Honor the legacy of Rep. John Lewis.

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The title of today's newsletter should say "honor the legacy of Rep. John Lewis, and C.T. Vivian, and the civil rights leaders of generations past and present that, among so much more, advocated for all voices to be heard at the polls". But this email analyzes specifically how we can respond to the outpouring of love and support for one person with actions that center the perspectives and legacy of many.

You can now update your profile to specify topics most interesting to you, like politics, education, pop culture, or relationships.

And donations are always welcomed to help keep this going. Thanks to the support of the community, we've hired a proofreader and can now hire more writers to offer more diverse perspectives – all while keeping this free. You can donate on our website, through PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, become a monthly contributor on Patreon.

– Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Contact your state senator to pass the Voting Rights Advancement Act (you can text "Senate" to 50409 to send a message directly from your phone).

2. Sign the petition to rename the Edmund Pettis Bridge.

3. Find the closest landmark (street, highway, bridge, etc) to your home and review:

What is the landmark named after?
What story does it say about the community you're a part of?
Which voices does it elevate? Which voices may be minimized in the process?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

On Friday, July 17, 2020, prominent civil rights activist and politician Rep. John Lewis died after a battle with cancer. Read more about his life at CBS News, tributes from his sister and dear friend / civil rights fellow at Alabama News and NYTimes, respectively, and tribute from President Barack Obama).

His death, along with protests over the two months, re-ignited conversations about renaming the bridge where one of the most prominent civil rights events happened. (Although the petition mentioned in today’s action was created months ago, it’s important to note that people have been advocating for change for years, including another Change.org petition created by a student-led organization that received nearly 200,000 signatures over five years ago).

On Sunday March 7, 1965, hundreds of protestors, led by Lewis and Reverend Hosea Williams, participated in a nonviolent civil rights march through Selma, but were met with violence from state troopers who assailed them with tear gas and clubs when they stopped to pray. The photos of the protestors being beaten by police, including Lewis, who suffered from a fractured skull among other injuries, were circulated widely in the days and weeks following, prompting national outcry and more demonstrations. This monumental day, referred to as "Bloody Sunday," accelerated the passing of the Voting Rights Act in August that year (Politico).

But the bridge where the incident occurred, the Edmund Pettus Bridge, is named after a decorated Confederate general and a leader in the Alabama Ku Klux Klan (Smithsonian Magazine). His family, who ran a plantation and enslaved Black people, profited greatly from slavery. But his views on slavery and the Confederacy were rooted in white supremacy. As he gained recognition, first as a general in the war, then as a chairman of the state delegation to the Democratic National Convention and Grand Dragon of the KKK, Pettus was considered a “living testament to the power of whites to sculpt a society modeled after slave society” says University of Alabama history professor John Giggie (Smithsonian Magazine).

Pettus died in 1907, but the bridge wasn’t erected and named until 33 years later (remember our previous newsletter on how many Confederate symbols were erected long after the end of the Confederacy). Ironically, the bridge at the time was celebrated as “the answer to ‘The March of Progress,’ a reference to The Road to Homo Sapiens image that simplifies the evolution of man (Smithsonian Magazine). I doubt that anyone at that time expected the bridge to represent an entirely different type of march towards justice and equity for the people systemically oppressed by white supremacy.

“If the bridge is being so heavily identified with the black freedom struggle, we should be able to appreciate how much of an act of reclamation this is. People need to know that”.

Jelani Cobb, American writer, author and educator, for Smithsonian Magazine

Although the petition for the rename is gathering national attention, local leaders aren’t in agreement. Some people feel the name needs to stay – whether to encourage visitors to continue learning the area’s deep history, or simply because the bridge’s name has transcended the man it shares the name with (NYTimes).

“The name Edmund Pettus no longer is about Edmund Pettus from the Civil War, from the Confederacy. The Edmund Pettus Bridge is now a staple and symbol of civil rights and voting equity, as well as voting rights. It’s a symbol of hope, of freedom. And that’s been a name that has passed through generations”.
Collins Pettaway III, a political communications specialist and Selma native, for the NYTimes

Others advocate for renaming the bridge, but not after the late Rep. John Lewis. Some feel that this action would minimize the impact of local civil rights activists that were critical to the movement. Some call for the bridge to honor leaders like Amelia Boynton Robinson, a prominent civil rights activist who was also on the bridge during ‘Bloody Sunday,’ or Jimmie Lee Jackson, whose brutal death during a peaceful voting rights march in February 1965 sparked the marches that defined the movement (Alabama News). Rep. Prince Chestnut notes that he hasn’t spoken with a single local survivor of the attack who supports renaming the bridge for Lewis, but is in favor of “Bloody Sunday Bridge” or “Historic Selma Bridge” (Associated Press). A local group was organized to make sure the residents of Selma are heard.

A more fitting way for us to take action in honor of Rep. John Lewis is to protect the voting rights that were established in the Voting Rights Act of 1965 but reversed in the June 2013 ruling of Shelby County v. Holder. Since then, 24 states have implemented new restrictions on voting that make it difficult for many, particularly marginalized communities, from exercising their right to vote. Although the Voting Rights Advancement Act was passed by the House in December 2019 to restore more equitable practices, the bill is still stalled in the Senate. We’ve discussed this issue in full in our June 24th issue of the Anti-Racism Daily – please read to gather more perspective of this issue.

Today’s action includes signing the petition because we believe it may encourage whatever change the local community decides. But regardless of whether the bridge is renamed, and what it is ultimately called, that action is only part of how we can honor the legacy of the late Rep. John Lewis and the other civil rights activists that risked their lives that day. Our right to vote is still tenuous, and access to the ballot this November is critical for civil rights. Regardless of its name, let’s ensure the bridge is symbolic of the change we’re committed to protecting for generations to come.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The bridge that acted as the stage for "Bloody Sunday" is named after a Confederate general and KKK leader
Although national attention calls for the bridge to be renamed to honor the late Rep. John Lewis, local leaders say otherwise
Changing the name is part of a larger initiative to take down Confederacy statues and symbols
We must protect the voting rights that Lewis and other civil rights activists fought for decades ago
The Voting Rights Advancement Act, which aims to restore voting rights lost in 2013, is still stalled in Senate

Related Issues

June 29, 2020 | Don't vote for Trump.

June 25, 2020 | F ight voter suppression.

June 18, 2020 | Take down Confederate symbols.

June 17, 2020 | Learn about the history of lynching in America.

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

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

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

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TAKE ACTION

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

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

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

What's Gentrification?

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

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

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

How Gentrification Fuels Displacement

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

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

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

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

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

Impact of Gentrification

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

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

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

A spokesperson for Louisville Mayor Greg Fischer refuted the allegations.

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

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

Our Responsibility

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Gentrification is driven by market, political and social opportunities discovered in lower-income communities
Although gentrification can provide positive benefits to communities, those benefits are not equally distributed, and lower-income communities of color often experience harm
Gentrification can contribute to displacement, which disempowers lower-income communities
It is up to us to rally at all levels to create more equitable community redevelopment

July 8 | Investigate school district funding disparities.

July 2 | Remove police from our public schools.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/19/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/19/20

Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.

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Happy Sunday, and welcome to another conversation on race and COVID-19. This week we look at how representation internally can influence how companies respond to external challenges.

Two weeks ago, we highlighted the impact of COVID-19 on the Navajo nation and linked to a mutual aid fundraiser to support in the Bodaway / Gap area. Within 48 hours of that email, the fundraiser raised $15,000 thanks to 462 donors, helping the community reach its initial goal! Thank you to all that support – and remember, your contributions to anti-racism efforts may feel small, but ladder up to comprehensive change when we all do it together.

We're looking for voices interested in supporting upcoming stories: racism against Asian Americans during COVID-19, racism on college campuses, and perspectives from those that identify as white-passing and/or mixed race. Share your story on our submissions page.

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

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TAKE ACTION

1. Explore the racial disparities of COVID-19 using the data from the NYTimes. U.S. residents only.

2. Reflect on your workplace and consider the following:
How would your work change if you had a more diverse staff?
What voices are missing from the team you're a part of?
What implicit biases might you harbor in your work? How would representation on your team help to counter them?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

We've already discussed how few insights on the racial disparities of COVID-19 prevented local government officials and communities from taking equitable action to protect people of color. But the conversation on representation by the CDC is also happening internally at their offices. Last week, over 1,200 employees at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention signed a letter calling for the federal agency to address "ongoing and recurring acts of racism and discrimination" (NPR).

The letter outlines how employees perceive the CDC's lackluster efforts to hire, retain, and elevate Black and other people of color at the organization. At the time, Black employees represent only 10% of senior leadership. Hundreds of Equal Employment Opportunity complaints have been filed by Black employees over the years, many are still unresolved, and other qualitative stories demonstrate an "old boy/girl network" of racial microaggressions and discouraging Black staff to move up the ranks (NPR).

Demands for action within major companies are happening everywhere these days, spurred by the momentum of the protests. And the conversations are trending in the fields of science and research. The #BlackintheIvory hashtag on Twitter, sparked by Shardé Davis and Joy Melody Woods, documents the experiences of Black people being discriminated against in academia (Twitter). By early June, more than 5,750 accounts on Twitter had used the hashtag to discuss their experiences working in the ‘ivory tower,' a metaphor used to describe academia’s disproportionately white elite institutions. Others were sparked to #Strike4BlackLives and #ShutDownSTEM on June 10th by taking a day off to honor the contributions Black academics (Nature).

These actions are important as we analyze the role major institutions play in upholding systemic racism, the same inquiry that prompted our Sunday series on COVID-19 (so meta). As we watch our country struggle with another wave of COVID-19, many officials are quick to blame the actions of individuals. And certainly, we need to hold all of us more accountable for wearing masks and practicing safe social distancing habits. But the narrow focus on people may distract from the institutional harm that perpetuates the disproportionate impact of COVID-19, articulated brilliantly over at The Verge.

But the calls for equity at the CDC are particularly timely because of its influence on the narrative of the disproportionate impact of COVID-19. The CDC was slow to capture and report data on COVID-19 across racial groups. Congress required the organization to send its first report on the subject in May, but it was only four pages long, much of it copied and pasted from existing resources on the CDC website (read the full criticism from U.S. Senator Patty Murray). A follow-up report from June was also considered woefully inadequate for the issues at hand (NPR).

Two weeks ago, conversations about the racial disparities of COVID-19 surged again when the NYTimes published the most comprehensive set of federal data on the pandemic. These insights, which represent data from 1.5 million COVID-19 patients, paint a more dire picture than we knew previously: that Latino and African American residents of the United States are 3x as likely to become infected as their white neighbors, and nearly twice as likely to die (NYTimes). It offers breakdowns in cities and states, urban v. rural living, and other identifying data to further illustrate disparities locally. It's important to note that this NYTimes report does not cover conversations on all racial identities equitably.

It would be one thing if the CDC published this data, but that's not the case. In fact, the NYTimes sued the CDC to release this data (NYTimes). Specifically, the NYTimes filed a Freedom of Information Act, or FOIA lawsuit, a complicated legal process of going to court to challenge the government’s refusal to release materials that the public should see. (You can read more about the process on the NYTimes, and the history of the FOIA law itself on Yale Law).

It's unclear to me why this data, which only represents cases through the end of May, wasn't released in full sooner. But even the data set itself is incomplete; hundreds of thousands of cases – 48% of cases and 9% of deaths – are still missing racial, ethnic, and geographical details (NYTimes). Although this data can be used to more accurately inform local leaders and guide a more equitable form of response, it's still missing more accuracy that can help prepare us as we descend into a second wave of outbreaks.

The authors of the CDC letter put it simply: the lack of acknowledgment about the racial disparities internally at the CDC affect how the agency has responded to health issues externally. By stifling voices of Black leaders, it's minimized their calls to address racism as a public health crisis. And by failing to hire diverse staff, it misses the perspectives they can bring on health crises in their own communities (NPR). It's a pressing and urgent example of how important it is for institutions and workplaces – whether in health, science, academic, journalism, or elsewhere – to truly reflect the diversity of the communities they aim to serve.

“Failing to address racism as a fundamental cause of health disparities is a key reason why we have witnessed little progress in reducing many of these disparities in the United States over the past 50 years”.

CDC Employee Letter to Address Workplace Racism and Discrimination, via NPR

The letter, which you can read in full here, calls for the CDC to make sweeping changes internally, including actions like diversifying senior leadership, addressing racism in the CDC's culture, expand internship and fellowship opportunities to students at historically Black colleges and universities, and adopt mandatory implicit bias training. In addition, it urges the CDC to publicly declare racism as a public health crisis in the U.S., a stance that dozens of cities and at least three states (Michigan, Ohio, and Wisconsin) have taken to fuel political and social changes to close the wellbeing gap (Pew Trust).

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The CDC has been challenged for how it's reported on the racial disparities of COVID-19
The CDC has also been challenged for racial aggressions and discrimination internally in a open letter signed by over 1,200 employees
The NYTimes sued the CDC to release a comprehensive dataset on the racial disparities of COVID-19
Lack of representation internally can affect how institutions operate externally

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/18/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/18/20

Study Hall! Ebonics, capitalizations and cultural appropriation.

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Happy Saturday!

Here's a roundup of questions and insights from the past week. I'm calling these Study Hall now! We introduced some new topics this week in our newsletter series to act as a foundation for more nuanced, thoughtful conversations moving forward. Excited to continue to dive into this work with more perspectives as we grow.

If you haven't already, consider supporting this work with a one-time or monthly contribution. You can give via PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or give $5/month on Patreon.

We're also posting sharing assets on Instagram @antiracismdaily.

Nicole

ps – many of send a note skeptical that we will receive it. But we do! We recently implemented something on our Mailchimp account called Conversations, which sends your responses to an inbox on Mailchimp instead of my personal email inbox. It makes it easier for our growing team to organize responses, and for contributors to log in and respond to you directly. It might look like you're sending your response to a random string of text, but we are receiving them. So don't worry!

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TAKE ACTION

1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our users and by our team in the responses below.

2. Ask yourself two questions about one of the topics we discussed this week. Discuss these questions with a friend or colleague.

GET EDUCATED

ICYMI: Last week's Newsletters

Friday July 17, 2020: Analyze representation in media.

Thursday, July 16, 2020: Respect AAVE.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020: End racial bias in school discipline.

Tuesday, July 14, 2020: Embrace your race privilege.

Monday, July 13, 2020: Respect the roots of Black hair.

Sunday, July 12, 2020: Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.

Questions from the Community

What about the term Ebonics? How is that similar / different to AAVE?
In response to Respect AAVE from Thursday, July 16.

The word Ebonics and AAVE are essentially referring to the same language. Ebonics, a blend of "ebony" and "phonics" was coined in the 1970s and popularized by African American psychologist Robert L. Williams (Hamilton College). Although the term itself isn't a slur, the word Ebonics is often used that way. I noticed that AAVE was used more frequently in the resources I gathered, so stuck with one term in the newsletter for the sake of clarity.

Aren't there other forms of English that we discriminate against, like "country twang" or "Southern accents"? Why are we only making a big deal about AAVE?
In response to Respect AAVE from Thursday, July 16.

Yes! There are other accents and dialects that people discriminate against all the time! And it's equally unfair that we do that. When we talk about AAVE specifically, we focus on the discrimination that contributes towards a larger, comprehensive system of racism against Black people. But this insight isn't intended to detract from harm that may happen when we judge how anyone speaks, only illuminate one specific instance.

This type of questioning can be an honest, thoughtful reflection. But often, this type of criticism is a common argument against anti-racism conversations. And, to the reader that submitted this, I know you were challenged like this when you shared this newsletter with your friend. I group these into the "all lives matter" arguments – the argument that if everyone is somehow impacted, then there can't be a specific issue on one group of people. Trump recently said this himself about police shootings (LA Times).

If all people can be harmed by discriminatory practices, or harmful systems, shouldn't we all be trying to change them? Yes, many people can be judged unfairly because of how they speak. And it's a major barrier for Black people. So how do we adopt practices that prevent that from happening to anyone? Yes, white people get killed by cops, too. And Black men are 2.5x more likely to be than white people. So what policies can we implement to ensure all people don't lose their lives?

What people often forget is that when we center those most vulnerable, or most marginalized, in policies and practices, we tend to create more equitable spaces that positively impact the lives of everyone.

Shouldn't we all agree on one common language that's taught at schools and used in workplaces? Is it not acceptable to expect coworkers to use SAE in a professional setting? What’s the appropriate way to make space for AAVE being the mother tongue of Black coworkers while having SAE be the default language at work?
In response to Respect AAVE from Thursday, July 16.

Personally, I challenge the idea that there has to be one common language that we embrace, and would prefer to see our schools teach several types of English. What notions have we been taught about dominant culture that define the idea that there's only one "professional" language appropriate for schools and the workplace? How could embracing multiple forms of language improve workplace culture? Encourage students to feel more comfortable learning?

What's the reason against using an uppercase W when referring to white?
In response to Embrace your race privilege from Tuesday, July 14.

A couple people this week asked about capitalizations, which we covered in an earlier newsletter on June 25 (read Capitalize the B in Black and I in Indigenous here). The newsletter offers various opinions on the subject, and most major publications are using the lowercase w for white, likely because of the points in this paragraph (an excerpt from the newsletter):

The need to add respect and understanding to the Black community is also in response to whiteness. I mentioned above that acknowledging Black and Indigenous as a community helps to "articulate the common challenges," and these challenges are an effect of being marginalized and exploited by dominant culture (more on that here). Some use this point to argue against white being capitalized, because white people already have enough power and don't need further acknowledgement. In these cases, some writers also note that white supremacists often capitalize white to demonstrate that they should remain in power. I paraphrased a detailed perspective you can read here >

We follow this approach in our editorial guidelines.

Where is the line with cultural appropriation? Can I wear Dutch braids, that might look similar to other forms of braids worn by Black people but are actually from my European ancestors? Can I wear a kimono to a Japanese celebration where the attire is appropriate? Can POC wear lederhosen to Ocktoberfest? What about the Native American earrings I bought in New Mexico to support local businesses?
In response to Respect the roots of Black hair from Monday, July 13

The voices here at Anti-Racism Daily cannot possibly speak on behalf of everybody on the appropriate way to culturally appreciate all cultures, backgrounds, and heritages. I encourage us to think beyond the binary when it comes to anti-racism work. There are certainly clear and deliberate actions we can take against more blatant forms of racism. But the more nuanced and subtle ways that we perpetuate systemic oppression have more nuanced and subtle responses, too.

Instead of seeking a stamp of approval*, ask yourself these questions instead. Reflect on how your participation in culture is appreciating it, or appropriating it. To which extent are you minimizing the voice and perspective of other people in your participation? Are you mocking it or degrading it? Are you using the culture of someone else to make yourself seem cooler, edgier, more "exotic"? How did you come across the items you're wearing? Who profited off of what you bought? Why did you buy these items, and how do you plan to act while you're wearing them?

Harm happens when we don't think about the impact of our actions and only focus on the intent. So sit deeply with these questions. And know that we ultimately can't control how anyone feels about anything that we do.

*I'm not insinuating that you all emailed with these questions for a stamp! I'm simply emphasizing that this type of reward-based behavior isn't the right approach.

CLARIFICATIONS

Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19, Monday, July 13
Tommy sent a note that scientists now believe COVID-19 is a vascular disease (which still affects the respiratory system), not a respiratory disease as this email initially stated. Learn more on The Daily podcast from NYTimes. This will be updated in the archives.

Analyze representation in media, Friday, July 17
Helen, and a couple others, noted that Black soldiers are mentioned in Hamilton in the song Yorktown in the lyrics "Black and white soldiers wonder alike if this really means freedom" and in Your Shot with the lyrics "But we'll never be truly free / Until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me / You and I / Do or die / Wait 'til I sally in on a stallion / With the first black battalion". Although I believe Ebony meant to emphasize a mention beyond lyrics (as in dialogue between characters, plot points, etc), the email as written is factually untrue. This will be clarified in the archives.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Analyze representation in media.

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It's Friday!

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

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

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

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

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

2. Explore other conversations about #RepresentationMatters on Twitter.

GET EDUCATED

By Ebony Bellamy

"Why are people mad about Hamilton?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Screenshot via Oprah Magazine

Our perception of representation is evolving.

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

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Respect AAVE.

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Hi all!

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

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

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

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

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

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Ilias Chebbi on Unsplash

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

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

Related Issues

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

July 9, 2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

End racial bias in school discipline.

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Hi everyone!

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

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

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

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

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Named changed by ProPublica to protect identity.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Embrace your race privilege.

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Happy Tuesday,

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

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

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

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

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

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

GET EDUCATED

What is race privilege?

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

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

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

What is white privilege?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Privilege is intersectional.

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

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

Embracing privilege means living with the discomfort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Respect the roots of Black hair.

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Happy Monday!

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

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

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

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

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

GET EDUCATED

By Ebony Bellamy

Cultural appropriation and hair discrimination

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is it harmful?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

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

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Nicole Cardoza 7/12/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/12/20

Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.

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Happy Sunday,

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

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

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

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

Nicole

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

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

GET EDUCATED

The correlation between COVID-19 and air pollution.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Air pollution is a contributing factor to COVID-19 contracting and death rates
Communities of color are disproportionately impacted by air pollution
Air pollution causes a series health complications
Stress not related to air pollution can compound the impact of air pollution on certain populations

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/11/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/11/20

Study Hall! Raising multiracial children and addressing microaggressions.

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Happy Saturday!

Welcome to faces old and new! This Saturday recaps our emails from the previous weeks, answers questions that came in from the community, and offers resources others shared in response to the topics we discussed.

The Anti-Racism Daily started June 3, and all previous emails are available on our website organized by categories for easy review. We're also now on Instagram @antiracismdaily.

If you haven't already, know that you can make a one-time contribution on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or contribute monthly on Patreon – but only if you choose. Thank you to everyone that's supported!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Write out three questions you have from the content shared this week, and discuss one of them with a friend. If it's difficult, consider starting your questions with the following inquiries:

What would it look like if...
If this issue didn't exist, what would this newsletter be discussing about this issue in its place?
I never realized that...
What did I believe about this issue before?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Your email mentioned, "shouldn’t we all be held to the same levels of accountability?" Can we create "one standard of behavior" across the board when it comes to race? When does setting different standards advantage the privileged or demean those who don’t hold privilege?
In response to Abolish qualified immunity, Monday, July 6.

I do feel we're missing a sense of standardization in how we hold each other accountable in relationship to the law. The qualified immunity conversation is fascinating to me because it makes it incredibly difficult to arrest and charge officials. Yet, we know that it is also much easier for Black people to end up in jail (previous newsletter). We already have standards of behaviors embedded in our Constitution that advantage the privileged or demean those who don't hold privilege.

In my opinion, we need to either abolish the standards that exacerbate the inequities or create new standards that counter the imbalance of power. We also need to be critical about who's creating the standardization, and what privileges their perspectives on the issue reflect. Your response mentions standardized testing (which is deserving of its own newsletters) as an example of standards that don't serve all. And it is in part because it wasn't designed to serve all.

Is it possible to create one standard that truly, equitably serves all? Perhaps not. But can we do a lot better from where we all now? Absolutely. And we must have these standards amend and iterate throughout time to best reflect the swiftly changing times we live in.

I know you referenced multiple times that cancel culture can be used in harmful ways and that it shouldn't be used to discredit the movement in general. But I think it's harmful not to name how harmful cancel culture can also be when it's not used appropriately.
In response to U nderstand the role of cancel culture, Friday, July 10.

I think right now the mainstream media is making that case well enough at the moment, which is why I didn't spend more time on it. I also think that appropriately is incredibly subjective – many people called cancel culture inappropriate when it was used to hold white men accountable during the #MeToo movement, and hold R. Kelly accountable re: sexual relations with minors. It wouldn't be my place to pick and choose examples of what is appropriate, or who is considered "well-informed" and who isn't, or whether victims of harm perpetuated against them are "taking it too far".

I also try to look at broader issues, like cancel culture, from an anti-racism lens, instead of the broader issue itself as a whole. That absolutely limits the scope of reporting on the issue itself and doesn't give a comprehensive look at the full picture. My hope is that we can understand how current events, and more importantly, our perception of them, can either accelerate or detract from dismantling systemic oppression. And as we watch dominant culture aim to cancel cancel culture, we need to understand how that can silence voices that need to be heard.

The action was to understand the role of cancel culture, not shield it from criticism. As we continue the work, especially on broad cultural and political conversations, it's important to remember that this newsletter cannot act as a single news source, single perspective, or sole comprehensive analysis. That's especially important to remember because there are so many -isms beyond racism that we need to dismantle, like sexism, ableism, homophobia and transphobia, etc, that are also impacted by these conversations. And although they often overlap, they each deserve their own lens (consider how the cancel culture movement gained fervor last week because of JK Rowling's transphobic comments, right off the heels of pride month and as so many trans lives have been lost these past few weeks).

Can I reference your emails when I contact my senator?
In response to Abolish qualified immunity, Monday, July 6.

Absolutely, share away. Whatever supports your activism. Feel free to forward our emails, or copy and paste content, however you need. But when you do, be sure to reference where it is from and who wrote it. You may notice this week we recently added bylines for contributors – as these conversations grow, it won't just be my voice anymore!

But I advise against signing anyone up for this email without their consent (local official, citizen, or otherwise). I understand the sentiment, but subscribing people in lieu of having a conversation about their racist behaviors likely isn't going to make an impact. It may even draw their animosity our way.

How are we supposed to know the breadth of microaggressions that a person can experience? And how can we assume that something we hear is a microaggression for someone else?
From Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions, Thursday, July 9.

There's not an expectiation that through this work you become an expert on all the topics immediately. There's a lot of binary thinking when it comes to anti-racism because there's a very binary goal – be actively anti-racist, or don't. But within it is a full scope and spectrum of learning and understand. The goal is to be consistently committed to the learning; a persistent student, always practicing the myriad actions we can take to dismantle white supremacy and learn along the way.

Side note: someone asked why I structure the emails with the action first, and the education following, feeling that it makes more sense to have the action at the bottom. But I want to emphasize, as I did in the paragraph above, that the active practice needs to be emphasized. It is the doing, not just the learning, that changes the world.

When it comes to racial microaggressions, there are more than enough instances of common questions, phrases, and terms used copiously to build a general understanding of what they are, and why they're harmful, so you can not use that language moving forward. And a healthy dose of empathy goes a long way. Paying closer attention to how your non-white colleagues show up in conversations, or respond to the language you're questioning, may also give you a clue that something isn't right.

You also mentioned that we can't assume that some microaggressions are considered microaggressions by everyone in the group. And you're right, it's never good to assume that all people from a same race are the same. But it is important to remember that if many people have actively said that language is harmful, it's likely to be harmful. So there's no need to use it and risk it, OR let someone else say it without addressing it.

I addressed a microaggression that a colleague made to a Black woman in our office, and she realizes her grave error. Should she now apologize to the Black woman?
From Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions, Thursday, July 9.

Great question! I wrote a whole newsletter on apologies on July 1, 2020; a follow up on one of the first newsletters we sent on checking in on June 6. I hope both of these perspectives are helpful as you continue to unpack this work.

Is there anything your parents did, or that you wish they did, that helped you to feel more comfortable embracing your biracial ancestry? What can I do for my children to help them navigate society and feel more confident in their identities?
From Honor the biracial / multiracial experience Tuesday, July 7

This is an excerpt from a response written by the original author Ebony Bellamy.
At a young age, I was educating my friends about being biracial because my dad and I always had open conversations about race. I grew up knowing I was different and that there was nothing wrong with that. My dad often shared stories about what it was like for him to grow up in NYC during the 60s and 70s (my dad was born in the late 50s). Those stories really shaped how I viewed my privilege has a biracial person because I learned how important it is to respect and honor different perspectives and cultures.

I think it's important to embrace all aspects of each race, so your children can grow up loving being biracial or multiracial. When they understand what makes each race beautiful and unique, they'll be able to embrace their racial identity with confidence.

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Nicole Cardoza 7/10/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/10/20

Understand the role of cancel culture.

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It's Friday!

Today's email is canceled, like everything and everyone else this year (kidding). But cancel culture is having a moment in the press this week, and I think it's important to note the role it's played in the movement over the past few weeks – and how it mirrors social movements of the past.

There's been so many thoughtful responses to newsletters this week. I'll be writing a recap and answering some questions in tomorrow's newsletter, so don't forget to send in your thoughts by replying to this email. Separately, if you identify as non-white and have a story to share in an upcoming newsletter, send us a message.

And as always, you can make a one-time contribution on PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or contribute monthly on Patreon to help us grow.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Consider the steps you would take to hold a public figure accountable for a racist action. How would you gain their attention? How would you measure success?

2. Reflect: How have others held you accountable in the past? How would you prefer to be held accountable in the future? How would you want to be held accountable as a public figure?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Trump said enough this week for a whole spin-off series of the Anti-Racism Daily, but one comment in particular stood out to me. It was when he addressed the nation on Fourth of July weekend about a "growing danger that threatens every blessing our ancestors fought so hard for". Was it COVID-19? Systemic racism? His consistent bans against immigration? The desecration of Native lands?

No. It was "cancel culture" (NPR).

There's been countless examples of people getting "cancelled" lately because of racist allegations, from racist white women caught on camera, to Youtube personalities, journalists and CEOs, and everyone in between (Fast Company). But cancel culture, or a public call for withdrawing from a public figure (or company) that's doing something harmful (usually via social media) isn't new. It was popularized in the mid 2010's by Black Twitter (Vox).

In a way, canceling someone is akin to a boycott; a public call-to-action not to participate with an individual. Anne Charity Hudley, the chair of linguistics of African America for the University of California Santa Barbara, reflected on this in a fantastic long-form article on cancel culture in Vox from 2019 (Vox). So from that perspective, cancel culture has even deeper roots. Hudley emphasizes that cancel culture is "a survival skill as old as the Southern black use of the boycott". We know that boycotts were not just a comprehensive part of the Civil Rights Movement (Anti-Racism Daily), but persist in other movements, too, including the #MeToo movement (Dictionary), the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement in Palestine (Middle East Monitor) and the Delano grape strike (History). And since in today's time, cancel culture is usually fueled online, the boycott becomes actionable from anywhere – allowing a much wider audience to join in, and perhaps a more swift takedown.

Naturally, as tensions rose this past month, instances of canceling did too. In a way, it felt like the digital equivalent of the physical protests. Online canceling likely gained rapid attention for the simple fact that more people are at home and plugged into social media than ever before (Business Insider). Also, in an article for Blavity, writer Anjana Susarla emphasizes that these types of controversy are exactly what social media algorithms love, so they naturally gain traction and visibility (Blavity).

Over the past few years (and especially now), many people have said that cancel culture has "gone too far". In fact, last week an open letter signed by over 150 artists and intellectuals was circulated, warning that cancel culture is eliminating the opportunity for free speech and civil discourse (NYTimes). Last fall, former President Barack Obama encouraged people to get past the idea of always being "politically woke" and remember that all people have flaws (CNN). Another popular argument against cancel culture is around its perceived effectiveness. Although celebrities are often canceled for racist, sexist, ableist, etc. actions, they rarely experience significant setbacks in their careers a result (Vox). Blavity goes so far to say that "canceling is a privilege (among many others) of the rich."

“When they throw around terms like “cancel culture” to silence me instead of reckoning with the reasons I might find certain actions or jokes dehumanizing, I’m led to one conclusion: they’d prefer I was powerless against my own oppression”.

Sarah Hagi, writer for Time

Any tool can also be wielded as a weapon, though, and there's undoubtedly instances of cancel culture out there that don't create actionable change. Oftentimes, cancel culture becomes harmful when it's applied in horizontal power structures, against others that have more complex, intersectional identities, and ask more than the capacity of the individual or company to respond (Vox). It can be used to publicly shame someone or to act out some personal vendetta. Also, you could argue that some do it hoping to boost their followers and voice.

But personally, I always come back to the structural inequities that fostered the culture that we live in. It's easier for people in positions of power to discredit cancel culture, perhaps because they are worried about what they could lose (Time). An instance of cancel culture may seem "new," but it's more likely the culmination of calls for accountability that went left unheard – like by HR professionals who didn't properly address toxic work environments, a board of directors who looked the other way when a CEO repeatedly caused harm, or media platforms that give public figures more exposure despite recent harmful statements. To escalate recent conversations on racial discrimination in the workplace, brave people of color had to break NDAs, navigate unemployment, and carry the stress of 2020 while also holding these brave and difficult conversations. Not all instances of cancel culture are good, but the practice itself is sometimes the only way marginalized folk can ensure their voice won't get lost in a system that was designed to silence.

Remember – usually cancel culture creates consequences for people with incredible privilege and power when they wouldn't have received it otherwise. No only do we need to hear marginalized voices, we need to set better examples for how we actively dismantle white supremacy.

In a way, Trump is right. We do have a growing danger in America when it comes to cancel culture. But that's how our system operates at default: it cancels the culture of systemically marginalized communities and limits their right to be heard. Some argue Trump is leading that charge (Washington Post). We can't tip the scales too far in the opposite direction and lose sight of our goals. But we must be nuanced with how we brand cancel culture. Otherwise, we could discredit both this form of protest and the invaluable stories that need it to be heard.

“Holding someone accountable isn’t the same thing as “cancel culture.” There’s too many people out here who haven’t acknowledged their mistakes, apologized for them, nor have they gone on to make amends; that are using “cancel culture” to shield them from accountability—do better”.

Ashlee Marie Preston, media personality, activist and journalist, on Twitter.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Cancel culture is akin to a digital boycott of a person, usually a powerful public figure
Canceling someone is an attempt to hold them accountable
Although aspects of cancel culture are being used in harmful ways, the practice of accountability is necessary for creating change, and minimizing future harm

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/9/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/9/20

Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.

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Hi,

We're close to the end of another week! Reminder that each Saturday I share reflections and questions from the community – reply to this email with yours. I appreciate all the thoughtful responses from our topics this week.

Many people have asked about microaggressions, so today's newsletter dives in. We've been focusing much of our newsletter on the systemic forms of racism, so this is a good reminder of how much our individual actions help to reinforce inequitable systems by perpetuating false stereotypes.

As always, you can invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep this community growing. We have new tools and resources coming your way, and your support is so appreciated!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

For those that identify as white:
1. Reflect on the last time you saw a racial microaggression happen. Have a conversation with that individual using the resources below.

Everyone:
2. Consider – what microaggressions have you experienced related to your identity? How did they feel? How do you wish to be perceived instead?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Stories of microaggressions have been making the news as brave non-white people share their harmful experiences with others, oftentimes in work settings. But they're easy to overlook as more overt forms of racism dominate the news cycle. Today we're analyzing how microaggressions play a major role in interpersonal and systemic racism.

Microaggressions are defined as "the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, which communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership" (B lavity). Microaggressions can be racist, sexist, homophobic, etc, and any combination of these, too (remember our conversation on intersectionality), but we're centering this conversation on racial microaggressions.

For the sake of our non-white readers, I won't be listing any examples in this article, but you can read lists of examples on Vox, NYTimes, Psychology Today, Fortune, Teen Vogue, Buzzfeed, Instagram, and CNN. Read these and Google "examples of racial microaggressions" so you can see more. Do not reach out to a non-white person to give you examples of microaggressions.

Because of the word "micro," many people (read: non-white people) consider instances of microaggressions to be brief and relatively harmless. But there is nothing micro about microaggressions. Many psychologists refer to the impact of microaggressions as "death by a thousand papercuts" for those that experience them on a regular basis (NYTimes). If macroaggressions define more overt forms of racism (JSTOR), microaggressions are more accurately subvert acts, a way to undermine or corrupt someone, which makes them all the more sinister, especially when people use them intentionally to get away with racism in public settings.

The impact of microaggressions

But the impact of microaggressions is anything but small. In fact, studies have proved that the impact of microaggressions is almost as mentally and emotionally damaging as macroaggressions (full study here). Another study found that Black teenagers in the United States face microaggressions multiple times a day, most frequently online, which often leads to depression (Blavity).

It's difficult to isolate the impact of microaggressions alone on broader health outcomes. But in this fascinating article from NPR, psychologists look at correlations of various health indicators after more overt forms of racism on different populations throughout the world and find consistent data that indicates how damaging stressful, traumatic experiences can be (NPR). The aggregated impact of racism, from the systemic to interpersonal, is being referred to as a term called weathering, which refers to the way the constant stress of racism can lead to premature biological aging and worse health outcomes for Black people (SELF Magazine). Although microaggressions certainly play a part in weathering, we'll discuss weathering in full at a later date.

But remember, we don't need statistics to validate harm. Kevin Nadal, a professor of psychology at John Jay College of Criminal Justice, puts it simply: "At the end of the day if somebody says something racist to you, it's racist. And if it hurt your feelings, it hurt your feelings, so it doesn't really matter what we define it as" (NPR).

“[Microaggressions] really chip away at your self worth, and it’s harder because the instances seem so small.”

Avery Francis, HR Expert for the Independent

Addressing racial microaggressions

As conversations around race grow in offices and around dinner tables, microaggressions have more of a chance to come out of the shadows. But it puts non-white people in a difficult position. Not only do we have to reckon with the emotional impact of the microaggression itself, we have to choose how to respond– knowing our disadvantaged position in these scenarios. We have to consider how responding could further enforce false stereotypes about our race. We have to gauge whether we could be provoking more racial aggressions, even bodily harm. We also have to consider how staying silent will enforce this behavior in the future, and cause further suffering.

Resources for responding to racial microaggressions as a non-white person that highlight these considerations are available in the Harvard Business Review and Advancing Justice website.

With privilege comes the responsibility to intervene on behalf of someone harmed and address racist interactions directly. Derald Wing Sue, a psychology and education professor at Columbia University in New York City, offers a way for anti-racist allies to intervene during a microaggression in an interview with CNN.

Make the invisible, visible.
According to Sue, the perpetrator is often unaware of their actions. As an anti-racist ally, you must, at minimum, make sure they are aware of the harm they caused (CNN). Diane Goodman, a social justice and diversity consultant, offers this format in the NYTimes:

“I know you didn’t realize this, but when you __________ (comment/behavior), it was hurtful/offensive because___________. Instead you could___________ (different language or behavior.)”

Educate the perpetrator.
Ensure they understand that regardless of the intent of what they said, it's the impact of their words that matter (CNN).

Disarm the microaggression.
Move the conversation past a problematic to communicate that it's offensive. According to Sue, you'll be "modeling good behavior to other people present, and you can have a later conversation with the person about why his joke was inappropriate" (CNN).

"…if you're a person with privileged identities and you want to be a true ally, maybe you do have to do that homework. Maybe you do have to engage in those uncomfortable emotions because you know that it's your job and responsibility to have those conversations so that other people of color or women or LGBTQ folks won't have to have those conversations for you.'“

Kevin Nadal, a professor of psychology at John Jay College of Criminal Justice for NPR

It's important as we do this work that we don't focus only on the blatant forms of racism. So much of macro systemic racism is reinforced by micro-actions, and racial microaggressions play a major part. As we do this work we must take accountability for microaggressions, and use our privilege to call them out however we can.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Racial microaggressions are common and brief and subvert forms of racism
The impact of racial microaggressions is as damaging as macroaggressions
Microaggressions contribute to the cumulative stress that non-white people experience as part of living with racism
It's important that we leverage our privilege to dismantle microaggressions in our workplaces and other social spaces

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/8/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/8/20

Investigate school district funding disparities.

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Hi,

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

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

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

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

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

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

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

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

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

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

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

The impact of Milliken v. Bradley

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

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

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

Daniel Hertz, Washington Post

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

Inadequate funding makes a major impact – especially now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEY TAKEAWAYS

School districts are inherently inequitable in racial / ethnic populations and the funding they receive
Only half of students in America go to integrated schools, despite Brown v. Board of Education
The overturning of the Milliken v. Bradley case in 1974 granted states power to decide how school districts would be drawn, despite histories of racial segregation
COVID-19 exacerbates these inequities and will likely have a lasting impact

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Honor the biracial / multiracial experience.

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Hi friends,

Today's Anti-Racism Daily is written by Ebony, our newest addition to the team! This piece honors her identity and the perspective she'll bring to our daily conversations. Send her a virtual warm welcome from wherever you're reading this!

This newsletter also offers a small glimpse into the breadth, depth and complexity of racial identity in our society and how it impacts our collective experiences – something to keep in mind as we continue to dismantle systemic oppression. It's why I'm committed to ensuring we continue to offer diverse perspectives on these critical issues.

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

To better understand the struggles biracial and multiracial people face daily, read books such as Beyond Black: Biracial Identity in America, watch Ted Talks, and videos that fully breakdown the biracial and multiracial experience.
Reflect: How would I feel if my racial identity was constantly being questioned? If this is already your lived experience: what do you wish to reclaim about your identity?

GET EDUCATED

By Ebony Bellamy

With conversations around Black Lives Matter becoming more prominent over the last two months, this has left multiracial people asking themselves, “where do I fit into these conversations?”, “am I allowed to voice my opinion?”, and “is my Blackness valid?”.

For biracial and multiracial individuals, especially those who are half-Black, 2020 marks a year of racial challenges. Whether it’s questioning their right to identify as a BIPOC or wishing they had the same physical appearance as a specific parent to fit into society’s standards, it can be difficult for them to accept their racial identity.

Throughout history, there has been a long list of words to describe people who are two or more races, and some of those were used to be hurtful. “Mixed”, “half-breed”, “mutt”, and “cross-breed” are just a few examples. In America during the 1800s, “mulatto” was the term used for someone who had one white and one black parent or was racially ambiguous. In South Africa, “bushie” is a derogatory slang term for mixed-race people because it’s believed multiracial children are conceived in the bush. While in Japan, they use “hāfu”, which means half, and in Brazil they use “cor de canela”, “cor de rosa”, and “cor de crema”. Read All Mixed Up: What Do We Call People Of Multiple Backgrounds? by Code Switch to learn more about the history of the terms used to identify multiracial people.

Today, “biracial” and “multiracial” are the most common terms used to describe a person who identifies as more than one race. Biracial is normally used for someone who has parents from two different races. While multiracial is used when someone has parents from two or more races such as a child having a half-Colombian, half-Trinidadian mother, and a father who is German, Nigerian, and Korean.

Unfortunately, it has become a glorified goal in society to have biracial or multiracial children. More and more individuals are seeking out partners from other races because they want their child to have “good hair”, light-colored eyes and a lighter complexion. But, they fail to realize the emotional and psychological challenges their children will face due to their complex racial background.

“Being able to pass as a lot of different races means other people don’t know how to categorize me, but it’s also made me second-guess how to categorize myself”.

Kayla Boyd, 23-year-old fashion and lifestyle blogger, in a Marie Claire article that shares the stories of biracial women who are half-white and half-Black

Growing up biracial and multiracial means people constantly asking, “where are you from?” and wanting you to categorize yourself. Although this question may seem harmless, it’s a difficult one to answer because not everyone wants to explain their racial background. Some individuals struggle with their identity and aren’t sure how to identify themselves. Plus, they don’t want to feel like they have to prove themselves if their physical appearance doesn’t closely resemble their race.

In today’s society, people are obsessed with their peers being “exotic” or a “cool mix.” This is extremely problematic because biracial and multiracial people are human, not a collector’s item or an object. It’s not their job to fulfill your curiosity by explaining their racial identity. Their race shouldn’t be the only aspect of them that defines them. That’s why a number of biracial and multiracial people refuse to disclose their race because they know they’ll be asked a million questions about their ancestry or if they like certain things because of their race. These questions are our subconscious way of placing people into a box based on stereotypes.

As a society, we feel the need to categorize people so they fit into our world views. And, when we can’t identify them we get frustrated and form unrealistic opinions on who they might be and how they should act. A good example of this is assuming all people with darker complexions are Black and like rap, the same music and fried chicken. That’s inaccurate and a dangerous way to think. Watch this 4:51 minute-long video BBC Three which discusses things you should never say to biracial and multiracial people.

We live in a world where our race determines how we’re treated by our peers and what opportunities we’ll be granted. Race plays a large role in how we relate to other people and how we see ourselves. So for biracial and multiracial people, they sometimes feel like they can only be one race. Simple things like applying for a job or scholarship require them to pick one race to identify with because a lot of companies and organizations still don’t offer two or more races as an option within the application. It’s a constant battle to figure out where they belong.

It’s human nature to want to feel like you’re a part of something. We all want to feel understood and represented in society. But, that’s something biracial and multiracial people don’t experience often enough because they feel like they constantly have to prove their self-worth and their identity.

“Identity is understanding who we are in the world. Part of that is how others understand us, and the other part is how we understand ourselves”.

Kerry Ann Rockquemore, co-author of Beyond Black: Biracial Identity in America for Marie Claire

As a biracial woman of Hispanic and Black descent, I can only speak from my own personal experiences. Not all biracial and multiracial people have the same experiences. Here are some viewpoints of other mixed-race people so you can further understand the biracial and multiracial experience in America.

"White people like to believe I'm Caucasian like them; I think it makes their life less complicated. But I don't identify as 100% white, so there always comes a time in the conversation or relationship where I need to 'out' myself and tell them that I'm biracial.”
Helen Seely, 'Racial Impostor Syndrome': Here Are Your Stories, Code Switch Podcast

“My mum’s family are from Cyprus. My dad’s family are Jamaican, with African heritage. But I grew up in northwest London. When I was the president of the African Caribbean Society at university, one of my friends who ran the society with me told me I wasn’t really black because I had a white mum. I think from that point onwards I’ve always referred to myself as black – very intentionally. I stand in solidarity with all black people. I don’t think being mixed makes me any less black. Whiteness is set up to exclude all those who are not white.”
Dean Atta, The mixed-race experience: 'There are times I feel like the odd one out', The Guardian

“I've noticed that some people are much less tolerant. They get tied up in knots when people identify in ways that don't square with their own worldviews or racial math. Check the comments on any article that refers to Obama as the first black president, and you'll find someone lamenting that he is just as much white as he is black — half and half! — and it doesn't make sense to call him African-American. But he's chosen a descriptor that reflects his life experience, and, hard as it is for some to accept, we don't get to dictate what other people call themselves.”
Jenée Desmond-Harris, 6 things I wish people understood about being biracial, Vox

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Research the history behind the terms used to identify people of multiple racial backgrounds to better understand the biracial and multiracial experience.
Although we’re curious about people’s racial identity, we shouldn’t interject our own personal opinions on race when talking to someone who is biracial or multiracial.
Read perspectives from biracial and multiracial people when understanding what not to say in conversations.
Acknowledge that each biracial and multiracial experience is different and unique.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/6/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/6/20

Abolish qualified immunity.

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Happy Monday,

It's been 115 days since Breonna Taylor was killed and she still hasn't seen justice (Vox). I think about this often, especially as we watch conversations swirl around qualified immunity and how we hold police officers accountable when our systems fail to do it for us. Today's #antiracismdaily takes us through history to understand how qualified immunity prevents so many victims from finding even a semblance of justice in an unjust world.

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

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

U.S. Readers:
Contact your local senator encouraging them to act on abolishing qualified immunity.

International Readers:
Consider how your country / region holds state and local officials accountable. How does this vary from the U.S.? How does it impact your local law enforcement?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

What is qualified immunity?

As communities work to reform and abolish law enforcement across the country, qualified immunity is under heavy scrutiny. Over the past few weeks, a bill to end qualified immunity has been passed by the House (as part of the Justice in Policing Act), but is currently stalled in the Senate (Vox). Last Wednesday, July 1, liberal senators introduced the Ending Qualified Immunity Act (CNN) to add as a companion piece to the initial legislation.

Some police act like the law doesn’t apply to them. And because of qualified immunity, they're kind of right. Qualified immunity means that government officials are shielded from charges that they violated constitutional and civil rights – unless the victims of those violations can show that the rights were “clearly established law". This means that in order to charge the perpetrator, the victim must first find an exact same example of the case at hand that's already been ruled illegal or unconstitutional to establish its legitimacy (USA Today).

Still confused? Here's a TikTok video that demonstrates it more simply. Bless (some) TikTok creators.

Here's a real-life example. In February, the 5th Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals held that a prison guard in Texas who pepper-sprayed an inmate in his locked cell “for no reason” did not violate clearly established law because similar cited cases involved guards who had hit and tased inmates "for no reason", rather than pepper-spraying them (USA Today). The full report notes that if the victim was punched or hit by a baton "for no reason" the assault would violate clearly established law (PDF).

Another example is the story of Malaika Brooks, a black woman who was seven months pregnant and pulled over for speeding while dropping her 11-year-old off at school. She refused to sign the speeding ticket (mistakenly thinking it was an acknowledgment of guilt). She was then tased three times, dragged into the street, pressed facedown into the ground, and cuffed (NYTimes). Although the judges saw that her constitutional rights were violated, they dismissed the case, arguing that "no precedent had 'clearly established' that tasing a woman in Ms. Brooks’s circumstances was unconstitutional at the time" (NYTimes).

This creates a paradoxical situation: how can you hold law enforcement accountable if their specific violations haven't been held accountable in the past? Justices are allowed to interpret "clearly established law" as specifically as they choose. And what's worse – the more egregious the violation, the more likely it doesn't fit neatly into a previous case. It's no surprise that, according to George F. Will, the Supreme Court, applying its “clearly established law” doctrine, has denied immunity only twice in its past 30 cases (Washington Post). There are dozens and dozens of examples just like the ones above, preventing citizens from holding police accountable for harm.

“Important constitutional questions go unanswered precisely because those questions are yet unanswered. Courts then rely on that judicial silence to conclude there’s no equivalent case on the books. No precedent = no clearly established law = no liability. An Escherian Stairwell. Heads defendants win, tails plaintiffs lose”.

Judge Don Willett, U.S. Circuit Judge of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit, in The New Republic

So, how did we get here? Qualified immunity is buried in Section 1983 (named for its number in U.S. code, not the year), a provision from the Civil Rights Act of 1871, also known as the Ku Klux Klan Act. After the Civil War, the federal government was focused on re-integrating the South but faced violent resistance from white supremacists, most notably the Klan, who was waging a war of domestic terrorism by "killing black Americans and white Republicans, burning down their homes and churches, and intimidating local communities into accepting white-supremacist rule" (The New Republic). Sound familiar?

The government had to act, so it passed the Ku Klux Klan Act, granting it more power to intervene against violations of the 14th Amendment (house.gov). Within it, Section 1983 gave private citizens the power to sue state and local officials who were violating federal constitutional rights – building more personal accountability into the work (The New Republic). Although power granted by the Ku Klux Klan Act was removed by the Supreme Court after the Reconstruction Act, Section 1983 remained, dormant until 1961.

This is when James Monroe, a Black man, and his family were pulled from their beds late one night and assaulted by thirteen police officers with no warrant (sound familiar)? Monroe was then held for interrogation for 10 hours without access to a lawyer or being charged with a crime. In the case Monroe v Pape, the Supreme Court ruled that they had the right to hold the police officers accountable, using the terms of Section 1983 as reference. This grounded the provision as a part of holding law enforcement accountable in today's rhetoric (The New Republic).

But a shift in terminology has made this more difficult to execute. Initially, the rule was written so that citizens could hold officials liable if their actions were "under color of state law," meaning they were executed by state or local officials. But the Supreme Court changed this in 1982, revising to ensure that government officials were entitled to “qualified immunity” from such lawsuits unless their actions violated a “clearly established law” (The New Republic), the terminology that still stands today. Despite the flood of renewed interest this past June, the Supreme Court declined to revisit this topic, leaving it up to the legislative branch to figure it out (CNN).

It's important to note that abolishing qualified immunity won't solve all problems in law enforcement – but if you've been reading this newsletter long enough, you might have already realized that! These issues never exist in isolation, and one change can't dismantle an entirely inequitable system. But abolishing qualified immunity sends a message that many more police officers that violate the Constitution will be held accountable. It also holds anyone with government power to the same standards as normal human beings. And shouldn’t we all be held to the same levels of accountability?

“Qualified immunity shields police from accountability, impedes true justice, and undermines the constitutional rights of every person in this country. There can be no justice without healing and accountability, and there can be no true accountability with qualified immunity. It’s past time to end qualified immunity, and that’s exactly what this bill does”.

Ayanna Pressley, U.S. Representative for Massachusetts's 7th Congressional District, on her website.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/5/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/5/20

Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.

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Happy Sunday,

This week looks at the impact of COVID-19 on the Navajo Nation, and the systemic marginalization that has created vast inequities in basic infrastructure. This is part of our recurring Sunday series analyzing how racism exacerbates the impact of this global pandemic – you can catch up in the archives.

As our team of writers grows, you'll see new bylines within the newsletter to celebrate the diverse voices carrying the conversation forward. This team is possible because of your contributions – you can invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep this community growing. Thank you for your support!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Donate to the local mutual aid fund Families to Families Ajooba’ Hasin, a grassroots mutual aid fund organized by ThunderVoice Eagle and his sister Alicia to support in the Bodaway / Gap area of Navajo Nation.
Visit the Tribal Communities COVID-19 Action Doc, organized by Diné poet Kinsale Hueston to stay up to date with recent needs on the ground in Navajo Nation.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

As COVID-19 continues to ravage the country, none have felt its impact more acutely than the Navajo Nation, (the Diné People) the second largest Native American tribe. Although reported cases have slowed over the past few days, the community has been disproportionately impacted. Over 8,200 people have tested positive for the virus (according to the IHS), resulting in a higher per capita infection rate than New York and New Jersey (Native News). The death toll equates to a death rate of 177 per 100,000 (latest states show 375 total)– more than 16 states including Kansas, Nebraska, and South Dakota (The Guardian).

This is because of long-time systemic racism against the Native community. After the expansion of the U.S. westwards forced thousands of Navajo to leave their homes, America reserved a stretch of land where they could maintain an illusion of sovereignty. The federal government pledged to support Navajo Nation with necessary infrastructure – like funding for education, healthcare, and other services. But as coronavirus has swept through the reservation, it has underscored many of the unkept promises that have created social and economic inequalities that continue to affect the tribe, exacerbating the impact of the virus (BBC).

As a result, the Navajo community has limited access to the essentials. The Navajo Nation is a food desert with only 13 grocery stores (NPR). One-third of residents do not have running water, and in some towns, it’s 90% (Bloomberg Law). Staying at home and social distancing become problematic when residents have to travel and congregate frequently to get access to basic needs. And preventative measures like handwashing become incredibly difficult to practice without running water at home.

Beyond that, information – particularly the rapid developments of COVID-19 – is difficult to access. According to the Navajo Tribal Utility Authority, 60% of Navajo lack Internet access, which means many people can’t hear regular announcements from public health officials or tune in to frequent Facebook Live town halls with the Nation's president (NPR).

The underfunded healthcare system isn’t designed to meet basic needs, let alone a global public health crisis. The United States allocates just $3,943 per person for health care for Native Americans through the Indian Health Service, less than half the $8,602 spent by the Bureau of Prisons for health care per prisoner (NYTimes).

Fatality rates from COVID-19 are higher partially because of higher levels of pre-existing conditions, like asthma, diabetes, hypertension, and heart disease (NYTimes). As the virus peaked, the Navajo Nation sent the direst patients from the reservation to hospitals equipped with ICUs in neighboring states. But this may not be possible in the future, given that over 80% of Arizona’s adult ICU beds are full – almost 40% with Covid-19 patients (The Guardian). It will continue to prove difficult as the virus surges (NPR).

On March 27, the Trump administration pledged $8 billion in CARES Act funding to tribal governments across the country, which was desperately needed; by March 20, less than a month after the pandemic hit the reservation, the tribe already had spent $4 million on COVID-19 response efforts (AZ Central). But it took over 80 days, numerous lawsuits and public pressure for the Trump administration to pay tribal nations the COVID-19 relief they were promised by the federal government (Indianz). The Navajo Nation only received $600 million in May, a “Band-aid” to fix the systemic issues preventing adequate support for the community (NPR).

Despite this, about 25% of the population on the reservation have been tested, one of the highest rates anywhere. In comparison, Arizona has tested 5% of its population, and nationwide the figure stands at 8%, according to the Covid Tracking Project. Mutual aid – community-driven, volunteer support that benefits all – have made this possible.

ThunderVoice Eagle, an artist and local leader of Navajo (Diné) and Totonoc descent, shares more about how his community is responding to the impact of COVID-19.

By ThunderVoicee Eagle

The rapid response of the Navajo Community to build emergency mutual aid relief groups has been incredible. Rather than waiting on the government to fail the Diné people once again, the local communities have organized and mobilized to take care of one another, primarily led by women (a nod to the history of a matriarchal community).

From Ordenda Tribe and designer BYellowtail’s collaboration to get thousands of masks to remote parts of Navajo Nation, to Ethel Branch’s massive COVID-19 Relief fund that’s raised over four million dollars for mutual aid, to Kinsale Hueston’s social media campaign highlighting the disparities Navajo Nation faces in every sector of society and raising support for a wide range of mutual aid groups, to the Families to Families fund initiated by my sisters on the frontlines in my home Chapter of Navajo Nation (Bodaway / Gap), we have seen an overnight response that has transformed our community and saved lives.

“Though the systems that my people face are often stacked against us intentionally, we have come together to care for each other when others have once again failed. As we move into the next phase of Covid-19 response, along with aligning with our Black brothers and sisters, we as Diné and as Native people are working together to combat the systems that oppress us”.

Following in the push for the change of racist names and terminology in pop culture (BBC), along with the removal of colonizing statues (Indian Country Today), just this week’s traction has grown to get rid of dehumanizing mascots (Illuminatives). On July third and fourth the Sioux Nation has once again mobilized to put pressure on the government to return the sacred Black Hills land that was promised to them in the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 (Newsweek). Discussions have been elevated around food sovereignty, access to adequate healthcare, Tribal Sovereignty, land rights, land reparations, combatting appropriation, and water rights.

The Diné people, along with many other sovereign Native Nations, will use the momentum our mutual care during COVID-19 has grown, to push further for equity for our people.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/4/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/4/20

Weekly Reflection: White terrorists, Black spaces, and deleting Facebook.

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Hi everyone,

Each Saturday I go through the questions and reflections from the community in response to the actions we've been taking everyday. It's a good way to reflect further on the key themes – and catch up on any actions you missed this week. This weekly series needs a better title...

Many of the questions this week are too broad for a simple one-paragraph response, and are added to the list for future newsletters! And kind reminder that these daily newsletters should be part – but not all – of your anti-racism education and actions. There is no such thing as "enough" until we are all free! They're designed to introduce you to issues, but certainly can't paint the whole picture in 800-1000 words. Keep learning and listening.

As always, you can invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep these conversations growing. I'm so grateful to be learning and unlearning with each of you.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Choose one newsletter from this week. Share with a friend to read, and discuss afterwards. Commit together to diving deeper, answering your questions, and learning more.

WEEKLY REFLECTION

Why is it that white men, whether at schools or otherwise, are very rarely reported and / or labeled as terrorists?
In response to Don't Vote for Trump, which analyzes the white supremacy movement in America

Racism, put simply. Ibram X. Kendi puts it simply – terror in America (and in many parts of the world) has been branded as something delivered by Black and Brown communities (The Atlantic). White men that commit acts of terror are usually referred to a "troubled individual" "acting alone," but in reality (like in the examples from our newsletter on Confederate symbols) they are nearly always perpetuating a violent and racist ideology – one that's embedded in the fabric of our society.

Teen Vogue has done some powerful reporting on this, analyzing both the response to the Parkland school shooting (Teen Vogue) and criticizing how certain people get named terrorists (Teen Vogue). And the NYTimes analyzes how the white supremacy ideology thrives online and in the Trump administration (NYTimes).

Thank you to person that submitted this question WITH the research they've done so far!

"
In the American imagination, danger comes mainly in black or brown, to the point that people miss the threat emanating from individuals who happen to be white. In recent years, white terrorists motivated by all sorts of bigotry have shot up white churches and synagogues and concerts and schools and bars and yoga studios. White people, not to mention the rest of us, are being terrorized—primarily by other white people. Any day can be the day they meet the final face of white terror, too.

The fundamental question of our time is whether we have enough respect for humanity to protect against white terror. Do we have the desire and the courage to preserve and extend pockets of equality, liberty, and democracy in the face of those who would subvert and destroy them?

– Ibram X. Kendi in The Atlantic

Do we all leave Facebook so we're not complicit?
In response to 6.30 newsletter Boycott as a form of protest, which reviewed the power of boycotts in the anti-racism movement.

Facebook is a powerful tool for staying connected with friends and running businesses. It might do you more good to stay informed and active online than going dark altogether. But that choice is up to you. It's highly unlikely enough people will boycott the service to cause Facebook to change, but it is likely that brands pulling millions of advertising money will. My opinion? I'd focus on getting the large company you may work for to pull ad revenue (if they use FB) than deactivate your own account.

But I get a lot of questions like these that feel less tactical, more moral (although this particular reader sounded very tactical, so just using this as an example). For moral questions, I leave that decision up to you. Ask yourself the questions and decide: what are you willing to sacrifice? What is being called for in this moment? Are you taking action for yourself or the greater good? Will this action be your only action? Is this action the most comfortable one?

How do I find black-owned businesses?

Google!

I’m a white woman and want to support Black businesses. I also want to be cognizant of Black spaces and not infiltrating them with our whiteness. Can you touch on this?

Supporting Black-owned businesses with your dollars is always a good thing (and please remember to make it sustainable, not just a one-time thing, because Black-owned businesses have operationalized to manage demand that might disappear once the protests fade). But you bring up an interesting intersection of supporting these businesses and gentrifying them with your presence.

I'll spend time on gentrification more broadly later on. But I think there needs to be a distinction between Black-owned businesses and Black spaces. Black people – and other people of color – deserve their own space to connect and heal (great article on this by The Arrow) but that might not be a Black-owned business, which may be designed to cater to any population. And start asking yourself questions about whether you belong in that space, how people will feel with your presence, and how you would be actively contributing. It takes a level of awareness about how to navigate spaces – an awareness that Black people, and other people of color, have had to practice their entire lives.

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Nicole Cardoza 7/3/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/3/20

Share these words by Frederick Douglass.

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Happy Friday,

And happy "holiday" weekend, although it certainly doesn't feel celebratory. I appreciate how many people reached out about how to respond to Independence Day this year: should we protest? Boycott? Call our local officials to cancel their festivities?

It shows how thoughtfully everyone is reading and applying the concepts from previous newsletters, which I greatly appreciate. Thank you for being here.

As always, you can invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep these conversations growing. I'm so grateful to be learning and unlearning with each of you.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Share parts of the "What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?" this weekend as part of your festivities (an image you can share on social is included below).

2. Create an annual tradition to share and reflect on these words with your loved ones.

If you're based outside of the U.S., consider how your country may be celebrating its independence when most of its people aren't free. Who are the voices that deserve recognition on your national holiday?

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I kept today's analysis brief because Frederick Douglass' words do that for us. Please read his speech in full.

Frederick Douglass, who escaped from being enslaved and became a prominent abolitionist, orator, writer, and social reformer, was invited to speak at an event commemorating the signing of the Declaration of Independence, held at Corinthian Hall in Rochester, New York (more on Frederick Douglass here). The Ladies Anti-Slavery Society of Rochester, New York, invited him to speak on July 4, but he spoke on the fifth in protest of the national holiday, as well as to commemorate July 5, 1827 — the end of slavery in New York (Travel + Leisure).

The speech, which is included in full at the link below, was delivered at a pivotal part of American history. The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 had just been passed, which gave the federal government authority to capture people that were allegedly enslaved and return to their captors, even if they were in a free state (History). The book Uncle Tom's Cabin had just been published, and the upcoming presidential election was about to happen (Time). Together, these events would all provide the soil for the Civil War, and the civil rights movement that's still unfolding today.

Spoken nearly 200 years ago, the words known as "What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?" are a scathing critique of the failed promises of the Declaration of Independence to Black people enslaved. It acknowledges the contributions of the Founding Fathers while noting the hypocrisy of of these ideals with the institution of slavery (NMAAHC). Much of Frederick Douglass' words still ring true today. America, unfortunately, has still not lived up to its promises for all people.

Read Full Speech

Alternatively, you can watch five young descendants of Frederick Douglass read the entire speech in this video (NPR).

Share this image on social media using the hashtag #antiracismdaily.

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Nicole Cardoza 7/2/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/2/20

Remove police from our public schools.

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Hi!

I've been itching to write something about racism in education. My full-time job works to bring yoga and mindfulness to schools, so I've seen how education upholds racism first-hand, and feel passionate about dismantling it – for this generation and those to come.

The recent conversations on removing police from schools skims the surface of a much broader conversation on the school-to-prison pipeline, which I'm committed to covering in a future issue. I could've kept writing this for another week – so know there's more information to come. And I highly encourage you to use the references to get more context than this email contains.

As always, you can invest one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or monthly on Patreon to keep these conversations growing. I'm so grateful to be learning and unlearning with each of you.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Efforts to remove police officers from schools are happening in cities across the country. Search to see whether those conversations are happening in your community, and how you can support (whether signing a petition, making calls, etc).

2. Reflect: How would your life be different if you were arrested at 12 years old?

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Our reckoning with law enforcement is happening in schools

As conversations on defunding the police turn into political action, many major school districts across the country are pledging to remove police officers from schools (Minneapolis, Seattle, Portland, Denver, Milwaukee). Most prominently, the Oakland school district will "eliminate its police department by the end of the year and hire more social workers, psychologists, or ‘restorative justice practitioners’ as part of their George Floyd Resolution" (Time). And on June 18, the American Federation of Teachers – one of the country's largest teacher unions – officially called for the separation of school safety and policing as part of their commitments to combat racism against Black students (AFT website).

“Our schools do not need police. We need mentors to help guide us through school and to dismantle the school-to-prison pipeline.”
Denilson Garibo, student representative on the school board, recent graduate of Oakland High School (Time)

Brief history of SROs

School resource officers, or SROs, law enforcement personnel that are responsible for safety and crime prevention in schools (Brookings) have been in schools since the 1950s, initially created to build rapport between local law enforcement and youth. These officers have the same training, the same capabilities and the same resources as other members of the police or sheriff's department -- but their roles are more multifaceted, ranging from security to settling disputes, monitoring bus traffic, and even standing in for teacher and administrators (CNN). I couldn’t find hard data on this, but the National Association of School Resource Officers’ website says that most SROs are armed (website).

The Columbine High School massacre in 1999, and then the series of school shootings of this past decade justifiably prompted schools across the U.S. to increase their SRO staffing. These initiatives were accelerated with support from the Trump administration after the Parkland shooting (Daily Signal). You can also read about how the Trump administration also rescinded previous policies designed to protect minorities from excessive disciplinary actions (NYTimes). According to the National Center for Education Statistics, 42% of public schools reported employing at least one school resource officer during the 2015-16 school year.

Racial disparities in discipline

But studies have proved that police officers in schools are disproportionately disciplining students of color. During the 2015 – 2016 school year 290,600 students were referred to law enforcement agencies or arrested, according to the US Department of Education Office for Civil Rights. Of them, 31% of them were Black (although only representing 15% of the student body). 65% percent of the arrests were students of color or mixed races. (Full report on their website). Black students are also more likely to attend schools with SROs, more than students in any other racial or ethnic group.

These insights align with how disproportionate arrest rates are outside of the classroom (ABC News), and how SROs contribute to the school-to-prison pipeline, a concept coined by Paul Butler, a former federal prosecutor, that looks at the many ways school climate contributes to youth to transition from the classroom to incarceration (Justice Policy Institute). We’ll be discussing school-to-prison pipeline in a future newsletter.

Note: these studies also show disproportionate disciplining of students with disabilities – so consider how intersectionality comes into play, and how necessary the proposed alternatives can be for students with different identities.

And interactions between SROs and students are becoming increasingly violent, another trend reflected in broader culture. Last winter, an SRO in Florida was fired after grabbing a middle school student’s hair and yanking her head back (Orlando Sentinel). Another SRO officer in North Carolina lost his job after he repeatedly slammed an 11-year-old boy to the ground (Buzzfeed). Note that both of these officers were reprimanded, likely because both incidences were caught on camera.

Take the story of Kaia Rolle, a 6-year-old first-grader in Orlando who was charged with misdemeanor battery, cuffed and put in the back of a police car after having a temper tantrum in her classroom (Orlando Sentinel). Florida has no laws around the minimum age of arrests, along with twenty-seven other states (see the minimum age for arrests for each state at the National Juvenile Defender Center).

So, where do we go from here?

Is there a way to reform police in schools? Perhaps. After the 2014 killing of Michael Brown, the Jennings School District in St. Louis County, Missouri worked with the local police force to ensure that the SROs represent at least 75% of the student demographic, which is predominantly Black or at least come from the neighborhoods in the district (CNN).

And supporters of SROs in schools are advocating for this. A father who lost his daughter in the Marjory Stoneman Douglas school shooting is encouraging districts to reconsider, citing that SROs have helped juvenile arrests decline over the past 12 years (CNN). Police officers emphasize that officers in school can help build positive relationships between students and law enforcement, and change the stereotypes against officers (Pittsburgh Post-Gazette). An article from the Wisconsin State Journal also identifies that removing police officers from the local high schools reduces the limited number of Black men as role models in the classroom – although this brings up a whole other issue of the lack of diversity in teachers and administrators in schools across America (Wisconsin State Journal).

But the rationale behind the defund the police movement applies here: what if we’re past the point of reform? And how could we invest in missing infrastructure to create other resources that students need? Consider that there are 1.7 million students that attend schools with police, but no counselors (ACLU). Schools with such services “see improved attendance rates, better academic achievement, and higher graduation rates as well as lower rates of suspension, expulsion, and other disciplinary incidents. Data shows that the presence of school-based mental health providers not only improves outcomes for students but can also improve overall school safety” (ACLU).

And this Brookings study notes that since so many SRO policies were designed reactively to violence (and justifiably so), they need much more careful consideration to create equitable, long-term solutions that support all students (Brookings). In addition, studies indicate that, considering school shootings are horrifying but rare, building this reactionary infrastructure might do more harm than good for the health and wellbeing of students, calling more action around gun control instead (Washington Post).

Investing funds from police into counselors – along with other mental health support and nurses, or after-school programming, arts and music, mindfulness programming, and much more – is all the more urgent as the impact of coronavirus ravages school budgets (NYTimes). And as we watch the stress and anxiety of both this global pandemic and the protests impact the Black and brown youth of our country (NYTimes), it’s due time to consider taking direct action, and defunding police in schools create safe spaces for kids to learn and grow – and disrupt a larger narrative of policing Black people and other communities of color.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Disproportionate policing against communities of color is happening both generally and in classrooms
School districts in major cities are moving to remove officers in schools
Funds from SROs can be re-allocated to counselors and other support services for students
Removing police officers in schools can help to disrupt the school-to-prison pipeline

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“Failing to address racism as a fundamental cause of health disparities is a key reason why we have witnessed little progress in reducing many of these disparities in the United States over the past 50 years”.CDC Employee Letter to Address Workplace Racism and Discrimination, via NPR

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CLARIFICATIONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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“[Microaggressions] really chip away at your self worth, and it’s harder because the instances seem so small.”

Avery Francis, HR Expert for the Independent

Kevin Nadal, a professor of psychology at John Jay College of Criminal Justice for NPR

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Daniel Hertz, Washington Post

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“Identity is understanding who we are in the world. Part of that is how others understand us, and the other part is how we understand ourselves”.Kerry Ann Rockquemore, co-author of Beyond Black: Biracial Identity in America for Marie Claire

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“Failing to address racism as a fundamental cause of health disparities is a key reason why we have witnessed little progress in reducing many of these disparities in the United States over the past 50 years”.

CDC Employee Letter to Address Workplace Racism and Discrimination, via NPR

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

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

“Identity is understanding who we are in the world. Part of that is how others understand us, and the other part is how we understand ourselves”.

Kerry Ann Rockquemore, co-author of Beyond Black: Biracial Identity in America for Marie Claire