Luis Moreno Nicole Cardoza Luis Moreno Nicole Cardoza

Advocate for a pathway to citizenship for all.

For generations, members of my family crossed the border for work. My grandfather was a “guest worker” under a program that brought workers to build railroads and pick crops during WWII (UCLA). Aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandma left Mexico one by one. Some of my cousins were incarcerated and my aunts deported. My grandma, a domestic worker in Mexico, here picked up cans with my cousins. My parents and my little sister eventually came. And I am here too.


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  • Sign this urgent petition demanding key public servants include a Pathway to Citizenship for All 12 million, the first opportunity of its kind after almost 40 years.

  • Support Cosecha, a national movement demanding permanent protections for all undocumented people.


GET EDUCATED


For generations, members of my family crossed the border for work. My grandfather was a “guest worker” under a program that brought workers to build railroads and pick crops during WWII (UCLA). Aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandma left Mexico one by one. Some of my cousins were incarcerated and my aunts deported. My grandma, a domestic worker in Mexico, here picked up cans with my cousins. My parents and my little sister eventually came. And I am here too.

 

The American right demonizes “illegal aliens” from “sh*thole countries” (New Yorker). Some people respond with the false notion that America is a “nation of immigrants” (NCPH) or broadly proclaim that “migration is beautiful,” a phrase adorning t-shirts and wall art (Etsy). People hate us or romanticize us. Both extremes are obstacles to our collective liberation and understanding of who we are. 

 

There are around 12 million undocumented immigrants (Brookings), more people than the population of Greece. As essential workers, we die at higher rates from COVID-19 (The Globe Post). Each year we pay more than $120 billion in taxes. Our work contributes $17 billion for Social Security and $4 billion for Medicare each year, though we are ineligible for both programs (Center for American Progress). We have no access to disability or unemployment payments (NELP), food stamps (USDA), driver licenses (NCSL), or stimulus checks (Huffington Post). See our previous piece on those excluded from stimulus payments.

 

We face hate crimes and discrimination (Huffington Post), are exploited by employers who abuse us, deny us breaks, pay less than minimum wage, or withhold pay altogether (KQED). Though we face the constant threat of deportation or incarceration (Guardian), 5 to 10 people die every week trying to cross the border (Dallas News). Why is it that migrants keep coming to the U.S. despite these conditions? Though Trump’s remarks were repugnant, we only choose all of this because of conditions in our home countries, conditions often created by American governmental and corporate decisions (NYSYLC). 

 

Central American migrants are “fleeing a hell the US helped create” by supporting right-wing death squads (Guardian), forced to make a dangerous journey where they find extortion, amputation, or death (NowThis). Vietnamese immigration started after American involvement in the Vietnam War (UMW). Mexican immigration increased after the North American Free Trade Agreement allowed American corporations to flood the market with their products, destroying the food system (NYT) and livelihoods of many working-class Mexican people (UMich). Indigenous communities in Mexico are at risk of displacement by “mega-projects” for mass tourism which “are de facto elements of a ‘migrant barrier’ which respond to the geopolitical interests of the United States” (Toward Freedom). 

 

Wealthy countries which draw migrants contain 14% of the world population but 73% of world income. The nations of the “Global South'' from which migrants originate have 86% of the world's population and the majority of the world's resources but just 25% of its income (Walled World). The same policies which made nations like the U.S. “rich” made the countries of the Global South so poor that their citizens left to survive  (YouTube). We are not illegal, we were illegalized. 

 

As Angie Rivera, an undocumented immigrant from Colombia, writes, “There is nothing beautiful about the poverty that was created in my country while the U.S. prospers” (NYSYLC). So how can we achieve justice for those forced to leave their homes and families behind? 

 

Discourse around immigration often starts and stops with Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA. This program has been transformative for the young “Dreamers” who can access it, allowing them to work “legally” and temporarily protecting them from deportation (NBC News). Although DACA narratives “occupy outsize attention in our politics” (NPR), DACA protects just 6% of immigrants, leaving 94% of us criminalized (Cambridge). The framing of some immigrants as “good” and others as “bad” hurts the movement (Washington Post). 

 

Fortunately, there are groups across the country rejecting this false distinction. Cosecha is a national immigrant-led organization fighting for “papers, not crumbs.” They reject politics that divide immigrants into “good” people to be offered limited protections and “bad” ones to be criminalized and deported, instead of organizing to win “permanent protection, dignity, and respect” (Cosecha). Decolonial Action Lab is an undocumented essential worker collective and one of the main founders of “Papeles para Todos,” Papers for All, a group also demanding full citizenship for all undocumented people (DAL). Anything less than a pathway to citizenship for all undocumented people would be a political and historical failure. 

 

By Luis Moreno (he/him)

Luis Moreno has native and Black ancestry, has collaborated in nonprofits and collectives, is an essential worker and a researcher for DAL. He likes to read and write poetry (Border is not just a word), is passionate about social justice, sports and nature, and has interests in forced migration, climate change, housing, unhoused and digital rights, dystopic environments and photography. He is planning how to push billionaires to donate 50% of their money and to write a poetry book.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Immigration to the United States often stems from problems created by the U.S. government or corporations.

  • Saying only that “migration is beautiful” erases the pain and violence associated with being forced to leave your home and denied civil rights.

  • Only deciding that certain “good” immigrants deserve civil and political rights is unacceptable.


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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Fight environmental housing injustice.

The remains of Hurricane Ida clobbered New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania early this month, killing 43 people with record-breaking flooding, including over a dozen in New York City. (Time). This inundation was unprecedented — Mayor Bill de Blasio called it a “historic weather event” (Inquirer). Catastrophic acts of nature seem beyond human control, but the tragic deaths in New York also stem from housing inequality and environmental racism in one of the most expensive cities in the world.


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The remains of Hurricane Ida clobbered New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania early this month, killing 43 people with record-breaking flooding, including over a dozen in New York City. (Time). This inundation was unprecedented — Mayor Bill de Blasio called it a “historic weather event” (Inquirer). Catastrophic acts of nature seem beyond human control, but the tragic deaths in New York also stem from housing inequality and environmental racism in one of the most expensive cities in the world. 

 

When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, it was likewise an act of nature. But Black residents were more likely to live in low-lying areas close to the water and a majority did not have a car with which to escape (New Orleans Tribune), so low-income Black people were the majority of those trapped in the city (Minnesota Journal of Law & Inequality). During the catastrophic winter storm in Texas earlier this year, the power stayed on in Austin’s affluent downtown while poor communities faced rolling blackouts for days (The Guardian). 

 

Almost all of those killed in New York City were living out of basement apartments not up to code. These units also had increased risks of carbon monoxide poisoning and death by fire. But as housing costs balloon, there’s increased pressure on homeowners to rent out basement rooms. Tenants are also pressured to take a relatively affordable room, no matter the risks. Working-class families, often immigrants working in the service industry, live in illegally converted units since “the housing crisis… leads people to live in unsafe conditions in the first place,” according to the Citizen Housing Planning Council’s Jessica Katz (N.Y. Times). Those who perished were largely people of color working in the service industry if not the new “servant economy” of precarious gig work (The Atlantic). Those whom they served — whiter, more affluent New Yorkers — survived.

 

A housing crisis cuts across all dimensions of urban life. Prohibitive housing costs force people to stay with abusive partners, and domestic violence is a “leading cause of homelessness” for women and children (NNEDV). “The housing crisis puts LGBT+ people in serious danger” as well, “whether that’s forcing us to live in oppressive dysfunctional family homes, or living with strangers who don’t seem to get it” (GCN). Black women are disproportionately affected by evictions (Ms. Magazine), which force evictees to subsequently accept less regulated and more dangerous housing (Huff Post). 

 

And there are a host of environmental problems that plague housing for working-class people of color even before a major storm hits. These include air pollution (Make the Road NY) and proximity to toxic waste sites and landfills. The correlation of communities of color with such hazards is known as environmental racism, the concentration of “disadvantaged populations in substandard housing and compromised communities, where hazardous exposures are much more likely” (NIH). Those with the least social power are more liable to live in sub-standard housing or lose housing altogether. They are the most exposed to toxins, pollutants, housing-related violence, and death (The Conversation). 

 

As sea temperatures rise, hurricanes like Ida will only appear more frequently and intensely (ABC News). The unconscionable expiration of federal unemployment benefits will only increase the number of people living in substandard housing, in their cars, or on the streets (NPR). And the United States is one of a handful of countries that hasn’t acknowledged housing as a human right by ratifying the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (United Nations). It will take community power and collective resistance to fight for both housing and environmental justice — and make sure the tragedies of Ida are not repeated.


Groups are taking action for this purpose all across the country. Make the Road New York is organizing tenant power against environmental racism (Make the Road). In Boston, Dorchester Not for Sale (Facebook) is drawing connections between environmental justice and anti-gentrification fights (EHN), as are the 90 member organizations of the Right to the City Alliance (Right to the City). Housing inequality holds members of oppressed and marginalized communities back from the joyful, healthy, and secure lives we should all demand for ourselves and those around us. To survive disasters and crises, we need to build flourishing, equitable communities that can safely shelter us all.

 

Written by Andrew Lee (he/him)


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Almost all of the fatalities from Hurricane Ida in NYC were in basement apartments.

  • Poor communities and communities of color are at greater risk from natural disasters in part due to substandard housing.

  • We can make sure all the members of our communities survive natural disasters by fighting for housing and environmental justice.


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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Stop evictions.

Landlords have filed for almost half a million evictions during the pandemic (Eviction Lab), and 15 million households are late on rent, owing a collective $20 billion to landlords, are potentially at risk of being put out on the streets. These tenants are disproportionately BIPOC (Colorlines) and LGBTQ+ (Injustice Watch).


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

Just over a week ago, the Department of Justice defended a new Centers for Disease Control and Prevention moratorium on evictions (MSN), extending eviction bans instituted by both the CARES Act and the CDC last year (Congressional Research Service). Despite DoJ support, this latest moratorium is contested by a lawsuit from a group of landlords. Even if the courts rule in its favor, it’s more limited than its predecessors, only protecting tenants in areas with “substantial” levels of COVID transmission (CDC). Landlords have filed for almost half a million evictions during the pandemic (Eviction Lab), and 15 million households are late on rent, owing a collective $20 billion to landlords, are potentially at risk of being put out on the streets. These tenants are disproportionately BIPOC (Colorlines) and LGBTQ+ (Injustice Watch).

Given this problem’s immense scope, it’s tempting to adopt a wait-and-see approach. But as millions face houselessness, we need to come together — not only because the courts might rule against the moratorium but also because landlords find ways to push tenants out even when it’s illegal.

“Renegade landlords” around the country persisted in driving out tenants unable to pay rent during COVID. In Oakland, one landlord changed the locks on the Castillo-Gutierréz family’s home and tore down the property’s fence flanked by unknown men on motorcycles (KQED). Since the moratoriums only prohibit eviction for non-payment of rent, some landlords tried to “skirt the law” by issuing eviction orders citing years-old non-financial issues (Inlander). After Missouri’s Tasha Tavenner was laid off, two men attempted to rip the door of her home, leading her and her four children to camp in the woods for five weeks. A renter in Ohio had the locks illegally changed on her house and the city trash bins so that accumulating garbage would force her to “voluntarily” leave (USA Today).

“There has been quite a bit of retaliation,” said Paige of the Bay Area’s Tenant and Neighborhood Councils (TANC) when speaking with Anti-Racism Daily. In one case, a landlord repeatedly refused to fix a home’s electrical problems until they ignited a fire. “People have been having to live without a fridge or a stove because the landlord is like, if you aren’t going to pay rent I’m not going to fix anything. I haven’t seen a whole lot of consequences even though this is illegal,” they said, adding that “BIPOC are the most affected by landlord harassment.”

“Once the moratorium ends, there’s going to be a massive crisis for non-payment of rent unless we forgive all that rental debt… Evictions have been happening since the beginning of the pandemic,” Max from ACT UP Philadelphia told Anti-Racism Daily. Those already evicted from their homes face evictions from shelters for minor infractions, as well as police violently breaking up homeless encampments. “The CDC said, do not evict homeless encampments during a pandemic. The city ignored that… They evicted a bunch of people who were staying safely outdoors, put them into indoor shelters, and an outbreak started a week after that. We’re pretty sure that the outbreak that killed someone was caused by that encampment eviction.”

Countless articles lament the plight of landlords unable to collect passive income but likewise unable to throw their tenants out on the curb (CNN). One op-ed claimed that canceling rent was anti-feminist because women landlords exist (Buffalo News). But a majority of rental units are owned not by small “mom-and-pop” operations but instead by large “institutional investors” (Harvard). There’s an immense difference between losing profit and being forced to move into the family car or under a bridge. The latter, incommensurably worse possibility is the one disproportionately facing LGBTQ+ and BIPOC people.

We can’t solely depend on continued moratorium extensions. Even with the moratorium in place, rogue landlords persisted in strong-arming and terrorizing tenants out of their homes. What we can do is support community organizations on the frontlines organizing to keep us all sheltered through and beyond the pandemic.

TANC is training renters across the San Francisco Bay Area as organizers to stay in their homes and “get through this crisis, alive, together” (The Appeal). ACT UP Philly is facing down police brutality (CBS) to “demand more plentiful permanent housing for Philadelphians facing homelessness, many of whom are Black and Brown and LGBTQ+” (Philadelphia Gay News).

“It’s a collective fight against gentrification and displacement across the country,” said Paige from TANC. “Try to find a tenant union, a tenant advocacy group, and see if they’re doing eviction defenses when the sheriff arrives to evict people, to document it and show solidarity. In your own living situation, don’t let your landlord walk all over you.”

To advance racial justice and keep all of our communities housed, it’s more important than ever to support organizations building tenant power with or without the moratorium.



Key Takeaways


  • A lawsuit threatens a new moratorium on evictions.

  • Even under existing eviction bans, tenants were illegally evicted by landlords and legally evicted from shelters and homeless encampments.

  • Tenant organizations are addressing a problem disproportionately affecting BIPOC and LGBTQ+ people.

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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Advocate for fair housing appraisals.

Carlette Duffy, a Black homeowner in Indianapolis, received an unusually low appraisal value for her home. After reading reports of discrimination in home appraisals, she contacted a different company. This time, she was sure not to reveal her race or gender, keeping all communications to email. For the home visit, she removed all photos of herself and her family from her home, and asked her friend’s white husband to act as her brother. As a result, the appraisal of Carlette Duffy's home more than doubled, jumping from $125,000 to $259,000 (NBC News).

Happy Thursday! The frenzied housing market has made it more difficult for Millennials to achieve first-time home ownership (Business Insider). It's also emphasizing the racial disparities in the home ownership process. Today, we're revisiting our conversation on home appraisals with new data and stories from those impacted.


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

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Follow these steps to report any unfair housing discrimination against you or someone you know. Use this website to help determine the best course of action by state.

  • Research to find a fair housing organization in your community to support.

  • Consider: How do inequitable housing appraisals affect the value of the homes in your neighborhood? How may it have affected the generational wealth of your family?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Carlette Duffy, a Black homeowner in Indianapolis, received an unusually low appraisal value for her home. After reading reports of discrimination in home appraisals, she contacted a different company. This time, she was sure not to reveal her race or gender, keeping all communications to email. For the home visit, she removed all photos of herself and her family from her home, and asked her friend’s white husband to act as her brother. As a result, the appraisal of Carlette Duffy's home more than doubled, jumping from $125,000 to $259,000 (NBC News).

Last fall, Abena Horton shared a similar story about her home appraisal experience. Based on the market prices for their neighborhood in Jacksonville, FL, Horton and her partner expected an estimated $450,000 for their four-bedroom, four-bath ranch-style house. So, they were surprised to find the appraiser’s value of $330,000. According to her Facebook post that went viral, she organized a second appraisal – only after doing the following:

"We took down all family pictures containing Black relatives. We took down all pictures of African-American greats that we display to inspire our son. Zora Neale Hurston and Toni Morrison came down from the bookshelves; Shakespeare went up. My son and I took a convenient shopping trip during the appraisal, leaving my white male husband to show the appraiser around, alone."

The house was appraised for $465,000.

These are not isolated incidents; Black homeowners have shared countless stories of removing family photos or recruiting white friends to lead appraisals and home sales in hopes of getting a fairer price. In the NYTimes, comedian and actor D.L. Hughley shared that an appraisal he received was so low the bank flagged the report for inaccuracy (NYTimes).

Devaluing property owned by Black people is an institutionalized practice in the U.S. In the 1930s, as part of the New Deal, the federal government created a series of initiatives to incentivize homeownership (The Atlantic). As part, surveyors analyzed neighborhoods throughout the country to identify which were most deserving of support. They would color code regions: green for “best,” blue for “still desirable,” yellow for “definitely declining” and red for “hazardous. Areas outlined in red, or “redlined” areas, were neighborhoods with predominantly communities of color. Racial biases at the time saw these individuals as untrustworthy for lines of credit and their communities as unfavorable places to live. As a result, loans in redlined neighborhoods were extremely high or completely unavailable (Washington Post). From 1934 to 1962, “98% of the Federal Housing Administration Loans went to White Americans” (NBC Chicago). A 1943 brochure encouraged realtors to avoid undesirables such as “madams, bootleggers, gangsters—and ‘a colored man of means who was giving his children a college education and thought they were entitled to live among whites’” (The Atlantic).

These practices “ended” in 1968, when the Fair Housing Act banned racial discrimination in housing. But discriminatory practices are still happening today. These racial perspectives of the value of "redlined" neighborhoods, and homeowners of color, are reflected in how these homes are valued in today's time, with devastating impact.

A study from Brookings Institute puts this into perspective. Their research found that, on average, owner-occupied homes in Black neighborhoods are undervalued by $48,000, amounting to $156 billion in cumulative losses. Homes located where the population is 50% Black are considered half as valuable as communities with no Black residents. And these neighborhoods with greater devaluation are more likely to be segregated than others. They also produce less upward mobility for the Black children who grow up in those communities. This mobility is just a hint at the generational impact of this economic disparity and emphasizes why rebalancing this disparity is so essential. Read the full study over at Brookings’ website.

And this devalued property is ripe for gentrification, a topic we covered in an earlier newsletter. Many neighborhoods that are historically non-white will receive an influx of middle-class people, eager for accessible property prices. This is followed by a swift revaluation of the same property, forcing out existing community members or dissuading others from moving in (NPR).

And when economic justice meets social justice, more tensions arise, evident in the destruction of property during protests last summer. After a history of redlining and dispossession, Black people often live in communities where they don’t own any property. Lack of homeownership usually means a lack of local agency; landowners are often prioritized in policies made by local government, as they pay the property taxes that influence funding for local utilities. So when police brutality happens, Black people are not just outraged by the violence itself, but the lack of agency to drive political change. Conservatives will argue that communities are so willing to “destroy their own neighborhoods,” but who’s neighborhoods are they, really, if Black people can’t safely walk the streets to enjoy them?

This conversation is explored in-depth by Aaron Ross Coleman in an interview with Andre M. Perry, a fellow in the Metropolitan Policy Program at the Brookings Institution, a scholar-in-residence at American University, and the author of Know Your Price: Valuing Black Lives and Property in America’s Black Cities.

As long as Black lives matter less than the property that they are surrounded by, you never provide incentives not to burn something down. So when people say, “Don’t burn down the goods, businesses, services in your local neighborhood.” They’re missing the point of why people are protesting. The very fact that you have to say that means that they — the property, the goods, the services, the businesses — are so undervalued that the people around them are not respected.”

Andre M. Perry for Vox


The appraisal industry is responsible for carrying these practices into the present day. The Appraisal Institute, the nation’s largest professional association of real estate appraisers, is working to increase representation and improving equitable conditions for homeowners (Forbes). Although accountability is necessary for shaping the industry, dismantling racism is necessary for reimagining the system – and creating a more equitable journey of homeownership for all.


Key Takeaways


  • Black homeowners routinely experience lower appraisal values than white homeowners.

  • The practice of “redlining” historically made homeownership incredibly difficult for non-white communities, and the discrimination from that time still persists.

  • Homeownership is important for building generational wealth and share of voice in local communities.


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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Reverse racist land grabs.

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

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


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

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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We need to reverse racist land grabs.



Key Takeaways


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

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

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

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


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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Decommodify housing.

Just because we’re all affected by the pandemic doesn’t mean that we’ve all been affected equally. Women accounted for all 140,000 jobs cut last December. Black and Latina women in particular lost jobs, since employment for white women actually rose that month (CNN). The data is clear: Black and Latina women were the worst-impacted by layoffs, white men the least (Bloomberg).

Happy Thursday and welcome back! Although the economy is improving as more people become vaccinated, more than 8 million American households are still behind on their rent (NPR). Housing is a human right, but access isn't distributed evenly. Today, Andrew outlines more about the housing crisis and efforts to keep people housed.

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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

Just because we’re all affected by the pandemic doesn’t mean that we’ve all been affected equally. Women accounted for all 140,000 jobs cut last December. Black and Latina women in particular lost jobs, since employment for white women actually rose that month (CNN). The data is clear: Black and Latina women were the worst-impacted by layoffs, white men the least (Bloomberg).

This inequality comes as the COVID recession takes a serious toll on renters and homeowners alike. In January, almost one in five tenants was behind on rent, with an average outstanding debt of $5,600 (CNBC). In 2020, 2 million households fell at least three months behind on their mortgage payments (Consumer Finance Protection Bureau). The nation’s renters are estimated to owe some $5 billion more than all the rental assistance in the American Rescue Plan and December stimulus combined (CNN).

This is important because housing inequality has long been a key way that American racial inequality reproduces itself. Before the 1968 Housing Rights Act, some white neighborhoods used racial covenants to legally exclude tenants or homeowners of color (Seattle Civil Rights & Labor History Project). The historic refusal of banks to extend credit to “redlined” minority neighborhoods is estimated to have cost Black families $212,000 in wealth (CBS).

These inequalities aren’t a thing of the past. The average white family in America has ten times the wealth of the average Black family. It’s a gap that’s larger today than it was at the beginning of the twentieth century (Brookings). The single largest contributing factor to household wealth? The value of housing (US Census).

Even before COVID, Black homeownership was declining in cities across the country (Urban Institute) and predominantly Black, brown, and immigrant communities were being gentrified out of competitive housing markets (Teen Vogue). Now, these communities with less wealth and housing equity face higher risks from recession lay-offs. As current eviction moratoriums expire, the expected wave of foreclosures and evictions could exacerbate existing racial and gender inequalities to a catastrophic degree. 

There’s a chicken-and-the-egg problem here: if all housing is sold or rented to the higher buyer, those with less wealth could always have their home taken away. At the same time, this housing insecurity itself inhibits the creation of familial wealth, since homeownership (or housing stability) is one of the biggest ways families build wealth for the future. 

Fortunately, community organizations across the country are working out a solution: decommodifying housing. To stop thinking of housing as a commodity means to stop thinking of houses or apartments primarily as things to be bought and sold and instead as, above all, homes. 

One way to ensure homes are used for housing people ahead of generating profit is by supporting tenants unions. Renters facing unjust evictions or unacceptable living conditions can band together to push landlords to do the right thing. When disrepair at the Villas del Paseo apartment complex in Houston led to black mold, cockroaches, and weeks without running water, tenants organized and withheld rent payments to force their property management company to fix the problems (Texas Observer). Organizing collectively builds the power of those most likely to be exploited by landlords: low-income people of color (Tenants Together).

Another approach is decommodifying housing is by removing the land for housing from the private market altogether through community land trusts, or CLTs. Community land trusts are nonprofits that collectively own the land underneath residents’ homes. These residents can buy, sell, and build equity in their properties, but the CLT retains the title to the land (Center for Community Land Trust Innovation).

Because the land underneath dwellings remains in the land trust even as buildings are bought or sold, housing prices are insulated from real estate speculation, even in expensive housing markets. And all of the residents who live on CLT land are represented in the nonprofit’s board of directors, ensuring the land is stewarded democratically. In this way, CLTs ensure that community-controlled affordable housing can remain affordable in perpetuity (Oakland Community Land Trust). 

Community land trusts now exist across the country (Schumacher Center). But they were first started in Georgia by members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committees to ensure Black tenant farmers wouldn’t be displaced from their land for participation in the civil rights movement (NPR). This history should remind us of the deep connection between racial and housing justice movements, a connection necessitated by long-standing racial inequities in access to secure housing.

As COVID has deepened many of these same inequalities, it’s time to take action to decommodify housing.


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Rally to decriminalize sex work.

As more and more women are turning to sex work opportunities, especially during this time of a global pandemic, a need to repeal the 2018 Fosta-Sesta laws is on the rise. The laws were set during the Trump administration and the main goal was to prevent online sex trafficking. Currently, people like Sinnamon Love—a professional sex worker—are pushing for the Biden administration to decriminalize it under its criminal justice reform (Marketplace). Sex work is known as one of the most common offenses for women to make and can have repercussions related to health, safety, and quality of life for years to come. There are many grassroots organizations beginning to take action to push for the decriminalization of sex work. According to the ACLU, Black and trans women stand to benefit the most from the decriminalization of sex work because they are already disproportionately targeted not only by the police but also by violent patrons (ACLU).

It's FRIDAY! And we're back with today's call-to-action. The movement to decriminalize sex work is far from new, but efforts reignited after the anti-Asian attack in Atlanta. Today, Diarra shares ways that we can join these initiatives in solidarity.

And thank you for all your connections so far for our next series! We're launching an Earth Week newsletter series (similar to
28 Days of Black History) written and edited by young environmental justice leaders of color. If you are under the age of 18 and doing this work in your community, OR a grownup that can connect us to a voice we must include, kindly reply to this email with details.

Saturday is our weekly Study Hall, where I answer questions from the community

This newsletter is a free resource made possible by our supporters. We'd love you to consider making a monthly recurring donation
on our website or Patreon. You can also give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Thank you for all your support!

Nicole


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Diarra English (she/her)

Note: This article discusses sexual assault.

As more and more women are turning to sex work opportunities, especially during this time of a global pandemic, a need to repeal the 2018 Fosta-Sesta laws is on the rise. The laws were set during the Trump administration and the main goal was to prevent online sex trafficking. Currently, people like Sinnamon Love—a professional sex worker—are pushing for the Biden administration to decriminalize it under its criminal justice reform (Marketplace). Sex work is known as one of the most common offenses for women to make and can have repercussions related to health, safety, and quality of life for years to come. There are many grassroots organizations beginning to take action to push for the decriminalization of sex work. According to the ACLU, Black and trans women stand to benefit the most from the decriminalization of sex work because they are already disproportionately targeted not only by the police but also by violent patrons (ACLU).  


What the ACLU and other grassroots groups are trying to accomplish is full decriminalization of sex work for sellers, buyers, and “youth who participate in sex work, but not for adults who participate in exploit youth” (ACLU). By fully decriminalizing consensual sex work for both parties, sex workers will be far more likely to seek protective services such as STD testing, family planning services, and legal advice when clients aren’t respectful. Many sex workers and advocates have expressed the concern that sex workers are in constant fear of the police which prevents them from reaching out for help even when they are in dire situations (US News). Right now, when sex workers have conflicts with their clients, there is little to no protection for them, but the same is not true for the client. Where the sex worker is perpetually punished, the client is let go with a slap on the wrist.

This sad reality was exemplified in March in the wake of the anti-Asian attacks in Atlanta (Rolling Stone). The six Asian women who were killed were targets because of the intersection of their Asian heritage, immigrant status, and place of work (NPR). Asian women have long standing been at the convergence of fetishization and undesirability, making the Atlanta attacks that much more poignant. They proved what many have known all along: there is no protection. The burden almost always falls on the woman, further criminalizing her body and sexual autonomy. 


In the case of Black women sex workers, in particular, the burden lies entirely on her to prove she deserves protection not only from the law but also from clients. Historically, Black women have always been oversexualized and under-protected. During slavery, Black women’s sexuality was a direct link to their worth because of their ability to give birth to more people to enslave. This correlation between sexuality and commerce created the jezebel stereotype. Stemming from the Bible, a jezebel is an evil and immoral woman who uses her sexuality to manipulate men (Baptist News Global).


With the jezebel stereotype in place, it has been nearly impossible for Black women especially to be respected sexually. If a Black woman is raped, she was obviously asking for it because of her innate sexual nature. If she’s a sex worker, she should assume the risks that come with the profession and move on. None of these are okay assumptions to make, yet they’re made by society as well as the people Black women are supposed to be able to rely on to protect them. In any other profession, the business owner is protected. In sex work, that is not the case. 
 

Sex work has become imperative for many young people, especially Black, Brown, and trans women who need to pay essential bills such as rent but can’t secure steady traditional employment. Sites like OnlyFans have become increasingly popular over the last year because of the ability to earn money from sex work, but there are still plenty of women who rely on in-person sex work to pay their bills (Insider). For example, Dee is a transgender woman from Central America who lost her job at the beginning of the Coronavirus pandemic. In order to keep up with her rent, she turned to sex work until her neighbors called the police and she was subsequently charged with prostitution (CNN). If sex work were legal, Dee would have not only been able to pay her rent but, also directly, contribute to the economy through taxes and spending.

Eliza Orlins, an American lawyer from New York City, is on a mission to remove the stigma around sex work and decriminalize it all together as she runs for District Attorney of Manhattan. She notes that when sex work is completely decriminalized, sex workers will have better access to healthcare, police will be able to spend more time combatting true crime, and the United States will slowly move toward becoming more equitable in terms of business (Chicago Tribune).  According to a poll conducted by Data For Progress in 2020, 52% of Americans support the decriminalization of sex work (The Hill). Data for Progress also found that 49% of Americans support defunding vice policing of sex work: when plainclothes officers solicit sex workers, have sex, and then arrest them (VICE).


But what we truly need is complete decriminalization followed by vacated and commuted sentences for those already serving time for sex work offenses. It’s time to level the playing field when it comes to the business of sex, especially when it’s being conducted consensually. It is time to end the double standard, meaning when sex workers, especially Black and trans sex workers, are no longer prosecuted for something the average person does just as often.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Sex work between two consenting partners should not be illegal.

  • Black and trans women are disproportionately affected by sex work being a criminal offense

  • Legalizing sex work would positively impact the economy and provide financial protection for sex workers.


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Protect the unhoused community.

Last week, a thriving houseless encampment in Echo Park, Los Angeles, was destroyed by city officials. The community released a statement asking not to be disturbed, and allies gathered to stand in solidarity in advance of the raid. Nevertheless, on March 24, over four hundred LAPD officers descended to remove the unhoused community forcibly. Over 182 people were arrested, including at least a dozen journalists. By early the following day, police erected fences around the perimeter so residents couldn’t leave or return (The Knock LA). Protestors have since reported violence and projectiles inflicted by law enforcement at the scene.

Happy Thursday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. As we enter our 10th month of reporting (!!!), I'm still overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of this community. Thank you for being here, and remember: we're making big shifts together, even if you feel like your efforts are small. Thank you for staying committed and consistent with this work.

The stories from the forced displacement at Echo Park last week are still haunting me, so I wanted to educate myself a bit more about the houselessness crisis across the U.S. I want to emphasize that local engagement is critical on this issue, so do your best to find organizations and initiatives to support nearest you.

Also, we're launching an Earth Week newsletter series (similar to
28 Days of Black History) written and edited by young environmental justice leaders of color. If you are under the age of 18 and doing this work in your community, OR a grownup that can connect us to a voice we must include, kindly reply to this email with details.

This newsletter is a free resource made possible by our supporters. We'd love you to consider making a monthly recurring donation
on our website or Patreon. You can also give one-time on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Thank you for all your support!

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Use these steps to help the unhoused in your community get their stimulus checks. Join a virtual teach-in to learn more on Monday, April 5.

  • Support local mutual aid organizations focusing on the unhoused communities near you. Some suggestions: Remora House in DC, the Echo Park Rise Up GoFundMe, Minneapolis Northside Mutual Aid, and the SF Neighbors Solidarity Network in San Francisco.

  • Research how your city engages with its unhoused community and advocate for its wellbeing. For example, Austin will vote May 1 on Proposition B, which will make it illegal to camp in certain public places, sit or lie in public spaces, and panhandle at night (KVUE). My work is to advocate against this criminalization by raising awareness and encouraging my local friends to vote against it.


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

In this article, we use the term houseless and houselessness, which distinguishes the difference between having insecure access to shelter rather than the sense of belonging and identity with the concept of home, which can be much more than a physical place. Pete White, executive director of the Los Angeles Community Action Network, shares in Curbed that unhoused people may still identify home as that neighborhood, city, and/or lands (although this shouldn’t discredit those displaced and unhoused because of houselessness). I also appreciate the perspective from unhoused.org, which states that “unhoused” implies “that there is a moral and social assumption that everyone should be housed in the first place.” This, to me, sharpens the focus of the issue.
 

Last week, a thriving houseless encampment in Echo Park, Los Angeles, was destroyed by city officials. The community released a statement asking not to be disturbed, and allies gathered to stand in solidarity in advance of the raid. Nevertheless, on March 24, over four hundred LAPD officers descended to remove the unhoused community forcibly. Over 182 people were arrested, including at least a dozen journalists. By early the following day, police erected fences around the perimeter so residents couldn’t leave or return (The Knock LA). Protestors have since reported violence and projectiles inflicted by law enforcement at the scene.

We view the displacement of the homeless residents of Echo Park Lake as a forced eviction. Indeed, it was eviction at gunpoint, one that entailed the invasion and closure of the park by a militarized police force and led to 'uncertainty, fear, anger' for the homeless residents.

From an open letter from UCLA staff members condemning the actions at Echo Park.

Echo Park is a well-known location in Los Angeles (The Hollywood Reporter), and that, paired with the scale of the crackdown, garnered national attention. But unhoused populations across the country – and around the world – face similar injustices regularly.

Like many issues in our society, houselessness is frequently positioned due to an individual’s actions. If you believe stereotypes depicted in media, a person’s addiction, violent tendencies, lack of academic commitment, money mismanagement, etc., led them to lose their homes. But really, the story of houselessness highlights the failings of a system, not its people. Evictions are often the major life event that precedes an unhoused experience, particularly in urban communities with rapidly rising rent and homeownership costs (Washington Post). Incarceration does as well; formerly incarcerated people are up to 13x more likely to experience houselessness than the general population (Urban Institute). So does job insecurity, which is increasingly likely for those working low-wage jobs and in temporary roles. 

These issues tend to impact people of color disproportionately. A study from 2018 found that Black people account for 12% of the population but 43% of the homeless population (National Low Income Housing Coalition). Because it’s embedded in everything from the housing market to employment, incarceration, and academia, systemic racism and discrimination accelerate the likelihood that someone will become unhoused. The New York Times offers a comprehensive overview of the impact of racism on houselessness in Los Angeles. Read more in-depth about other issues that foster houselessness here.

And all of this was well-documented before the impact of the pandemic, which has forced many more people into houselessness. In fact, the Echo Park community swelled in size this year because of it. One study estimates that this year will cause twice as much houselessness as the 2008 Great Recession. From now – 2023, the unhoused community is projected to grow by 49% in the United States, 68% in California, and 86% in Los Angeles County (Economic Roundtable).

Experiencing houselessness may increase the likelihood of contracting COVID-19. According to Johns Hopkins University’s Coronavirus Resource Center, the highest single 7-day rate of positive COVID tests for the entire United States population between the months of June and October was 7.8%. The National Health Care for the Homeless Council reported that COVID positivity rates for those experiencing houselessness fell in an average range of 9-12% for that same time period (United Way). Despite this, at least twenty states did not include people living in shelters as part of their vaccine distribution plans (National Academy for State Health Policy).

In addition, some unhoused people don’t have access to a consistent address and may not file taxes because of their low income. This makes it difficult for them to access the COVID-19 stimulus checks, which have been a lifeline for many people regardless if they have reliable access to housing or not. Individuals can file a tax return this year (and the deadline was extended until May 15th) to receive the latest payment, so there’s still time to support those in your community using the resources provided above.

Racism and discrimination also shape how our system responds to houselessness. As demonstrated in Echo Park, unhoused people are often criminalized instead of supported, which can exacerbate the trauma and pain of being unhoused. Cities will pass laws banning people from sleeping in public spaces or cars and laws against scavenging through trash for food. Local law enforcement will write citations or charge fines for those “loitering” in public areas. 72% of cities have one or more laws prohibiting camping in public places, and 83% of cities restrict or ban begging in some or all public places. In addition, 55% of cities prohibit storing property in public places, which gives law enforcement legal protection to seize and discard people’s things, including essential items like identification, medicine, food, and shelter (Housing Not Handcuffs 2019, National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty).

This approach to houselessness isn’t effective. First off, it continues to apply individual punishment for systemic failures. It also wastes precious resources – resources that could nourish communities and reduce the situations that lead to houselessness in the first place. These same resources can also reduce incarceration and policing, improve education, and foster employment, a far more generative solution for communities overall than punitive measures. It also contributes to the narrative that houselessness is at fault of the people and not decisions made by local leaders. 

When we consider the belated response of the U.S. government to the pandemic, paired with our existing economic and social issues, I don’t understand how we can insinuate that houselessness is the fault of one person – let alone any justification to treat unhoused people like criminals. The community in Echo Park emphasized that they had created “a sense of security, stability, and safety” against all odds and despite the city’s lack of support. When members of our community are most vulnerable, we must protect their well-being. Policing is not the answer.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Residents of an unhoused community in Los Angeles were forcibly removed from the property after building a space of resiliency despite lack of support from the city

  • Houselessness is an issue likely to increase due to the social and economic impact of the pandemic

  • Criminalization is not the answer to houselessness


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Renée Cherez Nicole Cardoza Renée Cherez Nicole Cardoza

Learn about sundown towns.

Happy Tuesday! Today we're learning about sundown towns, which I always thought of as a part of our history until the Defund San Antonio Police Department Coalition referred to San Antonio as one, and released travel advisories for Black residents.

Renée takes us through the history of sundown towns, the danger of U.S. travel for Black residents, and offers insights for you to consider the next time you're planning a road trip. And be sure to check out the action items – I discovered that my own hometown was once a sundown town.

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

– Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Use this map to see what towns near your hometown may have been sundown towns.

  • Support the GoFundMe campaign of two Black women aiming to make travel safer for Black travelers through a modern-day digital green book.

  • Consider: How does your community express itself as a welcoming space for people of color? How might it dissuade visitors and new residents?


GET EDUCATED


By Renée Cherez (she/her)

An American pastime has resurrected with international travel halted to break quarantine’s mundanity: the road trip. Part of the ‘American Dream’ appeal was the sense of freedom, especially in the imagery of road trips on an open highway.

 

Twentieth-century representation was loaded with white families’ on deserted highways in Chevy’s worry-free with bright smiles. Absent were Black families’ – as the open road was not a journey of good times but open racialized terrorism (NYTimes).

 

Though Black Americans were aware of the dangers of traveling by car, there was (and still is) a strong sense of freedom and control that automobile travel offered that trains and busses did not (NYTimes). While traveling by busses and trains in Jim Crow America, Black Americans were often subjected to a conductors’ watchful eye. They would have to defer to white passengers even when seated in the “Colored Cart.” This kind of harassment was relentless and what made the construction of a new highway appealing.

 

Route 66, or “The Mother Road,” one of the most famous U.S. highways, connected eight states beginning in Chicago linking to Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Gaining popularity during the 1930s as people tried to escape the Dust Bowl, Black Americans also used Route 66 to flee racial violence in Jim Crow south. Unbeknownst to them, there was no escaping Jim Crow as institutionalized racism was embedded in every part of the country. A year before Route 66 construction began, the Chicago Tribune published an editorial warning Black Americans away from recreational facilities like swimming pools:

“We should be doing no service to the Negroes if we did not point out that to a very large section of the white population the presence of a Negro, however well behaved, among white bathers is an irritation. This may be a regrettable fact to the Negroes, but it is nevertheless a fact, and must be reckoned with … [T]he Negroes could make a definite contribution to good race relationship by remaining away from beaches where their presence is resented.”


Chicago Tribune editorial, published on August 29, 1925, via The Atlantic.

Because Route 66 covered over 2,000 miles, various businesses like restaurants, barbershops, gas stations, and motels were along the route, making it possible for travelers to stop for a night’s rest and food –except Black travelers. Of the eight states along the highway, 6 had official segregation laws, but all had unofficial rules about race (The Atlantic).

 

Victor Hugo Green, a postal worker from Harlem, New York, created The Negro Motorist Green Book. This travel guide listed motels, taverns, guesthouses, barbershops, beauty salons, restaurants, realtors, and department stores that were safe for Black Americans to patronize without harm. The book included listings for all parts of the country, but Route 66 was the most famous highway. Published from 1936-1966, the Green Book was considered the Bible of Black travel because it prevented the shame of being kicked out of restaurants and listed towns known as sundown towns (Smithsonian Magazine).

 

Sundown towns were white only communities where Black people were not allowed to stay “past sundown,” hence the term. Thousands of communities used local law enforcement to protect these spaces across the U.S. (Tougaloo). These communities were dangerous to Black travelers under any circumstance, but being seen after sunset was sure to warrant violence or death. Mostly created to prevent an influx of Black Americans (and Jews and Chinese) in white communities, sundown towns were and still are, symbols of violence (GEN). Black travelers often passed signs that read “Don’t Let the Sun Set on You Here, Understand?” and “Whites Only Within City Limits After Dark.” At its peak, there were an estimated 10,000 towns like these in 1970 (Tolerance.org).

 

A common practice among Black men with nice cars was to lie to police officers when asked if the vehicle they were driving was theirs. White vigilantes and police officers found it offensive if a Black man owned a fancier car than their own, or even interpreted it as a Black man trying to upstage him. If a Black man was stopped with his family, to protect them from violence, a chauffeur hat would be kept in the car and used as a decoy to avoid trouble (The Atlantic).

 

Misha Greens’ new series, Lovecraft Country, on HBO, is a powerful example of how horror coupled with America’s unique form of racism can not only be entertaining but illustrates the psychological warfare Black Americans are forced to endure daily. The series follows a young man Atticus, from Chicago, searching for his father in Ardham, Massachusetts.

 

Joining him on this road trip is his Uncle George (played by Courtney B. Vance) and childhood friend, Letitia (played by Jurnee Smollet). Playing off Mr. Green’s travel guidebook, Uncle George is creating a travel guide for Black travelers. Without sharing too much, all of the fear that sundown towns embody is perfectly depicted thus far.

 

From psychological violence by police officers, sundown town signage, and refusal of service in a restaurant, the horror of racism is real, and to consider it entertaining can feel wrong. The first two episodes alone show how mortifying, debilitating, and dehumanizing segregation, sundown towns, and Jim Crow were, and still are, today. Police officers and white vigilantes were used as agents against Black life. This is clear when we think about the hunting and murder of Ahmaud Arbery as he ran through his Brunswick, Georgia neighborhood, which may have very well been a sundown town.

 

It may be easy for white viewers of Lovecraft Country and those who’ve recently learned about The Negro Motorist Green Book to brush off the racial history both explore as ways of the past. However, we should remember that Black men are still being lynched in America in 2020. 

 

If this year has shown us anything, its that we are far from a post-racial society. With racial injustices in full view, Black travelers are creating the necessary resources to keep other Black people safe both domestically and internationally (Travel + Leisure). White people who consider themselves allies should spend their privilege by sharing and amplifying these resources often to aid in the protection of Black travelers everywhere.


Key Takeaways


  • Sundown towns were white only and dangerous to Black travelers under any circumstance.

  • Lovecraft Country, on HBO, illustrates the psychological warfare Black Americans are forced to endure daily.

  • Black Americans still feel fear when traveling by car in America.


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

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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Rally for fair appraisals.

Happy Wednesday! 

There is SO MUCH to write about. So much, in fact, that we could send ten emails a day and still not keep up with the news. But when I saw the story below, I knew I had to share the historical context, and how this discrimination robs communities of not just their generational wealth, but political wealth. Hopefully, it offers more context for what you see unfolding during the protests, and encourage you to analyze how damaging our racial biases can be.

As always, your contributions are so appreciated! You can give on our websitePayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe monthly on our Patreon.

ps – I'll never send ten emails a day, but I do send one each day without fail. And I hope you stick with it. If you'd prefer to get just one weekly recap (delivered on Saturdays) you can update your profile here.


TAKE ACTION


If you experience or hear of racial bias by appraisers, report them. Use this website to help determine the best course of action by state: https://refermyappraisalcomplaint.asc.gov/.

Subscribe to updates from one fair housing organization in your neighborhood or closest major city nearby.

Reflect: How has your racial bias influenced your perception of the value or worth of a property or location?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza

It’s a story you may have seen on your newsfeeds this week: a couple in Jacksonville, Florida, wanted to take advantage of this season’s low home-refinance rates. They hired an appraiser to review their four-bedroom, four-bath ranch-style house. Based on the market prices for their neighborhood, they expected a number around $450,000. So, they were surprised to find the appraiser’s value of $330,000.

The owner, Abena Horton, who is Black, suspected racial bias played a part. So, according to her Facebook post that went viral, organized a second appraisal, but did the following:

"We took down all family pictures containing Black relatives. We took down all pictures of African-American greats that we display to inspire our son. Zora Neale Hurston and Toni Morrison came down from the bookshelves; Shakespeare went up. My son and I took a convenient shopping trip during the appraisal, leaving my white male husband to show the appraiser around, alone."

The house was appraised for $465,000.

As the post gained popularity and was covered by the NYTimes, more Black homeowners shared their stories. This wasn’t an isolated incident; many of these homeowners have removed family photos and had white friends stand-in during appraisals and home sales in hopes to get a fairer price. In the NYTimes, comedian, and actor D.L. Hughley shared that an appraisal he received was so low the bank flagged the report for inaccuracy (NYTimes).

Devaluing property owned by Black people, or preventing ownership at all, is a practice that goes back decades in America. Although there are several issues that have contributed to the lack of land ownership by Black people throughout history, one is particularly relevant to appraisals. In the 1930s, as part of the New Deal, the federal government created a series of initiatives to incentivize home ownership (The Atlantic). As part, surveyors analyzed neighborhoods thorughout the country to identify which were most deserving of support, color-coding them green for “best,” blue for “still desirable,” yellow for “definitely declining” and red for “hazardous. Areas outlined in red, or “redlined” areas, were neighborhoods with predominantly communities of color. Raical biases at the time saw these individuals as untrustworthy for lines of credit, and their communities as unsavorable places to live. As a result, loans in redlined neighborhoods were extremely high or completely unavaialble (Washington Post). From 1934 to 1962,  “98% of the Federal Housing Administration Loans went to White Americans” (NBC Chicago). A 1943 brochure encouraged realtors to avoid undesirables such as “madams, bootleggers, gangsters—and ‘a colored man of means who was giving his children a college education and thought they were entitled to live among whites’” (The Atlantic).

These practices “ended” in 1968, when the Fair Housing Act banned racial discrimination in housing, but discriminatory practices are still happening today. These racial perspectives of the value of "redlined" neighborhoods, and homeowners of color, are reflected in how these homes are valued in today's time, with devastating impact.

A study from Brookings Institue puts this into perspective. Their research found that owner-occupied homes in Black neighborhoods are undervalued by $48,000 per home on average, amounting to $156 billion in cumulative losses. The homes in neighborhoods where the population is 50% Black are valued at roughly half the price as homes in communities with no Black residents. And these neighborhoods with greater devaluation are more likely to be segregated than others. They also produce less upward mobility for the Black children who grow up in those communities. This mobility is just a hint at the generational impact of this economic disparity and emphasizes why rebalancing this disparity is so important. Read the full study over at Brookings’ website.

And this devalued property is ripe for gentrification, a topic we covered in an earlier newsletter. Many neighborhoods that are historically non-white will receive an influx of middle-class people, eager for accessible property prices. This is followed by a swift revaluation of the same property, forcing out existing community members or dissuading others from moving in (NPR).


And when economic justice meets social justice, more tensions arise, evident in the destruction of property during protests this summer. After a history of redlining and dispossession, Black people often live in communities where they don’t own any of the property. Lack of homeownership usually means a lack of local agency; landowners are often prioritized in policies made by local government, as they pay the property taxes that influence funding for local utilities. So when police brutality happens, Black people are not just outraged by the violence itself, but the lack of agency to drive political change. Conservatives will argue that communities are so willing to “destroy their own neighborhoods,” but who’s neighborhoods are they, really, if Black people can’t safely walk the streets to enjoy them? This conversation is explored in-depth by Aaron Ross Coleman in an interview with  Andre M. Perry, a fellow in the Metropolitan Policy Program at the Brookings Institution, a scholar-in-residence at American University, and the author of Know Your Price: Valuing Black Lives and Property in America’s Black Cities, in Vox.

“As long as black lives matter less than the property that they are surrounded by, you never provide incentives not to burn something down. So when people say, “Don’t burn down the goods, businesses, services in your local neighborhood.” They’re missing the point of why people are protesting. The very fact that you have to say that means that they — the property, the goods, the services, the businesses — are so undervalued that the people around them are not respected.”

Andre M. Perry, a fellow, scholar-in-residence, and author, for Vox.

Housing wealth represents a significant amount of American wealth. In fact, homeowners' median net worth was 80 times larger than renters' median net worth in 2015 (Census.gov). And unsurprisingly, the gap between White and Black homeownership today is larger than it was when housing discrimination was legal (CNBC). And considering the added equity homeownership can bring to shaping neighborhoods as a whole, the right to fair homeownership is necessary to create a more equitable future for us all. 


key takeaways


  • Black homeowners routinely experience lower appraisal values than white homeowners.

  • The practice of “redlining” historically made homeownership incredibly difficult for non-white communities, and the discrimination from that time still persists.

  • Homeownership is important for building generational wealth and share of voice in local communities.


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Renée Cherez Nicole Cardoza Renée Cherez Nicole Cardoza

Protect housing rights during COVID-19.

The coronavirus pandemic has and continues to wreak havoc on every sector of society, but perhaps the most pressing is the looming housing catastrophe. COVID-19, a virus that spreads through respiratory droplets, can be regulated with social distancing and quarantine measures, but how can it be controlled if millions of people are forced to live on the streets/

Happy Sunday! Each week we share insights on the racial disparities of COVID-19. I didn't think that when I started this newsletter on June 3 that we'd still be in the midst of this global pandemic, but here we are. And as we wait for Congress to pass a new stimulus deal, we need to do whatever we can to support our community in need. Renée joins us today with a critical look at COVID-19 and housing insecurity.

As we continue to cover COVID-19, remember that these disparities in critical infrastructure – like healthcare, education, housing, employment, etc – always existed here in the U.S. COVID-19 didn't create them, just exposed them. Taking action "during COVID-19" is only for emphasis; we should always do our part to help close these critical gaps in our society.

As always, your support is greatly appreciated. You can give one-time on our websitePayPal or via Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly to our Patreon to contribute regularly.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Tell your Congress representative to take action on housing stability by using this email template.

  • Support GoFundMe campaigns of people looking for support to pay their rent, particularly if they identify as BIPOC. Search by location to find individuals in need near you.


GET EDUCATED


By Renée Cherez (she/her)

The coronavirus pandemic has and continues to wreak havoc on every sector of society, but perhaps the most pressing is the looming housing catastrophe. COVID-19, a virus that spreads through respiratory droplets, can be regulated with social distancing and quarantine measures, but how can it be controlled if millions of people are forced to live on the streets?

 

Of the 110 million Americans living in renter households, the COVID-19 Eviction Defense Project found that between 19 and 23 million people will be at risk for eviction by September 30th (CEDP). The project was created in response to the pandemic and the housing crisis it exacerbates by pairing legal experts with tenants who need legal advice or legal representation.

 

With a three-headed monster nearing: flu season, an imminent second-wave of the coronavirus, and colder weather, more must be done by the federal government to keep people safe and healthy in their homes. The primary federal relief bill passed, the CARES Act, established a moratorium on evictions for federally subsidized homes and homes covered by federally backed mortgages like Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (Bloomberg). While single-family homeowners with federally funded mortgages will receive reprieve until the end of the year, no additional safety nets have been granted to renters (FHFA).

 

Unemployment has reached unprecedented numbers in America, making it even more infuriating that people are facing eviction. During the Great Recession of 2008, unemployment peaked at 10.7% over two years. In May, unemployment reached as high as 14.4% (in 3 months) due to COVID-19 (Pew Research).

 

In July, 32% of U.S. households were unable to make their full housing payments, while 19% missed payment all together (CNBC). At the height of the pandemic, 44.2 million Americans filed for unemployment (Fortune). This past week, one million new unemployment claims were filed, which begs how people can pay their housing costs without a reliable income (CNBC)?  Making people choose between feeding their children and paying rent is inhumane.

 

Unsurprisingly, evictions have a tremendous effect on low-income women, particularly women from Black neighborhoods. A research study in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, found that Black women only make up 9.6% of the population, yet they make up 30% of all evictions. Nationally, 8% of Latinx women and 20% of Black women are evicted each year (Aspen Institute).

 

In New York City, 70% of housing court cases are by women of color head of households, particularly Black and Latinx women (Aspen Institute). Some of the risk factors contributing to women’s eviction are having children, domestic violence, lower wages, and even the power dynamic between male landlords and female tenants. It’s also not uncommon for landlords to maliciously evict people from their homes knowing their building is indeed covered by a federal moratorium (Washington Post).

  

Rent burdened, a term used to describe households who pay more than 30% of their income towards rent disproportionately affects people of color (Aspen Institute). Black and Latinx people make up 80% of national evictions (Harvard Law Review). Another study found Black households were twice as likely than white households to be evicted (Harvard Law Review). During the Covid-19 pandemic in Boston, 70% of market-rate evictions were filed in communities of color; however, those areas only make up half of the city’s rental market (Boston Evictions).

 

During the pandemic’s height, loss of jobs primarily affected people of color at higher rates than their white counterparts. And let’s not forget people with disabilities who notoriously have higher rates of unemployment, LGBTQ+ people who experience homelessness at higher rates, and undocumented immigrants who pay taxes but do not receive unemployment benefits or stimulus assistance (Aspen Institute).

 

These groups of people will undoubtedly experience the hardships that impending evictions will bring, and in some places, they’ve already begun. Tenants in New Orleans have come to find their belongings lining the sidewalk as federal moratoriums expired on August 24th (WSJ). With courts re-opening virtually, millions of people will be forced out of their homes in the coming weeks without help from the federal government.  

 

In May, the House of Representatives passed the HEROES Act, which would authorize a $100 billion fund relief for housing. Republicans have countered with the HEALS Act, which does not offer any housing relief assistance (CNBC).

 

Housing advocates and renter activists are pushing for states, cities, and counties to extend moratoriums on evictions to counter the federal government’s lack of action. The National Low Income Housing Coalition is calling for a national uniformed 12-month moratorium on evictions and foreclosures (NLIHC).

 

In California, Governor Newsom passed a bill that will ban evictions for tenants who’ve been unable to pay their rent citing financial hardship due to the coronavirus; however, they will need to pay at least 25% of their cumulative rent between September 1st and January 31st (KTLA).

 

Homelessness should not only outrage some but all. If this pandemic has made anything clear, people of color bear the brunt of this crisis on every level. It should also illuminate the areas in which the government we pay with our tax dollars should be far more useful in times of crisis.

 

Granting housing assistance to people who live in this country, regardless of their identity and sexual orientation is a fundamental human right and should be free of political gymnastics. As the temperature outside changes, there is work to be done for those being punished for no other reason than being poor in a pandemic.   


key takeaways


  • Between 19 and 23 million people will be at risk for eviction by September 30th.

  • Nationally, 8% of Latina women and 20% of Black women are evicted each year.

  • The National Low Income Housing Coalition is calling for a national uniformed 12-month moratorium on evictions.


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Protect your community from the harm of gentrification.

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Today marks the start of Going Home, a three-part series that analyzes the systemic racism that influences the cities and communities that we call home. Today outlines the impact of gentrification on lower-income communities and communities of color.

Because of the web of practices and policies that enforce systemic racism, we’ll be referencing and expanding upon topics we’ve already discussed. We’ll link to specific articles
 in our archives frequently. Know that this is a resource for you – please search for your question there before reaching out! I added a search bar. We're on Issue #47, so there's lots to read!

We're seeking submissions from readers on several topics – 
review and respond here. And if you haven't already, consider supporting this work with a one-time or monthly contribution. You can give via our websitePayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or give $5/month on Patreon

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION


If you live in a gentrified / gentrifying community:
1. Find a local organization near you advocating for housing justice and take action by signing up to volunteer, donate, or support an event.

2. Review these maps of displacement of Black populations in major cities across the U.S.

GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza

What's Gentrification?

The term “gentrification” was first coined in the 1960s by British sociologist Ruth Glass to describe the displacement of the working-class residents of London neighborhoods by middle-class newcomers (NCRC). 

People tend to center gentrification as an interpersonal issue, focusing on how white millennials with higher income and education levels tend to move to “edgier,” and often non-white, neighborhoods for cheaper rent and more culture. But it’s more systemic than that (and yes, non-white people can contribute to gentrification). Gentrification is market-driven by real estate developers and businesses that follow economic opportunities and encourage wealthier communities to move (NCRC). It’s also fueled politically; realizing the economic benefit of gentrification, state, and local governments shifted their investments to follow suit – moving funds away from public housing and into tax credits and revitalization to make these areas more attractive (Curbed). Altogether, gentrification is a confluence of various factors, which leads to the same result: neighborhoods experience a net loss of low-income residents, housing costs rise, and overall, non-white residents are replaced by higher-income white gentrifiers (NCRC).

It’s important to remember that gentrification is profit-driven, not community-driven. Although many may cite the benefits of concentrated investment in redeveloping urban communities, we have to remember that those benefits aren’t equally distributed. And the most marginalized, vulnerable communities often pay the price.
 

How Gentrification Fuels Displacement


A major component of that is displacement, or, how people are forced out of neighborhoods, because of the impact of gentrification. As mentioned earlier, some of this displacement is a natural response to rising living costs as neighborhoods transform. And some people, of course, choose to stay – despite the difficulties. But a darker, more violent side of displacement has been reported for decades in gentrifying cities across America. Incentivized by the new financial opportunities, landlords have done whatever it takes to get tenants out of their buildings, from threatening them, intentionally creating unsafe living conditions, and even committing arson.

Consider the Hoboken arson wave. Back in the 1960s, the city of Hoboken, NJ was a small and poor community. With just 45,000 residents, Hoboken had the second-highest rate of welfare recipients in the state and a 12% unemployment rate. As New York City swiftly gentrified in the 1970s – fueled by the growth of the financial sector on Wall Street – the close proximity of Hoboken attracted these Ivy League graduate, wealthy young professionals (Washington Post). 

Between 1978 and 1983, nearly 500 fires ripped through tenements and rooming houses throughout the city. The blazes killed 55 people and displaced nearly 8,000 people, the majority of them identifying as Puerto Rican. Most never returned to the city (Journal of American History). Nearly every fire, investigators determined, had been the result of arson, but no one was charged. It was difficult to determine that a landlord was guilty of conspiracy to start a fire in their own building without proof, and at the time, the evidence of economic gain wasn’t enough (Washington Post). 

“In 1980, Olga Ramos, who owned a tenement at 12th and Washington streets, asked the city’s rent-control board for a $50-per-month rent increase, roughly four times the allowed annual cap. After Ramos’s request was denied, she told tenants that she “she would get them out, even if she had to burn down the building.” In the predawn hours of Oct. 24, 1981, a fire swept through the property. Eleven people, including all the members of one family, were killed” (Washington Post). 

Unsurprisingly, this story isn’t unique to Hoboken. Intentional fires were documented throughout Boston’s gentrifying Back Bay neighborhood, downtown Indianapolis, and Chicago during the same time period, each responding to each city’s gentrification (Process History). And a recent spate of arson in the Mission District of San Francisco re-ignited this conversation (GQ) although motivations seem unclear (SFist). Similar stories of landlord sabotage emerged from Brooklyn in the mid-2010s (Gothamist).


Impact of Gentrification


Regardless of how or why, displacement forces lower-income families to move, either further to the fringes of their existing community, or to another community that is worse off, which exacerbates the burdens of poverty that these families are already experiencing. You can read two studies that analyze these trends in Philadephia via U.S. Housing and Urban Development and Science Direct.  The individuals impacted experience the stress and anxiety of relocation, the loss of existing community support systems, and are often burdened with longer commutes – or changing jobs altogether (CJJC). Moving constantly often negatively impacts a lower-income family’s ability to accumulate wealth (American Progress). And systemically, displacement fuels racial and economic segregation that creates increased health risks, disparities in educational funding and opportunities, and other inequalities. Read more about inequities of public school funding in an earlier Anti-Racism Daily newsletter.

Criminalization often increases in gentrifying neighborhoods, as perceptions of what safety and public order change with the new residents. Theories believe that activity that was previously considered normal becomes suspicious, and newcomers—many of whom are white—are more inclined to get law enforcement involved (The Atlantic). This, along with the typical increase of bars and nightlife in gentrifying neighborhoods often leads to more police interactions with the community, and increases the likelihood of a negative interaction between law enforcement and people of color. Beyond that, gentrifying neighborhoods leads to gentrified criminal justice systems, which can accelerate more white people in leadership as, for example, cops or jurors (The Atlantic). Related: Read how 311 calls define gentrifying neighborhoods (NYMag).

Lawyers representing Breonna Taylor's family cite this type of criminalization as why police officers broke down her door executing a nighttime, no-knock warrant, and shot her 8 times. According to the lawsuit, police were using information about drug activity to vacate homes on Elliott Avenue for a "high dollar" real estate development, including new homes, a café, and an amphitheater (CNN). A "primary roadblock" to this project was the home of an ex-boyfriend of Breonna Taylor, who was allegedly linked to criminal activity. The home on Elliott Avenue was about 10 miles away from Taylor's house, but police raided it anyway, allegedly encouraged to speed things along and help get the project completed to fruition (Blavity). 

A spokesperson for Louisville Mayor Greg Fischer refuted the allegations. 

“Fifty years from now, I think there's a strong and frightening possibility that after long waves of investment and disinvestment, you'll have large swaths of the city where the rich are hunkered down, and large parts of the map where poor people can't afford to live and nobody else wants to live there”.—

Sharon Zukin, author of Naked City and professor of sociology at Brooklyn College and the CUNY Graduate Center, for Curbed

Our Responsibility
 

The transformation of urban spaces is inevitable, and many communities are eager to redevelop their community to create more health and economic opportunity. But gentrification doesn’t have to be this way. We must adopt new models that center those most vulnerable when considering redeveloping an existing community. For starters, communities need to center the voices of the existing population to create more participatory policies, advocate for their needs against landlords, and have them as part of the design process (CJJC). 

And in some cases, gentrification has been found to actually benefit the existing community – but many of those individuals are already homeowners, a path that hasn’t equitably been provided to residents in urban communities for generations (we’ll talk about this topic in full at another time, but you can get started with this article from American Progress). So states and governments can offer property tax caps or breaks for existing long-term residents (referred to as “homestead exemptions”) so they can keep their own, or provide renters with the opportunity and financing to purchase their units. Similar initiatives can be extended to local businesses to ensure they can survive, perhaps even thrive, in a new environment (Washington Post). 

The impact of COVID-19 will have interesting implications on real estate development, particularly in once gentrifying neighborhoods (NYTimes). Now more than ever, if you live in a gentrifying community, and especially if you identify as white and have the power and privilege, it’s critical that you get involved. Throughout history, community organizers have rallied for their wellbeing through protests and petitions – consider how Amazon canceled its plans for an NYC headquarters after pushback from the community (The Verge).

We need to recognize how our own implicit biases may contribute to how gentrification is so damaging to communities of color, and, if you're living in a gentrifying neighborhood, you can absolutely ensure that we're uplifting and respecting the local community and its businesses as much as possible. But, as Colin Kinniburgh in this piece for The New Republic says succinctly, "if conscious policy decisions got us into this mess, then conscious policy decisions can get us out". Do your part in ensuring your city represents everyone in your community.

KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Gentrification is driven by market, political and social opportunities discovered in lower-income communities

  • Although gentrification can provide positive benefits to communities, those benefits are not equally distributed, and lower-income communities of color often experience harm

  • Gentrification can contribute to displacement, which disempowers lower-income communities

  • It is up to us to rally at all levels to create more equitable community redevelopment


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.

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Happy Sunday,

I had hoped that our COVID-19 reporting would be a reflective take on a global pandemic that was fading away; a distant memory from spring. But as the U.S. continues to hit single-day records for most of July, I'm still overwhelmed by how it persists. 

This week we also learned that George Floyd said "I can't breathe" more than twenty times while Derek Chauvin kneeled on his neck, once retorting "it takes a heck of a lot of oxygen to talk" (
The Guardian). 

I've been thinking a lot about how difficult it is right now for my community to breathe – because of a disease that's stealing our lungs, because of police brutality that chokes us, and because of the environmental racism that smogs our communities. Today's newsletter on the relationship between COVID-19 and air pollution is just another example of how the most essential part of life – our birthright to breathe – has been systemically robbed from so many; become a privilege for so few. The notion itself is suffocating.  

I hope today's newsletter, and all of the content we review here, encourage each of us to take deep breaths and appreciate the simple fact that we are all still here, breathing through it all – and to use that energy to take action so all of us can breathe.

Nicole

ps – your support is greatly appreciated. You can make a one-time contribution on 
PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or contribute monthly on Patreon.

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TAKE ACTION


View the state of the air quality in your community, compared to surrounding communities. U.S. residents can use State of the Air for U.S., data, or explore worldwide trends on this map.


GET EDUCATED


The correlation between COVID-19 and air pollution.


Populations that experience high levels of air pollution are more likely to get and die from COVID-19. A team of Harvard data scientists recently determined that a person living in areas with high particulate pollution is 15% more likely to die from COVID than someone living in an area with only slightly less air pollution (Harvard). And this isn't surprising; studies have shown that the SARS outbreak of 2002-2004 and yearly spread of influenza are also associated with pollution levels (Stanford), so it would only make sense that this disease would act similarly.

We also know that areas with communities of color are more likely to experience high levels of air pollution than white people, contributing to the disproportionate impact of COVID-19 in the Black and Hispanic communities (Futurity). A longitudinal study measured the exposure of various U.S. cities to nitrogen dioxide (NO2), a transportation-related pollutant, and found that exposure was 2.7x higher in non-white neighborhoods than white ones. And although overall exposure to NO2 dropped between 2000 and 2010 because of various environmental initiatives, the racial disparities in exposure increased (Futurity).

“At any income level—low to medium to high—there’s a persistent gap by race, which is completely indefensible. It says a lot about how segregated neighborhoods still are and how things are segregated”.


– Julian Marshall, professor of civil and environmental engineering at the University of Washington, in Futurist

This isn't accidental. Pollution isn't distributed evenly across the country. In fact, although white people create more pollution on average, communities of color are statistically more likely to be impacted by it. In fact, African Americans are 75% more likely to live in communities adjacent to sources of pollution (Futurist). Because of our long history of economic inequity and housing discrimination, low-income and minority neighborhoods are "clustered around industrial sites, truck routes, ports and other air pollution hotspots" (Scientific American).

Air pollution alone doesn't just increase the likelihood of contracting and dying from COVID-19. It's a major contributor towards those pre-existing conditions that make COVID-19 more dangerous. Diabetes, for example, may be aggravated from small pollution particulates that increase insulin resistance (Stanford). Asthma rates are as much as four times higher in the Bronx than the rest of the country, mirroring data from other cities (Scientific American). Individuals who live in predominately Black communities suffered from a higher risk of premature death from particle pollution as compared to those who live in predominantly white communities (Forbes). And another study concludes that 14% of all cardiovascular events, and 8% of cardiovascular deaths, are attributable to air pollution (NYTimes).

Another compounding issue? Stress. Stress from social and economic conditions actually exacerbates the effects of pollution – meaning that people that experience the same amount of pollution can be impacted differently based on other stressful factors of their lives, like poor people v. those more affluent, or communities of color v. white people (Scientific American).

“So if I’m exposed to air pollution but I otherwise live in a pretty nice neighborhood, I don’t have a very stressful life… how does that differ from, I’m exposed to air pollution and I live in a cruddy house in a cruddy neighborhood and I have a very stressful life? How do the social factors in my life affect my resiliency to environmental exposure?”


– Marie Lynn Miranda, dean of University of Michigan’s School of Natural Resources and Environment and director of the Children’s Environmental Health Initiative, in Scientific American

We know that the lockdowns from COVID-19 had a positive impact on outdoor air quality, differences that could even be seen from space (IEEE). But as cities around the world have eased restrictions, air pollution has returned. The air quality in Chicago has been "worse than Los Angeles" for most of July, prompting the EPA to label it as “unhealthy for sensitive groups” (Chicago Tribune).

Protecting our environmental health, particularly for those disproportionately impacted, needs to be a priority to achieve health equity in our society, and prevent the disparities in the impact of future diseases like COVID-19. Unfortunately, this administration isn't prioritizing regulations necessary to create change (you can read a comprehensive overview at the NYTimes). It will take policy to create the systemic change necessary for all of us to breathe easy.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Air pollution is a contributing factor to COVID-19 contracting and death rates

  • Communities of color are disproportionately impacted by air pollution

  • Air pollution causes a series health complications

  • Stress not related to air pollution can compound the impact of air pollution on certain populations


PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Investigate school district funding disparities.

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Hi,

Right now the Trump administration is pushing states to reopen schools. Yet as COVID-19 rages, back-to-school is looking more perilous each and every day.

But what will children being going back to? Educational opportunities differ drastically based on location. In this week's issue on education, we're analyzing why there's such disparities in funding between white and non-white school districts.

This work is possible because of your contributions – you can 
invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep this community growing. Thank you for your support! 

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION


1. Explore this interactive tool that shows you what your local school district would like if it was more integrated (U.S. Residents).

2. Get the facts: How is your state or city's education budget changing based on COVID-19 ?

3. Reflect. How did your education as a 10-year-old inform your relationship to anti-racism work? Consider what you learned, who you went to school with, who your teachers were, etc.

GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza

How much of a difference does $23 billion make, anyway?


That's the question districts had to ask themselves after a study showcased that predominantly white school districts receive $23 billion more funding than districts that serve mostly students of color (Chalkbeat). This creates gross inequities in opportunities between white and non-white students. It also creates inherently segregated schools – after all, these distinctions wouldn't be possible if schools had a diverse demographic of students from all racial and ethnic backgrounds and income levels. 

This is because funding for public schools is largely driven by the local property taxes paid by local individuals and businesses. School districts located in spaces where there are thriving businesses and well-off families generally receive more funding (more on this at NPR). And since there are so many systemic issues that prevent businesses from scaling, families from generating income and wealth, and neighborhoods from thriving, you can imagine how easy it is to have underfunded schools. I just glossed over a LOT in this sentence – and each point deserves their own email.

But how is this possible? Didn't we figure out fair and equal education with Brown v. Board of Education, that landmark case that declared racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional in 1954, and also dismantled the idea of "separate but equal" (NMAAHC)? If only it were that simple. The case that actually made the educational landscape we see (not the one history books sell) is Milliken v. Bradley.

The impact of Milliken v. Bradley

In 1970, the NAACP sued Michigan to desegregate schools in Detroit – one of the most segregated cities in the country (NYTimes). The goal was to get more of the city students, who were predominately Black, mixed into the mainly white communities of the suburbs, and mixing the local funding that went with them/ The judge, realized that the government shouldn't be in charge of creating school districts and assigning students to certain regions because they're the reason this mess existed in the first place. Instead, he ruled to have districts not exist – evenly distribute funding and students across the region (Washington Post). It wasn't a flawless plan, but it was a start – and a pretty bold declaration for the time.

But in July 1974, the Supreme Court overturned this decision, citing that there wasn't enough evidence that the city ever practiced racial segregation to warrant losing the responsibility to draw school zones. The mayor of a white suburb had just told some newspapers that "I favor segregation" and “Every time we hear of a Negro moving…in, we respond quicker than you do to a fire" but *insert shrug emoji* (Washington Post).

"Piercing school district borders – the walls that prevent enrollment or, in many cases, funds from being spread more evenly between white or relatively more affluent districts and ones populated by black, brown, or poorer families nearby – isn’t a simple task, politically or logistically. But the five justices who wrote Milliken 40 years ago wanted us to believe something else: that it wasn’t a necessary task, morally”.


Daniel Hertz, Washington Post

So this means that local politics can define a child's future. Leaders can choose whether to draw school zones (smaller areas around one or a few schools) and districts (which constitute a number of zones) in ways that hoard wealth for a select group of students, or wield this power to try and create more equitable learning opportunities, and diversify attendance. And unfortunately, studies show that schools in the South are as segregated now as they were about 50 years ago (Vox). And even today, "only about half of America's 50 million public school students attend integrated schools" (NPR).
 

Inadequate funding makes a major impact – especially now.

States are supposed to even out the funding disparities, but this is the exception more than the rule. In fact, every state in the country has been sued by a school district around inequitable funding (NPR). A recent example is in New Hampshire, where a local school district believes the state should be providing 3x the funding to provide an "adequate education" for its students (NHPR). You can see the funding disparities by state here (US News).

This means that, on average, well-funded school districts spend $2,200 more per student than others (Chalkbeat). And that usually easy to see. School districts with lower budgets tend to have lower teacher retention rates and more teacher strikes due to lower salaries and benefits, professional development, decreased job security, and unfair working conditions. Related, many school districts have less to money to spend on school supplies, forced to pay out of pocket or resort to crowdfunding campaigns like DonorsChoose to meet needs like books, warm clothing and personal hygiene products, and ways to boost health and wellness in the classroom (edfunders.org). 

These disparities – like many other racial inequities that already exist – are exacerbated during COVID-19, as schools with limited funding and infrastructure struggle to provide the right tools, training, and resources to staff and students to support remote learning (Teen Vogue). Because many of these same students face limited access to technology and internet at home, the lack of resources available from the school itself is especially damaging.

And consider the lasting impact COVID-19 will have on already strained budgets. States are already slashing school budgets and laying off staff, knowing the gross economic impact of this global pandemic (read more specific examples by state in the Washington Post). It's important to note here that, because of the Great Recession, 31 states sill spent less money per student in 2014 than they did in 2008 (NPR).

And although the CARES act allocated $13.2 billion in aid to schools nationwide using Title I funds (funds designated for students from low-income families), the Dept. of Education is allowing some of those funds to support private institutions, instead of communities that need it most (Time). As a result, five states are suing the Dept. of Education and Education Secretary Betsy DeVos, including California, Maine, New Mexico, Wisconsin, and D.C (Time). You can learn more about the funding and how it can be used here, via Future-Ed.

So, how do we change this? The team at EdBuild, who published the "$23 billion" study mentioned at the beginning, advocated for every state to evenly distribute funding across districts, a practice that 13 states do currently (NPR). We also have to do significantly more to change housing inequity and wealth inequity in the neighborhoods that fosters the disparities in funding. It's not a simple fix, but a necessary one, in our fight for equitable educational opportunities for all students.

KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • School districts are inherently inequitable in racial / ethnic populations and the funding they receive

  • Only half of students in America go to integrated schools, despite Brown v. Board of Education

  • The overturning of the Milliken v. Bradley case in 1974 granted states power to decide how school districts would be drawn, despite histories of racial segregation

  • COVID-19 exacerbates these inequities and will likely have a lasting impact

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT


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

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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Understand disparities in healthcare treatment.

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It's Sunday, so we're continuing our weekly series that analyzes the racial disparities exposed by COVID-19. I hoped this series would feel like old news after a while because I was hopeful COVID-19 rates would decline.

But, as we watch some states reach their all-time highs, it's clear that this global pandemic is here to stay. Which also means that unless more action is taken, the disparities in testing and treatment will persist. Today we isolate these differences and how they've been pervasive in our healthcare system for decades.

Consider investing to keep these daily emails going. You can give 
one-time on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe monthly on Patreon – just like a newspaper subscription.

Nicole 

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TAKE ACTION


  1. See if your city or state has an equity task force to support those most vulnerable in your community. If not, contact your local officials to ask why.

  2. Sign the petition from the Black Lives Matter movement demanding the collection and release of more racial demographic data related to COVID-19: https://blacklivesmatter.com/demand-racial-data-on-coronavirus/

GET EDUCATED


Racial disparities in treatment started well before COVID-19.
 

Note: This is our third installation of the series analyzing how systemic and interpersonal racism impacts the disproportionate impact of COVID-19 on communities of color. As we focus on disparities in treatment today, it's important to remember that this is not the sole, singular issue causing disparities of COVID-19. And although we're looking at in isolation for the sake of this newsletter, solving it alone won't solve everything. I say this not to be pessimistic, but to emphasize how pervasive and interconnected racism is in all aspects of our society. It's recommended you read our previous emails in the series:

Racism as a public health crisis
Protect essential workers

Understanding the full scope of the impact of COVID-19 was greatly limited in disproportionate access to testing. And although state and city–level data on COVID-19 and racial / ethnic backgrounds varies widely, initial reports are clear. In NYC, two-thirds of the 30 ZIP codes with the highest rates of testing were either whiter or wealthier — and frequently both — than the city average population (via NYPost). NPR found that testing sites are disproportionately found in white neighborhoods in 4 of the 6 biggest cities in Texas (via NPR). Initial rollouts of the partnership between the Trump administration and major drugstores (Walgreens, CVS, Target and Walmart) was also inequitable: out of the 63 sites, only 8 were in Black neighborhoods (via Vox). Inequitable testing doesn't just prevent individuals from quarantining and caring for themselves more difficult. It prevents local governments and healthcare providers from adequately preparing for a spike in cases, leaving the system weakened based on this lack of information.

Beyond testing, many cases of disparities in treatment are causing people to die, evident in stories like this Deborah Gatewood (via Blavity) and Jason Hargrove (via Time) in Detroit, two Black frontline workers that were both turned away from the hospital multiple times before dying of COIVD-19 at home. These stories are especially unsettling to read because in Michigan, 40% of the people that have died from COVID-19 are Black, although only consisting of 14% of the population (via Michigan state COVID-19 data). But these stories aren't unique to Detroit, like the stories of Reginald Relf (via NYTimes), Gary Fowler (who was never officially tested for COVID-19) (USA Today), and Rana Zoe Mungin (via UMass). 

But treatment disparities, too, have a deep history. One study of 400 hospitals in the U.S. showed that black patients with heart disease received older, cheaper, and more conservative treatments than their white counterparts. Black people were also less likely to receive coronary bypass operations, and discharged earlier from the hospital than white patients—at a stage when discharge is inappropriate (via American Bar).

“Race doesn’t put you at higher risk. Racism puts you at higher risk.”

Camara Phyllis Jones, epidemiologist and family physician in Scientific American

If you spend time on social media, you may have seen the viral TikTok video by Oregon-based OBGYN Dr. Jennifer Lincoln where she talks about the differences in care (watch video and learn more on Buzzfeed). In it, she states that "a 2016 study showed that 50% of medical students and residents who were studied thought that Black people couldn't feel pain the same way because they had thicker skin or their nerves didn't work the same way," which surprised many, but is absolutely true (read the full study here). The study makes the claim that these perceptions are likely to influence how doctors support pain management for Black people, which was also noted in the study (via American Bar).

Note: The video goes on to discuss how these false perceptions are rooted in the days of slavery. We'll discuss this in depth in another newsletter, but this NYTimes article is a powerful explanation of how physical racial difference between Black people and white people were used to justify enslavement.

These points illuminate that disparities in healthcare aren't just caused by structural factors, but individual ones as well. The study stresses that the implicit biases of physicians and health care providers are a contributing factor to these differences in treatment. And when physicians were given the Implicit Association Test (IAT)—a test that purports to measure test takers’ implicit biases by asking them to link images of black and white faces with pleasant and unpleasant words under intense time constraints—"they tend to associate white faces and pleasant words (and vice versa) more easily than black faces and pleasant words (and vice versa)" (American Bar).

You can take the test for yourself for free on the Harvard website, but know that it's not designed to be an individual assessment (via Vox). I recommend taking the test more to understand what implicit bias is, and how the aggregated data can inform research.

The CDC updated their recommendations for supporting racial and ethnic minorities to include implicit biases, citing that healthcare providers should "provide training to help providers identify their implicit biases, making sure providers understand how these biases can affect the way they communicate with patients and how patients react" (quote from CDC websiteinsight from NYTimes).

As Congress works to pass a bill creating a federal task force to address COVID-19's disproportionate impact (via Kamala Harris' website), cities across the country have started to implement their own health equity task forces (see work from BostonNYCHouston and Michigan). But is it too little too late? Even if testing locations can grow to keep up with demand, and be placed in accessible locations for everyone, implicit biases may not be able to be solved in just a training or workshop. However, as the devastating impact of COVID-19 persists, we can only hope this critical attention will help to combat the scope of its impact on marginalized communities.

There are countless other examples of disparities in healthcare treatment in specific contexts – like maternal health and traumatic brain injuries, for starters – that we will unpack in future newsletters.

KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Existing disparities in our healthcare system exacerbate how we test and treat COVID-19 for specific populations

  • These disparities are structural and individual, showing that our relationship to racism at all levels influences how we can take care of those most marginalized

  • Efforts are underway, but it's unclear if it's enough to combat the rampant spread of the disease

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT


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

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

Read More