Make an election safety plan.

Good morning and happy Monday. Because of the weight of this election on the safety and health of the U.S., we'll be following updates as it unfolds and offering ways you can take action. I hope that today's newsletter gives you a broader approach to organizing to prepare for whatever's ahead.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also donate monthly or annually on Patreon. If this email was forwarded to you, you could subscribe at antiracismdaily.com.

ps – if you can, vote.

TAKE ACTION

Go through the Safety Checklist for November and make your plan. You can go to File > Make a Copy to create your own editable version without bothering the organizers that created it!
Encourage your family, friends and colleagues do the same.
Take care of yourself this week.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Regardless of who wins in tomorrow's election, it's likely that the coming weeks will be chaotic.

Activists and extremists alike from both the right and the left fear what could happen this election and are preparing for what's to come (The Atlantic). As a result, businesses are hiring security. Streets are boarding up their storefronts. Gun sales are up. And police departments are staffing up. And although a tiny percentage of people actually support violence, it doesn't take many incite it (more on this via Brookings).

It's important to note how this violence is likely to most impact marginalized communities – the essential workers that don't have a choice not to go to work. The low-wage workers that aren't given Election Day off. The people of color most likely to be targeted by racial violence from the right. The people that rely on public transportation that could be disrupted by protests. If you have the privilege not to be directly impacted by the election violence, it is your responsibility to protect their well-being.

This isn't meant to fear-monger. I simply want us all to prepare how best to respond. This year has been filled with catastrophes for the U.S., often with little or no time to prepare; the first wave of COVID-19 was mismanaged by our government, causing cases to skyrocket and responses to feel jumbled and disorganized. The rise of protests in response to the murder of George Floyd happened immediately (although not without warning; if you've been attuned to the decades of unchecked police brutality in the U.S., you were likely unsurprised).

The small glimmer of hope I see this time around is that we have precious time to prepare a response. So, let's do so. Planning for the election is not just exercising your right to vote (if you have one) or your way to contribute if you couldn't vote. It shouldn't be your default response when participating in our democratic process. But it needs to be today – and honestly, we should be

The first part of preparing is to prepare yourself. This is not to center your needs above those more marginalized. This is about ensuring you are resourced enough to do the most. Make your self-care plan.

Then get clarity on what it looks like to protect your community. The checklist offers ways to help from a wide range of perspectives: you can organize politically to defend polling sites, passing out food and water in places with long lines, or offer rides to people in your community. You can organize logistically by offering food, money, and other tangibles to those worried about leaving their homes in the coming weeks. You can also get prepared to participate or defend any protests that may unfold in the weeks ahead. The checklist includes links to upcoming trainings and virtual gatherings you can join – and I recommend subscribing for future events that may be scheduled as things unfold.

If anything, perhaps this plan will bring you and your community some ease and relief as the weeks unfold. But at most, it can save lives. Whatever you do, an extra day of planning won't hurt. In addition, this plan can act as a helpful template for other issues that may arise outside of the election, like an environmental disaster, looming COVID-19 lockdowns, or other political unrest. Regardless of our political beliefs, we must remember that we are all in this together. Violence this election serves no one. Commit to serving your community with love and solidarity.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

State and local governments, organizers, activists and extremists are worried about election violence over the coming weeks
Creating a plan is critical for your self-care, but to support and protect the people around you – especially those most marginalized
Take some time to prepare now, and keep this election safety checklist in your back pocket for whenever a response to crisis is needed

RELATED ISSUES

10/1/2020 | Vote Trump out of office.

9/27/2020 | Protect the polls.

9/23/2020 | Reject the modern-day poll tax.

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 11/1/20 Nicole Cardoza 11/1/20

Question billionaire philanthropy.

On October 13th, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg and his wife, Priscilla Chan, announced that they were donating another $100 million to support local election offices and polling places ahead of the presidential election (Washington Post). This money followed their earlier $300 million donation towards the same cause (Vox).

Hello and Happy Sunday. Because we're likely going to be deep into the election this week, let's spend today focusing on corporate America. Jami analyzes how billionaires are often more complicit in sustaining economic and racial inequities than solving them, and unpacks the racial philanthropy gap.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also donate monthly or annually on Patreon. If this email was forwarded to you, you could subscribe at antiracismdaily.com.

ps – if you can, vote.

TAKE ACTION

Read this Vox article that explains the racial philanthropy gap.
Reflect on the corporations and businesses you support. How can you work towards advancing economic equality, instead of supporting corporations that further economic inequality?

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)

Many conservative groups decried the donations, accusing Zuckerberg of partisanship and election manipulation (The Press-Democrat). However, the bulk of the money is being funneled through the non-profit organization The Center for Tech and Civic Life, which is “regrant[ing] the money to local election officials so they can recruit poll workers, supply them with personal protective equipment, and set up drive-through voting” (Vox). The rest of the money is being distributed to Secretaries of State.

However, there are still many other concerns with the funding (and with billionaire philanthropy in general). First, to use a popular metaphor, Zuckerberg’s money is like Band-aid over a bullet wound—the wound being how massively underfunded the elections are this year. This spring, Congressional Democrats and a wide coalition of civil rights organizations (including the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights, NAACP, and Indivisible) pushed for at least $4 billion in state election assistance (Civilrights.org), but the bill that passed only included one-tenth of that (NPR).

Instead, municipalities are using Zuckerberg’s money to fill in the gaps, to pay for necessities like ballot drop boxes, additional poll workers, and personal protective equipment (NY Times). This is problematic when we begin to rely on private money instead of pressuring the government to adequately fund our institutions (like when we normalize GoFundMe crowdfunding as an adequate replacement for affordable healthcare.)

It’s sometimes difficult to critique such philanthropy because the money is filling a concrete need. Zuckerberg’s donation does increase voting access. But this type of action is an example of what writer and political analyst Anand Giradharadas describes as actions the ruling class (like Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos) takes to pretend that they are not, in fact, one of the sources of the problem. “This is the kind of change that allows you to stand on someone’s back while saying you’re helping them,” he explains (The Guardian). If they donate enough money, maybe we’ll forget about all their problematic, unethical business practices.

"
Generosity is not a substitute for justice... One popular [move of the ruling class] is using generosity to obscure one’s own complicity in injustice. You commit an injustice and then rely on generosity on a much smaller scale to cover it up. This is the most obvious move. This happens often enough that when you see an act of plutocratic generosity you should at a minimum be skeptical.”

Anand Giridharadas, author of Winners Take All: The Elite Charade of Changing the World, via an interview with The Guardian

When Jeff Bezos made a $100 million donation to the nonprofit Feeding America in June (CNBC), the gift — which made all the headlines — also functioned as a publicity stunt). This kind of free publicity can work in a corporation’s favor; in Bezos’s case, such headlines might make us forget about Amazon’s consistently poor working conditions, which have become more dangerous during COVID-19 (Vox). The amount of money also seems shockingly large, until you break it down two ways: that the donation was just .07% of his wealth, and that it came out to just $2 for each of the 46 million Americans who rely on food banks (Nonprofit Quarterly).

In January, Bezos was worth $115 billion (CNN), but by August, he became the first person to be worth $200 billion (Forbes) — the same amount as the net wealth of the entire country of Ecuador. In a year when millions of people across the world have lost their jobs and financial stability, when his company refuses to provide data about coronavirus outbreaks to its workers, Bezos gained $85 billion, due to our global ever-growing dependence on Amazon. Meanwhile, his workers can’t even find out if there’s a coronavirus outbreak at their own warehouse (NBC).

In short: this system of philanthropy is used to “reinforce a politico-economic system that enables such a small number of people to accumulate obscene amounts of wealth… and serves to legitimise capitalism, as well as to extend it further and further into all domains of social, cultural and political activity” (The Guardian).

Again, it can be difficult to critique when many of the causes these billionaires support — like racial equality — are things we also believe in. But this version of philanthropy can reek of white saviorism, and can lead to a disturbing dynamic wherein “communities of color come… are forced to beg philanthropic grant makers for resources that... were earned through processes of exploitation in the first place” (Vox).

To fight racism, we must address our society’s economic inequality. Our past newsletters have addressed the massive wealth disparities between white households and households of color. And when we look deeply at the racial and class divides in this country, we understand that no matter how much these billionaires give away, they’ll never make up for what they’re taking from the rest of America.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Billionaire philanthropy often serves as a way for leaders of corporations to “commit an injustice and then rely on generosity on a much smaller scale to cover it up” (Anand Giridharadas via The Guardian)
Jeff Bezos’s net worth has increased by over $85 billion this year — at the same time his Amazon warehouse workers suffer grueling, unsafe warehouse conditions.
To fight racism, we must address economic inequality.

RELATED ISSUES

9/30/2020 | Close the racial wealth gap.

6/30/2020 | Boycott as a form of protest.

9/10/2020 | Fight for fair labor.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/31/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/31/20

Study Hall! The scary truth.

Happy Halloween! Welcome to our weekly Study Hall. Each week I answer questions and share insights from each of you in our community. This week we unpack the futility of marginal change, Halloween, and the Supreme Court.

If you subscribe to just the weekly digest, this is the only email you will receive (hi Saturday readers 👋🏾) You can click through to read all original pieces via the archives, and get the recap in one place. Change your email preferences by updating your profile information here.

As always, your support is greatly appreciated. You can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $7/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

ps – you can also sign up for our advocacy program, which helps you track referrals to the newsletter and unlock perks along the way! Learn more.

TAKE ACTION

1. Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.

2. Discuss with a friend: what did you uncover this week that you never heard of before? What power and privilege may have protected you from unpacking this concept? Or, which trauma(s) may have shielded you from learning more?

GET EDUCATED

We've published 150 newsletters on racism over the past 150 days. Here are the newsletters we published this week.

10/30/2020 | Don't be racist this Halloween.

10/29/2020 | Fight racist death row sentencing.

10/28/2020 | Unpack the history of social work.

10/27/2020 | Expand the court.

10/26/2020 | Support diversity in animated films.

10/25/2020 | Learn the history of the Texas Rangers

Read all previously published newsletters on our archives >

Q+A

Just because we Democrats are disadvantaged now, I don't think we should stoop to Trump’s level. Are there future repercussions if Biden were to pack the court?
From Expand the court on 10/27/2020.

There's certainly repercussions to restructuring the court; it could divide the two parties even further and make the Supreme Court a critical part of every future election. Some are calling for different ways to restructure the court, like implementing term limits, that might not feel as radical as changing the number of seats altogether.

We could also have a court that changes more rapidly, offering more diverse perspectives on cases than what we've had historically.

But I think many people feel (including myself) that the stakes are too great to worry about the optics or the repercussions. The repercussions that the American people will experience outweigh any political maneuvering. Some of the most foundational human rights are at stake, and if we believe this democracy is designed to protect them, we need to make rapid changes so it can.

Q+A

This election I have the chance to vote for more environmental protections for my city. The plan notes that it will raise taxes to achieve its vision. I know we've talked about how important environmental protections are for marginalized communities in particular, but we've also talked about how the tax system disproportionately impacts the same community. How do I vote in a way that actually helps, not hurts?
From Fight for environmental protections on 10/23/2020.

When writing one newsletter on one topic each day, we oftentimes fail to demonstrate the complexities of this work. Unfortunately, our best efforts on one issue don't exist in a silo, and often come in direct conflict in what we believe our best efforts are in another. This is a great example of that paradox.

When abstracted, this is an example of a futility cycle, which some radical abolitionists point to in discussions about changing the current system. Because our entire society is built upon oppression, it's incredibly difficult to make monumental change. We can rally to change in one aspect of our lives, but overhauling everything is going to take more drastic action. It's akin to rebuilding a house on a rotting foundation. At some point, we need to raze the entire structure and start anew.

I don't know the specifics of the issue on your ballot this year, and sure, there might be one of the two choices that are slightly better. But let's focus on the paradox at hand. How can we look at both issues past the ballot and fight not for reform, but for abolition? Like in your scenario, taxes often come at the "cost" of other threats – poverty, housing insecurity, hunger – so what would it look like if we abolished the tax system entirely? How can we start today to push for a reimagining of taxes tomorrow?

I don't have the answers, but community activists in your city may. You're asking all the right questions. Keep listening for more tangible ways you can reshape the system. And in the meantime, keep doing what you can and make the decision that marginally moves things forward.

Q+A

I disagree with some of the costumes you say are offensive. Humor is healing, so zombie cops or coronavirus in chains could be a good way to look at where we are right now.
From Don't be racist this Halloween on 10/31/2020.

It may be for you! But I'll be honest, I had a visceral reaction to thinking about someone draped in chains walking down the street – regardless of what they're dressed as. I personally hold my breath when I see any cop while walking down the street; I don't think realizing one in particular is a Halloween costume as I approach will assuade that gut check.

Your response centered your assumption on how other people will feel based on what you deem funny. This work always encourages centering your assumptions on how people most vulnerable may feel; those that have had to live with the real-life horrors of cops and sickness. I don't think it's right to assume that everyone will appreciate a joke over the assumption that someone could be offended.

When it comes to humor, this take is often hotly contested. Comedians, for example, are both praised and condemned for making light of difficult situations. But I personally think that Halloween costumes occupy a different territory than a space designated for those kinds of statements. To me, Halloween is a way to escape the horrors of the day-to-day, not place them center stage.

Q+A

I heard that the term "spooky" is rooted in a slur against Black people and we shouldn't use it. Is that true?
From Don't be racist this Halloween on 10/31/2020.

Kind of. The term "spook" derives from the Dutch word for apparition, or specter, as did all of its variations (like "spooking" or "spooky").

But the word "spook" became a derogatory term for Black people in WWII, when Black Army pilots who trained at the Tuskegee Institute were referred to as the "Spookwaffe". Referring to someone – particularly a Black person – as a "spook" or "spooky" is absolutely uncalled for (NPR).

However, the term is "spooky" is still used as a colloquial statement towards general specter related activities (I clearly used it without thinking even though I already knew this). There's definitely more adjectives we can use instead of this term that's been co-opted in our history to have this meaning.

CLARIFICATIONS

In our 10/25/2020 newsletter, Learn the history of the Texas Rangers, we mistakenly insinuated in an early release that the police officer involved in the shooting of Jonathan Price was a Texas Ranger. It was the police officer involved in his arrest, not the shooter. The issue was changed in subsequent releases of the newsletter and on our archives.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/30/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/30/20

Don't be racist this Halloween.

If the world couldn’t be spooky enough, this weekend is Halloween. Its origins date back to Samhain’s ancient Celtic festival when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts (History) – although many other cultures worldwide have had practices that honor the dead. This practice has been adapted and evolved throughout history to what we see in modern-day culture in developed nations. But one sticking point has been the lackadaisical approach to costumes.

Welcome back and happy Friday. Growing up, Jasmine was my favorite Disney princess. Her skin was the closest to my shade (Disney didn't have a Black princess until 2009), she had a pet tiger (my favorite animal) and she had long, luscious hair, which I coveted as a child. I was thrilled to be her for Halloween in second-grade, and as Tiger Lily from Peter Pan a couple of years later. For both costumes, they were the only times I got to wear fake hair, and I remember feeling as pretty as the white girls I went to school with.

Now, I look back and see the layers of internalized racism I experienced as a Black girl in an all-white neighborhood, and the gross cultural appropriation of communities that I never got to learn about besides their glorified Disney stories on a TV screen. Although I certainly didn't mean any harm (nor did my family), I contributed to the whitewashing of marginalized communities – and minimized my own narrative in the process.

I think about this a lot each Halloween season, and this one is no different. I'm not sure what your plans are this weekend – I hope you're socially distancing – but nevertheless, it's a good time to reflect on how this holiday contributes to the narratives we discuss in the newsletter.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one-time or monthly on Patreon (you can also support via PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza). If this email was forwarded to you, you could subscribe to antiracismdaily.com.

TAKE ACTION

Research your costume before making a decision.
Choose a Halloween costume from your past that was inappropriate. Spend this weekend learning the real history of the community it comes from.
If you have the power and privilege to do so, socially distance this weekend. Remember that COVID-19 disproportionately impacts those most vulnerable. Do NOT expose them because you need to dress up and act foolish.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

But one sticking point has been the lackadaisical approach to costumes. Nowadays, it seems that Halloween is the one day that people believe they can get away with wearing harmful and disparaging costumes of marginalized communities. 2020 is unique – we’re amid a racial reckoning, on the eve of a critical election, and limited in how we should celebrate because of a global pandemic. But that’s all the more reason to analyze how racial stereotypes are promoted through the festivities of the holiday.

Before we dive into costumes themselves, we need to stop asking what’s racist racist and what’s kinda racist. Racist is racist. And all of it upholds systemic oppression. But society has trained us to believe that there’s an acceptable form of racism. Most of the white supremacy that perpetuates systemic oppression is overlooked, and only the most violent and blatant forms are condemned. This is often depicted using an iceberg; a small percentage of racist and oppressive actions are visible “above the surface,” whereas most are underwater.

Image via Attn.

The topics seen above the line in this graphic are referred to as “overt white supremacy,” and what’s underneath is “covert white supremacy.” But here’s the thing: what lies under the surface actually forms a foundation for the overt forms of white supremacy to thrive. If I had some illustration skills, I’d think about this more as roots and a tree. That’s a more accurate depiction of how to take action: we can’t just cut down the tree itself but uproot the entire plant.

So let’s start with the basics – the overt, so to speak. Don’t wear blackface. Don’t dress as any racial or ethnic stereotypes (as Madeleine Aggeler says in Bustle, “dressing up as an entire people instead of a specific person is a bad idea”). Don’t appropriate any cultures or beliefs. And while we’re at it, don’t wear anything to make fun of someone with a physical or mental disability. Also, let’s not dress up for anyone known for their racist ideologies, okay? Because pretending to be a white supremacist is an act of white supremacy. So KKK, Nazis are a hard no. But so are colonizers – references to incarceration or immigration, or dressing as sports teams that uphold racial stereotypes.

"
Treating other people’s cultures as a costume is the entire problem. It’s a problem if you are making fun of that culture; it’s a problem if you think you are lauding that culture.
Elie Mystal for The Nation

And there are some costumes this year that aren’t overtly racist but are definitely racially charged. I’d give some deep thought to whether dressing up as law enforcement is appropriate, especially if you are a grown person and will be wearing a mask – you could easily be mistaken for the real thing and make others feel unsafe. Dressing up as coronavirus during a global pandemic, after 220,000+ people have lost their lives to it, is also very tactless. Consider the power and privilege that may influence the decision behind choosing one of these costumes.

Many people ask where the line is regarding cultural appropriation when it comes to costumes based on characters in the media. And here, it does become more challenging (although we have to keep in mind that the media itself isn't always a gold standard of cultural recognition). Characters like Moana or the Black Panther have distinct ties to marginalized communities but have also become popular culture through movies and merchandising. The notion of whether people can dress up as these characters are hotly contested (read more on Black Panther in the NYTimes). But it doesn’t always make it okay. When you wear the costume, are you conscious of the narrative beyond the Disney storyline that the character represents? And how are you in relationship with the community, not just the character? These are the questions I wish someone had asked me when I was wearing the costumes mentioned in my intro.

Generally speaking, if you’re going to do the work to plan your costume, a quick internet search on how it will be perceived should be a part of your planning. But what often gets lost in these conversations is what more to do. And I think Halloween weekend can also stand for a time where we commit to learning more about the communities that are appropriated during this time. This can be incredibly powerful with children; understanding various communities’ history builds empathy, which is often a more lasting connection than discipline. Halloween isn’t about trick-or-treating if it doesn’t treat us equitably.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Halloween is culturally a time where many people wear costumes that include blackface and/or cultural appropriation, in addition to other oppressive and/or racially charged attire
Whether overt or covert, all forms of white supremacy are harmful, and contribute to the racist world we live in today
We need to move past dressing as characters to recognizing the unique cultures and identities of those we wish to impersona

RELATED ISSUES

10/26/2020 | Support diversity in animated films.

7/22/2020 | Don't Americanize other cultures.

7/16/2020 | Respect AAVE.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/29/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/29/20

Fight racist death row sentencing.

Pervis Payne, a Black man who was convicted for murder 33 years ago, will be executed in December, despite DNA evidence that could prove his innocence (CNN). While the execution of an intellectually disabled person is unconstitutional, the court didn’t recognize Payne’s disability at the time of his trial (Tennessean). The Innocence Project, a legal organization that works to exonerate the wrongfully convicted, is trying to stop Payne’s execution. As of today, “375 people in the United States have been exonerated by DNA testing, including 21 who served time on death row” (The Innocence Project).

Welcome back! It's Thursday and there's 5 days until the U.S. election. Please vote and encourage others to do the same.

And please rally for Pervis Payne. Bianca joins us today to outline his case and the racial disparities of death row sentencing. Payne has been fighting for his innocence for the past 33 years. We can take ten minutes to advocate on his behalf.

ps – this is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one-time or monthly on Patreon (you can also support via PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza). If this email was forwarded to you, you can subscribe at antiracismdaily.com.

TAKE ACTION

Sign the petition to stop the execution until the DNA has been tested.
Spread awareness about Pervis Payne’s case by sharing his story on social media.
Look at statistics on Death Row sentencing by race across the country and by state using this tool. Consider how race plays a factor in this data.

GET EDUCATED

By Bianca Gonzalez (she/her)

In 1987, Payne’s girlfriend’s neighbor and her daughter were fatally stabbed in Tennessee; the neighbor’s son was also stabbed but survived his injuries (The Washington Post). Later that day, Payne was arrested and charged with their murders and in February 1988, Payne was sentenced to be executed on December 3rd, 2020 (Commercial Appeal). For more details of Payne’s case, read The Innocence Project’s outline of his case here.

The police focused on Payne in their investigation rather than following other leads in the case, such as the victim’s abusive ex-husband or another man spotted leaving the building around the time of the murder (Innocence Project). Prosecutors argued that Payne committed the murders after being rejected for sex while on drugs, but Payne had no history of drug use, no criminal record, and was widely known as a kind person. In a complaint, Payne’s attorney, Kelley Henry, notes that Payne “was convicted after the prosecution played upon racial fears and stereotypes about Black men taking drugs and looking for white women to sexually assault” (Innocence Project). Prosecutors referred to Payne’s “dark hand” versus the victim’s “white skin” (Tennessean).

Racism plays a clear role in many of the convictions of Black defendants. 57% of the U.S. prison population consists of Black and Latinx prisoners, despite the Black and Latinx demographic only comprising 29% of the total U.S. population (The Sentencing Project). Innocent Black people are about seven times more likely to be convicted of murder than their innocent white counterparts (National Registry of Exonerations).

Moreover, Payne’s trial took place in Shelby County, Tennessee, a political and cultural climate in which the public had regularly executed innocent Black people. Shelby County is one of the 25 American counties with the highest rate of lynchings between 1877 and 1950 (Lynching in America). Lynching is a form of vigilante “justice” performed by civilians instead of the judicial system, where the mobs of people, who were usually white, would gather to torture and kill those accused of crimes, who were usually Black (NAACP). Racial stereotyping has been used to justify the lynching of Black Americans for centuries (Lynching in America).

Additionally, it is unconstitutional to execute someone with an intellectual disability (Legal Information Institute). While Payne’s disability wasn’t legally recognized at the time of his conviction, he wasn’t able to fully participate in his own case (Innocence Project). Dr. Martell, who was the expert opinion in the Atkins v. Virginia case and hundreds of other cases, concluded that Payne had an intellectual disability (Innocence Project). He found that Payne’s reading, math, and memory skills are all less than the bottom 5th percentile for his age. He had impaired language functioning and was unable to finish high school, despite working hard and never having disciplinary problems. Payne’s attorney filed a complaint to prevent Tennessee from carrying out his execution until the court considers his claim that as an intellectually disabled person, his execution would be unconstitutional (Innocence Project).

On September 16, 2020, the Shelby County Criminal Court ordered DNA testing of crime scene evidence that hadn’t previously been tested in Pervis Payne’s case. Although this could prove his innocence, his execution is still scheduled for December 3rd, 2020 (Innocence Project). Shelby County District Attorney Amy Weirich previously opposed DNA testing in the case. The court’s opposition in Payne’s case reflects their previous treatment of death row cases with innocence claims. In 2006, Sedley Alley was executed after being denied DNA testing of evidence believed to belong to the perpetrator (Innocence Project). His daughter fought for DNA testing to posthumously prove her father’s innocence but was denied in 2019 (New York Times). Both Pervis Payne and Sedley Alley could potentially be added to the list of the 172 death-row prisoners who were exonerated of the charges justifying their execution, 90 of whom were Black (Death Penalty Information Center).

It should never be controversial to include DNA evidence in any case with an innocence claim, especially when the American criminal justice system convicts racial minorities more harshly than their white counterparts. We need to fight to ensure Payne’s execution does not take place until after DNA evidence in his case, as well as his intellectual disability claim, are taken into consideration.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

DNA testing could prove the innocence of those wrongfully convicted decades ago- but some court systems are standing in the way.
Black people on trial have always been disproportionately subjected to capital punishment in America, both in the form of “vigilante justice” and through the American court system.
Innocent Black people are about seven times more likely to be convicted of murder than innocent white people (National Registry of Exonerations).

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/28/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/28/20

Unpack the history of social work.

After a summer of protests and uprisings around anti-Blackness in America, many people are looking for solutions to police violence and killings. A popular suggestion is having social workers respond to a crisis instead of police (The Guardian). Because they are unarmed and trained in de-escalation and crisis management, social workers can seem like the perfect solution.

Hi. It's Wednesday. 6 days until the U.S. election. Welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one-time or monthly (you can also support via PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza).

Yesterday, the Texas Behavioral Health Executive Council effectively reversed a rule that allowed social workers to turn away clients who are LGBTQ or have a disability. Although many in the state are breathing a sigh of relief, it's indicative of a larger narrative of how the social work industry has helped and harmed throughout the years. Today, Deana shares their perspective on where the social work industry can improve and unpacks their racial roots.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Follow @SWCARES2, @socialjusticedoula, and @SSWUChicago to learn from social workers that oppose social work oppression.
After reading this article, reflect on the following: How does policing show up in different professions? What media / history informs a narrative that social workers are inherently good? How can we support our own communities *before* a social services intervention is needed?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

In theory, this makes sense, but propping up social workers as the solution to systemic racism ignores the past and present role of social workers as the implementers of racist policies in America (National Association of Social Workers). During my time in a Bachelor of Social Work program, I experienced firsthand how the profession focused on legality over morality. Conversations about reporting hypothetical undocumented immigrants to ICE revealed how many future social workers were willing to turn away those most in need. Beyond that, stereotypes about welfare queens and Black students with no drive to succeed ran rampant in the classroom. Social work students, professors, and practitioners create and perpetuate environments that overlook blatant racism every day.

To fully understand the extent of social workers participation in racist policies and programs, we need to look at the roots of the profession in America. What we think of as “social work” in the United States began with Jane Addams and her fellow wealthy white women providing charity via the Hull House, a home and community space provided for those in need (Jade Addams Papers Project). Despite the success social workers saw in providing housing, education, and social opportunities, there were gaps in what they achieved. For one, Hull House was racially (but not ethnically) segregated from the day doors opened in 1889 into the late 1930s (Jade Addams Papers Project). These social workers also failed to challenge the systems that created poverty and racial inequity. Instead, they focused on systems of charity that did not challenge their own social or financial statuses. As a result, their client’s needs were met but the root of the problems they faced are still plaguing us today.

This was the beginning of social workers partnering with federal, state, and local governments (GovLoop). Whether they are providing social welfare or enforcing social policing, social workers are part of the bureaucracy of government bodies on all levels. Too often, this has manifested in social workers perpetuating policies and actions that are racist and inhumane.

As early into the profession as the 1920s, social workers were involved in restricting the reproductive freedoms of marginalized communities. Even the mother of social work, Jane Addams, embraced eugenics as a policy solution to social problems (Affilia). Social workers and other medical professionals agreed that forced sterilization of Black people, poor people, those without an education, single mothers, and mentally disabled people was good for society. In North Carolina, this practice continued up into 1974, with at least 7,600 victims on the record (MSNBC).

And while social workers are largely responsible for child welfare policies and programs in America, that history is also rooted in racism and violence. In 1958, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, a federal agency responsible for administration of Indigenous land (American Resources on the Net), created the Indian Adoption Project to break up Indigenous families. Predominantly white social workers would visit families on reservations and convince parents that it was in their children's best interests to sign away their parental rights (Upstander Project). When parents refused to allow their children to be adopted by white parents in eastern states, the coercion and manipulation began. Social workers showed up unannounced when children were in hospitals or being babysat to remove them without consent (MPR).

"We can't be afraid to use words like genocide," Anita Fineday, a former chief judge at White Earth Tribal Nation, told Indian Country Today. “The endgame [of the removals], the official federal policy, was that the tribes wouldn’t exist” (Indian Country Today).

Even today, the child welfare system is a tool that the government can use to surveil, regulate, and punish poor Black and Brown families. Black children make up nearly 25% of children in foster care (Administration for Children and Families), and Black parents are more likely to have their parental rights terminated than white parents (The Appeal). These statistics do not exist in a vacuum; like many systems in the United States, social work is designed to fail Black and Brown families..

Often, the social work profession is portrayed as completely heroic, progressive, or even effective. This is an example of white saviorism, the idea that white people can “rescue people of color from their own situation” (Medium). The history of this profession is barely touched upon in social work education. The seemingly positive influence of rich, racist white women like Jane Addams is prioritized over the harm they inflicted. Social workers are often used as the tools of racist governments, enacting that racism in their own work.

Luckily, today there are social work collectives that are acknowledging these problems and proposing solutions. Social Service Workers United-Chicago has called out the National Association of Social Workers for their history of racism. In July, SSWU drafted a petition demanding an investment in abolitionist and anti-racist practice, and a divestment from collaborating with racist government agencies like local police and ICE. The petition gained 1,700 individual signatures (Medium).

Social work has value—but it will never be the quick fix to systemic racism, white supremacy, and anti-Blackness that some people want it to be. Luckily, young Black and Brown people with social work degrees, like me, are stepping up to transform the profession. This has come in the form of recognizing Black organizers from history as social workers (Black Social Work History), lending our skills to liberation movements (Doin' The Work), and focusing on community education around the profession (University of Houston). As these actions and movements gain more support, social work could shift into a position of fighting oppression of all forms rather than enabling it.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Texas legislators recently attempted to allow social workers to discriminate against their clients
The social work field was often used to carry out racist agendas by the government
Although social work has value, and efforts are being made to transform the industry, there's more to be done to align its efforts with its image

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Nicole Cardoza 10/27/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/27/20

Expand the court.

It happened. Justice Amy Coney Barrett was confirmed to the Supreme Court Monday evening (NPR). Judge Barrett, who is 48 years old, is likely to serve on the court for decades, solidifying a 6-3 conservative majority. It also gives her immediate power in several upcoming hearings this November that disproportionately impacts the livelihood of communities of color. This is the first time a Supreme Court nominee has been confirmed without a single vote from a major minority party since December 1869 (WSJ). Now that it’s official, inquiries on whether or not Biden, if confirmed, could expand the court, have snowballed into comprehensive calls for action.

Happy Tuesday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Each day, we send one email to spark action – and dismantle racism and systemic oppression in the U.S. To support our work, you can donate one-time or monthly on our website, Patreon, Paypal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza.

You know, last night I opened my laptop after a long day of meetings to publish a whole different piece. And then, I checked the news. And I realized that you and I, dear reader, are going to be here for a while. Because we have a heck of a fight ahead of us for justice. If you are still reading then we're on the right track. Rest, hydrate, wash your hands and keep going. We will create the change we wish to see.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Sign the petition to adjust the composition of the judiciary.
Work to Flip the Senate by donating and volunteering to critical campaigns
Commit to voting – even if you feel defeated.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Expanding the size of the court, also known as “packing the court,” is when legislators move to change the number of judges confirmed to the court. This can happen at the state and federal level of the justice system – but is clearly focused on the Supreme Court. And this is constitutional: the number of Supreme Court Justices is not fixed, and Congress can change it by passing an act signed by the President. Article III, Section 1 of the Constitution states that “The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish” (National Constitution Center).

And our earliest Presidents took full advantage of this. The size of the Supreme Court was changed six times from 1776 until 1869, wavering anywhere between five and ten seats (New York Times). Each time, by a President who needed to shift power to support their political goals, or to block incoming administration from shifting its stance. Read the specifics on the National Constitution Center website.

Those that feel strongly about the plan on both sides will reference the controversial plan by FDR, who aimed to expand the Supreme Court to as many as 15 judges for efficiency’s sake. But many felt that this was his attempt to garner support for his New Deal, and when voting patterns on the existing court changed, the case became a moot point (History). Regardless, it provided a cautionary tale that seems to haunt conversations about expanding the court today. How’s that for a spooky Halloween tale?

As a result, this constitutional act hasn’t been exercised on the federal level. But it’s important to note that packing – or unpacking – the court is a strategy used by both political parties on the state level. In fact, recent efforts to change the size of state courts have been led predominantly by Republicans. In 2016, the Republican legislature approved a measure to increase the size of the Arizona Supreme Court from five to seven justices, even though it wasn’t supported by Democrats or the judges themselves. A similar situation happened in Georgia, where the Republican-controlled General Assembly passed a bill to expand the court to nine justices. The bill also gave the Republican governor the power to fill the two new seats (Washington Post). Other recent efforts by both Democrats and Republicans have failed, often because of the opposition of the other party.

Some also argue that court-packing is similar to how the Republican party blocked President Barack Obama’s nomination of Judge Merrick B. Garland in 2016, which meant that the Supreme Court was acting with eight judges for over a year until the next election (NPR). Especially paired with the rush to confirm Judge Barrett before an election just four years later. Although the concept wasn’t exactly embraced by liberal political leaders, we can expect it to gain more traction with this confirmation.

But I’d like us to remember that this isn’t an issue of politics, but of people. Based on her decision on November 10, 20 million people could lose their healthcare if the Affordable Care Act is overturned – and in the midst of a pandemic, no less. This particularly impacts people with disabilities, who could easily be denied coverage and disability-related services from other healthcare providers (Progressive). A ruling on November 4 will decide whether private agencies that receive taxpayer funding for government services, such as foster care providers, can deny services to people who are LGBTQ+, Jewish, Muslim, or Mormon – and Judge Barrett is expected to vote in favor of the discrimination (Bustle). On November 9, the court will hear a case on immigration; an effort to make deportation proceedings more accurate and preserving “relief of removal”. Judge Barrett is likely to vote against immigrants (Bloomberg Law). And although there’s no date on the calendar, the anticipated overturning of Roe v. Wade would impact abortion and reproductive rights (NBC News).

All of these immediate decisions are only a glimpse of what may come from future cases. So conversations about expanding the court can’t end with this upcoming election, or this decade. Regardless of the outcome, we need to take a critical eye to our judiciary system and analyze what’s not just right historically or constitutionally, but ethically. If the government is designed to work for the life and liberty of its people, it must be realigned to suit its needs when its political leaders fail.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Judge Amy Coney Barrett was confirmed to the Supreme Court Monday night
Her confirmation ensures a 6-3 conservative majority who will be voting on critical issues for communities of color, including healthcare, immigration and discrimination
Court-packing, or expanding the court, is a constitutional act of changing the number of court justices that's been implemented both federally and state-based

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/26/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/26/20

Support diversity in animated films.

Over the past couple of years, major studios have rushed to create renditions of popular stories from generations past, a way to incite millennials with renditions of their favorites and, hopefully, bring their children along for the ride. As they do, efforts to add more diversity have been applauded and criticized alike. Representation in all movies and particularly animated movies – isn’t just a marketing ploy; it’s critical to rewriting a history of whiteness in animated films and contributing to a conscious conversation about where society can grow.

Happy Monday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Each day, we send one email to spark action – and dismantle racism and systemic oppression in the U.S. To support our work, you can donate one-time or monthly on our website, Patreon, Paypal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza.

I’m a child of the 90s, so I was raised in the time of Disney princesses and happily ever afters. Since then, I've become an avid fan of animated storytelling. Much of my perspective on race has come from analyzing its history and how it responds to current events, so I'm excited to share that with you in today's newsletter. To unpack this issue, we touch on whitewashing, blackface, and colorism. If those are unfamiliar terms for you, I recommend referencing the associated articles as you go.

And before I get a million hate mail messages, I’m not asking you to cancel your Disney+ account or give up your favorite film from your youth! Like other other newsletters, it’s an opportunity to think critically, reflect, learn and choose what type of future you wish to invest in.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Reflect on your favorite animated movie/show. How does it support narratives for equity and inclusion? How does it work against narratives for equity and inclusion?
If you’re a parent: consider diversifying the TV shows and movies that your child watches at home. Search for a new, diverse story to introduce them to.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Much of the scrutiny around representation is targeted at Disney, who arguably set the standard for feature-length animated films in the U.S. And also because their legacy is rife with racial stereotypes. Historically the principal characters of Disney movies are overwhelmingly white. If people of color are featured, it’s poorly. In the Aristocats, a cat in yellowface plays the piano with chopsticks. In Peter Pan, Native Americans are referred to by the racist slur "redskins" (NYTimes). And in Dumbo, released during the peak of Jim Crow in America, a group of black crows reinforce African American stereotypes of the time (Washington Post). Now, if stream one of these films on Disney+, a disclaimer pops up at the beginning, acknowledging that "these stereotypes were wrong then and are wrong now.” They also link to a website, “Stories Matter,” where users can learn more (BBC).

You’ll notice that many of the characters shared above aren’t even human. And that’s a trend that’s persisted, even as animated films mature. Characters that could be people of color are animals (like Pocahontas and Lion King). If they are human, they tend to spend significant amounts of time as animals. On the surface, this means that we don’t get that melanin screen time many marginalized communities look forward to.

But, as Andrew Tejada notes in his article “Representation Without Transformation: Can Hollywood Stop Changing Cartoon Characters of Color?” it goes beyond what kids see. It often changes the entire story. Instead of being themselves, they spend most of the movie trying to win back their right to be human (tor.com). This means that they don’t spend time navigating their own unique stories, ones that could acknowledge the specific challenges they face and perhaps resonate with viewers. And in a world that historically sees people of color as less-than-human, it feels especially dismissive.

The story of Princess Tiana, the first Black Disney princess from The Frog Princess, is often used as an example of this. Although the story was consciously re-created to depict Southern history and a Black lead, Tiana spent most of the movie as a frog trying to kiss a prince to become human again, which quickly overshadowed her story of trying to start her own business as a young Black woman.

Otherwise, when more diverse characters have been included in animation – whether by race or by size, gender, or sexual orientation – they're usually portrayed as the villains. Their contrast from what’s considered “good” in dominant culture are used as justification to ostracize and, often, inflict violence upon them.

This contrast is primarily created through skin color, relying on our history of colorism to distinguish the character’s role in the narrative. A classic example is the Mongolians and Shan-Yu, their leader, in Mulan. The rest of the humans have light, flesh-toned skin colors, but theirs is much darker – more grey than anything, with yellow eyes. They almost look subhuman, which is intentional. It makes a clear statement of who is considered good v. evil. Meanwhile, colorism is still abundant, particularly in countries throughout Asia (read more on colorism in our previous newsletter). Other examples of colorism in animated series include Scar, Ursula, and Mor’du (from Brave), and this trend extends to live-action films, too.

Beyond skin color, villains are often given other characteristics that are used against marginalized groups. Nearly every villain in Disney films is queercoded, or, given a “series of characteristics that are traditionally associated with queerness, such as more effeminate presentations by male characters or more masculine ones from female characters” (Syfy). Think of Scar v. Simba, Hades v. Hercules, Jafar v. Aladdin, or Ursula (based on a drag queen) v. Ariel. By doing so, the films subconsciously align queerness with evil, and, because they’re often trying to thwart “true love,” threaten heteronormativity and our right to live “happily ever after” (Little White Lies). Villains are also depicted as larger-bodied (like Ursula and John Ratcliffe) or with a physical or intellectual disability (CNN).

None of these depictions themselves are harmful themselves – representation can be neutral or positive – but it’s how it’s wielded that causes the stereotypes to persist. When we always see people from marginalized communities as the villain, we also assume that those from dominant culture are the heroes, which leads us to overlook the harm they can and have, inflicted for centuries. It can also teach kids harmful notions about themselves: “I have darker skin, so I must be a bad person. Maybe that’s why I do bad things, or people don’t seem to like me very much. I deserve to be treated this way”. Or, “people that act this way are bad. It’s my job to treat them poorly. That’s what the good guys do”.

Efforts to diversify these old stories have been criticized by people who are afraid they will “change the story” too much (Washington Post). But do they? To me, these stories don’t accurately depict just marginalized culture, but any particular culture. When it comes to The Little Mermaid, the plot itself doesn’t represent much of any of the mythology mermaids inhabit in countries worldwide. It even strays far from the Hans Christian Anderson tale (Wired). I can understand if someone who strays far from the narrative was cast in a story like The Secret of Kells, set in 9th century Ireland. But for a mermaid? Let’s also remember that white actors are cast for roles designated for people of color all the time.

And of course, diversity has to move beyond what we see. White actors also voice most of the animated characters of color we see in movies and TV shows. This is a more blatant form of whitewashing that’s perhaps easier to get away with because, unlike live-action films, viewers rarely know who the actor is behind the character. (The lead crow in Dumbo is literally named “Jim Crow” and voiced by a white man). Over the past few months, several white voiceover actors have stepped away from roles where they depict people of color (Vox).

Remember that representation internally tends to impact representation externally. And it’s the directors, writers, producers, and animators of color that are pushing the industry forward. Not only are they carving their own path, but ensuring everything from accurate illustrations, dialogue, and backgrounds are creating the right container for our stories to be heard. But they should not carry the burden of re-creating an entire industry or be held responsible for its legacy.

Nevertheless, we’ve come a long way. I was reminded to watch this when I saw a series of trailers for animated stories that seem to depict beautiful, diverse stories eschewing the Disney princess motif with culturally diverse concepts and settings. And I hope we continue to advocate for all narratives to be told – and inspire us with awe and wonder.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Historically, animated films perpetuated harmful racial stereotypes
More recently, films tend to use colorism and other stereotypes to make villains feel counter-cultural, which enforces dominant culture and how it oppresses
Recently, Disney+ added a disclaimer to its films depicting harmful stereotypes that are now available to stream

RELATED ISSUES

9/15/2020 | End Hollywood whitewashing.

7/17/2020 | Analyze representation in media.

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/25/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/25/20

Learn the history of the Texas Rangers.

But behind each hashtag is a person. This time, his name was Jonathan Price. He was a 31-year-old from Wolfe City, Texas, a small town outside Dallas. He was a “motivational speaker, a mentor to student-athletes in the area, and a frequent participant in community service activities” (Yahoo News). He was beloved by his community. And on October 3rd, he defused a fight he witnessed between a man and a woman at a convenience store. For his intervention, he was killed. To be more precise: on October 3rd, a police officer, a Texas Ranger, murdered an unarmed Jonathan Price as he walked away from the scene (Washington Post).

Happy Sunday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Each day, we send one email to spark action – and dismantle racism and systemic oppression in the U.S. To support our work, you can donate one-time or monthly on our website, Patreon, Paypal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza.

Last week we published an article about sports team names that glorify violence against communities of color. Today, Jami unpacks the history of the Texas Rangers and demands justice for another Black man whose life was stolen away. Read and rally for accountability in your community.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Ensure Jonathan Price stays part of the conversation. Demand #JusticeforJonathan.
Call for police accountability in your community. Follow up on conversations on defunding the police and re-investing in other community support systems.
Reflect: Are there any groups, people, or institutions like the Texas Rangers that are romanticized or glorified in your area? Take a careful look at the history behind those local legends. Did their glory come at others’ expense?

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)

If you stumbled across the #JusticeforJonathan hashtag recently, you could probably guess what it referred to, even without context. This is what we have learned to expect in America: another day, another name, another Black person killed by the police. Because these events happen so frequently, people can easily tune out the deaths, especially when they aren’t as high-profile as George Floyd’s or Breonna Taylor’s.

But behind each hashtag is a person. This time, his name was Jonathan Price. He was a 31-year-old from Wolfe City, Texas, a small town outside Dallas. He was a “motivational speaker, a mentor to student-athletes in the area, and a frequent participant in community service activities” (Yahoo News). He was beloved by his community. And on October 3rd, he defused a fight he witnessed between a man and a woman at a convenience store. For his intervention, he was killed. To be more precise: on October 3rd, a police officer murdered an unarmed Jonathan Price as he walked away from the scene (Washington Post). For more about Jonathan Price, read Marquise Francis’s article from Yahoo News.

When I read that, I thought about the line from our recent newsletter on being an active bystander: “It’s important to note that being an active bystander often takes privilege.” Jonathan Price intervened as an active bystander to stop the violence he happened to see, and yet, because he was a Black man, he was murdered for his efforts. This, unfortunately, is not surprising when we think of the litany of “reasons” the police have killed Black people. What is surprising, though, is that the officer was charged with murder in the next few days (WFAA). Unfortunately, as Americans are well aware, both the charges themselves and the speed with which they were deployed are a rarity.

To better understand the context of this police shooting, we need to look at the unique history and structure of the Texas Rangers, an influential agency within Texas law enforcement. The Texas Rangers, a “division within the Texas Department of Public Safety with lead criminal investigative responsibility” (Texas.gov), are unlike the state police in other states. They have broader power and higher-level responsibilities, like overseeing special operations and SWAT teams (Dallas Morning News).

More importantly, the Texas Rangers have captured American popular imagination in a way no other state law enforcement agency has. They were mythologized in the character of the Lone Ranger, of radio, TV, movie, and comic book fame (History), and in the later Walker, Texas Ranger TV series, which ran from 1993 to 2001 (IMDB). Even the 1986 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove (and subsequent Emmy-nominated miniseries) is based on the exploits of former Texas Rangers (Pulitzer). The law enforcement agency is also memorialized in the name of the Arlington-based Major League Baseball team (Dallas News).

In such media, the Texas Rangers are portrayed as do-good defenders of the law, with a staunch moral code, battling for the soul of the Old West. Americans love such stories because we have a collective nostalgia for the West. But our collective nostalgia is, at its core, collective amnesia. The saying “History belongs to the victors” is exemplified by the fact that we still view westward expansion through the lens of the rugged, individual (white) American spirit – instead of through the lens of colonialism and genocide. For more on the myth of the frontier, check out our previous newsletter on racism in sports team names.

In the case of the Texas Rangers, when we remember only the Lone Ranger and the like, we ignore the racism and white supremacy at the root of the institution. In the early 1820s, the Texas Rangers began a small, informal army to “protect” the white settlers from the Indigenous people whose land they occupied. According to the founder, Stephen T. Austin, protection meant the eradication of the Native tribes: “There is no way of subduing them but extermination” (Texas Monthly).

In the 1910s, the expanded, established Texas Rangers participated in similar violence:

"
[The Texas Rangers] didn't invent police brutality, but they perfected it down there on the [Texas-Mexico] border, where they operated as what we would now term death squads… They executed hundreds, perhaps thousands of Mexicans and Mexican Americans. And some of those were bandits who had attacked white-owned farms and ranches, but many of them had committed no crimes. You know, they were guilty of having brown skin.
Doug J. Swanson, author of Cult of Glory: The Bold and Brutal History of the Texas Rangers, on NPR

Over the next century, their violence towards people of color continued. Before the Civil War, they collected bounties for escaped enslaved people; after the Civil War, they ignored the lynching of Black men (Texas Monthly). In the 1918 Porvenir Massacre, 15 unarmed Tejano men and youth were “taken into custody, denied due process, and executed en masse” by the Texas Rangers (Texas State Historical Association).

Some might argue that we cannot judge an institution today based on their actions in the early 1800s. But even in 1956, the Texas Rangers merely watched while a gravel-throwing white mob prevented Black students from entering their school. A decade later, they assaulted Mexican American workers while breaking a strike (Star-Tribune). Institutional rot spreads and trickles down.

It is true that Jonathan Price’s murder was not organized or sanctioned by the Texas Rangers themselves, and that they charged the responsible officer relatively quickly. Yet the officer’s actions descend from the same racist beliefs upon which the Texas Rangers were founded. Jonathan Price deserves justice— the kind of justice denied to all the other Indigenous, Mexican, and Black people the Texas Rangers killed over the last two centuries. And the rest of us need to ensure we do not succumb to collective amnesia. We must remember the truth behind the myths of the American West.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Jonathan Price, a 31-year-old Black man from Wolfe City, Texas, was walking away after breaking up a fight when a Texas Ranger shot and killed him on October 3, 2020.
The Texas Rangers law enforcement agency is mythologized in popular media. Rangers are often depicted as moral defenders of the law, battling for the soul of the Old West.
The agency was founded in the 1820s specifically to protect white settlers by “exterminating” (killing) the Native residents.
In the 1910s, Texas Rangers massacred hundreds of Mexicans and Mexican Americans along the border.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/23/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/23/20

Fight for environmental protections.

Understandably, the general American public is confused, disinterested, and polarized on the climate crisis. Climate change, said to be the biggest crisis of our lifetime by scientists, is rarely presented as fact, but rather an issue for debate. It is also seldom presented as a social and racial justice issue. However, communities of color bear the weight of the crisis with significant health issues, limited food supply, and contaminated water (Green America).

It's Friday! And we're rounding out this week's content with a call for environmental protections, written by Renée. This was a hot topic in the third U.S. Presidential debate last night, the first time the topic of environmental justice was discussed directly. And each candidate had different views on the subject.

Tomorrow is Study Hall, our weekly Q+A. I've had a ton of questions this week but send in yours anyway; we've got quite a growing list in the works and I hope to whittle them all down soon.

Thank you for supporting this newsletter. If you'd like, you can give one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly or annually on Patreon. I really appreciate it.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Follow and learn from Black environmental journalists like Talia Buford, Justin Worland, and Brenton Mock.
Look around your community/neighborhood. Where do you see an influx of coal plants, factories, or refineries? Before reading, did you ever question why low-income areas or Black communities had more pollutant producers? If not, why not?
How do you (or will you) advocate for environmental protections for communities of color?
Review how the Presidential candidates stand on the environment and global warming.

GET EDUCATED

By Renée Cherez (she/her)

If the first presidential debate was any indication of how the current administration is tackling climate change --then we’d better get ready for what’s to come. With only eleven minutes spent on the global issue, it was the first time a moderator presented the climate crisis on a presidential debate stage in twenty years (The Guardian).

The American south is not new to fighting for environmental justice. As a reaction to discriminatory environmental practices, including toxic dumping that negatively affects communities of color, the environmental justice movement was born (AVoice). Coined by Dr. Benjamin Chavis in 1982, “environmental racism” was born after an electrical transformers manufacturer emptied tons of cancer-causing PCB waste along 240-miles of North Carolina highways (The Guardian).

When the time came for cleaning the waste, the North Carolina government chose the predominantly Black town of Warren, North Carolina, to become home to a toxic waste facility (The Guardian). Decades later, Black and Brown communities are still home to deadly pollutants. Polluters actively seek low-income areas to dump their waste and often decide based on race rather than class (Green America). Multi-millionaires at the fossil fuel industry’s helm and politicians who hold their interests earn millions of dollars while marginalized communities are poisoned with pollutants.

Fenceline communities-- communities located closest to oil and natural gas refineries are disproportionately African-American (ColorLines). A joint report by the NAACP, Clean Air Task Force (CATF), and the National Medical Association (NMA) found that nearly 7 million African Americans live near oil refineries and pollution operations, causing 9 million tons of pollutants emitted annually. These emissions are responsible for 138,000 asthma attacks a year for school-aged children (CATF).

These communities are composed of predominantly low-income people of color. Consequently, African-Americans are 75% more likely to live in fence-line communities and are exposed to 38% more polluted air than white Americans (CATF). Also increasing: the number of African-Americans who live within a half-mile of an existing natural gas facility. With over one million residents and counting, we can expect exposure to toxic air emissions will likely turn to cancer risks for many African-Americans in these communities (CATF).

"Racism is “inexorably” linked to climate change...because it dictates who benefits from activities that produce planet-warming gases and who suffers most from the consequences.”
Penn State meteorologist Gregory Jenkins, via Washington Post.

African Americans make up 14 percent of the U.S. population, yet 68% live within 30 miles of a coal-fired power plant compared to 56% of white people (Green America). Latinos make up 17% of the U.S. population, but 39% live within a 30-mile radius from a coal plant. Native lands have been stolen and are home to coal reserves resulting in tribes across North America experiencing the toxic effects from plants and coal mines (Green America).

Over the last four years, we’ve seen significant environmental protections put in place to protect our right to clean air and water stripped by the current administration. Since his 2017 inauguration, Trump has rolled back 100 of the most major climate and environmental protections (NYT). Perhaps the most significant to African American communities is his deregulation of methane emissions (CATF). Methane, the leading cause of climate change, is a greenhouse gas that traps 86 times more heat than carbon dioxide, which accelerates global warming (ACS). The Trump administration has canceled an Obama-era policy that required oil and gas companies to report their emissions, making it easier to pollute Black and Brown communities (EPA).

When we think about places like Flint, Michigan, Newark, New Jersey, and Standing Rock, they are perfect examples of BIPOC reaping the dire benefits of environmental racism, even in a pandemic (Vox).

An Obama-era clean water regulation that curbed the amount of pollution and chemicals in the country’s rivers, lakes, streams, and wetlands was also repealed by the Trump administration (CNBC). The goal: to protect 60% of the country’s water from contamination, but with it repealed, polluters can discharge toxic substances into waterways without a permit, which harms sources of safe drinking water and habitats for wildlife (CNBC).

Last month, federal judges pushed back against Trump’s fossil fuel agenda, citing they downplayed potential environmental damage in lawsuits over oil and gas leases, coal mining, and pipelines to transport fuels across the country (AP News).

As one of the world’s biggest greenhouse gas emitters, America's choice to use fossil fuels over cleaner and healthier energy disproportionately affect communities of color. As these communities continue to fight for environmental protections, white people and those with privilege must challenge their local and state officials about new pipelines, plants, and refineries in communities of color. These communities have been fighting for the most basic needs – clean air and water –for decades, and it’s time for the privileged to join their fight.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Fenceline communities – communities located closest to oil and natural gas refineries – are disproportionately African-American.
The Trump administration has rolled back 100 of the most major climate and environmental protections.
68% of African Americans live within 30 miles of a coal-fired power plant.

RELATED ISSUES

10/11/2020 | Support climate justice.

9/29/2020 | Learn about climate migration.

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

7/24/2020 | Reduce your plastic consumption.

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/22/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/22/20

Stop tone policing.

Tone policing is generally defined as “a conversational tactic that dismisses the ideas being communicated when they are perceived to be delivered in an angry, frustrated, sad, fearful, or otherwise emotionally charged manner” (Dictionary). It can be used by anyone against anyone else, but we see it leveraged often against someone when they discuss the harm that has happened to them, and usually by the ones that created the harm.

Hello again and happy Thursday (I double-checked this time, it's actually Thursday).

I introduced the topic of tone policing in last Saturday's Study Hall, which got a love of responses (and a lot of love, thank you all for making this a safe and supportive learning environment). I realized then that we hadn't really dived into it here yet, and that it's an important part of dismantling interpersonal racism. We've touched on several other related topics in previous newsletters, but today I'm teasing it out in full. If you're a new reader, I highly encourage reading the related posts for more context!

Thank you to everyone that's chipped in to support our work. If you'd like, you can give one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly or annually on Patreon. I really appreciate it.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Don’t tone police. Instead, use the opportunity as a time for self-reflection.
Name tone policing when you see it happen against marginalized communities.
Create a culture where you work / live where expressing difficult emotions is normalized.
If you identify as a person of color: Consider how tone policing might show up in your relationship with yourself. How can you reclaim space for your emotions today?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

It’s also something that thrives in the digital space. Because people tend to be more defensive and meaner online than they would in person (KQED), conversations in 2020 are primarily happening online. It’s no surprise to see tone policing pop up so frequently.

Tone policing is one of many ways that dominant culture “polices” people of color (read more in a previous newsletter). It is often used – whether subconsciously or intentionally – to put this person “back in their place.” It doesn’t just attempt to discredit what the person is saying. It implies that they are not worthy of the time and attention until they play by the rules of the oppressor. And these rules are rooted in sexist and racist ideals of how marginalized people are “supposed to act” in society today.

For people of color, particularly Black people, these rules are referred to by “respectability politics.” The term was coined by Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham in her book Righteous Discontent, which outlined the Black women’s movement in the Black Baptists church (Harvard). It explains how Black people were told that if they could prove that they can overcome the “wild savages” tropes white people enforced about their identity, they may deserve equal rights (The Undefeated).

This notion is invalid on many fronts: first, it operates off the false assumptions that white people shared to reinforce ideas of slavery and discrimination. More on this in a previous newsletter. But it’s also a rule that always works in the oppressor’s favor. What this may look like depends on the viewer, not the subject. And does this imply that every white person is the depiction of perfection all the time? How is it that white men can be angry, but Black men, according to respectability politics, cannot? Most urgently, why does respect need to be earned instead of granted based on our collective humanness?

Racial tone policing is a form of microaggressions that people of color experience often (read more on microagressions in a previous newsletter). Comments like “I just don’t understand why you’re so angry all the time,” or “people would listen to you if you were a bit more polite,” are common forms of tone policing. Black people will be referred to as “aggressive,” which attempts to justify control or dominance. More straightforward, many people will say, “I don’t like your tone,” which is usually used in a foreboding way. You better not keep going, or else…

"
The underlying tone in many of these well-meaning messages is that, even in speaking about my experiences with racism, microaggressions, and discrimination, there is a right way and a wrong way to share. I am told that if I modify my message to be more palatable to the masses, my message will be better received. This demonstrates that people will dismiss your experiences unless it fits in the box of how they want to receive it.
Dr. Janice Gassam Asare, author and founder, for Business Insider.

But it can also be straight-up aggression – people will take more violent action because they believe that someone’s tone is putting them at risk. Consider the Amy Cooper story. The initial video showed that she called the police on Christian Cooper for “threatening” him when he clearly wasn’t. But further investigations found that she actually called the police a second time, indicating that Cooper had “tried to assault her” (NYTimes). She went beyond using words to police his “tone” to bringing in actual police with a clear intent to cause harm. Without the video, which has gained over 45 million views, we may never have known what happened to Christian Cooper. His “tone,” paired with a history of racism in law enforcement, could have cost him his freedom – or even his life.

Racial tone policing is especially toxic in the feminist space. Tone policing is often inflicted upon women by men, like, for example, when calling out toxic masculinity. Perhaps it’s why white women are often quick to apply the same harm against women of color. And echoing the “rules of the oppressor” point from before, why can’t women of color express their own sentiments of anger and frustration in a patriarchal system? Academic, writer and lecturer Rachel Cargle explains this well in her article on white supremacy in feminism:

"
When women of color begin to cry out about their pain, frustration, and utter outrage with the system that is continuing to allow our men to be murdered, our babies to be disregarded, and our livelihood to be dismissed, we are often met with white women who tell us perhaps we should “say things a little nicer” if we want to be respected and heard.

Rachel Cargle in Harper’s Bazaar.

Often, these external signals can start to influence how people of color express themselves in the future. This is a form of internalized racism, or a “personal conscious or subconscious acceptance of the racist view of dominant society” (TAARM). For me personally, this looks like me being too afraid to share my feelings because I don’t want to come off as aggressive or blaming myself for not thinking about my words more carefully when someone labels me as “angry.” As you can imagine, this often leads to me diminishing my own voice, often to protect myself from perceived harm from people around me. There was a point in my life where I would have never started this newsletter. More psychologists call for practitioners to address the adverse effects of internalized racism, along with external racism, due to the subtle differences (Society of Clinical Psychology).

What’s most heartbreaking to me is that tone policing can strip people of their emotions. Oftentimes, people experience a form of tone policing when they are experiencing difficult emotions. And if there’s a time that we deserve grace, I believe it’s then – when we feel vulnerable and exposed, overwhelmed or frustrated, afraid or fearful. People who wield tone policing as a weapon are insinuating that their discomfort is more important than others’ distress. They are often in a position of relative power and privilege, granting them more safety inherently.

Remember that the histories and narratives of people of color do not need to be packaged for white consumption to be valid. Stories of pain or heartbreak, overcoming adversity or joy, do not need to be packaged in a way that feels approachable or useful to anyone, regardless of race. Attention on racial issues is accelerated when someone inflicts violence against a Black body on video, shared and reposted for the world to see. Not through peaceful marches, published books and works of art, thoughtful critique on television shows, or when calls for accountability are sent following protocol at a company. So what is more important – the pain people experience or the pain dominant culture experiences when they’re forced to witness it?

And if their tone challenges you, use it as an opportunity for self-reflection. What is their language challenging inside me? Where is my emotional response to this coming from? If I feel this way, how must this other person feel at this moment? This is not another burden for people of color to carry, but yours to reckon with. Regardless of what you do, get out of the way: liberation will not wait for any approval.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Tone policing is generally defined as “a conversational tactic that dismisses the ideas being communicated when they are perceived to be delivered in an angry, frustrated, sad, fearful, or otherwise emotionally charged manner” (Dictionary).
Tone policing is one of many ways that dominant culture “polices” people of color. It is often used – whether subconsciously or intentionally – to put this person “back in their place.”
The histories and narratives of people of color do not need to be packaged for white consumption to be valid.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/21/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/21/20

Change racist sports team names.

This fall, after months of coronavirus restrictions, professional sports in the United States have returned to something close to normal (MarketWatch). MLB playoffs are in full swing, Lebron James won his fourth NBA championship last week, and the NFL regular season continues every Sunday. But as a large portion of the United States undergoes a racial reckoning, professional sports are working to adjust accordingly.

Welcome back, and happy Wednesday! Real talk: I don't watch much sports. So I was celebrating the name change of the football team based in DC without fully realizing how much further we need to go. I'm delighted to introduce Charlie Lahud-Zahner, who breaks down the importance of changing all the names of racist sports teams. And, if I add, extending the same sentiment to schools, cities and other spaces in need of a rebrand.

Nothing makes me happier than sharing this platform with other talented writers. And that's all because of you. Thank you to everyone that's chipped in to support our work. If you'd like, you can give one time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly or annually on Patreon. I really appreciate it.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Get educated about the specific histories behind sports teams' names. Start with this Texas Tribune article unveiling the violent history behind the original Texas Rangers.

Use social media to put pressure on these teams and team owners to change their problematic team names:

Cleveland Indians (@indians)

Texas Rangers (@rangers)

Braves (@braves)

San Francisco 49ers (@49ers)

Kansas City Chiefs (@cheifs)

GET EDUCATED

By Charlie Lahud-Zahner (he/him)

Back in July, the owner of the football team formerly known as the Washington Redskins bowed to pressure from corporate sponsors (including Pepsi, Nike, and FedEx) and agreed to change the team name to the Washington Football Team (Washington Post). However, as Suzan Shown Harjo (a Cheyenne and Hodulgee Muscogee activist who has rallied against the Redskins name for more than 40 years) noted, one would hope that financial pressure from investors would come before a state-sanctioned killing, not after (Washington Post).

“All of a sudden...they’re saying, ‘Change the name,’ and what’s the difference — George Floyd was murdered before the world and corporate America woke up,” said Harjo (NY Times).

Though Indigenous activists like Harjo have been pushing against racist sports teams long before FedEx and Nike, only now that white/corporate America has expressed interest in racial inequality as “corporate activists” have popular sports teams undergone renewed scrutiny (NPR).

Even names that seem benign to most people, like the San Francisco 49ers, have a racist history. As a Mexican-American living in California, I know how this state that was once part of Mexico was originally Indigenous land (Library of Congress). Through celebrating and maintaining focus on California’s white colonial history, the 49ers are one of many teams that exemplify the erasure of Indigenous people through celebrating the “glory” of white colonial history.

The historical psyche of California’s Bay Area is built around the California Gold Rush (PBS). In January 1848, James Wilson Marshall discovered gold flakes in Northern California, near modern-day Sacramento. A few days afterward, after the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, that land effectively passed from Mexico to the United States. The ensuing gold fever led to an international mass migration to the Bay Area in 1849—hence the name the“49ers” (History.com).

For many in California, the legend behind this period of economic growth is the legend of the American frontier: a mythology that rugged white settlers moved west to build and cultivate this land by the skin of their teeth (The Conversation). Accordingly, the San Francisco 49ers mascot is “Sourdough Sam,'' a goofy pick-ax wielding, Levi-loving Paul Bunyan looking character seemingly on the hunt for errant treasure.

However, this seemingly innocuous character and narrative ignore the fact that the Gold Rush happened in conjunction with the genocide of Native Californians. While the year 1849 was “historic” for white settlers, it was disastrous for the various tribes who had settled in the Bay Area for the 10,000 years prior (Culture Trip). The white miners, with help from the state and federal forces, murdered up to 16,000 Indigenous people of various Bay Area tribes. Today the Muwekma Ohlone tribe is recognized as a conglomerate of “all of the known surviving American Indian lineages aboriginal to the San Francisco Bay region” (Muwekma Ohlone).

Peter Hardermann Burnet, California’s first governor, told legislators in 1851 that “a war of extermination will continue to be waged between the races until the Indian race becomes extinct...the inevitable destiny of the race is beyond the power or wisdom of man to avert” (History.com). Local and state militias receiving state funding systematically killed, and even scalped, Native Americans. Nearly 80% of the 150,000 Native Americans who lived in California pre-gold rush were wiped out through disease or killings (KCET.org)

The 49ers are only one of many professional (and semi-professional) American sports teams that reference to violence against Native peoples or directly use Indigenous imagery in their team names. In the NFL, the Kansas City Chiefs are being pressured to change their name (USA Today), and in the MLB, the Braves, Indians, and Rangers have been the subject of discussion. When Kansas City played San Francisco in Super Bowl LIV back in January, writer Vincent Shilling accurately referred to the game as the “Genocide Bowl” (Indian Country Today).

Learning more about the history of racist team names brings light to the reality of the United States being built at the cost of—or on the backs of—Indigenous, Black, and Brown Americans. Changing team names isn’t about obscuring or erasing our history. It’s about refusing to glorify genocide and the gross characterization of Indigenous peoples. It’s completely possible to acknowledge a dark history without venerating false idols in sports. (Yes, I’m looking at you, Sourdough Sam).

Yet there is growing evidence that change can happen slowly. Besides the Washington Football Team, other organizations have also changed their team names or mascots in recent years. The Cleveland Indians removed “Chief Wahoo,” a racist caricature of a Native American man from their jerseys in 2019 (Global Sport Matters), the Chicago Blackhawks recently banned headdresses at home games (CNN) and, as of late September, the University of Illinois is moving closer to choosing a mascot to replace “Chief Illiniwek” (Chicago Tribune).

In 2013, when asked about removing the slur from the Washington Redskins’ name, owner Dan Snyder callously claimed, "We’ll never change the name. It’s that simple. NEVER — you can use caps” (USA Today).

He was wrong. Seven years later, he changed the name. And if we can educate ourselves, keep the pressure on these teams, and advocate for change, more teams will follow suit.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Many professional sports teams, such as the Kansas City Chiefs and the Cleveland Indians, have names or mascots that revere genocide and/or racial violence.
The San Francisco 49ers are named after the gold miners of 1849 who, with help from the state, killed thousands of Indigenous residents.
We can create change. In 2013, the owner of the Washington Redskins claimed he would never change the team’s name. In 2020, bowing to public pressure, the name was changed to the Washington Football Team.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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

Support #EndSARS.

Citizens in Nigeria have been protesting since early October against police brutality, gaining international attention. More people have died from police brutality than COVID-19 since the nation’s lockdown (BBC), and decades of abuse have prompted youth organizers to take to the streets and social media to demand change. Demonstrations in solidarity have been organized in cities around the world, including Atlanta, Berlin, New York, and London (NYTimes). As protests escalate in Abuja, the nation’s capital, so does the violence against the protestors in a series of organized attacks (BBC). But the movement shows no sign of slowing down.

In a letter from the Birmingham city jail in 1963, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” This quote came to mind as I read about the protests against police brutality in Nigeria, which echo the same sentiment of many of us in the U.S. Today's email encourages us to draw awareness and accountability to these protests, and keep a global perspective on our anti-racism work.

Thank you for supporting this platform. Our work is made possible because of your thoughtful contributions. If you'd like to help pay our team of BIPOC writers and editors, you can give by...

Giving on our website, PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Subscribing monthly or annually on Patreon

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Donate to the Feminist Coalition, a group of young Nigerian feminists formed in July 2020 rallying to End SARS.
Share and repost content using the hashtag #ENDSARS to drive international awareness and accountability.
Stay informed on global events. Add one news outlet that doesn’t focus on your home country to your weekly news consumption.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

The Special Anti-Robbery Squad, referred to as SARS, is a unit of the Nigerian Police Force. It operates undercover, wearing plainclothes and driving unmarked vehicles. It was intentionally designed to root out corruption in stealth (Washington Post). But that anonymity has been co-opted for manipulation. Through the years, disturbing reports of violence and corruption have mounted against SARS. Amnesty International has documented at least 82 cases of “torture, ill treatment and extra-judicial execution” by SARS between January 2017 and May 2020 (Amnesty). Dare Olaitan, a 29-year-old filmmaker, reflects on being pulled over multiple times and forced to withdraw cash from the ATM (Washington Post). More damning reports of torture were found on detainees of SARS victims, often carried out by high-ranking police officers (Amnesty).

“No circumstances whatsoever may be invoked as a justification of torture. In many cases the victims are the poor and vulnerable, easy targets for law enforcement officers whose responsibility it is to protect them.”
Osai Ojigho, Director of Amnesty International Nigeria

Most of these victims are young men between the ages of 18 and 35, which is important to note (Amnesty). Nearly half of Nigeria’s population of 182 million is below age 30, one of the world’s largest concentrations of young people (NYTimes). This young generation has quickly swelled the protests into an international movement by organizing both online and off, using Twitter in particular to spread awareness of the growing unrest. As of Friday, October 16th, the hashtag #EndSARS was posted on Twitter over 3.3M million times, generating over 744,000 retweets.

Despite this, the Nigerian government has failed to take action. Shortly after protests swelled, Nigeria’s government announced that SARS would be disbanded. But citizens are not convinced. This is the fourth time the government has said they would dissolve SARS, aptly described by Gimba Kakand as “old wine in a new bottle” (Time). This time, they gave it a new designation: Special Weapons and Tactics Team, or SWAT, which, for what it’s worth, doesn’t exactly sound like a reassuring change of pace.

Protesters aren’t going to quit until the president takes more action not just to disband SARS, but implement more comprehensive solutions, including psychological evaluations for reassigned SARS officers, better pay for officers, and compensation for victims of police violence (NYTimes). And this movement is transforming into a broader call for accountability for other injustices, like widespread poverty and political corruption (Time). These issues are partially why 45% of Nigerian adults said they plan to move to another country sometime within the next five years – and why most of all African immigrants to the U.S. are Nigerian (Pew Research).

Does these calls for justice sound familiar? It should – they mirror the racial reckoning that’s unfolded in the U.S. over the past few months. And that’s part of why this movement is gathering so much attention here in the states, which traditionally falls silent when it comes to international issues. Nigeria is, by population, the largest Black nation in the world. Standing for justice is an act of solidarity for Black people everywhere, regardless of which country they call home. It’s also a way to act in solidarity with the tens of thousands of Nigerian Americans who face the same police brutality in the U.S. It’s no surprise that the most outspoken celebrities on this issue are Black (CNN).

“True to what's happening in the U.S. and around the world, with the pandemic, people have just been pushed until they break. They're already living paycheck to paycheck, living at the margins of society in terms of the ability to survive, and then you have police who are brutalizing them. It's like, how much can you take from us? So the fact that our lives are quite literally being taken and snuffed out and we're being brutalized and beaten, you know...it's just, "Enough." The imagery and the rallying cries are so incredibly similar, because the issues are connected; poor governance, poverty, injustice in every system, from health care to high unemployment rates to the criminalization of poor people.”
Opal Tometi, co-founder of Black Lives Matter, for Vogue.

And, there’s also a direct link between the violence inflicted by police officers in Nigeria and the U.S. In the past, our law enforcement has trained members of the Nigerian police in human rights. Prince Williams County in Virginia, the same that used tear gas and rubber bullets against peaceful protesters this summer (Prince Williams Times), provided a “hands-on, scenario-based approach” in stability restoration (U.S. Embassy). The U.S. has also sold equipment and weapons to the Nigerian army and security forces (Washington Post). As residents of the U.S., we must hold ourselves accountable. But as a nation, we must hold ourselves responsible for our contributions to this injust system.

Moreover, police brutality is a global issue. Whether you’re in Brazil or the Philippines, China, or Canada, people around the world have been reckoning with state-sanctioned violence, much of which is rooted in racial bias. When we stay silent on police brutality beyond our border, it further normalizes it everywhere, including on our home turf. So can we commit to re-investing in community services that support not just our country but the whole world?

With technology, countries are closer than ever. And what we do here reverberates around the world. We need to stand for the injustices we face here – and around the globe. More urgently, we need to listen and learn from the activists dismantling oppression in their communities as we do the same in ours. Perhaps awareness of the similarities countries around the globe are facing will drive more empathy than xenophobia, and unite us in a collective path for liberation.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

#EndSars is a youth-led movement to end police brutality in Nigeria
Police brutality is a national and global issue, standing up for injustice needs to be here and everywhere
Although SARS has been "disbanded" by the government, protests are calling for more comprehensive accountability

RELATED ISSUES

6/22/2020 | Talk about our right to protest.

9/24/2020 | Demand justice for Breonna Taylor.

6/10/2020 | Defund the police.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/19/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/19/20

Support restorative justice in schools.

Restorative justice is an approach to resolve conflict that “repairs the harm caused by a crime” (Centre for Justice and Reconciliation). It differs from enacting a reactionary approach to crime by simply applying some kind of punitive measures that, in schools, would look like detention, suspension, or expulsion. Instead, restorative justice tries to address the root of the harm via collaboration between offender and victim in circles and moderated discussions.

It's Monday and we're continuing our reporting on making education more equitable, a growing initiative as cities across the U.S. analyze the relationship between schools and the criminal justice system. Rainier, a writer and high school senior, encourages us to support restorative justice in our local school systems – and why it's critical to this work.

Thank you for supporting us! Our newsletter is made possible by your contributions. You can join in by...

Giving on our website, PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Subscribing monthly or annually on Patreon

ps – the Anti-Racism Daily Podcast is here! I'll be hosting conversations on the most impactful ways to take action around critical current events, and interviewing inspiring changemakers. Listen to the trailer on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.

TAKE ACTION

Facilitate conversation within your school community between offender and victim by moderating discussions.
Encourage transparency in the way your school handles disciplinary measures.
Petition to have student involvement in their school’s disciplinary decisions.

GET EDUCATED

By Rainier Harris (he/him)

Restorative justice is typically looked at through the lens of the criminal justice system, but it can help school communities as well. As school reconvenes and race becomes a discussion topic for classes across the country, people are bound to get some things wrong. Race is an extremely complex, abstract, intricate subject, and it is difficult to “get it right” the first time you talk about it.

As these mistakes arise, it is essential that school communities do not take a purely punitive approach to the offenders but instead allow everyone ample space to grow and learn. This does not mean that people who use well-known slurs such as the n-word should be treated tenderly. Restorative justice comes with the basic assumption that everybody has good intentions and means no harm. But, it also implies that they have basic knowledge at a certain age of what is outright inappropriate and unacceptable.

There are several restorative justice practices to implement within school communities, such as facilitation between offender and victim, peer mediation in conflict resolution centers, hosting dialogue circles, and student integration following suspension.

For restorative justice to work, it requires students to trust the process, or else it can wield shaky results (Hechinger Report). Restorative justice allows everyone within the community to be held accountable amongst each other. But that can only happen if people are not forced to participate and willingly partake in it.

In peer mediation circles, students who may get into a fight, for example, “talk it out” amongst each other in hopes of intervening before the issue turns into an even bigger problem (NPR). In dialogue circles, students sit in a large circular shape facing one another. Here, they can check-in with each other, settle minor disputes, and perhaps even hold academic interventions (Edutopia). Even after a student has done a suspendable offense, restorative justice can allow for integration through hosting circles with parents, school administrators, and the student to find the best path forward in the school (Christian Science Monitor).

In restorative justice, people are allowed to make mistakes without racist sentiments percolating. How effectively restorative justice applies is largely predicated on the intentions of the student. While the student’s true intentions may never be known, you can get a more holistic view of the student by including peers, teachers, parents, and administrators in the decision, not just administrators handing down a punishment onto the student.

“Did the student know what they said was racist? What was the context in which they said it, and how can that be misconstrued? Did they apologize?” These are the serious questions that schools can use to assess a student’s intentions.

Restorative justice has also been proven to prevent students from falling into the school-to-prison pipeline (The Praxis Project). Teachers also benefit from restorative justice as it has been proven to improve the behavior in the classroom dramatically (We Are Teachers).

Especially now in the middle of a pandemic, unemployment spiking, and remote learning, restorative justice is needed more than ever. Schools don’t know what is going on in a student’s home and if expulsion might make it infeasible for them to pay for another school in time. Additionally, the emotional burden the pandemic has brought on all of us may bring added stress and increase our capabilities to slip-up and make mistakes.

Most essentially, restorative justice addresses the roots of the harm, making it less likely for the same thing to happen again. It brings us all to a greater understanding of not just what was harmful, but why it was – and what can we do better. It forces us to look introspectively at our roles in our environment and evaluate how we can be better within that space.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Restorative justice is a more productive approach to resolving community issues and disagreements than punitive measures.
People have to willingly participate in restorative justice practices in order for it to work.
The same restorative justice practices must apply to everyone to hold the entire community accountability.

7/8/2020 | Investigate school district funding disparities.

7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/18/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/18/20

Respect the Black Panther Party.

I went to a predominantly white high school, and one thing I’ve noticed is that Black history is typically represented in the background. The Civil Rights Movement was condensed into one chapter in my American history textbook, only including the names of “peaceful” leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks. In fact, in 2015, statistics showed that “1 to 2 lessons or 8–9 percent of total class time is devoted to Black history in U.S. history classrooms” (SocialStudies.org). But these narratives tend to leave out important parts of history like the Black Panther Party.

Happy Sunday! As I've watched conversations on the Michigan domestic terrorism plot, and the armed groups showing up at protests, I'm reminded of how different the narrative of the Black Panther Party was in the 1960s. Olivia joins us today to share her perspective on how race influences how our country responds to movements for liberation, and its impact on the perception of the BPP.

You can help our work thrive! Make a one-time or monthly contribution:

Give on our website, PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza
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TAKE ACTION

Watch the PBS documentary The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution for a more robust picture.
Write letters to incarcerated Black Panthers and donate directly to them. Find ways to support Black Panther Party members still serving time in prison.
Demand diversity in the curriculum for history courses with a more comprehensive look at Black history.

GET EDUCATED

By Olivia Harden (she/her)

The BPP, no doubt, has a complicated and violent history. The story of its growth includes shootouts with police officers, political imprisonment, and insidious government surveillance (San Francisco Chronicle). But the United States government vilified the organization from its conception, informing the narrative that we have today. As our world attunes itself to addressing police brutality and murders, the history of the organization’s ideology and its legacy can inform current cries for change and revolution.

In 1966, Matthew Johnson, an unarmed Black teenager, was shot down by a police officer – sparking outrage in the same way George Floyd and Breonna Taylor’s killings have this year (History). That October, Huey Newton, and Bobby Seale founded the Black Panther Party for Self Defense in Oakland, CA (History). They used the advantage of the Second Amendment and the open-carry law in California at the time to patrol the police, watching from a safe distance while carrying rifles to intimidate officers into following the law. In response to this, Ronald Regan and the statehouse passed the Mulford Act in 1967, prohibiting the open carry of loaded firearms (History).

This image tends to define the BPP – Black militants with huge afros, black leather jackets, and berets carrying huge rifles and other guns openly in the street. But what more people need to know is that the Black Panther Party for Self Defense was created to be an organization in service to the Black community. They made a Ten-Point Program to stop racism and protect and liberate Black Americans (BLM Syllabus). The Ten-Point Program denounces capitalism and demands things like guaranteed employment, housing, expansive education, healthcare, and the end of police brutality. Many of these asks are the same calls-to-action that activists are fighting for today.

The Black Panther Party also created many of its own social programs. A big hit was the free breakfast program for Black children (History). Studies have shown that kids who eat breakfast are generally healthier and do better in schools (No Kid Hungry). The Panthers would feed children before school for free. At its peak, it reached thousands of children daily. Other programs included free clinics, sickle cell anemia research, and free ambulance services (Insider).

Parallels exist between the present-day Black Lives Matter movement and the Black Panther movement’s goal of liberation. The treatment of the Black Lives Matter movement in the media and by the government is tightly intertwined too. At the time, J. Edgar Hoover used the FBI's COINTELPRO to "expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, and otherwise neutralize using tactics like tapping party members phones and infiltration" (fbi.gov). Present-day, police forces track activists’ movements, both online (CNN) and by using facial recognition technology (The Verge). Ninety-three percent of protests were peaceful this summer, but violent ones received more media attention (Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project). A question that continues to pop up for me – should the state have a monopoly on violence? I challenge you to ask yourself, are buildings more important than Black lives?

Race often informs the way the United States responds to an issue. For example, the NRA supported the Mulford Act decision in 1967 (History). But today, the organization is adamant for loose restrictions related to gun ownership, despite the rise of school shootings and gun-related violence across the U.S. (Forbes). The organization’s actions indicate how society views which citizens are allowed to wield power and protest in modern-day times.

Point 5 of the BPP’s Ten-Point Plan is as follows:

“WE WANT DECENT EDUCATION FOR OUR PEOPLE THAT EXPOSES THE TRUE NATURE OF THIS DECADENT AMERICAN SOCIETY. WE WANT EDUCATION THAT TEACHES US OUR TRUE HISTORY AND OUR ROLE IN THE PRESENT-DAY SOCIETY. We believe in an educational system that will give to our people a knowledge of the self. If you do not have knowledge of yourself and your position in society and in the world, then you will have little chance to know anything else.”

Education about Black people in American history is not just for Black people. It’s crucial for all of us. A comprehensive approach is key to moving forward towards a just future.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Black Panther Party does have a violent past, but its goals laid out a plan to support and uplift Black people.
The Black Panther Party for Self Defense’s complex past can inform our future.
The U.S. must be held accountable for its racist past.

RELATED ISSUES

9/11/2020 | Protect Black women.

7/26/2020 | Pay attention to the Portland protests.

10/1/2020 | Vote Trump out of office.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/17/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/17/20

Study Hall! Tone policing and language.

Welcome to our weekly Study Hall. Each week I answer questions and share insights from each of you in our community. This week I dove deeper on some pressing topics from our community.

Welcome to our weekly Study Hall. Each week I answer questions and share insights from each of you in our community. This week I dove deeper on some pressing topics from our community.

If you subscribe to just the weekly digest, this is the email you will receive. You can click through to read all original pieces via the archives, and get the recap in one place. Change your email preferences by updating your profile information here.

As always, your support is greatly appreciated. You can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $7/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Reflect on the questions prompted by our community.
Discuss with a friend: how did you learn about slavery growing up? How does that inform your perception on the civil rights movement of today?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

We've published 136 newsletters on racism over the past 136 days. Here are the newsletters we published this week.

10/16/2020 | Abolish the grand jury.

10/15/2020 | Understand Judge Amy Coney Barrett's stance on racism.

10/14/2020 | Make the outdoors more equitable.

10/13/2020 | Support Chinatown during COVID-19.

10/12/2020 | Honor Indigenous Peoples’ Day.

10/11/2020 | Support climate justice.

Read all previously published newsletters on our archives >

Q+A

I have to say, the language in this is super harsh. I feel if the writer was nicer with their tone they'd get more of us white people to actually do better.
From Make the outdoors more equitable on 10/14/2020.

This is tone policing, a personal attack against someone for expressing emotion to detract from the validity of the statement itself. This can be wielded against anyone, but it's particularly harmful when it's leveraged in conversations on inequity – including race.

"At its best, tone policing is an irritating behavior pattern that blocks meaningful conversation. But at its worst, tone policing is an insidious and sometimes hard-to-grasp method of reinforcing elitism and structural racism". Naomi Day, Medium

The stories we publish here are valid regardless of how they make you – the reader – feel. And to be in this work we must be committed to making space for the pain and trauma that individuals experience, and how they choose to express it. Honoring both the message and the tone is a way to acknowledge another's humanness. In contrast, placing your own slight discomfort above the suffering of another is a form of oppression. And there's no space for that here – in this work, and particularly in the discourse of this newsletter. I'm proud to share a wide range of stories and perspectives.

Q+A

There's no Chinatown in my community. How can I help other Chinatowns?
From Support Chinatown during COVID-19 on 10/13/2020.

If you can't support one in your direct community, consider adding a visit the next time you're in a city that includes one! And although there might not be a Chinatown per se, I can imagine there are Asian American-owned businesses that have also experienced some type of anti-Asian racism or bias since COVID-19 launched. Go and support them.

We also have additional resources in a previous newsletter on standing against this rise of anti-Asian racism. You can stand for representation at your business, in your local city council, your child's schools, and other community touchpoints.

Q+A

I noticed you used ACB as an acronym for Judge Amy Coney Barrett. I'm worried conservative are doing this to make her feel like the next RBG, which is a major NO for me. How can we stop this association?
From Understand Judge Amy Coney Barrett's stance on racism on 10/15/2020.

Whew I hear you on this! I can imagine that many are quick to insert Judge Barrett into the same fervor of appreciation and respect that Justice Ginsburg gleaned in her tenure. And a three-letter abbreviation does help.

But I think these abbreviations are more akin to how social media dominates how we stay informed. With constraints around tweet and Instagram copy length (and subject lines, which is where I abbreviated to ACB) it's difficult to share without the abbreviation, especially when many include the word "Judge" in front as a sign of respect. We are quick to shorthand, not just to show our affinity and familiarity, but for brevity's sake, too.

We've also got many men historically that have the same monikers – MLK, FDR, LBJ, JFK, and RFK, for starters.

CLARIFICATIONS

10/15/2020 | Understand Judge Amy Coney Barrett's stance on racism.
As I built the case for Judge Barrett's stance on racism, I wanted to focus on how racism influenced issues such as abortion, immigration, etc. But as I did that I somehow forgot to include the issue that sparked me to investigate this the first place:

Judge Barrett was a judge on a 2019 case involving a Black Illinois transportation employee who sued the department after he was fired, citing that his supervisor had "created a hostile work environment and called him the N-word" (NPR).

When ruling on whether race played a factor, Judge Barrett stated that "being called the N-word by a former supervisor was not sufficient — in the context of that one particular case — to support a claim of a racially-based hostile work environment".

Many people are using this to say that Judge Barrett believes that the N-word is not racist. From what I understand watching the confirmation, it was more of a statement that this was the only racially-motivated example of a hostile work environment submitted for the judges' consideration, and there weren't more examples to substantiate the claim. It's still messed up, but not as damaging as the highlights I read. This encouraged me to dive deeper.

9/19/2020 | Study Hall! Equity v. equality and the burden on WOC.

9/12/2020 | Study Hall! Youth activism, Prop 22, and being multiracial.

9/5/2020 | Study Hall! Defund the police or add more training?

8/29/2020 | Study Hall! The trauma of police brutality videos, active bystander trainings.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/16/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/16/20

Abolish the grand jury.

Many of us are still reeling from the grand jury decision that brought no charges against the police officer that killed Breonna Taylor, as we covered in a previous newsletter. And yet, of course, many of us were not surprised. We’ve seen this before. We’ve seen how the grand jury cleared the officer that killed Michael Brown in Ferguson (NYTimes), and how things haven’t changed since then. We’ve seen how rarely officers are convicted even if they do get charged (FiveThirtyEight). We have learned not to expect justice from our legal system.

Welcome back! Yesterday many of you emailed with one question: is there anything we CAN do to block this Supreme Court appointment? And aside from calling your senators, we don't have much power to exercise as citizens. But we can get more involved in other aspects of our justice system, which matters more than you may think. I was going to publish this next week, but I feel Jami's thoughtful analysis of the grand jury is a strong follow-up from our conversation yesterday. Read and let me know what you think.

Tomorrow is Study Hall – our weekly reflection on the topics we unpacked this week (and there was a LOT we covered). Send me your questions / thoughts by responding to this email.

You can help our work thrive by making a one-time or monthly contribution. Thank you to everyone that makes this newsletter possible.

Give on our website, PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Subscribe monthly or annually on Patreon

TAKE ACTION

Write to your state legislators asking to abolish the grand jury process for criminal indictments (Connecticut and Pennsylvania already have!)
Spread awareness about the injustice in the grand jury system, as many people do not understand how it works
Reflect: What privilege(s) may you have based on your identity that shapes your understanding of the criminal justice system?

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)

“The police and law were not made to protect us Black and Brown women.”
Tamika Palmer, Breonna Taylor’s mother (VOA News)

Clearly, the grand jury process failed Breonna Taylor. But what is important to note is that it’s not that this grand jury failed her, it’s that all grand juries are inherently structured in a way that is unjust. At a grand jury, there are no defense attorneys present (that is, the defendant does not have access to counsel). There is no judge. The prosecutor is the one asking all the questions, the one who decides what to charge the defendant with, what sentencing to recommend, and whether to offer a plea deal (Harvard Law Review). In other words: all the power lies with the prosecutor, and the prosecutor works for the government as a district or state’s attorney, or in Breonna Taylor’s case, Kentucky Attorney General Daniel Cameron (NPR).

A grand jury differs in many ways from a trial jury. A trial jury is what we think of when we think of the word “jury”: a group of people that decides whether or not the defendant is guilty. This takes place in a courtroom with a judge, with lawyers for both the defense and the prosecution (US Courts). The trial itself is usually public, and the defendant’s counsel can call its own witnesses.

On the other hand, a grand jury happens before a trial. It consists of a group of 16-23 people that decides whether or not there is enough evidence to believe that the defendant has committed a crime (US Courts). As Stanford University law professor Robert Weisberg explains, “A grand jury doesn’t decide guilt or innocence. It decides the preliminary question of whether there’s enough evidence to justify [sending] him to trial in the first place” (Louisville Public Media). It’s an additional step, so it’s used for higher-order crimes. About half the states require a grand jury to press felony charges. In the other half, it’s up to the prosecutor whether to require a grand jury or whether to skip to a trial (FindLaw).

People have been concerned about the injustices inherent in the grand jury system for many years. England, from whom we inherited the system, by and large stopped using the grand jury in 1910s and formally abolished it in 1933 (Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology); its other former colonies, including New Zealand, Australia, and Canada, all have done the same (Slate). The United States has kept this process despite the overwhelming evidence that grand juries “do not (and cannot) protect the accused” (Cornell Law Review).

But these police shooting cases show that the problem is more complex than that. In Breonna Taylor’s case, the police officer was the accused (NPR). And yet he was the one protected by the process, because the grand jury system protects who the prosecutors choose to protect. In most capital criminal cases, they have no motivation to protect the accused—except when the accused are the police.

“Prosecutors work with police day in, day out, and typically they’re reluctant to criticise them or investigate them,” law professor Samuel Walker told The Guardian. In the Guardian’s analysis of 2015 police killings, they found that in one-third of the killings that were ruled as justified “the criminal inquiry work was done by the officer’s own police department, meaning the evidence used to decide if an officer should be prosecuted was prepared by the officer’s co-workers” (The Guardian).

"[Grand juries] are said to be 'putty in the hands of the prosecutor.' In other words, the prosecutor really tells them what he or she wants and they will go along with it,” legal writer Joshua Rozenberg told the public radio newsmagazine The World. Because of the prosecutor’s power in a grand jury, he added: “It must be even easier [to get an acquittal] if that is what the district attorney may actually want." And there are many other problems with the grand jury process that we don’t have space for here. (Harvard Law Review presents a thorough overview of other problems although they call for reform, not abolition.)

Kentucky Attorney General Daniel Cameron was supposed to be prosecuting the police officers but his actions show that he was defending them. “I never had faith in him,” Breonna Taylor’s mother, Tamika Palmer, wrote (NBC News). “I knew he had already chosen to be on the wrong side of the law the moment he wanted the grand jury to make the decision.” The court even released the tapes of the usually-secret grand jury proceedings because of a juror’s complaints against Daniel Cameron (NPR).

Cameron claimed the jurors decide independently of the prosecutor, but that is clearly not the case. In grand juries, the prosecutors shape the case: Cameron had only recommended the charge of wanton endangerment (CBS News). He claims he did this because he would not be able to prove other charges, were the case to go to trial—but convening a grand jury is an easy way to pass the blame onto jurors while also not holding the police accountable.

While a lot of energy is now devoted to defunding and abolishing the police and prisons, we also need to focus on the legal institutions that link these two systems. We need to eliminate the grand jury and reimagine our legal system in general. Though only an amendment to the Constitution could remove the grand jury on a federal level, many states could eliminate it through legislation (Al Jazeera). Connecticut and Pennsylvania have already abolished the use of a grand jury in criminal indictments (FindLaw), so I believe it is possible to make change, state by state.

So contact your legislators. Increase awareness. Promote understanding of the flaws in the system. The grand jury did not bring justice to Breonna, so we need to bring justice to the grand jury. It must be abolished.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The grand jury is an inherently unjust system. It is a secret proceeding whose power lies in the hands of prosecutors who work for the government.
In one-third of “justified” police killings, the “evidence used to decide if an officer should be prosecuted was prepared by the officer’s co-workers” (The Guardian).
The grand jury did not bring justice to Breonna, but we need to bring justice to the grand jury. It must be abolished.
England and its former colonies have all abolished the grand jury system—except for the United States (Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology).

7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.

7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/15/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/15/20

Understand Judge Amy Coney Barrett's stance on racism.

This week, the Senate holds confirmation hearings for Judge Amy Coney Barrett, who was nominated as the next Supreme Court justice appointment. As you watch, be sure to listen for how her confirmation may impact how the U.S. responds to this racial reckoning for decades to come.

Happy Thursday! Today I'm analyzing the Senate confirmation hearings and parsing out Judge Amy Coney Barrett's position on racism. I'm quite (un)surprised by her thoughts on the judicial system's responsibility to racial equity – give me a read and let me know your thoughts.

I'm excited to announce that the Anti-Racism Daily Podcast is here! I'll be hosting conversations on the most impactful ways to take action around critical current events, and interviewing inspiring changemakers. Listen to the trailer on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.

You can help our work thrive by making a one-time or monthly contribution. Thank you to everyone that makes this newsletter possible.

Give on our website, PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza
Subscribe monthly or annually on Patreon

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Contact your senator and tell them there should be no vote on any Supreme Court nominee before January
Stay informed on the issues discussed during the confirmation hearings
Continue to recognize how racism affects the disproportionate impact of significant court decisions

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

The most divisive aspect of Judge Amy Coney Barrett’s potential appointment is abortion. During the confirmation hearings, Judge Barrett has evaded giving a straightforward answer on how she will approach Roe v. Wade during her appointment (The Atlantic). But we do know that Trump vowed to appoint justices who'd vote to overturn it. Anti-abortion advocates are celebrating both him and Judge Barrett. And in her past work, Judge Barrett has cast votes opposing rulings that struck down abortion-related restrictions (Reuters).

Although abortion may feel like a separate issue when analyzing the significant factors at play in this election, it’s not. The right to abortion affects everyone but disproportionately impacts communities of color. We need to remember that race is a critical component of reproductive justice. In fact, because the abortion movement has historically been a white-led movement, it’s easy to dismiss how many people of color are impacted by these decisions. Read more in a previous newsletter >

A study in 2008 found that abortion rates for Black women are almost 5x that for white women. The abortion rate among Hispanic women is 2x that for white women. A more accurate statistic for understanding the likelihood of abortion is the number of unintended pregnancies, which is also disproportionately higher for women of color (Guttmacher). Much of this is attributed to difficulties communities of color may face in accessing high-quality contraceptive services, one of many health disparities that affect our maternal health and reproductive rights. Many states with a high population of communities of color have greatly restricted abortion access. Explore a state-by-state map via Planned Parenthood >

Another urgent issue on hand is the Affordable Care Act. The Supreme Court is currently set to review the act on November 10th, just a week after the election. Democrats believe that Republicans are rushing the nomination through so that Judge Barrett would be on the court to rule against it (NPR).

Ending the Affordable Care Act would impact millions of people and have devastating consequences amid an economic downturn and global pandemic. The 133 million Americans with pre-existing health conditions may be turned away from other forms of care or be forced to pay high premiums. An additional 9 million could lose access because of the loss of federal subsidies that make accessing it affordable. Twelve million more adults could lose Medicaid coverage. You can read a more comprehensive breakdown in the NYTimes.

These initiatives worked to decrease coverage disparities between white communities and communities of color. The difference between Black and white adult uninsured rates dropped by 4.1 percentage points, while the difference between Hispanic and white uninsured rates fell 9.4 points since the ACA went into effect. Also, Black adults living in states that expanded Medicaid report coverage rates and access to care measures as “good as” or “better” than what white adults in non-expansion states report (The Commonwealth Fund). Although the ACA is far from perfect, it’s unclear what the future will look like if it’s disbanded, particularly a week after an election.

When asked about race directly during the confirmation hearing, Judge Barrett stated that she thinks “it is an entirely uncontroversial and obvious statement, given as we just talked about the George Floyd video, that racism persists in our country”. But she also said that she believes "making broader diagnoses about the problem" is up to lawmakers, not judges (NPR). But that doesn’t sit well with me. If you read our newsletter, you’ll note that major Supreme Court decisions influence systemic issues upholding racism and oppression in our society. We’ve outlined “Milliken v. Bradley” and its impact on school funding disparities. We discussed how the verdict of “Monroe v. Pape” and how the Supreme Court’s revision in 1982 defined qualified immunity. And we’ve analyzed how the ruling on “Shelby County v. Holder” makes it difficult for people to vote in this upcoming election.

This isn’t meant to downplay the historical significance of major laws written into effect that, too, have changed the course of racial equity. But the power of our judiciary system needs to be wielded alongside policy to ensure that laws are implemented and enforced.

Supporters of Judge Amy Coney Barrett will emphasize that Barrett cannot be racist because she has two adopted Black children from Haiti (Washington Post). But having Black children doesn’t mean that Judge Barrett will vote against racist policies. And, more broadly, having Black children – or being in proximity to any Black person – doesn’t mean that people still can’t have racist values, beliefs, or behaviors. Judge Barrett emphasized that she wept along with her children while watching the George Floyd video. But that does not seem to shift her views of the court’s responsibility court to take action (Politico). Remember that proximity to communities of color does not ensure their protection. Read more in our newsletter on playing the “friend card” and our follow-up Study Hall question on playing the “family card” >

Also, note how often people justify Judge Barrett’s empathy not by her voting history, but because she is a mother. Regardless of her children’s race, it’s far too common that women are valued by their contributions to family rather than their work ethic. As we continue to unpack the intersectionality of race, gender, and other identities, consider how voters’ depiction of Judge Barrett as a woman skews their perception of her work. In addition, consider how “being a good mother” is wielded as a defense for any racist rhetoric, which is often used to bypass harm inflicted by white women.

As the confirmation hearings continue to unfold, watch for more conversations on critical issues regarding racism, including immigration and the environment. But remember that racism, not race, causes the disparities in how these decisions impact communities of color. We deserve a judge that holds the judiciary system accountable for how racism will affect rulings on some of the most critical decisions in our future.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Supreme Court nominee Judge Amy Coney Barrett holds a generally conservative view, which can negatively impact communities of color
The most critical decisions Judge Amy Coney Barrett may make in her appointment need to be analyzed with the lens of how racism persists in the U.S.
The U.S. Justice system has greatly influenced racial equity throughout history – and will continue to do so
An individual's oroximity to Blackness – and other people of color – does not mean that person isn't racist

7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.

7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/14/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/14/20

Make the outdoors more equitable.

Last month I wrote an essay in Outdoors cataloging my negative encounters with white people who "didn't expect to see me”: a Black man hiking Mt. Katahdin, the highest peak in Maine and a favorite destination of extreme hikers. During my many visits to Katahdin, I have been screamed at, accused of following people, questioned about why I was on the mountain, and treated with such hostility that I have questioned whether I was doing something illegal. I was not.

In today's piece, I'd like us to reflect on the idea of reclamation. So much of this work isn't about granting new access and opportunity, but a reclaiming of rights given to us before oppressive systems even existed. The notion that some of us experience discrimination while exploring the great outdoors is appalling to me, and represents the core of this work – our need to reclaim the most fundamental parts of being human. I'm grateful to share this space with Juan so he can tell his story on reclaiming our right to blaze our own trail.

Thank you for all the support for this little newsletter that could! If you can, consider joining in by contribution to our website, PayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe monthly on Patreon. Thank you for all the support!

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Check out In Solidarity for resources on promoting diversity, equity, and inclusion in the outdoors
Contact major industry brands and associations like the Outdoor Industry Association and Merrell and ask them to support connecting Black communities to the outdoors
Organize and support trips that introduce Black schools and families to the outdoors
Write letters to your local representatives to demand greater funding and services in Black neighborhoods

GET EDUCATED

By Juan Michael Porter II (he/him)

My experiences are far from unique. There are numerous accounts from hikers of color about racist hostility that they have received from white people on the open trail (Outside, OPB, The Guardian).

Though I have grown accustomed to these reactions, I was unprepared for the large volume of emails that I received after writing that piece. Some of those letters were kind, though misguided: white people offered to take me hiking in a paternalistic show of solidarity and protectionism. Rather than shower me in virtue signaling (Vanity Fair), I wish that they would focus on eliminating racism so that all Black people could venture into the outdoors without fearing reprisal.

Mixed in with these solidarity statements were denouncements of disbelief that I had experienced racism at all. These screeds oscillated between denying my experience to threatening to “show me what real racism looks like.” It felt as if these white people lived in a different universe from me.

In one regard, they do: they have the privilege of hiking without fear that someone will assume that they are perpetrating harm. As a Black man, I am always greeted with suspicion, even while on an isolated mountain summit in a state that has fewer than 40,000 Black people living in it (Maine Census).

Despite the threats, I keep hiking because I refuse to be defined by fear or to limit the freedom that I feel by being outdoors. In fact, I returned to Katahdin last weekend to reclaim the space as a place of joy for me. Pursuing pleasure is my version of radical activism, especially in a time when so many Black lives are under threat from COVID-19, police brutality, and governmental neglect (Center for Disease Control and Prevention, NYTimes).

I speak out against these issues, as so many other Black people do, because if we stop, the white community (which has the privilege of occupying the outdoors without suspicion) will keep promoting the lie that racism is dead while also blaming us for the threats that we receive for doing nothing more than sleeping in our own beds (Poynter).

I interviewed Shilletha Curtis, a hiker who is of the same mindset. She aims to be the first Black gay woman to complete hiking’s Triple Crown (the Appalachian, Pacific Crest, and Continental Divide trails). Though Curtis has experienced horrible harassment since she started hiking in March—most notably in a Facebook group for hikers after she expressed concern for her safety as a Black woman hiking in the South—she refuses to apologize for “speaking her truth.”

After Curtis was kicked out of the Appalachian Trail Facebook group for discussing race, rather than stay angry, she says, “I took all of that anger and passion and I threw it into words. I put it into something educational; that isn't harmful." Curtis responds to comments such as “there's no racism on the trail” or “the trees don't know any color” by pointing out, “but humans do.”

Whenever I encounter racism, I recall the words of Paul Laurence Dunbar and decide that I will not "wear the mask that grins and lies" (Poetry Foundation). Instead, I work on decolonizing the outdoors and promoting accessibility to Black people. America’s natural splendor is our inheritance, left to us by kidnapped Africans who were forced to work on stolen lands; who fled bondage through valleys and across rivers as they pursued their natural rights as freed people (History, BBC News, Smithsonian Mag, USA Today).

Denying Black people access to outdoor leisure has a long history in the United States. Consider Madison Grant, who helped engineer the national parks system and promoted the pseudo-science behind eugenics. He had no problem with Black people as long as they remained “willing followers who ask only to obey and to further the ideals and wishes of the master (white) race” (Mother Jones, New Yorker). Grant was intent on preserving the parks to the exclusion of Black people. His racist attitudes blossom throughout white-dominated outdoor spaces even today.

Non-Hispanic white people make up only 63% of the U.S. population, but they account for 88% to 95% of all visitors to its public lands (Resource Magazine). Many white people blanch when I point to these facts as signs of pervasive racism and exclusion. Ultimately, I don’t care about what they think. I care about introducing Black people to the stress relieving and lifesaving experience that comes from spending time in nature (TIME, Science Daily). And if that means snatching a few edges, so be it.

You can join me in reclaiming the outdoors as a safe space for Black people by organizing as many people as you can to build a coalition of support that fearlessly and relentlessly advocates for Black communities. Black people deserve their time in the outdoors as much as anyone else does.

Like Shilletha Curtis, I fulfill this mission by serving as a role model for Black people who do not realize that the outdoors is for them, even if that just means visiting a local park. It may be a small step over the mountain of racism, but through grassroots and political initiatives, together we are all building a coalition to reclaim our birthright. Instead of “40 acres and a mule”, we Black people deserve access to every golden valley, from sea to shining sea.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Black people face hostility and racism in the outdoor community and at recreation centers.
Non-Hispanic white people make up only 63% of the population in this country, but they account for 88% to 95% of all visitors to public lands across the U.S. (Resource Magazine)
Confronting racism is important, but arguing with racists is less effective than advocating for Black communities fearlessly and relentlessly.

6/18/2020 | Take down Confederate symbols.

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

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/13/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/13/20

Support Chinatown during COVID-19.

Happy Tuesday,

We're continuing our ongoing coverage of COVID-19 by analyzing the impact of anti-Asian racism on small businesses, mainly restaurants, in Chinatown. Jami shares stories and insights from the communities impacted and outlines how we can help.

Speaking of help, thank you all for helping our work grow. Thanks to you and Jami, we're bringing on an influx of new writers to offer fresh perspectives. If you haven't already, consider making a contribution. You can give on our website, PayPal, Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe monthly on Patreon.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Support your local Chinatown. If you’ve never been, do some research to find out the perfect place to order from. Don’t be constrained by what’s available on apps—to find the best food, you’re probably going to have to make a phone call.
Read the stories in Resy’s extensive “Welcome to Chinatown, USA” series. Each is a love letter to a food or restaurant in Chinatowns across the country.
Broaden your understanding of Chinese American history and culture beyond just food.

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)

Like many other Asian Americans, when I first heard about the novel coronavirus ravaging Wuhan, China, I was afraid. Our fear was not just of the potential reach of the disease, but of what being Asian American, particularly Chinese American, would mean in a country prone to xenophobia, racism, and hysteria. I remembered the white college friend who, upon greeting me, would say, “Eww, don’t touch me—you probably have bird flu.” For him, this was a recurring bit; for me, it was a bite.

His “joke” recalled all those old stereotypes associated with the Chinese in America—that we carry disease, that we are dirty—that the coronavirus brought again to the forefront. (I wrote at length about coronavirus, fear, contagion, and Asian America in another essay.)

“The outbreak has had a decidedly dehumanizing effect, reigniting old strains of racism and xenophobia that frame Chinese people as uncivilized, barbaric “others” who bring with them dangerous, contagious diseases and an appetite for dogs, cats, and other animals outside the norms of Occidental diets. These ideas [are] perennially the subtext behind how Chinese people are viewed by the Western gaze.”
-Jenny G. Zhang in Eater

In those early months, fear arrived in the United States long before the virus did. This fear was wielded as a weapon, as evidenced by all stories of Asian Americans being spat on, jumped, shouted at, as we wrote about in a previous newsletter. But beyond those individual stories, you can just look at what happened to Chinatowns across the country.

Before the first cases ever arrived in New York City, fear of the virus made Chinatown business drop 50-70% (NYTimes), a number that replicated in Chinatowns across the United States (Eater) and in other Western nations. And it wasn’t just Chinatown—other restaurants owned and operated by Asian Americans started declining as early as December or January (KQED). The timing was especially poor: this happened around the Lunar New Year when Chinese restaurants pull in most of their business.

“At New Year’s, we had our 121st Golden Dragon Parade celebration, and only like 10 percent of the people showed up. The virus didn’t have anything to do with Chinatown, but it being associated as an Asian thing by the president, people just got that phobia about it.”
-Glenn SooHoo, owner of a small business in Los Angeles’s Chinatown (National Geographic)

“It was a fall-off-the-cliff kind of decline,” the owner of Hang Ah Tea Room in San Francisco told NPR’s Bay Area affiliate KQED. Several restaurants have closed permanently; others are unsure how long they can survive. The loss of some of these restaurants would mean losing pieces of our history and culture. Hang Ah Tea Room is the country’s oldest dim sum house, and one hundred years after its opening, the owner had to lay off over half his staff, most of them new immigrants (KQED).

But Chinatowns have faced very similar xenophobia before. During the 19th century, their residents were blamed for smallpox outbreaks. “The city health officer ordered the fumigation of every house in Chinatown,” writes Melissa Hung (San Francisco Chronicle). “Yet the epidemic raged on. Unable to account for the epidemic’s severity, he doubled down on his belief that “treacherous Chinamen” had caused it.”

The first Chinatown developed in San Francisco during the influx of Chinese immigrants during the Gold Rush in the 1800s. “These men were bachelors who needed sleeping quarters, clean clothes, and hot meals after long days of grueling labor; this [led] to a proliferation of housing, laundry services, and restaurants in burgeoning, Chinese-centric neighborhoods,” writes Rachel Ng (National Geographic). But, she adds, they also grew out of necessity, as they were not welcome in many other places. “After the abolition of slavery, Chinese immigrants provided a cheap source of labor, leading to resentment from the white working class.”

After the Gold Rush, Chinese immigrants found all kinds of work, most famously on the railroads. (Learn more about their work on the transcontinental railroad through the Smithsonian’s online exhibit Forgotten Workers). But anti-Chinese sentiment grew among white Americans, and in 1882, President Arthur signed the first Chinese Exclusion Act, barring almost all Chinese from entering the country (Chinese Historical Society of America). It was America’s first race-based immigration law.

Such stereotypes and discrimination have also shaped how many Chinese restaurants run and what kind of food they serve today. White Americans usually don’t view Chinese food as fancy or refined; they’re not used to paying a higher price point (NPR). Therefore, Chinese restaurants often use a high-volume, low-margin business model. Without a high volume of patrons, they are hit extra hard. Additionally, most restaurants in Chinatowns are small businesses, some owned and operated by generations of a single family. Few used apps like GrubHub before the coronavirus, so they were at a disadvantage when the pandemic struck (Fortune).

📰 Read about the model minority myth in our previous newsletter.

If all our Chinatowns make it through, it will be because of the resilience of the community. “Chinatown has a history of surviving adversities, with several indications the neighborhood will weather this one, too,” writes Melissa Hung (San Francisco Chronicle). Even during these difficult times, the community has banded together. Feed and Fuel Chinatown, an initiative from San Francisco’s Chinatown Community Development Center, delivered over 120,000 free meals to people living in public housing or SROs throughout COVID-19 (Chinatown CDC).

In August, Chicago’s Chinatown had “signs of a modest rebound,” said Kevin Pang (Resy). “Outdoor seating has been installed in Chinatown Square, and virtually everyone wears face masks.” When I went, it wasn’t nearly as busy as pre-pandemic, but neither was it a ghost town. There were signs of life. So when you choose to order food, remember to support the restaurants coronavirus hit first and hardest. Support our Chinatowns.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The coronavirus revived our country’s long history of anti-Chinese racism.
In Chinatowns across the country, restaurant business dropped 50-70%, even before the shutdowns (Eater).
The first Chinatown developed in San Francisco during the influx of Chinese immigrants during the Gold Rush in the 1800s.
In 1882, the president signed the Chinese Exclusion Act, the first race-based immigration law (Chinese Historical Society of America).

8/16/2020 | Think before eating out.

7/27/2020 | Support Asian Americans through COVID-19.

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