Janelle Gray's Blog, page 8

We're Great Just Because We Are

At the beginning of every year, African Americans all around the country prepare for February with Black History Month. We become excited for a time to celebrate us in a way that, in this country, isn’t seen very often or, at least, not as often as our white counterparts. We teach our kids about the brilliance of Martin Luther King Jr, Malcolm X, Fredrick Douglas, and so many more. We help our sons, daughters, nieces, and nephews do book reports for class so they can talk about the joy and spirit of the African soul.For me, as a young black kid, it was always a month of pride. It was a month that said, “Look at what we can do. Look at how powerful your people are regardless of adversity.” It became a time where I felt like we were proving to “others” that we were great. Accept our greatness. Then, the month would be over and all that pride would become silent again. Not necessarily disappear — but not as salient as it was.As I’ve gotten older, that sense of pride that I feel so strongly in the month of February I now feel all the time because I'm seeing a shift in how our history is being told. I see these black women and men breaking barriers and being the first African American to do incredible things. With hashtags like #BlackGirlMagic and #BlackBoyJoy, social media won't let me forget that we are amazing. My young nieces and nephews are growing up in a world where this is commonplace. And I think that's awesome.As for me, I started to be vocally and unapologetically proud of my people and myself later because I was learning that our history didn’t start at slavery or the civil rights movement — and it didn’t end after segregation. Had I been taught this early on, year round, I may have moved through the world a little differently.Now, before we get into the “But civil rights and slavery are important pieces of information and history that we need to learn,” I want to be preemptive and say, yes it is. When I was young, if someone asked me, “Why are you proud to be black? Where does that strength and pride come from?” I would probably say, with my 10-year-old innocence, “Well, Martin Luther King Jr. is an example of how we fought back regardless of the risks and we can do it without killing or harming others. That takes strength and I am proud of that strength” — or anything along those lines. I wouldn’t have necessarily been wrong. However, starting our history there or at slavery just sounds like we’re amazing because our oppressors forced us to be. That is simply incorrect. Yet, that’s how it’s always been taught.It wasn’t until I made it to college — yes, college — that I started venturing out on my own. I started to discover the many other people and other things that made us great but had nothing to do with anybody else but ourselves. Now, of course there are always certain levels of adversity when you’re black and just trying to make in this world. But I think there’s a difference in teaching our kids that our strength is a response to someone else’s discrimination and teaching them that our strength is something that we conjured up on our own.For example, when I was 20 years old, I sat in my best friend’s living room and cried as I watched the first black president be sworn into office. I felt weak but sturdy. I felt energized yet drained. I felt scared but proud and brave. Then I thought, why do I feel these things? It was because as a kid, I was taught that black excellence came at a price and the catalyst for that excellence was white oppression. Then I thought, Obama didn’t run this race to prove to white people that he could do it or to force white people to give him something that was denied for so long. He did it because he was great on his own. That was one of my first tastes of excellence that depended only on a black man’s willingness to be great and not as an answer to someone else’s power.I don’t want to invalidate any of the great works that leaders like Harriet Tubman to Fredrick Douglas to MLK Jr. and even Kaepernick did and are doing for our community. I think those things need to continue to be taught as well. We need to keep them visible not only in February but also year round. However, little black boy me would have loved to learn about Ira Aldridge, an African-British actor and playwright who became wildly successful portraying Othello. And I love that my nieces can look at Ava Roberts, the youngest African-American female doctor.I want them to know that greatness can come through their own volition. It doesn’t always have to be an answer to the oppressor. They don’t have to wait for permission to show their greatness. They can just be. I’m proud of that and I love that I can now see that represented and manifesting in so many ways across the world now. Of course, it’s all because of the backs that we had to stand on but it’s wonderful to see the fruits of what our ancestors were fighting for and also understand that long before Amistad, we were great kings, queens, princes, and princesses. That’s the history that was omitted from my teachings but I know it now and generations after me will know it too. Just like 20-year-old me, they can look at people like Obama and know that greatness doesn’t always have to manifest from oppressive, racial pain.

Hitting a Nerve: Teaching Black History in English Class

To paraphrase a friend’s reflection on being a black student during units on black history at her school in the UK: Year after year, it is a repetition of atrocities from slavery to racism, and I am tired of hearing that we are just victims and nothing else.Those of us who end up teaching units on black history are not always historians nor do we all have any lived experience as black people. Over the past decade, I have repeatedly taught units on black history, race, and racism, all in the contexts of ESL/EFL classes both in the US and in Colombia. While my undergraduate degree is in history, I’m primarily trained as an English teacher, and teaching black history certainly requires a different set of skills than teaching verb tenses or writing effective emails because those things don’t hit, collectively, at issues as varied and deep as pride, injustice, rectification, responsibility, love of culture, current and past politics, and white normativity.I want my students to be informed about how racism functions, past and present, but I don’t want them to feel like my friend in the example above — reduced to a sum of atrocities. Below is a brief list of work-in-progress maxims about teaching classes that I repeat to myself as I address the topic. It is what I try to do, as a white teacher, in classrooms where students may have had no previous academic discussions about the topic.A multiplicity of storiesIt is important that our students be informed about past and present racism. It is also important not to teach that blackness is synonymous with victimhood. If the black history we teach is only measured in terms of terribleness, it may be time to diversify our content.Does the black history I teach include a multiplicity of stories from creativity, art, and innovation, to joy, humor, and literature? The Black Diaspora? Black thinkers?It is not my job to provide one definitive story of black history, but to open the door to this multiplicity of stories that the students can engage with.There will be resistanceTalking honestly about black history will touch upon racism. And that is a difficult conversation to have because it implicates so many of us. There will be resistance.Where one student hears, "This is a story of how my ancestors resisted and overcame," another student will hear, "This is just a story about how my ancestors were bad."Anticipate and manage this resistance. Such fragility need not be terminal. If I was doomed to occupy the highest level of white fragility I have ever felt, I would not be writing any of this.There’s no need to make enemies of students who resist; this corners them into a place from which they cannot change their minds without losing face. That benefits nobody.Instead, demonstrate enthusiasm and appreciation for the subject. And remember, the quiet ones are taking notes, too. Recognize, redirect, and swiftly move on.Give Everyone a StakeOne way to model enthusiasm and to redirect resistance is to give everybody, especially in a multi-racial classroom, a stake in the topic.Am I giving all students the opportunity to research and present, write about, create art, or teach a facet of black history they are curious about? Am I allowing them to be investigators and contributors, or treating them as wrongs to be righted?You Can’t Outrun the Discomfort of RacismIn the US, we have no widespread model for how to talk about racism in a way that actually works. In white households, the racism conversation is often reduced to, "Racists are bad. We are not bad. But black people do bad things, too." Learning black history, on a social level, can mean unlearning such old patterns and acquiring new ways of being with one another, with history, and with ourselves. The teacher is not outside of this process. Are you modeling more constructive ways of reacting that would be healthy for students to adopt, or do you continue to model the hostility to the subject that is so prevalent?You can’t outrun the discomfort of racism. Instead of showing fragility, work on modeling humility and openness.Hold off on OpinionsAsking students what they think about black history or racism can turn into a round of "Let’s share our long-held prejudices and reveal how little we’ve thought about this." It can be unpleasant for black students to hear their classmates’ thoughts if these are unsympathetic, and difficult for the non-black students to retract those thoughts if they have declared in favor of them publicly.If you are going to discuss racism, give a sociological definition and analyze instances through that lens. Making questions focused on academic content rather than opinion can lead to much more fruitful classes for everyone.Is it Nice to be Black in My Classroom?And perhaps the most important litmus test: Is being a black student during my lessons on black history a pleasant experience? Are non-black students learning about the ills of racism at the expense of black students in the class? Is my classroom a space where black students enjoy the lessons, where there is space to love their heritage and culture, see themselves in the texts, criticize, joke around, feel somber, define themselves, and take pride in the millions of stories that are theirs? Or is it a unit they must suffer through the ignorance of others and the narrowness of the curriculum, as my friend who was tired of only hearing about victimhood?I think it’s clear which answer is preferable, and that is the class I strive to teach.

Teaching While Black

In the last article, "on the sidelines of history," Leila issued a challenge for Black History Month. One of her suggestions was to “read about a person during the civil rights movement that may not have gotten national attention.”Her challenge came on the heels of me listening to my new addiction: Malcolm Gladwell’s podcast, Revisionist History. I love stories and Gladwell has such an interesting delivery of stories and points of view that we may not have heard in the past.One, in particular, caught my ear. “Ms. Buchanon’s Period of Adjustment” is about school integration. Most people know about Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka. It, along with Plessy v. Ferguson, was the only court case I recall being taught in the Februarys of my school career (which is another story altogether but I digress).If you have an opportunity to read more specifics about the Brown case, you should. But for those who may need a quick reminder or crash course, Brown v. Board is the case that integrated the school system. Linda Brown, along with twenty other kids were taken to the nearest [white] neighborhood schools to register, knowing they would be turned away. They sued and the case went all the way to the Supreme Court where, in a unanimous decision, the “separate but equal” doctrine that supported segregation was deemed unconstitutional. As a result, schools were slowly desegregated across the South.Now I could go on so many tangents here because the characters and their roles, the wording of the decision, and the reasons behind this case and the decision are much more interesting than my space here will allow. But I want to call your attention to something I learned only while listening to this episode.It’s not about the students. It’s about the teachers. In an interview shared by Gladwell, an African-American teacher from the Brown era, Celestine Porter, said, “The first people that should have been integrated should have been the teachers and administration.”But that’s not what happened. Not only did they not focus on the teachers, they eliminated them altogether. What may not be widely known is the effect the case had on the black teaching community.A little less than 200 miles from Topeka is a town called Moberly, Missouri — Little Dixie as it’s been called. A year after the Brown decision, the black school in Moberly, Lincoln, was closed down and students were bussed to the white school, Sumner.What about the teachers?The school board, having closed the one black school with eleven teachers, determined that they now had a surplus of educators. Some of them needed to go. So they evaluated all teachers in the school district. And, wouldn’t you know it, all of the black teachers were fired due to poor performance. Despite their years of experiences, good standing, and previous high marks, all the black teachers, even the one with graduate degrees, were found to be inadequate. This happened all over the South as schools started to integrate. Those teachers who maintained their job suffered indignity after indignity.Taking their cue from Brown v. Board, the Moberly teachers sued the Board of education in the not-so-landmark case Naomi Brooks et al., Appellants, v. School District of City of Moberly, Missouri, Etc., et al. Unfortunately, after appeals, the Supreme Court declined to hear the case; so, the decision to terminate the teachers was upheld.Now, hundreds of black kids would be in classrooms without the familiarity of teachers who looked like them and with unknown teachers — some of whom fought to keep them out or found them to be beneath their teaching efforts.As Gladwell describes: Brown v. Board was the great victory; Moberly was the great defeat.Stories like this are good to hear. It reminds us that the civil rights movement was filled with wins and losses. And for me, it further solidifies my place in the fight. These were simply battles in a great war. And, the fact that I feel the need to maintain a blog like this indicates that the war is not over.The message I receive from the Moberly decision is, “Fine. We’ll integrate the school system. But we won’t integrate the education profession.” The great irony behind that is this: When you listen to Linda Brown’s mother talk about her decision to take part in this battle against segregation, you realize that she’s really only interested in having some control over her child’s education. She wanted the right to decide where to send her child and not have a segregated power system make that choice for her. But, with the integration of schools and the complete freeze out of educators of color, she, in effect ceded all control to the power system she sought to destroy.The case of the Moberly teachers also explains some of the issues we see today. According to the podcast, at the time of the Brown case, there were 82,000 black teachers. Over the next decade, as schools were desegregated, over half were fired. And even though this Washington Post article claims that the number of minority teachers has more than doubled since the late 80s while white teachers saw a decline, white teachers still make up 83% of the teaching force in the United States. So one has to wonder: how much effect do the Brown v. Board and the subsequent case of the Moberly teachers have on that number.In Gladwell’s podcast, a portion of the termination letter written to a teacher of color just post the Brown v. Board decision. In it, the superintendent said that he “sympathize[d] with the uncertainties and realize[d] the inconvenience [they must be experiencing] during this period of adjustment.”So the question I’m left with is: How long is this period of adjustment supposed to be? And have we really adjusted?

on the sidelines of history

February is Black History Month and I can’t help but compare this climate of change to the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s.History books have taught us about different fragments of time that moved humanity into a path unlike the ones they were on; from colonization to the industrial revolution and the people who started those revolutions. Multiple wars have been fought. Generations later, the repercussion of what was lost and won can be seen in statues of soldiers still visited or protested against. Replicas and flags serve as painful reminders of a past history seems to have forgotten.Or perhaps, it is us who have forgotten our history. I turn on the television and see marches, and wonder what it is we are marching for this time. I see black ribbons pinned on lapels of men and women dressed in haute couture, and wonder if they truly understand what that pin represents to someone still being silenced?In a few years’ time, what will history write about our generation? What could it say about this climate of social change and growing restlessness?My response, sadly, is that while we have members of our peers joining resistant marches and shouting loud and proud about these movements, the rest of us have grown apathetic to these tactics. The rest of us wonder who, again, will be “outed” for indecency or deviant sexual conducts. The rest of us wonder what this hashtag means to someone like me who may not have experienced firsthand what abuse and harassment looks like. The rest of us wonder what a pin is supposed to do or resemble. The rest of us sit idly by and wait for the next wave of anger and shouts that seem to be coming closer and louder.I see the same determined and tired faces of today, as those who took part in marches back in the 1960s. I can hear — and almost feel — the same anger, the same resolve and passion from those who are shouting today as if they echo from decades prior. And most importantly, I see in the background of those black and white stills, images of people who are just walking by, either ignoring the protestors around them, or hanging their heads and rushing, so as not to be “lumped” into the same categories.I know these faces because they are of me. The same empty glance, the same neutral expression and thought that life will still be the same for me and whomever history deems as the victor. It is this realization that saddens and frightens me because it is people like me who choose to not take sides, choose to go about their daily routines while people are getting shot and killed. We are the ones that society warns about: the silent ones who know what is happening, but choose to do nothing and let the atrocities that history wrote about continue.But there is hope for those of us in the sidelines. We can choose to befriend a neighbor who looks and thinks differently than us. We can find room on our bookshelf for books that offer different points of view and firsthand accounts on the era that changed our society’s landscape but few seem to have remembered why.We can find out why we celebrate Black History Month, who we are honoring, and who we are ensuring that we remember. And let’s take that one step further and find more names to the list that we have forgotten about.There are stories of bravery that history books won’t tell. I think this is why I enjoyed reading Echoes of the Struggle by Janelle Gray. As her characters go on a Civil Rights Pilgrimage Tour, I go with them and, in my mind’s eye, follow along the paths that are well traveled and written into our grade school textbooks. But I also get to visit sites that aren’t mentioned. I get to read the names of people that history hasn’t mentioned but whose lives changed those around them.So here are a few challenges to you: read about a person during the civil rights movement that may not have gotten some national attention but were prominent in their own town’s metamorphous. Ask yourself if there is a passion that you would march for, root for, and do what you could do to make change happen. And finally, stop sitting on the sidelines and make a stand for whatever it is that you feel compelled to change. After all, it takes one person to make a difference.To keep up with Leila, follow here on Facebook here and go to her website at www.leilatualla.com.

Navigating the N-Word

In 2001, the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) held what looked to be a parade. Hundreds of people crowded the streets, marching in unison. It was later discovered that a few men were carrying a coffin in the parade. To my surprise, this wasn’t a funeral at all, but rather a symbolic event held in the attempt to bury not a person — but a word. They were going to bury the word “nigger”. Or was it ”nigga”?When you take time and reflect on American history, it’s pretty obvious why “nigga” is one of the most researched and debated words with regards to African-American vernacular. It’s quite polarizing. On the one hand, you have those who feel like the word, which was originally created to dehumanize blacks, has ultimately changed in meaning to become a term of endearment among black folk only. On the other hand, you have those who feel like the word should be eradicated completed.Well, after reading Navigating the ‘N’ word: How Keeping Niggas Alive is Killing Black Folk, I understand which side the author Brady Goodwin Jr has taken. Let’s start with the “term of endearment” argument. This argument bases its stance on the fact that black folks have now taken ownership of the word while simultaneously telling white folks that they can’t say “nigger”. According to Goodwin, it is not possible to simply take such a hateful word and flip it to mean something else because the word itself was never created to carry out that meaning. He compares this semantic pattern of altering the negative meaning into a positive to the crucifix. The crucifix an iconic symbol because we Christians believe that Jesus was resurrected from the grave and is no longer dead upon the cross. This cross is a symbol of our salvation, our Savior, and our Risen King. It’s a symbol of triumph. The word “nigga”, though used affectionately, cannot be used as an example of victory because that word still oppresses its users (by “users” I mean black folk).He also makes the argument that the usage of the word “nigga” reinforces the same dehumanizing intent that the word “nigger” was originally created to do. The use of the word “nigga” as a term of endearment, for example, “That’s my nigga, right there,” is just one of its three main uses.While the term of endearment is called the “dependable nigga,” there are also “the expendable nigga” and “the exceptional nigga”. “The expendable nigga” is used in reference to a John Doe: people who are regarded with no name or identity outside of their skin color. “The exceptional nigga” is almost the complete opposite. It functions as someone who is upper echelon — the top dog.Linguistically, I don’t see how this word can be eradicated — especially when it was originally created by a large group of racist white folk who believed in this construct and gave it power. Secondly, as mentioned before, this word has too many functions within black vernacular to be singled out as one word and one meaning.Furthermore, this word is deeply rooted in hip-hop. I mean, listen to “Story of OJ” from Jay-Z’s 4:44 album. Here you have an exceptional black man who was very successful and rich yet he didn’t want to be considered black. He wanted to be seen as just a man — Just OJ. That’s cool and all; but what about the rest of the world’s perception of you? What about BLACK folk’s perception of you? What Jay Z was highlighting in his chorus was that, in addition to the racial hierarchy in America, there is a hierarchy amongst black folks. Yes, you can be rich and live in a more affluent white society, but you’re still in the lowest part of the racial hierarchy with the rest of us niggas. And here you have a clear example of the word being used to oppress its users.Now, I can understand how this word has the potential to keep black folk in a lower caste. But I feel as though this book is putting too much emphasis on how we use the word instead of collecting ethnographic data that captures what black people listen to, how they self-identify, what percentage actually uses the word on a consistent basis, and with whom they use it. And regarding race relations, simply not using the word “nigger” is a defense that a lot of white folks use to justify them not being racist — “I don’t call black people “niggers”, therefore, I am not and cannot be racist.” Nah doc. That’s not how it works.Look, if you’re black in America, then you’ve probably felt the venomous sting of that word at some point. My eldest brother still remembers being called a “nigger” for the first time. It cut deep and even as a kid he felt the damaging weight of such a word. But that’s still not the same as hearing it from someone who looks like you.At the end of the day, there’s no clear answer here. But I think James Baldwin said it best when he said the following:“What you were describing and what you were afraid of (was) not me. YOU invented it. It had to be something you were afraid of (and) you invested me with. If I am not the nigger, and if it is true that your invention reveals you. Then who is the nigger? I give you your word problem back. You’re the nigger, baby. It’s not me.”Check out Justin Willis’ v-log about this book and others on his YouTube channel “The Black Curriculum”

The Apology

First, let me say I started writing this article after the Dove ad scandal. (Can you call it a scandal?) It's important that I highlight that because I'm only publishing it now after the H&M scandal. I waited because I knew there would be another time that this article would be relevant.Why? Because of Dove, Pepsi, Nivea. Ugh…the list could continue. H&M is just the new verse in the same song. And I gotta say: I'm not mad about it. I'm kind of "eh" about it. And that's simply because now I'm expecting it.If we're being honest, these are not the first advertisements that have disregarded, disrespected, undermined, or failed to consider people of color. Ads are significantly more inclusive than they were even a decade ago. So why is this a big deal?I hear so many responses to the calls for boycotts. "People are never satisfied. The companies push for diversity, make political statements, embrace inclusivity, or encourage body positivity; and, it's still wrong." Or "The problem is that we're too politically correct. We care too much about how other people feel and what other people think."And you know what? Yes to all of that. The reality is there will never be a time where everyone is happy. It's likely that someone will be offended. So often, we are so concerned with stepping in it that we neglect to step at all. But you gotta ask: If we're always stepping on someone's toes and generally the someone is underrepresented, disenfranchised, and/or disrespected in the mediums in question, can we really claim to care too much? Or is this a case of chronic not caring for so many decades that our caring keeps "missing the mark"?I had many friends who were up in arms about H&M's recent ad with the brown boy sporting a sweatshirt with the words "coolest monkey in the jungle." The picture of his white counterpart with a sweatshirt saying, "survival expert" was posted next to it and floated around my timeline with loads of critique.On the flip side, I had friends that were so over seeing the ads and thought that people were too up in arms. We, the often misrepresented, definitely don't agree. There is no hive mind when it comes to discrimination and how and when to fight it. There is no general agreed upon consensus on who is mainly to be held accountable.I wonder, is it the responsibility of corporations to consider these things? Obviously, from a capital standpoint, it's smart to consider your audience. But what social responsibility should they have? I haven't spent much time determining what I think are the answers to those questions. And maybe I should.But what I will say is what bothers me most is the apology. I'm so disillusioned sometimes that I don't even want any more apologies. And it all comes down to the fact that I know what they're going to say. You can almost copy/paste the words."We're sorry." "Diversity." "Inclusion." "Missed the mark." "Mistake." "Not reflective." "Sincerely apologize."It's so much like a broken record that I'm starting to question if it really is a mistake. Not to be too conspiracy theorist here, but I'm starting to feel like most companies are uncaring about the images they put out until they're called on it.Yes, it could be an innocent oversight. But if you truly are considering and acknowledging your potential clients, you're considering the issues they face. You're in tune with social and political needs in addition to their commercial needs. There is no ad company that sells to an audience without research.The first time you apologize, fine. Do better. But the second, third, fourth? Keep the apology. At this point, you're just kicking the ant pile and claiming you didn't know it was there.And let's be honest, with pictures of Former President and First Lady Obama depicted as monkeys with insulting captions (let alone all the historical propaganda referring to black people as monkeys), I'm calling BS that you didn't know any reference of the same was offensive, H&M. And Nivea, with white supremacists constantly yelling about maintaining the pure race, I'm side-eyeing your "White is purity" ad. And Pepsi, after that much publicized the photo of Ieshia Evans approaching the SWAT line, I'm questioning your direction.I'm not saying the ads were intentional. But I am saying someone didn't care enough to research. I could question the diversity in the boardroom. I could wonder out loud about the people of color in your company who could have given perspective. I could inquire about the test groups used with products and ads, but that may take another article.For now, I'll just offer to put together a multi-ethnic, multiracial group that provides a service that allows you to "ask a person of color." Because right now, your apology is landing about like your tone-deaf ads: flat and insulting.

#TimesUp

In 2017, a number of high-powered men were fired after allegations of sexual harassment and sexual misconduct were brought to light. The #MeToo movement swept the internet. It created a wave of awareness regarding sexual harassment and assault. The silence breakers were named Time Magazine’s Person of the Year. Women and men alike came forward to share their stories, some for the first time in 10, 20, 30+ years. The hashtag trended in over 85 countries and netted millions of tweets.The movement has brought up a myriad of questions, such as are we holding sexual predators responsible for their actions? How are we treating people who come forward with their stories of sexual abuse? What does the uptick in this movement say about the prevalence of sexual assault?This movement isn’t ending in 2017. Women are still coming forward. At the 2018 Golden Globes, women such as Gal Gadot, Reese Witherspoon, Tracy Ellis Ross, Kerry Washington and others donned black attire as an anti-harassment protest in support of women both in the entertainment business and beyond.This movement has made me feel comfortable and unashamed to share my story, although anonymously, for the first time in a public forum. I, too, am a victim of sexual assault. A man I considered to be a friend drugged and raped me after a night of karaoke. I don’t remember all of the events that transpired that night. It’s fuzzy and there are large portions of time that are missing; but, I do remember some very traumatizing moments such as him using the neck of a beer bottle to rape me saying “trash deserves trash.”What happened to me does not define me. If anything, it has made me stronger than I ever imagined possible.At the turn of the New Year, over 300 women in Hollywood announced the formation of Time’s Up, which is a combined effort to combat sexism at its foundation through legal recourse.Reese Witherspoon said, “We have been siloed off from each other. We’re finally hearing each other, and seeing each other, and now locking arms in solidarity with each other, and in solidarity for every woman who doesn’t feel seen, to be finally heard.”Time’s Up has shared a list of things we can all do to be part of the solution.Don’t be part of the problem. For starters, don’t harass anyone.If a person who has been harassed tells you about it, believe them. Don’t underestimate how hard it is to talk about these things.If you know someone who has been harassed, connect them to resources that can help, such as the ones found on their website.If you are a witness or bystander and see a harassing situation, help the person being harassed. You could actually intervene. You could confront the harasser. You could also help the person get out of the harassing situation. If you cannot do any of these things, you can still support the harassed person by corroborating and confirming the account of what happened.You can support those affected by sexual harassment by donating to the TIME’S UP Legal Defense Fund.If you are part of an organization, look at the workforce and the leadership (management, officers, board of directors). Does it reflect the market where you operate and the world we live in? If not, ask why not and do something to move it closer to that goal.Acknowledge that talent is equally distributed but work and career opportunities are not. Mentor someone from an under-represented group in your industry. If you are in a position to do so, hire someone who can diversify the perspectives included in your organization. Your team will be better and stronger for it.You can vote with your wallet: in your purchasing, in your investing and in your charitable giving. Spend or give to companies and organizations who have more equitable leadership and opportunities for all.I will continue to stand up and fight against sexual assault and harassment. Will you join me in telling those who harass and take advantage of others that their #TimesUp?

Murder By Ignorance

We all know the problems. Discrimination. Inequality. Racism. Prejudice.Really, pick a word. It’s hard to turn on the news and not see these through the news stories. Whether it’s a politician saying he should be able to grab a woman’s breasts/nipples if she has them out to breastfeed, the near lynching of a 8-year-old boy (yea, in 2017) or any accusations hurled on many DREAMERS, it’s all over the place.But still, there are those who continue to say things like, “White people don’t do that,” or “Police officers don’t do that,” or “That was a long time ago,” or even “Oh my God it was a joke. You take things too seriously.”I often complain about people using their yardsticks to measure me. How many times have I heard, “Black people don’t travel.” Um, Hi. I live in Colombia. “Women don’t do that.” Yea, hey. I picked up and moved to a country sight unseen, with no job, and made a life here.You see, it’s all about your language. “Some white people don’t do that”; “Many police officers don’t do that.” (Yea I got nothing else for the other two statements because it wasn’t a long time ago and the jokes aren’t funny)In actuality, the problem isn’t inequality; it’s ignorance. The problem is people don’t, or refuse, to see that discrimination exists. Despite the videos, the statistics, the tiki-torch bearing SOBs who wear shirts saying “Only White Lives Matter,” the news and the people themselves who actually admit their hate, people still say, “that doesn’t happen.” Then they parade the few brown faces that agree, as if they are the rule and the other thousands of faces are merely an exception or conspiracy theorists.Here’s the thing: If a hundred people are yelling fire and five people are like, “Nah, there ain’t no fire,” who will you believe?If your answer is the few, I really don’t know where to go from here with you.But if you answered the majority, why is this different? Our houses are on fire. They’ve been on fire. But we’ve gotten so used the heat, some of us stopped talking about it. And some people thought it went away.But that time is over. We are burning. We are dying. We are suffocating.Our streets are flooded with blood and pain and hopelessness. We are the victims of ignorance.Not long after “Black Lives Matter” came out, “All Lives Matter” showed up. And then “Blue Lives Matter.” And I wondered, how can they see police being unfairly judged and targeted but not the brown bodies that keep flying over their newscasts.And the answer is simple: They don’t want to. They choose not to. It’s this ignorance that is murdering us. It’s this willful and defiant lack of empathy that allows police brutality and excessive force. It amazes me that people can say, “Not all police are bad,” but can’t admit, “Not all (perceived) criminals deserve to be gunned down in the streets.”Ignoring the problem, refusing to hear the other side, coloring everyone with the same brush, makes the problem bigger. Just because you’re not racist, doesn’t mean there aren’t racists. Just because you’re not a sexist (I’m watching my language) doesn’t mean that other person isn’t.By denying their fallacies, and highlighting those of the victims, bigots are given an invisible cloak to wear because people refuse their existence. And that ignorance is what they hide behind.For those people who say, “You shouldn’t take a knee during the National Anthem,” for those who have yelled “All Lives Matter,” over the pleas for “Black Lives Matter,” for those who have said that our cries are overreactions or have shouted stats back at our numbers, I ask you: have you ever sat down with us to have this conversation? Not just read and “liked” a meme; not just posted an article with your dissenting opinion above it. But have you sat down with an open heart (that’s the key) and said, “Why do you feel this way?”And before you deflect by posing that same question to me, yes. We have. The evidence is that you can still ignore it. The evidence is that only now are confederate statues being taken down. The evidence is only recently has there been a Women’s March. The evidence is the creation of “All Lives Matter” as a statement and not a movement. Yes, we’ve heard you. For centuries, we’ve heard. But we are no longer accepting being murdered by your ignorance. Wake up.

A Mexipino Christmas

To say holidays are stressful on everybody is an understatement. It seems like our blood pressure rises just a little bit on what is supposed to be the “most wonderful time of the year.”Personally, I love Christmas but logistically it can make my pressure rise a tad. My lovely family is a blend of two cultures. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your taste preference that means I have two of everything. Two different ways to celebrate the holidays.In the Philippines, Christmas celebrations begin September the 1st! I am that person that plays Christmas music on November 1st and will have our tree up, decorated, lit and even completed with wrapped gifts before the rest of the world thinks about what to put on their Thanksgiving menu.Side note, my toddler has made it difficult to try to be Buddy from Elf this year, much to the delight of my husband.I remember growing up in the Philippines and doing the traditional ‘namamasko.’ There’s absolutely no English translation for this phrase because it encompasses so much; caroling, going door to door celebrating with your family, friends and neighbors. It’s like a big party that celebrates not just Christ’s birth but love, giving and family.When I moved to Texas, imagine my disappointed heart to hear that people don’t do those things here. There are no carolers or block parties. People retreat to their homes decked out only for other family members, or their Instagram/Facebook followers to see.While my dreams of caroling ended when I was nine, I still get to keep some traditions, namely food.Pancit, or rice noodles, is served no matter what holiday we’re celebrating; so are white rice and eggrolls. My mom is still in charge of making dinner, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to help and ensure that our family recipes get passed down. She’ll make putos, which is a rice muffin. Depending on how much your family wants to “splurge,” there may or may not be lechon, roast pig, on the table at Christmas time. For the past few years, our main dish depends on what my American brother-in-law decides to cook and he usually serves deep fried Turkey every year. We do serve some American foods, like ham, macaroni and cheese and green bean casserole but mostly, our table is full of traditional Filipino dishes which I love since I don’t have them very often and always brings back childhood memories.We’re also Roman Catholics and as such, we go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve, then come home and open presents. This used to make Christmas Day very anticlimactic for me but for the past decade, we’ve been going on little sleep and driving to my husband’s Mexican side to celebrate our second Christmas and eat our second meal.As I have said before, logistically, it’s a mess. There have been some Christmas Eves that we’ve had to drive from one family festivity to another before making it to midnight mass. His family does the traditional posadas. I’ve searched my friend Google for this translation but it depends on each family’s tradition. On Christmas Eve, we go to someone’s house, say the rosary in front of the nativity and then baby Jesus is passed around for the faithful to kiss. A small bag of peanuts, trinkets and candy is passed out to everyone who attended.Afterwards, dinner is served. I have no idea where tamales is placed in order of importance in a Mexican household but this girl is grateful that every holiday, I get to eat tamales. Much like my mother, my mother-in-law, mi suegra, is the one in charge of dishes. She usually makes four different kinds of tamales: chicken, cheese, pork and cheese with jalapeno pepper. There will be arroz, or Mexican rice, frijoles, or beans. It’s also common knowledge that my husband, as the first born and only son in the family, is the favorite child. His mom prepares pozole, or chicken soup with hominy, during our holiday stay.This is a pretty gluttonous time of the year for us and I’m glad that my children get to grow up in such diverse environment. No matter what is served on our tables, how much or how little they appreciate it or now, I am grateful that both families embrace the loud, chaotic messes of their culture.But let’s be honest here, every day is loud and chaotic for this Mexipino household. We just eat a lot more during the holidays.

Holidays in the Melting Pot

It's long been said that the good old U.S. of A. is the great melting pot of the world. It's definitely an optimistic view at best. But maybe that's because we've never taken the time to ask questions about our neighbors and the reasons behind their customs.Some of The Echoes Blog subscribers and contributors have offered a quick guide to how their family celebrates their very own unique blend of Americanism and their family's culture. Enjoy. And maybe incorporate some in your own traditions. Reggae AnwisyeKwanzaa is celebrated by people of the African diaspora including African-Americans in the United States. For our family, celebrating Kwanzaa has become a week of positive inspection and introspection around how we intend to meaningfully participate in building a stronger African (Black) community. During the Kwanzaa season, there are seven principles we celebrate: Umoja (unity), Kujichagulia (Self-Determination), Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility), Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics), Nia (Purpose), Kuumba (Creativity), and Imani (Faith).For most of the nights of Kwanzaa, we light our candles at home, taking time to talk about the meaning of the principle for the day and how we see ourselves enacting that personally and collectively. We make sure to attend one or two community celebrations during the week which allows us to commune with others and create bridges for growth in the community. At these events, we find friends, Black-owned businesses and Black entrepreneurs to support, and community leaders or ideas around which we can collectively rally our efforts. Lastly, we endeavor to host a family party on one of the days which really just allows our family a special time to eat together, to enjoy each other’s company, and to affirm our love for one another. We really try to make Kwanzaa a time for the growth of ideas and practices. We try very much to resist the commercialization and materialism that marks this time of year.Emelia Cedercreutz - FinlandOur Christmas celebration has stayed much in tact, with everything centering on the 24th. At noon we eat a rice porridge for lunch, with cinnamon and sugar. There is always an almond hidden in the porridge, and whoever gets the almond supposedly gets married the incoming year. That it is at noon, is probably because traditionally, an the city of Turku would announce "The Christmas Peace." This has been done since the 1300s, and in the early days, meant increased penalties for murder and other crime during the Christmas season. In modernity, it is simply a reminder, a sort of official start-announcement and a reminder to be peaceful in and out."The food we eat has not really changed. We eat casseroles of root vegetables. Rootabaga casserole, potato casserole, carrot casserole. The salad is made of beets, apples, onion, boiled eggs, potatoes, and carrots. The desert is a prune pudding with whipped cream. Basically, all the fruits and vegetables that would have been available in Finland, in the middle of winter, before imported vegetables. This food is only eaten on Christmas, so the taste-feeling relationship is very strong.Leila Tualla Martinez - PhillipinesPancit, or rice noodles, is served no matter what holiday we’re celebrating; so are white rice and eggrolls. My mom is still in charge of making dinner, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to help and ensure that our family recipes get passed down. She’ll make putos, which is a rice muffin. Depending on how much your family wants to “splurge,” there may or may not be lechon, roast pig, on the table at Christmas time. For the past few years, our main dish depends on what my American brother-in-law decides to cook and he usually serves deep fried Turkey every year. We do serve some American foods, like ham, macaroni and cheese and green bean casserole but mostly, our table is full of traditional Filipino dishes which I love since I don’t have them very often and always brings back childhood memories. Antoine Spruiel - JamaicaDuring Christmas, it’s usually a time for us to get together and spend time with one another. We don’t exchange gifts or anything of that nature. My family occasionally has a small dinner on the 25th of December. The dinner is usually Jamaican/American inspired dinner that includes lots dishes that are typical for both nations. We usually watch television and just spend time together. We have never been people to participate in black Friday sales or exchange expensive gifts. The main purpose for Christmas for us is to spend time together.Ashley Harris - PanamaGrowing up, my grandmother worked to blend our Afro-Panamanian culture with our American up bringing. Our typical American holiday dinner had many Panamanian staples as well. For instance, we had arroz con pollo rather than chicken and dressing, and there would always be an friend plantains and a fresh basket of bakes, which are similar to fried biscuits. Lastly there would be a huge pot of souse, which is a pickled pig feet recipe, which would always confuse my American friends. Other traditions that we had, was that our tree had to remain up until January 6th for "Dia de Los Tres Magos" or Three Kings Day, in honor of the Wise Men bringing gifts to Baby Jesus. We would typically give one small gift again on this day, which was candies or baked goods.