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Don't tokenize people of color.
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Happy Thursday,
And thank you for all the kind birthday wishes! Today's newsletter was inspired by the recent news at Bon Appétit, but also the nomination of Kamala Harris as vice-presidential candidate. We're watching the aftermath of the protests unfold as we march towards an election where racism will be centerstage. The next three months may be the most critical for dismantling white supremacy, and I'm glad we're committed to making an impact.
We have some new faces here 👋🏾 explore our website to learn more about this project, explore the archives for all 70 issues published since launch, and enroll your office or classroom with our corporate plans.
As always, your donations are greatly appreciated. You can give on our website, PayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or by subscribing for $5/mo on our Patreon. Thank you for everyone that makes this newsletter possible.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Reflect on the following questions:
What's an example of tokenization you've seen in your own community?
How may you have you tokenized someone in the past?
What may tokenization look like at your office? Your school?
GET EDUCATED
Bon Appétit magazine is experiencing an exodus of talent and staff in their video department, Test Kitchen, after accusations of tokenizing people of color. The controversy started in June when a photo of editor-in-chief Adam Rapoport in brownface surfaced online, leading to his resignation. This event sparked more extensive conversations on pay gaps between white workers and people of color at the organization, which the magazine pledged to address (NYTimes). Yet two months later, it looks like their efforts fell short. Three people of color (half of the non-white Test Kitchen staff) stepped down, and three others resigned in solidarity (NYPost). Many remaining staffers refused to appear in Test Kitchen videos until colleagues were paid fairly, and the organization has put the project on pause until September (NYPost).
To fully understand the controversy, we need to understand how tokenization works. Tokenizing is when individuals, companies, the media, and other platforms center a non-white person in a position of power to deflect calls of racism or discrimination. This is similar to “playing the friend card,” a concept we discussed in a newsletter last week. But tokenization is more commonly seen in public figures – like leaders, influencers, executives, lead characters in movies and books, etc. Tokenization is a sinister form of racism because, despite the fact that the individual is represented in a specific space, the system is usually failing them. It provides an illusion of change that’s not yet realized. These scenarios are especially easy to do in cases like Bon Appétit, where placing people of color on video visually depicts inclusivity that’s not fully realized behind the scenes.
A more general example of this is the “Black people in horror movies” trope. Often, the token Black person in a horror film was the most likely to die (TV Tropes). This came from early attempts to diversify movies by adding in a character of color, one who often wasn’t provided with character development and was easy to kill off. So despite what the film looked like, not everyone had the best chance of survival from the start.
The term was popularized in the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, and explained succinctly by Malcolm X in an interview with Louis Lomax, an African American journalist, in 1963:max
LOMAX: But we have made some gains…
MALCOLM X: What gains? All you have gotten is tokenism–one or two Negroes in a job or at a lunch counter so the rest of you will be quiet. It took the United States Army to get one Negro into the University of Mississippi; it took troops to get a few Negroes in the white schools at Little Rock and another dozen places in the South. It has been nine years since the Supreme Court decision outlawing segregated schools, yet less than ten per cent of the Negro students in the South are in integrated schools. That isn’t integration, that’s tokenism!
(via Teaching American History)
Tokenization is often a way for companies and other organizations to deflect blame or resentment. After criticism for racist hiring practices, companies may be quick to hire a DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) leader at the company to show progress. But that role alone may not be sufficient enough for change. According to the careers site Glassdoor, jobs related to diversity fell 60% between early March and early June due to coronavirus (Washington Post). Budget cuts often affect human resources departments, considering a decrease in staffing and hiring more directly impacts their workload. But, as sources argue in the article, these roles are actually incredibly important for navigating a pandemic disproportionately affecting people of color. But opportunities for these same roles spiked immediately after the protests, demonstrating a renewed urgency in the work – or at least, an urgency to look like the work is happening.
"
Companies use DEI programs for PR strategy and then slash them like they’re deadweight. Yes, some companies are facing difficult financial decisions, but *there could not be a worse time* to reduce the function that ensures your marginalized employees feel seen and heard.
Alex Lahmeyer, former Thumbtack diversity and inclusion lead, for Washington Post
And as we saw with the Bon Appétit example, oftentimes tokenized individuals are elevated as equals, but not treated as such. It’s more insidious to pretend an organization has equitable hiring practices by tokenizing people than not having them at all.
We can also further tokenize people with our words and actions. Consider how people will use the fact that “we had a Black president” as a deflection for racism persisting in America. When we do this, we bypass the harm that marginalized communities experience (more about bypassing in a previous newsletter). We can do this in more damaging ways, too. During his first presidential campaign, Joe Biden referred to Barack Obama, who was a senator at the time, as “the first mainstream African American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy” (BuzzFeed). That comment implies that African American men generally are not bright, clean, or nice-looking, which isn’t just incredibly inaccurate. It reinforces the opposite of that statement in people’s minds. And, it takes away from the inherent strengths and talents of Obama himself.
Tokenization is exacerbated when the individual has additional marginalized identities. People that identify as both non-white and LGBTQ+, for example, can be tokenized because of one identity, the other or both. Consider the harmful racist rhetoric that Kamala Harris, whose appointment as a Black, Indian, and female vice-presidential candidate has received in the past 48 hours.
As someone who’s personally been tokenized, I can speak to the burden it imposes on people in that position. I know how it feels to be propped up as an example, even when I know I’m being treated differently than my peers. It can place people of color in an uncomfortable position, perhaps finally in a role they’ve desired and pursuing something they care deeply about, but unsure if their presence is making things better or worse. I know I’ve stayed in roles hoping that I can make a difference, but realizing that I still don’t have the organizational power to create change. Tokenization often forces people’s hands, which is one of many ways white supremacy oppresses people of color.
Instead of tokenizing people, we should first focus on truly celebrating their accomplishments themselves, regardless of how they look in a world of systemic oppression. And we also must ensure that the spaces these people occupy genuinely support them. For example, instead of using the nomination of Kamala Harris for vice president as a deflection, we must acknowledge the challenges that people of color and women have faced historically to gain political leadership – you can read some history on the progress of Black leaders on Pew Research.
And when we see an example of tokenizing happening in front of us, it’s our responsibility to keep listening and learning. Ask more questions at your workplace, do research on companies on their hiring practices, and see if companies making new hires have committed beyond the press release. And if you have power and privilege, you can stand with other people of color taking a stand. Also, we don’t have to wait for an act of tokenization to start this work.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Bon Appétit Magazine is experiencing a talent exodus after paying people of color less than white video talent
Tokenization is when people of color are hired or elevated to deflect accusations of racism or discrimination
Oftentimes tokenization provides the perception of change still yet realized
We must look beyond the person and hold systems accountable
RELATED ISSUES
8/7/2020 | Don't play the friend card.
8/6/2020 | Don't do digital blackface.
8/5/2020 | Avoid spiritual bypassing.
7/9/2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.
Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Demand justice for Elijah McClain.
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Today is my 31st birthday, and I don't take a day of this short and precious life for granted. I am celebrating another year around the sun in a time of so much sorrow, knowing how deeply my community is hurting in the midst of these unprecedented times.
Today's newsletter is a reminder that this work is, quite simply, a matter of life vs. death. I can celebrate another birthday, but Elijah cannot – as so many other people we've lost to police brutality this year. It's our responsibility to use every breath we have for all those who have had their breath stolen away from them. Please take action for Elijah today. And thank you Saraya @justiceforelijahmcclain for collaborating with us on this piece.
As always, consider making a donation to this project. You can give on our website, PayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or by subscribing for $5/mo on our Patreon. Thank you for everyone that makes this newsletter possible.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Send a postcard through this Black woman-owned card company to Colorado officials demanding justice. #lettersforelijah
Call Colorado officials to demand justice – link includes phone numbers and a sample script.
Sign the petition calling for the district attorney Dave Young to resign.
View more ways to support through the @justiceforelijahmcclain website.
GET EDUCATED
Written in collaboration with activist Saraya Hamidi at @justiceforelijahmcclain. Follow them on Instagram for more ways to take action.
Yesterday, the family of Elijah McClain filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Aurora and the police officers and paramedics responsible for his death (AP News).
Elijah McClain, a 23-year-old massage therapist, was stopped by three officers on Aug. 24, 2019, who responded to a call about a suspicious person “wearing a ski mask” and “waving his arms.” The caller noted that “he looks sketchy. He might be a good person or a bad person” (NPR). Police arrived and put Elijah in a chokehold. Paramedics gave him 500 milligrams of ketamine to calm him down – despite the fact that Elijah was already handcuffed and on the ground. McClain suffered cardiac arrest and was later declared brain dead and taken off life support several days later. Elijah McClain had not committed any crime.
The lawsuit outlines how one officer jammed his knee into McClain’s arm “with the sole purpose of inflicting pain by forcefully separating Elijah’s bicep and triceps muscles.” It also outlines how two officers reported that all three of them simultaneously placed their body weight, estimated to be over 700 pounds, on McClain, who was 5’6” and weighed 140 pounds, after putting him in a chokehold. In a statement released by their attorney, the family stated that “we have filed this civil rights lawsuit to demand justice for Elijah McClain, to hold accountable the Aurora officials, police officers, and paramedics responsible for his murder, and to force the City of Aurora to change its longstanding pattern of brutal and racist policing” (AP News).
Elijah was known as "nothing but positive" by his cousin, "sweet” by his sister, and "an introvert who sought peace in his life" by his mother (Elle). He played violin at a local shelter to soothe the animals. Elijah was also anemic, and often wore layers of clothing and masks to stay warm (The Cut). Body camera footage, which wasn’t released until November, captures the entire encounter, including Elijah’s last words, copied and pasted below.
I can’t breathe. I have my ID right here. My name is Elijah McClain. That’s my house. I was just going home. I’m an introvert. I’m just different. That’s all. I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me? I don’t even kill flies! I don’t eat meat! But I don’t judge people. I don’t judge people who do eat meat. Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity, I’ll do it. You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful and I love you. Try to forgive me. I’m a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ow, that really hurt. You are all very strong. Teamwork makes the dream work. Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to do that. I just can’t breathe correctly.
You can read a detailed overview of the case via The Cut and watch the body camera footage here.
With the swell of protests after the death of George Floyd, Elijah’s case captured national attention, and thousands of people have called for justice. The office of 17th Judicial District Attorney Dave Young, which cleared the officers involved in detaining McClain of any wrongdoing, received over 10,000 emails and 1,000 voicemails in the beginning of June alone (Colorado Sentinel). A Justice for Elijah McClain petition has received over 5 million signatures (Change.org). Violin vigils honoring his life and protests demanding justice have sprung up across the country and the world.
Even so, we’re a long way from justice. All officers were briefly placed on leave, but since reinstated. Two were fired after the fact because they posed for a selfie that reenacted the chokehold for “solidarity” (CBS News). An autopsy report by the Adams County coroner said that the cause of death was “undetermined,” and criminal charges would not be filed. At the end of June, Colorado state governor Jared Polis signed an executive order for state’s attorney general, Phil Weiser, to re-examine the case, but no charges have yet to be filed (NYTimes). And although the Aurora police department has issued new rules against excessive force, the city’s public safety policy committee demands more (Colorado Sentinel).
In his last words, Elijah said that he was “different,” and that point, paired with his chronic asthma, has caught particular attention in calls for accountability. A study from 2016 shows that nearly half the people killed by police had some sort of disability (NAMI). And Black people are more likely than white people to have chronic health conditions, more likely to struggle when accessing mental health care, and less likely to receive formal diagnoses for a range of disabilities (Time). Our law enforcement is often the first response for any issue, regardless of whether there’s violence or not. But they have minimal training on de-escalation tactics. A report from the Police Executive Research Forum found that police academies spend, on average, about 58 hours on firearm training and just 8 hours on de-escalation or crisis intervention (Police Forum). Proper de-escalation might have saved Elijah, but he isn’t alone; several police brutality victims, including Sandra Bland, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, and Tanisha Anderson, all had disabilities or underlying health conditions (Huffington Post). And as Adiba Nelson, mother and disability rights and inclusion advocate, wrote for Parents Magazine, “if Elijah McClain was not safe in the hands of the police, how can my child be?” (Parents).
“I worry that as a teenager or young black man, if my son wears a hoodie someone might call the police because he looks threatening. If police approach him and he doesn’t react in a typical way, would they wrestle him to the ground? […] Already, I’ve tried to instill how he should act around police. My son doesn’t understand why anyone would be afraid of him or assume that he is a bad person because of his skin color. When I tried gently to explain, he cried”.
Jackie Spinner, associate professor at Columbia College Chicago, for The Washington Post
This August marks one year since Elijah McClain’s wrongful death at the hands of Aurora, CO officers and medics, and activists are rallying communities to advocate for justice. With your help, and bolstered by the federal civil rights lawsuit filed yesterday, we can finally see justice for Elijah and the McClain family. Please share this story and today’s action with your community.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Elijah McClain was murdered by the police in August 2019 and none of the involved officials have been charged with a crime
On Tuesday, August 11 the family of Elijah McClain filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against the city of Aurora and the police officers and paramedics responsible for his death
Despite persistent action from the community, the family is still seeking justice
A coordinated campaign for the month of August hopes that justice will finally be found
RELATED ISSUES
7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.
7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.
6/23/2020 | Defund the police – beyond the slogan.
6/20/2020 | Support reparations.
6/17/2020 | Learn about the history of lynching in America.
6/13/2020 | Center Black trans lives.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.
Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Understand the unemployment gap | COVID-19
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Happy Sunday,
Today we continue our weekly reporting on the impact of COVID-19 on communities of color. The unemployment gap is a critical economic indicator of the growing disparities between each group, and important for us to watch as we struggle to recover from this global pandemic.
Your financial contributions are greatly appreciated. These contributions are our only source of funding and make this work sustainable. Consider giving one-time on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Check-in with your neighbors to see if you can support with childcare, assisting with groceries, or running errands.
Make a donation to your local food bank or other community center offering services to meet the basic needs of those in need.
GET EDUCATED
On Saturday, Trump signed four executive orders to provide economic relief as COVID-19 persists across the nation. One of which authorizes the federal government to pay an additional $300 a week for unemployment, calling states to add $100 and ensure a $400/week extension (NPR). The $600/weekly unemployment benefits implemented in an earlier relief package expired in July.
Considering the gross disparities in the impact of COVID-19 on communities of color across the board, this may come as no surprise. But as of July 2020, the gap in U.S. Black and white unemployment rates is the widest it has been for the past five years (Reuters). The white unemployment rate is roughly at 10.1%. In contrast, the Black unemployment rate is 15.4% (Reuters). This five percentage point does include a slight rebound of employment since COVID-19 hit across both groups. Still, the rebound rate is significantly slower, indicating that Black people will be disproportionately delayed in finding roles as the economy recovers. These trends persist across other racial/ethnic groups; The unemployment rate for Hispanic workers is at 14.5%, closely tailing the unemployment rate for Black people. The unemployment rate for Asian workers hovers at 13.8% (Reuters).
The global pandemic didn’t create this disparity. Although the national unemployment rate was at a 50-year low before COVID-19 (Quartz), Black people were still twice as likely to be unemployed than their white counterparts (ProPublica). Since the Great Recession of 2010, we’ve watched the unemployment rate of Black communities recover more slowly than the unemployment rate for white workers. This lag in delivery, compounding with a more profound disparity in employment opportunities for communities of color, created the unequal foundation for the COVID-19 impact to exacerbate (ProPublica).
“The Black unemployment rate is always ridiculously high, but we don’t treat it like a crisis.”
Jessica Fulton, vice president of the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, for ProPublica
Initially, reports indicated that differences in education contributed to the disparities; new data shows that can’t be the only factor. Institutionalized racial discrimination, found in anything from how resumes are screened and interviews are conducted to mentorship, job training, and promotions opportunities, is a significant contributor (Quartz).
These trends are more evident when cross-analyzed with other data. Unemployment rates in some cities, for example, are disproportionately larger between white and Black populations than others, according to data compilated by Quartz. In Minneapolis, the center of the national protests back in May, the unemployment rate for Black people is nearly 4x the unemployment rate for white people (Quartz). The city recently declared racism as a public health emergency to allocate resources and capacity for addressing the systemic inequities pervasive through the city (CBS News).
The trends persist even in wealthier households. Although unemployment rates are lower for roles usually reserved for those with college degrees, data indicates that Black people are still more likely to be unemployed (ProPublica). Explore more data in this comprehensive visualization by ProPublica.
It’s also important to note that the unemployment rate is disproportionately affecting women. The unemployment rate for women at 10.5% is larger than the 9.4% of men (Forbes). For communities of color, this is especially damaging, considering women of color face with mounting issues like lower salaries, increased harassment and bullying, and harsher evaluations (Business Insider). Disruption to employment may make it more difficult for these women to secure these roles again or re-establish boundaries to keep themselves safer. Also, many women of color are the financial mainstays for their families. 67.5% of Black mothers and 41.4% of Latina mothers were the primary or sole breadwinners for their families, compared with 37% of white mothers (American Progress). These financial disruptions can create immediate hardship and create economic issues that can last generations.
As businesses begin to deteriorate because of this virus and more people lose their jobs, it may be wise for our government to consider an unemployment strategy that centers those most impacted to help assist the disproportionate impact of this virus on so many communities of color.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
The unemployment gap between Black and white workers is the highest it's been in the past five years
COVID-19 has exacerbated persistent trends in unemployment for communities of color
Racial discrimination, along with education and mass incarceration, are major factors in the unemployment rate
Women of color are disproportionately impacted
RELATED ISSUES
7/27/2020 | Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.
7/19/2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.
7/12/2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.
7/5/2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.
6/21/2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19
6/14/2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
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
Study Hall! Emoji blackface, the "family card," and starting conversations.
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Welcome to our weekly Study Hall where we answer questions and reflections from the previous week. Much of this week's actions were focused on personal reflection and insight (we signed a LOT of petitions the week prior, so I wanted to get us back in our journals).
We always save questions for future newsletters and hope to get to them all soon! Thank you for your thoughtful inquiries this week.
As always, your support is greatly appreciated. These contributions are our only source of funding and help us plan out for the long-term. You can give one-time on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.
2. Ask yourself two questions about one of the topics we discussed this week. Discuss these questions with a friend or colleague.
GET EDUCATED
In review: The newsletters we published this week.
8/7/2020 | Don't play the friend card.
8/6/2020 | Don't do digital blackface.
8/5/2020 | Avoid spiritual bypassing.
8/4/2020 | Protect the right to vote by mail.
8/3/2020 | Stay awake.
8/2/2020 | Protect those vulnerable to extreme heat during COVID-19.
Are emojis another form of digital blackface? I have a lighter-skinned friend who always uses darker-skinned emojis for "solidarity" but it feels off.
I say yes, and in fact, I'm working on a whole other piece on this for next week. But in short, always question what's the reason to use other skin colors. Does adopting a darker skin tone make the person feel more "sassy" or "angry?" That falls right into the same stereotypes we reviewed earlier this week. And regardless, it took until 2015 for emojis to be updated to include skin tones (Emojipedia). That was prompted by a series of requests for diversity – not for white people to adopt different skins for their thumbs up.
Some of my White relatives can be racist, but when called out on it, they say, "But my granddaughter/son-in-law/nephew, etc., is Black, so I can't be racist because they are a part of my family." How can I best communicate with my extended family about the issues in playing the 'family' card? How can I support my Black extended family members when other relatives are being racist?
The "friend card" and the "family card" work in a similar manner. We can all be racist in a racist system and society, regardless of our proximity to non-white people. I'd prompt them with the same questions mentioned in our newsletter: how do your actions affect [family member]? Does that action prevent others from harming them in the same way? What if someone you didn't know had said something like that to [family member]?
What do we do if we missed the boat? The message seems to be, "if you've ignored this part of your friendship until now, now is not the right time to stop ignoring it." Do we bring up race in an interracial relationship if we haven't discussed it yet?
This message seemed to be written by someone that identifies as white, so I'll start from that perspective. I'd encourage anyone to start this conversation in a safe and appropriate way. Know that your non-white friend has the capacity to determine what feels right for them and may not be interested in having this conversation with you. Don't center the conversation on you and your needs. Instead, focus the conversation on their perspective. I recommend reviewing the resources in these Anti-Racism Daily newsletters – and searching for other resources from anti-racism scholars and educators – before you do.
I am one of the people in the newsletter that has all-white friends. How do I diversify my friend group?
Diversifying friend groups generally is tough as we get older and we find ourselves in the same communities for an extended period of time. And I certainly think it's exacerbated with social distancing during COVID-19. But the likelihood of finding new friends starts with our capacity to understand and empathize with other people. So I'd think of your personal anti-racism journey as a step in that direction. Keep doing the work. Then, start looking at the spaces you choose to frequent and how diverse they are. Consider shifting those activities to spaces that cater to a more diverse audience. Odds are, you'll be supporting businesses that are more committed to equity and inclusion, which is part of this practice, too. Coffee shops and yoga studios are a good place to start.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Playing the friend card is referring to a friend from a marginalized community to act as justification against any racism or discrimination
Creating friends to practice performative wokeness is a deflection from the actual work needed
Interracial friendships are not nurtured in our society, and rare when analyzing the stats
Being in interracial relationships takes communication, trust and boundaries
RELATED ISSUES
8/1/2020 | Study Hall! Racist actions, doulas, and intersectional change.
7/25/2020 | Study Hall! How to be a better ally, petitions, and plastics.
7/18/2020 | Study Hall! Ebonics, capitalizations and cultural appropriation.
7/11/2020 | Study Hall! Raising multiracial children and addressing microaggressions.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.
Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Don't play the friend card.
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Happy Friday, everyone! Quick note of gratitude for all the thoughtful inquiries and feedback on the content from this week. I'm glad it's resonating with you, and I'm slowly working my way through your responses.
Tomorrow is our weekly Study Hall. I recap the week's content and answer questions from the community. Reply to this email to submit your questions! For today, we're taking a look at playing the friend card, and how it some wield it to bypass the harm they cause. Please don't message me about how you actually do have a Black friend.
Help us make this newsletter sustainable! Make a one-time contribution on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.
ps – you can also encourage your office to create a subscription for your whole team – no need to forward to everyone or post on Slack! Bring Anti-Racism Daily to Work >
TAKE ACTION
Reflect on your own friend group:
How was it formed?
What are the racial/ethnic identities that form your friend group?
How do you protect your friends from harm?
How do you participate in the system that cause your friends harm?
GET EDUCATED
A common argument in interpersonal conversation around racism is the “Black friend”. Start a conversation about race and someone might respond with something like, “I’m not racist! I have a best friend who’s black!” The trope is so common that in her popular IG live talk show on racism, Ziwe Fumudoh always asks her guests how many Black people they know. But she already knows the answer; most say “four or five,” which must be a socially acceptable number of friends to not be a racist (NYTimes). And it goes beyond “Black” and “friend.” Swap any racial identity (or marginalized community) and relationship in: “dated an Asian guy,” “transgender colleague,” etc. Don’t get me wrong; a statement could hold contextual relevance in some cases. But it’s often used as a way to shield oneself from blame or deflect responsibility from acknowledging harm.
Let’s first acknowledge that these “friends’ might not really be a friend. Sometimes the “friend” is actually a coworker seen around the office once or twice, or a high school acquaintance that somehow pops up in the newsfeed occasionally, despite no contact for years. Is there an authentic relationship, or is this a conflict avoidance technique? This idea was pressed to its extreme at the center of a recent Twitter controversy. A queer, Indigenous Arizona State University professor was a well-loved part of the science community on Twitter, often tweeting about being a part of the Hopi tribe, equity in academia for the LGBTQ+ and Indigenous community, and most recently, their battle with COVID-19. The user passed away, and hundreds of their followers shared their sympathies – until realizing that this person was an elaborate hoax (Vice). The account was revealed to be run by MeTooSTEM founder BethAnn McLaughlin, a neuroscientist who has a history of ignoring or intimidating women of color – and may have created this account to regain some credibility for past transgressions (Science).
Don’t be so quick to judge McLaughlin; inferred interracial friendships are likely more fiction than fact if you ask the data. 75% of white Americans have entirely white social networks, according to a study from 2013 (PRRI). And 92% of white Americans have a spouse or partner who is also white only (Pew Trends). Although at slightly lower rates, communities of color predominantly spend time with people of their community. And that’s partially because relatively few adults feel connected to others that don’t share their racial background (Pew Trends). There are some fascinating insights on multiracial communities, based on what race/ethnicity they identify with, in here that’s worth exploring (Pew Trends).
Also, I’d argue that if everyone did have a Black friend during these protests, they’d have a more nuanced response. Because interracial relationships – platonic or otherwise – can be fraught with tensions and demand intentional care. And if we’re all doing the work to understand them, we may know better than to deflect with a dismissive statement. Yseult Polfliet and Hannah Pechter, cofounders of The Kinswomen podcast, which covers topics on race and relationships, agree that talking about race is crucial for boundaries and trust (The Cut).
“
It’s not genuine, because you don’t want to look at the big elephant in the room — because it is a big elephant in the room. You can’t ignore it. We have these questions brought up in our conversations, where people say, ‘It’s weird. I’ve been friends with someone for years, and we’ve never talked about this.’ And it’s like, maybe you have to be the person who initiates that conversation.
Yseult Polfliet, cofounder of The Kinswomen Podcast, for The Cut
This point was emphasized in an excerpt from BIG FRIENDSHIP: How We Keep Each Other Close co-written by Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman. In both cases, you can see how damaging it can be if interracial friends aren’t talking about racism until something unavoidable happens, like a global pandemic or nationwide protests.
Studies indicate that interracial friendships decline as kids enter adolescence, which is heavily influenced by the school they go to (The Atlantic). Further research shows that some students of color may befriend white students “as they begin to internalize the higher value their teachers place on the white students,” which shifts friendships from a space of social engagement to social survival (New Republic). Teachers that emphasize the value of all students and focus on creating diverse groups for students to socialize in can help reduce this trend. But it can’t be solely up to teachers; parents, too, can encourage and foster healthy relationships (The Atlantic).
But all hope might not be lost there. While researching for the book The Company We Keep: Interracial Friendships and Romantic Relationships from Adolescence to Adulthood, Yale sociologist Grace Kao found that kids that go to a racially diverse school are more likely to befriend people of another race as an adult, even if they didn’t have interracial relationships during that time (Yale). Unfortunately, as we’ve referenced in previous newsletters on school funding, racial segregation and housing inequality create wide disparities in classrooms’ racial and socioeconomic composition (Anti-Racism Daily).
Where do we go from here?
Having an interracial friend doesn’t make anyone incapable of doing something racist. I’ve watched people I’ve once considered friends do lots of racist things, either directed to me or others, that I’ve had to address. It doesn’t mean things won’t happen again. Also, someone that we consider our friend might not feel the same way, perhaps because we’re unable to support them when it comes to race.
Let’s remember that our proximity to people of color does not make us exempt from the system that systemically oppresses them. Let’s consider that we do have an in-depth understanding of interpersonal racism and have a conscious, empathetic friendship. We’re still participating in a broader system where we can perpetuate or dismantle racism interpersonally.
For example, I’m a light-skinned Black woman with dark-skinned Black female friends. Regardless of how strong our friendship, I’m still part of a system that favors light-skinned Black women over dark-skinned Black women (The Guardian). And intentionally or otherwise, my presence and my behaviors can both perpetuate discrimination and harm. Acknowledging it with a flippant statement that "I have dark-skinned friends" minimizes the pain, and may discourage me from leveraging my own privilege and power to take action.
So instead of using the “I have a ____ friend” argument when it comes to race, spend more time honoring and reflecting on what that friendship means to you. Sometimes, listening and learning can bring more value than retort. Instead, let's commit to do our best to protect that friend, colleague, lover or loose connection through our anti-racism actions each and every day.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Playing the friend card is referring to a friend from a marginalized community to act as justification against any racism or discrimination
Creating friends to practice performative wokeness is a deflection from the actual work needed
Interracial friendships are not nurtured in our society, and rare when analyzing the stats
Being in interracial relationships takes communication, trust and boundaries
RELATED ISSUES
7/14/2020 | Embrace your race privilege.
7/10/2020 | Understand the role of cancel culture.
7/9/2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.
7/7/2020 | Honor the biracial / multiracial experience.
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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Don't do digital blackface.
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Happy Wedthursfrimonday? Hard to tell these days.
In an interview regarding his books “Home and Exile” and “Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe stated that “the whole idea of a stereotype is to simplify.” But what happens when stereotypes become imitated, replicated, scaled and normalized because of social media? Today’s newsletter analyzes our nation’s history with blackface, blackface in the digital age, and who benefits from Black culture. It’s part of our ongoing series on cultural appropriation – catch up in our archives.
Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. Please consider giving one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon. Your funds help pay staff and ensure this newsletter remains free.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Research to find a specific example of a racist stereotype shared through digital blackface – like a gif, TikTok or other form of content. Consider the following:
What harmful stereotype(s) does this content perpetuate?
What was the intention of the person who shared this content?
What is the impact of the person who shared this content?
GET EDUCATED
What's the deal with TikTok?
TikTok, a social media app with 100 million users in the U.S., has caught Trump’s ire. The app, known for highly-sharable short videos, often created based on viral themes, was created by ByteDance, a Chinese-based media company. Trump argues that the Chinese government could compel the company to share American users’ data or use the platform as a form of propaganda to worsen U.S. and China relations (Wired). Although it seems this is more a PR tactic than a national security threat, millions were outraged that they may lose their social media platform. Unsurprisingly, Instagram took this time to launch their TikTok competitor, Reels, which adds a copycat TikTok experience. This news also aligned with new criticisms of the app’s role in perpetuating digital blackface.
To understand digital blackface, we must start with understanding the history of blackface. Minstrel shows gained popularity in the 1830s in New York, where white performers with blackened faces (most used burnt cork or shoe polish) would don tattered clothing and imitate enslaved Black people. These performances characterized Black people as lazy, ignorant, superstitious, and hypersexual. They would intentionally make them hard to understand and prone to thievery or cowardice (NMAAHC). From the late 19th century and into the early 20th, these shows gained national popularity, moving with ease from stages to radio shows (NYTimes). Popular American actors like Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, and Shirley Temple brought these caricatures to the big screen. And this imagery extended beyond performances to marketing anything “from tobacco to molasses to breakfast cereal” (NYTimes).
And these weren’t merely comical performances. These shows helped to build a national consensus of the role of slavery and discrimination against Black people. These tortured depictions “embodied the assertion that blackness was grotesque in itself because it could never achieve the mythical ideal of whiteness” (NYTimes). Consider that the first popularly known blackface character was named “Jim Crow” and depicted “a clumsy, dimwitted black slave.” The name became a common slur against Black people, so it was used to refer to the anti-Black laws implemented after the Reconstruction period (History).
Also, consider that it took until 2020 for Aunt Jemima to change their branding based on these stereotypes (CNN), and Gucci thought that this turtleneck was appropriate in just 2019 (NPR). There’s a comprehensive list of public figures that have used Blackface (CNN). We are still watching blackface unfold in real-time.
Unpacking Digital Blackface
The term “digital blackface” is a bit different. Coined by Joshua Lumpkin Green in 2016, digital blackface describes how technology enables non-Black people to appropriate Black culture and adopt Black personas (Wired). This trend is particularly relevant on social media, where likes and views reign supreme, so anything goes. Blanketed by the relative comfort of anonymity, anyone can leverage Black language and culture without claims to the experiences or identities that create the community.
We’re watching this unfold on TikTok in real-time. Jaliah Harmon, a 14-year-old who loves dancing, created an intricately choreographed dance to the song “Lottery” by the Atlanta rapper K-Camp and uploaded it to Instagram. The dance, called the Renegade, quickly got to TikTok, where it went viral. But Charli D’Amelio, a white TikTok dancer with the most followers on TikTok at the time, is considered its CEO because she, like many others, copied it without crediting its source (NYTimes). Jaliah is only now seeing her due, but Charli charges an estimated $100,000 per sponsored post (Cosmopolitan), launched her own nail polish line dance and has been in a series of high profile partnerships, like dancing with Jennifer Lopez and appearing on “The Tonight Show” with Jimmy Fallon (Variety).
TikTok is designed for ideas to be shared and remixed, so what happened with Renegade isn’t surprising, but disappointing in a world that often undervalues Black women. But this same model fuels deeper harm against Black people, allowing, for example, white people to create videos lip-synching the words of Black people to exaggerate them, or imitating racial stereotypes – both of which sound more relevant to the 1830’s than the 2020s (Wired). As this comprehensive Wired article notes, TikTok users likely aren’t always doing it to be racist, but simply for the virality, clout, and followers. Nevertheless, disparaging posts on slavery, perpetuating police brutality against Black people, and other terrible stereotypes aren’t just posted, but encouraged, because of the algorithm.
:Virality often occurs through shocking behavior. Whether it's acting provocatively, bullying, or using racial slurs and stereotypes, a lot of users see that their questionable behavior gets a reaction, and that just encourages them”.
Morgan Eckroth, barista and TikTok user, in Wired
Although TikTok’s algorithm fuels this trend, digital blackface isn’t new. Vine, a similar social media platform that enabled users to create and share 10-second videos launched by Twitter, had several racist trends and challenges go viral on their platform, sparking accusations of blackface as early as 2013 (Metro). In 2016, Snapchat released a Bob Marley filter on 4/20 that literally gave users digital blackface and dreadlocks, which is both racially insensitive and minimizes the life and legacy artist (Wired). And AAVE (explained in a previous newsletter) is used so frequently across social media platforms that a TikTok user declared it simply “internet culture” (Daily Dot).
Digital Blackface and Gifs
Digital blackface manifests in other ways online. A common way is how many people use gifs of Black people and Black culture to express themselves, despite not being Black themselves. Certainly, we can all love a scene from a movie that just happens to feature a Black actor or feel that a kid’s facial expression suits how we feel right now, regardless of the kid’s race. But as Lauren Michele Jackson, the author of White Negro, explains in this brilliant Teen Vogue article, the gifs of Black people shared tend to depict overexaggerated expressions of emotions. And our society often associates Black people with being excessive. Consider the trope of the “angry Black woman,” the “angry Black man,” or the “aggressive Black boy”. These caricatures have been perpetuated in the media throughout history and used to justify condemnation, subjugation, and violence. See Serena Williams, Christian Cooper, and Michael Brown for specific examples.
“Digital blackface in GIFs helps reinforce an insidious dehumanization of Black people by adding a visual component to the concept of the single story”.
Naomi Day, Speculative fiction and Afrofuturist writer, on Medium
Beyond digital blackface, there are more common ways people can use Black culture and imagery fo their gain. They may seem innocuous but are just as harmful. Consider how, after the protests, brands started using more photos of Black people on their social media feed, despite not addressing internal culture or practices that contribute to their oppression. Although they’re not directly adopting a Black culture or persona, they are trying to align themselves with a community that they haven’t earned the right to represent
What do we do about it?
This isn’t to say that an individual sharing their favorite gif or jumping into a TikTok trend is inherently racist. It’s the system that these actions are couched in. As we’ve explained in other posts regarding cultural appropriation, Black people experience significant discrimination and harm for expressing their culture – while white people are celebrated and compensated for it. I’m not taking away your favorite gifs for the sake of doing right. It’s another opportunity to keep doing the work. As you speak in a cultural language that’s not your own, consider what it says for the people who speak that culture fluently.
And social media platforms have a responsibility to protect their users from harm. The worst part of the TikTok story is how Black creators on TikTok are regularly experiencing racism harassment and censorship on the platform, especially when speaking up against these issues (Wired). And despite their public announcements, the company still hasn’t taken sufficient action to protect and center the needs of the Black community, despite naming Black people as “the most inspiring, creative voices on our platform” (Wired). The safety and security of TikTok is in question, but not for the dangerous space it’s created for communities of color on the app. And as other companies rush to acquire or compete with TikTok, I hope they make mitigating digital blackface a priority.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Digital blackface describes how technology enables non-Black people to appropriate Black culture and adopt Black personas
Blackface has deep roots in the founding of America, and was used to normalize racist stereotypes against enslaved African people
The TikTok algorithm exacerbates digital blackface while exposing its Black community to harm
We need tech to take responsibility for digital blackface on their platforms, and hold ourselves accountable for our own actions
RELATED ISSUES
7/16/2020 | Respect AAVE.
7/14/2020 | Embrace your race privilege.
7/13/2020 | Respect the roots of Black hair.
7/10/2020 | Understand the role of cancel culture.
7/9/2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.
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
Protect the right to vote by mail.
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Alright. Buckle up because this one is a wild ride. I don’t know about you, but I hadn’t been following the USPS situation closely until researching this newsletter and wow. Wow. Let’s take a journey through history to fully understand how the struggling U.S. Postal Service and a surge of voting by mail can aggravate disenfranchisement for communities of color.
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Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Sign the change.org petition to save the USPS.
Get clear on the vote by mail rules and deadlines in your state, including any initiatives to protect the right to vote by mail.
GET EDUCATED
The Trump administration has expressed repeatedly that there is “tremendous potential” for vote by mail fraud, and Trump himself has gone as far as to suggest postponing the election (Twitter). Although experts say that voting by mail is more vulnerable than voting in person, actual fraudulent incidents are rare. Of those, they have been easily detectable – like the incident during North Carolina’s Ninth Congressional District race in 2018 (NYTimes). Any fraud with the capacity to sway the outcome of a national election would be easy to identify. Five states – Colorado, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, and Utah – already conduct elections almost entirely by mail and haven’t recorded significant fraud of note (NCSL). Nevertheless, Republicans and Democrats alike call for more accountability and scrutiny to minimize harm during this unprecedented time.
It’s more accurate to argue the “tremendous potential” for vote by mail disenfranchisement than vote by mail fraud. Take the current situation in New York. Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo encouraged voters across the state to participate in the June primaries through vote by mail, widely distributing mail-in ballots throughout New York City. But election staffs quickly became overwhelmed with 400,000 mail-in ballots, 10x the number of mailed-in ballots received in previous elections (NYTimes). Six weeks later, two congressional races remain undecided, and election officials fear that 20% of ballots for New York’s 12th Congressional District will be thrown out, disenfranchising over 100,000 voices (The Intercept). Similar issues in California earlier this year (PBS) and historically in other states raise the same concerns (The Intercept).
There are many reasons for a ballot to be thrown out during the counting period. Some are human error: incorrectly filling out forms associated with the ballot, forgetting to sign, or having a signature that doesn’t match their voter registration form. It is important to note that although user-driven, many of these errors disproportionately impact voters of color and language-minority voters (The Intercept). But the focus of today’s newsletter looks at the responsibility of the U.S. Postal Service, which is partially responsible for the issues in New York City. An essential part of mail-in voting relies on delivery dates: depending on the state, ballots can be disqualified if they’re not received by the election deadline, or at least postmarked by that date. In New York, thousands of voters didn’t receive their ballots until the day before the primary. Also, the U.S. Postal Service “had difficulty” processing ballots with their prepaid return envelope, potentially invalidating thousands more (NYTimes). In Michigan, currently preparing for its primary on August 4th, election administrators said they have “fielded complaints from voters who had not yet received their ballots” (Washington Post).
The U.S. Postal Service is having a rough 2020. In fact, it’s been having a tough go since the mid-2000s, when consumer habits and economic instability ravaged its revenue. Earnings plummeted as people shifted from mailing letters to sending texts with the rise of mobile devices, and the Great Recession of 2008 obliterated first-class mail volume – a high margin profit source (Washington Post). In 2019, the USPS delivered 31.4% less mail than the year prior. But in contrast, the number of individual mailboxes, P.O. boxes, and other “delivery points” typically grows by 1 million or more each year (Pew Research). Although shipping packages to same-day shipping-obsessed-consumers generates some revenue, the USPS is approximately $160B in debt (Washington Post).
With the situation looking dire earlier this year, the Trump administration appointed Louis DeJoy, a North Carolina businessman and major Trump donor, as the new postmaster general, who immediately created sweeping changes to make the USPS a more viable business model (NPR). These changes include “prohibiting overtime pay, shutting down sorting machines early and requiring letter carriers to leave mail behind when necessary to avoid extra trips or late delivery on routes” (Washington Post). DeJoy made it clear that “if we [USPS] cannot deliver all mail” because of staff shortages, “the mail will not go out,” causing concerns about its accountability to the upcoming election (The Hill).
It’s important to note here that the U.S. Postal Service wasn’t designed to be a thriving and flourishing for-profit business like FedEx or UPS, but a public service democratizing access to information – uniting a nation across its vast terrain (Washington Post). This model, though, was made possible by using enslaved people at its start, perpetuating a long legacy of racism and discrimination through inequitable pay and lack of job security through its history. That conversation is for another newsletter (Smithsonian Institute).
These changes went into effect mid-July, so let’s look at how these changes are unfolding. Across the U.S., mail service is slowing and inconsistent. In Overbrook, a community in West Philadelphia, mail delivery is taking weeks, forcing citizens to go without paychecks and medicine (Inquirer). Boxes pile up in local offices without the capacity to sort and deliver efficiently. Anonymous supervisors told the Inquirer that they’ve been instructed to leave mail behind and prioritize the delivery of Amazon packages instead (Inquirer). According to Niche, Overbrook’s demographics are 78% African American, which emphasizes a point made by COLORLINES earlier this year: communities of color – particularly in rural communities – are more likely to rely on services the USPS provides, like checks through the mail, money orders, medicine, and necessary resources during COVID-19 (COLORLINES). Consequently, we can expect that they can be disproportionately impacted by voter disenfranchisement as the election nears.
And these broad political and economic decisions also burden the postal workers on the ground. Over 630,000 people work at the USPS and represent a more diverse workforce than most of America. 23% of Postal Service workers are black, 11% are Hispanic, and 7% are Asian (Pew Research). These essential workers are critical to our democracy’s future but have less support than they did before the pandemic. Across Philadelphia, at least 133 Postal Service employees have tested positive for the coronavirus since March, and two employees have died (Inquirer). Cases exacerbate the short-staffed individuals, and the lack of overtime may make it impossible for anyone to deliver mail. One carrier is working 90 hours/week and still unable to finish his routes (Inquirer). Conditions worsen as postal workers face angry and frustrated customers on the ground or inside post office facilities. And working conditions are harder with rules like reducing “park points,” or places where carriers park their trucks to walk packages to nearby homes. By decreasing the number of times workers can stop and rest, they’re more likely to be on their feet and exposed to the outdoor environment (Washington Post).
The House Oversight and Reform Committee called a hearing to examine recent changes to the USPS. They’ve asked DeJoy tor his testimony on Sept. 17 to “examine operation changes to the U.S. Postal Service” and “the need for on-time mail delivery during the ongoing pandemic and upcoming election, which as you know may be held largely by mail-in ballot” (The Hill). And as 18 states hold primary elections this month, we’ll have greater insight on how drastically the USPS can affect elections this November. One thing is clear: we must protect our right to vote by mail, especially for those most marginalized, and rethink the role of the U.S. Postal Service so it can continue to serve us fairly and equitably.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
The impact of COVID-19 is encouraging more states to promote vote by mail to participate in upcoming elections
The Trump administration continues to note "tremendous potential" for vote by mail fraud, which is factually untrue
The USPS, under new leadership, is slowing mail delivery making it more difficult for communities to receive necessary mail, including vote in mail ballots
The USPS could play a role in disenfranchising thousands of voters in upcoming elections
The shifts at the USPS disproportionately impact communities of color
RELATED ISSUES
July 23, 2020 | Know our racist presidential history.
July 21, 2020 | Honor the legacy of Rep. John Lewis.
June 29, 2020 | Don't vote for Trump.
June 24, 2020 | Fight voter suppression.
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
Stay awake.
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Happy Monday,
It feels a bit silly to write today’s newsletter for you – yes, you. Because if you’re reading this, you’re still here. Maybe it’s not by choice. Maybe, like me, you’ve been marginalized by white supremacy your whole life without a say. But perhaps you’re reading this, and you have the privilege to walk away from this work. Yet you’re still here. And for that I'm grateful.
Today’s newsletter looks at white fatigue against sleep deprivation and exhaustion in the U.S. I hope it helps put fatigue into perspective and encourages all of us to fortify ourselves for the necessary work ahead.
Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. Please consider giving one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon to help us stay sustainable for the months ahead.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Plan to have a tough conversation about race with your family member, friend or co-worker this week. Choose a topic from the Anti-Racism Daily archives to kick it off.
Research the sleep disparities in your state using this interactive map.
If you identify as non-white, take time to rest today if you can.
GET EDUCATED
It’s been just over two months sincere the protests started – 2 months since the Anti-Racism Daily launched – and you may have noticed that your social media feeds, Slack channels, and conversations in the office have gone “back to normal”. Some people feel “feed fatigue,” the concept of feeling overwhelmed by the pace and quantity of content on our newsfeeds. In this context, we’re talking about the fatigue that some people experience after reading and watching videos on racism, protests, and the global pandemic months on end.
But there’s a more insidious form of fatigue that might be prompting people to leave this movement. And that’s “white fatigue,” a term that, according to Joseph E. Flynn, author of White Fatigue: Rethinking Resistance for Social Justice and professor at Northern Illinois University, is defined as the following:
"A quasi-form of white resistance in which white folks are understanding that racism is wrong, but get tired and frustrated with conversation about race because of its complexity" (Refinery 29).
We’re all going through a lot right now, and being tired of it all isn’t a crime. But white fatigue in particular usually draws people out of the necessary work, causing attention to fade, movements to dwindle, and critical conversations on racism and discrimination to fall from the public eye. As we referenced in our email last week about Breonna Taylor, what we choose to rally behind in-person and online drives organic interest, which can often encourage media to pick up stories in the news and brands to pay attention (Anti-Racism Daily). It keeps pertinent conversations present in relationships and at the workplace. And it fosters the self-inquiry and reflection that we each need individually to drive collective impact. So even if white fatigue is valid, we can’t use it as validation to leave the fight.
Especially because right now America is in a deep state of fatigue. And some people are impacted more by fatigue than others. Generally, Americans have been losing sleep. Since 2013, data has indicated that we’re getting less sleep than the year before. As of 2018, one-third of U.S. adults said they sleep less than six hours a night, which is 15% more people getting less sleep than the year before (Reuters). Another study indicates that 30% of adults have insomnia (Sleep Foundation). But this spiral isn’t proportional across race and ethnic backgrounds. The Hispanic and Black communities were most likely to indicate a shift in sleep hours. In the survey, 31% of white survey participants, 42% of Black participants, and 33% of Hispanic participants were sleeping six or fewer hours (Reuters). Asian American teens are disproportionately less likely to get sleep than their non-Asian counterparts (CDC).
These disparities in sleep show up differently in cities and counties across America. Noise pollution in lower-income urban communities is prevalent. With fewer trees and more manufacturing or major transportation nearby, these areas (referred to in yesterday’s email as heat islands) tend to carry sound – especially when paired with many people living nearby (The Conversation). Urban areas tend to have higher homelessness levels, too, which makes sleep scarce for millions of people (Bloomberg). The CDC study also shows that regions in predominantly non-white communities are more likely to experience short sleep (CDC).
Sleep deprivation is a form of systemic oppression. Exhaustion is a form of oppression forced upon African Americans since the time of slavery to dehumanize and control a group of people and maximize their productivity output (LA Times). It’s also a misconception about Black people; Thomas Jefferson, for instance, thought that “Black people simply ‘require less sleep’ than whites” (LA Times). It’s why niv Acosta and Fannie Sosa, founders of Black Power Naps, believe that rest should be a part of reparations (Vice). Sleep deprivation has been used as a control tactic in immigration detention centers (PS Mag) and prisons (Washington Post). It’s also been wielded against people of color, mainly Asian communities, through the “model minority myth.” This outdated notion dictates that one must work hard and outpace others to overcome racial barriers and be seen as “equal” by dominant culture. This pinnacle of success is the level all non-white people should aspire to reach (Time). This stereotype can encourage people of color to overwork and outperform others, which places the burden of white supremacy on the individual’s breath and body instead of the system that created it.
These historical patterns of sleep deprivation create and perpetuate harmful health conditions for communities of color. Lack of sleep can create chronic health issues that can persist for a lifetime, including (and not limited to) Type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and depression (CDC). Lack of sleep during pregnancy can cause preeclampsia and increase the risk of complications at birth (American Academy of Family Physicians). These conditions – which can even persist generationally – are partially why the CDC named sleep issues as a public health epidemic back in 2014 (Sleep Dr).
And right now, sleep issues are amplified because of COVID-19. Although some studies indicate that a decreased morning commute has helped some people get more hours of sleep (Polar), others suggest that there’s been a 20% increase in insomnia since COVID-19 began (NCBI). There might be more time to sleep, but the stress, anxiety, and worry about current events decrease the likelihood of getting a good night’s rest (Current Biology). Not only that, COVID-19 symptoms, along with its lingering effects, both often include insomnia and fatigue (Science Mag). Notice the vicious cycle. The sleep disparities people of color experience can create pre-existing conditions that exacerbate contracting and dying from COVID-19, which can cause less sleep, which in turn, can worsen pre-existing conditions – all in a stressful and challenging time.
And consider how essential workers suffer even further. Many have to work longer hours, stay away from their families to reduce the risk of infecting others, and maintain erratic schedules as the virus persists. For example, a study in California notes that Latinx workers on farms and meat processing facilities often have to sleep in barracks on-location (Democracy Now). Many of the occupations considered essential right now are already on the list for the most sleep-deprived professions (Newsweek).
So when we feel quick to reference white fatigue, let’s be sure to acknowledge who in the U.S. has the right to rest. Some people in society have more privilege to choose to feel and respond to fatigue. And some choose to bow out of work to stay comfortable with their privilege. Because it can be challenging to continually dismantle ideas and practices that once felt safe and comfortable, actively choosing discomfort and growth in its place, but it’s necessary. Communities of color don’t have the luxury to decide how to engage in white supremacy. This work is a marathon and not a sprint. This is a call to fortify yourself for the long road ahead, especially for all those that have been exhausted for generations.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
White fatigue is when white people get tired and weary from understanding racism in America
America is facing a public health epidemic due to lack of sleep
Lack of sleep disproportionately impacts communities of color, and rest has been intentionally taken away from them throughout history
Active participation means choosing discomfort over privilege and showing up for all those that don't have a choice
RELATED ISSUES
July 27, 2020 | Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.
July 19, 2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.
July 12, 2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.
July 5, 2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.
June 21, 2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19
June 14, 2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.
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
Protect those vulnerable to extreme heat during COVID-19.
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Happy Sunday!
During the hot summers growing up, my mom would sequester the whole family into the one room in the house that had an A/C. We'd hang sheets in the doorways to keep the air trapped in and play video games all day. I remember the wall of stifling air that I'd face when I'd pull back the curtain to run to the bathroom, always surprised by how hot it could get in our hometown. Now, I appreciate her ingenuity of keeping us cool.
Today's daily newsletter looks at the relationship between extreme heat and COVID-19, a new and formidable opponent in our global fight against the devastating impact of this disease.
Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. You can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon to help us stay sustainable for the months ahead.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Research to see whether your state has implemented and/or extended mandatory moratorium on utility shutoffs. If they have not, contact your state governor.
Find a local non-profit organization that offers financial assistance for paying energy bills. Share their work with your community by posting on social media.
GET EDUCATED
July was a particularly rough month for America’s battle with COVID-19. With over 150,000 reported deaths, most states are seeing either a second surge or sustained first surge since March. 42% of all known cases in the U.S. were reported in July alone, and as states grapple with the ended of increased unemployment, moratoriums on rent and utilities, and the difficult decision of back-to-school, another silent factor is driving the spread and severity of COVID-19: extreme heat (NYTimes).
It might not garner the same level of attention as other natural disasters, but extreme heat is one of the most deadly types of weather-related events in the US, killing an average of 702 people each year. The CDC reports that extreme heat kills more than hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes on average each year (excluding major natural disasters they cause). When people become overheated for extended periods of time, their bodies may lose the capacity to cool itself down. This leads to spikes in body temperature that can damage the brain and other organs (CNN).
Extreme heat is getting more extreme here on Earth. Since the Industrial Revolution nearly 200 years ago, the global average temperatures have risen by nearly 2 degrees Fahrenheit (UCSUSA). A new study on global warming indicates that, due to the reckless pace of human-caused carbon emissions, global temperatures could increase by 4.1 to 8.1 degrees Fahrenheit over the next five decades (Washington Post). And recent reports of unprecedented heat from Siberia to Antarctica (Washington Post), Britain (The Financial Times), and the Middle East (NYTimes) proves that the heat is here to stay.
This is a problem for everyone, but particularly communities of color, who are more likely to live in U.S. counties threatened by extreme heat (UCSUSA). The neighborhoods where they live are often concrete-heavy, dense urban areas with few pockets of greenery. These spaces, referred to as “heat islands” in a recent comprehensive study, can have temperatures as much as 22 degrees higher than their surroundings (Pew Trust). These spaces don’t just exacerbate heart, lung, and kidney disease – health conditions people in these communities are more likely to be afflicted with. They exacerbate the impact of air pollution, another critical topic we’ve analyzed in our COVID-19 newsletter series. And people of color have been corralled in these heat islands for generations because of historical practices of redlining, segregating non-white people into limited and inadequate spaces (Pew Trust). The elderly, already susceptible to the virus, are the most impacted by these disparities.
If Americans stay home, they might be able to beat the heat. A Citylab study from 2015 found that nearly 90 percent of American households have air conditioning of some sort (Bloomberg). These numbers drop slightly based on the age of the home itself; newer residential spaces are more likely to have central air, for example, and older buildings may have a window unit. And even for lower-income communities the number only drops to 75% of households with A/C (Bloomberg).
But lower-income communities, in particular, are struggling to make ends meet, and rising energy costs are a hefty addition to the budget. Estimates indicate that running an A/C all day can cost approximately $12/day, adding $370 to a monthly bill. I used the calculator to estimate my cooling costs for the year, including equipment, in a small space in Brooklyn, NY, and got a range of $3,600 - $5,600 (hvac.com). Millions of people are already behind on paying their power bills since COVID-19 started, so adding hundreds of dollars for lowering the temperature indoors might be impossible (NPR). And because most families are spending more time at home than they would have before COVID-19, they’re facing increased costs in power regardless if they’re running the A/C or not (NPR)
To counter this issue, many states implemented power shut-off moratoriums earlier this year – alongside eviction moratoriums and other initiatives to protect financially-strapped communities. But most of these power-shut off moratoriums were set to expire July 15 or August 1. Some states have extended, but 17 states – including Georgia, Florida, and Arizona – have no official moratorium in place at all, although some power service providers have created moratoriums of their own (NEADA). As extra unemployment benefits end, analysts fear we may be approaching a “tidal wave” of power shutoffs in the midst of this extreme heat (NPR).
So these communities would spend time elsewhere – gathering at the local library or mall, hanging with friends, or frequenting coffee shops or restaurants. In some places, these spaces are closed altogether. But most cities have tried to keep them open to offer respite from the heat. These spaces, often referred to as “cooling centers,” may be a risky place to visit. New reports indicate that airborne transmission “plays a major role” in spreading the virus. Infected droplets can take about 30 minutes to sink from the mouth of an adult of average height to the floor (NYTimes).
To counter airborne viruses, ventilation is key. But ventilation is tricky in common residential or commercial spaces focused on keeping precious cool air in. Simple A/C and HVAC units may accelerate the spread of the virus by constantly circulating the infected air around a room. Benjamin Cowling, the head of epidemiology and biostatistics at the University of Hong Kong School of Public Health, studied a case of infections at a restaurant in Guangzhou where an asymptomatic COVID-19 patient infected nine other people. The people infected were at other tables and never came into contact with the patient. But each sat in the direct line of the air conditioner, which was blowing air from one end of the restaurant to the other (The Atlantic).
Solving ventilation problems can be relatively easy – locations can upgraded filters in their HVAC systems, or use portable HEPA filters to catch airborne particles as they circulate (The Atlantic). The CDC has offered an additional list of precautions for “cooling centers” to protect others, including buying PPE for guest use, cleaning frequently, maintaining social distance, and raising awareness. And as temperatures lower across the country, it will be easier for locations to open windows to encourage fresh air. But closed and cool spaces can still be dangerous, and may themselves be impacted by the growing burdens of power costs.
Extreme heat isn’t just a public health issue. It’s a key part of the disparities that make racism a public health crisis. August tends to be a hot, if not hotter, month across the country so we can expect the burden of extreme heat and its intersection on COVID-19 to persist. We’ll see the same disparities come into play in the winter, when it’s warmth – not cooling – that’s costly and difficult to navigate with ventilation. We must rally for the people in our communities most impacted by the fluctuations in temperatures in the months ahead.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Extreme temperatures exacerbate the impact of pre-existing conditions that influence the severity of COVID-19
Communities of color are more likely to be impacted by extreme temperatures
Inadequate ventilation can increase exposure to COVID-19
Energy costs can make it more difficult for lower-income communities to stay cool
RELATED ISSUES
July 27, 2020 | Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.
July 19, 2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.
July 12, 2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.
July 5, 2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.
June 21, 2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19
June 14, 2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.
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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Study Hall! Racist actions, doulas, and intersectional change.
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Happy Saturday! It's Study Hall, our weekly recap of the content we reviewed through Q&A and additional resources shared by our community. We covered a wide range of topics, so we have a lot to dive into. Remember – you can submit a question by responding to this email for the week ahead!
You can also get weekly discussion guides for your workplace or university by subscribing to Anti-Racism Daily at Work. Quickly onboard colleagues, track their progress, and use the topics mentioned to create strategic change internally and the community around you. Learn more: antiracismdaily.com/corporate
We're posting daily recaps on Instagram @antiracismdaily. And stay tuned for more Study Hall sessions on our Patreon starting next week! Excited to keep learning with you.
This newsletter is a daily labor of love and I appreciate every contribution. You can give once on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon to help us stay sustainable for the months ahead.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.
2. Ask yourself two questions about one of the topics we discussed this week. Discuss these questions with a friend or colleague.
GET EDUCATED
Read the past week's content on the archives
June 31, 2020 | Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.
June 30, 2020 | Support Black maternal health.
June 29, 2020 | Protect public workers.
June 28, 2020 | Denounce anti-Semitism.
June 27, 2020 | Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.
June 26, 2020 | Pay attention to the Portland protests.
An Asian American friend was called a racial slur by a Black person. How should society deal with racism from other marginalized communities?
From Support Asian Americans through COVID-19 on July 27
In short – in the same way we handle racism from dominant culture. Any type of racism, regardless of the perpetrator, is harmful. And because we've all become assimilated to a society with racism at its core, it's frustrating yet unsurprising that marginalized communities would apply the same discrimination and harm against each another. We touched on this a bit in the anti-Semitism newsletter we published the day after we received this question.
Anti-racism expert Ibram X. Kendi explains this well in his book How to be an Antiracist, which is required reading for this work, in my opinion. You can get a snippet of this topic in a 2019 interview with CNN.
Katie's post referenced that she doesn't believe BIPOC people should have to constantly be compared to white people. You often use the term non-white. Why use that term if it may continue to exacerbate that issue?
From Support Asian Americans through COVID-19 on July 27
First, it's important to note that our shifting use of "BIPOC" or "non-white" or "Black and Brown" or "people of color" reflects the perspectives of our writers (both our staff and the news we're quoting and referencing). All terms aim to identify a community that is often impacted by dominant culture, which is majorly influenced by whiteness.
I personally prefer to use "non-white" in those scenarios, and since I write most frequently, you hear it most often. To me, it intentionally separates so many communities not from white people, but the whiteness that has the power of normal in our society. It does name an entire group of diverse, multi-cultural people against whiteness itself, which can absolutely be considered a form of erasure. I just hope it reminds us why we're having the conversation in the first place. But I'm going to keep learning about this; language is important and I don't want to cause further harm.
Do you have suggestions on how to validate the pain of Jewish silence and the fact that being Black is more stigmatized than being Jewish, without inadvertently feeding into anti-Semitic sentiment?
From Denounce anti-Semitism on July 28
There's no reason we can't have complex, nuanced conversations on how racism and anti-Semitism show up at the same time. If we allow the anti-Semitism in the Black community and anti-Blackness in the Jewish community to divide us, we're both allowing white supremacy to win. And the impact of white supremacy won't discriminate between the two. Both communities will suffer.
So right now, we have an incredible opportunity to unite in favor of common goals and objectives, see our similarities over our differences, and commit to the deep and necessary healing to keep moving forward, together. If part of that includes, as you're referencing, focusing on the needs of Black people right now based on current events, then that just prioritizes one action item of many to tackle on the list.
The critical work of doulas to support equitable maternal health.
From Support Black maternal health on July 30
This isn't a question, but a powerful response from Heather on how necessary doulas for the advancement of maternal care. I didn't touch on doulas in this newsletter; I tried to stay focused on the direct political changes that our government can make, and plan on focusing on doulas in another newsletter. But let's start that conversation now! I've shared Heather's thoughtful response below:
One way we can help advocate for the rights of birthing people is to make sure they all have access to a birth doula!
Doulas advocate for their clients rights, provide informational, physical & emotional and support to the birthing family. We significantly reduce the likelihood of negative outcomes for all birthing people. Sadly many women don’t even know what a doula does or the benefits. And many more can not afford one, despite the fact the most doulas are willing to work with a payment plan or sliding scale.
Currently, due to Covid, most hospitals across the US have told their clients they can only have one support person while birthing in the hospital. Of course, most people are going to choose their significant other. Myself and other doulas are working hard to pass legislation that makes doulas an essential worker, so that hospitals can not ban us from supporting our clients. I have personally witnessed via virtual care, my clients rights ignored during this time. Something I KNOW would not have happened if I were present in the room.
Actions I and other are working on so that every birthing person who wishes to have a doula can-
1. Have insurance companies 100% cover the costs. It is only in the insurance companies benefit since it significantly reduces health risks and negative outcomes.
2. Pass legislation that hospitals can never ban a birth doula from the birthing setting and is not counted as a visitor but an essential employee
I found a change.org petition advocating for doulas to be considered essential workers that you can sign here.
Do you have any advice for what people in other countries can do in situations like this? I’m Canadian and I want to help (and have donated to causes) but because a lot of petitions call for your zip code and to call your political representative in the US, I feel like I can’t be that effective. Is it better to keep sharing posts about her or to find issues like this in my own country / area instead?
From Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor on July 31
We're considering expanding the Anti-Racism Daily to other countries, as we know it's frustrating that we cover mainly U.S. based news! Thanks for your patience as we continue to plan.
Generally speaking, I recommend looking for ways to tackle the same issues in your own community – whether you're abroad or in the U.S. Breonna Taylor's story isn't unique – there are many Black women who still fight for justice. Consider who the Breonna Taylor is in your community, or more critically, who could be the Breonna Taylor in your community? What practices and policies make it easy for harm to happen on vulnerable populations like Black women where you live? And how can you take action each day to prevent it?
CLARIFICATIONS
From Support Black maternal health on July 30
My piece on Black maternal health failed to note that transmen and gender non-binary individuals are also impacted by the racial disparities of maternal care, not just cisgender Black women. Thanks for the catch, Stephanie!
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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Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.
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It's Friday and today's a great day to keep fighting for Breonna Taylor. Were you expecting a different punchline? Then maybe you’ll enjoy today's newsletter on the memeification of Breonna Taylor and what we must do as we fight for justice.
Although it's disheartening to write once again about Breonna Taylor, I also know that all of her killers are still walking free. And because of that, I must use my voice to keep advocating for her – and for all of us that have the privilege to still be here, and benefit from the changes that are coming. How do you choose to use yours?
We'd love your support to keep our reporting growing! Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Sign the Color of Change petition to demand that all police officers involved in the death of Breonna Taylor are fired.
Donate to the Louisville Community Bail Fund, and aid the protesters still rallying in Breonna's hometown.
Call Kentucky's local official and the public integrity unit of the Louisville Metro Police Department to demand the officers involved in Breonna's death are fired and charged with her killing. Go to StandWithBre.com and tap the button on your mobile phone and they will call for you!
GET EDUCATED
O Magazine is ending regular print magazine issues in December 2020 to adopt a digital-first approach (Hollywood Reporter). But for the first time in 20 years, Oprah herself isn’t on the cover. Instead, this month’s cover is dedicated to Breonna Taylor, who was murdered 140 days ago by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove after they entered her home with a no-knock warrant while she was sleeping and opened fire (The Cut). Although one of the three officers have been fired, the other two are only on administrative reassignment, and none of the officers face criminal charges (NYTimes). The magazine commissioned 24-year-old digital artist Alexis Franklin to create the cover, and she used a well-known selfie Breonna Taylor took shortly before her death (Washington Post).
You may have seen this photo on the cover because it’s been all over social media – in fact, Breonna Taylor’s name and image have been widely shared through memes, gifs, text-based posts, and more since the protests. Earlier this week, the controversial 'Women Supporting Women' Selfie Challenge dominated timelines when women encouraged others to share a selfie in black-and-white (Elle Magazine). Many people decide to use the moment instead to share photos of Breonna Taylor (The Lily). Echoes of calls for justice are heard in protests on the street, in window signs, and amplified by celebrities. Beyonce penned an open letter to the Kentucky State Attorney General (Beyonce). The WNBA dedicated its entire 2020 season to honoring Taylor and the Say Her Name movement (KPBS).
Breonna was murdered in March 2020, but her story became a key narrative in the Black Lives Matter protests in May, with specific attention towards how little press her story had received. Although Blavity and The Root, two major publications that focus on Black stories, published articles about her story in late March, mainstream news sources didn’t pick up her story until late May (used Google Search results for this one). Although the intense coverage of COVID-19 during this time likely played a factor (Courier Journal), many believe it’s our country’s longstanding tenuous relationship with Black women that minimize police brutality like this (PBS). And until we see more accountability for her death, we can expect that her story will continue to resonate with allies and activists as the anti-racism movement progresses.
But are all these memes and tributes and cover takeovers helping, or hurting? Some believe that these statements don’t do her life and legacy justice. And the statement “arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor,” a popular catchphrase, is misleading, according to film and culture pop critic Cate Young (Jezebel). How exactly is the community supposed to achieve that while they’re scrolling through Instagram? The more pertinent actions – like the ones in today’s Take Action section – are shared significantly less.
And what is the creator intending to do when posting a meme like this on social media: raise awareness about the injustice of over-policing Black women, or gain some easy likes? And the memeification of violence against Black women is perpetuating the same systems of discrediting and minimizing that pain (which we touched on briefly in yesterday’s Anti-Racism Daily).
“When she’s diluted down to a glib, cutesy meme it’s a dishonor to her. She was very much a real person, with real thoughts and dreams and dislikes. She leaves behind a world of hurting family, friends, and acquaintances”.
Christine Boyer, writer, for Jezebel
Others believe that these subliminal messaging shift perceptions and encourage action in a time where many people’s newsfeeds have gone back to normal. Allissa Richardson, a journalism professor at USC Annenberg and author, believes that it’s a powerful way Black people can trick the algorithm to hold conversations that advance critical issues that may otherwise go ignored (Washington Post). And when conversations persist, media pays attention, drawing the conversation back into the press cycle. (It has compelled me, too, to write about Breonna Taylor again for the Anti-Racism Daily. Very meta).
The power of media in this movement brings to mind the strength of Emmett Till’s mother for holding an open casket, putting her son’s mutilated body on display for the whole world to see. The photos, which were published in Jet Magazine and circulated broadly from there, forced America to confront the brutality of the racism that may have been easy to overlook (view the photo and corresponding story in Time Magazine). Unlike the memes of Breonna, these images were chosen by the family and approved to share, not user-generated memes with their own branding and hashtags. But for the time, these images achieved something similar to what we’re seeing today: it’s impossible to look away. But we shouldn’t need a meme to draw our attention back to injustices against Black women. It’s our responsibility to share these stories with respect and care, and continue the fight for justice even when we’re not reminded to while scrolling through Instagram.
Like the story of Breonna Taylor, the perpetrators of the murder of Emmett Till walk free. In fact, the Emmett Till Legacy Foundation, which was created by family members of Till and other community members, is asking the community to sign a petition to hold Carolyn Bryant Donham, the woman that falsely accused Emmett Till of a crime he did not commit, accountable. Learn more about Emmett Till and his story in our Anti-Racism Daily on lynching, and sign the petition here.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
It has been 140 days since Breonna Taylor was killed by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove
Oprah joined a long list of celebrities, activists and individuals using their platforms to call for justice
The memeification of Breonna Taylor is helping to keep Breonna’s name in the media – and perpetuate the same systems that harm Black women
We must leverage our platforms to center the needs of other with care and grace
RELATED ISSUES
June 5, 2020 | Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.
PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT
Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.
Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Support Black maternal health.
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Happy Thursday!
I have to say, the challenges I know Black women face through the pregnancy process has discouraged me from having kids of my own. I'm incredibly grateful that this work is happening in Congress. Today's newsletter only scratches the surface of the racism people of color experience related to maternal health, and as I wrote this email it morphed into three more! But I do know that if we improve Black maternal health, we'll make maternal health more accessible for everyone.
We will keep reporting on racism until it doesn't exist anymore. And we'd love your support to make that happen. Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
Sign the letter to show your support for the reproductive justice movement.
Share the resources from the Birth Justice Toolkit to raise awareness about the importance of reproductive justice.
Contact your senator and urge them to support the Black Maternal Health Momnibus using the letter found here.
GET EDUCATED
Amid the racial reckoning of 2020, leaders and allies in the reproductive justice movement are calling for action. Congresswomen Alma Adams and Lauren Underwood launched the Black Maternal Health Caucus in April 2019, which has blossomed into a comprehensive initiative for Black maternal health rights. This includes the Black Maternal Health Momnibus, a compilation of nine bills that aim to address the disparities in access and treatment for Black people. This work calls for “reproductive justice,” a term created by a group of Black women (the Women of African Descent for Reproductive Justice) gathered in 1994 to create change based on not just reproductive rights, but social justice.
Learn more about the Black Maternal Health Caucus with Rep. Lauren Underwood in this podcast with the American Hospital Association >
And this level of action is long overdue. In the United States, women are more likely to die from complications of pregnancy and birth than in any other high-resource country. Black and Indigenous women are 2x to 3x more likely than white women to die (Every Mom Counts). And although Black women make up about 13% of the female population, they account for nearly 40% of maternal deaths (NYTimes). The campaign behind Black maternal health, organized by Every Mom Counts, puts it simply: “racism, not race, is killing Black, Brown, and Indigenous people in our maternity care system” (Every Mom Counts).
This insight is not new. The gross disparity of mortality rates between white and Black communities has existed since the U.S. started collecting data in 1850 (NYTimes). Prominent sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois wrote about this in his book “The Philadelphia Negro” in 1899 and mourned the death of his baby son in “The Soul of Black Folk” a couple of years later (NYTimes). But the collision of COVID-19 and the protests exacerbated decades of searing inequalities, highlighting the limited access and poor care that Black people receive from hospitals (NYTimes).
There have also been more documented stories of Black women experiencing discrimination – and worse – through their maternal health journey. Kira Johnson went to the hospital for a routine C-section. She suffered from internal bleeding for ten hours before the medical staff at Cedars Sinai took action, and ultimately lost her life (4Kira4Moms). Serena Williams publicly shared her horrifying experience giving birth in Vogue Magazine, and Olympian Allyson Felix testified in Congress about a traumatic birthing experience of her own (Washington Post).
It’s clear, as we covered in one of our earliest newsletters, that our society has a long way to go to respect Black women. We saw that with the coverage of the death of Breonna Taylor and other cis and trans women murdered during the protests (Anti-Racism Daily), and watching that unfold with the violence against Megan Thee Stallion, a prominent Black female artist (Jezebel).
As a result, Black, Ingenious, and other cisgender, transgender and gender non-binary people of color are left unheard in the conversation on reproductive justice. A recent article in the NYTimes garnered controversy when young activists expressed how their focus on reproductive rights is different than the feminist movement of the 1970s, which centered the needs of more affluent white women. Instead, they feel more compelled to address immediate, ‘life or death” situations that endanger the rights to access and opportunity for those services (NYTimes).
“A lot of the language I heard was about protecting Roe v. Wade. It felt grounded in the ’70s feminist movement. And it felt like, I can’t focus on abortion access if my people are dying. The narrative around abortion access wasn’t made for people from the hood”.
Brea Baker, an activist and organizer in Atlanta, for the NYTimes
But here’s the thing: data suggests that the majority of maternal deaths are preventable. Expanding Medicaid coverage before delivery and post-partum can prevent two-thirds of maternal mortality (NYTimes). Data from the CDC shows that this coverage is critical, particularly after childbirth. Lower-income mothers are eligible for Medicaid, which supports 40% of all pregnancies in the U.S. Still, coverage expires shortly after their child is born – although the coverage varies widely by state. Women of color are more likely than white women to be covered by Medicaid, so this disparity contributes to the high mortality rates for Black women (KFF). Studies prove that consistent support throughout the pregnancy decrease mortality rates and increase the health of mother and child (NYTimes).
Increasing health insurance coverage is part of the movement (and is one of the nine bills included in the Momnibus). But so is addressing the broader, systemic aspects of racism that affect Black maternal health long before someone decides to have a child. Everything from the environment to the stress of racial microaggressions, housing insecurity, unequal pay, access to transportation and healthy food, and many other factors influence one’s opportunity to have a healthy pregnancy and birth.
So as we do this work, we must remember that reproductive justice extends beyond the hospital. Reproductive justice is means solving environmental racism (New Security Beat) and dismantling the harmful practices at immigration detention, including the forced separation of families and barring access to necessary medical support (American Progress). It means abolishing the over-policing of Black, Indigenous, and people of color (Every Mother Counts). And most importantly, it means listening to Black women and centering their needs, especially when transforming maternal care.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Congresswomen are passing a series of bills to support Black mental health, supported by dozens of leaders, allies, and activists in the reproductive justice movement
Black women are disproportionately more likely to experience poor maternal health
Although lack of coverage plays a major role, the systemic impact of racism – from treatment at hospitals, to police brutality, unsafe environments and more – affects Black maternal health
We need to listen to Black women and center their needs, in this movement and all others
RELATED ISSUES
June 14, 2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.
July 12, 2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.
June 5, 2020 | Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.
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
Protect your community from the harm of gentrification.
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Today marks the start of Going Home, a three-part series that analyzes the systemic racism that influences the cities and communities that we call home. Today outlines the impact of gentrification on lower-income communities and communities of color.
Because of the web of practices and policies that enforce systemic racism, we’ll be referencing and expanding upon topics we’ve already discussed. We’ll link to specific articles in our archives frequently. Know that this is a resource for you – please search for your question there before reaching out! I added a search bar. We're on Issue #47, so there's lots to read!
We're seeking submissions from readers on several topics – review and respond here. And if you haven't already, consider supporting this work with a one-time or monthly contribution. You can give via our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or give $5/month on Patreon.
Nicole
TAKE ACTION
If you live in a gentrified / gentrifying community:
1. Find a local organization near you advocating for housing justice and take action by signing up to volunteer, donate, or support an event.
2. Review these maps of displacement of Black populations in major cities across the U.S.
GET EDUCATED
What's Gentrification?
The term “gentrification” was first coined in the 1960s by British sociologist Ruth Glass to describe the displacement of the working-class residents of London neighborhoods by middle-class newcomers (NCRC).
People tend to center gentrification as an interpersonal issue, focusing on how white millennials with higher income and education levels tend to move to “edgier,” and often non-white, neighborhoods for cheaper rent and more culture. But it’s more systemic than that (and yes, non-white people can contribute to gentrification). Gentrification is market-driven by real estate developers and businesses that follow economic opportunities and encourage wealthier communities to move (NCRC). It’s also fueled politically; realizing the economic benefit of gentrification, state, and local governments shifted their investments to follow suit – moving funds away from public housing and into tax credits and revitalization to make these areas more attractive (Curbed). Altogether, gentrification is a confluence of various factors, which leads to the same result: neighborhoods experience a net loss of low-income residents, housing costs rise, and overall, non-white residents are replaced by higher-income white gentrifiers (NCRC).
It’s important to remember that gentrification is profit-driven, not community-driven. Although many may cite the benefits of concentrated investment in redeveloping urban communities, we have to remember that those benefits aren’t equally distributed. And the most marginalized, vulnerable communities often pay the price.
How Gentrification Fuels Displacement
A major component of that is displacement, or, how people are forced out of neighborhoods, because of the impact of gentrification. As mentioned earlier, some of this displacement is a natural response to rising living costs as neighborhoods transform. And some people, of course, choose to stay – despite the difficulties. But a darker, more violent side of displacement has been reported for decades in gentrifying cities across America. Incentivized by the new financial opportunities, landlords have done whatever it takes to get tenants out of their buildings, from threatening them, intentionally creating unsafe living conditions, and even committing arson.
Consider the Hoboken arson wave. Back in the 1960s, the city of Hoboken, NJ was a small and poor community. With just 45,000 residents, Hoboken had the second-highest rate of welfare recipients in the state and a 12% unemployment rate. As New York City swiftly gentrified in the 1970s – fueled by the growth of the financial sector on Wall Street – the close proximity of Hoboken attracted these Ivy League graduate, wealthy young professionals (Washington Post).
Between 1978 and 1983, nearly 500 fires ripped through tenements and rooming houses throughout the city. The blazes killed 55 people and displaced nearly 8,000 people, the majority of them identifying as Puerto Rican. Most never returned to the city (Journal of American History). Nearly every fire, investigators determined, had been the result of arson, but no one was charged. It was difficult to determine that a landlord was guilty of conspiracy to start a fire in their own building without proof, and at the time, the evidence of economic gain wasn’t enough (Washington Post).
“In 1980, Olga Ramos, who owned a tenement at 12th and Washington streets, asked the city’s rent-control board for a $50-per-month rent increase, roughly four times the allowed annual cap. After Ramos’s request was denied, she told tenants that she “she would get them out, even if she had to burn down the building.” In the predawn hours of Oct. 24, 1981, a fire swept through the property. Eleven people, including all the members of one family, were killed” (Washington Post).
Unsurprisingly, this story isn’t unique to Hoboken. Intentional fires were documented throughout Boston’s gentrifying Back Bay neighborhood, downtown Indianapolis, and Chicago during the same time period, each responding to each city’s gentrification (Process History). And a recent spate of arson in the Mission District of San Francisco re-ignited this conversation (GQ) although motivations seem unclear (SFist). Similar stories of landlord sabotage emerged from Brooklyn in the mid-2010s (Gothamist).
Impact of Gentrification
Regardless of how or why, displacement forces lower-income families to move, either further to the fringes of their existing community, or to another community that is worse off, which exacerbates the burdens of poverty that these families are already experiencing. You can read two studies that analyze these trends in Philadephia via U.S. Housing and Urban Development and Science Direct. The individuals impacted experience the stress and anxiety of relocation, the loss of existing community support systems, and are often burdened with longer commutes – or changing jobs altogether (CJJC). Moving constantly often negatively impacts a lower-income family’s ability to accumulate wealth (American Progress). And systemically, displacement fuels racial and economic segregation that creates increased health risks, disparities in educational funding and opportunities, and other inequalities. Read more about inequities of public school funding in an earlier Anti-Racism Daily newsletter.
Criminalization often increases in gentrifying neighborhoods, as perceptions of what safety and public order change with the new residents. Theories believe that activity that was previously considered normal becomes suspicious, and newcomers—many of whom are white—are more inclined to get law enforcement involved (The Atlantic). This, along with the typical increase of bars and nightlife in gentrifying neighborhoods often leads to more police interactions with the community, and increases the likelihood of a negative interaction between law enforcement and people of color. Beyond that, gentrifying neighborhoods leads to gentrified criminal justice systems, which can accelerate more white people in leadership as, for example, cops or jurors (The Atlantic). Related: Read how 311 calls define gentrifying neighborhoods (NYMag).
Lawyers representing Breonna Taylor's family cite this type of criminalization as why police officers broke down her door executing a nighttime, no-knock warrant, and shot her 8 times. According to the lawsuit, police were using information about drug activity to vacate homes on Elliott Avenue for a "high dollar" real estate development, including new homes, a café, and an amphitheater (CNN). A "primary roadblock" to this project was the home of an ex-boyfriend of Breonna Taylor, who was allegedly linked to criminal activity. The home on Elliott Avenue was about 10 miles away from Taylor's house, but police raided it anyway, allegedly encouraged to speed things along and help get the project completed to fruition (Blavity).
A spokesperson for Louisville Mayor Greg Fischer refuted the allegations.
“Fifty years from now, I think there's a strong and frightening possibility that after long waves of investment and disinvestment, you'll have large swaths of the city where the rich are hunkered down, and large parts of the map where poor people can't afford to live and nobody else wants to live there”.
Sharon Zukin, author of Naked City and professor of sociology at Brooklyn College and the CUNY Graduate Center, for Curbed
Our Responsibility
The transformation of urban spaces is inevitable, and many communities are eager to redevelop their community to create more health and economic opportunity. But gentrification doesn’t have to be this way. We must adopt new models that center those most vulnerable when considering redeveloping an existing community. For starters, communities need to center the voices of the existing population to create more participatory policies, advocate for their needs against landlords, and have them as part of the design process (CJJC).
And in some cases, gentrification has been found to actually benefit the existing community – but many of those individuals are already homeowners, a path that hasn’t equitably been provided to residents in urban communities for generations (we’ll talk about this topic in full at another time, but you can get started with this article from American Progress). So states and governments can offer property tax caps or breaks for existing long-term residents (referred to as “homestead exemptions”) so they can keep their own, or provide renters with the opportunity and financing to purchase their units. Similar initiatives can be extended to local businesses to ensure they can survive, perhaps even thrive, in a new environment (Washington Post).
The impact of COVID-19 will have interesting implications on real estate development, particularly in once gentrifying neighborhoods (NYTimes). Now more than ever, if you live in a gentrifying community, and especially if you identify as white and have the power and privilege, it’s critical that you get involved. Throughout history, community organizers have rallied for their wellbeing through protests and petitions – consider how Amazon canceled its plans for an NYC headquarters after pushback from the community (The Verge).
We need to recognize how our own implicit biases may contribute to how gentrification is so damaging to communities of color, and, if you're living in a gentrifying neighborhood, you can absolutely ensure that we're uplifting and respecting the local community and its businesses as much as possible. But, as Colin Kinniburgh in this piece for The New Republic says succinctly, "if conscious policy decisions got us into this mess, then conscious policy decisions can get us out". Do your part in ensuring your city represents everyone in your community.
KEY TAKEAWAYS
Gentrification is driven by market, political and social opportunities discovered in lower-income communities
Although gentrification can provide positive benefits to communities, those benefits are not equally distributed, and lower-income communities of color often experience harm
Gentrification can contribute to displacement, which disempowers lower-income communities
It is up to us to rally at all levels to create more equitable community redevelopment
Related Issues
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