The Impact of School Reopening Plans on Women

Illustration by Nat Thomas for St. Louis Public Radio.

BY: SOPHIE LOVERING, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

The COVID-19 pandemic has affected the world unlike any other phenomena; every day we see people and businesses making difficult decisions, trying to balance financial sustainability with health. One decision that must be made as we approach the end of the summer is how education will take place in the fall. In my younger brother’s school district, the Board of Education initially discussed using all public schools to educate elementary school-aged children in-person, and virtually educating older children who could stay at home alone. Following outrage in response to this idea, the Board of Education eventually decided to delay all in-person activities until at least January of 2021, at which time the situation will be re-assessed.

Personally, I have not come to a definitive opinion on the “best” fall plan. Children are at a lesser risk in this pandemic, and I believe that early education is critical to long-term development and mental health. However I also recognize that normal in-person education would put teachers and other school staff members at risk, especially in lower grades where children would struggle wearing masks correctly.

Although I have not yet come to a conclusion about the best fall plan, I think it is important to consider all aspects of the issue. Gender and gender bias must be taken into consideration in answering the fall reopening question. Societally, women often face the brunt of childcare. They are recognized as homemakers and not breadwinners. Should schools close this fall, many families will need near constant childcare. This responsibility will likely fall to mothers, given established societal expectations. Even without these expectations, women may differentially suffer from the increased burden of childcare. Because of the gender wage-gap, in two-parent families with a mother and a father, the mother is likely to have a lower income, and therefore it would make financial sense for the mother to become the main provider of childcare. Additionally, single fathers are far less common than single mothers [1]; families with only one adult member will struggle to balance childcare with income, and this struggle will differentially and negatively impact women. Opening schools will also present unique challenges for women. There are significantly more women that teach than men, so women will face a disproportionately higher risk with in-person education. 

It is critical to analyze all spheres of life in approaching this pandemic. Each day we neglect to follow social distancing guidelines is another day that we delay a return to normal life. This fall, students will face the consequences of our continued carelessness. There is not necessarily one correct answer to reopening schools this fall, and it will likely be a personal decision whether or not to attend school. However, it is important to acknowledge that whatever decision we make will likely differentially impact women, as they already face societal and financial discrimination. We must consider and manage all aspects of health, including the physical and mental health of children, teachers, and parents.

References 

[1] Livingston, Gretchen. “The Rise of Single Fathers.” Pew Research Center. July 2, 2013. https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2013/07/02/the-rise-of-single-fathers/.

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Sophie Lovering is a rising junior at the University of Pennsylvania majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics (PPE) and minoring in American Sign Language and Deaf Studies. She is involved in the Penn Undergraduate Law Journal, Penn Special Olympics, Penn's Beyond Arrests: Re-Thinking Systematic Oppression, and Penn Women's Rowing. She is interested in criminal justice reform and social justice advocacy.

Imposter Syndrome: Who Does It Affect?

Photo by UnderPinned.

BY: Juliet Schulman-Hall, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

Growing up, everyone has feelings of inadequacy. In quarantine this may be accentuated, with more competition for jobs and internships, limited face-to-face social interaction, and increased consumption of social media. Interacting through social media, such as Instagram, can make things worse, as social media often presents unrealistic highlights and high points of one's life. In reality, nearly every person struggles with feelings of inadequacy and some form of imposter syndrome. 

Imposter syndrome is the “idea that you’ve only succeeded due to luck, and not because of your talent or qualifications” [1]. This term was coined by two female psychologists named Pauline Rose Clance and Suzanne Imes in 1978. They theorized that only women were affected by this syndrome, however, since then, research has disproved this claim. Even still, prior to researching imposter syndrome, when I discussed the syndrome with a small group of friends, all of us had thought that women suffered more from imposter syndrome than men. In reality, this may have been more of a commentary on how society forms and distorts one’s own perceptions of reality. Men are characteristically seen as less emotional and are socialized not to speak as often about their insecurities. Women, who are characterized as more emotional, find it easier to discuss their insecurities and may do so with more freedom. 

To better understand the ways in which imposter syndrome may or may not affect different groups of people, I crafted a survey that asked how often one feels inadequate, why they think this way, and so forth, which I presented to sixteen people. The results were surprising in that everyone had relatively the same insecurities, regardless of multiple external factors, including sex, race, and school attended. It is important to note that this was a small sample size of sixteen college students with nine of the people identifying as female. However, as I will highlight later, the results of this survey were consistent with many of the general conclusions about imposter syndrome arrived at by other, more established research that relied on larger and more sophisticated sample sizes and methodologies.  

The general conclusion from this survey is that people tend to have feelings of inadequacy one to three times times a week. This is consistent across gender, race, and kind of college (ie. historically women’s, co-ed, etc.). An intriguing note is that all of the men who responded wrote nothing or little in response to why they felt inadequate, perhaps tying to the societal expectation that men aren’t supposed to discuss their feelings. There were two major reasons as to why the participants feel insecure. The first is that the individuals do not feel smart enough, despite being at a top school. Individuals noted that they feel as though they shouldn’t be at their college. The second is insecurities about one's body—this was a recurring answer for women and those who are genderfluid. Body image is difficult to deal with as social media reinforces what a ‘perfect body’ is supposed to look like. All insecurities mentioned in the quiz stem from comparing oneself to others. 

As evidenced by academic studies that I viewed, and as reinforced by the results I found, there are small differences between the way in which men versus women experience insecurities and portray them. However, it is important to note that everyone “doubt[s] their abilities and ha[s] a persistent fear of being exposed as a fraud” [2]. This is something that society reinforces in a multitude of ways. Insecurities are a part of human nature, however, as one study points out, one needs to learn and have “the confidence and/or courage to embrace vulnerability” [3]. What one shows others is often not what is happening in one’s life. Social media influencers have begun to display this through the multitude of photos they take as well as noting their insecurities during the photoshoot. This is a great start in demonstrating that life is imperfect and it is unrealistic to expect to achieve perfection—a movement that should be extended past social media and into the real world.

References

[1] Abrams, Abigail. “Yes, Impostor Syndrome Is Real: Here's How to Deal With It.” Time. Time, June 20, 2018. https://time.com/5312483/how-to-deal-with-impostor-syndrome/.

[2] Nedegaard, Randall. 2016. “Overcoming Imposter Syndrome: How My Students Trained Me to Teach Them.” Reflections: Narratives of Professional Helping 22 (4): 52–59. http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=sxi&AN=126936993&site=eds-live&scope=site.

[3] Cowie, Megan, Logan Nealis, Simon Sherry, Paul Hewitt, and Gordon Flett. Perfectionism and academic difficulties in graduate students: Testing incremental prediction and gender moderation, November 23, 2017. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.paid.2017.11.027.

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Juliet Schulman-Hall is a rising junior at Smith College majoring in English Language & Literature, minoring in Sociology, and concentrating in Poetry. At Smith, she is involved in Emulate Magazine, the club volleyball team, and the Sophian Newspaper. She is passionate about criminal justice reform and animal rights and advocacy and is the Communications Lead for an animal nonprofit called Global Strays. 

American Abortion Access in the Time of a Pandemic

Photograph by Glenna Gordon for CNN.

BY: SOPHIE LOVERING, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

About one quarter of all American women will use abortion services by the age of 45 [1]. Access to safe abortions is a human right; the ability to determine whether and when to have a child has significant implications for the economic, social, and political equality of women [1]. Despite its essential nature, the right to receive an abortion has faced new restrictions in the age of COVID-19.

Many individuals are arguing to end abortion services during the pandemic, but these arguments do not stem from the desire for safety. Rather, they serve as a continuation of the long-standing debate concerning the morality of abortion. According to Reproductive BioMedicine Online, some argue that reproductive healthcare services interfere with hospital resources that should instead be going to COVID-19 patients in critical condition [2]. Others argue that providing reproductive healthcare services is not consistent with social distancing [2]. Both of these arguments are misguided. Most reproductive healthcare occurs in an “ambulatory setting,” and thus does not take away from the care of hospitalized COVID-19 patients [2]. Delaying reproductive healthcare might actually increase the demand for hospital resources, as pregnancies resulting in termination at later stages face significantly higher risks of complications [2]. Additionally, reproductive healthcare settings are taking steps to mitigate the risk of contagion by offering telemedicine, enhanced hygiene protocols, and infection screening prior to appointments [2]. Like all medical environments, practices providing reproductive healthcare are effectively minimizing the risk of infection and ensuring maximum possible social distancing [2]. These truths have not prevented the restriction of abortion access, however. Governors in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Oklahoma have supported the cessation of both medication and surgical abortion, using a much more insidious argument: that abortion procedures are “elective” or “nonessential” [1].

The restriction of abortion care is always negative, but is particularly dangerous during this pandemic. The classification of abortions as “elective” suggests that women’s equality and autonomy is expendable [1]. It also implicitly questions a woman’s judgement to make decisions concerning her own body. In medicine, an “elective procedure” is one that can be delayed without consequences [1]. Considering the increasing risks associated with delaying abortion, and maximum limits on the gestational age at which an abortion may be performed legally, abortion is in no way “elective,” and classifying it as such will mean that “many women will be unable to obtain an abortion at all” [1]. During the COVID-19 pandemic, this might mean that families will face the undue financial burden of an additional child, or that women will face an unplanned pregnancy resulting from intimate partner violence, which has increased as a result of quarantine orders [1]. 

Restricted access to abortion care is particularly harmful to women of color. Many women of color already experience limited access to abortion [3]. Women of color face income inequality, which means that they are more likely to be covered by Medicaid and in turn impacted by the Hyde Amendment, which bands federal funds for abortion care in Medicaid [3]. Women of color also face explicit racism; anti-choice organizations have targeted Black and Latina women with the false rhetoric that they devalue human life, even in the womb [3]. Restricting abortion access, which is already restricted to women of color, as a result of this pandemic, which also disproportionately impacts people of color, will significantly harm minority American populations.

We cannot sit idly by while women, and especially women of color, watch their rights fade away. Abortion is undeniably an essential healthcare service. Those who argue that the COVID-19 pandemic warrants restricted reproductive healthcare are either misguided or ill-intentioned. 

References

[1] Bayefsky, Michelle J., Deborah Bartz, and Katie L. Watson. “Abortion during the Covid-19 Pandemic—Ensuring Access to an Essential Health Service.” New England Journal of Medicine (2020): 382. Doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2008006. 

[2] Kushnir, Vitaly A., Banafsheh Kashani, and Eli Y. Adashi. “Reproductive healthcare during a pandemic: a New York state of mind.” Reproductive BioMedicine Online (2020). Doi: 10.1016/j.rbmo.2020.06.005. 

[3] Mhatre, Nikita. “Abortion Restrictions Hurt Women of Color.” National Partnership for Women and Families. April 25, 2019. https://www.nationalpartnership.org/our-impact/blog/general/abortion-restrictions-hurt-women-of-color.html.

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Sophie Lovering is a rising junior at the University of Pennsylvania majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics (PPE) and minoring in American Sign Language and Deaf Studies. She is involved in the Penn Undergraduate Law Journal, Penn Special Olympics, Penn's Beyond Arrests: Re-Thinking Systematic Oppression, and Penn Women's Rowing. She is interested in criminal justice reform and social justice advocacy.

Two Women on the LGBTQ+ Community and Representation

Photograph by Joshua Roberts from Bloomberg/Getty Images for Time Magazine.

BY: SOPHIE LOVERING, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

June is LGBTQ+ Pride Month. This month celebrates all of the progress made toward equality for members of the LGBTQ+ community, but also serves as a reminder of the prejudices that still exist. To honor the month, I created a survey for women within the LGBTQ+ community concerning representation. Two women, both who identify as bisexual, anonymously answered this survey. Woman one is 20 years old and defines her membership within the LGBTQ+ community as “bisexual.” Woman two is 21 years old and has known she is bisexual since sixth grade, but kept it to herself “until the LGBTQ+ community seemed to emerge around [her] toward the end of high school;” all of her romantic relationships have been heterosexual, so she has found it difficult to truly feel like a member of the LGBTQ+ community. 

When asked about representation in media, woman one discussed that there has been increasingly more LGBTQ+ representation, especially in television. Two bisexual characters that stood out to her were Petra from Jane the Virgin and Diaz from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. She believes that these two shows adequately represent the women and do not tokenize the female characters by “making their sexuality a huge plot point.” Woman one is correct that representation has increased; according to the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD), comedy is no longer the most LGBTQ+ inclusive genre [1]. Woman two discussed the other end of media representation, and wrote that “bisexual women are hyper-sexualised to [an] extent that is not seen with bisexual people of other genders.” Concerning other members of the LGBTQ+ community, woman two believes that media representation is very low, evidenced by the vast majority of commercials and advertisements that feature only straight, cisgender couples. Woman two is correct; according to GLAAD, only 12.8% of films released in 2017 contained LGBTQ+ characters [1]. Of these films, a majority featured only gay men, often excluding women from the narrative [1].

Concerning representation in politics, both women believe that there is much more work to be done. After discussing Kyrsten Sinema, United States Senator from Arizona, as the first openly bisexual Senator and as a role model, woman one argued that, despite marginal improvement, “a handful of elected officials doesn't nearly represent the LGBTQ+ community in actual American society.” She emphasized that, although it is great to see representation increasing, it is also important to see this change reflected in actual policies and legislation. Woman two agrees that representation is dismal: she wrote that female representation in politics is extremely low in comparison to women’s contribution to the general population, and that the representation of LGBTQ+ women in politics is “little to none.” Both women are correct; Power in Place recognizes that, at the current rate of progress, we will not achieve political gender parity for nearly 500 years. 

After asking the survey respondents about representation in media and politics, I asked them where they felt the most influential; I was curious to see if younger women within the LGBTQ+ community find that politics is a less welcoming atmosphere than other spheres of life. Woman one had to think about this question for a while. She came to the conclusion that she feels most influential among her peers because they “genuinely and constructively listen to [her] thoughts and [they are] able to engage in productive, intellectual conversations.” She has found that older adults are often overly confident that their views must be correct given their experience or arrogance, or both. Woman two wrote that she feels “the most influential in [her] closest circle of family and friends;” beyond this sphere, she does not feel like she could be very influential at all. 

I cannot speak for the survey respondents beyond their own responses, however I think it is critical to remember that what some may consider representation is in reality clouded by its actual impact on individuals. Descriptive representation does not necessarily translate into actual changes, and both the type and amount of representation affects individuals’ perceptions of their impact on their environments. 

References

[1] The Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation. “Overview of Findings.” 2018. https://www.glaad.org/sri/2018/overview.

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Sophie Lovering is a rising junior at the University of Pennsylvania majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics (PPE) and minoring in American Sign Language and Deaf Studies. She is involved in the Penn Undergraduate Law Journal, Penn Special Olympics, Penn's Beyond Arrests: Re-Thinking Systematic Oppression, and Penn Women's Rowing. She is interested in criminal justice reform and social justice advocacy.

No Environmental Justice, No Peace

BY: LYDIA WIENER, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

Millions across the globe have taken to the streets and opened their minds (and wallets) to combat the systemic racism that has historically plagued Black and Brown communities. Outraged, and rightfully so, over the wrongful deaths of George Floyd and the many before him while in police custody, protestors have championed the phrase “No Justice, No Peace,” indicating that unrest will not cease until Floyd’s killers are convicted and major police reform is made. The Black Lives Matter organization has spearheaded this movement by demanding police budgets be cut, demilitarized, and the resulting money be invested into marginalized communities. But police brutality is merely one symptom of foundational racism. The meta mantra “No Justice, No Peace” calls for environmental justice, education justice, economic justice, and everything in between.

The Environmental Protection Agency defines environmental justice as “the fair treatment and meaningful involvement of all people regardless of race, color, national origin, or income, with respect to the development, implementation, and enforcement of environmental laws, regulation, and policies,” calling into question the blatant environmental inequities faced by Black and Brown communities in the US and around the world since the colonial era [1]. Colonial discourse, canonized by Edward Said’s book Orientalism, framed white men and the Western world as the picture of progress, civility, and rationality, while people of color and the global East were framed as the barbaric, savage, primitive, “other” [2]. This mentality, paired with lingering sentiment from the 1800s movement to preserve American wilderness (which was largely a response to immigration and the emancipation of slaves), culminated in the Wilderness Act of 1964—a racially charged foundation to the “golden era” of environmental legislation. Section 2c of the Wilderness Act prescribed “a wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain,” turning wilderness into a racialized “purification machine” where Native American and Black communities were evicted from their residential lands [3].

These Black and Brown communities were relocated to vulnerable, degraded, and largely unwanted lands. Whether it be lands geographically predisposed to bear the forefront of climate burdens (think the Lower Ninth Ward during Hurricane Katrina), or lands that are riddled with calculated placements of locally unwanted land-uses such as landfills, superfund sites, and highways (think the Warren County PCB Landfill circa 1982), these Black and Brown communities face intensified health, economic, and development vulnerabilities not experienced by their white counterparts, reinforcing the historical cycle of disenfranchisement and oppression. 

It’s no wonder why the collective memories of Black communities hold ambivalent connections to wildlands. Prior to the civil rights movement, wildlands provided spaces for escaped slaves to develop medicinal practices with plants, perform spiritual practices, form resistance movements, and feed families, while also serving as grounds for rapes and beatings. Over time, this relationship only became more convoluted as imposed restrictions on historical and cultural lands encouraged an influx of wealthy, white visitors, skewing local understandings of sense of place associated with those spaces and causing many Blacks to feel alienated and unsafe. Just this past Memorial Day, white New York City resident Amy Cooper highlighted the manufactured doubts surrounding the place of the Black body in the natural space when she reported and threatened Christian Cooper, a Black birdwatcher and board member of the New York City Audubon Society, to the police. 

Carolyn Finney, an environmental justice scholar, author, and activist who has been targeted by unsettling racial perceptions herself, calls on predominantly white-led environmental organizations and academic institutions to “recognize that systemic racism exists on both the streets of our cities and inside our national parks” [4]. According to Finney, there needs to be “full representation at every level in the environmental sector,” including reparations for disproportionately impacted Black and Brown communities, to induce “fundamental, consequential, and absolute change.”

The Black Lives Matter movement and activists like Finney are forcing whitewashed America to grapple with its place in building this racist and oppressive system, and pushing the environmental movement to reassess its mission as well. Within the last month, paramount climate change activism and advocacy groups such as the Natural Resources Defense Council, 350.org, and the Sierra Club have publicly pledged to support Black-led justice initiatives, build inclusive, multiracial climate coalitions, and divest from systems of white supremacy. During a Black-led 350.org webinar on dismantling racism in the climate movement, Executive Director of Minnesota 350, Sam Grant, implores listeners to “live at the intersection of abolition and ending climate apartheid” [5].

References

[1] OP US EPA, “Environmental Justice,” Collections and Lists, US EPA, November 3, 2014, https://www.epa.gov/environmentaljustice.

[2] Edward W. Said, Orientalism, 1st Vintage Books ed (New York: Vintage Books, 1979).

[3] Janae Davis, “Black Faces, Black Spaces: Rethinking African American Underrepresentation in Wildland Spaces and Outdoor Recreation:,” Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space, December 14, 2018, https://doi.org/10.1177/2514848618817480.

[4] Carolyn Finney, “The Perils of Being Black in Public: We Are All Christian Cooper and George Floyd | Race | The Guardian,” accessed June 15, 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jun/03/being-black-public-spaces-outdoors-perils-christian-cooper.

[5] “Pledge to Act in Defense of Black Lives,” 350.org, accessed June 15, 2020, https://350.org/in-defense-of-black-lives/.

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Lydia Wiener is a recent graduate of Middlebury College , where she majored in Environmental Policy and minored in Geography and African Studies. She is fascinated with the social, economic, and political nexus that underscores environmental issues, and is committed to creating equitable environmental change.

The Importance of Community: Reflecting on an Interview with City Councilwoman Yvonne Flowers

BY: KARA JENSEN, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

A few months ago, on a chilly February morning, I drove down to a small park on the banks of the Hudson River in downtown Poughkeepsie, New York. The photoshoot was taking place in Waryas Park at the John M. Flowers Circle, and we were there that day with John Flowers’ daughter, Poughkeepsie City Councilwoman Yvonne Flowers. I was fortunate enough to be able to interview Councilwoman Flowers—my first time ever interviewing someone—and the experience utterly transformed the way that I thought of local government and community power. In our current political climate, I feel as though it is more important than ever to recognize the importance of local officials in building safe and inclusive communities. 

Councilwoman Flowers’ father, John, was the one who initially inspired and pushed her to get into politics in the first place. Renowned and beloved throughout Poughkeepsie and the larger Dutchess County area, John Flowers lived his life with the conviction that just one person can make a huge difference in someone’s life, and it brought him immense joy to help others in the community. He passed this conviction on to his children, as he actively involved them in his annual Easter Egg Hunts in Waryas Park, Father’s Day Parades, gift giving to veterans, and countless other community strengthening efforts. 

During her time as a City Councilwoman, Yvonne Flowers has put her community first; emphasizing the importance of community spaces and sports programs for kids, all while carrying on her father’s legacy and expanding the number of eggs involved in the annual Easter Egg Hunts to the tens of thousands. Last summer she set up a free basketball program for the kids of Poughkeepsie, who loved it so much that they begged her to continue the program into the school year. Councilwoman Flowers is so passionate about her job and uses her position and energy to build up her community and invest in the well-being and futures of the children. Her passion really shone through in the interview and it was such a privilege to be able to meet and talk with her. 

I interviewed Councilwoman Flowers in February, at a time when COVID-19 was not yet ravaging the United States and the murder of George Floyd had not yet sparked national outrage and protests across the country and world. Thus, we were not able to discuss many of the issues that people have been actively considering in recent weeks. However, as so much of my conversation with Councilwoman Flowers was about her and her family’s commitment to their community, I can’t help but connect her efforts to lift up her community to the larger conversation that is now taking place. As the Black Lives Matter movement has resurged at the forefront of national attention, many protestors and BLM supporters are calling to “Defund the Police.” In essence, this a call to divest the exorbitant amount of money that goes to police departments and invest instead directly into communities and essential services that have been largely neglected such as mental health care, housing, and education [1]. Many proponents of defunding the police want to dismantle law enforcement as we know it and instead invest in community approaches to create safer and more unified communities. I know that this is a huge issue and cannot be encompassed in just a few sentences, but I think the focus on investing resources into communities and ensuring that children have the freedom to join a basketball program and grow up safely is immensely important. 

Reference

[1] Andrew, Scottie. “There's a Growing Call to Defund the Police. Here's What It Means.” CNN. Cable News Network, June 16, 2020. https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/06/us/what-is-defund-police-trnd/index.html.

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Kara Jensen is a rising junior at Vassar College majoring in International Studies and minoring in Hispanic Studies and English. She is involved in the Vassar Alliance of Women in Foreign Affairs, Project Period, and is the Social Coordinator for her Disney-themed a cappella group. She is interested in international development, foreign policy, and human rights.

Drug Laws, Racism, and Women

Illustration by Vidushi Yadav for the Association for Women’s Rights in Development.

BY: SOPHIE LOVERING, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

Black Americans account for 30 percent of all drug-related arrests, even though only 12.5 percent of substance users are black [1]. Black and white Americans use substances at equal rates; however, black Americans are about six times more likely to be incarcerated for drug-related offenses than their white peers [1]. In court, prosecutors are twice as likely to pursue mandatory minimum sentences for black defendants than white defendants, and black defendants are less likely to evade these mandatory minimums [1]. 

In 1971, President Richard Nixon established the war on drugs, which in turn increased sentencing and enforcement actions for low-level drug offenses [1]. 15 years after Nixon’s presidency, Congress passed the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986, establishing mandatory minimum sentencing for drug-related offenses [2]. The increased criminalization of substance use tied with increased drug law enforcement led to the American phenomenon of mass incarceration. Since 1980, the number of American arrests for drug possession has tripled and today one-fifth of the prison population is serving time for a drug-related offense [1]. 

This mass incarceration has differentially impacted black Americans. The Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986 included sentences for offenses involving crack cocaine, used more commonly by black Americans, that were one hundred times more severe than sentences for offenses involving the equally dangerous powder cocaine, used more often by white Americans [2]. As aforementioned, prosecutors are more likely to seek the mandatory minimum sentence for a black defendant than a white defendant even when the defendants are charged with the same crime [3]. 

Often, the criminal justice reform narrative has centered on men. It is also important to recognize how the war on drugs has affected women, and specifically women of color. Since the war on drugs and subsequent tough on crime initiatives, the number of female inmates in the United States has increased by 646 percent, which is nearly double the rate for men [4]. In 1988, Congress amended the Anti-Drug Abuse Act and applied mandatory minimum sentences to any member of a drug trafficking conspiracy; this includes activities such as “living where drugs are sold, being present during a drug sale, or counting money” [4]. Considering not only that women are expected to contribute to the household but also that women often remain in relationships with men involved with drugs because of fear of assault, women are frequently at a heightened and unfair risk of incarceration [4]. 

Black women are almost twice as likely as white women to be incarcerated for drug-related offenses, even though drug use occurs at similar rates across racial groups [5]. In addition to these continued racial disparities in sentencing, black women were unjustly labeled “welfare queens” in the 1980s [6]. Policymakers and the media depicted black women as unfeminine cheats who gave birth to “crack babies,” wrongly blaming them for the cause of the social and economic decline of the late 20th century [6]. 

Prejudiced people and laws have impacted not only how many people get arrested, but also who gets arrested. Drug law enforcement initiatives have targeted black Americans. Often, women who are in fact victims are incarcerated on conspiracy charges, and this disproportionately impacts black women. Unfair arrest practices and sentencing create cycles of not only poverty, but also racism, and perpetuate long-standing ills of American society. To address these wrongs, we must fundamentally amend drug laws and their enforcement practices and examine our own prejudices.

References

[1] Pearl, Betsy. “Ending the War on Drugs: By the Numbers.” Center for American Progress. June 27, 2018. https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/criminal-justice /reports/2018/06/27/452819/ending-war-drugs-numbers/.

[2] HISTORY.COM Editors. “War on Drugs.” May 31, 2017. https://www.history.com/topics/crime/the-war-on-drugs#section_6.

[3] Drug Policy Alliance. “The Drug War, Mass Incarceration and Race.” January 25, 2018. http://www.drugpolicy.org/resource/drug-war-mass-incarceration-and-race-englishspanish.

[4] Mesic, Aldina. “Women and the War on Drugs.” Public Health Post. May 16, 2017. https://www.publichealthpost.org/research/women-and-the-war-on-drugs/.

[5] Drug Policy Alliance. “Women and the Drug War.” https://www.drugpolicy.org/issues/women-drug-war.

[6] Harris-Perry, Melissa. “The rest of the story: Black women and the War on Drugs.” The Undefeated. September 15, 2016. https://theundefeated.com/features/the-rest-of-story-black-women-and-the-her-story-of-the-war-on-drugs-jay-z-melissa-harris-perry-nyt/.

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Sophie Lovering is a junior at the University of Pennsylvania majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics and minoring in American Sign Language and Deaf Studies. She has a passion for criminal justice reform and is involved in Beyond Arrests: Re-Thinking Systematic Oppression.

When Amazing Grace Finds You

An impromptu rendition of Aretha Franklin's Amazing Grace by Councilwoman Adrienne Adams of New York City Council, 28th district. Art by Yang Sun.

BY: SHANIA THOMAS, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

Last year, in an interview with us, Councilmember Adrienne Adams was asked what injustice angered her most. At that time, it was the Eric Garner case. This both surprised me yet was not shocking at all. What were the odds that this interview would mention the same injustice that has been so vividly brought to light over the last week: police brutality and the killing of innocent black people? That is, in turn, what surprised me the least. That even though we had just fought the battle for Garner, a battle fought and lost with the effective acquittal of Officer Pantaleo, we were here again fighting for the right to survive as black Americans.

As the sick irony of it began to subside to the same hopelessness I had felt since I saw the video of a man die from knee strangulation, the sweet sound of Amazing Grace began to play. It was Adam's voice echoing in the cathedral as she paid tribute to the late Aretha Franklin.

As she soared through the hymn, I couldn't help but feel calmed and renewed. This song of hope, salvation, and redemption pierced my broken heart. It is no wonder that all people across the nation, black, white, Christian, or not, feels the power of these words almost as if it were another national anthem. Perhaps its universality comes from us all knowing that each of us, just like our country and the institutions of which she is built, may be broken, but no one and nothing is beyond redemption. Change and the ability to be rescued from the storm of your own wrongdoings is not out of reach. The best is yet to come if we hold on to Grace.

Thinking about how a song that gave me hope for a better future was written by a slave trader turned theologian, a new irony presented itself. Is it not true that fantastic art, especially music, has such a transcending power in its ability to speak in ways that seemed impossible? As council member Adams said, music allowed her "to find [her] voice, not just as a singer, but as an advocate and an activist in [her] community." 

My hope is that we will all use our voices, in every form they come in, to bring about our country's redemption. In the same way, Adam's song helped me, we each have a gift that will give us amazing grace.

Video editing and art by Yang Sun. You can find more of her amazing work on her Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/littlemomentsinart/. 

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Shania Thomas is a rising senior at Brandeis University majoring in Health Policy and Politics with minors in Social Justice Policy and Legal Studies. She is also an Associate Justice for the Student Union and a Central Massachusetts Organizing Lead for the Every Voice Coalition. She has a passion for all things healthcare and believes the injustices against Black Americans to be one of the greatest public health crises of her time.

Power in Place's Dedication to Racial Equality

Art by Yang Sun.

By: Sophie Lovering, Summer 2020 Collaborator at Power in Place

Power in Place has dedicated 2020 as the year we celebrate women of color. In 1920, women were granted the right to vote; but not all women. Women of color and immigrant women continued to battle for voting rights. Thus, we have dedicated this summer to exploring this narrative and celebrating women of color in the political sphere. 

As evidenced by police brutality and inequality in our criminal justice system, America still has a long way to go in the fight for racial equality. Power in Place would like to bring attention to the systemic racism that perpetuates our society and provide resources should you have the means to donate or participate in some other way.

There are several actions you can take to participate in change. Donating, signing petitions, having meaningful discussions, considering your prejudices, and joining peaceful physical movements are all beneficial to yourself and your community. The link at the end of this post will direct you to a list of resources compiled by Power in Place collaborators. This list is by no means exhaustive, but it should help if you are looking for direction. 

Power in Place will continue to uplift Black women in politics. Please continue to check our blog and social media accounts for further information. Click here to find the aforementioned resources.

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Sophie Lovering is a junior at the University of Pennsylvania majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics and minoring in American Sign Language and Deaf Studies. She has a passion for criminal justice reform and is involved in Beyond Arrests: Re-Thinking Systematic Oppression.

On Self-Advocacy

Photograph by Billy & Hells for Time Magazine.

By: Sophie Lovering, Summer 2020 Collaborator at Power in Place

Oregon State Senator Sara Gelser represents Senate District 8; she did not begin her career in public service as an elected official, however. When she had her first child, Sam, she spent much of her time in intensive care units and hospitals. She began to notice that “the privileges that [she] had meant that he was making faster progress than other kids whose disabilities organically might not have been as severe.” This realization inspired her to begin advocating for young kids with disabilities. Since running for office, she has dedicated her professional career to advocating for people who have been hidden or separated from communities not only by continuing her disability rights advocacy, but also by representing individuals lost in the criminal justice and foster care systems. Best said by her son Sam, Senator Gelser is a role model because she protects others. 

Senator Gelser has done more than advocate for her son Sam and countless other individuals in Oregon, however. In 2017, Senator Gelser spoke up about sexual harassment and was later featured as one of Time Magazine’s “Person of the Year” Silence Breakers. This path did not come without its difficulties. According to Senator Gelser, “it’s a lot harder to advocate for [yourself] than it is to advocate for other people.” Prior to breaking her silence, she had done work around domestic and sexual violence advocating for other people. She knew the steps involved in the process, and she knew what was to come, but it did not prepare her for what it felt like. As explained by Senator Gelser, it was uncomfortable to need to have her story affirmed and she began to question herself. “Did I perceive this the right way? Did I explain it the right way? Am I doing the wrong thing? Am I being too mean? Do I just lack a sense of humor? Nobody will ever like me again.” 

By sharing her story, Senator Gelser sparked important change in the Oregon Capitol. Her experience advocating for herself also taught her how to better advocate for others. Having a discussion about herself made her think differently about how she works with people on issues such as foster care and disability rights. She now asks herself: “Am I keeping those individuals centered and not inadvertently exploiting or pushing their stories in ways that are not helpful to them?” By becoming a self-advocate, Senator Gelser has improved not only her life but also the lives of those she represents. We can certainly agree with Sam that Senator Gelser is one of our favorite female role models.

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Sophie Lovering is a junior at the University of Pennsylvania majoring in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics and minoring in American Sign Language and Deaf Studies. She has a passion for disability rights advocacy; she was involved in Best Buddies in high school, and in college she serves as the Vice President of Penn Special Olympics and as a hearing ally of the Philadelphia Deaf community.