An Anti-racist Blog
A variety of topics. A variety of resources. A variety of voices.
Juneteenth: a newly recognized federal holiday
6.1.2021
If you haven't heard: Juneteenth is now recognized (as of two days ago) as a national holiday. That's a big, big win. But what is its history? Check out this comprehensive video today (and read this article) as you reflect about the ways you can recognize Juneteenth. (Hint hint: advocate for policy change, give money to crowd funding campaigns for Black folx, give a monthly recurring donation to an organization that works toward systemic equity.)
Critical Race Theory: The Guy Group
6.1.2021
If you've been paying attention to the news recently, you've undoubtedly heard the phrase "critical race theory." It's become a topic of intense debate - but what is it? Check out this video by Education Week in which the 40 year old concept and the controversy surrounding it is explained.
Let's Talk Vocab!: A Western Maine Community Zoom Conversation
5.24.2021
When we talk about inequity, it can sometimes feel like no two people in a room have the same understanding of the words we use. Maybe, in that figurative room, half of the people have never heard some of the language before. Maybe using words as simple as racism and anti-racism seems to instantly raise tensions. When we are not on the same page about language, it is difficult to have productive conversations - and it is difficult to mobilize and take action. It is therefore crucial to have a shared understanding of language about inequity as we learn, as we grow, as we advocate, and as we teach.
Please join the Western Maine Anti-Racism Education Advisory (AREA) Group on Zoom this Wednesday evening (5.26) as we talk vocab. The mission of this community presentation and conversation is to work toward that mutual understanding of language that is so important for positive growth and change.
Click the graphic or scan the QR code to register; once you're in, you can review our community guidelines, submit questions, and receive a Zoom link.
We are so looking forward to sharing this virtual space with you!
Black Girl in Maine
5.11.2021
In her words: "Black Girl in Maine, also known as BGIM for those who want to keep their typing-related finger stress down, is a Chicago-born, Chicago-raised chick by the name of Shay Stewart-Bouley who was forcibly relocated to Maine in 2002."
BGIM is an incredible resource if you're looking to learn in-depth about the Black experience in Maine (hint, you should look to learn in-depth about the Black experience in Maine!). You can find BGIM on Instagram, Facebook, and you can read her blog. AREA also encourage you, as always, to support her work (or as she says, "the musings") through a one-time tip or recurring donation.
Click on the image on the right to be redirected to a recent BGIM blog post on the urgent need for introspection about how we can support Black women. What changes will you need to make?
The History Of White People In America, Episode One: How America Invented Race
5.4.2021
“How skin became color, color became race, and race became power.”
Did you know that the concept of a white "race" has not always existed? That its birth, in fact, was less than 400 years ago? This video, presented by WORLD Channel and PBS and the first episode of a series, offers an enlightening insight into the history of "whiteness" and breaks the illusion that "American" is synonymous with "white." You can also check out an interview with producer/writer Jon Halperin and animator Ed Bell here.
David and Me, pt. 3
5.1.2021
This is the third installment of "David and Me" by Doug Barber. Please scroll down to read parts 1 and 2.
I had said in my previous post that I wondered what held me and Dave together as we got older and forces in the universe chaffed on our bonds. We started as fellow reptile connoisseurs and that was fine glue in elementary school, but no longer remotely relevant by Middle. There were racial undercurrents that we were both aware of now, but they weren’t strong enough to undermine what I now can see as our common History. When you come up together those shared times never completely disappear. Even as the gap widens, whether racial or otherwise, there still remains some semblance of a bridge. A few anecdotes:
I played basketball with Willie in elementary school and the first year of Middle. By played I mean mostly I grabbed rebounds, passed it off to him, and stayed out of the way. By 7th grade the market for 5’ 10” power forwards with little outside game had dried up. So instead of watching Willie from the floor, I did my spectating from the stands. This continued into high school where he was the star. His game was complete. He handled the ball, passed, rebounded - he’d taken over my job - and scored. At barely 6 feet, Willie dunked. I don’t mean breakaway-all-by-yourself dunks. I mean coming down the lane in traffic dunks, Alan Iverson stuff. Needless to say, Willie was at the top of the high school food chain. He was royalty and I was a serf.
Willie also worked at the local McDonald’s. His leadership abilities were just as apparent behind the grill as they were on the court. Set at a certain angle on top of this afro, he made those little box uniform hats look like designer material. Willie had presence, dribbling or otherwise and he also had memory. When I’d occasionally come in he’d always say hello, whether directly at the counter or holler from out back. Sometimes he’d do me the extreme kindness of stretching truth to the limit and telling a coworker that we used to play together. When he could, he commented that he hoped I was hungry and I’d find an extra burger or fries in my bag.
I went to school all the way up, from kindergarten to senior year, with Crystal. We were classmates, never more - acquaintances. When I picture her now I still see her performance at a middle school talent show. She and a couple of other girls did a dance routine to, I think, a Billy Preston song and THEY BROUGHT THE HOUSE DOWN. We were out of our seats cheering. Most of us, especially the white kids had NEVER, I mean NEVER, seen anything like it. The teachers even left us unleashed for a while because 1. they were just as impressed and 2. they realized they probably couldn’t have quieted us down after what we’d just experienced. Beyond that Crystal was a leader, formally in student council and, informally, in the halls. When Crystal talked, people listened.
She and I ended up going to the same large university, 10,000 students plus. A few times a year our paths would cross walking across campus. It would have been easy to keep moving with the crowd - as I said, we were never close - however she didn’t. At least I never saw it. We’d stop, exchange hellos, talk about our town and former classmates. It was never more than a minute or two, but I always felt good afterwards and I think she did too.
It was my second try at college and I was in my mid-twenties. My girlfriend at the time considered herself the “artiste” and the “auteur”. We were an interesting couple. Me, the redneck, and, her, a personification of the counterculture. She was opening an exhibit at some off campus gallery and she strongly suggested that I accompany her. Way out of my comfort zone, it was my inclination to run screaming in the opposite direction, but, as I said, it was strongly suggested that I attend. So I walked in the door of the place hating life until I saw Linda. Linda was the Angela Davis of my high, and I guess middle, school. She was beautiful, stylish, whip-smart and radical. Linda, I knew well. Any class we had in common, and there were many, turned into a verbal steel cage death match between the two of us. Debate as blood sport. I was not sure how this meeting would go, but it didn’t take long to find out, “Dougie, what are you doing here?,” she squealed and then wheeled around and hugged me. Those of you who know me know I’m not a hugger. This one felt right though. After I explained my unlikely appearance at this venue and she explained her completely predictable appearance, it was Old Home Days. We revisited our memorable battles and laughed and laughed and laughed. This went on for probably an hour. I know it was long enough and loud enough that we were both getting the stinkeye from our respective escorts.
During the long, cold drive back I had plenty of time to explain to my artsy friend that what she had seen was not romance, but, rather, history.
- Doug Barber
David and Me, pt. 2
3.13.2021
So, as I alluded to in my last post, middle school was different for me and Dave. But, no surprise I guess. Middle school is different for everybody.
The two of us had been in the same class in grades one through five. However, in grade 6, the last year of elementary, either chance or the powers that be had separated us. I suspect that it was the latter. Teachers figuring that we’d have to survive without each other the next year in middle school were trying break the dependence. Whether the idea was good or bad, it was accurate. Homerooms were alphabetical so my B put me half a school away from his S. Also, as any of you who have been preteens will probably attest to, a mutual love of reptiles doesn’t provide the same social glue in middle school as it does in your earlier years. Cliques, girls, and especially cliques of girls surpass even snakes. Dave was privy to this. It took me a while to adjust.
We still found each other though. More accurately, to his credit, Dave found me. Being the social creature that he was, he would get to school plenty early. The building was designed in some sort of quasi-circle, hexagon, octagon maybe, of rooms around a central courtyard. A hallway ran like an artery between the inner and outer rings of classrooms. This facilitated a pre-opening bell social promenade through the hall. Most everyone did as many laps as possible. Gawky boys and giggly girls swirling around like a blender full of hormones. Each lap Dave would check my room to see if my bus had arrived and scoop me up when I showed. To revise a prior sentence, I represented a gawky guy, but not Dave. He was smooth. He was one of the ones that caused the girls to giggle. So the two of us worked the halls until separated by the opening bell. Dave’s purpose was to network with the female population. Mine was to hang with Dave. In retrospect, I wonder how I was any kind of asset in gaining contact with the ladies. Perhaps I was some kind of strange arm candy. I did have a bland kind of Ken-doll look. Maybe, it was that Dave and I were just in synch. and that was worth any drag I might cause. I could always crack him up. Laughter was good medicine. Now I realize that the two of us had history and that was more than enough to counteract any odd couple vibe.
The forces of the universe were pulling us apart though. In middle school classes were tracked. We were in the same Math and Science group, but that was it, other than our morning romp. Most of the students in the top tier classes were what Dave and I called the pretty boys and girls. Neither of us fit neatly into this population. Not sure if it were race or class. I suspect both. However, it was easy to look around and notice that in a school that was a third Black overall, in these rooms the percentage was decidedly different. I can’t remember anything that was overtly racist. However, I always had the feeling that I could probably have weaseled my way into the club if I genuflected deeply enough, but that Dave would always be politely tolerated, yet never embraced. No big deal. I was satisfied with my station in the sphere and I far as I could tell so was Dave.
There was one bit of social pressure that I know did get to him though. He wouldn’t complain to me, but I could watch it at work. To put this in a historical perspective, these were Vietnam years. Martin Luther King Jr. had just been assassinated. Black power and Black Panthers were an everyday topic. The nation wasn't just divided into Blue and Red like today. It was Old and Young, Hawk and Dove, Black and White or some weird combo platter of all. There was a significant subset of the Black students who would give Dave flack. As far as I knew the term was’t used then, but nowadays they might say Dave wasn't “street” enough. Hanging around with lily white Opie Taylor me was not going to help matters. Now mind you, he never said any of this to me. Dave was as loyal as the day is long, but I wasn’t completely brain dead and I saw the pressure it sometimes put on him.
So all told, our obliviously colorblind elementary relationship had run into a murkier world. We still hung out. I’d sometimes walk home with him to his neighborhood for baseball or football or teenage boy stuff that will remain unrecorded. He’d come to mine to mostly go fishing and make fires in the woods. It wouldn’t happen as often as before though, and both of us could hear the static building in the background.
- Doug Barber
David and Me, pt. 1
2.2.21
I went to elementary school in Bloomfield, Connecticut. Bloomfield borders Hartford to the north, and the north end of Hartford in the 1960’s was poor and almost exclusively minority. Bloomfield was the escape hatch for families looking for a little more space, better schools, and a little more safety. For whatever reasons, and I’m sure there were a few, Blacks were not moving to the other Hartford suburbs. Bloomfield was their preferred choice. Or more than likely, knowing what I know now about redlining, their only choice.
I bring this up to give you some context. However, none of it was even remotely known to David and me at the time. David was Black and I was white, still am. And while I can’t speak for him, I can say for me the fact that we both had a major lust for reptiles, and if pressed amphibians, was 99% of what mattered. Anything else, to us, had little relevance. I suspect the fixation started with dinosaurs, but if it did, it quickly evolved towards more easily attainable critters like snakes and turtles.
David wasn’t my first friend - we met in first grade - but he was certainly my best friend. Every day of the school year, we were doing something together. Summers I spent with relatives in Maine, but we’d write. Me in barely decipherable big block letters about crabs, and snails and sea urchins. He, in the tight neat script of the artist he was, about the aforementioned snakes and turtles. Occasionally we were allowed the extreme privilege, and those of you as gray as me will understand the gravity of this, of a long distance phone call.
Come September we were back at it though. The Gods miraculously always put us in the same class. And whatever class that was had the best terrarium in the school. Or perhaps, if we had some species that might consume each other, terrariums. The teachers in those days had the freedom, and insight, to let us go after it. Just beyond our school playing fields was a small shallow brook which was technically off limits. Our teachers would be shocked, yes shocked, at the amount and variety of wildlife David and I were able to discover and capture while confined to the worn athletic fields and blacktop. Once, with the help of of a broomstick and our janitor Mr. Smiley - that’s right, Mr. Smiley - we were allowed to parade a 30 lb. snapping turtle around the school. There is perhaps nothing that gives two turtle toting boys more street-cred than that.
Our school was located on the Hartford side of town in a racially mixed neighborhood of small ranches alongside double and triple decker apartment buildings. That was David’s turf. I was bused from the far side of town which was formerly rural, but rapidly becoming suburbia. In my neighborhood, there were plenty of woods, fields, swamps, but unless David came to visit no Blacks. It was a luxury, but we did visit as much as we could convince our one car families to play pick-up-the-kid. Going to David’s, I got to walk home from school with him. Here I first experienced the utter joy of walking away from school with a pack of friends on a perfect fall day. I generally did fine in David’s neighborhood because there was always a football or baseball game and I was a pretty good athlete. In fact, even though one of our favorite pastimes was cutting on each other (and I was not known for my sensitivity), I never brought up that, in choosing teams, I’d get picked before him.
For David, coming to my space was totally different yet just as good. One, he got to ride the bus; something he only got to do on our once- or twice yearly field trips. Two, there was plenty of hunting ground. After a quick snack, it was off to the woods where we stayed until whenever his appointed time of departure was. I had more habitat than David did in his neighborhood, but less humans. However, David got along just fine with whomever we happened to bump into or run with. He’d tell me that because his last name was Shaw, he had the Irish gift of gab. Later on, when girls entered the picture, he’d like brag about his rap. Whatever he’d want to call it, it was there. If he were a salesman and you were looking to hold onto whatever was in you wallet, you’d be in peril.
Elementary school went on basically like this. Snakes and turtles transitioned to fishing, then girls. Whatever the attraction, we went together. Middle school is a time of change and it certainly was for us. I’ll leave that to the next post.
- Doug Barber
Racism is a Public Health Crisis: April 21-23
5 Events Hosted by Stand Against Racism and YWCA Central Maine
4.19.2021
We were just passed this information about an incredible series of events hosted by Stand Against Racism and the YWCA of Central Maine. Check it out!
In their words:
Structural racism plays a large role in determining the conditions in which people are born, grow, work, live, and age. These factors affect people’s access to quality housing, education, food, transportation, political power, and other social determinants of health. Understanding and addressing systemic racism from this public health perspective is crucial to eliminating racial and ethnic inequities, and to improving opportunity and well-being across communities.
Our collective efforts can root out injustice, transform institutions, and create a world that sees women, girls, and people of color the way we do: Equal. Powerful. Unstoppable.
See the flyer they've provided below for more information (click on it to register!). Please share with anyone you think may be interested (or anyone who may know someone who may be interested!).
Black Student Caucus
Hosted by Maine Youth Action Network (MYAN)
3.30.2021
You may remember our post about MYAN's Uprooting Inequities Workshop (way back on January 21st - scroll down if you haven't seen it/need a refresher on what they're all about!). We're so excited to share with you MYAN's 2021 Black Student Caucus, taking place every Saturday in April!
In their words: MYAN is hosting a multi-day virtual caucus for Black Student Unions and Black students from across Maine. Each Saturday of the month (four events in total), Black youth in Maine will have the opportunity to collaborate and learn from one another and four incredible keynote speakers.
See the flyer they've provided below for more information (click on it to register!). Please share with anyone you think may be interested (or anyone who may know someone who may be interested!).
Asian American Hate, pt. 5: Now What?
By: Chandarith Moeun
3.26.2021
Chandarith Moeun, a Cambodian American who grew up in Mexico, Maine and helped found the Mountain Valley High School Civil Rights Team, is an illustrator and voice actor. We've divided his narrative into five sections and we'll be sharing them daily for the next five days. We hope you'll join us as we listen to Chandarith speak his truth. And follow him on Twitter @chadouken and IG @chad0uken!
Throughout this series, Chandarith has embedded links within the narrative to provide readers with more information. Please use them!
Please note this piece contains triggering content, including racial violence and language.
Scroll down to read pts. 1 - 4.
Illustration by Chandarith Moeun
Honestly, I thought a lot about what I think the best course of action is. Do we have patrols and escort our elderly to and from places? Should we organize coalitions between not just Black and Asian, but ALL communities and show intersectional solidarity? Do we donate to organizations like StopAAPIHate? Can we call out toxic members of our own races and have difficult conversations?
This is gonna sound really obvious, but yeah. Totally all of that.
This effort needs to be from everyone. We all have to show each other that we have each other’s backs and that our allyship isn’t merely performative. There’s so much focus on who’s done what for whom, and whether or not it’s reciprocal. That’s not helpful. Black and Asian solidarity efforts have been going on for some time, and while it’s not always perfect, having to constantly be questioned and our advocacy invalidated is incredibly frustrating.
That said, we need to normalize reporting of these incidents, and call out bad behavior. This includes labelling these for what they are: Hate crimes. Hate crimes that have specifically targeted our most vulnerable. We need to protect our elderly, we need to look out for women of color, and we need to do this together.
Remember
I read all these headlines, day after day, and my heart feels heavy. I begin to process all the emotions I feel. Anger, fear, sadness, and frustration. I try not to internalize it. I feel drained and exhausted. Even just writing about these things brings up so much pain and trauma.
I remember how I felt all those years ago when my dad was attacked, and the anger I held on to. Anger, that I know to be so seductive because of how justified it felt. I hear my mom’s voice, telling me not to give in to hate.
I think about all the victims and families affected by the attacks, and the pain they must feel. I see them as a reflection of myself, and my own family. The ones that aren’t with us anymore. Lives taken because of hatred; they had dreams, passions, and stories. I see their names.
Vicha Ratanapakdee.
Ee Lee.
Pak Ho.
Hyun Jung Grant.
Delaina Ashley Yaun Gonzalez.
Paul Andre Michels.
Xiaojie Tan.
Daoyou Feng.
Soon Chung Park.
Yong Ae Yue.
Sun Cha Kim.
I know there’s more names yet to be added to this list, and I’m afraid of how much longer it’ll be before it stops. If it does stop.
I can only hope.
Asian American Hate, pt. 4: In the Past
By: Chandarith Moeun
3.25.2021
Chandarith Moeun, a Cambodian American who grew up in Mexico, Maine and helped found the Mountain Valley High School Civil Rights Team, is an illustrator and voice actor. We've divided his narrative into five sections and we'll be sharing them daily for the next five days. We hope you'll join us as we listen to Chandarith speak his truth. And follow him on Twitter @chadouken and IG @chad0uken!
Throughout this series, Chandarith has embedded links within the narrative to provide readers with more information. Please use them!
Please note this piece contains triggering content, including racial violence and language.
Scroll down to read pts. 1 - 3.
Illustration by Chandarith Moeun
It’s complicated. Asian Americans have long been used as a racially divisive tool in America. We were labeled 'Model Minorities' to paint other minorities as problematic, and a lot of Asian immigrants leaned into it because it framed Asian Americans as hard-working and high achieving. It made it easy to show off Asian excellence, but ignored problems like Asian poverty. The label built harmful stereotypes into the minds of the American public, and minimized the inequality of Asian Americans.
This idea has a past of using Asian people and discarding them when no longer needed. Here’s some really watered down history: to build America’s railways, in the 1800’s, the Central Pacific Railroad hired scores of Chinese laborers that came to the US amid California’s gold rush. They were hired, mostly in part because white workers didn’t want to sign up, and were then forced to do the more dangerous and grueling work, for less pay. Resentment, violence, and racism against the Chinese brewed, so naturally, the US government passed the Chinese Exclusion Act. This banned all Chinese laborers from entering the country, despite all the work they had done for America’s infrastructure.
Then, in the 1940’s, when fears that the US/Chinese alliance against Japan was in danger because of their earlier Exclusion act, the American government opted to repeal it. This took some work, as they had to allay fears of Yellow Peril, so they strategically put out materials to portray Chinese people as “law-abiding, peace-loving, courteous people living quietly among us.”
Around that same time, Japanese Americans were unjustly put in internment camps. This was supposedly due to fears of espionage, but it was really so white farmers could seize their land. Japanese American soldiers fought some of the most dangerous battles for the US, while their families lost everything.
Time and time again, Asian people are lifted up or tasked with service for this country, and then routinely cast aside when we’re politically convenient scapegoats. It’s almost like a brutal reminder for Asian people that like to align themselves as white-adjacent.
As a Southeast Asian man, I’ve been on the other end of the model minority myth. I’ve experienced colorism from East Asian people, who looked down on me because of the color of my skin. When I heard of Black people facing discrimation from Asians, I instantly understood it on a personal level.
From what I can tell, many Asian immigrants have had some difficulty fully understanding the context of these race relations. They didn’t grow up learning about the racial strife in this country, and as such, it’s led to bad outcomes.
In the events preceding the 1992 LA riots, there was a lot of bad blood between the Black and Asian communities. Korean immigrants opened up shop in black neighborhoods during a time of economic hardship. While they were willing to accept the community’s money, the Black community felt that Koreans weren’t willing or didn’t think to invest that money back into the neighborhood. This caused resentment, and as such, Asian shops were seen as easy and frequent targets for robberies. Many Asian people grew to fear and hate Black people, and the tensions escalated. This eventually led to the murder of Latasha Harlins, a 15 year old black girl.
During the LA riots, both Asian and Black people were abandoned by the LAPD. $1 Billion worth of property damage. 7,000 fires. 53 people dead. It took time, Kobe Bryant, and real community outreach from both sides for things to get better. Communication and advocacy. Not guns. Not assaults. Not insults. Unity.
When I read about African American history, it really hit home just how much of our struggles overlapped. We both suffer from systemic inequality. We both struggle for representation. We both have incredibly deep, beautiful cultures, and we both have felt that this country that we love and sacrifice so much for, does not love us back in return.
to be continued...
Asian American Hate, pt. 3: Another Problem
By: Chandarith Moeun
3.25.2021
Chandarith Moeun, a Cambodian American who grew up in Mexico, Maine and helped found the Mountain Valley High School Civil Rights Team, is an illustrator and voice actor. We've divided his narrative into five sections and we'll be sharing them daily for the next five days. We hope you'll join us as we listen to Chandarith speak his truth. And follow him on Twitter @chadouken and IG @chad0uken!
Throughout this series, Chandarith has embedded links within the narrative to provide readers with more information. Please use them!
Please note this piece contains triggering content, including racial violence and language.
Scroll down to read pts. 1 and 2.
Illustration by Chandarith Moeun
A comment left on an article. There’s dozens like this.
In the sea of these discussions, I kept seeing a pattern of anti-Black comments that kept cropping up. It didn't surprise me, but it is a frequent problem in the Asian community. Whenever a video or a picture of an assailant comes out and they happen to be Black, hateful comments come out of the woodwork. There's comments leveled at BLM, or resentment about Asian attacks not being covered in the media as heavily as other POC. They usually try to defend their thinly (and sometimes not so thinly) veiled prejudice with "What would you do if it was YOUR family?"
These comments imply that there’s a narrative by the media that Black people won’t be held responsible if they commit a crime because of some imaginary special privilege.
These “discussions” usually don’t go anywhere productive. It usually just becomes Internet tough guy bravado. People make comments about bringing back ‘Rooftop Koreans,’ and say stuff like, ‘I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.” If you tell people that they should not espouse hateful views of black people, they call you a race traitor, or a ‘boba liberal.’
Caring about black causes doesn’t make us Anti-Asian, and we shouldn’t be comparing ourselves like this; it hurts both Asian and Black people and our causes.
I hate it. I absolutely hate it. It makes trying to talk about any meaningful solutions or making in-roads with other communities incredibly difficult because of how laser focused they are with their bigotry. When BIPOC activists call out these Asian people for their prejudice, they retaliate back, which leads to a back and forth between both sides. It becomes a frustrating game of "They-don't-care-about-us. This-is-now-an-Oppression-Olympics."
It’s so dumb. Like, I can’t dismiss all of the criticisms that people share because it’s more nuanced than that. There’s REAL pain and anxiety that Asian people feel over these attacks, and they do have legitimate grievances that haven’t been getting enough media coverage. I don’t want to diminish that. Anti-Asian hate is a big problem. It just becomes difficult to make allies when people are being prejudiced. Why would anyone care about our problems, when we haven’t done enough to understand theirs?
to be continued...
Asian American Hate, pt. 2: Time and Time Again
By: Chandarith Moeun
3.24.2021
Chandarith Moeun, a Cambodian American who grew up in Mexico, Maine and helped found the Mountain Valley High School Civil Rights Team, is an illustrator and voice actor. We've divided his narrative into five sections and we'll be sharing them daily for the next five days. We hope you'll join us as we listen to Chandarith speak his truth. And follow him on Twitter @chadouken and IG @chad0uken!
Throughout this series, Chandarith has embedded links within the narrative to provide readers with more information. Please use them!
Please note this piece contains triggering content, including racial violence and language.
Scroll down to read pt. 1.
Illustration by Chandarith Moeun
Over the years, I grappled with what my mother had talked about. Was she right? Was she being complacent and enabling the very harm that was being perpetrated against us? Or was she simply just worried that her son would get hurt? The thoughts would come and go, but it didn't do much to stop how I was feeling. Anger was something I struggled with far past my teens and into my adulthood. Anger at the injustice, the hate, and the violence against people of color. It felt like something that burned inside me as I tried to live my life, reigniting itself every time I heard the news.
Which brings me to today.
Hate crimes against Asian Americans are on the rise. It was something that I had noticed slowly rising the past few years, but it really ramped up within the last year. Tensions and fears about Covid-19 were stoked by the xenophobic rhetoric of rightwing politicians. People with already existing prejudices against Asian people used the virus as a justification to attack the elderly or lash out against anyone they perceived to be 'Asian.'
As 2020 rolled on by, I heard numerous stories of attacks. I feared for my friends and loved ones, while also taking precautions for my own safety. I sat there with a mix of apprehension and frustration. I mean, life is already difficult enough as it is with the pandemic, but now we have to add the fear of getting assaulted?
Headline after headline, video after video. I kept seeing the attacks happen. Day after day.
And again.
And again.
And- oh my God, it's never-ending.
Even when it's not an actual physical assault, people are still finding ways to express their bigotry.
It's hard not to feel overwhelmed by all the attacks. The pain of it all has been a heavy weight. Asian folks from all walks of life are sad, angry, and scared. It's completely reasonable to be all these things. According to StopAAPIHate, there were over 3700 reported incidents of racism and discrimination since last March. That’s only the reported incidents. There’s probably more, and still to come.
Police are saying that they’re not finding evidence of racial discrimation because...y’know, the attackers say so. I’m sorry, but I don’t think racists get to determine what is and isn’t racist.
The attacks have spurred conversations amongst Asian communities about how to respond to the violence- whether it's calling for a stronger police presence or the need for carrying guns. There's rewards for information about attackers. People are angry, and many are desperate for a show of force, in the hopes that their would-be attackers would think twice.
I can't fault them for thinking this way. I don't agree with it, but I understand the line of thinking. How are we going to protect ourselves? Are guns ever a good idea to combat violence, or do they lead to even more violence? If the police are already infamous for brutality and over-policing communities of color, would this just invite MORE discord? What's the solution here?
to be continued...
Asian American Hate, pt. 1
By: Chandarith Moeun
3.23.2021
Chandarith Moeun, a Cambodian American who grew up in Mexico, Maine and helped found the Mountain Valley High School Civil Rights Team, is an illustrator and voice actor. We've divided his narrative into five sections and we'll be sharing them daily for the next five days. We hope you'll join us as we listen to Chandarith speak his truth. And follow him on Twitter @chadouken and IG @chad0uken!
Throughout this series, Chandarith has embedded links within the narrative to provide readers with more information. Please use them!
Please note this piece contains triggering content, including racial violence and language.
Illustration by Chandarith Moeun
One of my most vivid memories growing up was from when I was a freshman in high school. I had just gotten home, and my mother told me that something had happened to my father. I could see the pained look on her face as she struggled to tell me.
"He was outside, and… he was attacked. Some of the neighbor's kids threw stones at him. Don't worry, he's okay."
At first, I was stunned. I almost didn’t believe it. But then, slowly, I could feel the fury boiling in my chest as it rose to my face.
"Why? Why would they do that?"
"..."
She didn't have to say anything.
We both knew why. We were one of the only Asian families living in town, surrounded by white people. I'd be lying through my teeth if I said that I had never encountered racism before that. I had grown up somewhat used to the casual racism that many of us minorities suffer; the microaggressions that people gaslight you about, or love to tell you to just shrug off.
In a sense, they're kind of right. As a minority, you can't really afford to expend energy on every single racist interaction that's inflicted upon you. I had to pick my battles. Some I ignored, others I grew numb to. The snickers and contempt that I saw on some of the faces of people I grew up with became like background static.
'It's...whatever,' I thought.
Until it wasn't.
The horror of what those kids had done to my dad was like a bolt through my chest. The world around me seemed to cloud over. Nothing else mattered. I could only see red. My anger only allowed for one question:
WHO DID IT?
I had to make sure that they knew that they had made the biggest mistake of their lives. It was going to be the last time they hurt anyone. I quickly went to put on my shoes. It was GO time.
"Where are you going?" My mom asked, voice full of concern. I ignored her as I started opening the door.
"WHERE are you going?"
My mom's tone froze me in my tracks.
"I'm going to find who did it," I replied.
"You don't even know who did it. If you went out to hit someone and it wasn't the right person, what would you do? What would happen to you?"
"I don't know, I would make sure it was them." I said defiantly.
"Go sit down."
I flinched. I couldn't believe her. How could I just let this go? Why shouldn't I go beat the crap out of some snot nosed racist kids? If nobody teaches them not to mess with us, what's going to stop them later? I mean, the AUDACITY of these kids. Do you know how safe and comfortable you have to be with your racism to think that it's okay to hurt someone? Would they like it if I threw rocks at THEIR parents?
The thoughts raced through my mind, as my mom watched me, eyes gentle and caring. Her voice was calm, but strong.
"I understand you're angry. I am too. But just because you're angry doesn't mean you can go out and hurt people. Your father is okay, and he made sure to have a word with the parents of the children that hurt him. They'll handle it. YOU are not going to hurt anyone."
It felt like a slap. I could feel the anger and frustration choking me as I processed what she said. Their PARENTS? You mean the people that probably taught them how to be such hateful little monsters? They're just going to keep walking all over us because we let them know it was okay!
My mother could tell she wasn't getting through. I wanted to yell, and it was written all over my face. In a firm voice, she told me about the nature of hatred, and how it feeds into itself. It becomes a self destructive cycle, leaving nothing but pain and regret in its wake. One act of hatred in a moment of anger could ruin your life, forever. A life of good deeds would be undone by cruelty and foolishness. Anger shouldn't be the guiding emotion in how we make decisions.
She knows a lot about anger. About injustice. She was a survivor of the Khmer Rouge decades before in Cambodia. Men, women, and children were slaughtered in a genocide. Many of the people responsible escaped justice. Millions died, and their killers got to live relatively peaceful lives next to the people they had abused. It wasn't fair, and of course they deserved to be brought to justice, but if she spent the rest of her life focusing on the hatred she had for those people, what kind of life would she have?
As she spoke, I felt the thoughts of vengeance leave. I was still upset, but the logic got through. At the time, I was so consumed by the anger, hearing her words felt like poison. Like weakness. A refusal to recognize a clear threat.
Ultimately, I didn't go seeking retribution. I honestly didn't know which kids had done it, and after talking with my dad, he seemed grateful that I hadn't done anything rash. That had made me feel a little bit better, but it still didn't sit right. I remember seething in the anger long after it was over.
to be continued...
@theunsungheroines
3.16.2021
This is one of our favorite instagram accounts. Here's what they're all about: "It’s paramount that we honor women who paved the way for us , b/c without visibility our history becomes lost." Give them a follow on instagram this Women's History Month!
David and Me, pt. 2
3.13.2021
So, as I alluded to in my last post, middle school was different for me and Dave. But, no surprise I guess. Middle school is different for everybody.
The two of us had been in the same class in grades one through five. However, in grade 6, the last year of elementary, either chance or the powers that be had separated us. I suspect that it was the latter. Teachers figuring that we’d have to survive without each other the next year in middle school were trying break the dependence. Whether the idea was good or bad, it was accurate. Homerooms were alphabetical so my B put me half a school away from his S. Also, as any of you who have been preteens will probably attest to, a mutual love of reptiles doesn’t provide the same social glue in middle school as it does in your earlier years. Cliques, girls, and especially cliques of girls surpass even snakes. Dave was privy to this. It took me a while to adjust.
We still found each other though. More accurately, to his credit, Dave found me. Being the social creature that he was, he would get to school plenty early. The building was designed in some sort of quasi-circle, hexagon, octagon maybe, of rooms around a central courtyard. A hallway ran like an artery between the inner and outer rings of classrooms. This facilitated a pre-opening bell social promenade through the hall. Most everyone did as many laps as possible. Gawky boys and giggly girls swirling around like a blender full of hormones. Each lap Dave would check my room to see if my bus had arrived and scoop me up when I showed. To revise a prior sentence, I represented a gawky guy, but not Dave. He was smooth. He was one of the ones that caused the girls to giggle. So the two of us worked the halls until separated by the opening bell. Dave’s purpose was to network with the female population. Mine was to hang with Dave. In retrospect, I wonder how I was any kind of asset in gaining contact with the ladies. Perhaps I was some kind of strange arm candy. I did have a bland kind of Ken-doll look. Maybe, it was that Dave and I were just in synch. and that was worth any drag I might cause. I could always crack him up. Laughter was good medicine. Now I realize that the two of us had history and that was more than enough to counteract any odd couple vibe.
The forces of the universe were pulling us apart though. In middle school classes were tracked. We were in the same Math and Science group, but that was it, other than our morning romp. Most of the students in the top tier classes were what Dave and I called the pretty boys and girls. Neither of us fit neatly into this population. Not sure if it were race or class. I suspect both. However, it was easy to look around and notice that in a school that was a third Black overall, in these rooms the percentage was decidedly different. I can’t remember anything that was overtly racist. However, I always had the feeling that I could probably have weaseled my way into the club if I genuflected deeply enough, but that Dave would always be politely tolerated, yet never embraced. No big deal. I was satisfied with my station in the sphere and I far as I could tell so was Dave.
There was one bit of social pressure that I know did get to him though. He wouldn’t complain to me, but I could watch it at work. To put this in a historical perspective, these were Vietnam years. Martin Luther King Jr. had just been assassinated. Black power and Black Panthers were an everyday topic. The nation wasn't just divided into Blue and Red like today. It was Old and Young, Hawk and Dove, Black and White or some weird combo platter of all. There was a significant subset of the Black students who would give Dave flack. As far as I knew the term was’t used then, but nowadays they might say Dave wasn't “street” enough. Hanging around with lily white Opie Taylor me was not going to help matters. Now mind you, he never said any of this to me. Dave was as loyal as the day is long, but I wasn’t completely brain dead and I saw the pressure it sometimes put on him.
So all told, our obliviously colorblind elementary relationship had run into a murkier world. We still hung out. I’d sometimes walk home with him to his neighborhood for baseball or football or teenage boy stuff that will remain unrecorded. He’d come to mine to mostly go fishing and make fires in the woods. It wouldn’t happen as often as before though, and both of us could hear the static building in the background.
- Doug Barber
David and Me, pt. 1
2.2.21
I went to elementary school in Bloomfield, Connecticut. Bloomfield borders Hartford to the north, and the north end of Hartford in the 1960’s was poor and almost exclusively minority. Bloomfield was the escape hatch for families looking for a little more space, better schools, and a little more safety. For whatever reasons, and I’m sure there were a few, Blacks were not moving to the other Hartford suburbs. Bloomfield was their preferred choice. Or more than likely, knowing what I know now about redlining, their only choice.
I bring this up to give you some context. However, none of it was even remotely known to David and me at the time. David was Black and I was white, still am. And while I can’t speak for him, I can say for me the fact that we both had a major lust for reptiles, and if pressed amphibians, was 99% of what mattered. Anything else, to us, had little relevance. I suspect the fixation started with dinosaurs, but if it did, it quickly evolved towards more easily attainable critters like snakes and turtles.
David wasn’t my first friend - we met in first grade - but he was certainly my best friend. Every day of the school year, we were doing something together. Summers I spent with relatives in Maine, but we’d write. Me in barely decipherable big block letters about crabs, and snails and sea urchins. He, in the tight neat script of the artist he was, about the aforementioned snakes and turtles. Occasionally we were allowed the extreme privilege, and those of you as gray as me will understand the gravity of this, of a long distance phone call.
Come September we were back at it though. The Gods miraculously always put us in the same class. And whatever class that was had the best terrarium in the school. Or perhaps, if we had some species that might consume each other, terrariums. The teachers in those days had the freedom, and insight, to let us go after it. Just beyond our school playing fields was a small shallow brook which was technically off limits. Our teachers would be shocked, yes shocked, at the amount and variety of wildlife David and I were able to discover and capture while confined to the worn athletic fields and blacktop. Once, with the help of of a broomstick and our janitor Mr. Smiley - that’s right, Mr. Smiley - we were allowed to parade a 30 lb. snapping turtle around the school. There is perhaps nothing that gives two turtle toting boys more street-cred than that.
Our school was located on the Hartford side of town in a racially mixed neighborhood of small ranches alongside double and triple decker apartment buildings. That was David’s turf. I was bused from the far side of town which was formerly rural, but rapidly becoming suburbia. In my neighborhood, there were plenty of woods, fields, swamps, but unless David came to visit no Blacks. It was a luxury, but we did visit as much as we could convince our one car families to play pick-up-the-kid. Going to David’s, I got to walk home from school with him. Here I first experienced the utter joy of walking away from school with a pack of friends on a perfect fall day. I generally did fine in David’s neighborhood because there was always a football or baseball game and I was a pretty good athlete. In fact, even though one of our favorite pastimes was cutting on each other (and I was not known for my sensitivity), I never brought up that, in choosing teams, I’d get picked before him.
For David, coming to my space was totally different yet just as good. One, he got to ride the bus; something he only got to do on our once- or twice yearly field trips. Two, there was plenty of hunting ground. After a quick snack, it was off to the woods where we stayed until whenever his appointed time of departure was. I had more habitat than David did in his neighborhood, but less humans. However, David got along just fine with whomever we happened to bump into or run with. He’d tell me that because his last name was Shaw, he had the Irish gift of gab. Later on, when girls entered the picture, he’d like brag about his rap. Whatever he’d want to call it, it was there. If he were a salesman and you were looking to hold onto whatever was in you wallet, you’d be in peril.
Elementary school went on basically like this. Snakes and turtles transitioned to fishing, then girls. Whatever the attraction, we went together. Middle school is a time of change and it certainly was for us. I’ll leave that to the next post.
- Doug Barber
Beyond Black History Month
2.28.21
Today is the last day of the "shortest, coldest month of the year." So what does that mean for your self-education and work around Black history? Black culture? Black accomplishment? Black joy? To be blunt - it shouldn't affect your progress at all.
Black History Month was established by Carter G. Woodson. Woodson, born in 1875 and the son of former slaves, was himself a former coal miner and educator. Woodson was the second Black man to earn a doctorate degree at Harvard. He later founded what is known today as the Association for the Study of African American Life and History. Woodson established what today has become known as Black History Month in 1926 after recognizing a lack of information on the accomplishments of Black people in American history. February was chosen because it is the month oof the birthdays of abolitionist author Frederick Douglass and President Abraham Lincoln.
We at AREA recognize the importance of this month for education. We also recognize that the vast history of Black suffering, joy, contribution and accomplishment cannot be condensed into a single month. And so as we move into March (Women's History Month!), we challenge you (and ourselves) to continue examining your own biases, practicing anti-racism through action, continuing your self-education and sharing what you've learned with others.
Rachel Cargle is here to guide you as you go. In her free 30-day course #DoTheWork, Cargle will challenge you, make you uncomfortable, push you to dig deeper as you move along your anti-racist path. In her words:
~ This course is designed to be an eye-opener and a call to action for those who seek to be allies to Black women. (Hint hint: Women's History Month!)
To #DoTheWork one must be intentional in breaking down the systems that continue to oppress and disenfranchise the Black community with Black women being the most effected. Going through these daily prompts you will be called to think critically and act tangibly in solidarity. Participating in this will be your first small step in working towards dissolving these systems, institutions, and ideologies that continue to negatively affect Black women and their communities yet benefit white people in this country.
Be aware that finishing this 30 day course will not result in a certificate of 'official allyship'. Until white supremacy is completely dismantled there will be continued work to do. This is just the start.
I hope that through my course your heart and mind will unlearn, expand, grapple, dissect, engage, and build a critical awareness that will change the way you move through the world as an ally. ~
While the course is designed to be completed in 30 days, it is available to you whenever you have time. Something is better than nothing at all (and lots is better than something), so do what you can. Get started by clicking the button below.
psst! Rachel Cargle has put in the emotional work to create this course for us. Let's pay her for it, whether it's through a one-time or recurring payment.
111 Songs Performed by Black Artists
2.27.21
It's Saturday. It's snowing. Here are 111 songs to listen/dance/sing along to today.
Reflection on "Black History / White Memory"
2.26.21
Last week I attended "Black History / White Memory," a webinar and dialogue hosted by the CRCNA (Christian Reformed Church in North America) Office of Race Relations in partnership with Calvin University and the Antioch podcast. The panelists featured were Rev. Reggie Smith (CRCNA Director of Race Relations and Social Justice), Dr. Eric Washington (Associate Professor of History and Director of African & African Diaspora Studies Program at Calvin University), and Eric Nykamp (artist, musician, and host/producer of the Antioch Worship Leadership Podcast).
Now, I am not particularly religious. But I was drawn to this seminar because I am interested in learning more about the intersection of issues of race/racism/social justice and the institution of the church. This hour-long webinar was absolutely fascinating, and I feel that I left with both a deeper understanding of that intersection and a curiosity to explore it further. But it also wasn't all about religion! It spoke to history and memory on the personal, societal, and theological level. I've linked the full webinar below (and I highly recommend watching it), but I'd like to write out a few of the most eye-opening moments from the discussion. Please note that these are paraphrased.
The overarching question this webinar sought to address was: why do white people and Black people remember the history of racial injustice so differently?
The panelists began by agreeing that an understanding of history is based on the stories we're told; and those stories will be different if we are Black or white. They referenced the "lost cause" of the Civil War and the "lost cause" of the insurrection at the Capitol this year. Their point? The events of Jan. 6th and the discussion of them afterward are part of a continuum. Americans have always (and continue to) spin narratives in the moment that things "aren't what they look like." We actually change the pathways in our brains to make us feel better. Rev. Smith made the point that (white) Americans have always distanced ourselves from our own history in order to quiet our cognitive dissonance. We mythologize narratives until it works, until the narratives become "facts."That is why so many people remember the Civil War as being about "state's rights" and have changed "the lost cause" to "the noble cause." And that is why so many people will remember the insurrection this year as a justified protest. Instead of focusing on healing, we focus on winning the narrative. And because of this, we cause more harm.
The panelists also spoke about the harm caused by the people in power; as Dr. Washington said, there has never been a moment in history when that group has admitted the system is wrong. Rev. Smith replied to this (condensed and paraphrased):
Every so often, there's a small group that gets together around a table in a boardroom and makes decisions about a lot of people outside the boardroom. Most of the people in this boardroom look like each other, and they look like most of the people in other boardrooms. Some people aren't even at the table. This begs the question: should we be building new tables?
Throughout history, leadership within the Church has been no different. The amount of pastors who feel comfortable talking about issues of race has dropped by 17% since the 2016 election. Even when they do, they speak of racism as a problem within the heart instead of within the system- it's individualized not only because it's more comfortable, but because pastors want to keep their congregation coming to church. The way to change this pattern, both within and outside of church? Humility in leadership. Dr. Washington defined humility as "listening and taking what you hear seriously." He emphasized the need for making your space safe, for practicing intentional anti-racism: "I don't want to be traumatized in the house of God." Dr. Smith added: "Don't make me carry your lost cause. Do your own work. Learn your own biases. Learn your own history."
Check out the full webinar below!
- Adelaide Fuller
Nora Maxwell: Social Justice (and Social Media) Activist
2.25.21
Today we'd like to highlight one of our favorite Instagram activists, Nora Maxwell. Through her posts and stories, she teaches us how to be better allies. We love her unique approach to her educational Instagram Stories, which all consist of 100 slides (we know that sounds like a lot, but it's really not). By adding just a little more information on each slide, Nora makes the content easily accessible and digestible. Here are just a few topics she covers: sustained action, colorism, implicit bias, "ally fatigue," and making mistakes. Give her a follow!
Why Black and not black?
2.24.21
Recently, many large news networks, companies, and other organizations have adopted a new policy: capitalize the "B" in "Black." Have you been wondering why? Here's a great explanation by the New York Times on the reason why they've made this change (and why you should, too!):
Happy birthday, W.E.B. Du Bois.
2.23.21
The first African American to receive a PhD from Harvard. Expert on economics, history, languages and literature, and sociology. Intellectual. Author.
Activist.
Today we celebrate the birthday of a man who lived life as a dedicated scholar and political organizer; who reshaped how issues of race and racism could be understood (and combated); whose legacy of intellectualism continues to challenge this nation to move toward social justice. The most important lesson he taught us is that intellectualism must always be paired with meaningful action. Racial equity is achieved through agitation and protest supported by critical thought.
An animated excerpt of an article from W.E.B. Du Bois on the alienation experienced by African Americans.
Consider what you've learned in your reading and take action. Make a donation. Sign a petition. Start a conversation. Reframe a history lesson. Knowledge without action is not enough. To honor W.E.B. Du Bois, go beyond the bookclub.
We love a good resource resource!
2.22.21
We're checking in with you today to share a great collection of resources put together by the Maine Department of Education. Over the last year, the DOE has taken some truly positive steps to demonstrate a support for anti-racist education initiatives, including making the following statements (quoted from the DOE website):
We proudly and steadfastly support the educators and districts in Maine who are taking on the work of understanding and dismantling racism and inequity in our schools and communities. We urge all Maine schools and educators to accept their role and responsibilities in examining and addressing the inequities that have long existed in our society and institutions.
Also as part of the statement there was a commitment to support:
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Every educator in every role shares the responsibility for ensuring equity for every student and participates in equity education, both in teacher and administrator preparation programs and ongoing throughout their careers.
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All academic and non-academic programming is culturally responsive and co-constructed with community members.
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Reviewing your SAU’s Controversial Issues policy and best practices for engaging in discussions responsively and responsibly.
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Expecting all school personnel to engage in professional learning about anti-racism and culturally responsive practices.
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Reviewing and revising curricula and materials to ensure they are well-rounded, decolonized, and representing all experiences.
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Establishing expectations that every student will achieve and is challenged with rigorous curricula.
We at the Department of Education (DOE) share in the outrage and frustration, and stand with those who are peacefully protesting and demanding a change. We believe in the basic human dignities that should be afforded to all people in our country. We stand with and for our many colleagues, students, and their families who identify as Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) around the state, and will do all that we can to fight racism and inequities, and to ensure they are safe and welcomed in the State of Maine. We affirm with you that Black Lives Matter.
Also as part of the statement there was a commitment to:
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Providing resources and encouraging Black History and Ethnic Studies in PK-12 curricula and decolonizing current curricula.
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Honoring and celebrating all the languages, cultures, histories, and identities of our colleagues, students and their families
As part of their commitment to providing resources, the DOE put together these resource lists with "influence from Facing History and Ourselves Pedagogical Triangle and conversations with staff at the Holocaust and Human Rights Center of Maine." Check them out!
White Supremacy in History: a Learning Opportunity
2.21.21
There are so many ways to honor and celebrate Black History Month, from seeking out movies and literature that center Black joy to teaching about lesser known Black historical figures in your classroom. As we head into the final week of February, we'd like to share with you an opportunity to learn about the complexities of teaching history: whose narratives are generally considered "true" and why. This coming Tuesday, join the CRCNA Office of Race Relations for a Virtual Roundtable Discussion on this question: "Why do white people and Black people remember the history of racial injustice so differently?" The mission of this free event, titled Black History / White Memory, is to teach the "importance of seeing history from other perspectives than your own and arouse a curiosity in the collective story."
Before you head to the event on Tuesday, check out this interview with a Harvard historian about his upcoming book called “Teaching White Supremacy: The Textbook Battle Over Race in American History.” In this book, Donald Yacovone pays particularly close attention to the pattern of history textbooks from the 19th and 20th centuries defining 'American' as "...white and only white." Through his research, Yacovone hopes to show the importance of teaching hard history in the classroom:
"This is essential work that has to be done. If America is to be a nation that fulfills its democratic promise, the history of slavery and white supremacy have to be taught in schools across the country. We need to acknowledge that white supremacy remains an integral part of American society and we need to understand how we got to where we are."
This is the final week of Black History Month, but it is imperative that you carry your curiosity, energy, and passion for a more equitable approach to education past the end of February. Check out our home page for more workshops and learning opportunities this week that will inspire you to keep the ball rolling!
*Black History / White Memory will be recorded and available for On Demand viewing to registered attendees following the live presentation.
Tell Me The Truth: a Learning Opportunity
2.20.21
Today we want to pass along this opportunity to you; it's called "Tell Me the Truth: Exploring the Heart of Cross-Racial Conversations." Shay Stewart-Bouley (aka Black Girl in Maine) and Debby Irving (author of Waking Up White) will address this question: "How can we speak openly and honestly in cross-racial conversations? What would such a conversation even look like?" They will do this by:
1. Sharing racism’s "impact on their lives and how cross-racial conversation has been instrumental in their own understanding of 21st-century racial dynamics,"
2. Exploring the "common fears and pitfalls of cross-racial conversation that keep people isolated in their own racial groups, at the expense of personal, professional, and societal growth,"
3. Helping audience members "understand how interpersonal social patterns hinder organizations from living up to their own ideals for diversity," and
4. Offering suggestions to "create racial justice habits that can move us from isolated events to sustainable connections."
We can't wait to see you there!
*Please note that this is a paid event. Tickets are $14.99.
Buy Black Art: Jade Purple Brown
2.19.21
"Jade Purple Brown is an artist living in New York City. Her work uses strong figures, vibrant colors, and messages of optimism to create new, dynamic worlds of individuality and empowerment." Check out her work at jadepurplebrown.com and on her Instagram @jadepurplebrown.
Happy Birthday, Toni Morrison.
2.18.21
Today would have been Toni Morrison's 90th birthday. She is the only African American writer and one of the few women to have received the Nobel prize for literature.
Morrison channeled her childhood love of storytelling into a BA from Howard University and an MA in English from Cornell, and after graduating she became a senior editor at Random House Publishing. She held that position for 20 years, during which time she developed an extensive canon of Black work. She then moved on to produce work of her own, which became some of the most celebrated pieces of American literature: Beloved, The Song of Solomon, Love, and more.
Morrison compared her writing and its technique to music in the way its significance, tone and meaning can shift each time it's read. She crafted her 'music' with a style, structure and tone that is specifically African American. She used this same lens to construct her content. In a 1998 interview, she declared: “'The black narrative has always been understood to be a confrontation with some white people ... They’re not terribly interesting to me. What is interesting to me is what is going on within the community. And within the community, there are no major white players. Once I thought: ‘What is life like if they weren’t there?’ Which is the way we lived it, the way I lived it.'" This perspective was just as important to her as the way she crafted words. In her acceptance speech for the 1993 Nobel prize, Morrison emphasized the importance of language “partly as a system, partly as a living thing over which one has control, but mostly as an agency – as an act with consequences”.
Toni Morrison's death was felt keenly in the literary world, but the beauty is that her voice lives on. In her own words: "We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives."
- Adelaide Fuller
The Essential Toni Morrison: a reading guide by the NY Times
The Queen of Drag: William Dorsey Swann
2.17.21
Most of us are familiar with the Stonewall riots of 1969. Some of us have probably heard that Black trans women threw the first stones at those riots. But did you know that there was someone fighting for queer freedom nearly a century before those riots happened? Introducing William Dorsey Swann, the first 'queen of drag.' Born into slavery in 1858, Swann would go on to be the first activist to lead a queer resistance group, host underground drag balls in Washington DC, and take specific legal steps to defend the queer community's right to gather. The following is an excerpt from Channing Gerard Joseph's forthcoming biography “House of Swann: Where Slaves Became Queens — And Changed the World” about one of Swann's many encounters with police.
When the police burst through the door of the two-story residence in northwest Washington, D.C., just half a mile from the White House, they discovered dozens of black men dancing together there, wearing silk and satin dresses made “according to the latest fashions” of 1888. Most of them were former slaves or the children of slaves.
As soon as the partygoers saw the officers, the dancing stopped. The attendees looked on in shock for a brief moment before scurrying to make their getaway. …
William Dorsey Swann, the self-proclaimed “queen” of the gathering, had no intention of running away. It was his thirtieth birthday celebration, and according to The Washington Post, he was “arrayed in a gorgeous dress of cream-colored satin.” Unlike the others, he ran frantically toward the officers in a vain attempt to keep them from entering the room. “The queen stood in an attitude of royal defiance,” The National Republican noted on its front page. Swann, “bursting with rage,” told the police, “‘You is no gentlemen.’” A brawl ensued, and his “handsome” gown was torn to shreds….
The LGBTQIA+ community owes so much to Black queer folks. And that includes the history-making William Dorsey Swann. He fearlessly (and fabulously) set the stage for the activists that came after him. Thank you, Queen.
- Adelaide Fuller
The Black Church: PBS Premiere
2.16.21
Tonight and tomorrow at 9/8C
"The Black Church: This Is Our Story, This Is Our Song is a moving four-hour, two-part series from executive producer, host and writer Henry Louis Gates, Jr., the Alphonse Fletcher University Professor at Harvard University and director of the Hutchins Center for African and African American Research, that traces the 400-year-old story of the Black church in America, all the way down to its bedrock role as the site of African American survival and grace, organizing and resilience, thriving and testifying, autonomy and freedom, solidarity and speaking truth to power.
The documentary reveals how Black people have worshipped and, through their spiritual journeys, improvised ways to bring their faith traditions from Africa to the New World, while translating them into a form of Christianity that was not only truly their own, but a redemptive force for a nation whose original sin was found in their ancestors’ enslavement across the Middle Passage"
For more information about (and previews of) this event, click here.
Black Love Songs
2.14.21
My top 5 favorite feel-good tunes by Black artists about loving. For Valentine's Day and every day. - Adelaide Fuller
The Black National Anthem
2.13.21
The Super Bowl stirs up controversy about the official American national anthem every year. Athletes kneel, networks discuss, fans get angry. It has long been known that The Star Spangled Banner does not resonate with, or speak for, all Americans. Not only does its reference to "the land of the free" willfully ignore the fact that this country was built by stolen people on stolen land, but its little-known (and rarely performed) third verse marks the song as as a white supremacist anthem. The man who penned it enslaved Black people, so it's not all that surprising.
So why don't we pick something new? This question has begun circulating more and more in recent years. But did you know that an entire community in the United States recognizes a different anthem as their own already? It's the Black National Anthem: "Lift Very Voice and Sing." Here's two versions fr you to listen to, one by Aretha Franklin and one by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. How incredible is the scope of Black influence in music (and in general)?
Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun
Let us march on till victory is won
You may have heard it for the first time during the Super Bowl this year, when Alicia Keys performed it. It is not hard to understand why this anthem resonates with the Black community. It is full of hope, and simultaneously recognizes the struggles of the past while calling for strength in the present. It truly speaks to the power of the people: every person, every voice. For more history on the song, check out this youtube video.
White Parents, Raising Black Children
2.12.21
A white River Valley grandma told me some years ago that her daughter, who grew up here and graduated from a River Valley high school, would never come back here to live because she "knows how these people are." Her daughter is the mother of a child whose father is Black.
I remember thinking, how sad. She might come for a visit but never come home to live.
Many of our bi-racial children, who identify or call themselves Black, live the life of the children in this "white family."
Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man is a series that we can all watch. Here is one example.
- Adelaide Solomon-Jordan
Center Black Joy in Your Reading
2.11.21
People are reading about racism and anti-racism more than ever before. Books like How to Be An Anti-Racist, A People's History of the United States, and Between the World and Me have been repeatedly selling out at bookstores. And that's great, it really is. But a lot of the information we consume about Blackness is about suffering. It's about overcoming adversity. It's about violence.
But that is not the definition of Blackness. There are endless reasons to celebrate and to honor Black culture and Black people, and that is why we need to intentionally expand our idea of Blackness by consuming media (whether that's books, films, social media accounts, etc.) that centers Black joy.
I found this lovely curated collection of books that will help you and I diverge from our narrow vision of Blackness. The list was put together by Refinery29, and the graphics were designed by Bitter Blush (two accounts you should follow on Instagram!). I'm going to start with Pride, because it's a remix of my favorite Jane Austen novel. The other there titles are to be published this spring: pre-order and be the first to get your hands on these reads! Click on each graphic for an online retailer with these books in stock.
Unlearning a false narrative
2.10.21
Often those of us who live in the North grew up with the idea that slavery was something that happened in the South, and that we fought a war to stop it. However, the truth is not that simple. All parts of America benefited from slavery, and that continues to this day. A friend recently pointed out that Maine's shipbuilding tradition has roots in slavery as well. Many of the ships built in this state were used to transport people stolen from Africa and brought here as slaves.
To read about how slave-built infrastructure still creates wealth in the US, click the top photo.
To read about how urban inequality in the U.S. can be traced to unresolved issues and injustices lingering from the slave trade era, click the bottom photo. This article is an excerpt from Carl Anthony's The Earth, The City, and the Hidden Narrative of Race, a valuable resource on this topic.
To learn more about Maine's particular role in the slave trade, check out this Maine Calling podcast by MPBN. The North was never a shining beacon of equity, and that is an important myth to unlearn as Mainers striving for an antiracist future. Reconciling with the past (and making reparations) is the way forward.
- Chris Ford + Adelaide Fuller
The 1872 Vicksburg & Brunswick Depot, a passenger and freight station in Eufala, served the Eufala and Georgia Central rail lines, among others.
Wall Street around 1850.
Black Lives Matter as a Curriculum
2.9.21
This Friday, February 12th, hop on Zoom for a discussion about the Black Lives Matter syllabus with its creator, Dr. Frank Leon Roberts. This is a great opportunity for educators looking to expand their curriculum in an effort to incorporate BLM into their teaching.
This is the first of the Anna Julia Cooper Center's Spring 2021 Black Lives Matter Guest Speaker Series, which will "help attendees understand the contemporary web of social, political, economic, and direct actions operating under the broad theme of Black Lives Matter."
To learn more about and register for this event, click the photo.
For more upcoming (free!) workshop and learning opportunities, head to the schedule on our home page.
(Thank you, Adelaide Solomon-Jordan, for sharing this opportunity!)
- Adelaide Fuller
What is #selfcare and why should white people
choose a different phrase?
2.8.21
I'd like to share with you something I just learned recently. We've all heard the phrase "self care," especially during the pandemic. My friends, the companies I buy from, even some of the shows I watch- everyone has been using this term to describe acts of kindness toward yourself. Think bath soaks, tea, naps. But what is this term really about? Where did it come from?
Let me introduce you to the Nap Ministry. Founded in 2016 by Tricia Hersey, it is an organization that examines the 'liberating power of naps.' They believe that 'rest is a form of resistance and reparations.' (Give them a follow on Instagram!) But this idea is not new. The idea of self-care as resistance can be traced back to the 1960s, when the Black Panther Party and other civil rights activists popularized the term. When we reflect on activism of this time, we tend to remember dissent and resistance in the form of marches and protests; but did you know that community care was (and is) central to the mission of social justice activists? And it makes sense; historically Black people and other communities of color have had unequal access to healthcare and social services, and so they've needed to build community resources from the ground up. Community and self care are of survival as much as acts of love. As they became more popular, these practices also became a way to disrupt the capitalist/white supremacist culture that insists (and relies) on the constant labor of marginalized groups and sustain the generations-long fight for social justice.
Self care continues to serve these purposes. The Nap Ministry believes rest is 'a spiritual practice, a racial justice issue and a social justice issue.' Says Hersey, founder: "I began experimenting with these ideals as a way to connect with my Ancestors, to receive a Word from them and to honor my body via rest for the rest they never were able to embody... This is about more than naps."
Centering reparations in their ideology, the Nap Ministry believes that marginalized groups (especially Black women) must give themselves the space for rest and leisure they've never been allowed since the time of slavery. Generational trauma requires intentional self healing. THAT is self care.
As so often happens, the history and true purpose of the practice of self care has been overshadowed by white people's desire to use the phrase. This is called appropriation. We like something - a practice, a hair style, a dance, a word or phrase - from another culture, we take it, we 'make it our own.' Think Adam Levine with cornrows. Yuck. So let's think about this in relation to "self care." This practice was born as, and continues two be, radical resistance by Black people and other marginalized groups. Do I really need to use it to describe my Sunday afternoon reading session with a cup of tea? Let's honor the history of the term and acknowledge the significance of words moving forward by finding a different phrase. My friends and I have landed on "me time." What will you choose?
- Adelaide Fuller
Well, what can I do?
2.7.21
When I've chatted with (white) people about anti-racist work, one of the most common phrases I've heard is something like: "There's absolutely a problem with racism, but I don't really know where to start." We're here to help you as you go! I'd like to share a short list of pieces of general advice that have helped me do this work, followed by a long list of specific steps you can take.
1. People of color have been doing this work for a very long time.
This is the reality of it. If you're feeling overwhelmed when you think of all the work you have to do, just come back to this one simple fact. Take a deep breath, and dive back in!
2. Listen to, and amplify, BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and other People of Color) voices.
As mentioned above, people of color have been doing this work for a very long time. They have written, they have spoken, they have presented. The resources are out there, and it is important to honor their work by centering their voices.
3. Have the tough conversations.
We all know what I'm talking about: the awkward silence and quick topic-change after an uncle makes a racist comment at Thanksgiving dinner. It is time to stop avoiding the difficult conversations, though it may be awkward and uncomfortable. If you don't address it, who will? Be brave, and break the cycle.
4. You're going to make mistakes, and that's okay.
One of the most important things to remember about anti-racist work is that it is life-long. We are always learning and growing! Approach this work with humility, accept criticism with grace, and take responsibility when you are wrong. Just keep showing up, every day, and recommitting to your work. We're proud of you for being here.
Looking for more specific ways to take action? CLICK HERE for a list of 103 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice.
- Adelaide Fuller
Mamie Smith, Queen of the Blues
2.6.21
What's your favorite genre of music? Country? Jazz? Blues? Rock? Folk? Hip Hop? Rap? Pop? I'd like to let you in on a little secret. Unless it's symphonic or operatic, Black people created it.
This is something I didn't fully understand until college, where I was lucky enough to take Jazz History and History of African American (or just... American) Popular Music with Doc Woods in college. Doc deserves a blog post all to himself at some point. One of the things I loved most about Doc was his absolute reverence for Black women in music. And one of the first he told us about in History of African American Popular Music was Mamie Smith, Queen of the Blues.
To quickly give some background: the roots of American blues lay on southern plantations. Black people enslaved there sang in the fields, and the blues genre can be traced to African spirituals, African chants, work songs, and field hollers. Music was an expression of solidarity and of protest. After emancipation, African American musicians sought a new sound that still paid tribute to their musical roots, and the blues was born. Characterized by 'bent' or 'blue' notes (outside of the standard Western scale, likely originating in field work songs), the blues evoke feelings of longing, loss, and desire. It started to pick up popularity, but it was Black, and in the late 19th- and early 20th Century, that was a problem. White music moguls insisted there was no market for African American or "race" recordings.
Then came Mamie Smith. We don't know a whole lot about her early years, but scholars believe she was born in Cincinnati in 1883. By age 10, she was a touring, professional vaudeville entertainer. By age 20, she was the star of Made in Harlem at the Lincoln Theater. Perry Bradford, who produced that show, had also written a song called "Crazy Blues." 101 years ago this month, Bradford brought Mamie Smith into a recording studio and she laid down the vocal track for what is considered the first blues song on record. To say it was a success would be a massive understatement. Selling over a million copies in its first year, "Crazy Blues" simultaneously launched Mamie Smith into stardom and wealth, proved that African American music did indeed have a market, and brought Black women front and center in popular music. She paved the way for some of the greats: Bessie Smith, Mama Rainey, Ida Cox, and others. And she has often been cited as the musical inspiration for famous musicians up until this day.
In the 1920s and 30s, Mamie Smith and her Jazz Hounds toured major cities in the US and performed for thousands of people, diverse and typically segregated. For her concerts, Mamie developed a signature look that made her instantly recognizable: stylish and elaborate gowns fit for a queen. Her favorite was made of white silk and she paired it with an ostrich feather headdress and fan. (Doc Woods loved to talk about her wardrobe in class.) She was a national and international star, and she truly defined the blues with her captivating performances.
I think it is as important to talk about her death as her life. Mamie Smith lost virtually everything in the stock market crash of 1929, and when she died in 1946 she was buried in an unmarked grave in Frederick Douglass Memorial Park on Staten Island. She was not honored with a headstone until 2014, nearly 70 years later. Isn't that strange? Well, perhaps not. Black musicians have been repeatedly overlooked throughout history, even the Queen of the Blues. But we can honor her by keeping her story alive, and by listening to "Crazy Blues" and imagining the ostrich-feather adorned powerhouse who sang it.
- Adelaide Fuller
Student Voices
2.5.21
Q: Tell me the first time you challenged, or thought about challenging, racism.
For the past fifteen, almost sixteen, years of my life I have been surrounded by many racist ideologies, as many have. I had the privilege to choose not to get involved with civil rights and antiracist movements in the past because I thought that it was “wrong” or did not “concern me”. I feel part of the reason that I did not get involved was truly that I did not want to self reflect or take the time to educate myself because it would make me uncomfortable. As we all know police brutality towards people of color has been an ongoing thing for years but has definitely been amplified on social media in the past few months. I am a huge fan of educating myself through social media and literature and it, unfortunately, took seeing it on social media for me to realize how wrong this was and how I absolutely needed to learn how I can help. Since then, I have been doing as much as I possibly can to work towards the goal of being an actively anti-racist ally to all people of color. Throughout this ongoing experience, I learned more about everything involving racism, social justice, and white privilege than I have in my 10+ years of being in school. It has not been an easy journey so far by any means, but I am growing from the process and appreciating the opportunities that it has provided me along the way like having meaningful conversations with loved ones or even with teachers that may be difficult to have, but worth it in the long run.
- Carly, RSU 10 Student
Have you heard of Malaga Island?
2.4.21
We graduate students every year who have never heard of Malaga Island. Why?
I attended the 2012 opening exhibit. It was incredible to be there when a picture was taken of the descendents, a racially mixed group of people. I watched as they caught up with each other over decades of separation. One proud white woman from New York told me about her brother who hated that she was there. He said he wanted nothing to do with it. She was embarrassed that her brother was ashamed of their mixed race heritage. She carried 3/ 5 cards and was getting contact information from all her relatives. She had approached me thinking I was a descendent.
At the event, I noticed Gov. LaPage talking for quite a while to a young descendent who turned out to be a student at UConn. He announced he was going to get the state legislature to establish a college scholarship for descendents. As it turned out there was a time limited dollar limited scholarship established.
Alexa Allen (RSU 10 Graduate) tells the story of Malaga Island.
It was a middle school teacher who revived interest in the story of Malaga Island. Her students can be heard telling the story following their study. They placed a small marker at the location of the burial place of former residents at what we now call Pineland. At the time it was the Maine School for the Feeble-minded. That is another ugly, painful part of the story.
Below are several youtube videos and other sources. This is an example of history hidden in plain sight. Why do we not teach this? It is Maine history, Eugenics history, African American history, American history.
C-SPAN segment on Malaga Island
Malaga Island descendent tells her story
Malaga Island and Pineland Cemetery
Why do we not teach this story, and when it is time, field trip this story? Why?
- Adelaide Solomon-Jordan
"Coming to Terms with Tragedy Through Art": the artwork of Daniel Minter, twice selected to create the Kwaanza Stamp (click this image for further information!)
On Rosa Parks
2.3.21
Because the telling of the American story has focused on, and been primarily told from an eurocentric/white view, the African descent part of the story is usually portrayed with a one dimensional view of the people involved. One dimensional and on a pedestal leaves little room for us to relate to the humanity of the individual.
Rosa Parks becomes, in this opinion piece, the human being she was and so much more the shero we are called to admire.
- Adelaide Solomon-Jordan
To read "The Real Rosa Parks Story is Better Than the Fairy Tale," featured in the New York Times, click the image.
David and Me, pt. 1
2.2.21
I went to elementary school in Bloomfield, Connecticut. Bloomfield borders Hartford to the north, and the north end of Hartford in the 1960’s was poor and almost exclusively minority. Bloomfield was the escape hatch for families looking for a little more space, better schools, and a little more safety. For whatever reasons, and I’m sure there were a few, Blacks were not moving to the other Hartford suburbs. Bloomfield was their preferred choice. Or more than likely, knowing what I know now about redlining, their only choice.
I bring this up to give you some context. However, none of it was even remotely known to David and me at the time. David was Black and I was white, still am. And while I can’t speak for him, I can say for me the fact that we both had a major lust for reptiles, and if pressed amphibians, was 99% of what mattered. Anything else, to us, had little relevance. I suspect the fixation started with dinosaurs, but if it did, it quickly evolved towards more easily attainable critters like snakes and turtles.
David wasn’t my first friend - we met in first grade - but he was certainly my best friend. Every day of the school year, we were doing something together. Summers I spent with relatives in Maine, but we’d write. Me in barely decipherable big block letters about crabs, and snails and sea urchins. He, in the tight neat script of the artist he was, about the aforementioned snakes and turtles. Occasionally we were allowed the extreme privilege, and those of you as gray as me will understand the gravity of this, of a long distance phone call.
Come September we were back at it though. The Gods miraculously always put us in the same class. And whatever class that was had the best terrarium in the school. Or perhaps, if we had some species that might consume each other, terrariums. The teachers in those days had the freedom, and insight, to let us go after it. Just beyond our school playing fields was a small shallow brook which was technically off limits. Our teachers would be shocked, yes shocked, at the amount and variety of wildlife David and I were able to discover and capture while confined to the worn athletic fields and blacktop. Once, with the help of of a broomstick and our janitor Mr. Smiley - that’s right, Mr. Smiley - we were allowed to parade a 30 lb. snapping turtle around the school. There is perhaps nothing that gives two turtle toting boys more street-cred than that.
Our school was located on the Hartford side of town in a racially mixed neighborhood of small ranches alongside double and triple decker apartment buildings. That was David’s turf. I was bused from the far side of town which was formerly rural, but rapidly becoming suburbia. In my neighborhood, there were plenty of woods, fields, swamps, but unless David came to visit no Blacks. It was a luxury, but we did visit as much as we could convince our one car families to play pick-up-the-kid. Going to David’s, I got to walk home from school with him. Here I first experienced the utter joy of walking away from school with a pack of friends on a perfect fall day. I generally did fine in David’s neighborhood because there was always a football or baseball game and I was a pretty good athlete. In fact, even though one of our favorite pastimes was cutting on each other (and I was not known for my sensitivity), I never brought up that, in choosing teams, I’d get picked before him.
For David, coming to my space was totally different yet just as good. One, he got to ride the bus; something he only got to do on our once- or twice yearly field trips. Two, there was plenty of hunting ground. After a quick snack, it was off to the woods where we stayed until whenever his appointed time of departure was. I had more habitat than David did in his neighborhood, but less humans. However, David got along just fine with whomever we happened to bump into or run with. He’d tell me that because his last name was Shaw, he had the Irish gift of gab. Later on, when girls entered the picture, he’d like brag about his rap. Whatever he’d want to call it, it was there. If he were a salesman and you were looking to hold onto whatever was in you wallet, you’d be in peril.
Elementary school went on basically like this. Snakes and turtles transitioned to fishing, then girls. Whatever the attraction, we went together. Middle school is a time of change and it certainly was for us. I’ll leave that to the next post.
- Doug Barber
It's not just a shirt.
2.1.21
One of many reasons this mother works to dismantle racism.
"Last summer I went to visit my daughter in Portland. We were walking down Congress Street when we saw a sign in front of a tiny print shop that said they were collecting donations for BLM related causes and giving a free t-shirt for every donation. We went inside, made our donations and received our shirts. Later that day we walked around Portland in our matching Black Lives Matter shirts and visited the various murals, signs and flags supporting the movement. It was a very positive, uplifting day. Wearing that same shirt in the River Valley, however, has a completely different result. I have never been able to wear that shirt in public without attracting dirty looks and outright death stares. I shared this fact with my daughters and they said “Be careful, Mom. Stay safe.”- the same thing I tell them when they go out. But my reality is very different. All I have to do to avoid the aggression and micro-aggression that racism causes is to put on a different shirt, not a different skin. There is so much work to do to change a system that supports systemic racism. We need to work together and be the change."
- Chris Ford
My Hero Monday:
Eugene Goodman
1.25.21
From protecting the senate from an angry mob during the insurrection at the Capitol to escorting Vice President Kamala Harris at the Presidential Inauguration: here's the story of a Black man who put his body, his very life, in harm's way to protect a government that has rarely served him (and how he was recognized for his heroism).
You may have seen his face on the news, but did you remember his name? Hailing from Southeast Washington and an army veteran, Eugene Goodman faced down a nightmare on January 6th that white people cannot fathom. In front of him was a mob of white men carrying Confederate flags and proudly bearing white supremacist symbols, zip ties in hand. They were on their way to the Senate chambers - it is horrifying to think what their plan was once they reached that room. It had all the bone-chilling hallmarks of a lynching. Before them was an officer of the law; they only saw a Black man unwilling to step aside. Based on the screaming and yelling in the video below, that infuriated them. But Goodman kept his head. He steered the mob away from the Senate chambers where the leaders of our government were taking cover behind benches and under seats, away from a door into those chambers that was still unguarded. He saved lives. You can watch the viral video of his bravery here (please note that this video contains explicit language).
Goodman's heroic actions were recognized on January 20th when he escorted Vice President Kamala Harris (the first women and the first person of color to hold that office in history) to the Presidential Inauguration ceremony as acting deputy Senate sergeant at arms. And last week bipartisan lawmakers introduced legislation to award Goodman with a Congressional Gold Medal - one of the highest honors awarded to American civilians. He certainly
deserves it.
Friday Reflection on a MYAN Training
1.21.21
This past Tuesday I participated in my first Maine Youth Action Network training. In short, it was fantastic. The theme was "Uprooting Inequity," and it included discussions of vocabulary as well as group activities (more on that in a minute).
Here's the vocabulary we went over and why using the correct language leads to a stronger understanding of systemic issues.
EQUALITY vs EQUITY
These terms are often used interchangeably, but in fact they describe two different things. The difference is between equal and fair. For example, what is equal access to resources as opposed to fair access? Equal access means everyone gets the same tools (in a classroom, every student getting the same amount of time to complete a standardized test). This is equal. But is it fair? Will all of your students with varying needs be able to complete this task within the same time constraints? The answer is likely no. What is fair? Fair is customized tools based on the needs of the individual student (such as, in the case of a student with a learning disability being given extra time to complete the task, perhaps with an adult present to keep them on track).
Here is a helpful visual aid to use when discussing the difference between equality and equity:
Finally, there's JUSTICE, in which we've achieved the goal of restructuring the very system that created inequality.
The use of trees for this lesson ended up being central to the group activity that came next. It's called The Change Tree.
In this exercise we split off into small groups with an assigned facilitator. We examined the following graphic and discussed its meaning.
It's pretty self explanatory! Let's look at an example.
In my group, we decided to dissect the topic "COVID Hardships." As this training is primarily (but not exclusively!) targeted towards educators, we specifically looked at COVID Hardships related to school and kids. It was easy to pick out the symptoms: they're what you see every day, what you immediately recognize. Let's say the symptom is "lack of consistent student attendance during virtual learning." We know this is an issue.
But what caused it? What are the root causes? First, we identified "unequal access to childcare." Caretakers are working, and some (most?) of them can't afford a nanny or babysitter. We thought we were done! And then our facilitator pressed us with the most important question:
Why? She encouraged us to dig deeper, to think more critically. And that's when we figured it out! A person working 40 hours for the current minimum wage in Maine can barely afford the essentials, let alone childcare. And there's the why. The current minimum wage causes unequal access to childcare. And that causes poor student attendance in virtual classrooms. And guess what? We could go so much further with the why. We could discuss the gender pay gap between men and women. We could discuss the pay gap between white women and women of color. We could discuss the pay gap between Hispanic women and Black women. We could discuss the pay gap between Black women and Indigenous women. You get the point. There's a LOT to unpack.
Now we get to the branches. The branches are the policies (or lack thereof) that connect the roots to the leaves. With this particular example it wasn't too hard to identify. Minimum wage laws must be shifted to reflect modern-day living costs. The gender and racial pay gap must be eradicated through stricter policies. Etc.
I loved this exercise not only because it is a way to connect with and challenge your peers, but because it is a useful tool for discussing big issues of inequity with young people. The biggest takeaway for me from this training was that children must be treated as collaborators when we approach these topics. "From the mouths of babes..." We must create a space and share the power for everyone, including our kiddos, to voice their concerns and opinions. This visual aid can help.
For the full "Uprooting Inequity" presentation and tools, please click here. To learn more about The Maine Youth Action Network, click here. Upcoming workshops can be found on our home page.
Thank you! Keep an eye out for blog post updates by subscribing to our newsletter.
- Adelaide Fuller
The Story of Martin Luther King Jr. by Kid President
1.15.21
Once upon a time, there was a man named Martin Luther King, Jr. He taught us that things won't always be awesome, but your response can be. Remember, things don't always have to be they are. We can change them! Kids can change them. This Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, celebrate the promise of change with Kid President.