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Fight to close Guantanamo Bay.
During his first term, President Barack Obama promised to close the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay (New Yorker). Yet 40 people still remain incarcerated there today (New York Times). Opened by President Bush as a response to the 9/11 attacks, Guantanamo is a prison camp in which the United States military has incarcerated over 700 Muslim men without charges or trials (New York Times). Earlier this year, Amnesty International reported the historic and ongoing human rights violations at Guantanamo Bay which include forced feedings of those on hunger strike, and improper medical care of torture survivors (Amnesty International).
Happy Wednesday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Last week we discussed the nuances of counterterrorism policies and its disproportionate impact on communities of color. Today's newsletter by Reina expands on this topic, and advocates for the closing of Guantanamo Bay as part of our reckoning with the inequitable criminal justice system.
As a reminder, revisit our election safety plan and connect with local community organizers in response to uprising re: today's inauguration.
This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also support by joining our curated digital community.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
To work toward the closure of Guantanamo:
Support prisoners by reading their books (like Enemy Combatant by Moazzam Begg) and articles.
Sign up for Reprieve’s mailing list to get actions straight to your inbox. Reprieve is a legal action non-profit that defends marginalized people against human rights abuses.
Join CAGE’s campaign, an organization that empowers communities impacted by the War on Terror.
GET EDUCATED
By Reina Sultan (she/her)
During his first term, President Barack Obama promised to close the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay (New Yorker). Yet 40 people still remain incarcerated there today (New York Times). Opened by President Bush as a response to the 9/11 attacks, Guantanamo is a prison camp in which the United States military has incarcerated over 700 Muslim men without charges or trials (New York Times). Earlier this year, Amnesty International reported the historic and ongoing human rights violations at Guantanamo Bay which include forced feedings of those on hunger strike, and improper medical care of torture survivors (Amnesty International).
“Bush chose to imprison us on Guantanamo because he could argue that it was not US soil and hence US laws didn't apply,” Moazzam Begg, Outreach Director at CAGE and former Guantanamo prisoner, tells me. “[But] Guantanamo is illegal. Incarcerating people without charge or trial - after they were kidnapped and tortured by the most powerful nation in the world - is a crime.”
During the anti-police violence uprisings in the summer of 2020, the demand to defund the police brought abolition into the national conversation. Folks who had never even considered what a world without police and prisons would look like began reading Mariame Kaba, Ruth Wilson Gilmore, and Angela Davis, while really analyzing whether the carceral state actually delivers justice (it doesn’t). Policing and prisons remain heavily debated topics today, especially as leading Democrats remain steadfastly supportive of the police despite this past summer’s events (Bitch Media).
As the leading thinkers on abolition remind us often, we must think about abolition in a global sense. When we look at the injustices done at Guantanamo, we see the ways in which the United States polices the world and exports its racist and Islamophobic practices as far as it can reach (Wear Your Voice Mag). “The prisoners in Guantanamo had nothing to do with America or its (lack of) justice system and penal code. They never came to America, America came to them,” says Begg.
Closing Guantanamo is of the utmost importance, especially after the events of January 6th (Washington Post). As the world watched violent white supremacists storm the chambers of Congress, many rushed to call them terrorists while others cautioned against this. (For more on the problems with the word “terrorist” in this context, check out our recent newsletter). By claiming the United States has a terrorism problem, politicians can justify even bigger budgets for police, the FBI, the CIA, and agencies like ICE.
We must not give Islamophobic, racist government officials more power to imprison and torture people. One of the reasons that Guantanamo so often falls out of the consciousness of Americans is because all of the prisoners are Muslim.
“If there was a US prison built to detain and torture white Christian men, there's no way there wouldn't be an uproar,” Dr. Maha Hilal, Co-Director of Justice for Muslims Collective & organizer with Witness Against Torture, tells me. “But thanks to a legacy of the dehumanization of Muslims in addition to post 9/11 War on Terror narratives, Muslims have been thoroughly demonized.” Begg agrees, explaining that “prisoners [in Guantanamo Bay] were mostly from Africa or Asia, Muslims who came from different cultures and didn't speak English. That was enough to render them subhuman in the eyes of a military seeking vengeance for 9/11.”
According to Dr. Hilal, many people believe that while “‘normal’ crime is attributed to a lack of services/support, terrorists [are seen as] inherently hateful and, therefore, irredeemable, unlike others accused [or] convicted of crimes.” She argues that we must “further deconstruct terrorism as a concept so it's not weaponized as being radically different” from other crimes.
Closing Guantanamo is just one part of a process of reconciliation that the United States has yet to begin regarding its complicity in the global War on Terror (Prism). The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, drone strikes in Pakistan, support of Israel and Saudi Arabia, and sanctions in Iran have cost hundreds of thousands of lives (source). Millions have been dehumanized and traumatized by the United State’s Islamophobia, imperialism, and endless wars.
We must remember that prison industrial complex abolition is a global demand, meaning we hope to free every incarcerated person worldwide--not just in the United States. We must acknowledge the horrors that have happened and continue to happen in Guantanamo and work to ensure they never happen again.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
PIC (Prison Industrial Complex) abolition is a global demand, not one that just applies to US-based prisons and jails.
There are still 40 men held at Guantanamo Bay. Each day they are not free is an injustice.
Committing to closing Guantanamo is the bare minimum for the Biden administration. We must pressure them to provide compensation, housing, and services for all of the survivors and to commit to ending all US-sanctioned torture.
RELATED ISSUES
1/12/2021 | Abolish the death penalty.
1/6/2201 | End felony disenfranchisement.
7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.
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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Understand your local law enforcement.
As we mentioned back in June, the term “defund the police” became a critical part of this election season. Moderate Democrats argue that it discouraged people from supporting candidates (Time). Progressive Democrats disagree, noting that efforts to change policing were passed in several states (Vox). While reading these conversations, remember that this work needs to persevere far beyond the phrase’s sentiment. Here’s an updated FAQ on the work at hand.
Happy Monday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily! Right now, Democrats are debating how the phrase "defund the police" played out at the polls this month. Today, we're revisiting what defund the police means and how you can take action. Unlike before when we centered takeaways around the national discourse, today we're encouraging you to unpack how it affects your community locally.
This is the Anti-Racism Daily, a daily newsletter with tangible ways to dismantle racism and white supremacy. You can support our work by making a one-time contribution on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Learn the talking points on defunding the police offered by the Movement for Black Lives to host conversations in your community.
Attend your next city council meeting to learn how they invest in local law enforcement (many are hosting virtually). You may also find transcripts or archives of previous meetings online.
Use this toolkit created by the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights to effectively advocate for divestment.
Tell your Congressperson to support the BREATHE Act, which advocates for divestment in order to reimagine public safety.
GET EDUCATED
By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)
As we mentioned back in June, the term “defund the police” became a critical part of this election season. Moderate Democrats argue that it discouraged people from supporting candidates (Time). Progressive Democrats disagree, noting that efforts to change policing were passed in several states (Vox). While reading these conversations, remember that this work needs to persevere far beyond the phrase’s sentiment. Here’s an updated FAQ on the work at hand.
What does “defund the police” even mean?
The rally to defund the police is a call-to-action for communities to change the law enforcement by re-allocating funding spent on police departments to other necessary infrastructure, including violence prevention programs, public housing, health care, mental health care, and education. These efforts challenge longstanding notions that directly correlate police to safety, one that has been proven ineffective for protecting non-white people, particularly Black and queer people in the U.S. (Neighborhood Funders Group).
"
It’s not just about taking away money from the police, it’s about reinvesting those dollars into Black communities. Communities that have been deeply divested from, communities that, some have never felt the impact of having true resources. And so we have to reconsider what we’re resourcing. I've been saying we have an economy of punishment over an economy of care.
― Patrisse Cullors in a conversation on WBUR Here & Now
This terminology was created by abolitionist doing the work. It was not created to be a rallying cry for any political party during an election. The current debate about whether the term was “friendly” enough misses a key point – that the Democratic party was not prepared to take a solid stance on this issue; powerful community organizers have carried this conversation into the spotlight.
What does “abolish the police” mean?
This is a more long-term and radical call for not just divesting from law enforcement but completing re-imagining the entire criminal justice system. For some, defunding the police is a start to transforming the system as a whole (NYTimes).
What is the difference between abolition and reform?
Generally, “reformists” believe that the current system can be changed if there’s more effort in changing it. When it comes to police reform vs. abolition, reformists often argue for more investment into law enforcement to create further accountability, like training, body cameras, etc. You can view a chart of the key differences between the two stances here (Critical Resistance).
Does defunding the police mean getting rid of police officers entirely?
No. Defunding the police means "shrinking the scope of police responsibilities and shifting most of what government does to keep us safe to entities that are better equipped to meet that need,” says Christy E. Lopez, a Georgetown Law professor and co-director of the school’s Innovative Policing Program (Washington Post).
MPD150, a Minneapolis-based initiative by organizers aiming to bring "meaningful structural change" to police in the city, focuses on who responds when someone calls 911. Instead of sending a police officer, they're advocating that we could send social workers, mental health care providers, and victim/survivor advocates, among others.
By doing so, we can decrease the burden placed on police officers, who are currently tasked to respond to a wide range of requests from their community (USA Today).
But not all police are bad! Why change everything over bad apples?
Yes, not every police officer is racist. Not all police officers kill Black people. But this is not the argument. This isn't a conversation about bad apples, but a poisoned orchard. Remember that the police system has systemically hurt Black communities throughout time because it's built on a system of racism and white supremacy. Consider:
1 in every 1,000 black men can expect to be killed by police (PNAS)
The Minneapolis police use force against Black people at 7x the rate of white people (NYTimes)
Policing in southern slave-holding states had roots in slave patrols – groups of white volunteers empowered to use vigilante tactics to enforce laws related to slavery (The Conversation)
The "bad apples" argument is an incredibly harmful refrain. It doesn’t just prevent conversations from moving forward. It protects white supremacy and systemic oppression and completely discredits the pain, suffering, and grief these "bad apples" have caused to individual families and entire communities impacted by their actions.
But won't there be more crime if there's less law enforcement?
Unlikely. Many citizens are concerned that a decrease in law enforcement will increase crime. But by investing in other systems of support, advocates of defunding the police find this unlikely. Also, studies have shown that more police doesn't equal less crime (USA Today). Some police chiefs, including Metropolitan Police Chief Peter Newsham in DC, have warned that decreasing police budgets can create inadequate training resources, which can increase bad policing (read more at DCist). But by re-investing appropriately, this isn’t likely.
How can I help?
The most critical way to move this work forward is to see beyond public perception. Get to know the local community organizers that are pushing for this work in your community. Review conversations your city council has had on this topic. And move past how people feel about “defund the police” generally to how it impacts your community specifically: your local schools, sidewalks, and city centers. It may mean analyzing how your privilege defines your relationship with law enforcement and how your experience differs from those around you. This work is not easeful or comfortable but necessary for creating a more equitable future.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Defunding the police allows communities to re-invest in other forms of community support
The police system is inherently inequitable, and deeply rooted in racism and white supremacy
It's important to take this work into your local community, while supporting the community organizers fighting for change
RELATED ISSUES
10/14/2020 | Fight racist death row sentencing.
9/3/2020 | Support mental health response services.
8/24/2020 | Demand justice for Jacob Blake.
7/15/2020 | End racial bias in school discipline.
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
Learn the history of the Texas Rangers.
But behind each hashtag is a person. This time, his name was Jonathan Price. He was a 31-year-old from Wolfe City, Texas, a small town outside Dallas. He was a “motivational speaker, a mentor to student-athletes in the area, and a frequent participant in community service activities” (Yahoo News). He was beloved by his community. And on October 3rd, he defused a fight he witnessed between a man and a woman at a convenience store. For his intervention, he was killed. To be more precise: on October 3rd, a police officer, a Texas Ranger, murdered an unarmed Jonathan Price as he walked away from the scene (Washington Post).
Happy Sunday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Each day, we send one email to spark action – and dismantle racism and systemic oppression in the U.S. To support our work, you can donate one-time or monthly on our website, Patreon, Paypal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza.
Last week we published an article about sports team names that glorify violence against communities of color. Today, Jami unpacks the history of the Texas Rangers and demands justice for another Black man whose life was stolen away. Read and rally for accountability in your community.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Ensure Jonathan Price stays part of the conversation. Demand #JusticeforJonathan.
Call for police accountability in your community. Follow up on conversations on defunding the police and re-investing in other community support systems.
Reflect: Are there any groups, people, or institutions like the Texas Rangers that are romanticized or glorified in your area? Take a careful look at the history behind those local legends. Did their glory come at others’ expense?
GET EDUCATED
By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)
If you stumbled across the #JusticeforJonathan hashtag recently, you could probably guess what it referred to, even without context. This is what we have learned to expect in America: another day, another name, another Black person killed by the police. Because these events happen so frequently, people can easily tune out the deaths, especially when they aren’t as high-profile as George Floyd’s or Breonna Taylor’s.
But behind each hashtag is a person. This time, his name was Jonathan Price. He was a 31-year-old from Wolfe City, Texas, a small town outside Dallas. He was a “motivational speaker, a mentor to student-athletes in the area, and a frequent participant in community service activities” (Yahoo News). He was beloved by his community. And on October 3rd, he defused a fight he witnessed between a man and a woman at a convenience store. For his intervention, he was killed. To be more precise: on October 3rd, a police officer murdered an unarmed Jonathan Price as he walked away from the scene (Washington Post). For more about Jonathan Price, read Marquise Francis’s article from Yahoo News.
When I read that, I thought about the line from our recent newsletter on being an active bystander: “It’s important to note that being an active bystander often takes privilege.” Jonathan Price intervened as an active bystander to stop the violence he happened to see, and yet, because he was a Black man, he was murdered for his efforts. This, unfortunately, is not surprising when we think of the litany of “reasons” the police have killed Black people. What is surprising, though, is that the officer was charged with murder in the next few days (WFAA). Unfortunately, as Americans are well aware, both the charges themselves and the speed with which they were deployed are a rarity.
To better understand the context of this police shooting, we need to look at the unique history and structure of the Texas Rangers, an influential agency within Texas law enforcement. The Texas Rangers, a “division within the Texas Department of Public Safety with lead criminal investigative responsibility” (Texas.gov), are unlike the state police in other states. They have broader power and higher-level responsibilities, like overseeing special operations and SWAT teams (Dallas Morning News).
More importantly, the Texas Rangers have captured American popular imagination in a way no other state law enforcement agency has. They were mythologized in the character of the Lone Ranger, of radio, TV, movie, and comic book fame (History), and in the later Walker, Texas Ranger TV series, which ran from 1993 to 2001 (IMDB). Even the 1986 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove (and subsequent Emmy-nominated miniseries) is based on the exploits of former Texas Rangers (Pulitzer). The law enforcement agency is also memorialized in the name of the Arlington-based Major League Baseball team (Dallas News).
In such media, the Texas Rangers are portrayed as do-good defenders of the law, with a staunch moral code, battling for the soul of the Old West. Americans love such stories because we have a collective nostalgia for the West. But our collective nostalgia is, at its core, collective amnesia. The saying “History belongs to the victors” is exemplified by the fact that we still view westward expansion through the lens of the rugged, individual (white) American spirit – instead of through the lens of colonialism and genocide. For more on the myth of the frontier, check out our previous newsletter on racism in sports team names.
In the case of the Texas Rangers, when we remember only the Lone Ranger and the like, we ignore the racism and white supremacy at the root of the institution. In the early 1820s, the Texas Rangers began a small, informal army to “protect” the white settlers from the Indigenous people whose land they occupied. According to the founder, Stephen T. Austin, protection meant the eradication of the Native tribes: “There is no way of subduing them but extermination” (Texas Monthly).
In the 1910s, the expanded, established Texas Rangers participated in similar violence:
"
[The Texas Rangers] didn't invent police brutality, but they perfected it down there on the [Texas-Mexico] border, where they operated as what we would now term death squads… They executed hundreds, perhaps thousands of Mexicans and Mexican Americans. And some of those were bandits who had attacked white-owned farms and ranches, but many of them had committed no crimes. You know, they were guilty of having brown skin.Doug J. Swanson, author of Cult of Glory: The Bold and Brutal History of the Texas Rangers, on NPR
Over the next century, their violence towards people of color continued. Before the Civil War, they collected bounties for escaped enslaved people; after the Civil War, they ignored the lynching of Black men (Texas Monthly). In the 1918 Porvenir Massacre, 15 unarmed Tejano men and youth were “taken into custody, denied due process, and executed en masse” by the Texas Rangers (Texas State Historical Association).
Some might argue that we cannot judge an institution today based on their actions in the early 1800s. But even in 1956, the Texas Rangers merely watched while a gravel-throwing white mob prevented Black students from entering their school. A decade later, they assaulted Mexican American workers while breaking a strike (Star-Tribune). Institutional rot spreads and trickles down.
It is true that Jonathan Price’s murder was not organized or sanctioned by the Texas Rangers themselves, and that they charged the responsible officer relatively quickly. Yet the officer’s actions descend from the same racist beliefs upon which the Texas Rangers were founded. Jonathan Price deserves justice— the kind of justice denied to all the other Indigenous, Mexican, and Black people the Texas Rangers killed over the last two centuries. And the rest of us need to ensure we do not succumb to collective amnesia. We must remember the truth behind the myths of the American West.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Jonathan Price, a 31-year-old Black man from Wolfe City, Texas, was walking away after breaking up a fight when a Texas Ranger shot and killed him on October 3, 2020.
The Texas Rangers law enforcement agency is mythologized in popular media. Rangers are often depicted as moral defenders of the law, battling for the soul of the Old West.
The agency was founded in the 1820s specifically to protect white settlers by “exterminating” (killing) the Native residents.
In the 1910s, Texas Rangers massacred hundreds of Mexicans and Mexican Americans along the border.
RELATED ISSUES
6/17/2020 | Learn about the history of lynching in America.
9/24/2020 | Demand justice for Breonna Taylor.
8/26/2020 | Be an active bystander.
8/24/2020 | Demand justice for Jacob Blake.
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
Support mental health response services.
Happy Thursday!
And a special three month anniversary to the Anti-Racism Daily! How long have you been on this journey with us? Take a look back and reflect on what you've learned. Do you have a story about how you've put the ARD into action? Let me know by replying to this email – we might feature you on our podcast launching next week! 🎉
But first, be sure to read today's call to advocate for alternative mental health response services in your community. Our criminal justice system wasn't designed for this, and as we demand justice for Daniel Prude we must also create more accountability for the safety of those most vulnerable.
As always, your contributions are so appreciated! You can give on our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe monthly on our Patreon.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Research: What are the alternatives to calling 911 in your city?
Are there none? Learn what your city council is planning for future budget spending related to law enforcement. Fight for an alternative.
Donate to the GoFundMe to support the family of Daniel Prude.
GET EDUCATED
On March 23, Joe Prude noticed his brother, Daniel Prude, acting strangely and called the police for help. Officers found Daniel Prude naked and unarmed. He complied with officers’ demands and was quickly handcuffed. The officers then placed a spit sock – a mesh device used to shield police officers from spit and blood from the victim – over Prude’s head, one asking him whether or not he had AIDS. The officers then pin Prude down on the ground for over two minutes, ignoring Prude’s cries for help and continue to kneel on him as he appears to stop breathing. The family took Prude off of life support the following week. The medical examiner determined Prude’s death was a homicide. The police body camera footage was recently released as the family and local activists demand justice. Full story on The Appeal.
“I placed the phone call for my brother to get help, not for my brother to get lynched. When I say get lynched, that was full fledged, murder, cold-blooded — nothing other than cold-blooded murder. The man is defenseless, naked on the ground, cuffed up already. I mean come on, how many brothers got to die for society to understand that this needs to stop? You killed a defenseless black man, a father’s son, a brother’s brother, a nephew’s uncle.”
Joe Prude, the brother of Daniel Prude, for Rochester First
Ashley Gantt, a community organizer from Free the People Roc and the New York Civil Liberties Union, spoke with the family and other activists yesterday demanding justice. Their speech noted that "the Rochester Police Department has shown time and again that they are not trained to deal with mental health crises. These officers are trained to kill and not to de-escalate” (Democrat and Chronicle). This story, unfortunately, isn’t distinct to just Rochester. Across the country, individuals with mental health conditions are disproportionately impacted by the police.
One in four people killed by police in 2015 had a severe mental health condition (Washington Post). And beyond this, 40% of people with serious mental health conditions will interact with the criminal justice system in their lifetimes. 2 million are booked in jails each year (Washington Post). Most of these individuals haven’t been convicted of a crime, but if they have, they’re more likely to have been charged with a minor offense than something series (NAMI).
What’s more? They:
Remain in jail 4x to 8x longer than people without mental health conditions charged with the same crime
Cost 7x more than other inmates in jail
Are less likely to make bail
Are more likely to gain new charges while incarcerated
In fact, there are more people with mental health conditions in prisons than hospitals (Washington Post).
And communities of color, particularly Black people, are especially at risk, as they’re already disproportionately impacted by police brutality (Time). As we discussed in an earlier newsletter, Black people are more likely to have mental health issues and other disabilities, and less likely to receive diagnosis and treatment (Time).
This is why the conversation surrounding “defund the police” is so critical. Our law enforcement often acts as first responders for mental health crises. John Snook, the executive director of the Treatment Advocacy Center, emphasizes that mental health crises is the only medical illness that we allow the police to respond to. “Someone has a heart attack, a stroke—we don't send the police to help them. Law enforcement aren't trained to be mental health professionals” (Vice).
Part of this is because of a historical shift to defund mental health, accelerated in the 1960s with the passage of Medicaid (Mother Jones). From there, a series of mental health funding cuts caused state mental health services to dwindle nationwide. The Sentencing Project found that 6 out of 10 states with the least access to care have the highest rates of incarceration. Learn more about the history of deinstitutionalization and defunding the police in-depth over at Vice.
But another part of this is a history of intentionally deeming Black people as mentally ill to justify enslavement and dehumanization, which Ebony explained in detail in an earlier newsletter on Black mental health. Not only has this bias become reinforced throughout history, it becomes cemented within our criminal justice system when a Black person experiencing a mental health crises become synonymous with danger and threat.
Mental health response organizations across the country are providing that alternative forms of support are possible, and effective in supporting citizens in need without violence. CAHOOTS, or Crisis Assistance Helping Out on the Streets, is a non-profit organization working alongside local police in Eugene, OR to support mental health 911 calls, meeting those in need wtih medical resources nad trained professionals (Vice). Austin has a Expanded Mobile Crisis Outreach Team which does the same, and is expanding into telehealth care (Gov 1). More initiatives like this are expanding across the country (Vice) and could effectively reallocate funding from law enforcement while keeping these vulnerable communities safe.
And all of the news about police brutality is creating more mental health strain, exacerbating the problem at hand. A study published in The Lancet in 2018 found that stories of police killings have adverse effects on mental health among Black American adults who were not directly affected by the incident (Penn Today). Another study published in 2019 found that viewing viral videos of police killings, beatings, and arrests — and seeing images of immigrants in cages — was associated with symptoms of depression and PTSD in adolescents (Journal of Adolescent Health). According to the lead researcher Brendesha Tynes, this is especially insidious, as it can “make these kids feel worse about their racial identity, and make them internalize some of that dehumanization” (The Verge). We frequently write about why we don’t share graphic videos of brutality, and this is part of the reason why.
The Lancet study recommends that communities should have, in part, adequate mental health resources to heal from the trauma of these incidents. As we collectively continue to watch the video footage and stories circulate in the media, we need to resource ourselves as best we can to make it through during this significant racial reckoning of our time.
key takeaways
Individuals with mental health conditions, particularly people of color, are more likely to be negatively impacted by the criminal justice system
There are more people with mental health conditions in prisons than hospitals
By investing in community-based mental health services crisis response services we can decrease police brutality
RELATED ISSUES
8/27/2020 | Help decriminalize drug possession.
8/26/2020 | Be an active bystander.
8/24/2020 | Demand justice for Jacob Blake.
8/23/2020 | Support those incarcerated and impacted by COVID-19.
8/12/2020 | Demand justice for Elijah McClain.
7/26/2020 | Pay attention to the Portland protests.
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
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Happy Thursday,
I started drafting today's email this weekend before I learned about Jacob Blake. I reflected on the attack against Eden Estrada, Jaslene Whiterose, and Joslyn Flawless, and the apathetic response from onlookers as they called for help. It made me consider how, as a society, we choose to witness the violence and suffering against communities of color, and how that's evolved with digital technology. I hope today's email encourages everyone – particularly those with white privilege – to do more to protect those that need it most.
If you follow us on Facebook or Instagram, you may have noticed the flurry of hateful rhetoric and harassment from new "fans." Their responses demonstrate why we need to stay committed to this work. Thank you to all those supporting in the comments.
You can always support our efforts by making a one-time contribution to our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly on Patreon.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Know your rights when taking videos and photographs.
Learn what to do after taking a video of police brutality.
Identify the right individual and protocol for escalating racism in your workplace
Reflect: How can I exercise my privilege to be more active during crisis?
GET EDUCATED
On Sunday, August 16th, three trans women of color, Eden Estrada, Jaslene Whiterose, and Joslyn Flawless, were robbed and physically and verbally assaulted while waiting for their ride in Los Angeles (CNN). As it occurred, onlookers gathered to watch, casually recording the event on their smartphones, some even yelling their own insults. Throughout a 26-minute video of the attack on YouTube, only one person is seen briefly stopping to help. This attack adds to a long list of violence against the transgender community – this year alone, at least 26 transgender or gender non-conforming people fatally shot or killed by other violent means, a number which is likely vastly under-reported (HRC). This wave of violence prompted the American Medical Association to declare it an “epidemic” (NYTimes). Read more on the importance of centering Black trans lives in a previous newsletter.
In a news conference regarding the incident, city officials were quick to admonish the bystanders. Deputy Chief Justin Eisenberg called the lack of intervention "callous” (People). And it is, especially after a nationwide reckoning for racial justice in the LGBTQ+ community. Amid protests and Pride month this past June, transgender women of color have mobilized to ensure their voices are heard. But when these women needed their community most, they simply watched on passively.
Our society has a deep history of watching injustice unfold from the sidelines. And this goes beyond acts of racial violence. The horrific murder of Kitty Genovese in 1964 is a well-known example, where early reports indicated that 38 witnesses heard and ignored her calls for help. This story was greatly exaggerated, but its impact sparked a flurry of studies on how so many people failed to act (read the full story and the publication’s detractions in the NYTimes). Referred to as the “bystander effect,” their research indicated that the more people who witness a catastrophic event, the less likely anyone will do anything. Each person thinks someone else will take responsibility (Harvard). Additional research indicates that “in-group favoritism” may prevent bystanders from intervening for someone they don’t identify with, which can bring in various implicit biases (NBC News). You can read more examples of how this has unfolded across other terrible acts of violence in NPR.
But our society also has a history of actively watching the suffering of communities of color. Over 4,000 African Americans were lynched between 1877 and 1950 (Equal Justice Initiative), and at least 137 Native Americans were lynched between 1835 and 1964 (VOA News). These murders were often not just public affairs but also popular events; communities would gather together to watch as if it were a fun occasion (Equal Justice Initiative). Oftentimes, organizers would pass out pieces of the victims’ clothing and body parts as souvenirs. Photographers would often be present to capture the event, and postcards with photos of the victims would be offered for sale as collectibles (Equal Justice Initiative). In these cases, too, innocent victims would be subject to torture and murder without community help.
Note how similar this is to the viral videos of recent violence shared effortlessly across social media. With the rise of technology, it’s even more straightforward for the pain and suffering of communities of color to become public spectacle for eager audiences. Although sharing them can raise awareness, they often do more harm. This is one of many reasons I don’t share these videos in this newsletter – and encourage you not to do the same. And remember that watching these videos without taking action is still a passive response.
The bystander goes beyond public acts of violence. It extends to when we watch our racist family member say something at the dinner table, or fail to intervene when we hear a microaggression at work. Whenever we choose not to engage, we make it seem that these actions are tolerable and reinforce white supremacy. It sets the precedent that we are willing to excuse this violence elsewhere, not just from our peers, but our police officers, schools, on social media, and in prisons, for starters.
This concept is why more police departments are hosting “duty to intervene” or “active bystander” training, as an effort to make police officers to respond in the moment if their peer is exercising excessive force. Read a general overview via Vice, and a recent example from the Wilmington Police Department. Similar efforts to prevent sexual assault have recently been implemented at Uber (Fortune) and universities (NIU, MSU). But these efforts need to be aligned with shifting toxic culture internally – and unwind each company or institution’s long history with oppression.
It’s important to note that being an active bystander often takes privilege. Sometimes, we may only be able to watch helplessly. But when you are in a situation where you can exercise that privilege, you must. Do not choose to enjoy the show. Put your body and reputation on the line to protect the victim, however you can. And if you can’t, take clear accounts of what happened. This could be by filming an interaction between a victim and the police, or making a note of a microaggression to alert HR. Researches note that even telling another bystander to do something can pull you and/or them out of apathy and into action (Harvard).
And we need action now more than ever. Remember that without the videos, we may not have known the truth behind the injustices that George Floyd, Keith Lamont Scott, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, Alton Sterling, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, or Jacob Blake, among others, suffered. How many stories have gone unreported? How much more suffering will be enjoyed as entertainment? And when will we fight for those further marginalized, like the LGBTQ+ community, with the same strength?
Key Takeaways
The "bystander effect" often decentivizes individuals in groups from taking action during crisis
Our society has a long history with making suffering a public spectacle
To center those most marginalized, we must become more active bystanders and exercise whatever privilege we have, when we can
RELATED ISSUES
8/12/2020 | Demand justice for Elijah McClain.
6/4/2020 | Don't tell Black people how to respond.
6/6/2020 | Give to bail funds – and abolish cash bail.
7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.
6/30/2020 | Boycott as a form of protest.
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
Demand justice for Jacob Blake.
Donate to the family’s GoFundMe and contact officials in Kenosha to ensure accountability.
Get daily actions in your inbox. Subscribe Now ›
Today marks one year since Elijah McClain was murdered by the Aurora Police Department. His death has not seen justice. It has been 164 days since Breonna Taylor was murdered by the Louisville Metro Police Department. Her death has not seen justice. My heart is broken as I write another email calling for justice for another person in my community. It will take all of our voices and efforts to make this one the last.
Please share this story widely and encourage your community to take action. This work takes all of us. And for Jacob Blake and all others who have lost their lives to police brutality, we were already too late. The next best time is now.
Links to support our newsletter: give one-time on our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or contribute monthly on our Patreon.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Call local officials to demand the police officers are held accountable:
Kenosha City Attorney 262-653-4170
Kenosha Mayor and City Administration 262-653-4000
Kenosha Police Non Emergency Line 262-656-1234
Wisconsin DOJ (608) 266-1221
Donate to the Milwaukee Freedom Fund, which is extending support to protestors in Kenosha: https://bit.ly/mkefreedomfund
Review the calls to action in our related newsletters below
GET EDUCATED
Yesterday evening, an unarmed Black man was tasered and shot in the back seven times by police officers in Kenosha, WI. Reports indicate that the police were on the scene to respond to a domestic dispute, and the victim was attempting to help settle it (Kenosha News). A video of the shooting was widely circulated on social media*. In the video, the victim can be seen walking to his car and opening the door before being restrained by a police officer and shot multiple times point-blank in the back. Another video released late Monday shows Blake wrestling with a couple police officers a few moments before walking to his car (Daily Mail). A reporter for WISN, a news channel in Wisconsin, later confirmed that the victim is 29-year-old Jacob Blake (Twitter). A large group of people was present to witness the shooting, in addition to his fiancée and children. As of the time of writing this, Blake remains alive and in serious condition. Protests have since erupted in the city demanding accountability.
Kenosha is less than an hour away from Milwaukee, where the Democratic National Convention was held last week. The police officers currently do not wear body cameras, but the Kenosha County Board voted 22-0 to include body cameras for the sheriff’s department in next year’s budget (Kenosha News).
This is an ongoing story and, because this was published in a daily newsletter, we’re unable to update or change the information published here. However, we will continue to update the web version of this newsletter on our website. In addition, please keep yourself educated on this topic from other news sources.
But to be clear: there is no additional information that can ever be provided to justify this shooting. There is no justification for an innocent citizen of this country to be restrained and shot several times in the back. There is no excuse or apology for millions of us to wake up to another video of senseless violence by those entrusted to our protection. We are not waiting for more facts to be outraged, overwhelmed with grief, or take action. This is not "just another" police shooting, because one shooting alone is more than enough to demand change. We wish Jacob Blake a full recovery and swift justice.
*We are intentionally not circulating the video in this newsletter, and urge you to do the same. Read this article for context (Recode).
RELATED ISSUES
8/12/2020 | Demand justice for Elijah McClain.
6/4/2020 | Don't tell Black people how to respond.
6/6/2020 | Give to bail funds – and abolish cash bail.
7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.
6/30/2020 | Boycott as a form of protest.
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
Demand justice for Elijah McClain.
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Today is my 31st birthday, and I don't take a day of this short and precious life for granted. I am celebrating another year around the sun in a time of so much sorrow, knowing how deeply my community is hurting in the midst of these unprecedented times.
Today's newsletter is a reminder that this work is, quite simply, a matter of life vs. death. I can celebrate another birthday, but Elijah cannot – as so many other people we've lost to police brutality this year. It's our responsibility to use every breath we have for all those who have had their breath stolen away from them. Please take action for Elijah today. And thank you Saraya @justiceforelijahmcclain for collaborating with us on this piece.
As always, consider making a donation to this project. You can give on our website, PayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or by subscribing for $5/mo on our Patreon. Thank you for everyone that makes this newsletter possible.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Send a postcard through this Black woman-owned card company to Colorado officials demanding justice. #lettersforelijah
Call Colorado officials to demand justice – link includes phone numbers and a sample script.
Sign the petition calling for the district attorney Dave Young to resign.
View more ways to support through the @justiceforelijahmcclain website.
GET EDUCATED
Written in collaboration with activist Saraya Hamidi at @justiceforelijahmcclain. Follow them on Instagram for more ways to take action.
Yesterday, the family of Elijah McClain filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Aurora and the police officers and paramedics responsible for his death (AP News).
Elijah McClain, a 23-year-old massage therapist, was stopped by three officers on Aug. 24, 2019, who responded to a call about a suspicious person “wearing a ski mask” and “waving his arms.” The caller noted that “he looks sketchy. He might be a good person or a bad person” (NPR). Police arrived and put Elijah in a chokehold. Paramedics gave him 500 milligrams of ketamine to calm him down – despite the fact that Elijah was already handcuffed and on the ground. McClain suffered cardiac arrest and was later declared brain dead and taken off life support several days later. Elijah McClain had not committed any crime.
The lawsuit outlines how one officer jammed his knee into McClain’s arm “with the sole purpose of inflicting pain by forcefully separating Elijah’s bicep and triceps muscles.” It also outlines how two officers reported that all three of them simultaneously placed their body weight, estimated to be over 700 pounds, on McClain, who was 5’6” and weighed 140 pounds, after putting him in a chokehold. In a statement released by their attorney, the family stated that “we have filed this civil rights lawsuit to demand justice for Elijah McClain, to hold accountable the Aurora officials, police officers, and paramedics responsible for his murder, and to force the City of Aurora to change its longstanding pattern of brutal and racist policing” (AP News).
Elijah was known as "nothing but positive" by his cousin, "sweet” by his sister, and "an introvert who sought peace in his life" by his mother (Elle). He played violin at a local shelter to soothe the animals. Elijah was also anemic, and often wore layers of clothing and masks to stay warm (The Cut). Body camera footage, which wasn’t released until November, captures the entire encounter, including Elijah’s last words, copied and pasted below.
I can’t breathe. I have my ID right here. My name is Elijah McClain. That’s my house. I was just going home. I’m an introvert. I’m just different. That’s all. I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me? I don’t even kill flies! I don’t eat meat! But I don’t judge people. I don’t judge people who do eat meat. Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity, I’ll do it. You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful and I love you. Try to forgive me. I’m a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ow, that really hurt. You are all very strong. Teamwork makes the dream work. Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to do that. I just can’t breathe correctly.
You can read a detailed overview of the case via The Cut and watch the body camera footage here.
With the swell of protests after the death of George Floyd, Elijah’s case captured national attention, and thousands of people have called for justice. The office of 17th Judicial District Attorney Dave Young, which cleared the officers involved in detaining McClain of any wrongdoing, received over 10,000 emails and 1,000 voicemails in the beginning of June alone (Colorado Sentinel). A Justice for Elijah McClain petition has received over 5 million signatures (Change.org). Violin vigils honoring his life and protests demanding justice have sprung up across the country and the world.
Even so, we’re a long way from justice. All officers were briefly placed on leave, but since reinstated. Two were fired after the fact because they posed for a selfie that reenacted the chokehold for “solidarity” (CBS News). An autopsy report by the Adams County coroner said that the cause of death was “undetermined,” and criminal charges would not be filed. At the end of June, Colorado state governor Jared Polis signed an executive order for state’s attorney general, Phil Weiser, to re-examine the case, but no charges have yet to be filed (NYTimes). And although the Aurora police department has issued new rules against excessive force, the city’s public safety policy committee demands more (Colorado Sentinel).
In his last words, Elijah said that he was “different,” and that point, paired with his chronic asthma, has caught particular attention in calls for accountability. A study from 2016 shows that nearly half the people killed by police had some sort of disability (NAMI). And Black people are more likely than white people to have chronic health conditions, more likely to struggle when accessing mental health care, and less likely to receive formal diagnoses for a range of disabilities (Time). Our law enforcement is often the first response for any issue, regardless of whether there’s violence or not. But they have minimal training on de-escalation tactics. A report from the Police Executive Research Forum found that police academies spend, on average, about 58 hours on firearm training and just 8 hours on de-escalation or crisis intervention (Police Forum). Proper de-escalation might have saved Elijah, but he isn’t alone; several police brutality victims, including Sandra Bland, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, and Tanisha Anderson, all had disabilities or underlying health conditions (Huffington Post). And as Adiba Nelson, mother and disability rights and inclusion advocate, wrote for Parents Magazine, “if Elijah McClain was not safe in the hands of the police, how can my child be?” (Parents).
“I worry that as a teenager or young black man, if my son wears a hoodie someone might call the police because he looks threatening. If police approach him and he doesn’t react in a typical way, would they wrestle him to the ground? […] Already, I’ve tried to instill how he should act around police. My son doesn’t understand why anyone would be afraid of him or assume that he is a bad person because of his skin color. When I tried gently to explain, he cried”.
Jackie Spinner, associate professor at Columbia College Chicago, for The Washington Post
This August marks one year since Elijah McClain’s wrongful death at the hands of Aurora, CO officers and medics, and activists are rallying communities to advocate for justice. With your help, and bolstered by the federal civil rights lawsuit filed yesterday, we can finally see justice for Elijah and the McClain family. Please share this story and today’s action with your community.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Elijah McClain was murdered by the police in August 2019 and none of the involved officials have been charged with a crime
On Tuesday, August 11 the family of Elijah McClain filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Aurora and the police officers and paramedics responsible for his death
Despite persistent action from the community, the family is still seeking justice
A coordinated campaign for the month of August hopes that justice will finally be found
RELATED ISSUES
7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.
7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.
6/23/2020 | Defund the police – beyond the slogan.
6/20/2020 | Support reparations.
6/17/2020 | Learn about the history of lynching in America.
6/13/2020 | Center Black trans lives.
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
Abolish qualified immunity.
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Happy Monday,
It's been 115 days since Breonna Taylor was killed and she still hasn't seen justice (Vox). I think about this often, especially as we watch conversations swirl around qualified immunity and how we hold police officers accountable when our systems fail to do it for us. Today's #antiracismdaily takes us through history to understand how qualified immunity prevents so many victims from finding even a semblance of justice in an unjust world.
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
TAKE ACTION
U.S. Readers:
Contact your local senator encouraging them to act on abolishing qualified immunity.
International Readers:
Consider how your country / region holds state and local officials accountable. How does this vary from the U.S.? How does it impact your local law enforcement?
GET EDUCATED
What is qualified immunity?
As communities work to reform and abolish law enforcement across the country, qualified immunity is under heavy scrutiny. Over the past few weeks, a bill to end qualified immunity has been passed by the House (as part of the Justice in Policing Act), but is currently stalled in the Senate (Vox). Last Wednesday, July 1, liberal senators introduced the Ending Qualified Immunity Act (CNN) to add as a companion piece to the initial legislation.
Some police act like the law doesn’t apply to them. And because of qualified immunity, they're kind of right. Qualified immunity means that government officials are shielded from charges that they violated constitutional and civil rights – unless the victims of those violations can show that the rights were “clearly established law". This means that in order to charge the perpetrator, the victim must first find an exact same example of the case at hand that's already been ruled illegal or unconstitutional to establish its legitimacy (USA Today).
Still confused? Here's a TikTok video that demonstrates it more simply. Bless (some) TikTok creators.
Here's a real-life example. In February, the 5th Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals held that a prison guard in Texas who pepper-sprayed an inmate in his locked cell “for no reason” did not violate clearly established law because similar cited cases involved guards who had hit and tased inmates "for no reason", rather than pepper-spraying them (USA Today). The full report notes that if the victim was punched or hit by a baton "for no reason" the assault would violate clearly established law (PDF).
Another example is the story of Malaika Brooks, a black woman who was seven months pregnant and pulled over for speeding while dropping her 11-year-old off at school. She refused to sign the speeding ticket (mistakenly thinking it was an acknowledgment of guilt). She was then tased three times, dragged into the street, pressed facedown into the ground, and cuffed (NYTimes). Although the judges saw that her constitutional rights were violated, they dismissed the case, arguing that "no precedent had 'clearly established' that tasing a woman in Ms. Brooks’s circumstances was unconstitutional at the time" (NYTimes).
This creates a paradoxical situation: how can you hold law enforcement accountable if their specific violations haven't been held accountable in the past? Justices are allowed to interpret "clearly established law" as specifically as they choose. And what's worse – the more egregious the violation, the more likely it doesn't fit neatly into a previous case. It's no surprise that, according to George F. Will, the Supreme Court, applying its “clearly established law” doctrine, has denied immunity only twice in its past 30 cases (Washington Post). There are dozens and dozens of examples just like the ones above, preventing citizens from holding police accountable for harm.
“Important constitutional questions go unanswered precisely because those questions are yet unanswered. Courts then rely on that judicial silence to conclude there’s no equivalent case on the books. No precedent = no clearly established law = no liability. An Escherian Stairwell. Heads defendants win, tails plaintiffs lose”.
Judge Don Willett, U.S. Circuit Judge of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit, in The New Republic
So, how did we get here? Qualified immunity is buried in Section 1983 (named for its number in U.S. code, not the year), a provision from the Civil Rights Act of 1871, also known as the Ku Klux Klan Act. After the Civil War, the federal government was focused on re-integrating the South but faced violent resistance from white supremacists, most notably the Klan, who was waging a war of domestic terrorism by "killing black Americans and white Republicans, burning down their homes and churches, and intimidating local communities into accepting white-supremacist rule" (The New Republic). Sound familiar?
The government had to act, so it passed the Ku Klux Klan Act, granting it more power to intervene against violations of the 14th Amendment (house.gov). Within it, Section 1983 gave private citizens the power to sue state and local officials who were violating federal constitutional rights – building more personal accountability into the work (The New Republic). Although power granted by the Ku Klux Klan Act was removed by the Supreme Court after the Reconstruction Act, Section 1983 remained, dormant until 1961.
This is when James Monroe, a Black man, and his family were pulled from their beds late one night and assaulted by thirteen police officers with no warrant (sound familiar)? Monroe was then held for interrogation for 10 hours without access to a lawyer or being charged with a crime. In the case Monroe v Pape, the Supreme Court ruled that they had the right to hold the police officers accountable, using the terms of Section 1983 as reference. This grounded the provision as a part of holding law enforcement accountable in today's rhetoric (The New Republic).
But a shift in terminology has made this more difficult to execute. Initially, the rule was written so that citizens could hold officials liable if their actions were "under color of state law," meaning they were executed by state or local officials. But the Supreme Court changed this in 1982, revising to ensure that government officials were entitled to “qualified immunity” from such lawsuits unless their actions violated a “clearly established law” (The New Republic), the terminology that still stands today. Despite the flood of renewed interest this past June, the Supreme Court declined to revisit this topic, leaving it up to the legislative branch to figure it out (CNN).
It's important to note that abolishing qualified immunity won't solve all problems in law enforcement – but if you've been reading this newsletter long enough, you might have already realized that! These issues never exist in isolation, and one change can't dismantle an entirely inequitable system. But abolishing qualified immunity sends a message that many more police officers that violate the Constitution will be held accountable. It also holds anyone with government power to the same standards as normal human beings. And shouldn’t we all be held to the same levels of accountability?
“Qualified immunity shields police from accountability, impedes true justice, and undermines the constitutional rights of every person in this country. There can be no justice without healing and accountability, and there can be no true accountability with qualified immunity. It’s past time to end qualified immunity, and that’s exactly what this bill does”.
Ayanna Pressley, U.S. Representative for Massachusetts's 7th Congressional District, on her website.
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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Remove police from our public schools.
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Hi!
I've been itching to write something about racism in education. My full-time job works to bring yoga and mindfulness to schools, so I've seen how education upholds racism first-hand, and feel passionate about dismantling it – for this generation and those to come.
The recent conversations on removing police from schools skims the surface of a much broader conversation on the school-to-prison pipeline, which I'm committed to covering in a future issue. I could've kept writing this for another week – so know there's more information to come. And I highly encourage you to use the references to get more context than this email contains.
As always, you can invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep these conversations growing. I'm so grateful to be learning and unlearning with each of you.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
1. Efforts to remove police officers from schools are happening in cities across the country. Search to see whether those conversations are happening in your community, and how you can support (whether signing a petition, making calls, etc).
2. Reflect: How would your life be different if you were arrested at 12 years old?
GET EDUCATED
Our reckoning with law enforcement is happening in schools
As conversations on defunding the police turn into political action, many major school districts across the country are pledging to remove police officers from schools (Minneapolis, Seattle, Portland, Denver, Milwaukee). Most prominently, the Oakland school district will "eliminate its police department by the end of the year and hire more social workers, psychologists, or ‘restorative justice practitioners’ as part of their George Floyd Resolution" (Time). And on June 18, the American Federation of Teachers – one of the country's largest teacher unions – officially called for the separation of school safety and policing as part of their commitments to combat racism against Black students (AFT website).
“Our schools do not need police. We need mentors to help guide us through school and to dismantle the school-to-prison pipeline.”
Denilson Garibo, student representative on the school board, recent graduate of Oakland High School (Time)
Brief history of SROs
School resource officers, or SROs, law enforcement personnel that are responsible for safety and crime prevention in schools (Brookings) have been in schools since the 1950s, initially created to build rapport between local law enforcement and youth. These officers have the same training, the same capabilities and the same resources as other members of the police or sheriff's department -- but their roles are more multifaceted, ranging from security to settling disputes, monitoring bus traffic, and even standing in for teacher and administrators (CNN). I couldn’t find hard data on this, but the National Association of School Resource Officers’ website says that most SROs are armed (website).
The Columbine High School massacre in 1999, and then the series of school shootings of this past decade justifiably prompted schools across the U.S. to increase their SRO staffing. These initiatives were accelerated with support from the Trump administration after the Parkland shooting (Daily Signal). You can also read about how the Trump administration also rescinded previous policies designed to protect minorities from excessive disciplinary actions (NYTimes). According to the National Center for Education Statistics, 42% of public schools reported employing at least one school resource officer during the 2015-16 school year.
Racial disparities in discipline
But studies have proved that police officers in schools are disproportionately disciplining students of color. During the 2015 – 2016 school year 290,600 students were referred to law enforcement agencies or arrested, according to the US Department of Education Office for Civil Rights. Of them, 31% of them were Black (although only representing 15% of the student body). 65% percent of the arrests were students of color or mixed races. (Full report on their website). Black students are also more likely to attend schools with SROs, more than students in any other racial or ethnic group.
These insights align with how disproportionate arrest rates are outside of the classroom (ABC News), and how SROs contribute to the school-to-prison pipeline, a concept coined by Paul Butler, a former federal prosecutor, that looks at the many ways school climate contributes to youth to transition from the classroom to incarceration (Justice Policy Institute). We’ll be discussing school-to-prison pipeline in a future newsletter.
Note: these studies also show disproportionate disciplining of students with disabilities – so consider how intersectionality comes into play, and how necessary the proposed alternatives can be for students with different identities.
And interactions between SROs and students are becoming increasingly violent, another trend reflected in broader culture. Last winter, an SRO in Florida was fired after grabbing a middle school student’s hair and yanking her head back (Orlando Sentinel). Another SRO officer in North Carolina lost his job after he repeatedly slammed an 11-year-old boy to the ground (Buzzfeed). Note that both of these officers were reprimanded, likely because both incidences were caught on camera.
Take the story of Kaia Rolle, a 6-year-old first-grader in Orlando who was charged with misdemeanor battery, cuffed and put in the back of a police car after having a temper tantrum in her classroom (Orlando Sentinel). Florida has no laws around the minimum age of arrests, along with twenty-seven other states (see the minimum age for arrests for each state at the National Juvenile Defender Center).
So, where do we go from here?
Is there a way to reform police in schools? Perhaps. After the 2014 killing of Michael Brown, the Jennings School District in St. Louis County, Missouri worked with the local police force to ensure that the SROs represent at least 75% of the student demographic, which is predominantly Black or at least come from the neighborhoods in the district (CNN).
And supporters of SROs in schools are advocating for this. A father who lost his daughter in the Marjory Stoneman Douglas school shooting is encouraging districts to reconsider, citing that SROs have helped juvenile arrests decline over the past 12 years (CNN). Police officers emphasize that officers in school can help build positive relationships between students and law enforcement, and change the stereotypes against officers (Pittsburgh Post-Gazette). An article from the Wisconsin State Journal also identifies that removing police officers from the local high schools reduces the limited number of Black men as role models in the classroom – although this brings up a whole other issue of the lack of diversity in teachers and administrators in schools across America (Wisconsin State Journal).
But the rationale behind the defund the police movement applies here: what if we’re past the point of reform? And how could we invest in missing infrastructure to create other resources that students need? Consider that there are 1.7 million students that attend schools with police, but no counselors (ACLU). Schools with such services “see improved attendance rates, better academic achievement, and higher graduation rates as well as lower rates of suspension, expulsion, and other disciplinary incidents. Data shows that the presence of school-based mental health providers not only improves outcomes for students but can also improve overall school safety” (ACLU).
And this Brookings study notes that since so many SRO policies were designed reactively to violence (and justifiably so), they need much more careful consideration to create equitable, long-term solutions that support all students (Brookings). In addition, studies indicate that, considering school shootings are horrifying but rare, building this reactionary infrastructure might do more harm than good for the health and wellbeing of students, calling more action around gun control instead (Washington Post).
Investing funds from police into counselors – along with other mental health support and nurses, or after-school programming, arts and music, mindfulness programming, and much more – is all the more urgent as the impact of coronavirus ravages school budgets (NYTimes). And as we watch the stress and anxiety of both this global pandemic and the protests impact the Black and brown youth of our country (NYTimes), it’s due time to consider taking direct action, and defunding police in schools create safe spaces for kids to learn and grow – and disrupt a larger narrative of policing Black people and other communities of color.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Disproportionate policing against communities of color is happening both generally and in classrooms
School districts in major cities are moving to remove officers in schools
Funds from SROs can be re-allocated to counselors and other support services for students
Removing police officers in schools can help to disrupt the school-to-prison pipeline
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
Center Black trans lives.
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Happy weekend, and Day 10 of the Anti-Racism Daily 🎉
You may notice your feeds and conversations with friends start to move "back to normal". But remember that there is no such thing as normal anymore. The work of dismantling and reimagining doesn't fade with the protests. In fact, now is the most urgent time to dive deeper. So stay here, with all of us, doing the work each day.
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As always, you can give via PayPal, Patreon or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) to keep this work growing.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
1. Raise awareness about today's subject using the hashtag #BlackTransLivesMatter
2. Donate to the COVID-19 Relief Fund for Black trans people, hosted by the Marsha P. Johnson Institute.
This cover is the forthcoming issue of Time magazine. Photo taken by photographer Devin Allen showing people lying on the street during a Black Trans Lives Matter protest in Baltimore.
Via Axios.
GET EDUCATED
Since the protests began there's been significant shifts in protecting Black lives. But as the Black Lives Matter movement takes hold across the country (and around the world) the narrative about the violence against Black trans people often gets left behind. We touched on this briefly when we discussed Breonna Taylor in an email from last week.
In just this past week alone, two Black transgender women were reported dead: 25-year-old Riah Milton was murdered in an attempted robbery in Ohio, and Dominique “Rem'mie” Fells was killed in Philadelphia. According to the HRC, this marks at least the 13th violent death of a transgender or gender non-conforming person this year in the U.S., but because violence against this community is systemically underreported, that number is believed to be much larger.
And throughout the protests the stories Black trans people who were victims of police violence, like Tony McDade, got lost in the larger conversation around Black Lives Matter. Remember that centering those that are most vulnerable is critically important in movement work, because a specific community's distinct pain can be minimized when lumped in with others.
And that's clear when we look at our political system as a whole. Although there's been significant political progress to protect Black lives over the past few weeks, there's still very few legal protections for the transgender community. The HRC, reflecting on the death of Dominique “Rem'mie” Fells, note that "at the state level, transgender and gender non-conforming people in Pennsylvania are not explicitly protected in employment, housing or in public spaces. They are also not covered under the state’s hate crimes legislation". Read more in their 2019 report >
And as all of this unfolds, Trump chose yesterday to erase transgender civil rights protections in health care. By narrowing the legal definition of sex discrimination so that it does not include protections for transgender people, Trump has reversed part of the Affordable Care Act from 2010, which bans discrimination based on race, color, national origin, sex, age or disability in “any health program or activity".
June is Pride Month in the U.S. so it's all the more critical to center the needs for our LGBTQ+ community during the movement for Black lives – especially because their liberation are so closely intertwined. No one defines that more distinctly than Marsha P. Johnson, a black, transgender leader that paved the way for both Black and LGBTQ+ rights in America. Known as a self-identified drag queen, performer, and survivor, she was a prominent figure in the Stonewall Uprising of June 1969, one of the most important events leading to the gay liberation movement. She, alongside her friend Sylvia Rivera, a legendary transgender activist of Venezuelan and Puerto Rican descent, centered the lives of Black and brown transgender lives throughout their work for decades. Now, as the Black Lives Matter movement forges on, we must too.
“What happens is that black trans people are erased and made invisible in society, but then we actually disappear in our deaths.”
Kei Williams, a founding member of the Black Lives Matter global network and a national organizer at the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, in an interview with The Lily
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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Defund the police.
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Hi,
The protests over the past couple weeks have made some of the most significant progress in the civil rights movement in decades. Now it's time for sweeping policy reform – and today, we'll review why it's so important to support defunding the police.
Next week I will also be sending these daily actions via text! Text ARD to 718-715-4359 to sign up.
If you can give one-time or monthly for this community to grow, I'd really appreciate it. I already have two companies, and a team behind this work will be incredibly helpful. Thank you for everyone that's supported so far!
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
1. Sign the ACLU petition to drastically reduce funding to law enforcement and to reinvest in the communities they harm. Sign the petition >
2. Learn about conversations that may be happening around defunding the police in your local community.
GET EDUCATED
A FAQ on defunding the police
What does defund the police even mean?
The rally to defund the police is a call to action for communities to change the law enforcement system from the ground up. Some common desires include abolishing no-knock search warrants (which is how Brionna Taylor was murdered), military-style raids on the homes of suspects, restricting the flow of military gear to police departments and banning the use of military equipment on protesters. (NYTimes)
Is that the same as divesting?
Overall, yes. Most people are calling for defunding the police by divesting money away from law enforcement, and invest that money back into other necessary infrastructure, including violence prevention programs, public housing, health care and mental health care, and education. Learn more >
"It’s not just about taking away money from the police, it’s about reinvesting those dollars into black communities. Communities that have been deeply divested from, communities that, some have never felt the impact of having true resources. And so we have to reconsider what we’re resourcing. I've been saying we have an economy of punishment over an economy of care."
― Patrisse Cullors in a conversation on WBUR Here & Now
What does abolishing the police mean?
This is a more long-term and radical call for not just shifting our investment in law enforcement, but completing re-imagining the entire criminal justice system. Abolitionists are calling for more than just cutting budgets in the short-term. This article from The Nation from 2015 is a good overview.
Does defunding the police mean getting rid of police officers entirely?
No. Defunding the police means "shrinking the scope of police responsibilities and shifting most of what government does to keep us safe to entities that are better equipped to meet that need", says Christy E. Lopez, a Georgetown Law professor and co-director of the school’s Innovative Policing Program.
MPD150, a Minneapolis-based initiative by organizers aiming to bring "meaningful structural change" to police in the city, are focusing on who responds when someone calls 911. Instead of sending a police officer, they're advocating that instead we could send social workers, mental health care providers and victim or survivor advocates, among others.
This decreases the burden placed on police officers, who are currently tasked to respond to a wide range of requests from their community. Learn more on this in this USA Today article.
But not all police are bad! Why change everything over bad apples?
Yes, not every police officer is racist. Not all police officers kill black people. But this is not the argument. This isn't a conversation about bad apples, but a poisoned orchard. Remember that the police system has systemically hurt black communities throughout time because it's built on a system of racism and white supremacy. Consider:
1 in every 1,000 black men can expect to be killed by police (PNAS)
Minneapolis Police Use Force Against Black People at 7 Times the Rate of Whites (NYTimes)
Policing in southern slave-holding states had roots in slave patrols – groups of white volunteers empowered to use vigilante tactics to enforce laws related to slavery (The Conversation)
The "bad apples" argument is an incredibly harmful refrain. Not only does it prevent conversations from moving forward, it protects white supremacy and systemic oppression and completely discredits the pain, suffering and grief these "bad apples" have caused to individual families and entire communities impacted by their actions.
But won't there be more crime if there's less law enforcement?
Unlikely. Many citizens are concerned that a decrease in law enforcement will increase crime. But by investing in other systems of support, advocates of defunding the police find this unlikely. In addition, studies have shown that more police doesn't equal less crime, either. Some police chiefs, including Metropolitan Police Chief Peter Newsham in DC have warned that decreasing police budgets can create inadequate resources for training, which can increase bad policing (read more at DCist), which is a key consideration in how communities should move forward with defunding – ensuring it doesn't impact effectiveness.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Defunding the police allows communities to re-invest in other forms of community support
The police system is inherently inequitable, and deeply rooted in racism and white supremacy
These initiatives unburden police officers from responding to a wide range of community calls
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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Give to bail funds – and abolish cash bail.
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Today's practice looks at one of the many systems in our society that protect and perpetuate racism. With increased attention on bail funds in the wake of this week's protests, there's a powerful opportunity to rally around criminal justice reform. Here's a brief overview on the importance of bail funds and how cash bail influences mass incarceration.
As always, your one-time or monthly contributions make this grow. I'm hiring a dedicated staff member and introducing a text option next week!
- Nicole
TAKE ACTION
1. Sign the petition to #EndMoneyBail.
2. Use the National Bail Fund Network's list of List of Protest Bail Funds to support protestors in your state. Some may have raised enough funds, but subscribe to their work regardless so you can support when they need help again.
REFLECT
How much did I know about cash bail before reading this?
What privileges do I have that prevent me from understanding how incarceration works?
GET EDUCATED
"Why is everyone giving to bail funds?"
Charitable bail funds are community-based organizations that raise money to post bail for others. They've raised a ton of money over the past couple weeks from supporters of the national unrest after the death of George Floyd, which shows that we are committed to protecting protestors from the dangers of our criminal justice system.
But bail funds weren't created for this protest. They've been around for a very long time. And they're necessary because cash bail is a major reason why people – particularly Black people, are incarcerated. Cash bail fund donations are important today, but cash bail reform is important for tomorrow.
"Affirming that black lives matter on Instagram is one thing, but challenging millions of your followers to support Black people engaging in civil disobedience is a far bolder stance."
Hannah Giorgis in Why It Matters That So Many People Are Donating to Bail Funds in The Atlantic
Here's how bail works.
When someone is arrested, they are taken into police custody. They have to wait until they are charged, which, in this climate, can take days. Then, depending on the severity of the crime, they are required to pail bay to be released until their trial. Otherwise, they remain in jail. Usually, the bail funds aren’t returned until the court case is completed, which can take forever – or not happen at all. Read more here.
It goes without saying that this process is disproportionately impacting people of color generally – and Black people during these protests. Not only are Black people and other people of color targeted for arrests, many do not have the financial capacity to offer cash bail immediately (remember that most Americans in the U.S. don’t have $1,000 for an emergency). So this process can cause significant financial constraint. There are, of course, bondsmen that can loan the money with interest, which only exacerbates the strain.
This is a very simplistic overview. Cash bail laws differ greatly by state and region, and some have already abolished cash bail. Google “bail laws in [insert your state]” to start learning more.
Via @financesnacks on Instagram
Also remember that we’re protesting in the midst of a global pandemic. Extended time in jail increases the likelihood of contracting COVID-19, exacerbating the financial and health strains of being detained.
Lastly, and most significantly, people experience incredible stress and trauma when they are arrested and detained, especially if unlawfully. This conversation is always a conversation about public health, regardless of the pandemic.
"There are typically more than 700,000 people in U.S. jails, and about two-thirds of them have not yet been convicted of a crime and are there mostly because they couldn’t make bail."
The Marshall Project
"But cities with bail reform and all these bail funds are letting looters back on the streets! They’re keeping us unsafe!"
There’s a slight chance that making bail more attainable (or eliminating it) can send harmful offenders back on the street. But considering our history, it’s otherwise GUARANTEED we will unfairly detain someone and cause them significant trauma and financial burden.
Remember the story of Kalief Browder, who was held at Rikers Island in New York City without trial for three years for allegedly stealing a backpack after his family was unable to make bail. He was in solitary confinement for two of those three years. The trial was eventually dismissed based on lack of evidence. He died by suicide two years after being released. His bail was set at $3,000.
Remember the story of Sandra Bland, who was detained after being pulled over by a state trooper for "failing to signal a lane change". She was found dead in her cell three days later as her family tried to post her $5,000 bail.
We can’t ignore that race is usually at the center of this narrative. Proponents against cash bail reform and bail funds are centering the protection of white people over the consistent harm against Black people and other people of color.
In this conversation and ALL conversations we need to center the people most vulnerable to harm. And in America, that's protecting people from the worst of our systems. We will talk more about what centering means in an upcoming issue.
"But alternatives to cash bail aren't perfect, either!"
There's been lots of conversations on how algorithmic assessments of risk are also racially-biased, and I think we need to do a lot of work to find a more just alternative. But I don't think the answer to "there's not other perfect solution" is to stop trying. We see this a lot in anti-racism conversations, and it often doesn't actively contribute to the work moving forward.
Learn more about cash bail and the racial lines of mass incarceration.
Time: The Kalief Browder Story on Netflix
Say Her Name: The Life and Death of Sandra Bland on Netflix
13th available for free on YouTube
How Does Bail Work, and Why Do People Want to Get Rid of It? NYTimes
The Fight to End Cash Bail in the Standard Social Innovation Review
KEY TAKEAWAYS
The outpouring of bail funds during these protests show that our community is committed to systemic change
Cash bail is a main contributor to the mass incarceration we see in America
We need to donate to bail funds but also advocate for cash bail reform in our communities
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
Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.
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Today another black woman should be celebrating her 27th birthday. But three months ago, she was murdered by the cops. Her killers are still free. The story of Breonna Taylor demonstrates how anti-racism needs to be intersectional to provide an equitable future for all of us.
Speaking of all of us, this is only possible because of each and every donation from the community. You can invest one-time or monthly so I can pay staff and capacity for this work. Companies can also make a contribution if they're using this as a group.
- Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Honor Breonna Taylor today by completing the action steps on the #BirthdayforBreonna campaign, created by Cate Young. Please do as many as possible.
REFLECT
Using the examples of intersectionality below, ask yourself:
Who in my life is more marginalized than me based on their identity?
How can I use my privilege to advocate for their rights?
GET EDUCATED
Breonna Taylor deserves justice.
"Breonna Taylor, a 26-year-old Black woman, was in her home in Louisville, KY on March 13th when officers from the Louisville Metro Police Department barged in without a warning nor announcement and broke through her door, fired off more than 20 bullets, and ultimately took Breonna’s life.
Her boyfriend, Kenneth Walker, thought someone was burglarizing their home and fired his gun to defend himself. But in turn, the officers responded with a hail of bullets and turned an average morning into a tragedy. The police were at the wrong house. There was no search warrant that gave them the right to be there in the first place.
Despite the clear and egregious misconduct of the police officers, Kenneth Walker is being charged with attempted murder and the murderers who killed Breonna Taylor are walking free without any consequences."
This is quoted directly from the Color of Change petition I'm asking you to sign in the daily action.
"How did I not hear about this?!"
This was an egregious misuse of power. And, although Breonna Taylor needs no accolades or professional career to be celebrated, she was also an award-winning EMT worker on the frontlines as COVID-19 unfolded across the globe. Why wasn't her story heard?
This is because our understanding of police brutality against black people is centered on black male victims. And understandably so – the murders of Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, George Floyd and many other men garnered national attention and outrage. In fact, black men have been centered as the symbol of Black liberation since the anti-slavery movement. But this leaves injustice and outrage reserved for men, and minimizes the response to the same violence against black women. Brittany Cooper, author, teacher, activist, and cultural critic, explains this thoroughly in her recent Time magazine article and in this analysis on Twitter.
We have even further minimized the voices of Black transgender women in this conversation, who are disproportionately targeted and victimized by the police.
To understand why elevating black women in this social justice narrative is important, you must understand intersectionality. Keep reading to learn more.
"How does gender, sexual orientation, etc. play into racial discrimination?"
Intersectionality is defined as the "complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism, and classism) combine, overlap, or intersect, especially in the experiences of marginalized individuals or groups". We touched on this briefly when discussing white privilege.
This term was created by lawyer, civil rights advocate, philosopher, and scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw* to describe how gender, race, class, and other aspects of our identity come together to inform how we walk through life.
Intersectionality helps us acknowledge that identifying as a "white woman," for example, comes with race privilege and also with gender inequality. Someone that identifies as a "gay man" means, based on the term, that they are likely to be oppressed by their sexual orientation and receive privilege based on their gender.
There are many white women that will try to equate or minimize race discrimination with their own gender discrimination. Don't do this. There is no such thing as an adequate comparison between racial discrimination and gender discrimination. Besides, remember that there is space for all of us. Race equity does not take away from your gender equity. In fact, centering those most marginalized within the feminist movement is critical for it to move forward.
*Follow Kimberlé Crenshaw on Twitter and support her organization The African American Policy Forum (AAPF), which "acts as an innovative think tank that connects academics, activists and policy-makers to promote efforts to dismantle structural inequality".
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Intersectionality looks at how multiple factors of one person's identity can further marginalize them from access, opportunity and equity
We must center those most marginalized in all movements. We do that today by honoring Breonna Taylor's 27th birthday
White women, should not try to equate or minimize another person's racial discrimination through their own gender identity
"Intersectionality operates as both the observance and analysis of power imbalances, and the tool by which those power imbalances could be eliminated altogether."
Jane Coaston, in The Intersectionality Wars on Vox
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
Don't tell Black people how to respond.
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As mentioned in yesterday's email, the next few days of action will center the black experience as we protest for our freedom. Today's prompt is urgent – AND is a practice to remember when acknowledge the pain and wounding of any person of color (or any person, quite frankly).
If you haven't already, consider investing one-time or monthly so I can pay staff and capacity for this work. Companies can also make a contribution if they're using this as a group.
- Nicole
TAKE ACTION
If you identify as non-black:
Find someone that's actively policing a Black person on social media and tell them why it's harmful. Feel free to copy and paste the web version of this email. And, obviously, don't tell black people how to respond.
If you identify as Black:
Take care of yourself today. Do what you need.
GET EDUCATED
What is policing black behavior?
Policing black behavior is when black people are unjustifiably judged, shamed, questioned, detained, physically harmed, murdered, etc. because their actions were deemed suspicious or threatening by whiteness. Usually policing black behavior follows racial profiling, or, using a person’s race or ethnicity to create suspicion or wariness of how they take up space.
Policing doesn't have to involve law enforcement. Obviously, policing by law enforcement is at the center of our nation's conversation right now. But it happens in micro-ways too, like admonishing Black people for not speaking up OR speaking up too much, or questioning why people in protests have to "yell so loud" (these are real examples, ya'll. I'm tired).
Policing black behavior has been normalized since Black people were in slavery. Some of the earliest colonial laws about slavery allowed white people to stop, question, capture and kill Black people. In fact, many white people worked alongside law enforcement as free agents to gain social power, or called in law enforcement to do their work for them. Read about this history in this powerful Washington Post article.
This is all about power. Remember our conversation about white privilege and the power of normal? When Black people start practicing normalized activities alongside white people, it feels like a threat to their power.
So we see countless examples of Black people objectively being policed for doing normal things. Read this Vox article for an analysis of Living While Black.
Case Study: Amy Cooper
And let's not forget one of the most recent and public examples: Amy Cooper, a white woman, called the cops on Christian Cooper while he was birdwatching. She was the one breaking the rules – walking her dog without a leash, which is prohibited in the Ramble – and yet she called the cops on him.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she called them, using the term African-American. It was a threat. She knew he could be harmed. And she knew, as a white woman, what has been normalized in this society and what her white privilege would grant her. She knew exactly how police have been treating Black people.
She tapped into centuries of policing Black behavior to invoke harm instead of putting her dog on a leash.
Remember, all that happened was that a man asked her to put her dog on a leash. If he was a white man...
Would she have responded to him in the same way?
Could she have used law enforcement to bolster her policing?
Would she have been as "worried about her safety" (which is NOT an excuse)?
What would an anti-racist response have looked like?
Why is this important?
Because first and foremost it's RACIST. It causes harm. It's no one's business how black people – or anyone – want to respond right now. Period.
AND we have to remember that individual racist actions allow for the same injustices to play out on a societal level. Remember that, as Sonya Renee Taylor spoke to eloquently in an interview for The Wellness of We conference, the system isn't some foreign man lurking in the shadows. It's a culmination of individual choices and decisions that have become normalized over time. When we unravel our individual actions, we shift the collective (although there is, in addition, some deep dismantling we need to do too).
Let's unpack some basic responses you may hear when you do today's action:
"But I'm not calling the cops! I just posted on Facebook that I don't like the protests happening on my street".
Even if you yourself don't bring in police you are still policing through statements like this, and you're also encouraging others to do so. Besides, the right to protest is protected by both the U.S. Constitution, so people with this response are usually asking to revoke free speech from Black people.
"I just wish Black people would watch their language when sharing about this!"
This is also policing. I can assure you that society is not policing the anger or frustration of non-Black people during times of crises. Also you are incredibly privileged if you watch the consistent murder and injustice against black people and always have a "composed" response.
But why are Black people so mad at me?! I didn't do anything!
There's a very specific and insidious policing of black behavior about anger. You can read about it in this article by The Lily on how people have policed Serena Williams through her entire career. Black people are mad at the system and the people that protect it. And if you are sharing / posting content that upholds the system you are complicit even if you are not, for example, the police officer who had his knee in George Floyd's neck.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Policing black behavior is judging and punishing black people for behavior protected by white privilege
When we normalize micro-actions of policing, we normalize and uphold systems that do the same
Our society has normalized this since slavery and there's millions of examples at all levels of injustice
We see this happen on a major stage quite often, but need to recognize how we practice this on a micro level
“These conversations are always so tense, so painful. People are defensive. We want to believe we are good. To face the racisms and prejudices we carry forces us to recognize the ways in which we are imperfect. We have to be willing to accept our imperfections and we have to be willing to accept the imperfections of others. Is that possible on the scale required for change?”
Roxane Gay, in an article for The Toast
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