Respect the relationship between name and identity.

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Happy Monday!

A couple of weeks ago, we discussed the petition against Trader Joe's and I asked you to submit stories about whether your own name has ever been challenged or questioned. In today's newsletter, Jami explains the relationship between our names and our identities and features stories submitted by our community.

As always, we appreciate any and all contributions. Consider giving one-time on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Ask yourself what gut-level judgments you make based on other people’s names.
Make more intentional efforts to pronounce and honor other people’s names.
Learn the names and histories of Black and Indigenous activists and leaders who are alive and fighting—not just the ones who have been murdered.
Support BIPOC activists as they fight to change the names of institutions that honor racist legacies.

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)

In America, many of our institutions, schools, and organizations are named after white men with racist histories and legacies (Education Week). After facing increasing public pressure from activists after the murder of George Floyd, many of these institutions are undergoing a reckoning. Some of the outcomes initially seem positive: Congress now has bipartisan support to remove Confederate names from military bases (New York Times). But an institution’s reluctant willingness to remove a problematic name isn’t the same thing as a willingness to publicly honor and support BIPOC leaders. After years of pressure from its Black students, Louisiana State University Library finally removed the name of its segregationist former university president—but refused to rename it after the school’s first black female Ph.D. graduate, Pinkie Gordon Lane, as petitioners wished (Library Journal).

People who resist these changes often think: what is the big deal? A name is just a name. But names are powerful symbols. For a person of color, a name can be one of the most visible links to our communities and backgrounds—and also a target for racism and discrimination. A 2003 study showed that job applicants with white-sounding names received 50% more responses than those with Black-sounding names (National Bureau of Economic Research). Just a few months ago, a white male professor asked Vietnamese American student Phuc Bui Diem Nguyen to “Anglicize” her name because it sounded offensive in his language (diemquyynh on Instagram). When she refused, he made up a nickname for her; he didn’t back down until her story went viral (New York Times).

Honoring names is especially important in light of the way Black and Indigenous people have had their names and cultural identities forcibly erased by white colonizers throughout their histories. In Liseli Fitzpatrick’s African Names and Naming Practices, she writes: “European colonizers attacked and defiled African names and naming systems to suppress and erase African identity – since names not only aid in the construction of identity but also concretize a people’s collective memory by recording the circumstances of their experiences.” Indigenous lawyer and writer Christina Gray notes: “Renaming has been a critical part of settler colonialism generally, which is predicated on the erasure of Indigenous peoples, including their languages, cultures and social structures — any and all evidence of Indigenous peoples’ living presence,” (Yellowhead Institute).

As a light-skinned Japanese Taiwanese American, my experience with my name is wholly different than those of Black or Indigenous folk. And yet as a child, I too felt shame because of my middle name, Nakamura, one that made me visibly different from the people around me. It wasn’t until I was older that I began to take pride in the ways my names connect me to my family and my history. I have thought long and hard about what my daughter’s name reflects to the world (New York Times).

Our names say that we are here. Our names say that we exist, that we have always existed, even if you haven’t always seen us. And read these powerful stories we received from readers reflecting on their names. Responses have been lightly edited and condensed for space constraints.

My father is Indian, and his name is Rajiv, but after being teased all throughout his school years he decided to go by 'Neil' when he started college, and still uses that name today. He also lost a lot of his ability to speak Hindi because my grandparents were afraid that it would hinder their children's English or their acceptance in America. I'm now teaching myself the language, which got him to attempt to re-learn it too. - Anonymous

When I was born, my parents named me Ángela. But that quickly got Americanized, as whoever did my birth certificate dropped the accent over the first letter of my name. It wasn't until the age of 21 that I decided to reclaim my name: Ángela. Doing so was incredibly empowering because I felt for the first time like my truest authentic self. Some people uplifted said reclaiming my name was honorable and beautiful. Other people did not get it and did not take me seriously. Over time, I've tried to not let those comments and reactions get to me, but to be honest, it still hurts. I hope one day that all changes. -Ángela Mendez

When I came to this country my teachers called me Lah-teef, which as a little girl, I assumed was my American name. I spent 15 years introducing myself that way to folxs. My name is really pronounced Lah-tee-feh. It just demonstrates how impressionable kids are. Had my teacher just asked me how to say my name, I wouldn’t have spent almost so much of my life mispronouncing my own name. -Latiffe Amado

There was one teacher that always mispronounced my name, saying that it "just sounded so much better that way." I never felt like I could correct him myself. The power difference was too great.
-Anonymous

If immigrants from Europe felt the need to "Americanize" or "English-ize" their names in order to be accepted/assimilated into American culture, how much greater that pressure must be for those from other parts of the world. My ancestors chose to change their name in order to separate themselves from the country they left and to start anew in America. That does not give me the right to expect the same from anyone else coming to this country. -Anonymous

My entire family in Thailand calls me a Thai nickname but it's very hard for Americans to pronounce. By pure coincidence, my parents had accidentally given me a Thai name that had an English-sounding name at the beginning of it. So I started going by [that name]. I had heard it would help me be remembered on resumes and at job interviews. My mom was even so worried she asked if I wanted to legally change my name to [the English-sounding name]. But I have legally kept my full name because it's a tribute to where I came from and I don't want to erase that. -Anonymous

My name is Dilpreet, which is pronounced phonetically. It’s written the way it’s said. Yet many times when I say my name, people look at me with complete confusion and annoyance that they have to pronounce such a different name. I made it a habit to give myself a nickname like Dil or DK to make it easier for those who thought my name was too difficult. In college, I finally met classmates who positively reacted to my name and wanted to make sure they were pronouncing it right. I’ve learned that I shouldn’t have to make others feel comfortable to say and understand my name, my identity. Let them say your name. -Dilpreet Kainth

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Take the time to learn how to say our names correctly, even if at first the sounds are difficult for you.
Acknowledge that a name is not just a name— it represents a history and a community.
Understand how the ongoing denial of names connects to our country’s legacy of erasure of Black, Indigenous, and other people of color.

6/5/2020 | Breonna Taylor. Say her name. And remember it.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

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

Nicole Cardoza 8/9/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/9/20

Understand the unemployment gap | COVID-19

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Happy Sunday,

Today we continue our weekly reporting on the impact of COVID-19 on communities of color. The unemployment gap is a critical economic indicator of the growing disparities between each group, and important for us to watch as we struggle to recover from this global pandemic.

Your financial contributions are greatly appreciated. These contributions are our only source of funding and make this work sustainable. Consider giving one-time on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Check-in with your neighbors to see if you can support with childcare, assisting with groceries, or running errands.

Make a donation to your local food bank or other community center offering services to meet the basic needs of those in need.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

On Saturday, Trump signed four executive orders to provide economic relief as COVID-19 persists across the nation. One of which authorizes the federal government to pay an additional $300 a week for unemployment, calling states to add $100 and ensure a $400/week extension (NPR). The $600/weekly unemployment benefits implemented in an earlier relief package expired in July.

Considering the gross disparities in the impact of COVID-19 on communities of color across the board, this may come as no surprise. But as of July 2020, the gap in U.S. Black and white unemployment rates is the widest it has been for the past five years (Reuters). The white unemployment rate is roughly at 10.1%. In contrast, the Black unemployment rate is 15.4% (Reuters). This five percentage point does include a slight rebound of employment since COVID-19 hit across both groups. Still, the rebound rate is significantly slower, indicating that Black people will be disproportionately delayed in finding roles as the economy recovers. These trends persist across other racial/ethnic groups; The unemployment rate for Hispanic workers is at 14.5%, closely tailing the unemployment rate for Black people. The unemployment rate for Asian workers hovers at 13.8% (Reuters).

The global pandemic didn’t create this disparity. Although the national unemployment rate was at a 50-year low before COVID-19 (Quartz), Black people were still twice as likely to be unemployed than their white counterparts (ProPublica). Since the Great Recession of 2010, we’ve watched the unemployment rate of Black communities recover more slowly than the unemployment rate for white workers. This lag in delivery, compounding with a more profound disparity in employment opportunities for communities of color, created the unequal foundation for the COVID-19 impact to exacerbate (ProPublica).

“The Black unemployment rate is always ridiculously high, but we don’t treat it like a crisis.”
Jessica Fulton, vice president of the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, for ProPublica

Initially, reports indicated that differences in education contributed to the disparities; new data shows that can’t be the only factor. Institutionalized racial discrimination, found in anything from how resumes are screened and interviews are conducted to mentorship, job training, and promotions opportunities, is a significant contributor (Quartz).

These trends are more evident when cross-analyzed with other data. Unemployment rates in some cities, for example, are disproportionately larger between white and Black populations than others, according to data compilated by Quartz. In Minneapolis, the center of the national protests back in May, the unemployment rate for Black people is nearly 4x the unemployment rate for white people (Quartz). The city recently declared racism as a public health emergency to allocate resources and capacity for addressing the systemic inequities pervasive through the city (CBS News).

The trends persist even in wealthier households. Although unemployment rates are lower for roles usually reserved for those with college degrees, data indicates that Black people are still more likely to be unemployed (ProPublica). Explore more data in this comprehensive visualization by ProPublica.

It’s also important to note that the unemployment rate is disproportionately affecting women. The unemployment rate for women at 10.5% is larger than the 9.4% of men (Forbes). For communities of color, this is especially damaging, considering women of color face with mounting issues like lower salaries, increased harassment and bullying, and harsher evaluations (Business Insider). Disruption to employment may make it more difficult for these women to secure these roles again or re-establish boundaries to keep themselves safer. Also, many women of color are the financial mainstays for their families. 67.5% of Black mothers and 41.4% of Latina mothers were the primary or sole breadwinners for their families, compared with 37% of white mothers (American Progress). These financial disruptions can create immediate hardship and create economic issues that can last generations.

As businesses begin to deteriorate because of this virus and more people lose their jobs, it may be wise for our government to consider an unemployment strategy that centers those most impacted to help assist the disproportionate impact of this virus on so many communities of color.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The unemployment gap between Black and white workers is the highest it's been in the past five years
COVID-19 has exacerbated persistent trends in unemployment for communities of color
Racial discrimination, along with education and mass incarceration, are major factors in the unemployment rate
Women of color are disproportionately impacted

7/19/2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.

7/12/2020 | Learn how air pollution exacerbates COVID-19.

7/5/2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.

6/21/2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19

6/14/2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Study Hall! Emoji blackface, the "family card," and starting conversations.

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Welcome to our weekly Study Hall where we answer questions and reflections from the previous week. Much of this week's actions were focused on personal reflection and insight (we signed a LOT of petitions the week prior, so I wanted to get us back in our journals).

We always save questions for future newsletters and hope to get to them all soon! Thank you for your thoughtful inquiries this week.

As always, your support is greatly appreciated. These contributions are our only source of funding and help us plan out for the long-term. You can give one-time on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.

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

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

In review: The newsletters we published this week.

8/7/2020 | Don't play the friend card.

8/6/2020 | Don't do digital blackface.

8/5/2020 | Avoid spiritual bypassing.

8/4/2020 | Protect the right to vote by mail.

8/3/2020 | Stay awake.

8/2/2020 | Protect those vulnerable to extreme heat during COVID-19.

Are emojis another form of digital blackface? I have a lighter-skinned friend who always uses darker-skinned emojis for "solidarity" but it feels off.

I say yes, and in fact, I'm working on a whole other piece on this for next week. But in short, always question what's the reason to use other skin colors. Does adopting a darker skin tone make the person feel more "sassy" or "angry?" That falls right into the same stereotypes we reviewed earlier this week. And regardless, it took until 2015 for emojis to be updated to include skin tones (Emojipedia). That was prompted by a series of requests for diversity – not for white people to adopt different skins for their thumbs up.

Some of my White relatives can be racist, but when called out on it, they say, "But my granddaughter/son-in-law/nephew, etc., is Black, so I can't be racist because they are a part of my family." How can I best communicate with my extended family about the issues in playing the 'family' card? How can I support my Black extended family members when other relatives are being racist?

The "friend card" and the "family card" work in a similar manner. We can all be racist in a racist system and society, regardless of our proximity to non-white people. I'd prompt them with the same questions mentioned in our newsletter: how do your actions affect [family member]? Does that action prevent others from harming them in the same way? What if someone you didn't know had said something like that to [family member]?

What do we do if we missed the boat? The message seems to be, "if you've ignored this part of your friendship until now, now is not the right time to stop ignoring it." Do we bring up race in an interracial relationship if we haven't discussed it yet?

This message seemed to be written by someone that identifies as white, so I'll start from that perspective. I'd encourage anyone to start this conversation in a safe and appropriate way. Know that your non-white friend has the capacity to determine what feels right for them and may not be interested in having this conversation with you. Don't center the conversation on you and your needs. Instead, focus the conversation on their perspective. I recommend reviewing the resources in these Anti-Racism Daily newsletters – and searching for other resources from anti-racism scholars and educators – before you do.

I am one of the people in the newsletter that has all-white friends. How do I diversify my friend group?

Diversifying friend groups generally is tough as we get older and we find ourselves in the same communities for an extended period of time. And I certainly think it's exacerbated with social distancing during COVID-19. But the likelihood of finding new friends starts with our capacity to understand and empathize with other people. So I'd think of your personal anti-racism journey as a step in that direction. Keep doing the work. Then, start looking at the spaces you choose to frequent and how diverse they are. Consider shifting those activities to spaces that cater to a more diverse audience. Odds are, you'll be supporting businesses that are more committed to equity and inclusion, which is part of this practice, too. Coffee shops and yoga studios are a good place to start.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Playing the friend card is referring to a friend from a marginalized community to act as justification against any racism or discrimination
Creating friends to practice performative wokeness is a deflection from the actual work needed
Interracial friendships are not nurtured in our society, and rare when analyzing the stats
Being in interracial relationships takes communication, trust and boundaries

7/25/2020 | Study Hall! How to be a better ally, petitions, and plastics.

7/18/2020 | Study Hall! Ebonics, capitalizations and cultural appropriation.

7/11/2020 | Study Hall! Raising multiracial children and addressing microaggressions.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Don't play the friend card.

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Happy Friday, everyone! Quick note of gratitude for all the thoughtful inquiries and feedback on the content from this week. I'm glad it's resonating with you, and I'm slowly working my way through your responses.

Tomorrow is our weekly Study Hall. I recap the week's content and answer questions from the community. Reply to this email to submit your questions! For today, we're taking a look at playing the friend card, and how it some wield it to bypass the harm they cause. Please don't message me about how you actually do have a Black friend.

Help us make this newsletter sustainable! Make a one-time contribution on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

ps – you can also encourage your office to create a subscription for your whole team – no need to forward to everyone or post on Slack! Bring Anti-Racism Daily to Work >

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TAKE ACTION

Reflect on your own friend group:

How was it formed?
What are the racial/ethnic identities that form your friend group?
How do you protect your friends from harm?
How do you participate in the system that cause your friends harm?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

A common argument in interpersonal conversation around racism is the “Black friend”. Start a conversation about race and someone might respond with something like, “I’m not racist! I have a best friend who’s black!” The trope is so common that in her popular IG live talk show on racism, Ziwe Fumudoh always asks her guests how many Black people they know. But she already knows the answer; most say “four or five,” which must be a socially acceptable number of friends to not be a racist (NYTimes). And it goes beyond “Black” and “friend.” Swap any racial identity (or marginalized community) and relationship in: “dated an Asian guy,” “transgender colleague,” etc. Don’t get me wrong; a statement could hold contextual relevance in some cases. But it’s often used as a way to shield oneself from blame or deflect responsibility from acknowledging harm.

Let’s first acknowledge that these “friends’ might not really be a friend. Sometimes the “friend” is actually a coworker seen around the office once or twice, or a high school acquaintance that somehow pops up in the newsfeed occasionally, despite no contact for years. Is there an authentic relationship, or is this a conflict avoidance technique? This idea was pressed to its extreme at the center of a recent Twitter controversy. A queer, Indigenous Arizona State University professor was a well-loved part of the science community on Twitter, often tweeting about being a part of the Hopi tribe, equity in academia for the LGBTQ+ and Indigenous community, and most recently, their battle with COVID-19. The user passed away, and hundreds of their followers shared their sympathies – until realizing that this person was an elaborate hoax (Vice). The account was revealed to be run by MeTooSTEM founder BethAnn McLaughlin, a neuroscientist who has a history of ignoring or intimidating women of color – and may have created this account to regain some credibility for past transgressions (Science).

Don’t be so quick to judge McLaughlin; inferred interracial friendships are likely more fiction than fact if you ask the data. 75% of white Americans have entirely white social networks, according to a study from 2013 (PRRI). And 92% of white Americans have a spouse or partner who is also white only (Pew Trends). Although at slightly lower rates, communities of color predominantly spend time with people of their community. And that’s partially because relatively few adults feel connected to others that don’t share their racial background (Pew Trends). There are some fascinating insights on multiracial communities, based on what race/ethnicity they identify with, in here that’s worth exploring (Pew Trends).

Also, I’d argue that if everyone did have a Black friend during these protests, they’d have a more nuanced response. Because interracial relationships – platonic or otherwise – can be fraught with tensions and demand intentional care. And if we’re all doing the work to understand them, we may know better than to deflect with a dismissive statement. Yseult Polfliet and Hannah Pechter, cofounders of The Kinswomen podcast, which covers topics on race and relationships, agree that talking about race is crucial for boundaries and trust (The Cut).

“

It’s not genuine, because you don’t want to look at the big elephant in the room — because it is a big elephant in the room. You can’t ignore it. We have these questions brought up in our conversations, where people say, ‘It’s weird. I’ve been friends with someone for years, and we’ve never talked about this.’ And it’s like, maybe you have to be the person who initiates that conversation.

Yseult Polfliet, cofounder of The Kinswomen Podcast, for The Cut

This point was emphasized in an excerpt from BIG FRIENDSHIP: How We Keep Each Other Close co-written by Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman. In both cases, you can see how damaging it can be if interracial friends aren’t talking about racism until something unavoidable happens, like a global pandemic or nationwide protests.

Studies indicate that interracial friendships decline as kids enter adolescence, which is heavily influenced by the school they go to (The Atlantic). Further research shows that some students of color may befriend white students “as they begin to internalize the higher value their teachers place on the white students,” which shifts friendships from a space of social engagement to social survival (New Republic). Teachers that emphasize the value of all students and focus on creating diverse groups for students to socialize in can help reduce this trend. But it can’t be solely up to teachers; parents, too, can encourage and foster healthy relationships (The Atlantic).

But all hope might not be lost there. While researching for the book The Company We Keep: Interracial Friendships and Romantic Relationships from Adolescence to Adulthood, Yale sociologist Grace Kao found that kids that go to a racially diverse school are more likely to befriend people of another race as an adult, even if they didn’t have interracial relationships during that time (Yale). Unfortunately, as we’ve referenced in previous newsletters on school funding, racial segregation and housing inequality create wide disparities in classrooms’ racial and socioeconomic composition (Anti-Racism Daily).

Where do we go from here?

Having an interracial friend doesn’t make anyone incapable of doing something racist. I’ve watched people I’ve once considered friends do lots of racist things, either directed to me or others, that I’ve had to address. It doesn’t mean things won’t happen again. Also, someone that we consider our friend might not feel the same way, perhaps because we’re unable to support them when it comes to race.

Let’s remember that our proximity to people of color does not make us exempt from the system that systemically oppresses them. Let’s consider that we do have an in-depth understanding of interpersonal racism and have a conscious, empathetic friendship. We’re still participating in a broader system where we can perpetuate or dismantle racism interpersonally.

For example, I’m a light-skinned Black woman with dark-skinned Black female friends. Regardless of how strong our friendship, I’m still part of a system that favors light-skinned Black women over dark-skinned Black women (The Guardian). And intentionally or otherwise, my presence and my behaviors can both perpetuate discrimination and harm. Acknowledging it with a flippant statement that "I have dark-skinned friends" minimizes the pain, and may discourage me from leveraging my own privilege and power to take action.

So instead of using the “I have a ____ friend” argument when it comes to race, spend more time honoring and reflecting on what that friendship means to you. Sometimes, listening and learning can bring more value than retort. Instead, let's commit to do our best to protect that friend, colleague, lover or loose connection through our anti-racism actions each and every day.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Playing the friend card is referring to a friend from a marginalized community to act as justification against any racism or discrimination
Creating friends to practice performative wokeness is a deflection from the actual work needed
Interracial friendships are not nurtured in our society, and rare when analyzing the stats
Being in interracial relationships takes communication, trust and boundaries

7/10/2020 | Understand the role of cancel culture.

7/9/2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.

7/7/2020 | Honor the biracial / multiracial experience.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/6/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/6/20

Don't do digital blackface.

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Happy Wedthursfrimonday? Hard to tell these days.

In an interview regarding his books “Home and Exile” and “Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe stated that “the whole idea of a stereotype is to simplify.” But what happens when stereotypes become imitated, replicated, scaled and normalized because of social media? Today’s newsletter analyzes our nation’s history with blackface, blackface in the digital age, and who benefits from Black culture. It’s part of our ongoing series on cultural appropriation – catch up in our archives.

Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. Please consider giving one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon. Your funds help pay staff and ensure this newsletter remains free.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Research to find a specific example of a racist stereotype shared through digital blackface – like a gif, TikTok or other form of content. Consider the following:

What harmful stereotype(s) does this content perpetuate?
What was the intention of the person who shared this content?
What is the impact of the person who shared this content?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

What's the deal with TikTok?

TikTok, a social media app with 100 million users in the U.S., has caught Trump’s ire. The app, known for highly-sharable short videos, often created based on viral themes, was created by ByteDance, a Chinese-based media company. Trump argues that the Chinese government could compel the company to share American users’ data or use the platform as a form of propaganda to worsen U.S. and China relations (Wired). Although it seems this is more a PR tactic than a national security threat, millions were outraged that they may lose their social media platform. Unsurprisingly, Instagram took this time to launch their TikTok competitor, Reels, which adds a copycat TikTok experience. This news also aligned with new criticisms of the app’s role in perpetuating digital blackface.

To understand digital blackface, we must start with understanding the history of blackface. Minstrel shows gained popularity in the 1830s in New York, where white performers with blackened faces (most used burnt cork or shoe polish) would don tattered clothing and imitate enslaved Black people. These performances characterized Black people as lazy, ignorant, superstitious, and hypersexual. They would intentionally make them hard to understand and prone to thievery or cowardice (NMAAHC). From the late 19th century and into the early 20th, these shows gained national popularity, moving with ease from stages to radio shows (NYTimes). Popular American actors like Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, and Shirley Temple brought these caricatures to the big screen. And this imagery extended beyond performances to marketing anything “from tobacco to molasses to breakfast cereal” (NYTimes).

And these weren’t merely comical performances. These shows helped to build a national consensus of the role of slavery and discrimination against Black people. These tortured depictions “embodied the assertion that blackness was grotesque in itself because it could never achieve the mythical ideal of whiteness” (NYTimes). Consider that the first popularly known blackface character was named “Jim Crow” and depicted “a clumsy, dimwitted black slave.” The name became a common slur against Black people, so it was used to refer to the anti-Black laws implemented after the Reconstruction period (History).

Also, consider that it took until 2020 for Aunt Jemima to change their branding based on these stereotypes (CNN), and Gucci thought that this turtleneck was appropriate in just 2019 (NPR). There’s a comprehensive list of public figures that have used Blackface (CNN). We are still watching blackface unfold in real-time.

Unpacking Digital Blackface

The term “digital blackface” is a bit different. Coined by Joshua Lumpkin Green in 2016, digital blackface describes how technology enables non-Black people to appropriate Black culture and adopt Black personas (Wired). This trend is particularly relevant on social media, where likes and views reign supreme, so anything goes. Blanketed by the relative comfort of anonymity, anyone can leverage Black language and culture without claims to the experiences or identities that create the community.

We’re watching this unfold on TikTok in real-time. Jaliah Harmon, a 14-year-old who loves dancing, created an intricately choreographed dance to the song “Lottery” by the Atlanta rapper K-Camp and uploaded it to Instagram. The dance, called the Renegade, quickly got to TikTok, where it went viral. But Charli D’Amelio, a white TikTok dancer with the most followers on TikTok at the time, is considered its CEO because she, like many others, copied it without crediting its source (NYTimes). Jaliah is only now seeing her due, but Charli charges an estimated $100,000 per sponsored post (Cosmopolitan), launched her own nail polish line dance and has been in a series of high profile partnerships, like dancing with Jennifer Lopez and appearing on “The Tonight Show” with Jimmy Fallon (Variety).

TikTok is designed for ideas to be shared and remixed, so what happened with Renegade isn’t surprising, but disappointing in a world that often undervalues Black women. But this same model fuels deeper harm against Black people, allowing, for example, white people to create videos lip-synching the words of Black people to exaggerate them, or imitating racial stereotypes – both of which sound more relevant to the 1830’s than the 2020s (Wired). As this comprehensive Wired article notes, TikTok users likely aren’t always doing it to be racist, but simply for the virality, clout, and followers. Nevertheless, disparaging posts on slavery, perpetuating police brutality against Black people, and other terrible stereotypes aren’t just posted, but encouraged, because of the algorithm.

:Virality often occurs through shocking behavior. Whether it's acting provocatively, bullying, or using racial slurs and stereotypes, a lot of users see that their questionable behavior gets a reaction, and that just encourages them”.
Morgan Eckroth, barista and TikTok user, in Wired

Although TikTok’s algorithm fuels this trend, digital blackface isn’t new. Vine, a similar social media platform that enabled users to create and share 10-second videos launched by Twitter, had several racist trends and challenges go viral on their platform, sparking accusations of blackface as early as 2013 (Metro). In 2016, Snapchat released a Bob Marley filter on 4/20 that literally gave users digital blackface and dreadlocks, which is both racially insensitive and minimizes the life and legacy artist (Wired). And AAVE (explained in a previous newsletter) is used so frequently across social media platforms that a TikTok user declared it simply “internet culture” (Daily Dot).

Digital Blackface and Gifs

Digital blackface manifests in other ways online. A common way is how many people use gifs of Black people and Black culture to express themselves, despite not being Black themselves. Certainly, we can all love a scene from a movie that just happens to feature a Black actor or feel that a kid’s facial expression suits how we feel right now, regardless of the kid’s race. But as Lauren Michele Jackson, the author of White Negro, explains in this brilliant Teen Vogue article, the gifs of Black people shared tend to depict overexaggerated expressions of emotions. And our society often associates Black people with being excessive. Consider the trope of the “angry Black woman,” the “angry Black man,” or the “aggressive Black boy”. These caricatures have been perpetuated in the media throughout history and used to justify condemnation, subjugation, and violence. See Serena Williams, Christian Cooper, and Michael Brown for specific examples.

“Digital blackface in GIFs helps reinforce an insidious dehumanization of Black people by adding a visual component to the concept of the single story”.
Naomi Day, Speculative fiction and Afrofuturist writer, on Medium

Beyond digital blackface, there are more common ways people can use Black culture and imagery fo their gain. They may seem innocuous but are just as harmful. Consider how, after the protests, brands started using more photos of Black people on their social media feed, despite not addressing internal culture or practices that contribute to their oppression. Although they’re not directly adopting a Black culture or persona, they are trying to align themselves with a community that they haven’t earned the right to represent

What do we do about it?

This isn’t to say that an individual sharing their favorite gif or jumping into a TikTok trend is inherently racist. It’s the system that these actions are couched in. As we’ve explained in other posts regarding cultural appropriation, Black people experience significant discrimination and harm for expressing their culture – while white people are celebrated and compensated for it. I’m not taking away your favorite gifs for the sake of doing right. It’s another opportunity to keep doing the work. As you speak in a cultural language that’s not your own, consider what it says for the people who speak that culture fluently.

And social media platforms have a responsibility to protect their users from harm. The worst part of the TikTok story is how Black creators on TikTok are regularly experiencing racism harassment and censorship on the platform, especially when speaking up against these issues (Wired). And despite their public announcements, the company still hasn’t taken sufficient action to protect and center the needs of the Black community, despite naming Black people as “the most inspiring, creative voices on our platform” (Wired). The safety and security of TikTok is in question, but not for the dangerous space it’s created for communities of color on the app. And as other companies rush to acquire or compete with TikTok, I hope they make mitigating digital blackface a priority.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Digital blackface describes how technology enables non-Black people to appropriate Black culture and adopt Black personas
Blackface has deep roots in the founding of America, and was used to normalize racist stereotypes against enslaved African people
The TikTok algorithm exacerbates digital blackface while exposing its Black community to harm
We need tech to take responsibility for digital blackface on their platforms, and hold ourselves accountable for our own actions

RELATED ISSUES

7/16/2020 | Respect AAVE.

7/14/2020 | Embrace your race privilege.

7/13/2020 | Respect the roots of Black hair.

7/10/2020 | Understand the role of cancel culture.

7/9/2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/5/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/5/20

Avoid spiritual bypassing.

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As a first-generation Indian American woman, I’ve had periods of my childhood where I suppressed my culture to blend in. Being the daughter of immigrants is beautiful and complex, and even though I grew up in the most diverse county in the country, my sister and I were usually the only Indian people in school. We were singled out with many of the offensive Indian stereotypes you can imagine. Being a yoga therapist and having taught within this industry for some time, I see how South Asians are excluded, and white people are praised.

However, South Asians have privileges in that Black folx do not. I was reading about the phrase “to conflate”: taking two events or experiences and fusing them into one. Yes, my family and I have experienced racism living in the U.S. But that does not make it the same experience as what Black communities have endured for centuries in the West. To fuse them together is to bypass and thus invalidate the intergenerational trauma in our society.

Today we’re reviewing how the westernization of yoga encourages spiritual bypassing, which harms communities of color and actually prevents people from practicing the genuine roots of yoga.

Melissa

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Analyze the wellness brands and yoga teachers you follow and the language they use to promote their products, classes, and retreats. Do you notice bypassing language or behavior?

Follow vital work done by leaders in the yoga and social justice space. Take their courses, buy their books, and pay them for their time*. Here are some suggestions >

GET EDUCATED

By Melissa Shah

What is spiritual bypassing?

Spiritual bypassing, according to Psychology Today, is “using ‘spiritual ideas and practices’ to sidestep personal, emotional ‘unfinished business,’ to shore up a shaky sense of self, or to belittle basic needs, feelings, and developmental tasks.” (Psychology Today). It acts as a deterrent when we are not ready to confront difficult emotions in our lives. However, it is also a common tool used to avoid acknowledging one’s privilege because doing so is inherently messy, painful, and requires continued awareness.

Yoga has been co-opted in the West as a feel-good practice where you are supposed to “empty your mind.” But the actual purpose of yoga is to connect with your inner knowing, develop clarity, and direct the mind. Practicing yoga in its sincere form can bring up a lot of discomfort. There is a difference between having the appearance of processing something difficult and processing it. Truthfully, on an individual level, no one can know this for sure except you. However, it can manifest in ways that harm others. For example, when someone shares a painful experience, and you immediately respond with “love and light” style advice, rather than actively listening and empathizing (more via Rachel Cargle on Instagram).

How does it show up in wellness?

Spiritual bypassing in wellness spaces is rampant, and deeply embedded in societal conditioning. It’s most easily identified as always chasing what “feels good” or, in other words, chasing the light without sitting in the shadow.

“Good vibes only,”’ repressing the full spectrum of emotions, being overly compassionate, and anger avoidance are a few examples prevalent in wellness spaces. Think of how many times you’ve been in a yoga class or scrolled your social feeds, hearing students or teachers share how we are all the same, or to ‘love and all is coming.’ Objectively, these are beautiful sentiments, right? But what do they mean in the context of the current state of our communities? In the context of hundreds of years of oppression against Black folx?

Privilege is the ability to step in and out of this content at leisure, without any difference in how your capacity to move through society. Spiritual bypassing shows up so often in wellness that I feel it has warped into normalcy. It is ANYTHING but that.

Here are some examples of spiritual bypassing in common phrases and interactions to avoid.

Don’t say, “love and only love will bring us together.” This phrase is not only a misuse of the notion that loving kindness for our fellow neighbors is vital to our progress as a community, but it also minimizes its power. Excluding anything other than positivity isn’t being in a state of yoga.
Avoid using phrases like “We are all one,” “we are all human,” or “stop creating division!” Acknowledging our differences and listening to the stories of those left out of wellness spaces comes first (Yoga is Dead on Instagram). True unity comes when we can recognize how we play a role in disparities perpetuating themselves.
Avoid asking your BIPOC friends to acknowledge that you're doing the work to be a good ally. Don’t look for validation or gratitude for the work you should do to understand their experiences better.
Don’t use yoga terminology to bypass difficult conversations that challenge you and therefore invalidate the person’s experience approaching you.
- Suppose a BIPOC student expresses that they felt unsafe in a yoga studio because the white teacher was using harmful or culturally appropriated language. In that case, a bypassing response is “the teacher probably had good intentions. Give the teacher the benefit of the doubt. Isn't that what yoga's all about?”
- Don’t use the definition of yoga (to yoke, join or unite) to bypass discussing your privilege or how you have contributed to leaving target audiences out of wellness spaces.
- Examples: Recently, a teacher with a sizeable social media following co-opted yoga philosophy language to bypass the impact of COVID-19 and how it has highlighted existing racial and health disparities in our country and the world (Instagram).

What does it mean concerning race?

Spiritual bypassing minimizes the experiences of targeted audiences. Generations of racism and brutality and its impact on communities of color are against yoga’s first ethical value: non-harming (Yoga International). Invalidating painful experiences of racism, like this white yoga teacher did just days after the murder of George Floyd, is an act of erasure (Facebook). It can cause BIPOC folx to feel that they need to bury their own experiences and emotional responses to make room for dominant culture.

As Mic says in a recent article on this topic, “spiritual bypassing" is the ‘all lives matter’ of the yoga world” (Mic). When yoga teachers fail to acknowledge current events affecting underrepresented communities in wellness spaces, it harms students of color seeking areas to feel seen and heard. It also prevents white students from learning the unmistakable intersectionality of yoga and social action.

Practicing spiritual bypassing is a misuse of yoga that harms everyone. As you deepen your yoga practice, you don't ascend from this world. You become more of this world. And you can more clearly see the injustices in the world you live in, and better understand your role in taking action. Michelle C. Johnson, author of Skill In Action, offers insights on how to get started.

Read examples from other BIPOC practitioners on the harm of spiritual bypassing (all quotes via Today).

“Yoga is literally the opposite of escapism; it’s a trauma-informed practice. What yoga tells you is to be present, to work through the emotional discomfort. So if you're buying into a studio culture that only makes you feel good, that only tells you you're OK, even when you're not feeling well, you're not actually gaining the real long-term benefit of yoga.”

Tejal Patel, co-founder of Yoga is Dead Podcast and founder of Tejal Yoga

“With all of these shootings, police brutality, when you're telling me to clear my mind, I can’t do that. I feel like that's not taken into consideration when I've been in white yoga and meditation spaces. And then it’s just… bam bam bam do this pose, do that pose. There’s no real connection or acknowledgment.”

Sevon Blake, a Black 29-year-old baker in Queens, New York

“We would all love to be positive all the time, but when your positivity comes as a response to real trauma or pain that people are having, then you're trying to use your positivity to erase instead of empower.”

Morgan Fykes, a Washington D.C based yoga teacher

*Remember, people are not resources. Refrain from sharing a BIPOC yoga teacher’s name as ‘hey they will be a great resource for you.’ When you reference a person as a resource, you say that their sole purpose is for your consumption. Books, podcasts, publications, emails - these are resources.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Spiritual bypassing is avoiding dealing with intense and difficult emotions, pain, and trauma. It is often used in the wellness industry to avoid acknowledging privilege, and the harm white-centered spaces cause to BIPOC communities.
It is harmful because when we bypass the history of racism in our country and how it impacts communities of color, we allow ourselves to remain complicit in how it affects the wellness industry and broader society.
Spiritual bypassing limits one’s spiritual growth and capacity for clarity and discernment – yoga’s real purpose.

7/13/2020 | Respect the roots of Black hair.

7/10/2020 | Understand the role of cancel culture.

7/9/2020 | Acknowledge the harm of microaggressions.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/4/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/4/20

Protect the right to vote by mail.

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Alright. Buckle up because this one is a wild ride. I don’t know about you, but I hadn’t been following the USPS situation closely until researching this newsletter and wow. Wow. Let’s take a journey through history to fully understand how the struggling U.S. Postal Service and a surge of voting by mail can aggravate disenfranchisement for communities of color.

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Nicole

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Sign the change.org petition to save the USPS.

Get clear on the vote by mail rules and deadlines in your state, including any initiatives to protect the right to vote by mail.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

The Trump administration has expressed repeatedly that there is “tremendous potential” for vote by mail fraud, and Trump himself has gone as far as to suggest postponing the election (Twitter). Although experts say that voting by mail is more vulnerable than voting in person, actual fraudulent incidents are rare. Of those, they have been easily detectable – like the incident during North Carolina’s Ninth Congressional District race in 2018 (NYTimes). Any fraud with the capacity to sway the outcome of a national election would be easy to identify. Five states – Colorado, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, and Utah – already conduct elections almost entirely by mail and haven’t recorded significant fraud of note (NCSL). Nevertheless, Republicans and Democrats alike call for more accountability and scrutiny to minimize harm during this unprecedented time.

It’s more accurate to argue the “tremendous potential” for vote by mail disenfranchisement than vote by mail fraud. Take the current situation in New York. Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo encouraged voters across the state to participate in the June primaries through vote by mail, widely distributing mail-in ballots throughout New York City. But election staffs quickly became overwhelmed with 400,000 mail-in ballots, 10x the number of mailed-in ballots received in previous elections (NYTimes). Six weeks later, two congressional races remain undecided, and election officials fear that 20% of ballots for New York’s 12th Congressional District will be thrown out, disenfranchising over 100,000 voices (The Intercept). Similar issues in California earlier this year (PBS) and historically in other states raise the same concerns (The Intercept).

There are many reasons for a ballot to be thrown out during the counting period. Some are human error: incorrectly filling out forms associated with the ballot, forgetting to sign, or having a signature that doesn’t match their voter registration form. It is important to note that although user-driven, many of these errors disproportionately impact voters of color and language-minority voters (The Intercept). But the focus of today’s newsletter looks at the responsibility of the U.S. Postal Service, which is partially responsible for the issues in New York City. An essential part of mail-in voting relies on delivery dates: depending on the state, ballots can be disqualified if they’re not received by the election deadline, or at least postmarked by that date. In New York, thousands of voters didn’t receive their ballots until the day before the primary. Also, the U.S. Postal Service “had difficulty” processing ballots with their prepaid return envelope, potentially invalidating thousands more (NYTimes). In Michigan, currently preparing for its primary on August 4th, election administrators said they have “fielded complaints from voters who had not yet received their ballots” (Washington Post).

The U.S. Postal Service is having a rough 2020. In fact, it’s been having a tough go since the mid-2000s, when consumer habits and economic instability ravaged its revenue. Earnings plummeted as people shifted from mailing letters to sending texts with the rise of mobile devices, and the Great Recession of 2008 obliterated first-class mail volume – a high margin profit source (Washington Post). In 2019, the USPS delivered 31.4% less mail than the year prior. But in contrast, the number of individual mailboxes, P.O. boxes, and other “delivery points” typically grows by 1 million or more each year (Pew Research). Although shipping packages to same-day shipping-obsessed-consumers generates some revenue, the USPS is approximately $160B in debt (Washington Post).

With the situation looking dire earlier this year, the Trump administration appointed Louis DeJoy, a North Carolina businessman and major Trump donor, as the new postmaster general, who immediately created sweeping changes to make the USPS a more viable business model (NPR). These changes include “prohibiting overtime pay, shutting down sorting machines early and requiring letter carriers to leave mail behind when necessary to avoid extra trips or late delivery on routes” (Washington Post). DeJoy made it clear that “if we [USPS] cannot deliver all mail” because of staff shortages, “the mail will not go out,” causing concerns about its accountability to the upcoming election (The Hill).

It’s important to note here that the U.S. Postal Service wasn’t designed to be a thriving and flourishing for-profit business like FedEx or UPS, but a public service democratizing access to information – uniting a nation across its vast terrain (Washington Post). This model, though, was made possible by using enslaved people at its start, perpetuating a long legacy of racism and discrimination through inequitable pay and lack of job security through its history. That conversation is for another newsletter (Smithsonian Institute).

These changes went into effect mid-July, so let’s look at how these changes are unfolding. Across the U.S., mail service is slowing and inconsistent. In Overbrook, a community in West Philadelphia, mail delivery is taking weeks, forcing citizens to go without paychecks and medicine (Inquirer). Boxes pile up in local offices without the capacity to sort and deliver efficiently. Anonymous supervisors told the Inquirer that they’ve been instructed to leave mail behind and prioritize the delivery of Amazon packages instead (Inquirer). According to Niche, Overbrook’s demographics are 78% African American, which emphasizes a point made by COLORLINES earlier this year: communities of color – particularly in rural communities – are more likely to rely on services the USPS provides, like checks through the mail, money orders, medicine, and necessary resources during COVID-19 (COLORLINES). Consequently, we can expect that they can be disproportionately impacted by voter disenfranchisement as the election nears.

And these broad political and economic decisions also burden the postal workers on the ground. Over 630,000 people work at the USPS and represent a more diverse workforce than most of America. 23% of Postal Service workers are black, 11% are Hispanic, and 7% are Asian (Pew Research). These essential workers are critical to our democracy’s future but have less support than they did before the pandemic. Across Philadelphia, at least 133 Postal Service employees have tested positive for the coronavirus since March, and two employees have died (Inquirer). Cases exacerbate the short-staffed individuals, and the lack of overtime may make it impossible for anyone to deliver mail. One carrier is working 90 hours/week and still unable to finish his routes (Inquirer). Conditions worsen as postal workers face angry and frustrated customers on the ground or inside post office facilities. And working conditions are harder with rules like reducing “park points,” or places where carriers park their trucks to walk packages to nearby homes. By decreasing the number of times workers can stop and rest, they’re more likely to be on their feet and exposed to the outdoor environment (Washington Post).

The House Oversight and Reform Committee called a hearing to examine recent changes to the USPS. They’ve asked DeJoy tor his testimony on Sept. 17 to “examine operation changes to the U.S. Postal Service” and “the need for on-time mail delivery during the ongoing pandemic and upcoming election, which as you know may be held largely by mail-in ballot” (The Hill). And as 18 states hold primary elections this month, we’ll have greater insight on how drastically the USPS can affect elections this November. One thing is clear: we must protect our right to vote by mail, especially for those most marginalized, and rethink the role of the U.S. Postal Service so it can continue to serve us fairly and equitably.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The impact of COVID-19 is encouraging more states to promote vote by mail to participate in upcoming elections
The Trump administration continues to note "tremendous potential" for vote by mail fraud, which is factually untrue
The USPS, under new leadership, is slowing mail delivery making it more difficult for communities to receive necessary mail, including vote in mail ballots
The USPS could play a role in disenfranchising thousands of voters in upcoming elections
The shifts at the USPS disproportionately impact communities of color

RELATED ISSUES

July 23, 2020 | Know our racist presidential history.

July 21, 2020 | Honor the legacy of Rep. John Lewis.

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

June 24, 2020 | Fight voter suppression.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/3/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/3/20

Stay awake.

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Happy Monday,

It feels a bit silly to write today’s newsletter for you – yes, you. Because if you’re reading this, you’re still here. Maybe it’s not by choice. Maybe, like me, you’ve been marginalized by white supremacy your whole life without a say. But perhaps you’re reading this, and you have the privilege to walk away from this work. Yet you’re still here. And for that I'm grateful.

Today’s newsletter looks at white fatigue against sleep deprivation and exhaustion in the U.S. I hope it helps put fatigue into perspective and encourages all of us to fortify ourselves for the necessary work ahead.

Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. Please consider giving one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon to help us stay sustainable for the months ahead.

Nicole

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Plan to have a tough conversation about race with your family member, friend or co-worker this week. Choose a topic from the Anti-Racism Daily archives to kick it off.

Research the sleep disparities in your state using this interactive map.

If you identify as non-white, take time to rest today if you can.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

It’s been just over two months sincere the protests started – 2 months since the Anti-Racism Daily launched – and you may have noticed that your social media feeds, Slack channels, and conversations in the office have gone “back to normal”. Some people feel “feed fatigue,” the concept of feeling overwhelmed by the pace and quantity of content on our newsfeeds. In this context, we’re talking about the fatigue that some people experience after reading and watching videos on racism, protests, and the global pandemic months on end.

But there’s a more insidious form of fatigue that might be prompting people to leave this movement. And that’s “white fatigue,” a term that, according to Joseph E. Flynn, author of White Fatigue: Rethinking Resistance for Social Justice and professor at Northern Illinois University, is defined as the following:

"A quasi-form of white resistance in which white folks are understanding that racism is wrong, but get tired and frustrated with conversation about race because of its complexity" (Refinery 29).

We’re all going through a lot right now, and being tired of it all isn’t a crime. But white fatigue in particular usually draws people out of the necessary work, causing attention to fade, movements to dwindle, and critical conversations on racism and discrimination to fall from the public eye. As we referenced in our email last week about Breonna Taylor, what we choose to rally behind in-person and online drives organic interest, which can often encourage media to pick up stories in the news and brands to pay attention (Anti-Racism Daily). It keeps pertinent conversations present in relationships and at the workplace. And it fosters the self-inquiry and reflection that we each need individually to drive collective impact. So even if white fatigue is valid, we can’t use it as validation to leave the fight.

Especially because right now America is in a deep state of fatigue. And some people are impacted more by fatigue than others. Generally, Americans have been losing sleep. Since 2013, data has indicated that we’re getting less sleep than the year before. As of 2018, one-third of U.S. adults said they sleep less than six hours a night, which is 15% more people getting less sleep than the year before (Reuters). Another study indicates that 30% of adults have insomnia (Sleep Foundation). But this spiral isn’t proportional across race and ethnic backgrounds. The Hispanic and Black communities were most likely to indicate a shift in sleep hours. In the survey, 31% of white survey participants, 42% of Black participants, and 33% of Hispanic participants were sleeping six or fewer hours (Reuters). Asian American teens are disproportionately less likely to get sleep than their non-Asian counterparts (CDC).

These disparities in sleep show up differently in cities and counties across America. Noise pollution in lower-income urban communities is prevalent. With fewer trees and more manufacturing or major transportation nearby, these areas (referred to in yesterday’s email as heat islands) tend to carry sound – especially when paired with many people living nearby (The Conversation). Urban areas tend to have higher homelessness levels, too, which makes sleep scarce for millions of people (Bloomberg). The CDC study also shows that regions in predominantly non-white communities are more likely to experience short sleep (CDC).

Sleep deprivation is a form of systemic oppression. Exhaustion is a form of oppression forced upon African Americans since the time of slavery to dehumanize and control a group of people and maximize their productivity output (LA Times). It’s also a misconception about Black people; Thomas Jefferson, for instance, thought that “Black people simply ‘require less sleep’ than whites” (LA Times). It’s why niv Acosta and Fannie Sosa, founders of Black Power Naps, believe that rest should be a part of reparations (Vice). Sleep deprivation has been used as a control tactic in immigration detention centers (PS Mag) and prisons (Washington Post). It’s also been wielded against people of color, mainly Asian communities, through the “model minority myth.” This outdated notion dictates that one must work hard and outpace others to overcome racial barriers and be seen as “equal” by dominant culture. This pinnacle of success is the level all non-white people should aspire to reach (Time). This stereotype can encourage people of color to overwork and outperform others, which places the burden of white supremacy on the individual’s breath and body instead of the system that created it.

These historical patterns of sleep deprivation create and perpetuate harmful health conditions for communities of color. Lack of sleep can create chronic health issues that can persist for a lifetime, including (and not limited to) Type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and depression (CDC). Lack of sleep during pregnancy can cause preeclampsia and increase the risk of complications at birth (American Academy of Family Physicians). These conditions – which can even persist generationally – are partially why the CDC named sleep issues as a public health epidemic back in 2014 (Sleep Dr).

And right now, sleep issues are amplified because of COVID-19. Although some studies indicate that a decreased morning commute has helped some people get more hours of sleep (Polar), others suggest that there’s been a 20% increase in insomnia since COVID-19 began (NCBI). There might be more time to sleep, but the stress, anxiety, and worry about current events decrease the likelihood of getting a good night’s rest (Current Biology). Not only that, COVID-19 symptoms, along with its lingering effects, both often include insomnia and fatigue (Science Mag). Notice the vicious cycle. The sleep disparities people of color experience can create pre-existing conditions that exacerbate contracting and dying from COVID-19, which can cause less sleep, which in turn, can worsen pre-existing conditions – all in a stressful and challenging time.

And consider how essential workers suffer even further. Many have to work longer hours, stay away from their families to reduce the risk of infecting others, and maintain erratic schedules as the virus persists. For example, a study in California notes that Latinx workers on farms and meat processing facilities often have to sleep in barracks on-location (Democracy Now). Many of the occupations considered essential right now are already on the list for the most sleep-deprived professions (Newsweek).

So when we feel quick to reference white fatigue, let’s be sure to acknowledge who in the U.S. has the right to rest. Some people in society have more privilege to choose to feel and respond to fatigue. And some choose to bow out of work to stay comfortable with their privilege. Because it can be challenging to continually dismantle ideas and practices that once felt safe and comfortable, actively choosing discomfort and growth in its place, but it’s necessary. Communities of color don’t have the luxury to decide how to engage in white supremacy. This work is a marathon and not a sprint. This is a call to fortify yourself for the long road ahead, especially for all those that have been exhausted for generations.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

White fatigue is when white people get tired and weary from understanding racism in America
America is facing a public health epidemic due to lack of sleep
Lack of sleep disproportionately impacts communities of color, and rest has been intentionally taken away from them throughout history
Active participation means choosing discomfort over privilege and showing up for all those that don't have a choice

July 19, 2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.

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

July 5, 2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.

June 21, 2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19

June 14, 2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/2/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/2/20

Protect those vulnerable to extreme heat during COVID-19.

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Happy Sunday!

During the hot summers growing up, my mom would sequester the whole family into the one room in the house that had an A/C. We'd hang sheets in the doorways to keep the air trapped in and play video games all day. I remember the wall of stifling air that I'd face when I'd pull back the curtain to run to the bathroom, always surprised by how hot it could get in our hometown. Now, I appreciate her ingenuity of keeping us cool.

Today's daily newsletter looks at the relationship between extreme heat and COVID-19, a new and formidable opponent in our global fight against the devastating impact of this disease.

Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. You can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon to help us stay sustainable for the months ahead.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Research to see whether your state has implemented and/or extended mandatory moratorium on utility shutoffs. If they have not, contact your state governor.

Find a local non-profit organization that offers financial assistance for paying energy bills. Share their work with your community by posting on social media.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

July was a particularly rough month for America’s battle with COVID-19. With over 150,000 reported deaths, most states are seeing either a second surge or sustained first surge since March. 42% of all known cases in the U.S. were reported in July alone, and as states grapple with the ended of increased unemployment, moratoriums on rent and utilities, and the difficult decision of back-to-school, another silent factor is driving the spread and severity of COVID-19: extreme heat (NYTimes).

It might not garner the same level of attention as other natural disasters, but extreme heat is one of the most deadly types of weather-related events in the US, killing an average of 702 people each year. The CDC reports that extreme heat kills more than hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes on average each year (excluding major natural disasters they cause). When people become overheated for extended periods of time, their bodies may lose the capacity to cool itself down. This leads to spikes in body temperature that can damage the brain and other organs (CNN).

Extreme heat is getting more extreme here on Earth. Since the Industrial Revolution nearly 200 years ago, the global average temperatures have risen by nearly 2 degrees Fahrenheit (UCSUSA). A new study on global warming indicates that, due to the reckless pace of human-caused carbon emissions, global temperatures could increase by 4.1 to 8.1 degrees Fahrenheit over the next five decades (Washington Post). And recent reports of unprecedented heat from Siberia to Antarctica (Washington Post), Britain (The Financial Times), and the Middle East (NYTimes) proves that the heat is here to stay.

This is a problem for everyone, but particularly communities of color, who are more likely to live in U.S. counties threatened by extreme heat (UCSUSA). The neighborhoods where they live are often concrete-heavy, dense urban areas with few pockets of greenery. These spaces, referred to as “heat islands” in a recent comprehensive study, can have temperatures as much as 22 degrees higher than their surroundings (Pew Trust). These spaces don’t just exacerbate heart, lung, and kidney disease – health conditions people in these communities are more likely to be afflicted with. They exacerbate the impact of air pollution, another critical topic we’ve analyzed in our COVID-19 newsletter series. And people of color have been corralled in these heat islands for generations because of historical practices of redlining, segregating non-white people into limited and inadequate spaces (Pew Trust). The elderly, already susceptible to the virus, are the most impacted by these disparities.

If Americans stay home, they might be able to beat the heat. A Citylab study from 2015 found that nearly 90 percent of American households have air conditioning of some sort (Bloomberg). These numbers drop slightly based on the age of the home itself; newer residential spaces are more likely to have central air, for example, and older buildings may have a window unit. And even for lower-income communities the number only drops to 75% of households with A/C (Bloomberg).

But lower-income communities, in particular, are struggling to make ends meet, and rising energy costs are a hefty addition to the budget. Estimates indicate that running an A/C all day can cost approximately $12/day, adding $370 to a monthly bill. I used the calculator to estimate my cooling costs for the year, including equipment, in a small space in Brooklyn, NY, and got a range of $3,600 - $5,600 (hvac.com). Millions of people are already behind on paying their power bills since COVID-19 started, so adding hundreds of dollars for lowering the temperature indoors might be impossible (NPR). And because most families are spending more time at home than they would have before COVID-19, they’re facing increased costs in power regardless if they’re running the A/C or not (NPR)

To counter this issue, many states implemented power shut-off moratoriums earlier this year – alongside eviction moratoriums and other initiatives to protect financially-strapped communities. But most of these power-shut off moratoriums were set to expire July 15 or August 1. Some states have extended, but 17 states – including Georgia, Florida, and Arizona – have no official moratorium in place at all, although some power service providers have created moratoriums of their own (NEADA). As extra unemployment benefits end, analysts fear we may be approaching a “tidal wave” of power shutoffs in the midst of this extreme heat (NPR).

So these communities would spend time elsewhere – gathering at the local library or mall, hanging with friends, or frequenting coffee shops or restaurants. In some places, these spaces are closed altogether. But most cities have tried to keep them open to offer respite from the heat. These spaces, often referred to as “cooling centers,” may be a risky place to visit. New reports indicate that airborne transmission “plays a major role” in spreading the virus. Infected droplets can take about 30 minutes to sink from the mouth of an adult of average height to the floor (NYTimes).

To counter airborne viruses, ventilation is key. But ventilation is tricky in common residential or commercial spaces focused on keeping precious cool air in. Simple A/C and HVAC units may accelerate the spread of the virus by constantly circulating the infected air around a room. Benjamin Cowling, the head of epidemiology and biostatistics at the University of Hong Kong School of Public Health, studied a case of infections at a restaurant in Guangzhou where an asymptomatic COVID-19 patient infected nine other people. The people infected were at other tables and never came into contact with the patient. But each sat in the direct line of the air conditioner, which was blowing air from one end of the restaurant to the other (The Atlantic).

Solving ventilation problems can be relatively easy – locations can upgraded filters in their HVAC systems, or use portable HEPA filters to catch airborne particles as they circulate (The Atlantic). The CDC has offered an additional list of precautions for “cooling centers” to protect others, including buying PPE for guest use, cleaning frequently, maintaining social distance, and raising awareness. And as temperatures lower across the country, it will be easier for locations to open windows to encourage fresh air. But closed and cool spaces can still be dangerous, and may themselves be impacted by the growing burdens of power costs.

Extreme heat isn’t just a public health issue. It’s a key part of the disparities that make racism a public health crisis. August tends to be a hot, if not hotter, month across the country so we can expect the burden of extreme heat and its intersection on COVID-19 to persist. We’ll see the same disparities come into play in the winter, when it’s warmth – not cooling – that’s costly and difficult to navigate with ventilation. We must rally for the people in our communities most impacted by the fluctuations in temperatures in the months ahead.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Extreme temperatures exacerbate the impact of pre-existing conditions that influence the severity of COVID-19
Communities of color are more likely to be impacted by extreme temperatures
Inadequate ventilation can increase exposure to COVID-19
Energy costs can make it more difficult for lower-income communities to stay cool

July 19, 2020 | Rally for representation in science and research: COVID-19 and CDC.

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

July 5, 2020 | Support the Navajo Nation through COVID-19.

June 21, 2020 | Protect essential workers: Racial Disparities of COVID-19

June 14, 2020 | Learn how racism is a public health crisis.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/1/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/1/20

Study Hall! Racist actions, doulas, and intersectional change.

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Happy Saturday! It's Study Hall, our weekly recap of the content we reviewed through Q&A and additional resources shared by our community. We covered a wide range of topics, so we have a lot to dive into. Remember – you can submit a question by responding to this email for the week ahead!

You can also get weekly discussion guides for your workplace or university by subscribing to Anti-Racism Daily at Work. Quickly onboard colleagues, track their progress, and use the topics mentioned to create strategic change internally and the community around you. Learn more: antiracismdaily.com/corporate

We're posting daily recaps on Instagram @antiracismdaily. And stay tuned for more Study Hall sessions on our Patreon starting next week! Excited to keep learning with you.

This newsletter is a daily labor of love and I appreciate every contribution. You can give once on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon to help us stay sustainable for the months ahead.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.

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

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Read the past week's content on the archives

June 31, 2020 | Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.

June 30, 2020 | Support Black maternal health.

June 29, 2020 | Protect public workers.

June 28, 2020 | Denounce anti-Semitism.

June 27, 2020 | Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.

June 26, 2020 | Pay attention to the Portland protests.

An Asian American friend was called a racial slur by a Black person. How should society deal with racism from other marginalized communities?
From Support Asian Americans through COVID-19 on July 27

In short – in the same way we handle racism from dominant culture. Any type of racism, regardless of the perpetrator, is harmful. And because we've all become assimilated to a society with racism at its core, it's frustrating yet unsurprising that marginalized communities would apply the same discrimination and harm against each another. We touched on this a bit in the anti-Semitism newsletter we published the day after we received this question.

Anti-racism expert Ibram X. Kendi explains this well in his book How to be an Antiracist, which is required reading for this work, in my opinion. You can get a snippet of this topic in a 2019 interview with CNN.

Katie's post referenced that she doesn't believe BIPOC people should have to constantly be compared to white people. You often use the term non-white. Why use that term if it may continue to exacerbate that issue?
From Support Asian Americans through COVID-19 on July 27

First, it's important to note that our shifting use of "BIPOC" or "non-white" or "Black and Brown" or "people of color" reflects the perspectives of our writers (both our staff and the news we're quoting and referencing). All terms aim to identify a community that is often impacted by dominant culture, which is majorly influenced by whiteness.

I personally prefer to use "non-white" in those scenarios, and since I write most frequently, you hear it most often. To me, it intentionally separates so many communities not from white people, but the whiteness that has the power of normal in our society. It does name an entire group of diverse, multi-cultural people against whiteness itself, which can absolutely be considered a form of erasure. I just hope it reminds us why we're having the conversation in the first place. But I'm going to keep learning about this; language is important and I don't want to cause further harm.

Do you have suggestions on how to validate the pain of Jewish silence and the fact that being Black is more stigmatized than being Jewish, without inadvertently feeding into anti-Semitic sentiment?
From Denounce anti-Semitism on July 28

There's no reason we can't have complex, nuanced conversations on how racism and anti-Semitism show up at the same time. If we allow the anti-Semitism in the Black community and anti-Blackness in the Jewish community to divide us, we're both allowing white supremacy to win. And the impact of white supremacy won't discriminate between the two. Both communities will suffer.

So right now, we have an incredible opportunity to unite in favor of common goals and objectives, see our similarities over our differences, and commit to the deep and necessary healing to keep moving forward, together. If part of that includes, as you're referencing, focusing on the needs of Black people right now based on current events, then that just prioritizes one action item of many to tackle on the list.

The critical work of doulas to support equitable maternal health.
From Support Black maternal health on July 30

This isn't a question, but a powerful response from Heather on how necessary doulas for the advancement of maternal care. I didn't touch on doulas in this newsletter; I tried to stay focused on the direct political changes that our government can make, and plan on focusing on doulas in another newsletter. But let's start that conversation now! I've shared Heather's thoughtful response below:

One way we can help advocate for the rights of birthing people is to make sure they all have access to a birth doula!

Doulas advocate for their clients rights, provide informational, physical & emotional and support to the birthing family. We significantly reduce the likelihood of negative outcomes for all birthing people. Sadly many women don’t even know what a doula does or the benefits. And many more can not afford one, despite the fact the most doulas are willing to work with a payment plan or sliding scale.

Currently, due to Covid, most hospitals across the US have told their clients they can only have one support person while birthing in the hospital. Of course, most people are going to choose their significant other. Myself and other doulas are working hard to pass legislation that makes doulas an essential worker, so that hospitals can not ban us from supporting our clients. I have personally witnessed via virtual care, my clients rights ignored during this time. Something I KNOW would not have happened if I were present in the room.

Actions I and other are working on so that every birthing person who wishes to have a doula can-
1. Have insurance companies 100% cover the costs. It is only in the insurance companies benefit since it significantly reduces health risks and negative outcomes.
2. Pass legislation that hospitals can never ban a birth doula from the birthing setting and is not counted as a visitor but an essential employee

I found a change.org petition advocating for doulas to be considered essential workers that you can sign here.

Do you have any advice for what people in other countries can do in situations like this? I’m Canadian and I want to help (and have donated to causes) but because a lot of petitions call for your zip code and to call your political representative in the US, I feel like I can’t be that effective. Is it better to keep sharing posts about her or to find issues like this in my own country / area instead?
From Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor on July 31

We're considering expanding the Anti-Racism Daily to other countries, as we know it's frustrating that we cover mainly U.S. based news! Thanks for your patience as we continue to plan.

Generally speaking, I recommend looking for ways to tackle the same issues in your own community – whether you're abroad or in the U.S. Breonna Taylor's story isn't unique – there are many Black women who still fight for justice. Consider who the Breonna Taylor is in your community, or more critically, who could be the Breonna Taylor in your community? What practices and policies make it easy for harm to happen on vulnerable populations like Black women where you live? And how can you take action each day to prevent it?

CLARIFICATIONS

From Support Black maternal health on July 30
My piece on Black maternal health failed to note that transmen and gender non-binary individuals are also impacted by the racial disparities of maternal care, not just cisgender Black women. Thanks for the catch, Stephanie!

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/31/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/31/20

Keep fighting for Breonna Taylor.

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It's Friday and today's a great day to keep fighting for Breonna Taylor. Were you expecting a different punchline? Then maybe you’ll enjoy today's newsletter on the memeification of Breonna Taylor and what we must do as we fight for justice.

Although it's disheartening to write once again about Breonna Taylor, I also know that all of her killers are still walking free. And because of that, I must use my voice to keep advocating for her – and for all of us that have the privilege to still be here, and benefit from the changes that are coming. How do you choose to use yours?

We'd love your support to keep our reporting growing! Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Sign the Color of Change petition to demand that all police officers involved in the death of Breonna Taylor are fired.

Donate to the Louisville Community Bail Fund, and aid the protesters still rallying in Breonna's hometown.

Call Kentucky's local official and the public integrity unit of the Louisville Metro Police Department to demand the officers involved in Breonna's death are fired and charged with her killing. Go to StandWithBre.com and tap the button on your mobile phone and they will call for you!

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

O Magazine is ending regular print magazine issues in December 2020 to adopt a digital-first approach (Hollywood Reporter). But for the first time in 20 years, Oprah herself isn’t on the cover. Instead, this month’s cover is dedicated to Breonna Taylor, who was murdered 140 days ago by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove after they entered her home with a no-knock warrant while she was sleeping and opened fire (The Cut). Although one of the three officers have been fired, the other two are only on administrative reassignment, and none of the officers face criminal charges (NYTimes). The magazine commissioned 24-year-old digital artist Alexis Franklin to create the cover, and she used a well-known selfie Breonna Taylor took shortly before her death (Washington Post).

You may have seen this photo on the cover because it’s been all over social media – in fact, Breonna Taylor’s name and image have been widely shared through memes, gifs, text-based posts, and more since the protests. Earlier this week, the controversial 'Women Supporting Women' Selfie Challenge dominated timelines when women encouraged others to share a selfie in black-and-white (Elle Magazine). Many people decide to use the moment instead to share photos of Breonna Taylor (The Lily). Echoes of calls for justice are heard in protests on the street, in window signs, and amplified by celebrities. Beyonce penned an open letter to the Kentucky State Attorney General (Beyonce). The WNBA dedicated its entire 2020 season to honoring Taylor and the Say Her Name movement (KPBS).

Breonna was murdered in March 2020, but her story became a key narrative in the Black Lives Matter protests in May, with specific attention towards how little press her story had received. Although Blavity and The Root, two major publications that focus on Black stories, published articles about her story in late March, mainstream news sources didn’t pick up her story until late May (used Google Search results for this one). Although the intense coverage of COVID-19 during this time likely played a factor (Courier Journal), many believe it’s our country’s longstanding tenuous relationship with Black women that minimize police brutality like this (PBS). And until we see more accountability for her death, we can expect that her story will continue to resonate with allies and activists as the anti-racism movement progresses.

But are all these memes and tributes and cover takeovers helping, or hurting? Some believe that these statements don’t do her life and legacy justice. And the statement “arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor,” a popular catchphrase, is misleading, according to film and culture pop critic Cate Young (Jezebel). How exactly is the community supposed to achieve that while they’re scrolling through Instagram? The more pertinent actions – like the ones in today’s Take Action section – are shared significantly less.

And what is the creator intending to do when posting a meme like this on social media: raise awareness about the injustice of over-policing Black women, or gain some easy likes? And the memeification of violence against Black women is perpetuating the same systems of discrediting and minimizing that pain (which we touched on briefly in yesterday’s Anti-Racism Daily).

“When she’s diluted down to a glib, cutesy meme it’s a dishonor to her. She was very much a real person, with real thoughts and dreams and dislikes. She leaves behind a world of hurting family, friends, and acquaintances”.
Christine Boyer, writer, for Jezebel

Others believe that these subliminal messaging shift perceptions and encourage action in a time where many people’s newsfeeds have gone back to normal. Allissa Richardson, a journalism professor at USC Annenberg and author, believes that it’s a powerful way Black people can trick the algorithm to hold conversations that advance critical issues that may otherwise go ignored (Washington Post). And when conversations persist, media pays attention, drawing the conversation back into the press cycle. (It has compelled me, too, to write about Breonna Taylor again for the Anti-Racism Daily. Very meta).

The power of media in this movement brings to mind the strength of Emmett Till’s mother for holding an open casket, putting her son’s mutilated body on display for the whole world to see. The photos, which were published in Jet Magazine and circulated broadly from there, forced America to confront the brutality of the racism that may have been easy to overlook (view the photo and corresponding story in Time Magazine). Unlike the memes of Breonna, these images were chosen by the family and approved to share, not user-generated memes with their own branding and hashtags. But for the time, these images achieved something similar to what we’re seeing today: it’s impossible to look away. But we shouldn’t need a meme to draw our attention back to injustices against Black women. It’s our responsibility to share these stories with respect and care, and continue the fight for justice even when we’re not reminded to while scrolling through Instagram.

Like the story of Breonna Taylor, the perpetrators of the murder of Emmett Till walk free. In fact, the Emmett Till Legacy Foundation, which was created by family members of Till and other community members, is asking the community to sign a petition to hold Carolyn Bryant Donham, the woman that falsely accused Emmett Till of a crime he did not commit, accountable. Learn more about Emmett Till and his story in our Anti-Racism Daily on lynching, and sign the petition here.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

It has been 140 days since Breonna Taylor was killed by Louisville Metro Police Department officers Jonathan Mattingly, Brett Hankison, and Myles Cosgrove
Oprah joined a long list of celebrities, activists and individuals using their platforms to call for justice
The memeification of Breonna Taylor is helping to keep Breonna’s name in the media – and perpetuate the same systems that harm Black women
We must leverage our platforms to center the needs of other with care and grace

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/30/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/30/20

Support Black maternal health.

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Happy Thursday!

I have to say, the challenges I know Black women face through the pregnancy process has discouraged me from having kids of my own. I'm incredibly grateful that this work is happening in Congress. Today's newsletter only scratches the surface of the racism people of color experience related to maternal health, and as I wrote this email it morphed into three more! But I do know that if we improve Black maternal health, we'll make maternal health more accessible for everyone.

We will keep reporting on racism until it doesn't exist anymore. And we'd love your support to make that happen. Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Sign the letter to show your support for the reproductive justice movement.

Share the resources from the Birth Justice Toolkit to raise awareness about the importance of reproductive justice.

Contact your senator and urge them to support the Black Maternal Health Momnibus using the letter found here.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

Amid the racial reckoning of 2020, leaders and allies in the reproductive justice movement are calling for action. Congresswomen Alma Adams and Lauren Underwood launched the Black Maternal Health Caucus in April 2019, which has blossomed into a comprehensive initiative for Black maternal health rights. This includes the Black Maternal Health Momnibus, a compilation of nine bills that aim to address the disparities in access and treatment for Black people. This work calls for “reproductive justice,” a term created by a group of Black women (the Women of African Descent for Reproductive Justice) gathered in 1994 to create change based on not just reproductive rights, but social justice.

Learn more about the Black Maternal Health Caucus with Rep. Lauren Underwood in this podcast with the American Hospital Association >

And this level of action is long overdue. In the United States, women are more likely to die from complications of pregnancy and birth than in any other high-resource country. Black and Indigenous women are 2x to 3x more likely than white women to die (Every Mom Counts). And although Black women make up about 13% of the female population, they account for nearly 40% of maternal deaths (NYTimes). The campaign behind Black maternal health, organized by Every Mom Counts, puts it simply: “racism, not race, is killing Black, Brown, and Indigenous people in our maternity care system” (Every Mom Counts).

This insight is not new. The gross disparity of mortality rates between white and Black communities has existed since the U.S. started collecting data in 1850 (NYTimes). Prominent sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois wrote about this in his book “The Philadelphia Negro” in 1899 and mourned the death of his baby son in “The Soul of Black Folk” a couple of years later (NYTimes). But the collision of COVID-19 and the protests exacerbated decades of searing inequalities, highlighting the limited access and poor care that Black people receive from hospitals (NYTimes).

There have also been more documented stories of Black women experiencing discrimination – and worse – through their maternal health journey. Kira Johnson went to the hospital for a routine C-section. She suffered from internal bleeding for ten hours before the medical staff at Cedars Sinai took action, and ultimately lost her life (4Kira4Moms). Serena Williams publicly shared her horrifying experience giving birth in Vogue Magazine, and Olympian Allyson Felix testified in Congress about a traumatic birthing experience of her own (Washington Post).

It’s clear, as we covered in one of our earliest newsletters, that our society has a long way to go to respect Black women. We saw that with the coverage of the death of Breonna Taylor and other cis and trans women murdered during the protests (Anti-Racism Daily), and watching that unfold with the violence against Megan Thee Stallion, a prominent Black female artist (Jezebel).

As a result, Black, Ingenious, and other cisgender, transgender and gender non-binary people of color are left unheard in the conversation on reproductive justice. A recent article in the NYTimes garnered controversy when young activists expressed how their focus on reproductive rights is different than the feminist movement of the 1970s, which centered the needs of more affluent white women. Instead, they feel more compelled to address immediate, ‘life or death” situations that endanger the rights to access and opportunity for those services (NYTimes).

“A lot of the language I heard was about protecting Roe v. Wade. It felt grounded in the ’70s feminist movement. And it felt like, I can’t focus on abortion access if my people are dying. The narrative around abortion access wasn’t made for people from the hood”.

Brea Baker, an activist and organizer in Atlanta, for the NYTimes

But here’s the thing: data suggests that the majority of maternal deaths are preventable. Expanding Medicaid coverage before delivery and post-partum can prevent two-thirds of maternal mortality (NYTimes). Data from the CDC shows that this coverage is critical, particularly after childbirth. Lower-income mothers are eligible for Medicaid, which supports 40% of all pregnancies in the U.S. Still, coverage expires shortly after their child is born – although the coverage varies widely by state. Women of color are more likely than white women to be covered by Medicaid, so this disparity contributes to the high mortality rates for Black women (KFF). Studies prove that consistent support throughout the pregnancy decrease mortality rates and increase the health of mother and child (NYTimes).

Increasing health insurance coverage is part of the movement (and is one of the nine bills included in the Momnibus). But so is addressing the broader, systemic aspects of racism that affect Black maternal health long before someone decides to have a child. Everything from the environment to the stress of racial microaggressions, housing insecurity, unequal pay, access to transportation and healthy food, and many other factors influence one’s opportunity to have a healthy pregnancy and birth.

So as we do this work, we must remember that reproductive justice extends beyond the hospital. Reproductive justice is means solving environmental racism (New Security Beat) and dismantling the harmful practices at immigration detention, including the forced separation of families and barring access to necessary medical support (American Progress). It means abolishing the over-policing of Black, Indigenous, and people of color (Every Mother Counts). And most importantly, it means listening to Black women and centering their needs, especially when transforming maternal care.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Congresswomen are passing a series of bills to support Black mental health, supported by dozens of leaders, allies, and activists in the reproductive justice movement
Black women are disproportionately more likely to experience poor maternal health
Although lack of coverage plays a major role, the systemic impact of racism – from treatment at hospitals, to police brutality, unsafe environments and more – affects Black maternal health
We need to listen to Black women and center their needs, in this movement and all others

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/29/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/29/20

Protect public workers.

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Happy Wednesday!

Many of the topics we cover at the Anti-Racism Daily are a tale of history repeating. I don't think anything is more evident of this than today's topic. As we watch essential workers be celebrated in the press, it's critical we rally for their health and well-being, too. The liberation of all people, especially those most marginalized, depends on equal rights re: workers protection and fair pay.

I'm grateful to the work of Daytrian Wilken and Emily Yellin, and the time they spent answering questions for today's newsletter. Let's use the actions they recommended for today to carry their work forward in our communities.

This newsletter runs on donations from our community. Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing. Many thanks to all that have supported so far!

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Sign the petition to support the New Orleans Sanitation Workers

Donate to the GoFundMe to support the New Orleans Sanitation Workers

Support local journalism in your community

Honor and recognize the work of the sanitation workers in your neighborhood

GET EDUCATED

Essential workers are being celebrated as “heroes,” but they are systematically disadvantaged from fair and equitable employment. This dichotomy is well-illustrated in the New Orleans Sanitation Strikes, where, since May, dozens of workers, or “hoppers,” have walked off the job to fight for their rights. According to their strike flyers, each worker carries 250,000 lbs of waste a week and is paid only $10.25/hour, without benefits (Strike Flyer). In contrast, a living wage in New Orleans for a family of four is $26/hour (nola.com).

Their demands are simple: $15/hour wage, weekly hazard pay of $150, proper PPE equipment (necessary for both general work and working through a global pandemic), and fair representation with management. The New Republic points out that this sanitation is the fifth-deadliest profession in the U.S. In 2019, 37 sanitation workers were killed on the job, and nearly 1,500 were injured (CNBC).

Our nation has been fighting for the rights of sanitation workers throughout history. In fact, the 1968 Sanitation Strikes in Memphis changed the trajectory of the Civil Rights movement. It began in February of 1968, when two workers, Robert Walker and Echol Cole, were killed in a faulty garbage truck, one of six trucks that should have previously been phased out of the fleet (The Root).

The city refused to compensate the families of the victims, which sparked outrage. At the time, sanitation workers (who were overwhelmingly Black men) were already working long hours for low wages, many making as little as 65 cents an hour. There was no overtime or paid sick leave, and injuries on the job could result in the employees’ termination (Washington Post). Eleven days after these deaths, 1,300 black sanitation workers walked off the job demanding that the city recognize their union, increase wages, and improve inhumane conditions (Stanford).

The strike gained national recognition when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a prominent advocate for the working class, joined the fight in March of 1968 (The New Republic). It was here that King delivered his famous “Mountaintop” speech (AFSCME) and was assassinated the following evening (Washington Post). Days later, Coretta Scott King led over 40,000 people in a silent march, and finally, on April 16, the Memphis City Council agreed to meet the workers’ demands (Washington Post). Please read the full timeline of the events that happened during this strike over at the AFSCME website.

“One day, our society will come to respect the sanitation worker if it is to survive, for the person who picks up our garbage, in the final analysis, is as significant as the physician, for if he doesn’t do his job, diseases are rampant. All labor has dignity”.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., to sanitation workers on strike in Memphis in 1968

Interview with Daytrian Wilken and Emily Yellin

The 2020 Sanitation Strikes garnered national recognition in a NYTimes op-ed. The piece was written by Daytrian Wilken, the spokesperson for the City Waste Union in New Orleans, in collaboration with Emily Yellin, who produced the video series “1,300 Men: Memphis Strike ’68” for The Root.com. I asked them how the community can rally to support these workers – and sanitation workers in our own neighborhoods.

How can community engagement help to create lasting change on these issues?

Emily: During the 65-day Memphis strike in 1968, the Black community rallied around the sanitation strikers, even as the white community essentially ignored their needs. Black churches, businesses, and neighborhood groups set up food drives and raised money to support the men and their families on strike. Without that, the men would not have been able to stay on strike long enough to get most of their demands met. The GoFundMe for the New Orleans hoppers today is the 2020 equivalent of that and can gather support from the whole world.

Also, the reasons for the strike need to be spread to customers of the sanitation department, who are also the constituents of the city's political leaders. If citizens are outraged at the way the men who pick up their garbage are treated, that will go a long way toward supporting the needed systemic change. Only then will the community help ensure that the men get what they are demanding, now and for future generations of workers.

Daytrian: Community engagement can help us because the community is who we serve. We can't do this alone so, it's gonna take the community to support us in a way they never have before. After all, we are the community too.

How can we advocate for the rights of the sanitation workers in our own community?

Daytrian: Advocacy truly only requires support. Support the people in your community. Show them you love them. If it's raining outside, offer some towels. If you see them passing, you can offer something cold to drink.

This work is grueling and daunting and is truly hard work - these guys just want to be cared for. Also, ask what they make an hour. Here's an example of something I do in my own neighborhood: In a container there are 10 disposable masks, 3 Powerades, 3 towels because it was a rainy day, and a bottle of hand sanitizer.

Emily: As a journalist, I think it is very important to support local journalism, through subscriptions, local papers, or donations to nonprofit news outlets that are covering this strike fairly, and giving voice to the men and their communities. One of the problems in Memphis 52 years ago was that not enough people were aware of the conditions the men were enduring because the white-dominated press didn't cover that part of the story. So when the men went on strike, the white community, in particular, had very little empathy for them.

In 2020, Individuals have more power to share messages directly from the men and the union to their neighbors and friends over social media. So awareness is the first step. But once you are aware of injustice, it is important to act to change things. Spreading the word and showing up to support the men are good ways to start advocating for their rights. Letters, petitions, and even tweets to politicians and business leaders do mean something now. Those kinds of small acts of advocacy add up. And when they reach critical mass, that is part of how change usually happens.

Everyone pitching into the sanitation worker's fight is a way of realizing how we are all connected as humans living together on this planet. And I think this is where it is important to remember to act in the name of Fannie Lou Hamer's famous saying, ‘Nobody's free until everybody's free’. That is as true in New Orleans in 2020, as it was, up the Mississippi River, in Memphis in 1968”.

The Anti-Racism Daily branding is rooted in this story. The typeface you see in our brand name, the headers of this email, and throughout the website is inspired by the protest signs from the 1968 sanitation strike. Protestors carried posters with the statement “I AM A MAN,” a phrase from the 18th-century abolitionist movement, at a time Jim Crow South still referred to Black men as “boys”. And signs with the same statement have been carried by the protestors in 2020 New Orleans Sanitation Strike. Read more on our website >

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Since May, the City Waste Union in New Orleans has been on strike advocating fair wages and job protection for sanitation workers, or "hoppers"
Their efforts mirror the 1968 Sanitation Strike in Memphis, which changed the trajectory of the Civil Rights Movement
Both then and today, the liberation of Black people and other people of color is tied to fair and just labor practices for public workers

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/28/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/28/20

Denounce antisemitism.

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It's Tuesday! And we're unpacking the rise in antisemitism and the history of the divide – and unity – between the Black and Jewish communities. Antisemitism runs deep in white supremacy, but today's newsletter focuses specifically on the hateful rhetoric shared by prominent Black men in the media. As a Black woman, it pains me to see how our experience with racism doesn't always make us more sensitive and empathetic to other forms of discrimination and violence.

This newsletter runs on donations from our community. Consider giving one-time on our website, (or Venmo @nicoleacardoza), or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing. And a major thank you to all those that have supported so far.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Join the #NoSafeSpaceForJewHate and #48HoursSilence boycott on Twitter.

If you identify as Black and/or Jewish: Talk about how anti-Blackness or antisemitism shows up with your family. How can you commit to advocating for that community's needs? Have the recent events detracted you from the other's fight for justice?

GET EDUCATED

Antisemitism in the News

The news has been filled with antisemitism rhetoric, much of which has been perpetuated by high-profile, Black men. Some examples in the media include the following:

On July 4th, Louis Farrakhan used his platform on YouTube for his annual Criterion Speech. In the speech, he blames Jews and their control and power for the “ills of the world.” The speech reached over 200, 000 viewers digitally (YouTube).
On July 6th, DeSean Jackson of the NFL’s Philadephia Eagles shared anti-Semitic tweets, one of which claims to quote Hitler (C NN).
On July 16th, Nick Cannon, the host of Fox’s “The Masked Singer,” was fired from Viacom after an anti-Semitic conversation with longtime anti-semite and rapper Richard Griffin (Newsweek).
Over the weekend of July 26, British rapper Wiley posted a string of anti-Semitic comments, prompting the #NoSafeSpaceForJewHate and #48HoursSilence walkout on Twitter (CNN)

These instances align with a concerning rise in antisemitism over the past couple of years. The Anti-Defamation League's annual audit determined there were 2,107 antisemitic incidents in 2019, a 12% increase from the 1,879 that were recorded in 2018, and many organized by white supremacist organizations (ADL Website). But racial tensions have long been fraught between the Black and Jewish communities, most notably in cases like the Crown Height riots of 1991, which began with the death of a 7-year-old Black boy (Atlantic), and the brutal attack at a Hasidic rabbi’s home in Monsey, N.Y. (NYTimes).

This influx in antisemitic rhetoric by Black people in the midst of a racial equity movement begs us to question and examine the relationship between Black and Jewish communities. Although both communities have experienced discrimination, displacement, terror, and trauma by the same white supremacist groups (Forbes), relations between them are tenuous and stem from a deep history of misconceptions.

Antisemitism and Blackness

The rise in antisemitism within the Black community often stems from disparities in economic opportunity and religious centrism. But first, it’s important to note that many of the ideologies that were used to oppress and discriminate against Jews were the same ones used to dominate and control Blacks after the transatlantic slave trade. This is an insight that Malana, who refers to herself as a “Black & Jewish educational fairy godmother,” explained in a comprehensive tweet thread that's been featured by major publications. She takes us through history from the beginning.

“Historically, the very idea of racism initially came from Spain and its treatment of Jews during the Inquisition,” she wrote. “These types of racial codifications were later used to entrench chattel slavery in what would become the U.S.” (Twitter).

Malana Krongelb has been sharing consistently about Blackness and anti-Semitism. Follow her at @malanasqueendom.

Indeed, some of the first set of discriminatory laws based on race were written in 1449 in Spain. The birth of these laws set forth a chain of events that later resulted in other laws, like the Jim Crow laws of the South, used to subjugate and control a different group of people because of their race (Atlas Obscura).

Economic Opportunity

Lee Sigelman from George Washington University argues that the economic success of Jews and their historical presence and power within financial systems perpetuates negative attitudes towards Jews, especially from Black men, as Black people in America have been historically disenfranchised and denied access to wealth and wealth accumulation (JSTOR).

Many Jews were the key stakeholders to loans or homes that Black families wanted and needed. With the wide-spread discrimination of Black families by the banking and real estate industries, many people in the Black community expressed resentment towards Jews and their position of economic power (JSTOR).

Cannon mentioned “The Rothschilds” in his podcast interview, a reference to a long-held stereotype against Jews. The Rothschilds were a prominent Jewish family and banking dynasty that spanned across and controlled Europe for the greater part of 200 years. The patriarch, Mayer Rothschild was known as “The Founding Father of International Finance” (Britannica). When people talk about “The Rothschilds,” it is a reference to the perceived power and dominance Jews have over financial, political, and other major global systems.

But it's important to note that not all people in the Jewish community are bankers and financiers. Furthermore, Malana notes that “many Jewish people in Europe were forced to work in banking because of laws restricting them from entering other types of work,” and “it was the racist/anti-Semitic structures that pushed Jewish people into that system in the first place” (Twitter). This unfair stereotype perpetuates the racist rhetoric between communities.

Religious Centrism

The belief of being a “chosen” people is also something shared by many in the Black and Jewish communities, but its result is discord. Henry Goldschmidt of Wesleyan University posited that Blacks and Jews “use narratives of biblical history and Israelite descent to define what is typically described as their ‘racial’ and ‘religious’ identities— and conversely use race and religion to support their claims to Israelite history and define themselves as the chosen people” (JSTOR).

This religious centrism puts them directly at odds with one another. Some members of the Black community have expressed the desired ownership over the term “Semitic,” which means “relating to or denoting a family of languages that includes Hebrew, Arabic, and Aramaic and certain ancient languages such as Phoenician and Akkadian, constituting the main subgroup of the Afro-Asiatic family” (Oxford). But, as Malana emphasizes, one group’s liberation is not dependent on the erasure of another (Twitter).

Anti-Semitism, Anti-Blackness and Whiteness

The important thing to remember when analyzing the relationship between the Black and Jewish communities isn't the differences, but what they have in common. Antisemitism, like anti-Blackness, are both rooted in whiteness and white nationalism, regardless of who expresses it. Our system is designed to pin communities against one another, and often, marginalized communities attack each other to grapple for relative power that feels more accessible than the whole. The notion that a group can be "better" than another is in itself a concept started and perpetuated by white nationality and Christianity (Newsweek).

And when conversations about one marginalized community turning against another dominate the headlines, it shifts the responsibility away from the majority, eschewing them from responsibility. Tablet Magazine notes that, despite the tabloids in January 2020, there is no evidence that Black Americans are driving the rise in antisemitic violence, which was re-iterated in the data from the ADL audit mentioned above (Tablet Mag).

Intersectionality as a Black Jew

It's also easy to forget in this narrative there are over 200,000 Black Jews in America who may feel forced to pick sides (J Weekly). The stories of one community against another can erase the intersectionality of many who identify as both Jewish and non-white (among many other types of social locations and identities that cause further marginalization). In these cases, in particular, it’s important to listen to the stories of Black Jewish people, who are facing both anti-Blackness and antisemitism in everyday life. Story Maps shares more examples. Malana herself noted that “a lot of Black trolls have been coming at me saying I am only saying this because I am anti-Black, and that I am anti-Black because I am mixed race” (Twitter).

“I know lots of white Jewish people are racist. I know lots of Black people are anti-Semitic. I know these communities have hurt each other and I know from personal experience it is much harder to be Black in the US than it is to be Jewish. But all oppression is connected”.

Malana Krongelb, educator and writer, via Twitter

Despite all of this, Black and Jewish communities are often united together as allies (CNN). Many Black civil rights leaders have rallied against anti-Semitism and violence against Jewish people (Tablet Mag). And the two communities have always been powerful when we've rallied together to fight injustices throughout history (Newsweek). We must commit to denouncing antisemitism along with other anti-racism movements to ensure that we dismantle systemic oppression for all.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

There's been a rise in antisemitic language over the past couple years, accelerated by recent hateful rhetoric by prominent Black men
The Jewish and Black communities have had a tenuous relationship, despite the commonalities in their experience
Pitting marginalized groups against one another can eschew the responsibility of racism and discrimination from those most privileged and powerful
The liberation of one community is impossible without the liberation of another

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Nicole Cardoza 7/27/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/27/20

Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.

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Happy Monday! Thank you for all your kind requests to support the process of consolidating our content – I'll be going through them and following up this week!

We're back to our weekly series on COVID-19 (usually published on Sundays) and looking at the spike in anti-Asian racism that's growing at the pace of the virus. Thank you to Katie for sharing her story here with us today, and sending love to everyone in this community that's dealing with this violence. Full COVID-19 reporting here >

Many of you have mentioned that Gmail keeps hiding this newsletter in your Promotions tab. Apparently, that's happening to a lot of BLM content (h/t to Jason for sending this along). But it's a 5-second fix on a desktop computer. Here's how to do it.

Contributions to this project are always appreciated. Give one-time on our website, through Venmo @nicoleacardoza, or pledge $5/month on our Patreon to keep this work growing.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Ensure your company has implemented anti-discrimination policies that protect Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders using this PDF.

2. In your next few interactions with people who are different from you, bring awareness and acknowledge the prejudice or disregard you might initially have about this person based on their surface categorical group (their race, sexual orientation, or gender)...then move beyond that. What else do you notice about this person’s character?

3. Don't refer to COVID-19 using the racist terminology mentioned in this newsletter.

GET EDUCATED

The onset of COVID-19 in early March set off a dramatic spike in anti-Asian racism. The Stop AAPI Hate Reporting Center, organized by the Asian Pacific Policy and Planning Council, has tracked over 1,900 self-reported acts of anti-Asian incidents from March 13 – June, and hundreds more from California and Texas since (A3PCON). 58% of Asian Americans feel it’s more common to experience racism now than it was before COVID-19, and 31% have been subject to slurs or jokes because of their race or ethnicity (Pew Research). A recent Pew Study reports that since COVID-19 about 40% of U.S. adults believe “it has become more common for people to express racist views toward Asians since the pandemic began” (Pew Research).

Our president has played a role in this, applying his divisive approach to conversations around COVID-19, choosing to refer to it as “Chinese virus,” or “kung flu,” consistently. Press noted he used “Chinese virus” over 20 times between March 16 and March 30 (NBC News). I found a source where he agreed to stop using the term in late March to “protect our Asian American community in the United States,” but keeps using it, most recently in late July when he finally encouraged citizens to wear a mask (Bloomberg, CNN). These terms have also been perpetuated by the media and the general population.

I know we’re probably all tired of talking about Trump. I sure am. But, as we’ve discussed in previous newsletters, language matters. And there’s a long history of North America and its leaders using false narratives to associate Asian Americans with diseases to "justify" racial discrimination and violence. In the late 19th century, many Chinese and Japanese people immigrated to the U.S. and Canada for the gold rush, along with immigrants from the UK and Europe. Their labor was indispensable for the growth of infrastructure alongside the West Coast, but they were also paid terribly compared to their white American counterparts (The Conversation).

As Chinese communities began to grow, white communities turned against them, fearing they would take their jobs and disrupt their quality of life. They ostracized them by blaming Chinese people for diseases – like syphilis, leprosy, and smallpox – growing in the region. This was entirely untrue; poverty, not race, is more accurately correlated with the spread of diseases. Despite that, Canada created a Royal Commission on Chinese Immigration and concluded that "Chinese quarters are the filthiest and most disgusting places in Victoria, overcrowded hotbeds of disease and vice, disseminating fever and polluting the air all around,” even though they knew themselves it wasn’t accurate (The Conversation). This spurred violence and hateful rhetoric, but political changes, too: the U.S. passed the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882, and Canada followed with their own Chinese Immigration Act in 1885. These were the first law for both countries that excluded an entire ethnic group (AAPF).

“Viruses know no borders and they don’t care about your ethnicity or the colour of your skin or how much money you have in the bank.”

Dr. Mike Ryan, Executive Director of the World Health Organization, for Newsweek

We chatted with Katie Dean, an educator currently working in the tech space, for her perspective of the anti-Asian racism and our country’s history of violence against Asian Americans.

By Katie Dean

How has COVID-19 impacted you?
I was the first person I know to start self-isolating in early March. I was reading international publications, and I saw what was happening in other parts of the world. Out of respect for the suffering and loss Italy, Iran, and China endured, I decided the most responsible thing I could do was stay inside. In my life, I’ve chosen meaningful work over monetary success. I give up my seat on the bus for elderly people. I’m also funny, sharp-witted, and fanatically clean.

Why am I listing all of this? Because right now, who I actually am, doesn’t matter. When I walk out into the world, I am judged by my face. And currently the face of an Asian person, to some, is synonymous with COVID-19, the virus that has taken loved ones, the virus that’s brought the global economy to a crashing halt, the virus that has exacerbated every conceivable racial and socioeconomic disparity. And this hurts, on a profound level.

The last thing I’m eliciting is pity. This is what all BIPOC people endure. This is the same experience people resembling someone of Middle Eastern descent have endured since 9/11. This is what Black people have endured systemically since 1619. This paragraph is just for illustration.

And how has this racism shown up in your life before COVID-19?
On multiple occasions, while I was in high school, a lifelong white friend would look at me, really seeing ME for the first time, and after years of friendship, in a moment of reckoning say, “I finally see you as white.” At the time, my fourteen-year-old self felt a sense of pride and acceptance in those moments, a sense of belonging. As I’ve advanced in my understanding of race, and how my race has shaped my experiences, I look back and am horrified by what these statements in fact meant.

When my white friends said, “I finally see you as white,” what they meant is “I finally see you as human,” and what that translates to is that “white and only white people are able to be fully human, fully themselves, fully individual”. This construct also implies that all non-white people are all somehow “less than” until it’s decided by white people that they are acceptable. Well, BIPOC and other marginalized groups have no interest in our humanity being measured against the white measuring stick.

Where do you believe we need to go from here?
Dehumanizing others, throughout the entire course of human history, is what’s allowed the worst atrocities to take place. The psychology of seeing whole groups of people as less than human, is what allows and justifies egregious mistreatment, apathy towards suffering, and irreverence to the genocide of these other groups. This is currently happening on all fronts, against all BIPOC as well as the LGBTQ+ communities.

Breaking down systemic racism will be the greatest battle we face, spanning many lifetimes. But addressing who we assign and don’t assign individuality to, the basic respect of recognizing the unique human in others, is critical work we can all start immediately to dismantle racist behaviors within ourselves.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The onset of COVID-19 in early March set off a dramatic spike in anti-Asian racism.
The U.S. and Canada have a history of accusing Asian Americans of disease as one of many ways to discriminate and incite violence against them.
Our country's practice of "othering" has caused significant harm to Asian Americans, which is exacerbated by the current racial discrimination during COVID-19.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/26/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/26/20

Pay attention to the Portland protests.

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Pausing our Sunday series on COVID-19 to address the urgent protests rising across the country. It feels important to address the historical context and implications of what’s unfolding on the ground right now. Especially since this newsletter was started as a "work in protest" in response to the death of George Floyd. Get updated on the latest news and its historical context.

As always, donations to this daily newsletter are always appreciated. Make a one-time contribution on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also pledge $5/month on Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Support the Black Portland Youth Movement raising funds to support protestors on the ground.

2. U.S. Residents: Get clear on your city's stance on federal agents, and contact your local representatives to discourage egregious intervention by federal agents.

GET EDUCATED

Protests swelled across the country last night in support of Black Lives Matter and against federal policing. Local Portland police called last night’s protests a riot, deploying tear gas (KGW8). An intense protest in Seattle resulted in 45 arrests and 21 wounded officers (Seattle Times). An Austin protestor was shot and killed (Statesman). A police station in Oakland was vandalized (ABC News). Meanwhile, Trump is sending more federal agents to Seattle and D.C. (Business Insider). Although the Trump administration aimed to quell protests by adding police, there are more people on the street in Portland now than ever before (Vox). And this rise in activity nationwide may indicate that there is much more tension to come.

The administration is also planning on sending federal agents to Chicago, Kansas City, Albuquerque, and possibly other major cities, including New York and Philadelphia, to deal with increases in gun violence (The Nation). Chicago, for example, is now on track to have its deadliest year regarding gun deaths since 2016, and local organizers believe the compilation of the protests, COVID-19, increasing unemployment rates, and distrust in police are all contributing factors (NYTimes). Chicago mayor Lori Lightfoot initially expressed concern over the presence of “secret, federal agents,” but, after speaking to Trump, invited them to come, pending that they work in conjunction with local law enforcement (Time). This program, called “Operation Legend,” has been criticized as ineffective, and considered more of a publicity stunt that comprehensive change (Washington Post).

The protests in Portland have been fueled by its people still grappling with the city’s dark history of racism. The mid-1800s were a divisive time for the region, as settlers traveled west on the Oregon Trail, dissatisfied with the tensions over slavery on the East Coast. Although some brought freed Black people and liberal views, most were committed to creating an all-white society. Consequently, laws passed to prohibit slavery. Black people were ordered to leave the region. And those that didn’t were to be “severely whipped by not less than twenty or more than thirty-nine stripes” every six months until they left (Oregon Secretary of State). The KKK thrived here, becoming major voices in the local government and ensuring further racial discrimination. In 1923, the state passed the Alien Land Law that banned Japanese land ownership, despite the fact that Japanese Americans already only held less than one percent of Oregon land in 1920 (Oregon Secretary of State).

Although these laws have since been reversed, their lasting impact is still seen in Oregon’s capital. Portland is currently the whitest city in the country (out of the country’s largest 30 cities) with 72% of its population classified as non-Hispanic white (NYTimes). Today the average income level for Black families in Portland is nearly half that of white residents (NYTimes).

“The xenophobia, the racism, the caustic narrative that has been fomented at the national level are also having an impact here and adding to that legacy here in Oregon”.
Dani Ledezma, the interim executive director of the Coalition of Communities of Color, for the NYTimes

Critics note that this historical exclusion of Black people and other people of color has made it difficult for the state population to recognize and act against racial discrimination (University of Oregon). And even now, as the Trump administration plays out a political agenda on the streets of Portland, Black leaders worry that these protests, with overwhelmingly white crowds, may co-opt the conversation around race, leaving the needs of the Black community and other people of color behind (The Guardian).

Before federal agent intervention, protests in Portland were steady, but diminishing in scale. After weeks of protests and political action by citizens, sparked by the death of George Floyd, the City Council passed a budget that cut $15 million from the police budget for the upcoming fiscal year (Oregon Live). The head of the Portland Police Bureau stepped down, and a federal judge enacted a ban against tear gas used by local law enforcement, except when life or safety was at risk (NYTimes).

Some of these federal agents are from the Federal Protective Service, a uniformed security police division of the United States Department of Homeland Security. The agency is designed to provide security at federal properties, and agents have been sent to Portland, Seattle, and D.C., to guard statues, monuments, and federal property as protestors topple them (that we reviewed in a previous newsletter). But the Border Patrol Tactical Unit, a subset of the Customs and Border Protection (CBP) agency, was seen in their camouflage uniforms beating and detaining protestors (Business Insider). And their tactics of brutal force, lack of identification, and appearing and dragging people into unmarked vans, is disproportionately targeting immigrant communities and communities of color (NYTimes).

Federal policing is against the 10th Amendment of the Constitution, which states that “powers not granted to the United States were reserved to the States or to the people” (JUSTIA). But the Department of Homeland Security does have the right to assist local law enforcement, and since the Trump administration passed an executive order protecting American monuments, there is legal ground. The DHS authorized this initiative themselves in a document published on July 20 (Lawfare). And if this weekend’s protests are any indication, we can only expect tensions to increase. Learn more about the legality of this intervention in this New Yorker interview with Carrie Cordero, a senior fellow at the Center for a New American Security and a CNN contributor.

Beyond the demonstrators on the ground, many people are calling for justice. The Oregon state attorney general sued on behalf of the protestors, U.S. District Judge Michael Mosman said the state “lacked standing” because the lawsuit was a “highly unusual one with a particular set of rules’ (Time). But the U.S. District Judge Michael Simon blocked federal agents in Portland from dispersing, arresting, threatening to arrest, or targeting force against journalists or legal observers at protests, in response to a lawsuit filed by the ACLU of Oregon (ACLU).

It’s clearly unsettling that a movement founded in advocating for equitable law enforcement has led to federal agents patrolling cities with little oversight. And protests are a critical component of how a democracy advocates for change. If it weren’t for protests, we wouldn’t have made as much progression the critical issues of race in our time. It’s critical we protect our right to protest in this unprecedented time.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Protests are rising because of the federal agents the Trump administration is sending to major cities
The forefront of this conversation is happening in Portland, a city with a dark history of racism
Federal policing is against the Tenth Amendment
Protests are a key component to change

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/25/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/25/20

Study Hall! How to be a better ally, petitions, and plastics.

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Thank you, thank you for your thoughtful questions this week. We get some nasty mail (who knew Trader Joe's was so controversial) so I truly appreciate every kind inquiry mixed in. Today we're diving deeper into all the key themes we outlined this week.

For the new readers, we know there's a lot of content to catch up. We're working on organizing the first 50 days of content into a book or course for easy review. Interested in helping us out? Send a message!

We're posting daily recaps on Instagram @antiracismdaily and will be holding more Study Hall sessions on our Patreon starting next week! Excited to keep learning with you.

This email is free but you're welcome to make a one-time contribution on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.

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

GET EDUCATED

You referenced the criticism that a white / white-passing person advocating for TJs to change their packaging. How should white allies support movements, then?
From Don't Americanize other cultures on July 22

It's important to center the voices of marginalized people in any movement. Sometimes, intentionally or otherwise, allies will co-opt movements already started by people of color. Often white allies, benefiting from their power and privilege, will gain more attention and progress with this movement, and consequently, the voices of BIPOC people get lost in the mix.

I was surprised that Bedell's petition didn't mention Viviane Eng's article – or the fact that Trader Joe's had already responded to Eng and said that actions to change the names were in progress. I also was surprised to see that there weren't any quotes from people of color on their perspective, or any co-creators of the petition that identified as people of color. As a result, it is Bedell that is centered in the press and interviews.

This example is relatively harmless, but often, it can lead to more dire consequences – like workplaces creating new programs and initiatives without the input of the people impacted, or political movements that don't reflect the needs of the communities experiencing harm. When doing the work, ask who else needs to be in the room. Consider who may already be doing the work, and how you could amplify them instead of creating your own campaign.

The petition for the bridge name isn't what all the local leaders in Alabama want, but you encouraged us to sign it anyway. Why?
From Honor the legacy of Rep. John Lewis on July 21

Petitions are powerful for a few reasons, even if they're not successful. First, they help raise awareness of issues, especially as they grow in popularity. They're also good for swaying public opinion. In this case, more encouragement towards Governor Kay Ivey to change the name isn't a bad thing! Also, signing a petition keeps us all informed of how the issue progresses after it passes from the headlines, and I think this is an important conversation to stay subscribed to. You can learn more about the power of petitions in the NYTimes. One of you lovely readers sent me a WHOLE email about the power of petitions weeks ago, but it's now lost in my inbox. If you're reading this and remember sending, kindly forward to me again!

Also, remember that signing a petition doesn't magically make things change. Alabama local leaders are the ultimate decision-makers in changing the name of the bridge, so have full capacity to make the decision. I am hoping that the creator of this petition is planning on working with the community, and not create a massive battle to have it done his way. I noticed after I wrote this email that there's now a nonprofit organization attached to the cause. It doesn't have any team listed on the website, so I'm not sure about any local representation behind it.

If I had seen a petition that was designed for the local community, I would have added that in its place. Either way, I feel that our efforts overall are more useful in advocating for the Voting Rights Advancement Act, but I know some of you already did that from our voter suppression newsletter! I try to give multiple ways for us to take action so we can get in the practice of doing so.

My family and I decided that moving to X community is best for our budget and lifestyle, but it's a gentrifying neighborhood and we would be part of gentrification. What should we do?
From Protect your community from the harm of gentrification on July 20

It's great that you're recognizing that you're part of the problem. Whether or not we like to admit it, we are all working in a systemic that's inherently inequitable and often complicit. That's why this work is so critical.

I shared this resource at the end of the newsletter, and it's worth revisiting in full:
https://newrepublic.com/article/144260/stop-gentrification

And also recommend this article about gentrification in SF:
https://www.sfgate.com/expensive-san-francisco/article/gentrification-sf-oakland-san-francisco-vallejo-13293754.php

Put short, be prepared to take on the responsibility of protecting this new community from harm. Get involved in local politics and support community organizers advocating for housing justice. If that sounds like too much work or too much of a burden, consider whether you deserve to join that community at all.

There's no 'get out of jail free' card. You can't do all the right things and absolve yourself so that you're no longer a gentrifier, just like you can't no longer be white. But you can check your biases, acknowledge your privilege, and fight the systems that create gentrification.

Megan Orpwood-Russell, an organizer for housing advocacy group YAH! (Yes to Affordable Housing!) in SFGate

Trump is a racist president! And Biden is racist, too! What president HASN'T done something racist?!
From Know our racist presidential history on July 23

Trump had a whole newsletter dedicated to him back in June, and Biden isn't a president, but yes, as many of the resources we linked to state, is not perfect. (Biden will get much more coverage here as the election nears). And if the exercise made you realize that perhaps all of our presidents have become complicit in practices and policies that uphold systemic racism, including Barack Obama, then the exercise worked. And although some presidents have clearly been much more egregious in the harm they've created, we have to understand how we got here, how we're still here, and how necessary it is to choose differently this time 'round.

Also it's important to note that presidents alone are not responsible for systemic racism. In fact, take this same level of criticism to your local representatives and policy makers, many of whom are perpetuating the same systemic oppression in your local community.

Why should we still recycle if it's not working? Especially if environmental racism is bigger than ourselves?
From Reduce your plastic consumption on July 24

Individual actions are critical to the work we do, even if we're collectively not making progress. The articles mentioned that decreasing our consumption can fundamentally transform the future, so it would be a miss not to hold ourselves accountable.

Changing environmental racism systemically calls for much broader initiatives that, in this case, weren't directly rooted in plastics. But don't you worry – we'll be doing much more to address environmental racism in our work moving forward.

If you're ever reading this and think "goodness, we should also be doing this and this and this" as part of our daily action, that's amazing. Do it! Especially if you see ways to address these issues in your own community. We're working to add more localized actions to our newsletters, but right now we've got readers signed up from all over the globe and very limited targeting options. However, you can sign up for ARD Actions based on your community by texting "ARD LOCAL" to (718) 715-4359.

Also, kudos to Leigh and Cody for noting that our first action could have been worded better – because not consuming plastics altogether is more important than finding eco-friendly alternatives. Don't throw out something old to replace it with something eco-friendly! Cody recommended the following change:

Choose one product that you own that's made of (or packaged in) plastic. Use it until it is broken or exhausted, and then once it breaks either don't buy a new one or replace it with an eco-friendly alternative. Here's a list of Black-owned eco-friendly products.

CLARIFICATIONS

From Know our racist presidential history on July 23
The internment of Japanese-Americans in California indeed happened in World War II, not World War I as our article states, which will be fixed in our archives. Thank you to the reader that pointed out that internment also happened throughout the Southwest, not just in California (Archives).

Miscellaneous
A reader noted that our emails have readability issues in dark mode. I'll update our template to fix that for the week ahead.

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Nicole Cardoza 7/24/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/24/20

Reduce your plastic consumption.

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Happy Friday! We all have a tendency to buy, purchase and consume various things throughout a single day without thinking twice about where they came from, who labored to create them, how they were produced, and what communities and ecosystems are impacted by their disposal.

Did you know this month is Plastic-Free July? Welcome to the work of creating a world free of plastic waste. “The Plastic Free July campaign was started in 2011 by Rebecca Prince-Ruiz in Western Australia who later founded the not-for-profit Plastic Free Foundation Ltd in 2017” (CNN).

When thinking about the way we do or don’t consume, it is important to acknowledge how cultures, access, and beliefs shape our relationship to things. I hope today’s newsletter helps you reflect on your own consumption habits and waste.

Chante Harris, Guest Contributor

Your contributions are greatly appreciated. If you can, consider making a one-time gift on our website or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon.

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Choose one product that you own that's made of (or packaged in) plastic. Pledge to replace it with an eco-friendly alternative. Here's a list of Black-owned eco-friendly products.
Choose one plastic free action from the Plastic Free Foundation and commit to doing it through the end of August.
Subscribe to at least one environmentalist of color. The Collective Resiliency Summit taking place on July 31st is a great place to start.

GET EDUCATED

By Chante Harris

It’s Plastic Free July, an initiative designed to help us reduce our global consumption of plastic. But Evaluating Scenarios Toward Zero Plastic Pollution, a paper published by Science on Thursday, July 23, indicated that our efforts to reduce plastic waste are "wildly insufficient" (Fortune). Let’s take a closer look at the intersection of plastic, waste, and environmental racism.

8% to 10% of our total oil supply goes to making plastic, in fact, an estimated 12 million barrels of oil a year are used just for making plastic bags used in the U.S. (1 Bag at a Time). The Science paper notes that humans are unloading 29 million metric tons of bottles, bags, and microplastics (little bits smaller than 5 millimeters) into the oceans annually, equaling 110 pounds per beach meter (Science). Consumed and undesired plastic products typically end up in either landfills, incinerators, the environment, or a recycling facility.

Plastic products are often consumed more in lower-income BIPOC communities, due to the taxpayer-subsidized low sales prices that incentivize companies to use it (Sierra Club). But these communities are often under-resourced to properly dispose of plastic waste than a high-income area (Wired). Together, these factors place marginalized communities at greater risks of consuming toxic chemicals in the plastic such as bisphenol A (BPA) and microplastics than more resourced areas (Sierra Club).

And all waste does not impact communities equally. Landfills have historically been placed in or near BIPOC neighborhoods. One of the distinct characteristics of garbage incinerators in the United States is that they are often sited in communities of color and low-income communities, also referred to as environmental justice (EJ) communities. 58 Municipal Solid Waste (MSW) incinerators – 79% of all incinerators in the U.S. – are located in environmental justice communities (Global Alliance for Incinerator Alternatives (GAIA).

The incineration industry is a key demonstration of infrastructure strategically positioned in certain communities and not others. Environmental advocates have recognized for decades how these waste facilities prevent environmental justice. They also contribute to the cumulative and disproportionate pollution placed on communities of color and low-income communities (Tishman Environment and Design Center).

A few years back I had the pleasure of working on the East Harlem Healthy Neighborhood Action Plan and it became clear to me as I explored social determinants of health further that climate change and public health were not two separate communities. Communities with little to no landfills, incinerators, trucking, and bus depots have lower rates of asthma and cardiac disease. Additionally, studies show that where more incinerators are located there is a decrease in recycling, composting, and waste reduction due to perverse incentives to burn more waste.

“There is no such thing as ‘away’. When we throw anything away, it must go somewhere”.

Annie Leonard, The Story of Stuff

The disproportionate impact of environmental threats on Black, Indigenous, and people of color is referred to as environmental racism. Environmental racism exists as the inverse of environmental justice, when environmental risks are allocated disproportionately along the lines of race, often without the input of the affected communities of color (The Atlantic). It is important to acknowledge that those impacted the most by the climate crisis are victims to decades and centuries of norms, values, regulations, behaviors, and policies that have made it this way today.

The Anti-Racism Daily has covered other topics related to environmental racism in our recent coverage of COVID-19, including air pollution and the needs of the Navajo Nation.

“In terms of defining environmental justice, we have to start from the beginning, as you don’t have justice without injustice first. Environmental injustice for Native people is about being forcibly cut off from their source of life sustenance. Native people are inseparable from their lands in terms of their cultures and their identities”.
Dina Gilio-Whitaker, Indigenous Scholar and Journalist, for Gizmodo

Since the late 1900s, the environmental movement has been pushed to center the knowledge and lived experiences of people of color. The reduction of the number of plastics used will lessen the unfair burden diverse communities carry. If everyone worked to decrease their use of plastic, we would be able to decrease fracking substantially, preserve wildlife, protect coastal communities, and improve the health conditions of BIPOC communities across the globe.

In 2020, people still have a tendency to view the causes of climate change as separate from their daily actions. And although it’s clear that policies accelerate these disparities, we still need to do our part. Let’s analyze our consumption as an environmental and anti-racist act. The future of a just and green planet relies on every single person, particularly those with access to resources, to take action that calls for larger societal changes.

Chante Harris
Chante is an urban innovation and civics champion scaling sustainable and impactful technologies and ideas that cultivate the world we all want to live in. She has worked to scale nationwide campaigns, technologies, and ideas for the Obama Administration, Fortune 500 companies, and startups that prioritize community and solve complex urban problems. She is also the co-founder of Women of Color Collective in Sustainability (WOC/CS).

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Despite our efforts to reduce plastic consumption, a recent study indicates our progress is insufficient to make change
The consumption and waste from plastics disproportionately affects BIPOC communities
Environmental racism is a term that analyzes how environmental risks are allocated disproportionately
We need to look at our eco-conscious efforts as both environmentally-friendly and an act of anti-racism

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 7/23/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/23/20

Know our racist presidential history.

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TAKE ACTION

Choose one U.S. President and research their lives, using the following guidelines:

How did this president support the livelihood of non-white people in America?

Which laws / policies did they establish (or rescind) that affected the rights of non-white people?

How did they demonstrate racism on an interpersonal level?

What actions did they take that created or upheld systems of advantage based on skin color?

Share what you learned on Facebook or Instagram using the hashtag #antiracismdaily so we can all learn from each other.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

In a virtual town hall with the Service Employees International Union yesterday, Biden bluntly said that Trump is the country’s first racist president, admonishing his racist statements against the Asian community when referencing COVID-19 (Washington Post).

“No sitting president has ever done this. Never, never, never. No Republican president has done this. No Democratic president. We’ve had racists, and they’ve existed, they’ve tried to get elected president. He’s the first one that has”.

Joe Biden

Trump has been wielding racism for political gain (which we covered in a previous newsletter) for his entire presidency, so I can see the strategic value of Biden doing the same. And since polarizing statements grab headlines (another tactic Trump uses), big statements like this get people talking about Trump’s impact as a president. I also appreciate that Biden’s statement says what many other political leaders and media have been afraid to – that President Trump is racist (especially because, as the Washington Post notes, Biden has tiptoed around naming this in the past).

And although I can see the strategic value, I don’t condone it. Because here’s the thing. Racism is not just a political tactic. Racism is a global pandemic. Racism is a public health crisis. Racism murders innocent people, incarcerates vulnerable youth, and displaces entire communities. It robs us of our right to breathe and leaves us with trauma that lasts generations. So as we watch racism unfold during election season, don’t let its effect on the polls come before its impact on those most marginalized. Yes, we need to vote. And we need to keep doing the work to dismantle systemic oppression each and every day.

Also, Biden’s statement isn’t true. Trump is absolutely racist, to be clear (and has not “done more for Black Americans than anybody with the possible exception of Abraham Lincoln”). But so are many other presidents from our history. For starters, 12 of our nation’s presidents — over 25% — enslaved people during their lifetimes. Of these, eight held enslaved people while in office (History). Aside from John Adams and his son John Quincy Adams, every president from George Washington to Ulysses Grant owned enslaved people (History). Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of the U.S., once offered $50 for the return of a runaway enslaved person and $10 extra “for every hundred lashes any person will give him, to the amount of 300” (Associated Press). He also focused on forcibly removing Indigenous communities from their tribal lands towards the west, creating the “Trail of Tears,” a treacherous 5,000-mile route that Indigenous communities were forced to use (Business Insider).

But it doesn’t end there. Woodrow Wilson used his time in office to re-segregate multiple agencies of the federal government, creating “separate but equal” facilities at the Department of Treasury, Post Office Department, and Railway Mail Service. He personally fired 15 out of 17 black supervisors in his own service and replaced them with white people. The head of the Internal Revenue division in Georgia fired all his black employees, saying, "there are no government positions for Negroes in the South. A Negro's place in the cornfield." And by 1914, all job applications for the federal government required a photo to be considered (Vox).

FDR supported the internment of Japanese-Americans in California during World War I (NYMag). Nixon believed in a hierarchy of races, with whites and Asians much higher up than people of African descent and Latinos, which influenced his policy decisions on welfare reform in 1971 (The Atlantic). George H.W. Bush’s “War on Drugs” disproportionately, and intentionally, targeted people of color (Harvard).

And while we’re here, let’s take a quick look at the White House real quick, which was also built by enslaved people. At least nine presidents brought their existing enslaved people to live at the White House as "chefs, gardeners, stable hands, maids, butlers, lady’s maids, valets, and more" and lived in uncomfortable, damp, rodent-infested spaces (White House History).

“I wake up every morning in a house that was built by slaves”.
First Lady Michelle Obama, 2016 DNC Speech

There are so many more instances we can add to this list, but I think you get the point. And remember that the goal isn’t to create some type of competition to choose the “most racist president”. That’s the wrong line of thinking. Any type of racism, no matter how nuanced, still creates and perpetuates systemic racism. Instead of trying to minimize or maximize harm on a scale, we must acknowledge all of the instances of racism our presidents have contributed to the foundation of our nation.

Some people will argue that because things back in the day “weren’t consider racist,” they don’t count as we look at history with a modern-day lens. But racism is not up for interpretation. Racism, by its standard definition, means “a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race” and “a political or social system founded on racism” (Merriam-Webster). And there’s evidence of this weaved into every example mentioned above – both the individual prejudice our nation’s presidents had, and how they used them to create and reinforce systems. Regardless of how many people felt during this time period, or what these actions were called, racism was still very much happening, lying the foundation for the inequities we experience today.

And this definition of racism doesn’t paint the full picture. The definitions Merriam-Webster offer demonstrates how racism perpetuates, but not the imbalance of power that comes with it. And as we know after reading the Anti-Racism Daily for the past 50 days (🙃) it’s the disparities that stem from racism that disproportionately affect non-white people in our society.

That’s why Kennedy Mitchum, 22 years old at the time, emailed Merriam-Webster to ask them to expand the definition to further define racism as “a system of advantage based on skin color” (The Atlantic). From her perspective, “there is a system, and then there is individual bias. There are structures that perpetuate racism and then people who give in to that system. These two things should go hand in hand” (NYTimes). Her insight may be why more people have been using the term “white supremacy” when discussing racism to emphasize the imbalance. The dictionary company agreed with Mitchum’s definition and should have an updated entry shortly (NYTimes). So re-read the examples above and consider – how did these presidents contribute to the systems of advantage people experience based on skin color today?

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Biden called Trump our "first" racist president, which doesn't acknowledge the long line of racism in our nation's leadership
Even if we didn't call actions from past presidents racist back then, they're still a part of the racism in our society today
Any type of racism, no matter how nuanced, still creates and perpetuates systemic racism.
Our definition of racism is evolving to account for the power that some benefit from as a result of racism
Trump is still racist and we're still not voting for him this November

Related Issues

June 29 | Don't vote for Trump.

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Nicole Cardoza 7/22/20 Nicole Cardoza 7/22/20

Don't Americanize other cultures.

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Hi friends!

I find the nuances of this story interesting. Somehow, it touches on gentrification, race privilege, and cultural appropriation across multiple ethnic and racial identities.

It also represents one of the many subtle ways systemic oppression persists. It's the multitude of these actions and behaviors that shape our society, and understanding each of them helps us dismantle, one small step at a time.

Donations are always welcomed to help keep this going. 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

Check your kitchen for products that may use similar branding as the products listed below. Consider:

What does this packaging tell me about the brand?
How can the packaging help me learn more about the culture(s) this product is connected to?
What assumptions, if any, does this packaging bring?
How does this packaging compare to others within its category?
Who or what have I tried to repackage to make it more palatable? How?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

This week Trader Joe’s renewed its pledge to discontinue racist packaging on international food products (Teen Vogue). The interest was sparked after a petition was circulated by high school senior Briones Bedell, which received over 2,500 signatures before a response (change.org). The product lines in question include “Trader Giotto” (Italian products), “Trader Ming” (Chinese products), “Trader Joe San” (Japanese products), “Trader José” (Mexican products), “Arabian Joe” (Middle Eastern products), and even “Pilgrim Joe”, that represents Thanksgiving products.

But conversations on inappropriate names of Trader Joe’s products are not new. In fact, Viviane Eng, a writer and the literary program’s assistant at PEN America, wrote a comprehensive article for Nylon Magazine on the issue back in July 2019, and Trader Joe’s swiftly responded, pledging to discontinue the packaging (Nylon). Critics note that the 2020 petition was created and amplified by a white/white-passing woman, questioning whether it is her place to build a movement around this issue. This sparks a similar conversation from yesterday’s newsletter: Who deserves to lead conversations about racist symbols: the people with the most proximity to power, or the closest to the issue itself? Today’s case also offers a critical point for allies here: work with marginalized communities and elevate their voices when rallying for change.

Reclaiming Culture through Names

Both conversations from 2019 and now show that customers are split on their sentiment about the packaging. Some people cited in both Eng’s article and on the petition itself emphasize that they have no issue with the name and don’t see any issue with it, calling it funny and cute. Others feel it exoticizes the cultures connected to the food, especially by applying Americanized names and branding in place of true cultural representation. Eng notes that by adding names like "Ming" and "José" for certain products reinforces "Joe" and English-speaking whiteness as the default (Nylon).

"
It's not my favorite," another shopper, Alé, admitted. "I'm of Mexican heritage, and it's just that weird moment of othering. It's, like, my food could just be Trader Joe's as well. It doesn't have to be Trader José. It also doesn't lend to any authenticity because it's just a very Americanized thing to do.

Nylon Magazine

We’ve got a long history of that in America. Ethnic names are often used to mock or degrade racial or ethnic groups and to perpetuate racist stereotypes in film and media (History). In workplaces and colleges, individuals with non-Anglophone names are asked to adopt nicknames, or change their names altogether (here’s a recent example in Time). And there are countless examples of people from various backgrounds changing their names throughout history to improve job prospects and assimilate as a form of safety (The Conversation).

Have you changed your name or adopted a nickname for reasons like these? Share your story to be included in a larger piece on this we’re publishing next week.

And Bedell notes in her petition that the inspiration for the Trader Joe’s name itself is rooted in “romanticizing Western Imperialism and fetishizing non-Western people”. The Trader Joe’s website states that the name was inspired by the book White Shadows in the South Seas (and the Disneyland ride that shares it). But the book “demonstrates the horrific legacy of trading companies as they exploited and enslaved the South Pacific in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Many of these regions are still at a disadvantage today because of how traders ravaged their peoples, their societies, and their natural resources” (Change.org). The realization that the names are housed within a larger company with this narrative only further emphasizes the point.

The 2020 petition was well-timed; many food brands are disassociating from racist branding, an action sparked from the protests over the past few weeks. It’s wild how frequently I type the latter half of this sentence; so much of our culture and politics have shifted because of public outcry. Remember this as you watch your timelines go back to normal – make each day a revolution.

Quaker is dropping the Aunt Jemima branding after recognizing they promote a racial stereotype (Washington Post). Her image was actually based off of Nancy Green, who received a full obituary in the NYTimes last week. I recommend you read her story. The company that runs Uncle Ben's and Mrs. Butterworth's are following suit (CNN). In April, the Land O’ Lakes butter company announced that it is changing its branding from an illustration of a Native American woman with a feather in her hair to something that reflects its “farmers owned” approach (NYTimes).

And for good reason. There are studies that prove that these types of symbols can have a negative psychological impact. The American Psychological Association published a resolution recommending the “immediate retirement” of Indigenous mascots, symbols, images, citing that they create “unwelcome and often times hostile learning environments” and have “a negative impact on the self-esteem” of Indigenous youth (apa.org). On the flip side, adolescents with authentic connections to the cultural background of others are more likely to display fewer stereotypes and more positive attitudes toward others (Wiley Online Library).

Food is Central to Culture

The packaging of food might feel like an irrelevant place to make a statement, but food is such a critical component of how many of us express our culture – and understand the cultures of others. As a grocery chain known for its breadth of low-cost products, how Trader Joe’s presents those foods makes a lasting impression of the cultures they represent. This is especially critical, considering that Trader Joe’s are usually found in up-and-coming (or gentrifying) communities, to the point that the value of houses near Trader Joe’s locations is almost 3x the national average (Business Insider). How else is Trader Joe's as a company participating in the erasure of culture as an organization?

There’s no clear timing for when the replacement of packaging will be completed (or even what it will look like) (NPR). In 2019, Kenya Friend-Daniel, Trader Joe’s Director of PR, emphasizes that “these designations do not appear on any new products we have introduced in the past two years, and as we make our way through label updates on older products, we will change any preexisting variations to Trader Joe's” (Nylon). It’s likely they’re still working their way through the hundreds of product lines with this branding. Bedell updated the petition on July 19 asking for a firm date (change.org).

Lastly, it’s important to note that only one major news source that covered the petition mentioned the work of Viviane Eng (Teen Vogue, which has completely transformed since I was a teenager). As we continue to do this work, we must aim to center the voices of all leaders and contributors towards change, especially the voices of marginalized communities.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Trader Joe's renewed its commitment to ending all Americanized branding lines of international product
The conversation swelled after a petition was circulated a few weeks ago
A similar story was published last year, and received similar feedback from Trader Joe's
Food represents a significant part of culture
Changing names against a default reinforces the idea of "power of normal"
Allies must remember to work with marginalized communities and elevate their voices

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