Address the jobs lost by women of color.

Earlier this year, the Bureau of Labor Statistics released a solemn report: between November and December of 2020, the U.S. lost over 140,000 jobs (U.S Department of Labor). Many of these jobs had been held by women, who have been pushed out of the workforce in startling numbers. Since February 2020, women have lost 5.4 million jobs (Fortune). They are leaving the workforce at four times the rate of men (NPR). “Even in more stable times, jobs typically held by women were among the lowest-status and worst-paid work,” explains Diane Coyle, a professor of public policy (NY Times). For example, women account for about three-quarters of workers in education and a majority of those in food services (sectors that have been hit hard by the pandemic).

Happy Thursday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Thank you for all the well-wishes as I navigate the storm, and your donations to those in need. The most damaging part of this nasty weather is its compounded impact on a nation already struggling to survive. Natalie's reflection on the jobs lost by women of color over the past few months is an example of this.

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

TAKE ACTION

Sign the National Domestic Workers Alliance Petition that urges Congress to provide more cash assistance to caregivers and domestic workers regardless of citizenship status.
Research local organizations within your community that can directly help BIPOC women, such as Chicago’s Women of Color United Giving Council.
Contact your local legislators to push for tangible changes in employment laws that support women of color.

GET EDUCATED

By Natalie Baddour (she/her)

Additionally, between schools shutting down and a lack of childcare, many working mothers have no choice but to stay home for their kids. Sometimes the decision comes down to finances: because women still earn 82 cents for every dollar a man makes and typically earn less, it might seem to make more sense for a male partner to keep his job (NPR). But even when that’s not the case, our society often perpetuates the harmful notion that women are best suited for caregiving duties and should sacrifice their careers for their kids.

While it is important to note that women in general have disproportionately left the workforce during the pandemic, the news reports that overlook the intersections between race and gender are missing a pivotal point: that women of color have been significantly affected (NY Times).

Over the last year, employment has been down nearly 7% for Hispanic women, 5.6% for Black women, and 3% for white women (Reuters). By August, only 34% of Black women who’d lost their jobs due to the pandemic regained employment, compared to 61% of white women (Catalyst).

There is a multitude of factors that contribute to these job losses. Systematic racism often prevents women of color from securing the same opportunities as their white counterparts; thus, white women are more likely to hold jobs that offer the flexibility to work from home (Eater). Overall, only 19.7% of Black workers and 16.4% of Hispanic workers can telework, compared to 29.9% of white workers (Economic Policy Institute).

Women of color also disproportionately hold jobs considered essential and most vulnerable to the pandemic, accounting for 53% of workers in the food service industry and 80% of workers in the health and social assistance field (Center for American Progress). When it comes to firing, women of color are often the ones at the top of companies’ layoff lists; they tend to hold the most marginal, low-authority roles, therefore losing their jobs at excessively high rates (Harvard Business Review).

Women of color also were disproportionately excluded from the benefits of last year’s federal Families First Coronavirus Response Act (FFCRA), which exempted many essential workers in grocery and retail environments (Washington Post). Employers were also allowed to exclude health care providers, and emergency responders from the act’s mandated paid sick days and child care leave. The U.S. Department of Labor defines “health care workers” so vaguely that it can include anyone employed in a healthcare facility, from cafeteria workers to maintenance staff and janitors. (Center for American Progress). Workers of color are overrepresented in these industries that offered little government support; Black employees comprise one-sixth of frontline workers (Axios). Given the lack of support, many women of color were forced to quit their jobs. In December 2020, the FFCRA ended, severing a crucial lifeline to those few able to receive benefits (U.S. Department of Labor).

However, Biden proposed a new coronavirus bill that includes a $1,400 stimulus check, one that he hopes can now go to eligible adult dependents and families with mixed-status citizenship (CNET). Biden also plans to extend the child tax credit to families with lower incomes. If approved, families will be able to claim up to $3,600 per young child and $3,000 per older child every year (USA Today). The bill will also add a temporary expansion of the childcare tax credit and expand access to childcare (Vox).

But while measures may temporarily ease some of the burdens on BIPOC women and mothers, they do not fully address the structural inequities that are the foundation of such job loss disparities. Even before coronavirus, people of color were far more likely to receive poverty-level wages than white workers; in 2017, 19.2% of Hispanic workers and 14.3% of Black workers were paid poverty-level wages, compared to 8.6% of white employees (Economic Policy Institute).

Based on all these statistics, it’s easy to see why women of color have suffered the most job loss during this time. The pandemic has erased years of gradual economic progress, and the effects are still going to be felt even after it is over. While Biden’s new coronavirus bill provides a brief glimmer of hope, America needs more direct, long-term policies to give these women ongoing support. Paid sick and family leave are crucial, and new measures should be taken to provide low-income workers with full-wage replacement no matter how big or small the business is. Our country is in a crisis, and women of color need to be at the forefront of our most important conversations. To see change for those most in need, we must demand it now.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The U.S. has failed at providing adequate paid family leave for distressed Americans, leaving millions of essential BIPOC workers without support.
Women of color disproportionately hold low-paying essential jobs (accounting for 53% of workers in the food service industry and 80% of workers in the health and social assistance field), therefore being ineligible for benefits and more susceptible to layoffs. (Center for American Progress)
During the pandemic, employment has decreased nearly 7% for Hispanic women, 5.6% for Black women, and 3% for white women. (Reuters)

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Nicole Cardoza 11/18/20 Nicole Cardoza 11/18/20

Advocate for missing Black women.

The following is an excerpt from Janelle Harris Dixon's article "When a Black Woman Disappears, Who Is Trying to Find Her?" published on ZORA, a Medium publication centering stories of women of color. Visit ZORA to read the full article >

Research indicates that cases involving African Americans remain open and unresolved four times longer than cases involving White and Hispanic people. So missing Black women, like Unique, are twice victimized: once by the crime that ripped them from their lives in the first place, and again by ineffective law enforcement processes and a media largely indifferent about their disappearances. It’s what journalist Gwen Ifill identified as the “missing White woman syndrome,” an indictment of the press’ coverage of stories that only check the standard boxes for public interest and sympathy (see: Natalee Holloway and Chandra Levy).

Happy Wednesday and welcome back. Our next series of storytelling will focus on people of color that go missing. Hundreds of thousands of people of color are reported missing each year, and COVID-19 can make those most vulnerable even more so. Today, Janelle shares her powerful essay on the estimated 64,000 Black women gone missing.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily, a daily newsletter with tangible ways to dismantle racism and white supremacy. 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.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Find the information for the missing persons department in your city. Visit it regularly so you can be more helpful in finding them.
Support the work of the Black & Missing Foundation, which aims to bring awareness to missing people of color
Share stories of missing persons that are local to you to raise awareness

GET EDUCATED

By Janelle Harris Dixon (she/her)

The following is an excerpt from Janelle Harris Dixon's article "When a Black Woman Disappears, Who Is Trying to Find Her?" published on ZORA, a Medium publication centering stories of women of color. Visit ZORA to read the full article >

That puts a premium on social media as the go-to resource to put the Black community on alert about a case, says Natalie Wilson, co-founder and chief operating officer of the Black and Missing Foundation, a national nonprofit that advocates for missing persons and supports their families.

“Many times when our women go missing, they’re believed to be involved in some type of criminal activity and that’s not true,” she explains, referring to the case of Anthony Sowell who, in 2011, was convicted of murdering 11 women — all of them Black — and hiding their bodies in and around his Cleveland, Ohio, home. “I remember family members contacting us saying, ‘Hey, we reached out to law enforcement and they didn’t take us seriously. They said that our loved one is on drugs and the drugs will wear off, or they’re involved in some type of promiscuous behavior.’ Basically, blowing them off,” Wilson said. “So we have to be vigilant about these cases. We have to take them seriously.”

Last year, more than 205,000 Black Americans were reported missing, according to the National Crime Information Center, and Black women, who make up less than 7% of the U.S. population, comprised nearly 10% of that number. A 2019 report compiled by the Congressional Research Service reveals that African Americans are overrepresented in the number of missing persons cases compared to the population as a whole. The FBI estimates that some 64,000 Black women and girls are currently missing. The urgency to understand what’s happening to so many sisters is obvious when it’s laid out in numbers.

Toni Jacobs sensed something was wrong on September 26, 2016, when her then 21-year-old daughter, Keeshae, hadn’t called or texted by her lunch break. They were close — Keeshae even has a tattoo of her mama’s name on her shoulder — and daily communication has been part of their routine. By the time Jacobs got home from work, nearly 16 hours since she’d last spoken to her child, she was in a full-blown worry. By 1 a.m., she was knocking on the doors of friends’ homes where she thought Keeshae could possibly be. But when Jacobs went to police in Richmond, Virginia, to complete the fearful task of filing a missing person report, she says officers didn’t match her concern.

“The first thing they said was, ‘How do you know she’s missing? She just could just not want to be found.’ I literally had to show the police officer my phone like, this girl texts me every day, all day, and I haven’t heard from her,” Jacobs said. “If that was the case, she could’ve said, ‘Hey Mom, look I’m going to so and so. I’m chilling. I’ll contact you.’ But that’s not what happened. Her last message said, ‘Mom, I’ll see you in the morning.’ And morning came and I ain’t seen my daughter.’” Even following her explanation, Jacobs says Richmond police didn’t start investigating until a week later.

Then in January 2017, just three and a half months after Keeshae vanished, Jacobs’ 25-year-old son, Deavon, was shot to death. Headlines read “Missing woman’s brother murdered at Richmond motel.” Finally, the public was paying attention to Keeshae’s case. It took the killing of her only sibling and her mother’s only son to elevate media interest and investigative action.

“Trust and believe, if she was a White girl, they would’ve been on it within the first 24 hours. When it’s women with children and husbands, they’ll be on the news. I literally had to fight to get Keeshae on the news,” said Jacobs. “People have this misconception when somebody goes missing that they ran away, they had problems at home, they probably was abused. My daughter was not abused. She didn’t run away. She held my hand and hugged me before she walked out my door.”

It just takes one regular, everyday Samaritan to come forward with the information or tip that can help find a missing person.

In December 2018, as one of his last presidential moves of the year, Trump signed the Ashanti Alert Act into federal law. The new nationwide system dispatches notifications about missing people between the ages of 18 and 64 — too old for an Amber Alert, designed to make the public aware of child abductions, and too young for a Silver Alert, which similarly dispenses information about missing seniors. It is the legislative namesake of Ashanti Billie, a young, Black woman and aspiring chef who moved from Maryland to Virginia Beach to study culinary arts. On September 3, 2017, Ashanti was kidnapped on her way to work. Because she was 19, no be-on-the-lookout alerts went out about her abduction. Then 11 days later, her body was discovered near a church in Charlotte. Her parents, Meltony and Brandy Billie, and lawmakers pushed the act to help expedite searches for missing and endangered adults so Ashanti’s senseless death could save another life.

For years, Harris and Jacobs have been a mutual support for each other, part of a sorority of nightmarish circumstances they never wanted to be initiated into, each carrying a daily anguish that is raw and unrelenting, each vigilant in her belief that her child is alive until there is a body to prove her wrong. Unique and Keeshae have lives waiting for them to rejoin. In December, Unique’s oldest son will be 16 years old; her youngest is now 14. She has a nephew she hasn’t met yet, born a few years after she disappeared, and she had just been accepted to an academic program. Keeshae is a hard worker and would be excelling at whatever job she’s doing. Her mother just bought a home and jokes that Keeshae would be there every weekend, centering herself in the tight-knit family she loves and loves her back.

Even when the media is indifferent and law enforcement is underperforming or uncommunicative or both, it just takes one regular, everyday Samaritan to come forward with the information or tip that can help find a missing person or provide closure for their loved ones, says Wilson.

“
We ask families to just hold onto hope. Whether it’s the first day or an anniversary, if you have new information about an individual, share it. They are mothers and fathers, they are sisters and brothers and grandparents and cousins and nieces and aunts and uncles. They’re not faceless. They’re important to their community.”

Janelle Harris Dixon is a Washington, DC-based writer and editor covering race, gender, culture and class. Read more of her work on Medium and her website.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Cases involving African Americans remain open and unresolved four times longer than cases involving White and Hispanic people.
The FBI estimates that some 64,000 Black women and girls are currently missing.
Missing Black women are twice victimized: once by the crime that ripped them from their lives in the first place, and again by ineffective law enforcement processes and an indifferent media.

RELATED ISSUES

9/11/2020 | Protect Black women.

6/13/2020 | Center Black trans lives.

8/26/2020 | Be an active bystander.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 9/24/20 Nicole Cardoza 9/24/20

Demand justice for Breonna Taylor.

Today's newsletter doesn't need context. We've been regularly publishing on the Breonna Taylor case since our start in June. Yesterday marked the conclusion of the investigation around her case and the continuation of our fight for justice.

Although signing the petitions and donating will be helpful, the most important action item for today is being inquiry with yourself. Consider how your participation in your community – from how you vote, what businesses you choose to support, and how you treat the people around you – will contribute to the next story like Breonna Taylor's. More importantly, consider how you can change your actions to prevent another act of violence like this from occurring again.

Thank you for your contributions. If you enjoy this newsletter, you can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

– Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Tangible Actions

Demand Congress to pass the BREATHE Act, a radical reimagining of public safety, community care, and how we spend money as a society
Donate to the Louisville Community Bail Fund:
Donate to the Louisville Healing Fund

Reflect

Who is your local Attorney General? When did you last vote for them? What are the rulings they've made in similar cases? Note: there are 10 Attorney Generals on the ballot this year.

What was the last ruling re: police brutality in your community? What was the verdict? Who marched for them?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

I'll keep this short: the justice system failed Breonna Taylor. On Wednesday, the Kentucky grand jury brought no charges against the police officers responsible for the death of Breonna Taylor back in March. Prosecutors said that the two officers who fired their weapons at Taylor were justified in using force (AP News).

The third officer, Brett Hankison, was charged with three counts of “wanton endangerment,” as he had threatened three people’s lives by firing bullets that traveled through Taylor’s apartment and into another. In that apartment, a pregnant woman, her husband and their 5-year-old child were sleeping. None of them were harmed (NYTimes). The other two officers, one of whom who fired the bullet that shot Taylor, were not charged (Washington Post). Somehow, the danger and ultimate loss of Breonna Taylor's life wasn't considered in the charges.

Many people are unfamiliar with the term "wanton endangerment." According to Kentucky law, this occurs “when, under circumstances manifesting extreme indifference to the value of human life, [a person] wantonly engages in conduct which creates a substantial danger of death or serious physical injury to another person" (Kentucky Law, via Washington Post). This charge is interpreted as “in between” crimes of negligence and crimes of intent.

The two-page indictment created for this charge doesn't mention Breonna Taylor's name, a cruel detali of injustice after months of advocacy to #SayHerName as part of a campaign that aims to illuminate crimes against Black women (Ayman Mohyeldin on Twitter).

The city of Louisville started preparing for protests around this verdict days ago by adding blockades downtown and calling in reinforcements (Courier Journal). As I write this Wednesday evening, I see news stories of protests unfolding across the country, demanding accountability (Buzzfeed). Gov. Andy Beshear is urging the Attorney General Daniel Cameron to release the evidence from Breonna Taylor's case, including ballistics reports and the race and gender composition of the jury (Courier-Journal).

This story is ongoing. We'll add updates where relevant on the web version of this newsletter.

RELATED ISSUES

7/31/2020 | Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.

6/5/2020 | Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.

9/11/2020 | Protect Black women.

8/26/2020 | Be an active bystander.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 9/11/20 Nicole Cardoza 9/11/20

Protect Black women.

Wow, it has been a rough time. Between the shooting of Jacob Blake, the release of footage of the murder of Daniel Prude, the murder of Naytasia Williams in Indianapolis (follow #JusticeForTaysia on Twitter), and the death of real-life Black superhero Chadwick Boseman, I am deeply tired. Even over the few days it took to write this, I read more reports of Black women dying from both interpersonal and state violence. Even if I have battle fatigue, I know I will replenish my cup and keep on fighting. I encourage you to take care of yourself and fight for Black women, too.

– Malana

ps – thank you all for your contributions. To support our work, you can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

TAKE ACTION

Believe Black women when they say they have been harmed.
Use the term “lynching” with respect to its historical context of state-sponsored racial and sexual terror, not as a metaphor for public ridicule.
Contact your U.S. Senators to push the Emmett Till Anti-lynching Act forward.
Support organizations like Survived and Punished, Black Women’s Blueprint, and SisterSong.

GET EDUCATED

By Malana Krongelb

Note: Because this article discusses lynching as well as violence against Black women, please be aware that the content may be triggering, and links may contain disturbing images. Read with care.

On July 12, rapper Tory Lanez shot fellow rapper Megan Thee Stallion in the foot when she was exiting a vehicle (Billboard). Many people did not believe Megan was actually shot, leading her to post a picture of her gunshot wound on social media. Many people made jokes at Megan’s expense or even argued in favor of Tory, saying he experiences greater racial oppression and is being “lynched” in the court of public opinion. She didn’t name Lanez as her assailant until over a month later, choosing to protect him because of a fear they would both be attacked by police. With that in mind, I want to talk about a subject that gets glossed over way too frequently: lynching's effect on Black women.

Black women have always been at the forefront of fighting lynching, with women like Ida B. Wells (YouTube) and Mamie Till Mobley (Emmett Till’s mother) leading the charge (PBS). Despite the deep personal pain it caused, Till Mobley's insistence on an open casket so that “the world [could] see what they did to my baby” galvanized the Civil Rights Movement. While these women do not nearly get the praise they deserve, even less talked about are the female victims of lynching (The Conversation).

Take, for example, Laura Nelson, a Black Oklahoman gang-raped and lynched alongside her son (STMU History Media). A postcard of her hanging body was a widely distributed souvenir and served as the only surviving photo of a Black woman lynching victim. Whether in the form of lynching mementos or jokes at Megan Thee Stallion’s expense, the grotesque enjoyment people derive from Black women’s pain is nothing new. It is misogynoir, or the specific hatred of Black women where both gender and race play a critical role (Moyazb).

Even though lynching is a white supremacist act, Black women are not safe from its effects even when dealing with other Black people. The assumption that lynching only affects men has been weaponized against Black women who speak out against sexual violence. Clarence Thomas called the Anita Hill hearings a "high tech lynching (Washington Post)" R. Kelly called #MuteRKelly a lynching too (The Undefeated, RollingStone). By invoking lynching—and white women’s false claims of rape that often accompanied them—these predatory Black men distort the history of lynching to maintain patriarchal control over Black women. When less than 1 in 15 Black female victims of rape report (often citing wanting to protect Black men from police as a motivating factor in remaining silent), the misuse of the term lynching has real consequences (Ujima Community).

As Black feminist scholar Hazel Carby has stated, "The institutionalized rape of black women has never been as powerful a symbol of black oppression as the spectacle of lynching. Rape has always involved patriarchal notions of women, outwardly inviting a sexual attack” (See “Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women”).

A sexually confident Megan Thee Stallion is viewed as being “too fast” and “too loose,” allegedly inciting the violence perpetrated against her. This dynamic persists even after death: George Floyd's name is synonymous with the Black Lives Matter protests. In contrast, sexual assault and murder victim Toyin Salau's name has been lifted up almost exclusively by other Black women. Intersectionality, a topic we discussed in a previous newsletter, is important to remember as we watch these discrepancies unfold. Learn more about it in Kimberle Crenshaw’s TED Talk.

In trying to write about the recent death of Naytasia Williams, a Black and Asian woman, rapper, and exotic dancer murdered at the end of August struggled to even find her last name. Her murder has all the hallmarks of lynching’s legacy: a hypersexualized Black woman, murdered in cold blood by a security guard, whose pain was sickly enjoyed by a group of police refused to call paramedics as she died. While we cannot bring her back, we can support her family (GoFundMe), fight against the erasure of her life and story, and fight for Black women now and always.

key takeaways

Lynching isn’t a term that specifically applies to men. Black women have been and continue to be victims of racialized violence
Misogynoir is the term to describe the unique discrimination that Black women experience.
The sexual and physical violence against Black women has largely been ignored.
Both white women and Black men have weaponized lynching against Black women survivors.

7/31/2020 | Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.

7/17/2020 | Analyze representation in media.

7/16/2020 | Respect AAVE.

7/15/2020 | End racial bias in school discipline.

7/14/2020 | Embrace your race privilege.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/19/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/19/20

End the "angry Black woman" trope.

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Happy Wednesday! I've referenced today's topic in several newsletters in the past, and it's been sitting in queue for a while. But the conversations that have sparked since Kamala Harris' nomination brought it right back to the top of the list. Today we're referencing how the "angry Black woman" trope has played in the political world. If you're learning about this for the first time, be sure to dive into the resources provided for more historical examples across industries, and I highly recommend Brittney Cooper's book also referenced below.

The upcoming election is bringing conversations on race centerstage. Racism is deeply intertwined in our political system, the ideologies and lived experiences of key candidates, and the gravest issues affecting our nation. We are not a political organization, nor will we endorse a candidate. But we will talk about how current and future administrations affect this topic. More urgently, we will encourage each of you to exercise whatever right to vote you have, wherever you are – civic engagement is critical to dismantling systems of oppression. I'm grateful to navigate what's coming with this community.

Thank you all for pitching in to make this possible! You can make a one-time or monthly contribution on our website, PayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or subscribe monthly on Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Note how friends, family, and colleagues discuss Kamala Harris and her speech at the Democratic National Convention. Hold conversations with those promoting the "angry Black woman" trope.
Consider how similar actions by Black women would be labeled if white women or white men performed them.
Reflect: How does it feel when others invalidate your emotions or experiences? When have you been mislabeled as angry?

If you identify as a Black woman:

How do you create space for your anger? How can you practice reclaiming your inherent right to be mad?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Not a day after Kamala Harris was nominated as the vice-presidential candidate for the upcoming election, Trump referred to her as a “mad woman” (Axios). This, paired with a “birther” conspiracy theory we’ll discuss in a later newsletter, was the start of a broader series of accusations referring to Kamala Harris’ perceived temper. Harris is the first female vice-presidential African American candidate and candidate of Indian descent.

The “mad woman” stereotype has been applied against women of all backgrounds and identities, reinforcing a long-held assumption that women should be approachable and friendly. Taylor Swift released a song of the same title a few weeks ago (Seventeen). In Game of Thrones, the character of Daenerys Targaryen was judged for her descent to madness, perhaps in a way many men aren’t (Polygon). And in the 2016 presidential debate, Trump’s comment on Hilary Clinton as a “nasty woman” launched a rallying cry against these outdated stereotypes (CNN).

But there’s a particular relationship with anger and Black women in our society. The “Angry Black woman” trope has been used to discredit Black women’s emotions since slavery. This trope has been perpetuated consistently throughout history in the media, which was outlined recently by the NYTimes. From TV shows and movies to Broadway plays, Black women are often depicted in smaller roles and appear sassy or angry. It’s wielded against powerful businesswomen and athletes – consider how Serena Williams has been publicly scorned for demonstrating any anger through her career (Washington Post).

And perpetuating this stereotype encourages our society to dismiss the thoughts and emotions of Black women. It’s a form of policing Black bodies, a concept we outlined in our very first newsletter (look at how far we’ve come). This fact is well-outlined in author and educator Brittney Cooper’s book Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower (Bookshop):

“Whenever someone weaponizes anger against black women, it is designed to silence them. It is designed to discredit them and to say that they don't have a good grasp on reality, that they are overreacting, that they are being hypersensitive, that whatever set of conditions that they are responding to, that their reaction is outsized.”

Brittney Cooper, author, teacher, activist, and cultural critic, for NPR.

And when the “angry Black woman” trope is played against Harris during the election season, it gets personal and political. It doesn’t just work to discredit any other Black and female political leader – current or forthcoming. It’s an attempt to muzzle the policies and promises the Biden/Harris election campaign will reinforce in their campaigns, speeches, and debates. It can be used to weaken Harris’s political career and aspirations – and weaken Biden solely based on association.

We’ve already seen this happen. Harris isn’t the first politician to be criticized this way and is unlikely to be the last. Michelle Obama has publicly spoken out against the series of tropes (BBC). And Maxine Walters has faced the same discourse throughout her career (Vox). Stacey Abrams, who has been adamant about voter disenfranchisement throughout her political career, has also been depicted the same way (The Root). It’s hard not to find an example of a Black political leader that hasn’t been the same sentiment, which shows how weaponized this term has become. It’s even been wielded by Black women for their own gain: Omarosa Manigault, who rose to fame on Celebrity Apprentice before becoming a high-profile political aide under President Trump, played into the “angry Black woman” trope on the reality show (Slate).

The frustrating thing about this trend is that, because Black women’s feelings are often minimized, they are forced to show up for themselves. Because as we watch Black women being discredited as angry, we also see society dismiss their pain and sorrow. Megan the Stallion, a prominent 25-year-old rapper, was mocked and ridiculed widely on social media after reports circulated that she was shot (NYTimes). Oluwatoyin Salau, a 19-year-old Black Lives Matter activist, who went missing and was found dead a week later, had recently shared feeling unsafe after a sexual assault (CNN). The injustice against Breonna Taylor isn’t a singular story; many Black women have lost their lives to police brutality that still goes unchecked (WFPL).

No one ever needs external validation for how they feel. But this outdated narrative is especially damaging today. With a global pandemic exposing the systemic racial inequities in our society, the protests and rallying to change our police systems, and a contentious upcoming election, there hasn’t been a better time to be angry. And we need to acknowledge the anger of Black women to create transformative change.

And that starts at the polls. Regardless of how you feel about Harris as a candidate, we need to validate the space she takes up and the role she plays in activating a nation towards change. That means actively dismantling the angry Black woman trope in this election – and how it shows up in conversations with those around you.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Kamala Harris follows a long line of Black female political figures that have been discredited with the "angry Black woman" trope
This trope has been persistent throughout history, and used as a way to police the voices and perspectives of Black women
It is up to us to center the voices and perspectives of Black women

RELATED ISSUES

7/31/2020 | Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.

7/30/2020 | Support Black maternal health.

6/15/2020 | Diversify your media consumption.

6/13/2020 | Center Black trans lives.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/9/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/9/20

Understand the unemployment gap | COVID-19

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Happy Sunday,

Today we continue our weekly reporting on the impact of COVID-19 on communities of color. The unemployment gap is a critical economic indicator of the growing disparities between each group, and important for us to watch as we struggle to recover from this global pandemic.

Your financial contributions are greatly appreciated. These contributions are our only source of funding and make this work sustainable. Consider giving one-time on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Check-in with your neighbors to see if you can support with childcare, assisting with groceries, or running errands.

Make a donation to your local food bank or other community center offering services to meet the basic needs of those in need.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

On Saturday, Trump signed four executive orders to provide economic relief as COVID-19 persists across the nation. One of which authorizes the federal government to pay an additional $300 a week for unemployment, calling states to add $100 and ensure a $400/week extension (NPR). The $600/weekly unemployment benefits implemented in an earlier relief package expired in July.

Considering the gross disparities in the impact of COVID-19 on communities of color across the board, this may come as no surprise. But as of July 2020, the gap in U.S. Black and white unemployment rates is the widest it has been for the past five years (Reuters). The white unemployment rate is roughly at 10.1%. In contrast, the Black unemployment rate is 15.4% (Reuters). This five percentage point does include a slight rebound of employment since COVID-19 hit across both groups. Still, the rebound rate is significantly slower, indicating that Black people will be disproportionately delayed in finding roles as the economy recovers. These trends persist across other racial/ethnic groups; The unemployment rate for Hispanic workers is at 14.5%, closely tailing the unemployment rate for Black people. The unemployment rate for Asian workers hovers at 13.8% (Reuters).

The global pandemic didn’t create this disparity. Although the national unemployment rate was at a 50-year low before COVID-19 (Quartz), Black people were still twice as likely to be unemployed than their white counterparts (ProPublica). Since the Great Recession of 2010, we’ve watched the unemployment rate of Black communities recover more slowly than the unemployment rate for white workers. This lag in delivery, compounding with a more profound disparity in employment opportunities for communities of color, created the unequal foundation for the COVID-19 impact to exacerbate (ProPublica).

“The Black unemployment rate is always ridiculously high, but we don’t treat it like a crisis.”
Jessica Fulton, vice president of the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, for ProPublica

Initially, reports indicated that differences in education contributed to the disparities; new data shows that can’t be the only factor. Institutionalized racial discrimination, found in anything from how resumes are screened and interviews are conducted to mentorship, job training, and promotions opportunities, is a significant contributor (Quartz).

These trends are more evident when cross-analyzed with other data. Unemployment rates in some cities, for example, are disproportionately larger between white and Black populations than others, according to data compilated by Quartz. In Minneapolis, the center of the national protests back in May, the unemployment rate for Black people is nearly 4x the unemployment rate for white people (Quartz). The city recently declared racism as a public health emergency to allocate resources and capacity for addressing the systemic inequities pervasive through the city (CBS News).

The trends persist even in wealthier households. Although unemployment rates are lower for roles usually reserved for those with college degrees, data indicates that Black people are still more likely to be unemployed (ProPublica). Explore more data in this comprehensive visualization by ProPublica.

It’s also important to note that the unemployment rate is disproportionately affecting women. The unemployment rate for women at 10.5% is larger than the 9.4% of men (Forbes). For communities of color, this is especially damaging, considering women of color face with mounting issues like lower salaries, increased harassment and bullying, and harsher evaluations (Business Insider). Disruption to employment may make it more difficult for these women to secure these roles again or re-establish boundaries to keep themselves safer. Also, many women of color are the financial mainstays for their families. 67.5% of Black mothers and 41.4% of Latina mothers were the primary or sole breadwinners for their families, compared with 37% of white mothers (American Progress). These financial disruptions can create immediate hardship and create economic issues that can last generations.

As businesses begin to deteriorate because of this virus and more people lose their jobs, it may be wise for our government to consider an unemployment strategy that centers those most impacted to help assist the disproportionate impact of this virus on so many communities of color.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The unemployment gap between Black and white workers is the highest it's been in the past five years
COVID-19 has exacerbated persistent trends in unemployment for communities of color
Racial discrimination, along with education and mass incarceration, are major factors in the unemployment rate
Women of color are disproportionately impacted

7/19/2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.

7/12/2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.

7/5/2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.

6/21/2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19

6/14/2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/31/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/31/20

Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.

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It's Friday and today's a great day to keep fighting for Breonna Taylor. Were you expecting a different punchline? Then maybe you’ll enjoy today's newsletter on the memeification of Breonna Taylor and what we must do as we fight for justice.

Although it's disheartening to write once again about Breonna Taylor, I also know that all of her killers are still walking free. And because of that, I must use my voice to keep advocating for her – and for all of us that have the privilege to still be here, and benefit from the changes that are coming. How do you choose to use yours?

We'd love your support to keep our reporting growing! Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Sign the Color of Change petition to demand that all police officers involved in the death of Breonna Taylor are fired.

Donate to the Louisville Community Bail Fund, and aid the protesters still rallying in Breonna's hometown.

Call Kentucky's local official and the public integrity unit of the Louisville Metro Police Department to demand the officers involved in Breonna's death are fired and charged with her killing. Go to StandWithBre.com and tap the button on your mobile phone and they will call for you!

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

O Magazine is ending regular print magazine issues in December 2020 to adopt a digital-first approach (Hollywood Reporter). But for the first time in 20 years, Oprah herself isn’t on the cover. Instead, this month’s cover is dedicated to Breonna Taylor, who was murdered 140 days ago by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove after they entered her home with a no-knock warrant while she was sleeping and opened fire (The Cut). Although one of the three officers have been fired, the other two are only on administrative reassignment, and none of the officers face criminal charges (NYTimes). The magazine commissioned 24-year-old digital artist Alexis Franklin to create the cover, and she used a well-known selfie Breonna Taylor took shortly before her death (Washington Post).

You may have seen this photo on the cover because it’s been all over social media – in fact, Breonna Taylor’s name and image have been widely shared through memes, gifs, text-based posts, and more since the protests. Earlier this week, the controversial 'Women Supporting Women' Selfie Challenge dominated timelines when women encouraged others to share a selfie in black-and-white (Elle Magazine). Many people decide to use the moment instead to share photos of Breonna Taylor (The Lily). Echoes of calls for justice are heard in protests on the street, in window signs, and amplified by celebrities. Beyonce penned an open letter to the Kentucky State Attorney General (Beyonce). The WNBA dedicated its entire 2020 season to honoring Taylor and the Say Her Name movement (KPBS).

Breonna was murdered in March 2020, but her story became a key narrative in the Black Lives Matter protests in May, with specific attention towards how little press her story had received. Although Blavity and The Root, two major publications that focus on Black stories, published articles about her story in late March, mainstream news sources didn’t pick up her story until late May (used Google Search results for this one). Although the intense coverage of COVID-19 during this time likely played a factor (Courier Journal), many believe it’s our country’s longstanding tenuous relationship with Black women that minimize police brutality like this (PBS). And until we see more accountability for her death, we can expect that her story will continue to resonate with allies and activists as the anti-racism movement progresses.

But are all these memes and tributes and cover takeovers helping, or hurting? Some believe that these statements don’t do her life and legacy justice. And the statement “arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor,” a popular catchphrase, is misleading, according to film and culture pop critic Cate Young (Jezebel). How exactly is the community supposed to achieve that while they’re scrolling through Instagram? The more pertinent actions – like the ones in today’s Take Action section – are shared significantly less.

And what is the creator intending to do when posting a meme like this on social media: raise awareness about the injustice of over-policing Black women, or gain some easy likes? And the memeification of violence against Black women is perpetuating the same systems of discrediting and minimizing that pain (which we touched on briefly in yesterday’s Anti-Racism Daily).

“When she’s diluted down to a glib, cutesy meme it’s a dishonor to her. She was very much a real person, with real thoughts and dreams and dislikes. She leaves behind a world of hurting family, friends, and acquaintances”.
Christine Boyer, writer, for Jezebel

Others believe that these subliminal messaging shift perceptions and encourage action in a time where many people’s newsfeeds have gone back to normal. Allissa Richardson, a journalism professor at USC Annenberg and author, believes that it’s a powerful way Black people can trick the algorithm to hold conversations that advance critical issues that may otherwise go ignored (Washington Post). And when conversations persist, media pays attention, drawing the conversation back into the press cycle. (It has compelled me, too, to write about Breonna Taylor again for the Anti-Racism Daily. Very meta).

The power of media in this movement brings to mind the strength of Emmett Till’s mother for holding an open casket, putting her son’s mutilated body on display for the whole world to see. The photos, which were published in Jet Magazine and circulated broadly from there, forced America to confront the brutality of the racism that may have been easy to overlook (view the photo and corresponding story in Time Magazine). Unlike the memes of Breonna, these images were chosen by the family and approved to share, not user-generated memes with their own branding and hashtags. But for the time, these images achieved something similar to what we’re seeing today: it’s impossible to look away. But we shouldn’t need a meme to draw our attention back to injustices against Black women. It’s our responsibility to share these stories with respect and care, and continue the fight for justice even when we’re not reminded to while scrolling through Instagram.

Like the story of Breonna Taylor, the perpetrators of the murder of Emmett Till walk free. In fact, the Emmett Till Legacy Foundation, which was created by family members of Till and other community members, is asking the community to sign a petition to hold Carolyn Bryant Donham, the woman that falsely accused Emmett Till of a crime he did not commit, accountable. Learn more about Emmett Till and his story in our Anti-Racism Daily on lynching, and sign the petition here.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

It has been 140 days since Breonna Taylor was killed by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove
Oprah joined a long list of celebrities, activists and individuals using their platforms to call for justice
The memeification of Breonna Taylor is helping to keep Breonna’s name in the media – and perpetuate the same systems that harm Black women
We must leverage our platforms to center the needs of other with care and grace

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/17/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/17/20

Analyze representation in media.

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It's Friday!

And Ebony is discussing Hamilton today, which many of you have asked about after our newsletters on Independence Day and cancel culture. Ideally, this sparks a regular practice of analyzing representation in all media, and advocating for more inclusive, diverse storytelling.

Each Saturday I dedicate the newsletter to answering questions and sharing insights from our community. It's a good time to reflect and deepen your understanding of topics this week. If you haven't already, email us your thoughts. I don't offer 1:1 consulting and can't get back to everyone, but I do my best!

If these emails support your anti-racism practice, consider giving $5/month on Patreon, or making a one-time contribution on our website (new!), PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also now share this with your whole workplace with a custom enrollment link and reporting.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. The next time you watch a movie with a historical context (fictional or otherwise), consider...

Who's voice may be missing in this narrative?
Who shaped this story? What are the backgrounds of the writer, director, etc?
What part(s) of history may I be missing?

2. Explore other conversations about #RepresentationMatters on Twitter.

GET EDUCATED

By Ebony Bellamy

"Why are people mad about Hamilton?"

Hamilton has become a cultural phenomenon. Written by Lin-Manuel Miranda and inspired by a recently published biography, this musical tells the story of Alexander Hamilton through hip-hop, R&B, soul, and show tunes. Since its debut in 2015, it “has grossed $500 million, won 11 Tony Awards and a Pulitzer Prize, and was staged for three US tours, a production in London’s West End, and one in Chicago” (IndieWire). With this level of success, it’s no surprise Disney spent approximately $75 million for a recording of the musical featuring the original Broadway cast.

Disney released Hamilton on Disney+, their streaming service, on 4th of July weekend as a celebratory statement during fraught times. This reignited, and accelerated, conversations around representation. On one hand, people praise the casting team for hiring a diverse crew, and praise the musical for celebrating Black culture through its music. And on the other, critics question the lack of representation within the story. Both sides have valid points of view that need to be addressed.

With a lack of diversity still being present in both the film and theater industry, Hamilton made a name for itself by centering its production around non-white actors and performers who regularly face disadvantages in their field. This level of representation inspired other theater companies to make a bigger effort to ensure all cultures and ethnicities are portrayed accurately so there can be proper representation throughout their production (DC Metro, Theater Arts).

“Hamilton is the first of its kind to present a bounty of multicultural artistry – white actors included – because it doesn’t present actors of color just to put them on a stage," writes Don Michael Mendoza (DC Metro, Theater Arts). “It places them in a meaningful story about the founding of our country that is also a comment on the diversity of what America is comprised of, which is many cultures as one".

Hamilton challenged the status quo and made people rethink the roles people of color should play. Having diverse actors portray white historical figures in a compelling way is a refreshing change to the whitewashing we normally see in the entertainment industry (The Guardian). The same year Hamilton was released, only 13.9% of all available roles on Broadway were cast without regard to race or ability, and shows that hired predominantly people of color were rare (Playbill).

Yet Hamilton doesn’t accurately represent the narrative of marginalized communities within the storyline. Consider the characters: there is no representation of Black or Indigenous people in the story despite their active contributions to the development of our nation. The identities of enslaved people were completely erased, evident in the line “no one else was in the room where it happened” from the song “The Room Where it Happens” (Youtube). Hamilton also neglects to mention the African Americans soldiers who fought in the Revolutionary War for both British and American armies (American Battlefield Trust).

Along with the erasure of Black and Indigenous people, this musical marginalized its female characters. There were only three female leads, each defined by their romantic connection to Alexander Hamilton. They are Eliza who was Hamilton’s wife, Angelica who was Eliza’s sister and Hamilton’s close friend and true love, and Maria Reynolds, Hamilton’s mistress. These women were drastically featured less compared to their male counterparts, and there’s a “clear difference in freedom of expression and representation for the women in Hamilton, who sing in only 14 of the 46 songs” (The Conversation).

Hamilton himself is introduced as a “scrappy and hungry” immigrant, passionate about freedom for all. But that wasn’t exactly true. Historian Annette Gordon-Reed notes that Hamilton qualified as a U.S. citizen and bought and sold slaves for his family. He never promoted an anti-slavery agenda in his leadership (Harvard). (Hamilton himself may have owned slaves, too – details in the NYTimes).

The play also glorifies the other Founding Fathers and glosses over their involvement in slavery. For example, James Madison, George Washington, and Thomas Jefferson were all known slave owners, and all supported the genocide of Native Americans (Counterpunch). Although Jefferson declared “all men are created equal” in the Declaration of Independence, the Founding Fathers didn’t extend that idea to every person on the nation’s lands (History).

Screenshot via Oprah Magazine

Our perception of representation is evolving.

It’s important we rethink what representation should look like on stages, television, and movies. First, we still need to make progress with on-screen representation. Even though 40% of the population is non-white, only 19.8% of lead actors in films were non-white in 2017 (PBS).

But, we also need to share the stories and histories of all ethnicities, sexual identities, genders, disabilities, and religions of those people (Los Angeles Times). And that will take more representation off-screeen; we need more people from marginalized groups to create, write, direct, and produce content that accurately reflects their lives.

This can be seen in the FX show “Pose” which is about the Black and Latino LGBTQ+ ballroom culture scene in NYC during the 1980s (FX). This show has “the largest transgender cast of any commercial, scripted TV show” and features both cast and members who directly identify with the characters and stories of the show (The Guardian). This show is changing the rules on how the entertainment industry should tell the stories of non-white people.

If Hamilton took this same approach, its audience could have seen how Black and Indigenous people played a vital role in the country’s creation. The addition of a character or two could have enhanced the storyline without completely erasing elements of our history. For example, there could have been a mention of one Washington’s most trusted servants, William Lee, who acted as Washington’s valet and assistant when he was in the Continental Army (American Battlefield Trust).

In order to honor our history, we need to acknowledge all aspects of it, including the painful parts. Without those aspects, we'll never truly understand the confusion or pain some people of color might feel when they watch musicals such as Hamilton and don’t see any mention of their ancestors. Hopefully, the popularity of this revolutionary musical and its astronomical success will encourage all of us to be more inquisitive of our nation’s history, and commit to representing all of its diverse and essential stories.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Hamilton is a trailblazer for diversifying a story of white historical figures.
The erasure of Black and Indigenous people with Hamilton neglects to shine a light on a part of American history people often try to forget which is slavery.
Representation should extend further than just diversity on-screen but behind the scenes, too.
We must be committed to telling all parts of our history whenever we can.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/16/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/16/20

Respect AAVE.

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Hi all!

Most newsletters are inspired by the current news. This newsletter was inspired by a typo. My typo, actually, from a newsletter a couple days ago. I type these intros last, and sometimes too quickly, eager to get to bed. So I typed "ass" instead of "as," failed to notice, and sent it out. (Thanks for the cheeky 🍑emojis in your responses).

It made me think of how many times people have corrected my pronunciation of the word "ask" as "ax". And made me think of AAVE. So today's email outlines how racial bias against how Black people speak often prevents us from being heard, and the importance of honoring and respecting this language.

If these emails support your anti-racism practice, consider giving $5/month on Patreon, or making a one-time contribution on our website (new!), PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also now share this with your whole workplace with a custom enrollment link and reporting.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Pay attention to microaggressions that use derogatory statements around speech and grammar. Use tips in the newsletter – and do additional research – to respond.

2. Do research to learn about the origins of AAVE.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

African American Vernacular English (AAVE) is a dialect of English that is spoken by Black people in America. It sounds different from Standard American English (SAE), the English spoken by white people and taught in our schools. Despite the fact that AAVE has its own comprehensive words, and syntaxes, it’s widely ridiculed in society, and dominant culture often infers that people that speak using AAVE are less intelligent and capable than those who do not. Most people, regardless of race, do not speak Standard American English, yet AAVE is the most stigmatized and debated (AfroPunk).

These perceptions are reinforced by our education system that consistently shames students for using AAVE (The Atlantic). It’s also enforced by editorial standards. The AP stylebook avoids AAVE in its definition of prescriptive grammar, or, how grammar should be used (Daily Utah Chronicle). And this can have serious consequences. A study found that speaking AAVE makes it more likely that jurors will view Black people as guilty of a crime (Journal of Ethnicity in Criminal Justice).

The latter point was put on full display in the George Zimmerman trial when Rachel Jeantel, a 19-year-old Black woman who was on the phone with Trayvon Martin in the minutes before he was murdered, took the stand. Zimmerman claimed he acted in self-defense, while Jeantel insisted he was the instigator. Her knowledge made her a star witness to the trial, but her testimony was dismissed by jurors because of their prejudice against AAVE (Stanford offers a legal take, and CNN has a video of an anonymous juror expressing her biases).

Speech recognition technology also fails to recognize AAVE. A Stanford study analyzed five major speech recognition technologies. On average, the systems misunderstood 35% of the words spoken by Black people, but only 19% of those spoken by white people. Each had error rates that were nearly twice as high for Black people than for white people – “even when the speakers were matched by gender and age and when they spoke the same words” (Stanford). The problem stems from a lack of representation: the machine learning systems used to train speech recognition systems likely rely heavily on databases of English as spoken by white Americans. If you read our report on the racial bias in facial recognition software, this likely sounds familiar (Anti-Racism Daily).

It might be easy to make light of this. Many of us think of speech recognition software when asking Alexa to change a song, or telling Siri to set an alarm for 7 am tomorrow morning. But what will happen when everyone is using it to drive hands-free cars, support with surgeries in hospitals, and identify ourselves at airports (Future of Everything)? And how well is this necessary tech supporting people with disabilities, who rely on voice recognition and speech-to-text tools for essential functions (Scientific American)? And consider how some automated software already associates negative sentiment with posts using AAVE language, even if they’re positive (People of Color in Tech). How can that be manipulated to infer criminal intent or aggression in forms of tech policing?

Photo by Ilias Chebbi on Unsplash

As a result of all this, many people that speak using AAVE are fluent in code-switching, or, adopting different patterns of speech and behaviors in different social contexts. There’s a wide range of examples on code-switching (NPR, who started a podcast on this topic, has a list of user-submitted examples), but for today, we’re focusing on how many Black people code-switch to navigate the stereotypes related to AAVE. Because of the issues mentioned above, it should come at no surprise that studies show Black students selectively code-switch between standard English in the classroom and African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) with their peers, and Black people are taught to code-switch to survive police interactions (Harvard Business Review). We’ll look at code-switching in full in another newsletter, but it needs to be referenced here, at minimum.

But here’s the thing. The racial bias against AAVE is a social construct built to protect whiteness. There is no historical or grammatical grounds for entirely discrediting any type of English, let alone AAVE. In fact, correct language is relative to its time and setting, and native speakers are the ones who decide what is acceptable (JSTOR). Take the idea of double negatives, something that AAVE is often criticized for with terms like “ain’t nobody.” Those fell out of favor in the eighteenth century, but were loved by Chaucer and Shakespeare, and are critical in expressing negativity in both French and Ancient Greek (JSTOR).

A similar social construct of whiteness influences how Americans perceive British accents. Consider how many popular films have a villain with a British accent (JSTOR). Studies show that English speakers that don’t speak with this accent consider those that do as being more intelligent and from a higher socioeconomic status, but also less trustworthy, kind, and friendly – characteristics together that apparently create an attractive villain (JSTOR). These situations are clearly quite different, with drastically different implications, but they do show how easily false stereotypes can be painted when vernacular is judged in relation to the default of whiteness.

"The modern truths about language: language changes constantly; change is normal; spoken language is the language; correctness rests upon usage; all usage is relative.”

John Ottenhoff, The Perils of Prescriptivism: Usage Notes and The American Heritage Dictionary

Despite all of the harm Black people have to suffer because of the racial biases around language, AAVE is trending in popular culture. In fact, most of the slang the “cool kids” are using these days is terminology made common in the Black community, and has been throughout time (JSTOR). This is another example of cultural appropriation: how dominant culture can wield the culture of marginalized people without honoring it, or experiencing the same discrimination and harm.

No one embodies this better (in my personal opinion) than Thug Kitchen, an anonymous blog that went viral in 2013 that used AAVE and referenced Black music and culture alongside vegan recipes and tips. It wasn’t until their first book release that it was revealed that the creators are white. Bryan Terry, a Black author and food advocate, wrote a comprehensive op-ed on the issue for CNN. And it wasn’t until June 2020 that the founders decided that now is the time to change the brand name (VegNews). There are countless other examples of this – consider that the word “twerk” (and the dance that goes with it) had been around for decades, but became a cultural phenomenon by Miley Cyrus’ performance at the VMAs in 2013 (USA Today). Zeba Blay at Huffington Post has a whole other list for you and your “basic” “squad” and your “bae” to “turn up” to on “fleek” (HuffPost).

As we mentioned before, language is fluid. So there’s not necessarily anything wrong about white people using words popularized by Black culture and now part of the accepted lexicon. Some even argue that it shouldn’t be considered cultural appropriation at all (National Review). But remember that the popularization of Black slang doesn’t seem to be popularizing Black people being safe to celebrate their own culture. Remember that Thug Kitchen was being praised by Gwyneth Paltrow (Epicurious) in the same news cycle that called Rachel Jeantel "dumb and stupid" while she testified against the man that murdered her best friend. And for me, that says more than enough.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

AAVE is as valid of a language as SAE
There is no logical grammatical argument against AAVE
Despite AAVE being popularized in pop culture, it's still ridiculed in workplaces, classrooms, and other parts of society
Black people experience discrimination and harm when using AAVE

Related Issues

July 13, 2020 | Respect the roots of Black hair.

July 9, 2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.

June 26, 2020 | Face the bias in facial recognition software.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/15/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/15/20

End racial bias in school discipline.

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Hi everyone!

Today's newsletter offers another lens on the school-to-prison pipeline and the racial disparities in education. Because our community is growing fast, and we're building quite a library of content, I've added a "related issues" section of our newsletters that highlights related content from our archives.

I hope this helps illuminate some of the other stances and perspectives we have had in the past, and enable our newer readers to dive deeper as we carry this conversation from one day to the next. It's so tough to boil down major concepts and complex systems of oppression into 800-1000 words, so we'll need to zoom in each day to eventually see the whole picture.

If these emails support your learning, consider giving $5/month on Patreon, or making a one-time contribution on our website (new!), on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Sign the petition to free Grace, the subject of today’s newsletter, from juvenile detention.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

A disturbing story published yesterday by ProPublica brought the conversation of the school-to-prison pipeline to the top of my inbox: A Teenager Didn’t Do Her Online Schoolwork. So a Judge Sent Her to Juvenile Detention (ProPublica).

Grace*, a 15-year-old with ADHD and a mood disorder, was on probation when she started to struggle to keep up with her school’s abrupt shift to digital learning. Although Grace’s special education teacher saw her performance “not out of alignment with most of my other students,” the judge found Grace “guilty on failure to submit to any schoolwork and getting up for school” and called Grace a “threat to (the) community,” citing the assault and theft charges that led to her probation. Grace was sent to juvenile detention. She’s been there for the past two months, and her case won’t be reviewed until Sept. 8, after the start of the new school year. I highly encourage you to read the full story for the full story. A brief recap doesn’t do it justice (ProPublica).

Unsurprisingly, Grace is Black, and many believe this case represents racial bias persistent in state – and federal – trends of harsh sentencing against youth. The racial disparities in policies like these fuel the school-to-prison pipeline, or, the systems that pull students out of the classroom and into the criminal justice system. We briefly reviewed this topic in a previous newsletter about police officers in schools (Anti-Racism Daily archives). You can dive into a comprehensive overview of the school-to-prison pipeline on tolerance.org.

In Michigan, Black youth are incarcerated over 4x more than their white peers (The Sentencing Project). And over the past four years, about 4,800 juvenile cases were referred to Oakland County Circuit Court, the same court that sentenced Grace. Of those, 42% involved Black youth even though only about 15% of the county’s youth are Black (ProPublica).

And across the country, broader studies that Black students, particularly Black girls, are more harshly disciplined. Data from the U.S. Department of Education found that from 2013–14, black girls were more than six times more likely than white girls to receive an out-of-school suspension. And although black girls made up only 16% of female students in U.S. public schools, they made up 43% of girls who were referred to law enforcement and 38% of those arrested (Teen Vogue). Read the full report here.

For students like Grace, this sentencing can have lasting repercussions. Many believe that juvenile records disappear by the age of 18, but that’s often not the case. A juvenile record can prevent a young person from receiving financial aid to assist with college tuition, harm their ability to get a job or join the military, limit access to public housing opportunities, and prevent them from the ability to receive a license in certain professions (MST Services).

And consider the deep emotional wounding of the trauma of being incarcerated as a teenager, of being handcuffed and shackled by the ankles, locked in a room for 12 hours a day, and denied access to basic comforts (ProPublica). It’s no surprise that data shows that youth with mental health issues – youth like Grace – are likely to emotionally deteriorate in custody, and their conditions often worsen (National Child Traumatic Stress Network).

“Who can even be a good student right now? Unless there is an urgent need, I don’t understand why you would be sending a kid to any facility right now and taking them away from their families with all that we are dealing with right now.”

― Ricky Watson Jr., executive director of the National Juvenile Justice Network, for ProPublica

What’s important to remember here is much of Grace’s story as a whole isn’t new. But the specifics situation of incarcerating a child because they didn't sufficiently complete their remote learning, in the midst of a global pandemic, definitely is. So what happens when schools start applying the same biased disciplining to these unprecedented learning environments? Right now, schools are grappling with the complex decision of how to return back to school this fall (NYTimes). And so far, a couple of major school districts have already opted for remote learning for the fall (NPR). It’s likely that decisions will vary widely between school districts, but we can expect remote learning to be a part of the equation for most, at minimum.

And we know that students are already struggling to complete their classwork while learning remotely. Various school districts reported discrepancies from earlier this year: 15,000 high school students in Los Angeles (LA Times), one-third of students in Minneapolis Public Schools (Twin Cities), and about 25% of Chicago Public Schools students (WTTW) failed to log in or complete their schoolwork (all stats via ProPublica).

Can we blame students for struggling to stay attentive during a global pandemic? Personally, I can barely keep up with my day to day responsibilities with the weight of COVID-19 and the protests hanging around me. And I, unlike many students in America, have the privilege to be working with unlimited access to my laptop and smartphone, and high-speed internet. But it’s estimated that 42 million Americans lack access to broadband internet, and 10.7% of U.S. households don’t have a laptop or computer at home. Low-income households were “least likely to be high-connectivity households, but had the highest proportion of smartphone-only households,” which is a tough platform for accessing school assignments (Gizmodo).

Consider how hunger and homelessness exacerbate the issue of staying on track while learning from home. How caring for younger siblings while parents are at work can prevent students from staying on track. And the stress and anxiety of everything can drain a student’s focus and attention. And most importantly, consider how Black students and other students of color are disproportionately likely to be burdened with all of the barriers to learning mentioned above. How can we incarcerate children for failing to live up to unrealistic standards as they navigate situations beyond their control?

Not every student is starting out the school year on probation. And perhaps not every student will be arrested for missing a couple of homework assignments. But we still need to view Grace’s story as a cautionary tale for what can happen – and challenge our dangerous relationship between discipline and incarceration. We are redefining what school looks like this fall, and hopefully, we use this opportunity to create a more equitable system for everyone to learn and grow.

*Named changed by ProPublica to protect identity.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The school-to-prison pipeline highlights the disciplinary policies that pull students out of classrooms and into the criminal justice system
Black students, particularly Black girls, are disproportionately more likely to be disciplined in schools
As schools adopt remote learning in the fall, there is a chance racial bias can continue to perpetuate in how students are disciplined regarding attendance and task completion
Students less prepared for remote learning are also more likely to be disciplined harshly for lack of participation
The impact of incarceration at youth has lasting emotional and legal implications

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Nicole Cardoza 7/14/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/14/20

Embrace your race privilege.

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Happy Tuesday,

I read dozens of responses to these emails each day. So many of you are asking thoughtful, sincere questions in response to topics because you're understanding how much power you hold in your communities, workplaces, and families to change conversations for good. And many are also realizing the deep, emotional toll of being in this practice each day.

As we commit to being active anti-racists in our communities, we must first embrace what comes with our privilege, especially the racial privilege we may have. I briefly covered this topic in the first email I ever sent for the Anti-Racist Daily (41 days ago! Feels like a lifetime). And I'll keep coming back to it. I believe all of us should. We must continuously locate ourselves, or, recognize where we are in this fight and what strengths we can leverage from our position.

If you identify as non-white and have a story to share, send us a message. And as always, you can make a one-time contribution on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or contribute monthly on Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Use this worksheet* to understand your race privilege. 10mins

2. Reflect by answering the following questions (alone or in a group).
How does your race affect you when you...

go to vote?
get your annual checkup?
interview for a job?
buy a new car?

GET EDUCATED

What is race privilege?

Privilege is, simply put, “a set of unearned benefits given to people who fit into a specific social group” (Everyday Feminism). There's a lot of different types of privilege, including privilege based on gender, sexual identity, able-bodiedness, academic background, and socio-economic status. But today, we're focusing on race privilege, which centers our racial identity.

These unearned benefits aren't just perks. Privilege comes with power, specifically "unearned power conferred systematically," a term coined by anti-racist activist Peggy McIntosh (read her full essay, White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack, in this PDF). This means that people with privilege tend to have inherent power simply because. The worksheet in today's action was designed to help build this perspective based on McIntosh' work.

A more modern take on unpacking white privilege went viral in June on Tiktok. Kenya Bundy created a list of 12 statements of experiences she's had as a Black woman, including "being called a racial slur, being denied service because of the color of your skin, and having to teach your child how not to be killed when dealing with the police" (Insider). Listeners can raise their hands and follow along, putting a finger down if each statement applies – a simple points-based system. Try it for yourself on Tiktok.

What is white privilege?

White privilege is especially important to understand because, in addition to everything written above, people with white privilege are also granted the "power of normal". Our society (U.S.) is built around whiteness as the default. Tolerance.org, a platform that creates resources for educators to help them lead a diverse, democratic future, has some great examples of how this shows up in everyday life (Tolerance).

A super easy one: What skin tone pops into your head when you read the words "flesh-colored"? Most colors that are called nude and flesh by brands are light-skinned. In fact, it took ALL THE WAY UNTIL MAY 2020, a whole 135 years, for Crayola to create a series of crayons that represented a broad set of skin tones (Lifehacker).

But the greatest privilege that white people experience, according to Ibram X. Kendi, is the privilege of life itself (The Atlantic), a privilege made so acutely aware as we watch police brutality and COVID-19 highlight the inequities people in the United States – and around the world – experience because of race.

We need to remember that white privilege didn't happen by accident. These benefits are the product of a system that's built on white supremacy. White privilege wouldn't exist if we didn't live in a world that has been systemically marginalizing people of other races. You can see this play out in other forms of privilege, too. The privileges associated with being a cisgender man wouldn't be possible without a long history of patriarchy and sexism. So because we have created a society that aims to normalize white people in positions of power, we also normalize violence against other groups.

As you move through today's exercise, notice how these scenarios don't just demonstrate power, but power in relationship to whiteness, the normalized and default expectation.

“White privilege is an absence of the consequences of racism. An absence of structural discrimination, an absence of your race being viewed as a problem first and foremost”.

― Reni Eddo-Lodge, Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race

Privilege is intersectional.

There are many more factors that define our privilege than just race. And I know that today's exercise looking at race privilege alone omits other critical factors like socio-economic status, gender and sexual identity, able-bodiedness, academic background, and other critical parts of our social location that make up who we are. We discussed intersectionality in more depth in our article about elevating the voices of Black women and Black trans lives in the Black Lives Matter movement. All of the components of our unique identities define how we show up in this movement.

But that doesn't mean that your intersectionality excuses you from acknowledging and embracing your white privilege. Even if you grew up poor, or are marginalized by your sexual orientation, you still have white privilege if you identify as white. That racial privilege still gives you relative power to help dismantle racism, and can likely support you in advocating for the health and safety of other communities you're a part of, too.

Embracing privilege means living with the discomfort.

This section is particularly for our white readers who benefit from white privilege. With this privilege comes the responsibility not just to leverage this power, but move through the emotions that come with it. Unpacking privilege and its contributions to centuries of harm is not easeful work, but necessary. And remember that these difficult emotions can prevent you from being a more active part of the dismantling work.

White fragility, for example, looks at how quickly people that benefit from white privilege can become defensive or angry when privilege is challenged (KQED). And white guilt and white shame, two other difficult emotions that can arise when processing white supremacy and the violence it upholds, can be dehabilitating (this PDF on white guilt offers a comprehensive overview). It's why investing in self-care, along with anti-racism training and workshops, on both an individual and community level is so critical to helping this work move forward.

Also, understand the concept of "white exceptionalism," which anti-racism author and educator Layla F. Saad explains in her recent interview with NPR. This is an unhealthy practice where people who identify as white aim to label themselves as "one of the good ones," in attempts to shield themselves from their participation in the system. People who practice white exceptionalism have to believe that they're one of the good ones, but, according to Saad, there is no bad or good. "This isn't about your inherent goodness as a person. We're talking about the ways you're unaware of causing harm to other people. Because you're not aware" (NPR).

And searching to be good or bad is a privilege in itself. It's a practice of centering how the perpetrator is perceived, as opposed to the outcome for the individuals harmed. Consider this as you ask questions on interpersonal racism, like microaggressions and cultural appropriation. Are you asking these questions to shield yourself from being seen as racist? Or, are you asking these questions with the intention of understanding, listening and learn, and make space for others? Are you using your questions a way to process your emotions, and if so, how else can you process them?

Remember that you are not alone as you unpack your racial privilege – especially when you actively bring others into this conversation. Gather your friends and family who have similar racial privilege as you to move forward, together. This work needs all of us.

*Worksheet from the Tri-County Domestic & Sexual Violence Intervention Network Anti-Oppression Training for Trainers. Created by Carol Cheney, Jeannie LaFrance, and Terrie Quinteros in 2006.

“You do have to acknowledge the advantages you receive personally as a white person, but the work is about understanding and changing systems. You have to understand that every system in the United States was created structurally and legally to serve white people, and you have to take personal responsibility for changing a system that treats you better than everyone else”.

― Joseph Barndt, PISAB trainer and author of Understanding and Dismantling Racism: The Twenty-First Century Challenge to White America, in SELF

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Understanding our privilege helps us further understand how we can move anti-racism work forward
White privilege doesn't erase other aspects of our intersectional identities
Unpacking white privilege is emotional and necessary work

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/13/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/13/20

Respect the roots of Black hair.

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Happy Monday!

Today's email is the first in our series on cultural appropriation – another potent question and inquiry in the newsletter responses. It's a broad topic that can't be fully expressed in just one newsletter (or maybe even 100). But as you read them, ask yourself: who is allowed to celebrate the culture of marginalized people in our society? What does stealing culture for coolness look like, vs. honoring it with reverence?

Ebony's comprehensive overview on natural hair is a good place for this conversation to start. And a good continuation from last week's newsletter – if you dove into the links, you'll see that comments about hair tend to be a common microaggression that non-white people experience.

If you identify as non-white and have a story to share, send us a message. And as always, you can make a one-time contribution on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or contribute monthly on Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Sign the CROWN Act Petition to encourage states to ban hair discrimination in workplaces and schools.

2. Reflect: Have you experienced hair discrimination before? If not, how would you feel if you were sent home from work because of a hairstyle that has cultural ties to your racial identity?

GET EDUCATED

By Ebony Bellamy

Cultural appropriation and hair discrimination

Within the last 10 to 15 years, cultural appropriation has become a term we can’t avoid hearing. Whether it’s Vanessa Hudgens being called out for wearing box braids (Allure) or a fashion designer sending mainly white models down the runaway in cornrowed, lace front wigs (Essence), more and more people are adapting aspects of Black culture, especially when it comes to hair, without understanding the history behind these hairstyles or respecting the people who created them.

What exactly is cultural appropriation? Cultural appropriation can be defined as, “the adoption or co-opting, usually without acknowledgment, of cultural identity markers associated with or originating in minority communities by people or communities with relatively privileged status” (Dictionary). This term is normally used when Westerners of all races adopt aspects of Eastern culture into their own or when non-POC use elements of a marginalized group’s culture to be trendy.

A repeat offender of cultural appropriation is Kim Kardashian West – who has, on numerous occasions, worn Fulani braids (Teen Vogue) and referred to them as “Bo Derek braids.” Bo Derek, a white woman, wore this hairstyle in the 1979 film “10” (IMDB), and in 1980 People Magazine credited Derek for making them a “cross-cultural craze.” But, what People Magazine and Bo Derek failed to do was understand the history behind this hairstyle.

Fulani braids originate with the Fulani or Fula people who are from West Africa. Hair played a significant role in African culture and society then and was used to identify someone’s social status, religion, age, marital status, and the clan they belonged to (Africa.com). Hairstyles were even passed down from generation to generation.

When African women were brought to America during the slave trade, their heads were shaved as a way to strip them of their identity, humanity, and culture (Essence). Once in the states, the complex, ornate braids they used to wear had to evolve into simple, easy to manage styles. These new braids became more functional and even developed a new level of importance.

Enslaved people used their braids as a form of communication to relay messages about freedom without their masters’ knowledge. “People would use braids as a map to freedom,” explained Lori L. Tharps, an associate professor at Temple University and the co-author of Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America. For example, the number of plaits an enslaved person wore would indicate “how many roads people needed to walk or where to meet someone to escape bondage” (Essence).

When enslaved people gained their freedom on June 19th, 1865, women started abandoning their braids and cornrows and preferred straightening their hair to appeal to society’s standard of beauty. And for several decades, straightened hair became the norm for Black women in American society (PBS).

“A braid was a sign of unsophistication, a downgrade of [a Black woman’s] image”.

Lori L. Tharps, associate professor of journalism at Temple University and the coauthor of Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America, for Essence

The way Black women viewed their hair changed in the 1960s when the Black Power Movement gained momentum. This movement encouraged Black people to embrace their African roots and culture. And over the last 60 years, Black hair has become a symbol of self-love and perseverance which is why Black people get upset when non-POC wear hairstyles that have deep roots in Africa. It hurts to see non-POC wear hairstyles because women such as Kim Kardashian West and Kylie Jenner wear them to be trendy and don’t understand the cultural history behind them. Read Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America to learn more about the history of Black hair.

Why is it harmful?

When non-Black women wear braids and cornrows, they’re unknowingly removing the cultural significance behind them and misrepresenting how people should view Black women when they wear similar hairstyles (Essence).

And despite the fact that white people culturally appropriate Black hairstyles, Black people themselves are still judged, criticized, and shamed for reclaiming their own cultural identity. Black hair has created harmful stereotypes that have caused people to make inaccurate assumptions about what they deem “acceptable.

Students have been sent home because their hair doesn’t fit into the school’s “hair” policy (CNN). Chasity Jones had a job offer revoked after refusing to get rid of her locs (Teen Vogue). Black children are growing up thinking their natural hair will never be enough. When they’re being reprimanded by school officials and watching their white counterparts have the freedom to express themselves with their hair, they’re subconsciously being taught white is better.

Ever since Black people were brought to this country, they’ve been facing discrimination based on aspects of themselves the average person would never be asked to change. This is why the introduction of the CROWN Act in 2019 was so monumental. This initiative aims to end hair discrimination in a country that continues to rip Black people of their cultural identities, urging states to pass laws that make hair discrimination illegal. Six states – California, New York, New Jersey, Virginia, Colorado and Washington – have signed on so far (Glamour).

“The passage of the CROWN Act in New York State makes a clear statement that we value black people and will not tolerate policies that attack their dignity,” New York Assemblywoman Tremaine Wright, who worked to have the CROWN Act passed in New York told Teen Vogue, “I hope that young women see this and understand that their hair in its natural state is beautiful and should they choose to wear their hair naturally they should not be subjected to discrimination. I want young women to celebrate their autonomy, self-determination, and natural beauty.”

The 2020 Oscar-winning animated short Hair Love, which features a Black father learning how to style his daughter’s hair, kickstarted another natural hair movement and hopefully, this inspires society to embrace natural hair. Natural hair is beautiful and until Black people are able to wear their hair how they like, we shouldn’t praise non-Black people for wearing the same hairstyles or give them credit for making it “trendy.”

Instead, let’s respect Black hair for its roots in Black and African culture and identity.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Cultural appropriation is the practice of co-opting cultural identity markers that come from marginalized communities
Cultural appropriation of Black hairstyles is especially harmful, considering how many Black people experience hair discrimination to this day
Expression of Black hairstyles has deep roots to our history, during and before enslavement in America
We must end hair discrimination so that Black people can wear their hair without repercussions

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 6/5/20 Nicole Cardoza 6/5/20

Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.

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Today another black woman should be celebrating her 27th birthday. But three months ago, she was murdered by the cops. Her killers are still free. The story of Breonna Taylor demonstrates how anti-racism needs to be intersectional to provide an equitable future for all of us.

Speaking of all of us, this is only possible because of each and every donation from the community. You can invest one-time or monthly so I can pay staff and capacity for this work. Companies can also make a contribution if they're using this as a group.

- Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Honor Breonna Taylor today by completing the action steps on the #BirthdayforBreonna campaign, created by Cate Young. Please do as many as possible.

REFLECT
Using the examples of intersectionality below, ask yourself:

Who in my life is more marginalized than me based on their identity?
How can I use my privilege to advocate for their rights?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Breonna Taylor deserves justice.

"Breonna Taylor, a 26-year-old Black woman, was in her home in Louisville, KY on March 13th when officers from the Louisville Metro Police Department barged in without a warning nor announcement and broke through her door, fired off more than 20 bullets, and ultimately took Breonna’s life.

Her boyfriend, Kenneth Walker, thought someone was burglarizing their home and fired his gun to defend himself. But in turn, the officers responded with a hail of bullets and turned an average morning into a tragedy. The police were at the wrong house. There was no search warrant that gave them the right to be there in the first place.

Despite the clear and egregious misconduct of the police officers, Kenneth Walker is being charged with attempted murder and the murderers who killed Breonna Taylor are walking free without any consequences."

This is quoted directly from the Color of Change petition I'm asking you to sign in the daily action.

"How did I not hear about this?!"

This was an egregious misuse of power. And, although Breonna Taylor needs no accolades or professional career to be celebrated, she was also an award-winning EMT worker on the frontlines as COVID-19 unfolded across the globe. Why wasn't her story heard?

This is because our understanding of police brutality against black people is centered on black male victims. And understandably so – the murders of Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, George Floyd and many other men garnered national attention and outrage. In fact, black men have been centered as the symbol of Black liberation since the anti-slavery movement. But this leaves injustice and outrage reserved for men, and minimizes the response to the same violence against black women. Brittany Cooper, author, teacher, activist, and cultural critic, explains this thoroughly in her recent Time magazine article and in this analysis on Twitter.

We have even further minimized the voices of Black transgender women in this conversation, who are disproportionately targeted and victimized by the police.

To understand why elevating black women in this social justice narrative is important, you must understand intersectionality. Keep reading to learn more.

"How does gender, sexual orientation, etc. play into racial discrimination?"

Intersectionality is defined as the "complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism, and classism) combine, overlap, or intersect, especially in the experiences of marginalized individuals or groups". We touched on this briefly when discussing white privilege.

This term was created by lawyer, civil rights advocate, philosopher, and scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw* to describe how gender, race, class, and other aspects of our identity come together to inform how we walk through life.

Intersectionality helps us acknowledge that identifying as a "white woman," for example, comes with race privilege and also with gender inequality. Someone that identifies as a "gay man" means, based on the term, that they are likely to be oppressed by their sexual orientation and receive privilege based on their gender.

There are many white women that will try to equate or minimize race discrimination with their own gender discrimination. Don't do this. There is no such thing as an adequate comparison between racial discrimination and gender discrimination. Besides, remember that there is space for all of us. Race equity does not take away from your gender equity. In fact, centering those most marginalized within the feminist movement is critical for it to move forward.

*Follow Kimberlé Crenshaw on Twitter and support her organization The African American Policy Forum (AAPF), which "acts as an innovative think tank that connects academics, activists and policy-makers to promote efforts to dismantle structural inequality".

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Intersectionality looks at how multiple factors of one person's identity can further marginalize them from access, opportunity and equity
We must center those most marginalized in all movements. We do that today by honoring Breonna Taylor's 27th birthday
White women, should not try to equate or minimize another person's racial discrimination through their own gender identity

"Intersectionality operates as both the observance and analysis of power imbalances, and the tool by which those power imbalances could be eliminated altogether."

Jane Coaston, in The Intersectionality Wars on Vox

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“White privilege is an absence of the consequences of racism. An absence of structural discrimination, an absence of your race being viewed as a problem first and foremost”.― Reni Eddo-Lodge, Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race

KEY TAKEAWAYS

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TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

“A braid was a sign of unsophistication, a downgrade of [a Black woman’s] image”.

Lori L. Tharps, associate professor of journalism at Temple University and the coauthor of Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America, for Essence

KEY TAKEAWAYS

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

"How does gender, sexual orientation, etc. play into racial discrimination?"

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ACCOUNT

ABOUT

“White privilege is an absence of the consequences of racism. An absence of structural discrimination, an absence of your race being viewed as a problem first and foremost”.

― Reni Eddo-Lodge, Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race