the BPP – Black militants with huge afros, black leather jackets, and berets carrying huge rifles and other guns openly in the street. But what more people need to know is that the Black Panther Party for Self Defense was created to be an organization in service to the Black community. They made a Ten-Point Program to stop racism and protect and liberate Black Americans (BLM Syllabus). The Ten-Point Program denounces capitalism and demands things like guaranteed employment, housing, expansive education, healthcare, and the end of police brutality. Many of these asks are the same calls-to-action that activists are fighting for today.

 

The Black Panther Party also created many of its own social programs. A big hit was the free breakfast program for Black children (History). Studies have shown that kids who eat breakfast are generally healthier and do better in schools (No Kid Hungry). The Panthers would feed children before school for free. At its peak, it reached thousands of children daily. Other programs included free clinics, sickle cell anemia research, and free ambulance services (Insider). 

 

Parallels exist between the present-day Black Lives Matter movement and the Black Panther movement’s goal of liberation. The treatment of the Black Lives Matter movement in the media and by the government is tightly intertwined too. At the time, J. Edgar Hoover used the FBI's COINTELPRO to "expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize using tactics like tapping party members phones and infiltration" (fbi.gov). Present-day, police forces track activists’ movements, both online (CNN) and by using facial recognition technology (The Verge). Ninety-three percent of protests were peaceful this summer, but violent ones received more media attention (Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project).  A question that continues to pop up for me – should the state have a monopoly on violence? I challenge you to ask yourself, are buildings more important than Black lives?

 

Race often informs the way the United States responds to an issue. For example, the NRA supported the Mulford Act decision in 1967 (History). But today, the organization is adamant for loose restrictions related to gun ownership, despite the rise of school shootings and gun-related violence across the U.S. (Forbes). The organization’s actions indicate how society views which citizens are allowed to wield power and protest in modern-day times. 

 

Point 5 of the BPP’s Ten-Point Plan is as follows: 

“WE WANT DECENT EDUCATION FOR OUR PEOPLE THAT EXPOSES THE TRUE NATURE OF THIS DECADENT AMERICAN SOCIETY. WE WANT EDUCATION THAT TEACHES US OUR TRUE HISTORY AND OUR ROLE IN THE PRESENT-DAY SOCIETY. We believe in an educational system that will give to our people a knowledge of the self. If you do not have knowledge of yourself and your position in society and in the world, then you will have little chance to know anything else.”

Education about Black people in American history is not just for Black people. It’s crucial for all of us. A comprehensive approach is key to moving forward towards a just future.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • The Black Panther Party does have a violent past, but its goals laid out a plan to support and uplift Black people.

  • The Black Panther Party for Self Defense’s complex past can inform our future.

  • The U.S. must be held accountable for its racist past.


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Juan Michael Porter II Nicole Cardoza Juan Michael Porter II Nicole Cardoza

Make the outdoors more equitable.

Last month I wrote an essay in Outdoors cataloging my negative encounters with white people who "didn't expect to see me”: a Black man hiking Mt. Katahdin, the highest peak in Maine and a favorite destination of extreme hikers. During my many visits to Katahdin, I have been screamed at, accused of following people, questioned about why I was on the mountain, and treated with such hostility that I have questioned whether I was doing something illegal. I was not.

In today's piece, I'd like us to reflect on the idea of reclamation. So much of this work isn't about granting new access and opportunity, but a reclaiming of rights given to us before oppressive systems even existed. The notion that some of us experience discrimination while exploring the great outdoors is appalling to me, and represents the core of this work – our need to reclaim the most fundamental parts of being human. I'm grateful to share this space with Juan so he can tell his story on reclaiming our right to blaze our own trail. 


Thank you for all the support for this little newsletter that could! If you can, consider joining in by contribution to our 
websitePayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe monthly on Patreon. Thank you for all the support!

Nicole 


TAKE ACTION


  • Check out In Solidarity for resources on promoting diversity, equity, and inclusion in the outdoors

  • Contact major industry brands and associations like the Outdoor Industry Association and Merrell and ask them to support connecting Black communities to the outdoors

  • Organize and support trips that introduce Black schools and families to the outdoors

  • Write letters to your local representatives to demand greater funding and services in Black neighborhoods


GET EDUCATED


By Juan Michael Porter II (he/him)

Last month I wrote an essay in Outdoors cataloging my negative encounters with white people who "didn't expect to see me”: a Black man hiking Mt. Katahdin, the highest peak in Maine and a favorite destination of extreme hikers. During my many visits to Katahdin, I have been screamed at, accused of following people, questioned about why I was on the mountain, and treated with such hostility that I have questioned whether I was doing something illegal. I was not.

 

My experiences are far from unique. There are numerous accounts from hikers of color about racist hostility that they have received from white people on the open trail (Outside, OPB, The Guardian). 

 

Though I have grown accustomed to these reactions, I was unprepared for the large volume of emails that I received after writing that piece. Some of those letters were kind, though misguided: white people offered to take me hiking in a paternalistic show of solidarity and protectionism. Rather than shower me in virtue signaling (Vanity Fair), I wish that they would focus on eliminating racism so that all Black people could venture into the outdoors without fearing reprisal.

 

Mixed in with these solidarity statements were denouncements of disbelief that I had experienced racism at all. These screeds oscillated between denying my experience to threatening to “show me what real racism looks like.”  It felt as if these white people lived in a different universe from me.  

 

In one regard, they do: they have the privilege of hiking without fear that someone will assume that they are perpetrating harm. As a Black man, I am always greeted with suspicion, even while on an isolated mountain summit in a state that has fewer than 40,000 Black people living in it (Maine Census).

 

Despite the threats, I keep hiking because I refuse to be defined by fear or to limit the freedom that I feel by being outdoors. In fact, I returned to Katahdin last weekend to reclaim the space as a place of joy for me. Pursuing pleasure is my version of radical activism, especially in a time when so many Black lives are under threat from COVID-19, police brutality, and governmental neglect (Center for Disease Control and Prevention, NYTimes).

 

I speak out against these issues, as so many other Black people do, because if we stop, the white community (which has the privilege of occupying the outdoors without suspicion) will keep promoting  the lie that racism is dead while also blaming us for the threats that we receive for doing nothing more than sleeping in our own beds (Poynter).

 

I interviewed Shilletha Curtis, a hiker who is of the same mindset. She aims to be the first Black gay woman to complete hiking’s Triple Crown (the Appalachian, Pacific Crest, and Continental Divide trails). Though Curtis has experienced horrible harassment since she started hiking in March—most notably in a Facebook group for hikers after she expressed concern for her safety as a Black woman hiking in the South—she refuses to apologize for “speaking her truth.” 

 

After Curtis was kicked out of the Appalachian Trail Facebook group for discussing race, rather than stay angry, she says, “I took all of that anger and passion and I threw it into words. I put it into something educational; that isn't harmful." Curtis responds to comments such as “there's no racism on the trail” or “the trees don't know any color” by pointing out, “but humans do.” 

 

Whenever I encounter racism, I recall the words of Paul Laurence Dunbar and decide that I will not "wear the mask that grins and lies" (Poetry Foundation). Instead, I work on decolonizing the outdoors and promoting accessibility to Black people. America’s natural splendor is our inheritance, left to us by kidnapped Africans who were forced to work on stolen lands; who fled bondage through valleys and across rivers as they pursued their natural rights as freed people (History, BBC News, Smithsonian Mag, USA Today).

 

Denying Black people access to outdoor leisure has a long history in the United States. Consider Madison Grant, who helped engineer the national parks system and promoted the pseudo-science behind eugenics. He had no problem with Black people as long as they remained “willing followers who ask only to obey and to further the ideals and wishes of the master (white) race” (Mother Jones, New Yorker). Grant was intent on preserving the parks to the exclusion of Black people. His racist attitudes blossom throughout white-dominated outdoor spaces even today. 

 

Non-Hispanic white people make up only 63% of the U.S. population, but they account for 88% to 95% of all visitors to its public lands (Resource Magazine). Many white people blanch when I point to these facts as signs of pervasive racism and exclusion. Ultimately, I don’t care about what they think. I care about introducing Black people to the stress relieving and lifesaving experience that comes from spending time in nature (TIME, Science Daily). And if that means snatching a few edges, so be it.

 

You can join me in reclaiming the outdoors as a safe space for Black people by organizing as many people as you can to build a coalition of support that fearlessly and relentlessly advocates for Black communities. Black people deserve their time in the outdoors as much as anyone else does.

Like Shilletha Curtis, I fulfill this mission by serving as a role model for Black people who do not realize that the outdoors is for them, even if that just means visiting a local park. It may be a small step over the mountain of racism, but through grassroots and political initiatives, together we are all building a coalition to reclaim our birthright. Instead of “40 acres and a mule”, we Black people deserve access to every golden valley, from sea to shining sea.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Black people face hostility and racism in the outdoor community and at recreation centers.

  • Non-Hispanic white people make up only 63% of the population in this country, but they account for 88% to 95% of all visitors to public lands across the U.S. (Resource Magazine)

  • Confronting racism is important, but arguing with racists is less effective than advocating for Black communities fearlessly and relentlessly.


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Renée Cherez Nicole Cardoza Renée Cherez Nicole Cardoza

Support athletes in taking action.

Athletes have used the spotlight to demand change for decades. Join them when they rally for change.

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I think I owe you all an apology. HOW have I had this newsletter for 75 whole days and not written a single post about sports?! Perhaps it's because I'm often the worst player on any sports team. But the industry has had a long, deep history of challenging white supremacy – on and off the field – led by outspoken athletes throughout history.

Thankfully I'm not the only writer on the Anti-Racism Daily team anymore letting you down. We've got Renée at the plate teeing up a comprehensive look at how sports are amplifying the current movement. Our action is to get into the audience and be this movement's biggest fans – AND gear up and join athletes center court. There is no I in team. We can only win together.

Our new staff of contributors is made possible thanks to your generous contributions. I'm proud of the company that Anti-Racism Daily is becoming, and committed to continuing this work. If you can, pitch in by making a one-time or monthly contribution. You can give on our 
websitePayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or subscribe monthly on Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION


  • Donate to Colin Kaepernick’s Know Your Rights Campaign, which works to advance the liberation and well-being of Black and Brown communities through education, self-empowerment, mass-mobilization, and the creation of new systems that elevate the next generation of change leaders.

  • Have you ever watched the WNBA? If not, now’s the time! Give them the views and support they deserve. Amplify and engage in the issues they are advocating.

  • Do you have a favorite sports team or league? How are they incorporating diversity and inclusivity into their organization? Does its ownership and management reflect the rainbow of society and players?


GET EDUCATED


By Renée Cherez

Sports can be a great unifier in any society while also acting as a mirror. They bring strangers together from all walks of life for a common cause (a win for their team), while also sharing a universal message of teamwork and comradery. Contrary to popular belief, sports have also been deeply political, especially sports with Black athletes as the majority.

 

At the 1968 Olympic games in Mexico City, Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised the Black power fist in solidarity with oppressed people around the world, and as a result, their careers were ruined (History).

 

Muhammad Ali, arguably the best boxer of all time, was convicted of draft evasion, sentenced to five years in prison (this was later repealed), fined $10,000, and was banned from boxing for three years for refusing to join the American-Vietnam War in 1967 (History).

 

More recently, sharing in the spirit of those before him, Colin Kaepernick, a former quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers, peacefully protested by taking a knee during the national anthem to raise awareness about police brutality against Black and brown people in America.

“I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses Black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football, and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way.”

Colin Kaepernick for The Undefeated

For the last four years, Kaepernick has been blacklisted by the NFL because of his unwavering commitment to social justice reform. After the murder of George Floyd, it seems the rose-colored lenses used by deliberate detractors of Kaepernick’s protest message have come off. It was never about the military or a flag; it was always about the deliberate state-sanctioned murders of Black and brown people in America.

 

At the start of the George Floyd protests in Minneapolis, Kaepernick started the Know Your Rights Defense Fund to raise money for legal assistance for arrested protesters (KYRDF). He continues to raise millions of dollars for various social justice causes that disproportionately affect Black and brown communities through his Know Your Rights Camp. Kaepernick has also donated $100,000 for COVID-19 relief providing nutritious foods, access to educational material, and shelter for the unhoused. 

 

Critics have said sports are supposed to be an escape from the “real world,” a neutral space, but Black athletes understand all too well, that they are always Black. There are no “days off” or “neutral spaces” while existing in a Black body. There is no amount of money, fame, or championship wins that can stop racism from knocking on their door. This was evident in 2017 when Lebron James’s home was found vandalized with the N-word. (LA Times).

 

The racial breakdown of players versus management and ownership of professional sports leagues is staggering. The NFL (National Football League) is made of 70% Black players while the CEO/President roles, league office roles, and head coaching positions are filled by a majority of white men (TIDES). It’s common for retired athletes to take on jobs in broadcasting; however, NFL broadcasters are majority white though most players are Black.

 

Out of 251 NFL broadcasters in 2018, only 48 (or 19%) were Black (The Guardian). The NBA (National Basketball Association) consists of 74.2% of Black players, while white head coaches make up 70% of the league (TIDES). In terms of ownership, Michael Jordan is the only Black team owner and is one of four people of color who own an NBA team. Black and Latino presidents/CEOs make up a disturbing 7.3% owners, which is just four individuals in this role (TIDES).

 

After a four-month hiatus due to coronavirus, the NBA has resumed but not without critique by some of its most prominent athletes like Kyrie Irving and Kevin Durant. They and other players opposed a restart amid racial uprisings that deserve continued attention and demand the conversation continue throughout the season to amplify what is happening in the streets (COMPLEX).

 

A league of women who do not receive the recognition and respect they deserve is the WNBA (Women’s National Basketball Association). When it comes to activism, the WNBA women are not new to this; they are true to this (SLATE). They’ve been kneeling, wearing the T-shirts, and doing the work to keep their fanbase engaged with daily injustices and social issues, including gun violence (SB Nation).

 

Maya Moore, a player on the Minnesota Lynx has sacrificed her career (in her prime) to help a family friend earn his freedom after 23 years in prison (The Undefeated). To continue the necessary conversations being unearthed during this freedom movement, the WNBA has dedicated its 2020 season to social justice (WNBA).

 

The Social Justice Council, enacted this season, focuses on three pillars: educate, amplify, and mobilize working with activists, educators, fans, league staff, and players to create sustainable social change. In an 80% league of women of color and 67% Black women, the WNBA also highlights the women who are always forgotten: Black women (TIDES).

 

WNBA players are wearing #SayHerName shirts this season to amplify the Black women who are murdered by police, yet we never know their names. The WNBA is unique because they don’t have the fanbase (or income) of their NBA brethren, yet they use the power they do have in intentional and culture-shifting ways. A league of women of color, Black women, and white allies is changing what it means to wield power for radical justice, and this is a league that deserves our support.

 

It’s eerily ironic that Colin Kaepernick non-violently protested by taking a knee. It was a knee that forced the life out of George Floyd’s body that’s woken up white America to police brutality.

 

Now is the time to ask ourselves how we will move forward with holding sports organizations accountable, especially our favorites. It’s not enough that they post black squares and put out statements of solidarity. They benefit from our dollars and views. Like the WNBA, it’s time for radical transparency, inclusivity, and diversity in management and ownership to reflect the players and American society at large.

*This post was previously titled “Support athletes in taking a stand,” which promoted discriminatory, ableist language. We’ve changed the title of the web version to “Support athletes in taking action.”


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Sports have always been deeply political, especially sports with Black athletes as the majority.

  • Both the NBA and NFL consist of 70%+ Black players, yet management, ownership, and coaching roles are predominantly held by white men.

  • The WNBA enacted The Social Justice Council this season, which focuses on three pillars: educate, amplify, and mobilize working with activists, educators, fans, league staff, and players to create sustainable social justice changes.


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Support Black maternal health.

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Happy Thursday!

I have to say, the challenges I know Black women face through the pregnancy process has discouraged me from having kids of my own. I'm incredibly grateful that this work is happening in Congress. Today's newsletter only scratches the surface of the racism people of color experience related to maternal health, and as I wrote this email it morphed into three more! But I do know that if we improve Black maternal health, we'll make maternal health more accessible for everyone.

We will keep reporting on racism until it doesn't exist anymore. And we'd love your support to make that happen. Consider 
giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION


Sign the letter to show your support for the reproductive justice movement.

Share the resources from the Birth Justice Toolkit to raise awareness about the importance of reproductive justice.

Contact your senator and urge them to support the Black Maternal Health Momnibus using the letter found here.


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza

Amid the racial reckoning of 2020, leaders and allies in the reproductive justice movement are calling for action. Congresswomen Alma Adams and Lauren Underwood launched the Black Maternal Health Caucus in April 2019, which has blossomed into a comprehensive initiative for Black maternal health rights. This includes the Black Maternal Health Momnibus, a compilation of nine bills that aim to address the disparities in access and treatment for Black people. This work calls for “reproductive justice,” a term created by a group of Black women (the Women of African Descent for Reproductive Justice) gathered in 1994 to create change based on not just reproductive rights, but social justice.

Learn more about the Black Maternal Health Caucus with Rep. Lauren Underwood in this podcast with the American Hospital Association >

And this level of action is long overdue. In the United States, women are more likely to die from complications of pregnancy and birth than in any other high-resource country. Black and Indigenous women are 2x to 3x more likely than white women to die (Every Mom Counts). And although Black women make up about 13% of the female population, they account for nearly 40% of maternal deaths (NYTimes). The campaign behind Black maternal health, organized by Every Mom Counts, puts it simply: “racism, not race, is killing Black, Brown, and Indigenous people in our maternity care system” (Every Mom Counts).

This insight is not new. The gross disparity of mortality rates between white and Black communities has existed since the U.S. started collecting data in 1850 (NYTimes). Prominent sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois wrote about this in his book “The Philadelphia Negro” in 1899 and mourned the death of his baby son in “The Soul of Black Folk” a couple of years later (NYTimes). But the collision of COVID-19 and the protests exacerbated decades of searing inequalities, highlighting the limited access and poor care that Black people receive from hospitals (NYTimes).

There have also been more documented stories of Black women experiencing discrimination – and worse – through their maternal health journey. Kira Johnson went to the hospital for a routine C-section. She suffered from internal bleeding for ten hours before the medical staff at Cedars Sinai took action, and ultimately lost her life (4Kira4Moms). Serena Williams publicly shared her horrifying experience giving birth in Vogue Magazine, and Olympian Allyson Felix testified in Congress about a traumatic birthing experience of her own (Washington Post).

It’s clear, as we covered in one of our earliest newsletters, that our society has a long way to go to respect Black women. We saw that with the coverage of the death of Breonna Taylor and other cis and trans women murdered during the protests (Anti-Racism Daily), and watching that unfold with the violence against Megan Thee Stallion, a prominent Black female artist (Jezebel). 

As a result, Black, Ingenious, and other cisgender, transgender and gender non-binary people of color are left unheard in the conversation on reproductive justice. A recent article in the NYTimes garnered controversy when young activists expressed how their focus on reproductive rights is different than the feminist movement of the 1970s, which centered the needs of more affluent white women. Instead, they feel more compelled to address immediate, ‘life or death” situations that endanger the rights to access and opportunity for those services (NYTimes).

“A lot of the language I heard was about protecting Roe v. Wade. It felt grounded in the ’70s feminist movement. And it felt like, I can’t focus on abortion access if my people are dying. The narrative around abortion access wasn’t made for people from the hood”.
 

Brea Baker, an activist and organizer in Atlanta, for the NYTimes

But here’s the thing: data suggests that the majority of maternal deaths are preventable. Expanding Medicaid coverage before delivery and post-partum can prevent two-thirds of maternal mortality (NYTimes). Data from the CDC shows that this coverage is critical, particularly after childbirth. Lower-income mothers are eligible for Medicaid, which supports 40% of all pregnancies in the U.S. Still, coverage expires shortly after their child is born – although the coverage varies widely by state. Women of color are more likely than white women to be covered by Medicaid, so this disparity contributes to the high mortality rates for Black women (KFF). Studies prove that consistent support throughout the pregnancy decrease mortality rates and increase the health of mother and child (NYTimes).

Increasing health insurance coverage is part of the movement (and is one of the nine bills included in the Momnibus). But so is addressing the broader, systemic aspects of racism that affect Black maternal health long before someone decides to have a child. Everything from the environment to the stress of racial microaggressions, housing insecurity, unequal pay, access to transportation and healthy food, and many other factors influence one’s opportunity to have a healthy pregnancy and birth.

So as we do this work, we must remember that reproductive justice extends beyond the hospital. Reproductive justice is means solving environmental racism (New Security Beat) and dismantling the harmful practices at immigration detention, including the forced separation of families and barring access to necessary medical support (American Progress). It means abolishing the over-policing of Black, Indigenous, and people of color (Every Mother Counts). And most importantly, it means listening to Black women and centering their needs, especially when transforming maternal care.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Congresswomen are passing a series of bills to support Black mental health, supported by dozens of leaders, allies, and activists in the reproductive justice movement

  • Black women are disproportionately more likely to experience poor maternal health

  • Although lack of coverage plays a major role, the systemic impact of racism – from treatment at hospitals, to police brutality, unsafe environments and more – affects Black maternal health

  • We need to listen to Black women and center their needs, in this movement and all others


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PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT


Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More