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Shut 'em down.

These past few weeks mark fifty years since two historical moments in prison abolition occurred. To honor them, dozens of organizers have banded together under Jailhouse Lawyers Speak (JLS) to rally “National Shut ‘em Down Demonstrations” on August 21 and September 9 to fight for the end of the prison-industrial complex (JLS).


TAKE ACTION


  • Donate to Jailhouse Lawyers Speak (JLS), a national Black-led collective of imprisoned people fighting for prisoners' human rights by providing legal education, resources, and assistance to other prisoners.

  • Watch a video on what really happened during the Attica Prison Rebellion.


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

These past few weeks mark fifty years since two historical moments in prison abolition occurred. To honor them, dozens of organizers have banded together under Jailhouse Lawyers Speak (JLS) to rally “National Shut ‘em Down Demonstrations” on August 21 and September 9 to fight for the end of the prison-industrial complex (JLS).

The first date, August 21, represents the date that radical theorist and organizer George Jackson was assassinated by prison guards at San Quentin State Prison in California while attempting to lead a prison uprising. News of his death rallied organizers in prisons across the country, including those in Attica Correctional Facility in New York.

Although the Attica Prison rebellion itself was unplanned, prisoners had already been fighting to change the horrific conditions of the facilities. Prisoners were granted only one shower a week and one roll of toilet paper a month. They were also paid “slave wages,” with one prisoner noting that he made thirty cents a day doing laundry (Project NIA). A group of prisoners had banded together and wrote a list of demands — demands that weren’t ever met.

But things escalated after an altercation occurred in the yards on September 8, 1971. Because of it, two prisoners were escorted by guards to the “box,” a segregated part of Housing Block Z, where officers were known to inflict torture and brutality. Prisoners were outraged, especially because one of the prisoners wasn’t involved in the altercation. The next day, the 1,300 prisoners joined together and took control of the facilities (Project NIA). They took 39 people hostage and made demands for their release, including better living conditions, better food, religious freedom, more frequent showers, and ending mail censorship. State officials refused to comply (NV Database).

After four days, the New York state governor approved a raid to retake the facilities by force. Hundreds of state troopers, aided by the National Guard, stormed the facilities. They dropped tear gas and fired indiscriminately. In the end, 29 prisoners and ten hostages were killed. The state and federal governments worked quickly to cover their tracks, blaming and persecuting prisoners for the deaths of the hostages that they didn’t commit. A commission dedicated to investigating the truth behind the uprising stated that “with the exception of Indian massacres in the late 19th century, the State Police assault which ended the four-day prison uprising was the bloodiest one-day encounter between Americans since the Civil War” (Project NIA).

Despite these protests and the public outrage that followed, conditions in state and federal prisons are far from tolerable. And since then, incarceration rates have skyrocketed. In 1970, there were 48,498 people in federal and state prisons in the U.S (Project NIA). Today, fifty years later, there are about 1.8 million people (Vera). Because of overcrowding, poor healthcare and lack of access to hygienic materials, more than 661,000 incarcerated people and staff have been infected with coronavirus as of April 2021. At least 2,990 have died (EJI). As a result, there have been at least 106 rebellions held in prisons across the country regarding these inhumane conditions, many of which have largely gone unnoticed. In order for us to change these conditions, we must dismantle our nation’s false sense of comfort with the horrors of our criminal justice system. And that takes us listening – and supporting – the voices of those most impacted.


Key Takeaways


  • Today marks 50 years since the Attica Prison Rebellion, one of the bloodiest prison rebellions in our nation’s history.

  • Organizers across the country have planned demonstrations to rally against the brutalities of the prison-industrial complex.

  • Despite historical attempts to create change, state and federal prisons still place millions of people in horrific conditions.


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Buy ethical jewelry.

Last week global jeweler Tiffany & Co. released their latest campaign featuring Jay-Z and Beyoncé. Entitled “About Love,” the campaign is the first that the famous couple has participated in together and will include original music and video documenting their relationships (NPR). Although many are excited to see Black love between two powerhouses celebrated by a major brand, others are noting the campaign’s insensitivities to the history of the diamond industry and the harm it has inflicted on African communities.


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Last week global jeweler Tiffany & Co. released their latest campaign featuring Jay-Z and Beyoncé. Entitled “About Love,” the campaign is the first that the famous couple has participated in together and will include original music and video documenting their relationships (NPR). Although many are excited to see Black love between two powerhouses celebrated by a major brand, others are noting the campaign’s insensitivities to the history of the diamond industry and the harm it has inflicted on African communities.

Promotional photos for the campaign have Beyoncé wearing the famous 128.54-carat yellow Tiffany diamond, which has only been worn by four women throughout time. Beyoncé is the first Black woman to wear it, which some are noting as “iconic.” But this diamond, “discovered” in 1877 in South Africa by Charles Lewis Tiffany, symbolizes how colonialism and white supremacy transformed the nation. As Karen Attiah noted in her op-ed for the Washington Post, this blood diamond is a poor symbolic representation of love.

The diamond trade is an $81.4B industry driven by gift-giving across the world. Over half of all diamonds are sourced from a relatively small group of communities across Africa. But the human cost is horrifying. Many people, particularly children, work in dangerous conditions. Many communities with otherwise underdeveloped economies have no other choice, forced to place their children in the mines instead of school. Armed groups have leveraged the diamond trade to seize power, exploiting the people and their lands for their own gain. And the extraction of diamonds and other precious metals can wreak havoc on the environment, polluting freshwater supplies and destroying aquatic biodiversity. Experts believe over 3.7 million lives have been lost due to conflict in the diamond trade, and over 1 million people are displaced (Time).

The Kimberley Process, established in 2003, was created to remove blood diamonds from the global supply chain. But many experts believe it’s intentionally filled with loopholes, contributing little to the issues at hand. Although it focuses on batches of diamonds from conflict zones, it fails to certify diamonds based on other ethical notes, like pay equity, working conditions, and whether mining displaces people from their homes (The Guardian). Furthermore, it only focuses on sourcing rough diamonds, so anything already polished or cut isn’t certified in this process (HRW). In 2018, the Human Rights Watch published a report of the torture and abuse the people on the Marange diamond fields of eastern Zimbabwe are still experiencing, despite the efforts noted above (HRW).

Today, Tiffany emphasizes that it sells conflict-free diamonds (Tiffany website), joining other retailers who have attempted to make their sourcing more transparent over the past few years. The jeweler Pandora announced in May 2021 that they will only use lab-grown diamonds in their products moving forward (CNBC). But as consumers become increasingly socially conscious and passionate about tracking the origins of their foods and goods, it’s unlikely that the diamond industry will get away with lackluster standards.

Celebrity endorsements of luxury goods, including diamonds, are nothing new. You’d be hard-pressed to find a famous figure that hasn’t participated in a similar campaign before. But it seems that fans expected more from Beyoncé’s brand, which has centered the celebration of Blackness in music, philanthropy, fashion, and partnerships over the past few years. Her 2020 movie “Black Is King,” a visual companion to the 2019 album “The Lion King: The Gift,” honors African culture, and was met with both praise and criticism (NPR). Critics of the Tiffany campaign note that of all celebrities, Beyoncé should have been more sensitive to the atrocities African people have experienced because of the diamond trade.

As consumers, we can do our part to demand change – both in this industry and others ripe with similar forms of exploitation and abuse. Use the guides above to make more conscious purchasing decisions, and call for accountability from the brands and influencers that you support.


Key Takeaways


  • Beyoncé and Jay-Z are featured in global jeweler Tiffany & Co.'s latest campaign.

  • The campaign centers a diamond sourced in 1877, likely through means of exploitation and abuse rampant in the diamond trade industry.

  • The global diamond trade industry has caused immense suffering in communities across Africa. Despite new standards, these atrocities still continue.


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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Protect abortion rights.

After the Supreme Court failed to block the legislation, Texas passed a law that essentially bans abortions after six weeks, which is in clear violation of Roe v. Wade. Known as Abortion providers in the state emphasized that the law, known as Senate Bill 8, will cause “at least 85%” of abortion patients to be unable to seek care. As a result, it’s likely that most abortion clinics will be forced to close (NYTimes). There has not been such a coordinated attack on abortion rights since the Supreme Court legalized abortion nationwide in 1973 (Pew Trust).


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

After the Supreme Court failed to block the legislation, Texas passed a law that essentially bans abortions after six weeks, which is in clear violation of Roe v. Wade. Known as Abortion providers in the state emphasized that the law, known as Senate Bill 8, will cause “at least 85%” of abortion patients to be unable to seek care. As a result, it’s likely that most abortion clinics will be forced to close (NYTimes). There has not been such a coordinated attack on abortion rights since the Supreme Court legalized abortion nationwide in 1973 (Pew Trust).

These abortion laws affect everyone who seeks to get an abortion in Texas, and the precedent this law sets threatens the rights of people in other states, too. But in Texas and across the country, people of color are less likely to have access to abortions already. Burdened by the lack of abortion clinics, costs, and lack of representation of doctors, abortion access has already been inequitably distributed. Much of this is intentional, the result of laws limiting access to reproductive care since enslavement.

Before the Civil War, abortion and contraceptives were legal in the U.S. These were administered by midwives, which, at the time, were majority Black and Indigenous women. Their work was increasingly considered a threat to white male doctors who dominated many other fields of care. They found the notion of white babies being delivered by non-white midwives both threatening to their careers and distasteful in the lens of white supremacy (ACLU).

What followed was an intentional smear campaign that devalued the work of midwives, referring to their practice as “barbaric” and “uncivilized.” In addition, the white, male-led field started to lobby the government to place restrictions on the services they offered – including abortions – so they could monopolize what’s left. These rules, of course, limited abortions to those deemed Medical organizations, like the American Medical Association (AMA), barred women and Black people from membership from ensuring that they weren’t seen as qualified practitioners (ACLU). (this is despite the fact that the reproductive science we know today was often the result of inhumane scientific research carried out on their bodies). The disparities of perception on who deserves to carry and birth children also contributed to harmful legislation passed against non-white women during this time, particularly related to immigration.

The most damning part of the bill is that it places individuals, not the government, responsible for enforcing the rules. If you, an everyday citizen, think someone in Texas is trying to obtain an abortion after six weeks of pregnancy, you can sue the prospective provider. If you win, you might even be compensated.

This is dangerous for a couple of reasons. From a legal perspective, it makes it very difficult to challenge this law in the courts. According to the NYTimes, “when a state passes an unconstitutional law, the typical way to challenge it is to seek an injunction against the state officer in charge of enforcing the law” (NYTimes). But because in this case, the people are the “state officers,” there’s no legal precedent for filing an injunction against them. Even if you could, it’s difficult to file an injunction against people that “could” sue an abortion provider before they already had. For example, I live in Texas, and although I’m technically granted this power, there’s no way I’d ever exercise it. It’s not easy to drag people like me into court, lumped in with all other citizens.

From a moral perspective, this draconian law places individuals as the prosecutors against people that can carry children. It’s absurd that individuals should have that much entitlement to any child-carrying person’s body – period. But it’s somehow more sinister than that. Private party enforcement has been used throughout history in various legislation but has a persistent presence in laws that disproportionately impact communities of color. Our policing system, for example, is rooted in the capture and torture of enslaved Black and Indigenous people and was supported by everyday white volunteers granted autonomy to enforce slavery laws (The Conversation). Redlining and other real estate tactics used to keep Black people out of adequate housing were enforced by private contracts for decades until deemed unconstitutional in Shelley v. Kraemer in 1948 (Anti-Racism Daily).

We already know that the abortion restriction laws disproportionately impact communities of color. According to the CDC, Black people in America are over three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white people (Refinery 29). The rise in anti-abortion sentiment is part of a broader culture war accelerated during the Trump administration. Laws like this one in Texas are being passed alongside laws that limit the rights of transgender youth, ban curriculum related to the racial inequities of our society, and make voting more difficult for marginalized communities (Pew Trust). This is a coordinated effort against the freedoms that everyone in our nation deserves. Take a moment today to support abortion rights groups in your area.


Key Takeaways


  • After the Supreme Court failed to block the legislation, Texas passed a law that essentially bans abortions after six weeks, which is in clear violation of Roe v. Wade.

  • The law is designed to be enforced by private citizens, who makes them responsible for reporting abortions and adds to a history of citizens acting as vigilantes.

  • Abortion access is influenced by racism and white supremacy.


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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Stop the diversity cash grab.

In the past year, many corporations responded to renewed attention to issues of racism and racial justice, some setting aside significant amounts of funding earmarked for distribution to groups working on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives and promoting the economic inclusion of Black Americans. We might wonder why it took widely-publicized murders and a nation-wide uprising for what’s typically a “drought stricken funding landscape” for diversity initiatives to change. We should also consider who actually benefits in a time when it’s “raining diversity dollars, and everyone is outside with a bucket” (Lightship). Sometimes, so-called “diversity” is actually tokenization that falls short of actually fostering inclusion.


TAKE ACTION


  • Encourage companies or organizations you’re part of to take concrete, material steps towards active anti-racism, even when they come with a cost.

  • Push back against tokenism by insisting on impactful policies and increased inclusion and diversity at all levels.

  • Advocate for credible DEI training led by people of color.


GET EDUCATED


By Andrew Lee (he/him)

In the past year, many corporations responded to renewed attention to issues of racism and racial justice, some setting aside significant amounts of funding earmarked for distribution to groups working on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives and promoting the economic inclusion of Black Americans. We might wonder why it took widely-publicized murders and a nation-wide uprising for what’s typically a “drought stricken funding landscape” for diversity initiatives to change. We should also consider who actually benefits in a time when it’s “raining diversity dollars, and everyone is outside with a bucket” (Lightship). Sometimes, so-called “diversity” is actually tokenization that falls short of actually fostering inclusion.

Tokenism or tokenization “results when institutions make performative efforts towards the inclusion of people from underrepresented groups to give the appearance of equity,” like appointing a few BIPOC or LGBTQ+ people to leadership positions in order to deflect critique. The only token members of a team have little power to actually effect change, and they’re moreover “often unfairly asked to speak on behalf of their entire community” (Wexner Foundation).

Token representation often doesn’t extend to the highest positions of power. Though companies supporting racial justice in the wake of the Black Lives Matter revolts “have been quick to adopt the movement’s hashtag, they don’t appear to show the same enthusiasm in their boardrooms: as of 2020, only four out of America's 500 biggest companies had a black chief executive (BBC). Despite press releases, advertisements, and internal diversity programming, the number of Black men on corporate boards of directors actually dropped in the last two years. Carey Oven of Deloitte’s Center for Board Effectiveness found that the lack of progress is due to a lack “of corporate will, rather than a lack of qualified minority candidates” (CNBC).

Many of the same successful companies that utterly failed to diversify management and board positions now contract with external DEI consultants in what is now an $8 billion industry (Forbes). Incredibly, this same tokenization happens in the diversity consulting industry, as well. White-led organizations are seeking federal and foundation grant money, jumping in line ahead of long-standing BIPOC-led groups. According to Lightship Capital, which exclusively supports companies founded by people from marginalized identities, they were approached by a white-led group to co-apply for a grant. The inquiring organization would keep 80% of the money for themselves, leaving only 20% for Lightship Capital “to do the actual, in the trenches work” (Lightship).

Instituting token representation is easy compared to actually creating the changes necessary for authentic inclusion. But actual inclusion is the only solution to systemic oppression and exclusion. There are organizations making honest attempts to change for the better, and there are DEI initiatives led by people of color with experience and skills. One, but by no means the only, is Anti-Racism Daily, which offers courses, workshops, and subscription packages for workplaces and teams (ARD).

North Coast Organics publicly posted their pay scales and demographic information for employees and management, making a commitment to equitable pay and hiring practices (Instagram). Fashion company Nisolo included a commitment to donate monthly to Black Lives Matter and Gideon’s Army of Nashville in their statement in support of Black lives (Nisolo). Sea to Sky Removal made a public commitment to “cut ties with customers, partners, and suppliers that do not share our commitment to battle racism in all its forms” (Sea to Sky).

Awaken offers diversity and inclusion workshops facilitated by a multi-racial team from a variety of professional backgrounds, from community organizers to communications specialists (Awaken). And Leesa Renée Hall has worked with thousands of people to interrupt unconscious bias with questions she first used to think through her own race, gender, religion and ancestry (Leesa Renée Hall).

What distinguishes sincere attempts to foster diversity from tokenism and cynical diversity cash grabs is that the former takes work but the latter takes the easy way out. Cutting ties with suppliers that aren’t actively anti-racist or taking the time to find a credible DEI consulting firm may cost time, energy, organizational resources, and money; promoting a single person from a marginalized group does not.


Key Takeaways


  • Tokenism is including one or two people from marginalized groups in order to deflect legitimate criticism.

  • Some organizations wish to capitalize on interest in and funding for racial justice initiatives by taking the easy way out and deploying tokenism in lieu of substantive change.

  • Real diversity, equity, and inclusion means changing policies and practices, even when it comes with a cost. Tokenism is easy but harmful.

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Unpack stereotypes on cleanliness.

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


TAKE ACTION


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

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


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

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

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

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

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

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

Jenny G. Zhang in Eater

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

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

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

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


Key Takeaways


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

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

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

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Advocate for equitable gaming.

Earlier this month, the state of California sued Activision Blizzard after a two-year investigation confirmed the organization had maintained a toxic workplace environment that’s hostile to women (Polygon). The company, which has created blockbuster games like World of Warcraft, Diablo, and Call of Duty, initially denied allegations, causing tensions to flare with consumers and employees alike. Hundreds of employees walked out to protest the company’s response (The Verge). The details of this particular lawsuit are incendiary but certainly not unique. There’s been a persistent lack of representation and inclusivity in the video game industry since its inception which has influenced how the gaming industry has treated marginalized employees and consumers.


TAKE ACTION


  • Support the work of Games for Change, a nonprofit that empowers game creators and social innovators to drive real-world impact through games and immersive media.

  • Explore a list of accessible games for kids that portray diverse characters and stories.

  • Learn more about the accessibility of video games on the site Can I Play That?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Earlier this month, the state of California sued Activision Blizzard after a two-year investigation confirmed the organization had maintained a toxic workplace environment that’s hostile to women (Polygon). The company, which has created blockbuster games like World of Warcraft, Diablo, and Call of Duty, initially denied allegations, causing tensions to flare with consumers and employees alike. Hundreds of employees walked out to protest the company’s response (The Verge). The details of this particular lawsuit are incendiary but certainly not unique. There’s been a persistent lack of representation and inclusivity in the video game industry since its inception which has influenced how the gaming industry has treated marginalized employees and consumers.

Toxic workplaces contribute to the lack of representation in video games, both on and off the screen. Approximately 24% of the workforce in the video gaming industry is female (Forbes). 7% of game developers identify as Latinx, and only 2% as Black or African-American (Venture Beat). These racial disparities reflect broader inequities found across the tech industry and similarly affect the diversity reflected in the product (Fortune). It’s not just racial and gender disparities, however. People with disabilities are also woefully underrepresented in the workforce. This is particularly damaging, considering that 92% of people with impairments play video games, and there are more than 33 million gamers with disabilities in the U.S. alone (Venture Beat).

When considering gameplay, 79.2% of lead characters in games are male, over half are white, and just 8.3% of main characters in games are females of non-white ethnicities (Newsweek). Many games portray negative and outdated stereotypes of Middle Eastern people, often reducing characters to mean terrorists and blatantly appropriating language and culture (Axios). Another study notes that Black male characters are virtually always violent, which influences conscious and unconscious bias. One study indicated that players were more likely to correlate Black faces with negative words after playing a violent video game as a Black character than after playing a violent video game as a white character (TechCrunch). Often, efforts towards diversity are prompted by external calls for accountability, like adding darker-skinned representation in the Sims 4 or textured hairstyles to Animal Crossing: New Horizons (Allure).

These allegations need to be addressed, especially as the gaming industry continues to grow. The U.S. video game industry grew 20% over the past year due to the pandemic and is expected to reach $30B in annual revenue by the end of the year (IGC). And video game consumption over-indexes with Black and Latinx youth; in a few years, they’re expected to be the predominant audience (TechCrunch). This audience is also at least 40% women, which shatters old stereotypes of the outdated notion of who “the gamer” is (Forbes). This diverse group of consumers deserve accessibility and to see themselves accurately represented.

Moreover, video games are increasingly creating and cultivating culture. The latest version of Animal Crossing, released last spring on Nintendo Switch, became the virtual destination for weddings, protests, and political campaigning (The Verge). Ariana Grande just went on tour virtually on the game Fortnite (The Verge). And just last week, Netflix announced that they plan to add video games to their streaming content within the next year (Bloomberg). Video games aren’t just a part of culture, they’re defining it as well – and will influence our collective perceptions of race, gender, class, and disabilities.

As consumers, we can’t necessarily change major video game hardware and software from the inside out. But the rise of direct-to-consumer goods and the creator economy does give us an opportunity to support diverse gamers. First, spend more time researching the developers behind the games that you might play right now, and you may be surprised about what you learn. Then, you can search for games created by indie, or independent, game developers on platforms like itch.io. And don’t be shy to advocate for representation within the games that you play! Sometimes, that simple action can make a world of difference.


Key Takeaways


  • 43% of white Americans say that they are “very confident” in their tap water, while only 24% of Black Americans and 19% of Hispanic Americans indicate the same degree of confidence.

  • Corporations are often allowed to bottle and resell municipal tap water at a high mark-up, skirting rules and regulations that disproportionately affect lower-income communities.

  • We need to mobilize around protecting the source of clean water, and center Indigenous communities who steward the land and waters.

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Protect access to drinking water.

The pandemic only accelerated a growing market: bottled water is a trending beverage, fueled by not just water skepticism, but a rise in health-conscious consumer habits. Michael C. Bellas, chairman and CEO of Beverage Marketing Corporation noted that the pandemic “showed how consumers have come to depend on bottled water for healthy, calorie-free hydration and refreshment” (Beverage Marketing). But is it fair that so many people are forced to rely on buying bottled water for their well-being?


TAKE ACTION



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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

The pandemic only accelerated a growing market: bottled water is a trending beverage, fueled by not just water skepticism, but a rise in health-conscious consumer habits. Michael C. Bellas, chairman and CEO of Beverage Marketing Corporation noted that the pandemic “showed how consumers have come to depend on bottled water for healthy, calorie-free hydration and refreshment” (Beverage Marketing). But is it fair that so many people are forced to rely on buying bottled water for their well-being?

According to a survey by SOURCE Global PBC, 43% of white Americans say that they are “very confident” in their tap water, while only 24% of Black Americans and 19% of Hispanic Americans indicate the same degree of confidence. And this sentiment was only enforced by the onset of the pandemic. In March 2020, bottled water sales increased by 57% as people stocked up – whether preparing for water shut-offs, stockpiling in the face of uncertainty, or as a result of worsening infrastructure. 25% of Black Americans indicate that they’ve been drinking more bottled water since the pandemic started. In contrast, 62% of white Americans state they haven’t changed their consumption at all (Forbes).

This sharp difference in bottled water consumption is rooted in the systemic inequities found in access to clean water. According to environmental advocacy group, Clean Water Action, 75% of Black Americans are more likely to live near polluting facilities than the general population. In addition, Hispanic American people are twice as likely to live in communities where the drinking water violates contamination laws (Forbes). These communities are often crippled by poor infrastructure that’s only worsening due to the impact of the pandemic.

In Lowndes County, Alabama, there are dozens of residents that have septic tanks in disrepair, with no ability to connect to municipal sewer lines. As a result, raw sewage is backing up into local homes or flowing directly into open-air pits, contaminating drinking water and spreading E. Coli and hookworm. Lowndes County’s Perman Hardy spent “hundreds of hours” advocating for her community until she finally got almost $3 million pledged for wastewater treatment (AL). But a technicality at the County Commission level caused the grant money to be returned in its entirety, leaving residents without recourse (AL). Earlier this year, we also highlighted the issues that homes in Jackson, MS are experiencing; to this day, they are still undergoing boil alerts.

As a result, corporations get to profit off of skepticism and scarcity. Initially, most of the bottled water sold in the U.S. came from natural springs. But as purification processes improved and demand grew, many brands moved to selling bottled tap water collected from the plant’s local utilities provider. Today, most of the bottled water in the U.S. is actually bottled from tap water (The Guardian). When residents in Detroit started to fall behind on their utilities bills during the pandemic, their water was shut off, forcing many to buy bottled water as a fallback. But Coca-Cola, who bottles Dasani water at the company’s Detroit plant, was allowed to rack up past-due bills while they bottled and sold the same water to citizens at a 133x markup (The Guardian). Although major bottled water distributors have been lauded for donating bottled water for those in need, it’s worth scrutinizing the business practices that enable them to be that generous.

The latest infrastructure bill currently under consideration in the Senate includes $15 billion dedicated to improving water quality over the next five years, with some funds specifically allocated to “small and disadvantaged communities” (NYTimes). This bill will be the largest federal investment in clean water in our nation’s history, and designed to address some of the major infrastructure issues affecting people across the U.S. (PBS). But we also need to see more action from the federal government on creating more equity with how major companies can hoard this resource.

We also need more concerted efforts to protect the sources of our water supply, which is increasingly under threat. Consider the current initiative to stop the Line 3 Pipeline, which is expected to funnel nearly a million barrels of tar sands (one of the dirtiest fossil fuels) through Indigenous lands between Alberta, Canada and Wisconsin, trampling through untouched wetlands and the Mississippi River headwaters (Stop Line 3). If we continue to allow corporations to control our relationship to water, rather than listening to the wisdom of Indigenous people that steward our land and water, it’s likely we will have nothing left.

When we talk about the rise of bottled water consumption, the onus is often placed on the individual, blaming them for the environmental impact of all that plastic “going to waste”. Yes, we can all do our part to minimize plastic consumption, and there’s a clear environmental impact (The Guardian). But all that attention is shielding ourselves from the real issue – that significant environmental issues contribute to the consumption of bottled water, not simply caused by them. And it’s going to take significant policy work – both on the local, state and federal level – to address the underlying issues that make clean water inaccessible.

We also need to work on shifting the deep distrust that these disparities have created. My grandmother was raised in a city where they didn’t trust tap water. As a result, she didn’t encourage her children to drink water. Consequently, mom didn’t encourage it with us (while we were young, at least. Her habits have since changed). All this despite the fact that we moved to a rural environment where the water is more trustworthy. In Flint, MI, the lack of trust between residents and city leader after willful neglect during their water crisis influenced public perception of the vaccine (NBC News).


As we continue to advocate for proper infrastructure, support local individuals and organizations doing their best to provide others with clean water, and protect this precious resource. Many of these efforts are grassroots, mutual-aid driven initiatives, organized by brave people uncompromising for change. Maybe you can be that person for your community.


Key Takeaways


  • 43% of white Americans say that they are “very confident” in their tap water, while only 24% of Black Americans and 19% of Hispanic Americans indicate the same degree of confidence.

  • Corporations are often allowed to bottle and resell municipal tap water at a high mark-up, skirting rules and regulations that disproportionately affect lower-income communities.

  • We need to mobilize around protecting the source of clean water, and center Indigenous communities who steward the land and waters.

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Rethink the space race.

Earlier this week, Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon, embarked on a ten-minute ride through space (CNN). I’m sure you already heard about it – it seems like everyone can’t stop talking about it (ourselves included, guilty)! One reporter noted that the time that the media spent covering Bezos’ space flight over the past few weeks is almost as much time as they spent covering the climate crisis throughout all of 2020 (Truthout).


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Earlier this week, Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon, embarked on a ten-minute ride through space (CNN). I’m sure you already heard about it – it seems like everyone can’t stop talking about it (ourselves included, guilty)! One reporter noted that the time that the media spent covering Bezos’ space flight over the past few weeks is almost as much time as they spent covering the climate crisis throughout all of 2020 (Truthout). Read more on why the media has difficulty covering the climate crisis.

Naturally, this publicity stunt drew swift criticism, admonishing a billionaire for a frivolous ride through space while ignoring the threats we face on Earth. From the fast-spreading Delta variant to rising temperaturesrent increases and ending unemployment benefits, and fires on land and sea, it’s clear why some people are asking, at minimum, for billionaires to “read the room.” Here’s our take on TikTok >

The enthusiasm of conversations about the event has misconstrued some of the facts. Bezos has invested a significant amount into addressing issues today, including $10B to the environment and $100M to poverty (Quartz). Bezos also announced two $100 million grants to two individuals he believes are changing the world upon his return from the flight. However, this pales compared to the $10B invested into Blue Origin to date (Quartz). It also ignores the ongoing impact that a major corporation like Amazon has on our long-term wellbeing (Wired). And some of these contributions, particularly those announced upon his return from space, feel performative at best (CNN).

But if we reflect on our history, this isn’t the first time that wealthy white men have used their power to colonize new frontiers. And each time, there’s always someone that pays the cost. Throughout history, the colonization of “new” frontiers disregarded the safety and wellbeing of both those that inhabited it and those bearing the brunt of the labor. Remember that these lands were “new” to some and “Indigenous” to many others). Even the infrastructure it’s taken to colonize this nation, from the Transcontinental Railroad to modern-day highways, has only happened at the hands of low-wage and enslaved laboring working in unsafe conditions – and only after the displacement of Indigenous and lower-income communities. This is still happening today, and these same communities are still reeling from its generational impact. Read more about the generational trauma of colonization.

Ironically, Bezos was sure to “thank” Amazon employees for making it financially possible for him to travel to space and invest in Blue Origin (CNN). But many of these same employees – blue color workers that are often people of color – have waged a battle for fair wages, workplace safety, and the right to unionize (PBS). Their struggles mirror some of the same challenges that those impacted faced decades before. And their stories have received disproportionately less coverage than this space flight.

And what is this rush to space for? Bezos believes we should send all our pollution-generated industries into space to minimize its impact on Earth (Fast Company). But how does that address the environmental impact of our time here? How does that protect this planet from harm? And in its wake, what communities will be further disenfranchised as a result?

Nevertheless, some are excited about what privatized space travel means for us. This is partially because our society has had an overall positive view of space exploration. 72% of Americans consider it “essential” for the U.S. to continue to be a world leader in exploring space (Pew Research). Much of this was fostered by the space race after World War II, where the strength of our democracy was defined by its technological innovations against the communist Soviet Union (History). Also, in this time of heightened uncertainty, it might feel inspiring and escapist to watch someone leave it all behind, if only for a few minutes.

But this space race, led by private organizations, is different. This time around, it feels like a flex of individual wealth and privilege than a collective pursuit for greatness—more on this in The Conversation. The same study indicated that, in contrast, only 33% believe that “private companies will ensure that enough progress is made in space exploration, even without NASA’s involvement” (Pew Research). Historically, funding, research, and development from privatized corporations have contributed to the NASA program. However, the work of Bezos and Branson hasn’t made lasting contributions to their work – yet.

How can we as consumers respond? The answer isn’t straightforward (unless you, too, are planning to fire up your rocket engines in the weeks ahead. I advise against). We can first cultivate more awareness of who’s harmed when we push for technological innovation. We can align our purchasing habits with brands that foster what we envision for our collective futures. And we can continue to demand representation and equity for those most marginalized in our own communities. Some call space the final frontier. But if it’s the last space we have for our survival, we should be more critical of how we make this journey.



Key Takeaways


  • Earlier this week, Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon, embarked on a ten-minute ride through space (CNN).

  • Throughout history, the colonization of “new” frontiers disregarded the safety and wellbeing of both those that inhabited it and those bearing the brunt of the labor.

  • As consumers, we can advocate and support the individuals and organizations that use their wealth for the future we envision.

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Confront the weaponization of white women tears.

There’s a trend on Tiktok where women – mainly white women – record themselves crying, then changing their expression to a smirk, showing how quickly they can fake their tears. More on this trend in Nylon. These videos are being condemned for demonstrating a very real and dangerous history of white women using their emotions to vilify Black people and other people of color.

Happy Monday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily! Over the past year, my social media algorithms have ultimately attuned themselves to all things racial equity. So I shouldn't have been surprised when two videos mentioned below appeared in my feed back-to-back. It made me remember how much of our history has been shaped by the weaponization of white women tears, and how we need to not just acknowledge it, but dismantle it.

Thank you for your support! This daily, free, independent newsletter is fully funded by contributions from our readers. Make a monthly or annual donation to join in, or give one-time on our websitePayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

– Nicole


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

There’s a trend on Tiktok where women – mainly white women – record themselves crying, then changing their expression to a smirk, showing how quickly they can fake their tears. More on this trend in NylonThese videos are being condemned for demonstrating a very real and dangerous history of white women using their emotions to vilify Black people and other people of color.

Consider another video also trending on Tiktok. This one is real: a woman is caught on camera physically attacking a Black Muslim woman in a store, only to break down crying, accusing the victim of attacking her. In the minutes that follow, the woman cries and screams, “get away from me,” while running towards the Black woman, who continues to back away (Complex).

This is just one of many recent examples of this practice, though. Amy Cooper called the police on a Black man who simply asked her to leash her dog, stating that he was “threatening her life” (NYTimes). A Starbucks employee called the cops on two Black men for “trespassing” while waiting for a friend (NBC News). Frustrated that the police didn’t come sooner, a white woman expressed she was scared by Black men barbecuing in the park (Newsweek).

But this practice is responsible for some of the most well-known injustices in our history. The Tulsa Race Massacre was sparked after Dick Rowland, an African American shoe shiner, accidentally stepped on the toe of Sarah Page, a white elevator, causing her to scream (OK History). And Emmett Till was just 14-years-old when he was brutally lynched in August 1955. Till was attacked because 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant, a white woman, accused him of making advances on her when he entered her family’s store to buy 2-cent bubble gum. The two men responsible – her husband and his half-brother – were acquitted (PBS). But in 2007, Bryant Donham (since remarried) confessed that she fabricated that part of her testimony (Vanity Fair). Despite this, Bryant Donham, who is still alive today, has not been charged with her complicity in the murder. Emmett Till’s birthday is July 25. He would be turning 80 years old. Learn more about the official foundation’s efforts to demand justice.

How did we get here? According to Wendy Brown in her book States of Injury, this stems from a practice that progressive moments have often centered the perspective of “wounded identities” (Princeton). Even though there are many wounded identities worth listening to in our society, the marginalization that white women experience – the “damsel in distress” narrative – is prioritized in our white supremacist culture. It’s also often weaponized by white men to justify racial discrimination (consider our article on pools from last week) (NYTimes). Some white women may use it unconsciously, familiar with the privilege of having their emotions come before another’s. But, as in the examples noted above, it’s often used intentionally to minimize accountability, deflect blame, or worse, inflict harm in scenarios where they know their whiteness grants them superiority. Ironically, it’s often used by the same people that will denounce acts of racism, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to see how power and privilege play in these situations. Ruby Hamad’s book, “White Tears/Brown Scars: How White Feminism Betrays Women of Color,” is a comprehensive resource to dive further.

Today, this violence is codified in the racial bias of algorithms and content moderators on social media platforms today. White women tears trended last month on Tiktok as the platform was banning content with terms “pro-Black”, “Black Lives Matter”, “Black success” and “Black people” (NME). Videos of violent encounters go viral across social media, but rarely do posts outlining the importance of acknowledging white fragility or dismantling white feminism. Although trending videos drive awareness, they continue to reiterate who is centered in the broader narrative around racism and systemic oppression. And in the process, they trigger those most impacted by this harm.

Remember that for every video that trends, there are dozens more of these scenarios happening offline - perhaps in your workplace, park, or local coffee shop. It shouldn’t take a victim to record the violent incident for them to be believed. Consider: how can you prioritize the needs of those experiencing harm? How can you be an active bystander for someone experiencing this type of attack? And how can you use your power and privilege to change this narrative? The TikTok trend may have started innocuously, but this practice is guilty of harming too many people of color. And until we dismantle it, our work to create a more equitable future will continue to get washed away.


Key Takeaways


  • A trend on Tiktok encouraging users to post videos of themselves fake crying has reignited conversations on how white women tears have been weaponized against communities of color.

  • Some of the significant historical injustices against Black people that we know of have been started by weaponized white women tears.

  • When white women weaponize their emotions to cause harm against people of color, they perpetuate the same systemic oppression they often claim to oppose.


RELATED ISSUES


5/21/2021 | Understand whiteness.

4/6/2021 | Unpack white feminism.


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

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Confront rising temperatures.

Neighborhoods of color affected by redlining, historic bank and government-sponsored housing discrimination, are five degrees hotter than non-redlined neighborhoods since they have dramatically less tree cover. In Portland, OR, they’re a shocking 13 degrees warmer (NPR). Communities of color are where state and business elites dump toxic chemicals, coal-fired power plants, and chemical factories across the country. “The climate emergency will have a disproportionate impact on Black and Brown communities” (Guardian) since “the lack of equitable investment in low-income communities leaves people even more at risk for climate change impacts” (NRDC).

Happy Monday and welcome back! You may be living in a city that experienced some significantly high temps last week. But who's responsible for the rising temperatures, and who's most affected? Today, Andrew unpacks the issue for today's newsletter.

For more perspectives on the environment and the future of this planet, I highly recommend reading our Earth Week series where we interviewed leading youth environmental justice activists on their work. It's available in full in our archives.

Thank you for your support! This daily, free, independent newsletter is fully funded by contributions from our readers. Make a monthly or annual donation to join in.


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

Swathes of North America have been embroiled in a blistering, record-setting heat wave. The Lake Mead reservoir, which provides water to 25 million, is at the lowest level ever since its construction in the 1930s (CNN). In Vancouver, British Columbia, shellfish are being baked to death in their shells (Business Insider). Dozens of people died in Oregon alone when temperatures reached 116 degrees (Newsweek). After temperatures broke 121 Fahrenheit, a rapidly-moving wildfire consumed the entire town of Lytton (CNN). A group of scientists reported that heat so “far outside the range of past observed temperatures” is “virtually impossible without the influence of human-caused climate change” (CNN). That means this summer’s extremes aren’t a fluke but rather part of a near-apocalyptic pattern. 


According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the average global temperature will rise by two to four degrees Celsius by century’s end, though a rise of just 1.5 degrees would “near the upper limit of what’s tolerable” (KQED). Overshooting that mark means daily flooding along the East Coast (Press Herald), a billion people fleeing droughts and starvation (Reuters), and frequent heat waves severe enough to cook the organs inside your body (The Conversation). These aren’t worst-case scenarios, they’re projections of what happens should current trends continue. 


Given the disasters already in motion and predictions of regular organ-cooking temperatures across large swathes of the inhabited world, it’s understandable to think we’re all doomed. When global ecosystems are at a crisis point, we’re all in this together, right? 


But in a deeply unequal world, a global crisis has wildly uneven effects. A rising tide may lift all boats, but those closest to shore drown first. There are some for whom climate catastrophe is a cause for hand-wringing concern about their hypothetical grandchildren’s living standards. There are others for whom the crisis arrived years ago. 


Neighborhoods of color affected by redlining, historic bank and government-sponsored housing discrimination, are five degrees hotter than non-redlined neighborhoods since they have dramatically less tree cover. In Portland, OR, they’re a shocking 13 degrees warmer (NPR). Communities of color are where state and business elites dump toxic chemicals, coal-fired power plants, and chemical factories across the country. “The climate emergency will have a disproportionate impact on Black and Brown communities” (Guardian) since “the lack of equitable investment in low-income communities leaves people even more at risk for climate change impacts” (NRDC). When Lytton burned, those hardest-hit were the 1,000 members of Indigenous Nlaka’pamux community (CNN). And the climate refugees are already here: a devastating drought is one of the factors pushing the Central American migrants whom the Biden administration keeps incarcerating at the U.S.-Mexico border (ABC).


Droughts and rising sea levels already threaten modern-day U.S. colonies like the U.S. Virgin Islands (Caribbean Journal), “purchased” from Denmark in the early 20th century, and Guam, “acquired” in the Spanish-American War, where 34% of coral reefs died between 2013 and 2017. “One of the first steps is self-determination,” said the vice-chair of Guam’s Climate Change Resiliency Commission. “We’re a colony, and that’s part of dialogue” (Pacific Daily News). 


While the poorest communities and nations bear the brunt of the ongoing climatological disaster, those with the most economic power and military might are those creating and profiting from it. Liberal environmentalists claim that the solution to climate change is changing personal consumer choices, like driving less or buying “green.”  


But promoting recycling doesn’t change the fact that one of the largest polluters in the world is the U.S. military, which uses 270,000 barrels of oil a day and emits more greenhouse gases than most countries (Yahoo). Multinational corporations are responsible for 20% of global greenhouse gas emissions. “Walmart... generated more emissions abroad than the whole of Germany’s foreign-owned retail sector. Coca-Cola’s emissions around the world were equivalent to the whole of the foreign-owned food and drink industry hosted by China” (Ecologist). 

Some say that humans are killing the planet, that we are all at risk and all of us are to blame. This is untrue. Upper management and investors in multinational corporations and American government elites are destroying the planet, and the very people they have long preyed upon are the first to be displaced, starve, roast, drown, and die. 


To preserve a habitable world for all of us and our descendants may require a fundamental shift in how we produce things and structure social and international relations. In the short term, a blanket approach to environmentalism will not suffice. Even major philanthropic foundations are starting to recognize that environmental racism and climate change affect poor nations and communities of color first (AP). Supporting the leadership of these communities in opposing the destructive systems that threaten life as we know it is a human imperative.


Key Takeaways


  • Climate change and environmental degradation disproportionately impact marginalized communities of color in the U.S. and around the world.

  • Those heating the planet are powerful institutions like major corporations and the U.S. military.

  • These communities should lead the way in fighting for environmental justice.


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

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Make swimming more inclusive

Last week, the International Swimming Federation (FINA) banned swimming caps for Black hair from the Tokyo Olympics because they don’t follow “the natural form of the head”. Soul Cap, a company that makes swimming caps designed to fit over thick, curly hair and hairstyles common in the Black community, said that the international governing body for swimming rejected an application for their caps to be certified for use at competitions (Washington Post). After a week of criticism from athletes, partners, and the general public, the organization announced Wednesday that it would revisit this decision (NPR).

Happy Friday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily! There’s been a series of discriminatory policies affecting Black athletes participating in the Tokyo Olympics. These policies reflect institutionalized racism that’s been codified throughout history. Today’s newsletter looks at the history of access to swimming pools and how it shapes participation in the sport today.


Thank you for your support! This daily, free, independent newsletter is made possible by your support. Make a monthly donation to support our team.

– Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Watch the documentary “Passage at St. Augustine: The 1964 Black Lives Matter Movement That Transformed America” to learn more about wade-ins during the Civil Rights Movement.

  • Donate to Tank Proof, a nonprofit organization making swim classes accessible to historically excluded youth.

  • Consider: How does the local beach, pool, or other recreational space in your community prioritize diversity and inclusion?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Last week, the International Swimming Federation (FINA) banned swimming caps for Black hair from the Tokyo Olympics because they don’t follow “the natural form of the head”. Soul Cap, a company that makes swimming caps designed to fit over thick, curly hair and hairstyles common in the Black community, said that the international governing body for swimming rejected an application for their caps to be certified for use at competitions (Washington Post). After a week of criticism from athletes, partners, and the general public, the organization announced Wednesday that it would revisit this decision (NPR).


This continues a series of discriminatory policies facing Black female Olympic athletes as the 2020 Games approach, drawing broader calls of racism (Salon). But this example, in particular, touches on a long and troubling history of banning Black people from participating in aquatic activities. 


Before World War I, municipal pools acted as public bathhouses, frequented by people from all backgrounds, social classes, and races (although men and women were required to swim on different days). But after the war, the rise of recreational spaces in the U.S. shifted the concept of pools from utility to leisure. Swimming became more of a luxury than a necessity. Rules changed so men and women could swim together, drawing families and creating a new social activity for mingling. By 1933, Americans were spending as much time in pools as at the movie theatres (NPR).


But as swimming as a leisure activity grew, so did racial discrimination against Black people at pools. White people worried about having Black men swimming with white women. Some fears drew on racial tropes that Black men were sexually violent. Others were concerned that co-mingling would encourage interracial relationships. White elites also perceived Black, Asian and Latino people – even working-class white people – as dirty and prone to carry communicable diseases (National Geographic). As a result, many pools had “whites-only” days, pools were often sequestered in white neighborhoods, and individuals and local governments alike would reinforce who “belonged” in public swimming spaces (NPR).


And it wasn’t just pools – similar discriminatory practices affected how Black people and other people of color could access any public recreational spaces, including movie theatres, dance halls, amusement parks, and beaches.


These public spaces became the center of demonstrations for racial equity. Organized protests, referred to as “wade-ins,” were held at beaches and pools, where Black people and allies would get in the water where they were not allowed (History). In one highly publicized incident in 1964, Black and white protestors jumped into the Monson Motor Lodge pool in St. Augustine, FL. The manager, infuriated, dumped acid into the pool while the protestors were swimming (St. Augustine). Photos from the incident accelerated the civil rights movement, and pushed President Johnson to get the Civil Rights Act passed. View photos from the protest, and read a reflection on how the St. Augustine local paper covered the Civil Rights Movement.


In theory, the passing of the act should have ended racially segregated public spaces. Instead, many public pools closed. Others charged high fees, only allowed people that lived close by, and implemented “referral-only” policies to keep the space exclusive (National Geographic). This also sparked the rise of the backyard pool trend, as wealthy white people instead decided to have a pool space all to themselves. Public pools, already a costly investment for initial installation and upkeep, received less funding overall as a result. Many shut down (National Geographic).


This discrimination has lasting implications. According to a 2017 report from the USA Swimming Foundation, 64% of African American children had no or low swimming ability, compared to 40% of white children (Swimming World Magazine). More importantly, the study indicates that if a parent does not know how to swim, there is only a 13% chance that their child will learn how to swim. Unsurprisingly, not learning how to swim greatly increases one’s risk of drowning. According to the YMCA, swim lessons for children ages 1-4 reduce the risk of drowning by 88% (YMCA). The CDC reported that, between 1999 and 2010, Black children drowned in swimming pools at a rate of up to 10 times higher than their white peers (CDC). It will take conscious effort to undo the harm of the past and make aquatics feel more accessible to all.


Key Takeaways


  • The International Swimming Federation is reconsidering a decision to ban swimming caps for Black hair from the Tokyo Olympics. 

  • Black people have long been banned from aquatic spaces through explicit policies, referral and fee-based exclusion, and even the closure of public in favor of private pools.

  • As a result, Black people have much lower rates of swimming ability than white people, leading to a dramatically higher risk of death by drowning.


RELATED ISSUES



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

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Understand the TikTok strike.

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

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

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

– Nicole


TAKE ACTION


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

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

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

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


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


Key Takeaways


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

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

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


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Fight for Black trans lives.

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

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

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

– Nicole


TAKE ACTION


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

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

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


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Key Takeaways


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

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

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

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


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Stop rainbow-washing.

It’s Pride Month, which means many brands are unrolling a colorful new look – changing their logos and websites, launching rainbow-colored gear, even flaunting colorful marketing campaigns on social media and in-store. Some use this opportunity to raise funds for LGBTQIA+ causes or feature LGBTQIA+ talent in advertising campaigns. This is referred to as rainbow-washing, or “the practice of adding rainbow colors and/or imagery to advertising, apparel, accessories, landmarks, etc. to indicate progressive support for LGBTQ equality (and earn consumer credibility) — but with a minimum of effort or pragmatic result” (Medium).

Happy Thursday and welcome back! Today is our one-year anniversary! Somehow, we've sent one email each morning tackling anti-racism and systemic oppression since June 3, 2020 🎉

Here’s a look at the past year in the numbers:

  • 401: Emails sent, including a daily newsletter each day and our 28 Days of Black History and Earth Week series 💌

  • $2,500,000: Estimated total funds donated by our community to causes over the past year 💸

  • 2: Confederate landmarks dismantled or renamed because of our article 💥

  • 37: Number of grandparents that signed up here because their kids encouraged them to 😊

  • 97: Corporations that have invested in group subscriptions 👩🏾‍💻

  • 1,954: Typos from sending these emails bleary-eyed from at 3:30a Alaska time (7:30a EST) 🥺

  • 250,000+ strong community committed to taking action 💪🏾

How has the ARD made an impact in your social justice work? Share your story with us here.

We're looking forward to another year, as we expand our team, add new learning opportunities for Fall 2021, continue our podcast and virtual community, and battle trolls on Instagram.

And we couldn't have done this without you! Thank you for keeping this independent platform going. Become a recurring subscriber today or tomorrow and we'll send you some swag to show our thanks!

– Nicole and Team ARD

Now, for today's topic: we're analyzing how corporations try to capitalize off of Pride Month, which stands for something far greater than rainbow-washing. Happy Pride, ya'll!


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

It’s Pride Month, which means many brands are unrolling a colorful new look – changing their logos and websites, launching rainbow-colored gear, even flaunting colorful marketing campaigns on social media and in-store. Some use this opportunity to raise funds for LGBTQIA+ causes or feature LGBTQIA+ talent in advertising campaigns. This is referred to as rainbow-washing, or “the practice of adding rainbow colors and/or imagery to advertising, apparel, accessories, landmarks, etc. to indicate progressive support for LGBTQ equality (and earn consumer credibility) — but with a minimum of effort or pragmatic result” (Medium).

This tactic certainly isn’t new. Green-washing is a similar practice that acts as a shallow commitment to sustainability, for example. But it’s difficult to watch in a time where the LGBTQIA+ community is experiencing unprecedented levels of violence and discrimination and one year after a racial reckoning where brands feigned support for equity and inclusion.

From a marketing perspective, it makes no sense that the global LGBTQIA+ community, with a combined $3.7 trillion in purchasing power, is only thought of for one month of the year (Entrepreneur). Although historically overlooked in consumer data and analytics, the LGBTQIA+ community was recently included in Nielsen rating statistics (NYTimes). Although there’s still much to be done to have the community fully represented in data (looking at you, U.S. Census), there’s no excuse for brands to ignore the LGBTQIA+ community the rest of the year while only providing rainbows as acknowledgment in June. It seems like some corporations think yearly superficial appeals to the LGBTQIA+ community will allow them to tap into this market, while making real commitments to the community would prove too costly.

What’s more sinister is that many of the same brands fail to support the LGBTQIA+ community. In many cases, they are actively harming them through capitalistic business practices and discriminatory company policies. Many of these same brands have stayed silent as the LGBTQIA+ community experiences a series of attacks, most recently, the rise of anti-trans legislation passing in states across the country. The Human Rights Campaign created a comprehensive way for corporate America to take note (HRC), and activists and advocates demand more leaders take accountability (Advocate). Marketplace brands like Amazon have been found to be supporting anti-LGBT organizations on their platforms (The Hill). Google announces its support for Pride but allows homophobic harassment to be monetized on YouTube, which it owns (New Now Next). Employees can be constantly misgendered at companies outwardly touting their status as “inclusive workplaces” (Archer).

"

Rainbow-washing allows people, governments, and corporations that don’t do tangible work to support LGBTQ+ communities at any other time during the year to slap a rainbow on top of something in the month of June and call it allyship.

Justice Namaste, Social Media Coordinator, via Wired

Researchers at The Trevor Project found that 35% of LGBTQIA+ youth experience discrimination at work. Transgender and nonbinary youth reported nearly twice as much discrimination, and LGBTQIA+ youth of color were also more likely to experience discrimination (Trevor Project).

And it goes beyond just supporting causes that seem directly related to the LGBTQIA+ community. Remember that all of the greatest social issues of our time, from police brutality to the economy and the environmental crisis, all disproportionately impact LGBTQIA+ people, especially those of color. When corporations fail to hold themselves accountable for addressing these issues, they choose to ignore the needs of those most vulnerable. And that falls far from allyship.

Pride wasn’t an event created to wear colorful clothing. It began as a riot in response to police brutality, commemorated by continued protests and demonstrations (them). This liberatory movement, led by the Black and brown LGBTQIA+ community, has fought and will continue to fight for justice. It deserves to be reflected in how organizations operate and not just what they sell. As YK Hong said on Instagram, "pride is not simply a celebration. It is also a call to action".

Over the past week, we’ve analyzed how corporations are often quick to feign support without actually practicing solidarity. Rainbow-washing during Pride Month is another example of how corporations can enforce an inequitable system even while making equitable statements.


Key Takeaways


  • Rainbow-washing is the practice of adding rainbow colors and/or imagery to advertising, apparel, accessories, landmarks, etc. to indicate progressive support for LGBTQ equality (and earn consumer credibility) — but with a minimum of effort or pragmatic result” (Medium)

  • Many corporations practice rainbow-washing while actively causing harm to the LGBTQIA+ community

  • To truly celebrate Pride, corporations must commit to addressing the disparities that disproportionately impact the LGBTQIA+ community, and demonstrate a willingness to dismantle the norms


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Do not circulate graphic videos of police brutality.

But race is a social construct, and social constructs have social histories. Our The first place generating criticism is in financial commitments. Companies in the U.S. pledged a collective $50 billion to various racial initiatives (Financial Times), an unprecedented response to social issues (Washington Post). But, research indicates that only $250 million has actually been spent or committed to a specific initiative (Financial Times). William Cunningham, the chief executive of Creative Investment Research, who published the study, notes that until those funds are actually spent, there’s no reason they couldn’t be retracted or allocated to another initiative. Another survey found that tech companies that made commitments have 20% fewer Black employees on average than those that didn’t (Bloomberg), adding more skepticism to some organizations’ intentions.

​Happy Tuesday and welcome back to the newsletter. This was never meant to be a newsletter that lasted a year. I was in a lot of pain when I started this project. It felt like the whole world woke up to the violence that white supremacy has wielded for generations. I pledged to send one email each day because we know that this work isn't solved with one action. This world won't change from reactions, but a collective, persistent investment today, tomorrow, and the day after, too. Today is a reflection on the ongoing conversations on the role of graphic videos in public discourse.


Thank you to everyone that makes this work possible, particularly the ones that have been here since the start. We won't stop until we're all free. If you want to support, give $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Join the George Floyd Remembrance Virtual Day of Action by participating in any of the action items listed on the campaign page.

  • Donate to Yes 4 Minneapolis, a Black-led campaign to replace the Minneapolis Police Department with a new Department of Public Safety.

  • Use the resources created by the Witness Media Lab when considering posting or sharing videos of police brutality.

  • If you feel resourced, reflect on what you’ve learned – and unlearned – about the fight for racial equity over the past year. How can you continue to advocate for change? Use this article for guidance on identifying your role in your community.


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

One year ago, George Floyd was murdered by a member of the Minneapolis Police Department. A video of his death, recorded by then 17-year-old Darnella Frazier, generated tens of millions of views in the following days and has been shared repeatedly across this past year, reigniting the everlasting fight for racial equity (NowThis). It’s undeniable that the video, and the conversation that sparked from it, fundamentally shifted society. It’s also re-ignited discussions on the role of violent videos available for public consumption, particularly regarding their impact on communities of color.


Note: this is different than advocating for the release of bodycam videos to the public. Bodycam footage, designed to hold police officers accountable while on the job, should never be withheld from a victim’s family and community.

But violence against Black people has also been used as a commodity, bartered and sold throughout time. I can’t help but think about how, just decades ago, lynchings were treated as a public attraction. Crowds would gather to partake in festivities surrounding the unjust killing, posing for photographs and taking home pieces of the person’s corpse as “souvenirs.” Postcards would be created and distributed as lasting memories. Learn more in a previous newsletter. Videos taken by police bodycams and shared widely have a similar feeling; digital souvenirs of violence protected by social and political norms.

But user-generated videos, like the one recorded by Frazier, have a different intent. Although still difficult to watch, they’re the recordings of what an everyday person was forced to bear witness to, individuals rendered helpless in the face of violence. Recording a conflict can be a form of bystander intervention when other options are limited. And social movements across time have been sparked by marginalized communities leveraging whatever channel they can to ensure their voices are heard. In this case, user-generated videos are journalism, a testament to the stories that define generations.

Author and professor Allissa Richardson, who advocates for citizen journalism and encourages everyone to consider their role in documenting the world around them, refers to it as sousveillance. This is the opposite of surveillance, created by body cameras, security cameras, and other public, often state-sanctioned forms of recordings. Sousveillance is people capturing stories with their own devices (usually smartphones) that will likely counter or disprove the facts presented by those with more power and privilege (Nieman Lab).


It’s no surprise that journalism leaders are calling for Darnella Frazier to receive the Pulitzer Prizes in Public Service for the video she recorded that changed the world, undoubtedly exemplifying content that “roots out corruption and contributes to the public good” (Nieman Lab).


Regardless of their intention, though, these assets need to be shared with sensitivity, as they exacerbate the trauma that people of color experience regularly. A study found that 20% of Black people who watch a video are “significantly affected” by it, experiencing lasting effects, including stress, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorders, or vicarious PTSD (Yahoo). These only elevate the race-based trauma that people of color experience in their daily lives (PBS). In an article written by Arionne Nettles, Alfiee Breland-Noble, the founder and director of mental health organization AAKOMA Project, notes how Black adolescents deal with vicarious trauma from watching the videos (ZORA).

Instead, cellphone videos of vigilante violence and fatal police encounters should be viewed like lynching photographs — with solemn reserve and careful circulation.


Allissa Richardson, assistant professor at the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School for Communications and Journalism, 2021 fellow at the Berkman Klein Center for Internet and Society at Harvard University, and author of Bearing Witness While Black: African Americans, Smartphones, and the New Protest Journalism, for Nieman Labs.

Leon Ford, who was shot and paralyzed by a police officer during a traffic stop in 2012, also urges us to consider the individuals and families of the victims. “These people have children. These people have cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, who can’t live a normal life...even though I don't watch those videos, I can feel that energy. When I see somebody posting, I scroll past it. It still sticks to me” (Yahoo).

Some will argue that it’s necessary to share because we will never be able to fight for justice without them. But what does it say about us that justice can only be pursued for the most atrocious cases, and only if they were captured on video and circulated broadly enough to create public outcry? Why is justice only justified when the crime is warranted worthy of national attention? Most urgently, when will we take action not to share, but change the social conditions to ensure that these instances never happen again?

That will take us changing our behavior. We must channel immediate outrage into a persistent commitment to long-term change. Media platforms are taking note; more have chosen not to post the videos on their social media feeds and create multiple news articles highlighting the event – one including the video footage, one without. And as individuals, we can do the same. Instead of sharing to elicit strong emotions like shock or disgust, consider sharing the information sans video. More importantly, we recommend sharing proactive ways your community can address policing and public safety issues, like upcoming city council meetings or alternatives to calling the police. It’s action – not awareness – that will prevent these videos in the future.



Key Takeaways


  • The U.S. has a long history of distributing assets depicting violence on marginalized bodies

  • The circulation of police violence videos often exacerbate stress, anxiety, vicarious trauma and PTSD in the Black community

  • We need to evolve beyond sharing for shock and awe and take action for solidarity


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Analyze corporate commitments to racial equity.

But race is a social construct, and social constructs have social histories. Our The first place generating criticism is in financial commitments. Companies in the U.S. pledged a collective $50 billion to various racial initiatives (Financial Times), an unprecedented response to social issues (Washington Post). But, research indicates that only $250 million has actually been spent or committed to a specific initiative (Financial Times). William Cunningham, the chief executive of Creative Investment Research, who published the study, notes that until those funds are actually spent, there’s no reason they couldn’t be retracted or allocated to another initiative. Another survey found that tech companies that made commitments have 20% fewer Black employees on average than those that didn’t (Bloomberg), adding more skepticism to some organizations’ intentions.

Happy Monday, and welcome back to the daily newsletter! Today is a quick check-in on how corporate accountability has progressed since pledges made last year. I see this as an opportunity to both recognize pitfalls and explore the possibilities of where we can grow from here.


Thank you to everyone that supports our independent publishing! If you can, consider giving $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. I'm grateful for your support!

Nicole


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

After the racial reckoning last summer, many companies quickly made broad public statements on how they can do better. But, one year later, research and testimony indicate that many haven’t lived up to their promises.

The first place generating criticism is in financial commitments. Companies in the U.S. pledged a collective $50 billion to various racial initiatives (Financial Times), an unprecedented response to social issues (Washington Post). But, research indicates that only $250 million has actually been spent or committed to a specific initiative (Financial Times). William Cunningham, the chief executive of Creative Investment Research, who published the study, notes that until those funds are actually spent, there’s no reason they couldn’t be retracted or allocated to another initiative. Another survey found that tech companies that made commitments have 20% fewer Black employees on average than those that didn’t (Bloomberg), adding more skepticism to some organizations’ intentions.

In addition, Jay Peters at The Verge adds context to the true amount of the commitments made by big tech companies. Although Apple’s commitment of $100 million, for example, sounds quite large, it’s relatively minuscule when considering that they made $6.3 million in profit every single hour last year (The Verge). This isn’t to discredit the clear impact that $100 million can make, but to emphasize how much more companies could do with lasting, consistent investment.

This graph, from the same The Verge article, adjusts corporate contributions to racial equity against the median U.S. salary of $63,179 to demonstrate how little, relatively, tech companies pledged.

Many also pledged to improve conditions internally by diversifying their talent pipeline, addressing barriers to employment eligibility, and increasing representation in the executive suite (Financial Times). But, a year later, many of those same large companies have yet to release their diversity metrics, making it challenging to quantify comprehensive change.

Ada*, a Black woman, watched this unfold at the financial services company she works for. The company publicly announced significant investments into companies owned by marginalized communities and plans to diversify its hiring practices. But the company has yet to share its metrics on hiring. “I’ve asked human resources for the data,” she explains, “but they say it’s tricky because they don’t have the accurate data. This makes no sense to me, considering they asked me my race/ethnicity on my job application.”

Khalia*, who worked in development at a national nonprofit organization, noted that her company made commitments to change internal culture last June. But, efforts that were implemented faded after a few months. “We had an ERG that met monthly to discuss areas where we could improve company culture. This space brought up a lot of things the executive leadership wasn’t aware of. But now, most of the people that initially joined don’t come to the meetings anymore, including those same leaders. It feels like an afterthought. And I don’t think we’ve actually changed anything for the better”. She ultimately left the organization because she desired a stronger commitment to the cause.

This scrutiny is compounded when considering how companies invested in equity initiatives before last summer. Because of COVID-19, jobs with titles like “chief diversity officer,” “diversity and inclusion recruiter,” or “D&I program manager” fell nearly 60 percent between early March and early June, according to the careers site Glassdoor (Washington Post). In comparison, jobs overall fell by 28%, and human resources roles fell by 49%, demonstrating that many companies felt like this was the best place to reduce costs. Since the murder of George Floyd and the subsequent protests, diversity job postings are surging. But filling the position isn’t enough; experts warn that these can be performative hires if leaders aren’t empowered and supported to guide corporate change (Axios).

Individuals, often employees of color, have taken on the task of carrying this work forward, regardless of their company’s investment. Ada has been intentional about incorporating initiatives to address systemic oppression and racism with her team, which she believes increases feelings of belonging and solidarity. “We have ongoing conversations, book clubs, watch movies, etc. My team has said that they look forward to it because they don’t have that outlet anywhere else.”

But individual employees aren’t the only ones taking note. Shareholders at major companies are pressuring executive leadership to perform racial audits for transparency and accountability (Forbes). Of seven big Wall Street banks, six urged shareholders to reject the proposals, despite the deep history of racial inequity in the financial sector (Inequality). Shareholders at Amazon, which is facing a slew of new allegations of racism and discrimination through its product offering and working conditions, are expected to vote on a racial audit on May 26 (Forbes).

Nevertheless, it’s important to recognize that all progress made so far – and how far we have to go has happened because each of us raise our voices and rally for change. “The only reason companies cared is because their employees did,” said Ada. “If people continue the momentum, there will be more accountability.” As the summer unfolds, continue to hold the organization you may work for, buy from, and engage with accountable to shift culture, both for employees and broader society.

We’d love to hear from our Black, Indigenous, and other readers of color: how has the company you work for respond to the events last year? How has it changed your experience working at your company? Reply to this email with your thoughts. 

*Names have been changed.



Key Takeaways


  • As we approach one year since the racial reckoning of last summer, individuals and shareholders are scrutinizing the pledges made by major corporations to addressing racial equity

  • Over $50B was pledged by major corporations to racial equity initiatives, but so far, an estimated $250M has been committed

  • A growing number of shareholders are voting for their corporations to perform racial audits for accountability


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Advocate for fair housing appraisals.

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

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


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

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


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

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

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


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

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

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

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

The house was appraised for $465,000.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andre M. Perry for Vox


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


Key Takeaways


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

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

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


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Increase access to identification in your community.

According to the ACLU, 11% of U.S. citizens – or more than 21 million Americans – do not have government-issued photo identification (ACLU). Much of the conversation around the need for IDs revolves around voting, driven by the rise of legislation that states across the country are implementing that include stricter identification requirements (NPR). Marginalized groups, including those disabled, the elderly population, and people of color, are less likely to have identification than the general population, which means their voices are minimized in elections. But beyond that, the identification gap causes many issues for people across the country, particularly during COVID-19.

Good morning and happy Tuesday! Many of the issues we focus on here have to do with access, offering ways we can advocate to make things more cost-effective, culturally-responsive, safer, etc. But the issue of identification and verification is often an underlying issue. It's one of the most foundational aspects of engaging in the social and political systems in the U.S. but not equitably distributed. Today, we review the urgency of identification during the pandemic and organizations making a difference.  


This newsletter is possible because of our gracious supporters! Consider giving $7/month on 
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Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Support local organizations near you tackling the identification issue in your community, similar to the ones referenced at the end of the article.

  • Research to see whether your state requires photo identification to vote.

  • If you have easeful access to identification, consider: What daily activities does your ID allow you to do without thought? How would your day today change if you didn’t have identification?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

According to the ACLU, 11% of U.S. citizens – or more than 21 million Americans – do not have government-issued photo identification (ACLU). Much of the conversation around the need for IDs revolves around voting, driven by the rise of legislation that states across the country are implementing that include stricter identification requirements (NPR). Marginalized groups, including those disabled, the elderly population, and people of color, are less likely to have identification than the general population, which means their voices are minimized in elections. But beyond that, the identification gap causes many issues for people across the country, particularly during COVID-19.

First, lack of identification has made it more difficult for people to get vaccinated. The federal government does not mandate the need for identification, emphasizing that it’s imperative that everyone, regardless of immigrant status, has access to the vaccine. But each state has a different registration process, and vaccination sites often make up their own rules (Washington Post). I had to bring my ID and proof of residency to receive mine. Some states, like Florida, and testing sites have implemented identification requirements to combat “vaccine tourism,” where non-locals will travel to other communities to get access (BuzzFeed). But these measures impact people that actually live in these communities who just happen not to have identification.

This issue also contributed to the racial disparities of those that received PPP funding, government assistance to support small businesses through the shutdowns over the past year. Until recently, the application process required a social security number, making those that do not have one ineligible, even those who pay taxes with an individual taxpayer identification number (Los Angeles Times).

Lack of identification is a persistent issue for those that are unhoused. Many cities have enacted legislation that makes it illegal to live in public (Anti-Racism Daily). Not having identification can increase the likelihood for individuals to be arrested or fined because of this, according to the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty (NLCHP). Furthermore, access to essentials like rapid housing, temporary housing, employment, and medical care can become far more complex (Vice). Violent sweeps, performed by law enforcement as an attempt to clear unhoused people from sidewalks and parks, often result in the loss of physical identification items, like licenses and birth certificates. Replacing an identification is a difficult process, especially without the original and access to a permanent address. Efforts to increasing access to identification for unhoused communities must include protecting their valuables from the state government.


These issues don’t just create barriers to life-saving essential services. They contribute to the ostracization that many marginalized people experience when navigating our country’s social services. Having an identification is one of the most foundational aspects of belonging in a society. And in contrast, when one has to constantly prove their legitimacy without one, it can foster feelings of isolation and distrust. Changing the narrative of who "deserves" to have identification shifts how we welcome one another into our communities.

There’s some remarkable work happening to combat the identification gap across disciplines. Organizations like Mini City, based in Atlanta, and Samaritarian, based in Seattle, use smart tech to make it easy for those without identification to authenticate and apply for social services (Vice). Nonprofit organizations, like Reconciliation Services in Kansas City, host regular drives to get more people state IDs and start the necessary paperwork for other forms of identification (Kansas City Beacon). Some are also helping to cover or waive the fees for obtaining photo identification (StreetRoots). Other cities are starting, or expanding, their own local IDs initiatives for county residents, like this initiative in Broward County, FL (Miami Herald).

Hopefully, something like this is starting near you, too. It’s our collective responsibility to ensure that no members of our community are left behind.


Key Takeaways


  • 11% of U.S. citizens – or more than 21 million Americans – do not have government-issued photo identification.

  • The barriers to obtaining identification make it difficult for marginalized groups to gain access to necessary support services – all more urgently needed during the pandemic.

  • A variety of solutions have been created by nonprofit organizations, community leaders, and tech companies.


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Advocate for critical race theory education.

Yesterday, the governor of Idaho signed a bill into state law designed to prevent critical race theory from being taught in schools and universities. Specifically, the law bans discourse on the notion that any members of any race, sex, religion, ethnicity, or national origin are inferior or superior to other groups and that certain groups benefit from privileges based on society’s perception of their identity (The Guardian). A similar law was also enacted this week in Tennessee, and other states – including Texas, Missouri, Oklahoma and Florida – have proposed to do the same.

It's Friday! Welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. We briefly touched on this topic last fall, but as the conversations heat up again in schools, it's important to revisit the foundation of critical race theory. If you're reading this email, you're already familiar with the framework – we touch on many of the themes regularly. Take action to protect this necessary curriculum in schools.


This newsletter is possible because of our gracious supporters! Consider giving $7/month on 
Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. Thank you to all those that support!

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • The Department of Education has a list of proposed priorities for creating a more culturally-responsive American History and Civics Education. They are requesting public comments from the community to gauge sentiment. Take a few minutes to review the curriculum and leave a (positive) review. The majority are negative.

  • Read this introduction to critical race theory to get a comprehensive overview.

  • Research specific bills that have been proposed or passed in your state, and the best way to take action.

  • Consider: How has your education so far informed your perspective on racism and systemic oppression? If you experienced institutionalized education, what has it contributed to what you know now?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Yesterday, the governor of Idaho signed a bill into state law designed to prevent critical race theory from being taught in schools and universities. Specifically, the law bans discourse on the notion that any members of any race, sex, religion, ethnicity, or national origin are inferior or superior to other groups and that certain groups benefit from privileges based on society’s perception of their identity (The Guardian). A similar law was also enacted this week in Tennessee, and other states – including TexasMissouriOklahoma and Florida – have proposed to do the same.

This is the latest iteration of a long conservative tirade against the notion of educating on race in schools and organizations, accelerated by the Trump administration. Former President Trump wielded conservative sentiment around critical race theory to his advantage, using his platform to admonish the idea of diversity and inclusion trainings, the 1619 Project, and talking about racism in school (PBS). During its time, the Trump administration passed an executive order banning the federal government and its contractors from using curriculum that examined systemic racism, which was reversed by the Biden administration immediately after taking office (USA Today).

A common refrain against introducing critical race theory in schools is that it “indoctrinates” kids into racism. But in reality, critical race theory is a framework designed to help identify and understand how racism plays a part in our society. It helps provide insight and understanding of how racism can be studied, processed, and dismantled. It was created during the 1970s by a group of lawyers, activists, and legal scholars. Although it began as a theory for legal studies, critical race theory is widely taught and studied across disciplines, including education, sociology, and medicine (Critical Race Theory).

There are six key tenets to critical race theory:

  1. Racism is a normalized and commonplace part of society. It is not just reflected in individual actions but embedded in our cultural and political practices and systems.

  2. Consequently, whiteness is a “property” – something with tangible value – that offers white people unearned privileges and opportunities not afforded to people of color at the same level, like access to wealth, safety from law enforcement, opportunities for academic success, etc.

  3. Because of this, the notion that all are treated equally, and have the same rights and opportunities, is a myth, challenging concepts like colorblindness and meritocracy.

  4. Since racism benefits those with power and privilege, there is little incentive to solve it – unless it benefits both people of color and dominant members of society. This is also referred to as “interest convergence.”

  5. Intersectionality is critical for understanding racism. Everyone has intersecting identities based on their racial/ethnic background, socioeconomic status, gender identity, etc., which means that each person experiences racism in unique ways.

  6. The personal experiences of people of color are worthy and legitimate forms of discourse in the conversations on racism, especially when countering the default narrative.

There are several variations of critical race theory that focus on specific ethnic/racial groups, or intersectionalities within ethnic/racial groups – including critical race feminism (CRF), Latino critical race studies (LatCrit), Asian American critical race studies (AsianCrit), South Asian American critical race studies (DesiCrit), American Indian critical race studies (TribCrit), and disability critical race studies (DisCrit).

"

Our social world, with its rules, practices, and assignments of prestige and power, is not fixed; rather, we construct with it words, stories and silence. But we need not acquiesce in arrangements that are unfair and one-sided. By writing and speaking against them, we may hope to contribute to a better, fairer world.

– Critical Race Theory: The Cutting Edge (Third Edition)

If you’ve been reading this newsletter for some time, you’ll notice that we cover all of these topics regularly. Explore our archives to find many of these topics covered in previous newsletters. And if you’re interested, you can find a more comprehensive overview of critical race theory here.

When understood from this lens, it’s clear how necessary this discourse is within our schools and universities. Like any other subject, racism needs theory to help understand it in practice. And students are already learning about racism in practice, whether it’s on the syllabus or not. If they are a person of color, they are impacted by it directly. And either way, it’s unlikely they do not hear about racist incidents through the news, social media, or other aspects of their everyday lives. I think our youth are due, at minimum, a framework for contextualizing the world they live in.

This conservative attack isn’t just for the sake of education but one of many attempts to delegitimize the notion of racism and, consequently, the policies and practices to change that. We must advocate for this, not just in education, but normalized in all aspects of our society. As Justice Harry Blackmun stated, “in order to get beyond racism, we must first take account of race. There is no other way.”



Key Takeaways


  • States across the country have proposed or passed legislation to ban critical race education in schools and universities

  • Developed in the 1970s, critical race theory is a framework created by activists and scholars to understand how racism persists in the U.S.

  • This is part of a broader campaign to discredit the concept of racism and its influence in U.S.


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Honor Cinco de Mayo.

Today is Cinco de Mayo, which represents the anniversary of Mexico’s victory against the French forces of Napoleon III at the Battle of Puebla, on May 5, 1862. (Contrary to popular belief, the date is not Mexican Independence day, which is celebrated on September 16). President Benito Juárez had canceled its debts with European countries, incending France and causing them to invade. Although the Mexican army, led by General Ignacio Zaragoza, was outnumbered, they won after the day-long fight. Many of its members were Indigenous Mexicans from various backgrounds who united in solidarity against a common enemy (History).

Happy Wednesday, and welcome back! Yesterday, while writing this article, I was reminded of the definition of solidarity on the Black and Asian Feminist Solidarities' website. "Solidarity at its core is about relationships." As you read about the history and significance of May 5th, consider: what does it look like to be in relationship with this date? What does it look like to be in relationship with the strength and progress it represents? I hope you learn something new from today's newsletter!


As always, we welcome any support for our independent news. Consider giving 
$7/month on our website or Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. Thank you to all those that support!

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Donate to a mutual aid network in your community, particularly one that supports the Latinx community. Here is a list of mutual aid by state, but do your own research, too!

  • If you choose to participate in the Americanized version of the holiday, shop from Latinx-owned restaurants and businesses. Shop Latinx has a curated selection of goods.

  • Don’t practice cultural appropriation – today or any day.

  • Reflect on what solidarity means to you: How can you practice solidarity more authentically? Who in your community is modeling solidarity?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Today is Cinco de Mayo, which represents the anniversary of Mexico’s victory against the French forces of Napoleon III at the Battle of Puebla, on May 5, 1862. (Contrary to popular belief, the date is not Mexican Independence day, which is celebrated on September 16). President Benito Juárez had canceled its debts with European countries, incending France and causing them to invade. Although the Mexican army, led by General Ignacio Zaragoza, was outnumbered, they won after the day-long fight. Many of its members were Indigenous Mexicans from various backgrounds who united in solidarity against a common enemy (History).

But this wasn’t just a fight about money. Some scholars believe that the French were looking to invade Mexico and set up a base to support the Confederate South, which was in the midst of fighting the Civil War. The North had stopped exporting cotton to France during this time, forcing textile manufacturers to lay off workers. France saw an opportunity in forging a new alliance, helping the South maintain the institution of slavery in exchange for cotton (Remezcla). If Mexico had lost that battle, France could have colonized Mexico and potentially influenced the outcome of the Civil War (wbur). The French did gain control of Mexico City a year later, but by then, the North had an advantage (Remezcla).

Mexican American activists in the U.S. during that time celebrated the victory, recognizing the potential ramifications. But the holiday of Cinco de May in the U.S. didn’t go mainstream until the 1960s. Chicano civil rights activists, noting the solidarity represented in the historical event, revived the celebrations as a mark of pride and recognition of what we can achieve – together (wbur). By the 1980s, brands had co-opted the celebration to capture revenue from the growing Latinx audience historically overlooked (NYTimes). And, making the holiday mainstream offered brands – particularly alcoholic ones – to commercialize a cultural reason for everyone to drink in early May. The date is now one of the biggest days for beer sales in the U.S. each year (NPR). Meanwhile, in Mexico, observing the anniversary of the battle only happens in Puebla, where it occurred (wbur).

This date is also rife with cultural appropriation – fake sombreros and mustaches, insensitive costumes, made-up Spanish words, decorations that reflect Dia de Los Muertos, etc. Much of the practices related to Cinco de Mayo don’t truly honor Mexican culture and history. But avoiding appropriation on this date isn’t enough: today should also celebrate the importance of solidarity, and resistance, that protects our unique cultural identities.

And in these times, solidarity couldn’t be more urgent. The national debate over immigration and racist comments by former President Trump has led to hate crimes against the Latinx community increasing steadily since the 1990s, peaking in 2019 (NBC News). Latinx Americans are 3x more likely to be hospitalized because of COVID-19 than white Americans (CDC). And the number of people crossing the border from Mexico has remained at a twenty-year high over the past few months (Washington Post). U.S. authorities took 172,331 migrants into custody in March, including over 17,000 children and teens without their parents (Washington Post).

There’s nothing wrong with getting some tacos and a drink after work today – without appropriation and socially distanced, of course. But if you’re going to participate, consider that this day represents far more. To truly honor it, recognize the depth of its history, and stand in solidarity for our collective liberation.


Key Takeaways


  • Cinco de Mayo represents the anniversary of Mexico’s victory against the French forces of Napoleon III at the Battle of Puebla, on May 5, 1862.

  • The defeat of Napoleon III's troops was a strong statement against colonialism, and prevented French from being more involved in the U.S. Civil War.

  • This holiday has been commercialized and Americanized, obscuring its true historical significance.

  • Honor today by standing in solidarity and respecting Mexican and Latinx culture.


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