Misty Copeland Pushing Ballet's Boundaries

BY: Madeline Elkes, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

Being a part of the dance community for 10 years, I believe that it is one of the more accepting industries in terms of race and gender inclusivity. People are held to the standard of their talent, not to the color of their skin or sexual orientation. To succeed in dance is to succeed in utilizing resources and connections. However, selective access to resources has left certain parts of the dance world lacking diversity. Black and white dancers have prospered in dance, but dance opportunities can be hard to find for those with limited financial and social resources. This burden of the opportunity gap is often felt by African Americans, especially in the ballet industry. Although diversity is expanding in certain styles and at the top dance companies like Alvin Ailey, American Ballet Theater, and New York City Ballet, the ballet world in particular is still predominantly white [1]. 

Misty Copeland was the first African American female to become a principal dancer at the American Ballet Theater after 75 years of ABT’s existence [1]. She started her ballet career at 13 years old living in a motel room with her mom and five other siblings [2]. Copeland was pegged as a natural prodigy, and was later offered full scholarships to study at the San Francisco ballet School and the ABT summer intensive program. She soon joined the ABT ballet company, and was then promoted to principal dancer, a feat unfortunately unheard of for an African American woman before then [3].

Copeland has not only made history for her role as a principal dancer, but she has influenced the modern ballet world to push for diversity. Her proven success as an African American female ballet dancer, who proudly identified as black, has defied the traditional stereotypes of a white, stick-figure ballerina. Most importantly, she has been outspoken about her race.There were successful African American ballerinas who performed with major companies in the past, like Raven Wilkenson, Virginia Johnson, Janet Collins, etc.. However, they were asked to hide their blackness as much as possible to please the white audiences [3]. In the 1950s, Raven Wilkenson was not allowed to tell people that she was black since she was lighter skinned. She was also required to “white-up” before going on stage with Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo [3]. This was not enough to claim the dance world as equal, and Misty Copeland filled in many of the gaps that Raven and other black ballerinas had experienced. “They [audience members] want to see something beautiful but they also want to see themselves up there,” said Misty Copeland as she discussed the importance of a diverse audience in TIME video [4]. 

Misty Copeland has paved the way for ballet dancers and choreographers to pay attention to opportunities and minority representation in ballet companies. Training a dancer can take around 10 years, so recruiting black dancers must come at an early age, to offer them the dance education they need. Of course, we run into the issue that so many ballets are “white ballets,” such as  Swan Lake, the Nutcracker, and Giselle, where the main ballerina has a pale glow to her [3]. The ballet industry, and the dance industry, have come a long way in improving accessibility and race equality, but the industry still has to work to ensure that the dance community is free of racial biases. 

References

[1] Kourlas, Gia. "Push for Diversity in Ballet Turns to Training the Next Generation." The New York Times. October 30, 2015. Accessed June 18, 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/01/arts/dance/push-for-diversity-in-ballet-turns-to-training-the-next-generation.html.

[2]"The Official Website of Misty Copeland." Misty Copeland. Accessed June 18, 2020. https://mistycopeland.com/. https://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/15/opinion/black-dancers-white-ballets.html.

[4] TIME. "Misty Copeland On Changing the Face of Ballet | TIME 100 | TIME." YouTube. April 16, 2015. Accessed June 18, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddarrb8u7p8&feature=youtu.be.

[3] Woodard, Laurie A. "Black Dancers, White Ballets." The New York Times. July 15, 2015. Accessed June 18, 2020. 

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Madeline is a junior at Middlebury College majoring in Economics with a minor in Math. She is involved in Debate club, a dance club, and Middlebury Women on Wallstreet on campus. She was a dancer for many years, and is passionate about career equality, especially for female ballerinas.

The 2020 Abolitionist Movement: A New Road to Liberation

BY: SAHER AL KHAMASH, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

Cardboard cutouts have been an essential tenet to the BLM protests. Handmade, elaborate or simple, these cutouts capture some of the most powerful messages. Among those I’ve seen, the one that has left the biggest impression on me was a very little sign casually held by one hand at Stonewall in Lower Manhattan. Written in black ink it read “Abolish Police”. A sign so sweet and simple had opened my mind to a whole new world ~cue Aladdin theme music~. A world without prisons had been something I'd only been allowed to theorize about. At best it was an academic fantasy and at worst a delusion. Somehow seeing this concept actualized in such a concrete form sparked something within me. It wasn’t just the concept that struck me so powerfully however, but also the particular word “abolish”. 

To abolish means to formally put an end to a system, practice or institution. I feel as though abolition is a strong word for Americans because of its deep meaning in our history. The Civil War, the bloodiest war fought on this land, was fought over the idea of abolitionism. In a sort of a poetic way, I find that the use of “abolition” at this present moment in the United States of America, calls us to reckon with the parallels between slavery and mass incarceration, between slave patrols and police officers. In her book, The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander argues that slavery never really escaped American society, but rather has been rebranded time and time again. The Prison Industrial Complex and police function to relegate Black people to a second-class status by means of social control, economic repression, and political disenfranchisement. When our justice system criminalizes blackness, poverty and addiction, it denies support to Black communities. These actions justify the exploitation of Black people’s labor in prison and their murder at the hands of cops. Abolitionists seek to end these structures which subjugate Black lives and to replace them with systems that remedy community afflictions with dignity, respect and humanity. I find myself wondering now “what are we waiting for?” Abolishing police and prisons should be realistic goals in 2020. 

NYC protesters express their frustration with Mayor De Blasio and police department, calling to defund and abolish the NYPD. Photograph taken on June 10, 2020 at Washington Square Park, NY by Saher Al Khamash.

We currently live under a legal system that criminalizes blackness, poverty and addiction in various ways. The fact that hundreds of thousands are in jail right now because they simply cannot afford to pay bail is indicative of a “justice” system better suited to protect the wealthy and guilty rather than the poor and innocent [1]. Unjust criminalization of poverty and blackness are embedded in all aspects of the system. Take, for example, the sentence disparity between crack cocaine and powder cocaine. Although essentially the same drug, possession of 5 grams of crack cocaine, a cheaper drug used mostly by Black people, receives a 5-year minimum sentencing whereas possession of 500 grams of powder cocaine, a more expensive drug mostly used by White people, gets the same 5-year minimum [2]. Black people are also nearly 4 times more likely to get arrested for marijuana even though usage is relatively equal between white and Black people [3]. People who are economically driven into certain trades due to a lack of resources and opportunities, such as drug dealing and sex work, also face criminalization. Rather than restoring balance to those afflicted by poverty, addiction and discrimination, our justice system is based in stigmatizing and penalizing them. What happens is that the most vulnerable and targeted members of society go to prisons that then exploit their labor, paying them low-to-no wages [4]. There is no hope in reforming an inherently racist and exploitative penal system. Instead, we ought to look at the programs of restorative justice that exist in our society and invest in this method of uplifting struggling community members.

Spokesperson for Revolutionary Communist Party (also known as Revcom) holds up sign advocating for revolution. Photograph taken at Union Square, NY on June 2nd, 2020 by Saher Al Khamash.

In place of punitive systems, abolitionists seek a system of restorative justice. Abolition is not only about ending the police, jails and prisons. It is dedicated to ending the conditions which lead people to them. It acknowledges that there are ways to deal with crime and imbalances in our society instead of locking people up. When discussing abolition, people often ask “well how do we respond to crises without police or prisons?” The answer is by reallocating funds. Divesting from the police and reinvesting in social sectors will not only reduce the incentive for conflict or “bad choices” but also communities will be better equipped to resolve them. Currently police are tasked with addressing a wide range of community conflicts from noise complaints to domestic violence to mental health crises. These are tasks that can be fulfilled by other members of the social sector. We have social workers specialized in domestic violence who could respond to domestic violence issues. Mental health is a medical issue and not a criminal one. There are professionals who are certified to respond to someone experiencing a mental health crisis. Police are responding to calls that aren’t exactly crimes. As of right now, many state police are heavily funded, while social services scramble for money. Between the fiscal years of 2014 and 2019, New York spent 44.1 billion dollars on the police department and corrections and only 9.9 billion in homelessness services and 6.8 billion in housing preservation and development [5]. After much protesting and noise in New York City this past month, Mayor De Blasio has promised to cut $1 billion dollars from N.Y.P.D. funding in the 2021 fiscal year. You have probably heard or seen the demand to defund police among activists. Essential to the process of abolition is the incremental budget cuts on the police force (until funding ultimately reaches $0) and reallocation of those funds to communities’ social sectors such as healthcare, education, and housing. Abolition is not merely a question of abandoning structural racism, but of wanting to create genuine change in our afflicted communities.

Large crowds of people gather at the historic site of Stonewall to mourn the lives Black Trans people who were killed by law enforcement. Photograph taken June 2nd, 2020 at Stonewall, Manhattan by Saher Al Khamash.

I can imagine that for some this sounds extreme. You might even be asking yourself “what about police reform?” Abolitionists argue against reform because as the mainstream response to police brutality, reform has failed to reduce brutality and crime for decades. The fact of the matter is that systems which function to preserve white supremacy cannot reform themselves out of racism; they can only be deconstructed and replaced. Reform may have provoked real change if the issue really was just “a few bad apples;” the reality however, as Ava DuVernay puts it, is that, “the whole damn tree is rotten”. Most studies show that increasing diversity or “cultural sensitivity” training among police does not reduce crime nor brutality [6]. And while Joe Biden continues to propose to enhance “community police,” we have to acknowledge that these officers brutalize and kill Black people too. After all, Trayvon Martin was killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer. Reform often leads to increased funding of the police force for more training and equipment that could otherwise be put into the social sectors of communities. These misguided attempts at reform have only prolonged real change all under the illusion of gradual progress. The inability to address the fundamental racism in our police, prison and criminal justice system has only led to greater repression of Black communities. After centuries of systemic oppression - slavery, indentured servitude, Jim Crow, redlining, overpolicing, mass incarceration, housing discrimination, job discrimination, disenfranchisement and much more - the last thing Black communities need is more punishment. Black communities deserve a system that serves and protects them- a restorative justice. 

You may not have imagined a world without police or prisons before, but you also probably didn’t imagine a year like 2020. In some kind of a perfect storm, COVID 19, mass unemployment, and social distancing measures exposed our country’s rampant racism to a larger audience than ever before. Social media in particular has played a significant role in spreading awareness and news, mobilizing agents of change, and organizing peaceful protests. There have been Black Lives Matter’s protests in over 1,600 places, in every state of the U.S., all across the globe and the numbers are still growing [7]. The present moment has lent us unprecedented leverage to finally uproot our nation’s racism and plant new seeds for the world we want to live in. The time has come when we have to decide between recycling systems of oppression or reconstructing systems of liberation. Frankly, I believe the universe is acting too well in our favor for us to do anything but dream big and shoot for the stars we once didn’t imagine.

References

[1] Wing, Nick. "Our Bail System Is Leaving Innocent People To Die In Jail Because They're Poor." Prison Legal News. Last modified February 24, 2017. Accessed June 17, 2020. https://www.prisonlegalnews.org/news/2017/feb/24/our-bail-system-leaving-innocent-people-die-jail-because-theyre-poor/.

[2] Vagin, Deborah J., and Jesselyn McCurdy. "CRACKS IN THE SYSTEM: 20 YEARS OF THE UNJUST FEDERAL CRACK COCAINE LAW." ACLU. Last modified October 2006. Accessed June 17, 2020. https://www.aclu.org/other/cracks-system-20-years-unjust-federal-crack-cocaine-law.

[3] "THE WAR ON MARIJUANA IN BLACK AND WHITE." ACLU. Accessed June 17, 2020. https://www.aclu.org/issues/smart-justice/sentencing-reform/war-marijuana-black-and-white.

[4] Sawyer, Wendy. "How much do incarcerated people earn in each state?" Prison Policy Initiative. Last modified April 10, 2017. Accessed June 17, 2020. https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/.

[5] Ricciulli, Valeria, and Caroline Spivack. "What NYC could do with its $6 billion police budget." New York Curbed. Last modified June 5, 2020. Accessed June 16, 2020. https://ny.curbed.com/2020/6/5/21279214/nyc-defund-nypd-police-budget-affordable-housing-homelessness.

[6] Vitale, Alex S. "The Limits of Police Reform." Chapter 1 to The End of Policing. Brooklyn, NY: Verso, 2017.

[7] Haseman, Janie, Karina Zaiets, Mitchell Thorson, Carlie Procell, George Petras, and Shawn J. Sullivan. "Tracking protests across the USA in the wake of George Floyd's death." USA Today. Last modified June 12, 2020. Accessed June 16, 2020. https://www.usatoday.com/in-depth/graphics/2020/06/03/map-protests-wake-george-floyds-death/5310149002/.

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Saher Al Khamash is a rising senior at Middlebury College, where she majors in Global Security Studies. She also loves studying Spanish, Arabic, Religion and Art History and has a passion for yoga, tea and cats!

Margaret Foley: The Life and Legacy of a Queer Suffragette

By Emma Quirk, Summer 2023 Collaborator at Power in Place

Margaret Foley was an activist who fought hard for the suffrage movement. She is best remembered as “the Heckler,” a woman who was loud about what she cared about, unafraid to interrupt men, and captivated her audiences when she spoke. Foley is credited with pushing multiple anti-suffrage politicians out of their positions in public office. 

Born in 1873 to Irish immigrant parents in Dorchester Massachusetts, her working-class background separated her from the majority of the well-known suffragettes, who were generally middle to upper-class. Foley worked in a hatmaker’s factory, where she joined the union. This is where she began her activist career: fighting for improved working conditions. She believed that all women deserved the right to vote, especially those who worked and paid taxes. 

As a suffragette, Foley worked for the Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association (MWSA) and the Margaret Brent Suffrage Guild. Passionate about women’s rights and spreading this message in any way she could, she notably heckled politicians, distributed pamphlets from a hot air balloon, and spoke with people in mines, public meeting houses, and on street corners. 

Foley traveled to London, England to further learn from other suffragettes, particularly Emmeline Pankhurst. She was arrested alongside other suffragettes for protesting, and the news of this spread to the United States. Her parents were horrified, however, Foley was invigorated by this experience and kept in touch with Pankhurst via letters for years following, despite Foley’s return to America. Through remarks from Foley and the subsequent contents of the letters exchanged, it is relatively clear that Foley had a romantic crush on Pankhurst. 

At the time, queer relationships were not accepted in mainstream suffragette circles, and they were certainly not accepted in wider American society. Those who opposed the suffragettes often called them untraditional, mannish, and unladylike and used these notions to push against the right for women to vote. Within the movement, organizations such as the National American Women’s Suffrage Association (NAWSA), distanced themselves from suffragettes like Foley who defied norms, were working-class, and did not behave in ways that were deemed ladylike.  

Foley never formally married, however, she lived with fellow suffragette Helen Elizabeth Goodnow from the mid-1920s until her death in 1957. The two lived in what is referred to as  ‘Boston marriage,’ a domestic relationship between two women who lived together and did not choose to marry a man. These most commonly occurred in Boston, hence the name, where there was a dense population of college-educated women who had the financial ability not to enter a heterosexual marriage. While not all of these were necessarily romantic in nature, based on evidence from their lives, Foley and Goodnow’s was. 

The two met while working for MWSA, with Goodnow volunteering to be Foley’s secretary in 1916. They toured the country together during this time, promoting suffrage ideals to people in the southern United States. Years later, Goodnow wrote to her grandmother “I think of the hundreds of people who would give anything to be with her for a week. We read together, walked together, got up, and went to bed when we felt like it. And she really loves me.” Despite retaliating from cultural and social norms of the time, Foley and Goodnow chose a life in which they weren’t accepted by most. They served as an image for future queer relationships to look upon and further the fight for acceptance.

When learning about the suffragette movement, it is imperative to not only explore the most commonly shared narratives and names but to examine closely who and what are being purposefully excluded from these accounts. The stories of suffragettes who were not deemed model women and defied norms — whether they dressed in “men’s clothes,” were working women, chose to remain unmarried, or were simply not wealthy white women — have been purposefully hidden, and it is time to uncover and share them.

References

[1] Boston National Historical Park. “Margaret Foley.” National Park Service, Updated January 17, 2023, https://www.nps.gov/people/margaret-foley.htm.  

[2] Boyles, Anna. “Boston Marriages and the Queer History of Women’s Suffrage.” City of  Boston, Updated November 15, 2022, https://www.boston.gov/news/boston-marriages-and-queer-history-womens-suffrage. 

[3] Connolly, Jenna. “Boston Irish-Americans to Remember: Suffragist Margaret Foley.” Very  Local, April 15, 2022. https://www.verylocal.com/boston-suffragist-margaret-foley/21627/. 

[4] Margaret Foley Papers, 1847-1968. Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. https://id.lib.harvard.edu/ead/sch00004/catalog  Accessed June 15, 2023.

[5] Rouse, Wendy. Public Faces, Secret Lives: A Queer History of the Women's Suffrage Movement. New York University Press, 2022. 

Emma Quirk is a rising sophomore at Mount Holyoke College and is double majoring in English and Critical Social Thought. On campus, Emma is a staff writer and photos editor for Mount Holyoke News and works as a student fellow in the Office of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion.

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.

Deserae Kill Eagle and How to Contribute to a Movement

Deserae Kill Eagle with her two daughters.

BY: Eliza King Freedman, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

On May 25, George Floyd was murdered by a police officer, making him one of too many victims of police brutality. However, unlike countless other victims, Floyd’s murder was recorded and went viral. Since then, the country has been consumed by protests and calls to action regarding police brutality and the Black Lives Matter movement, and people who have never listened before are beginning to pay attention to what needs to change in this country and what role they play in that change. Many of us, myself included, are wondering what we can do as citizens. How much of a difference can we really make with an Instagram post, a sign at a protest, a conversation with a friend? Wouldn’t we do better by simply supporting those already in power and letting them use their influence to encourage change? No, I don’t think we would. I believe that it is the conversations between friends and the protests and the posts that are bringing about the legislative change that our nation is finally seeing. And it was the words of Deserae Kill Eagle, granddaughter of Little Shell Chippewa Tribe Vice-Chairman Leona Kienenberger, that affirmed this perspective and motivated me to continue forth in this manner:

I had someone tell me once, “Des, you don’t have to be on the front line. You can help by holding an office position or by helping in an office position and connecting your people and networking.” And I thought, “No, but we need more of the grass-root people who are helping show and model for their people.”

In addition to her thoughts regarding how to support a movement and how to participate in something much bigger than oneself, Kill Eagle also discussed what an education can do to supplement one’s cause and one’s ability to participate in society:

Systemic racism is finally being forced into the light in this country in a new, all-consuming way, as people finally realize the ways that the government and the American institutions have been intentionally holding back and holding down BIPOC. Kill Eagle’s words struck me specifically because she has known for so long what many of us are only just learning. She knows how to fight, she knows to learn about what she's fighting for before she speaks on it, and she knows how to participate. As we navigate these protests and this rocky political climate, I believe that it is people like Kill Eagle that will guide us through, for she has been fighting for this cause longer than many of us were even aware of it.

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Eliza King Freedman is a rising sophomore at Middlebury College. She intends to major in International Politics and Economics with a minor in Architectural Studies. In addition to Power in Place, she also works for a horse therapy organization that specializes in the rehabilitation of veterans. She is most passionate about the study of nonproliferation and prison reform.

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

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.

Powerful Positions Dictated by our Mothers

BY: BELLA LEVAVI, SUMMER 2020 COLLABORATOR AT POWER IN PLACE

The women who come before us are what make us who we are today. The female role models in our lives show us all we can accomplish and empower us to achieve great feats. 

While looking through the role models of the women on our website, I found they all had feisty mothers and grandmothers that worked hard to create communities and help others. It is no coincidence that our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers are the first women we see interacting with the world because they dictate what we will accomplish later on. It is clear that these mothers put all the female politicians on our website in the positions they are today.

Maura Healey, Massachusetts Attorney General, said, “I remember my grandmother as the backbone of the family...[I] saw the power and strength of a woman for the first time first hand through that experience.” 

Maura Healey and many other women we interviewed saw these powerful women in their own lives, and said I can do that too, and took the power that they saw and turned it into positions in government. 

As a young woman myself, I see other women around me creating great undertakings whether it is running for office or doing other work to uplift the community. I use their power to give myself the confidence to keep their legacy going and work hard to create change. These stories of ancestors of hard working women are not just single journeys of going against the current, but a chain of women uplifting each other to create even greater good every generation to come.

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Bella Levavi is a rising junior at Smith College majoring in Government and English. She is involved in Smith's newspaper the Sophian and the college radio station. She is passionate about vegetarian co-ops, writing, and social justice.