Progressive voices long ago characterized America鈥檚 penal system as a failure. However, in recent years, even a few button-down conservative, law-and-order types have grudgingly acknowledged the need for change. Of course, they don鈥檛 sign on to so-called 鈥渂leeding heart鈥� concerns about human rights. But they do express alarm about the dollars and cents required to warehouse human beings with no financial return. 

Texas lawyer Marc Levin, who helped establish the organization Right on Crime has asked, 鈥淗ow is it 鈥榗onservative鈥� to spend vast amounts of taxpayer money on a strategy without asking whether it is providing taxpayers with the best public safety return on their investment?鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

In his essay 鈥淭he Conservative Case for Jail Reform,鈥� Arthur Rizer of the conservative think tank R Street Institute writes, 鈥淚ncarceration separates offenders from their families, which increases rates of homelessness and single parenthood. Approximately 17 million children are currently being raised without a father, a growing social problem that only perpetuates cycles of violence and crime.鈥�

While Rizer and other conservatives have defaulted to 鈥渇amily values鈥� as a reason for concern, true conservatives have to acknowledge the immorality of corporate exploitation of warehousing humans. Specifically, conservative rhetoric decries welfare and other forms of government assistance for individuals. Nevertheless, some corporations have shamelessly looked to government to feed them a guaranteed, steady diet of people to populate their private prisons. Some corporations have also relied on government to cut their labor costs by providing access to prisoners as low-paid or unpaid workers.

However conservatives might arrive at their reservations and objections to mass incarceration, the frustrations with the U.S. system are now universal across the political spectrum and have prompted a global search for better alternatives. 

Low Incarceration

Let鈥檚 begin our search in countries with the smallest prison populations per 100,000 residents. Several such countries are in Africa. Those countries include, among others: Ghana, Democratic Republic of Congo, Nigeria, Guinea Bissau, and the Central African Republic. As a whole, the African continent confines 1 million of the 11 million prisoners worldwide. 

These countries鈥� small prison populations are not necessarily an indicator of progressive prison practices worthy of imitation. In fact, overcrowding, violence, and corruption exist there as well. The very concept of 鈥減rison鈥� was mostly imposed on African countries by European colonizers to curtail rebellion, and to maintain social, economic, and political order. Moreover, in certain cases there has been no commitment of resources or creative energy to refining these institutions into effective rehabilitation facilities. The general poverty in certain African countries resulting from underdevelopment and the ravages of colonialism have in some cases yielded prisons with unacceptable conditions of confinement.

鈥淲hat seems to be generally accepted is that penitentiary institutions are not legacies of African traditions from the past,鈥� writes Jeremy Sarkin in his paper 鈥淧risons in Africa.鈥� 鈥淚mprisonment was by no means a standard practice in African justice. In fact, the local judicial systems in African states generally focused more on supporting victims, rather than focusing on perpetrators. Indeed, the purpose of this system was the restitution of the harm.鈥�

It is tragically ironic that the very features of traditional African systems that were suppressed by European colonizers in the past are what have now been adopted by some European prison systems. These traditional African concepts like ubuntu, which has varied translations related to human connectivity but simply means 鈥渉umanity,鈥� have not only distinguished some European prisons, but they have also attracted the attention of those looking for progressive incarceration alternatives. The systems viewed with greatest favor are in Scandinavia. 

For example, Finland moved to reforming their open prison system in the 1960s, and in the 1990s Norway implemented restorative practices.

Consequently, those who look to these systems for different ways of addressing criminal justice are in some ways looking to traditional Africa.

A Look at Scandinavia

Many believe that not only are the prison systems in Scandinavia the best thing going, but the Scandinavian way of doing things may also be the best option for the U.S. Norway attracts special attention because recidivism rates in that country are among the lowest in the world. Only 20% of those released from Norwegian prisons are arrested within the next two years. Compare that to the U.S. where approximately 68% of formerly incarcerated persons are arrested within three years.

Norway鈥檚 experience is attributed to a 1998 decision to radically redirect the prison system away from retribution and toward rehabilitation. A second wave of reforms in 2007 involved the creation of special programs for job training (many who are incarcerated will be released with carpentry or culinary skills) and education, as well as assistance with the search for housing, employment, and other necessities of re-entry to the world outside of prison walls.

Also, unless they鈥檝e been convicted of a crime that 鈥渢argets the state or democratic order,鈥� Norwegian prisoners can vote, and they have access to health care.

Perhaps most striking to observers are the Norwegian prison facilities. Halden is a maximum-security prison near Oslo that has been dubbed by Time Magazine as 鈥渢he world鈥檚 most humane prison.鈥� There is only a single wall, and many features of the standard American prison, such as guard towers, massive cell blocks, and barbed wire are conspicuously absent. Instead, prisoners have private bedrooms, bathrooms, and kitchens. The underlying philosophy is that prisoners are sufficiently punished by depriving them of their liberty, and if there is any hope of rehabilitation, other aspects of their lives must be as normal as possible.

The experience of Norway鈥檚 prison guards is also different. After observing Norwegian prison facilities, one Pennsylvania prison official was quoted by HuffPost as saying, 鈥淲e feel we鈥檙e serving our communities by keeping these dangerous individuals enclosed from society, and here, I think they feel like they鈥檙e serving their community, serving their society, by taking those dangerous individuals and changing them for the better. 鈥� I鈥檇 never really looked at my job as an opportunity to change somebody鈥檚 life.鈥�

Doran Larson, who toured and wrote about prisons in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Finland, writes in his article 鈥淲hy Scandinavian Prisons Are Superior鈥�: 

鈥淓ach prisoner has a 鈥榗ontact officer鈥� who monitors and helps advance progress toward return to the world outside鈥攁 practice introduced to help officers avoid the damage experienced by performing purely punitive functions: stress, hypertension, alcoholism, suicide, and other job-related hazards that today plague American corrections officers, who have an average life expectancy of 59.鈥�

Clearly these restorative justice practices provide a different paradigm.

Finland鈥檚 prisoners are allowed civilian clothing, extensive opportunities to visit with families, and opportunities to keep tabs on what鈥檚 happening in the outside world with modern technology like mobile phones and flat-screen TVs. Prison officers don鈥檛 carry batons, handcuffs, tasers, or other weapons. 

In Finland, there are also 鈥渙pen prisons,鈥� where even those who have committed murder get to experience the semblance of a normal life. At the open prison in Kerava, prisoners work for $8/hour, and they pay rent to the prison. They study at the nearby university, do their own grocery shopping, and get vacation days. 

Although open prisons in Finland have been around since the 1930s, it鈥檚 taken decades for the country to remake its penal policy. All of this contributes in various ways to preserving the dignity of prisoners with hopes that they will also be transformed. (According to Finland鈥檚 Criminal Sanction Agency, the open prisons actually cost less because there鈥檚 not the expense of extra security measures and personnel.) 

But whether open or closed, restorative justice is one of the more important aspects of Scandinavia鈥檚 rehabilitation process.  

鈥淥ne point of criticism of traditional criminal justice was that the victim is absent and the offender is silent,鈥� explains Norwegian scholar Anna Nylund in her study 鈥淩estorative Justice and Victim-Offender Mediation in Norway.鈥� 鈥淭he offender does not need to face the victim and the consequences of the crime, nor take responsibility for his or her action. The victim cannot share his or her feelings and view of the crime, nor understand why and how the crime was committed.鈥�

Nylund continues, 鈥淩estorative justice is not about fact-finding: The offender must at least admit to the facts or plead guilty. The main interest is how to repair the wrongs of a crime and to make the offender take responsibility for his or her actions, by recognizing the pain and problems inflicted on the victim and by apologizing. The victim shares his or her views and feelings with the offender, as does the offender, consequently both get a better understanding of the crime, the actions before and during the crime, and consequences of the crime.鈥�

Although restorative justice is a flexible process that does not easily lend itself to rigid procedural rules of the type used in court proceedings, Norway has institutionalized the method by establishing a National Mediation Service under the auspices of the Ministry of Justice and Police. Services are provided in 22 regions where more than 8,000 cases are processed each year. Trained community volunteers are used rather than professional mediators. Agencies refer cases with no limitation on the types of offenses that are eligible for services. It is even possible for these cases to be diverted away from the criminal justice system altogether, leaving the offender with no criminal record for the offense.

But can these successful models work in the U.S.?

Careful deliberation and analysis are prompted by the radically different demographic circumstances of Scandinavia and America, as well as the overall contrasting socio-economic and political cultures.

The Race Factor

In his article, Larson explains, 鈥淪candinavian prisons are roughly as racially and ethnically homogeneous as American prisons: 70% of Nordic prisoners are ethnically white citizens; the other 30% are foreign-born (mostly from other EU countries). In U.S. prisons, ethnic and racial minorities make up over 60% of the population.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

It鈥檚 not just the optics of the racial demographics that matter. America鈥檚 tragic racial history adds innumerable layers of complexity to any effort to rehabilitate prison populations. These challenges involve, among many other things, the explicit and implicit racial bias against prisoners of color that causes many in the broader society to regard them as a throwaway population not deserving of the resources needed for genuine rehabilitation. Because of this, many politicians likely assume that providing U.S. prisoners with the living amenities provided to Scandinavian prisoners would be a hard sell. 

鈥淭he difference is that the majority of Scandinavian prisoners look like the majority鈥攊ncluding the voting majority鈥攐utside,鈥� Larson writes. 鈥淟aws, enforcement policies, and prison practices are those that the majority of citizens assume would work for themselves.鈥� If the population outside of prison walls does not identify with those within, the political and social will for meaningful rehabilitation opportunities is unlikely to exist.

This suggests that a rehabilitation strategy in a homogeneous society is more likely to have effective, productive results in a homogeneous community, while the opposite may be true when the offender鈥檚 reality outside of prison is that of an alien of sorts鈥攁 sojourner in a hostile world. A Black prisoner newly released into a dominant White culture is likely to encounter dismissiveness at best and cruelty at worst because of both his race and his criminal history. A Black job seeker with a criminal record is not generally welcomed by employers. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission concluded that because of the disproportionate incarceration of people of color, with only a few exceptions, employers who disqualify job applicants solely because of a criminal record engage in racial discrimination. The frequency of such discrimination prompted the formation of a movement to 鈥渂an the box鈥� on job applications where candidates must place a checkmark to report their criminal convictions.

If whatever was done in prison to prepare prisoners for re-entry into society has not prepared them for hostility, or at least indifference, to their efforts to rejoin the community, the chances of recidivism will be increased. For a Scandinavian-style prison system to work in a racially diverse country, there must be a supportive, affirming community that embraces offenders who are people of color. Because community was of great importance in traditional Africa, this may be especially important for African Americans because of their ancestral roots and an enduring culture.

Tanzanian law professor Julena Jumbe Gabagambi, in her paper 鈥淎 Comparative Analysis of Restorative Justice Practices in Africa,鈥� explains, 鈥淭his makes perfect sense because African peoples tend to live communally and abhorred anything that could strain relationships, disconnect an individual or family with the community, and paralyze their social relationships.鈥� Gabagambi goes on to say, 鈥淸P]eople who know the offender are community members and they are better placed to reconcile and reintegrate the offender by making him or her accountable for his or her criminal acts or conduct.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The desired supportive community may not be present because of America鈥檚 racial challenges, and the prospects for a good outcome for a Black former prisoner are at least dubious. A released prisoner may receive support and affirmation from his immediate family and maybe even from his neighborhood. But when dealing with the anti-Black, anti-former-prisoner wider world, he will be faced with not only barriers to employment, but also to housing and other necessities, not to mention problems presented by police officers who have not yet learned that Black lives matter.

The challenges are not limited to external threats posed by a hostile community. In some cases, the problems are internal. Black offenders who have taken pervasive White supremacist messages to heart can descend into self-hatred and become their own worst enemies. If a Scandinavian model is to be used in the U.S., internalized White supremacy or 鈥渋nternalized oppression鈥� must be thoroughly understood, and systems must be adjusted to address it, because it is a real phenomenon. 

Notions of White superiority that were created in the 15th century to justify conquest and slavery have a firm grip on the minds of people of all colors. Harvard law professor Randall Kennedy explains in his book Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word,  how even his own African American grandmother was affected: 鈥淪he swore that she would never allow a 鈥榥igger doctor鈥� to care for her and repeatedly warned that 鈥榠f you see a bunch of niggers coming, turn around and go the other way.鈥� Big Mama had clearly internalized antiblack prejudice. She truly believed that white people鈥檚 water was wetter than black people鈥檚 water, that as a rule, whites were nicer, better looking, and more capable than blacks.鈥�

In the 1950s, psychiatrist Frantz Fanon of Martinique, who was a participant in African decolonization struggles, explained in his book, Black Skin White Masks, how this sense of inferiority is created. He wrote that comic books 鈥渁re put together by white men for little white men. This is the heart of the problem. 鈥� In the magazines the Wolf, the Devil, the Evil Spirit, the Bad Man, the Savage are always symbolized by Negroes or Indians; since there is always identification with the victor, the little Negro, quite as easily as the little white boy, becomes an explorer, an adventurer, a missionary 鈥榳ho faces the danger of being eaten by the wicked Negroes.鈥欌��

In 21st-century America, popular culture is still dominated by 鈥渨icked Negroes鈥� in the form of thugs in cop shows, music videos, movies, and other media. If an individual hates himself because of his skin color, it is only a short step to hating and victimizing others of his race. When those crimes are committed, how does one answer the question of who is at fault? If Scandinavian rehabilitation strategies are focused on seeking an acknowledgment of guilt from the offender, are the broader social and historical forces that played a role in the conduct to be left unaddressed? If so, is a rehabilitative process truly complete if those loose ends are left dangling? Because restorative justice is at the heart of Scandinavian rehabilitation models, there may be value in first examining how well that process addresses prisoners鈥� racial circumstances.

Henry McClendon, director of community engagement for the International Institute for Restorative Practices, suggests that as a restorative justice facilitator engages in a colloquy with the offender, there are likely to be clues that the feelings or emotions that prompted the offending conduct were not experienced for the first time during the crime. This will prompt participants to revisit other occasions when there were similar feelings until ultimately, they identify the triggering event鈥攚丑颈肠丑 could involve feelings of racial inferiority experienced during early childhood. 鈥淎t the core people are the same,鈥� McClendon says. But 鈥淸a facilitator] should be culturally sensitive鈥� in addition to being properly trained.

Beyond the issues that are personal to the offender, account must also be taken of his or her community鈥檚 unique historical and social experience and the consequent psychological impacts. For example, it may not be enough to communicate to a Black offender that he has been 鈥渂ad,鈥� and he needs to commit to being 鈥済ood.鈥� On some level a person of African ancestry who has navigated America鈥檚 racial landscape may not even know what that means. Consider that the dominant culture tells children police officers are 鈥済ood.鈥� Yet many Black children routinely observe police officers being violent, deceptive, and indifferent to human suffering. 

If that is what a 鈥済ood鈥� person does, it is possible that the offender has already signed on to that program, and it is what caused him to become incarcerated in the first place. Thus the rehabilitation of such an individual demands a deprogramming of sorts that defies the use of checklists and routines. What may be required is a highly individualized evaluation and program that considers how all of America鈥檚 racial negatives may have contributed to the production of an individual who the broader society regards as 鈥渃riminal.鈥�

Keep Politics Out 

In the U.S., more than 2 million people are warehoused in state and federal prisons, local jails, juvenile correction facilities, detention facilities, Indian Country jails, state psychiatric hospitals, etc.  That鈥檚 approximately 700 per 100,000 people.

According to the Prison Police Initiative, the most contentious issues in our criminal justice system鈥攖he overcriminalization of drug use, private prisons, and low-paid or unpaid prison labor鈥攕till do not explain why most people are incarcerated and how we can dramatically and safely move toward decarceration. 

But Larson gives us a hint. He writes that the reform of Scandinavian prisons was possible because their criminal justice policy 鈥渞arely enters political debate.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Decisions about the criminal justice system are left to the professionals in the field, Larson writes.

So there is, for example, no 鈥淲ar on Drugs鈥� waged by politicians that by default targets particular people (as is the case in the U.S. where Black, Brown, Indigenous, and poor people make up the majority of the incarcerated). Also absent is a class divide and culture of socio-economic disparities that can produce violent behavior.

In the U.S. where punishment along the lines of race and class is common, Larson writes, 鈥淭his peculiarly American institutionalization has created a nation where few middle-class white Americans can name anyone they know personally who has been sentenced to prison, and even fewer black Americans of any class cannot.鈥� According to Norwegian criminologist Nils Christie, 鈥淭he more unlike oneself the imagined perpetrator of crime, the harsher the conditions one will agree to impose upon convicted criminals, and the greater the range of acts one will agree should be designated as crimes.鈥�

It鈥檚 not hidden that the United States was established by and for property-owning (read: wealthy) White men. The same make up the majority of U.S. politicians at every level鈥攆ederal, state, and local. There is a range of retribution toward those who are not part of that demographic. 

In tailoring a Scandinavian model for use in the U.S. while addressing the scars of White supremacy, U.S. prison officials may have to be both thoughtful and creative. 

They may, for example, have to consider the possibility that elimination of racial self-hatred will require an injection of racial pride and self-esteem. Perhaps that can be accomplished at least in part with professionally designed courses on the history of Africa and its global diaspora. There might also be benefits to providing all prisoners with a structural analysis of society that helps them to gain a full understanding of systemic racism and the ways in which their personal circumstances were influenced, if not determined, by broader social forces. There are many other programmatic possibilities. 

The bottom line is that what may work well in Finland or Norway may not fit in the U.S. unless adjustments are made. This should not stand in the way of developing a U.S. criminal justice system that is both humane and transformative. 

Inserting such a controversial topic into mainstream discourse is French economist Thomas Piketty. His 700-page tome, Capital in the Twenty-First Century, shocked everyone this year when it made The New York Times bestseller list and bookstores found themselves backordering an economics book for legions of eager readers. Piketty did exhaustive searches of tax records from Great Britain, France, and the United States, going as far back as the late 18th century in France. Using sophisticated computer modeling and analyses, the professor from the Paris School of Economics debunks a long-held assumption—that income from wages will tend to grow at roughly the same rate as wealth—and instead makes a compelling case that, over time, the apparatus of capitalism grows wealth faster than wages. Result: Inequality between the wealthy and everyone else will widen faster and faster; and, without progressive taxation, his data show we’ll return to levels of inequality not seen since America’s Gilded Age.

Piketty, no Marxist, says a solution lies in a “confiscatory” tax on wealth: Tax salaries over $500,000 at 80 percent worldwide, and tax wealth at 15 percent worldwide. Every year.

Unless we can reverse the inequality trends of the past 35 years, Piketty says, the ensuing social chaos will eventually destroy democracy. Unfortunately, not even Piketty sees much chance of all nations on Earth simultaneously enacting his tax plans.

But at least he sparked a widespread discussion. And fortunately, others have been digging deeply, thoughtfully into the same questions, and they have some practical as well as achievable ideas for reversing poverty and inequality trends.

Investigation

Pulitizer Prize-winner Hedrick Smith authored a pageturner called Who Stole the American Dream? Despite his whodunnit title, Smith reveals the perps long before you finish the book. The former New York Times reporter uses data and real-life stories to build a case against American CEOs and the politicians who do their bidding.

Unless we can reverse the inequality trends of the past 35 years… the ensuing social chaos will eventually destroy democracy.

Between 1945 and 1973, Smith notes, U.S. workers’ productivity grew by 96 percent, and they were rewarded with a 94 percent increase in their wages. Between 1973 and 2011, years that parallel a collapse of the middle class, U.S. workers’ productivity grew by 80 percent, yet those evermore-productive employees saw only a 10 percent increase in their wages. Millions who created that wealth were thus pushed into poverty or to its precipice, while those who fancy a neomedieval economic system transferred billions in profits, generated by that labor, upward to themselves.

Gar Alperovitz is a professor of political economy at the University of Maryland. Like Smith, Alperovitz asks a question with his book’s title: What Then Must We Do? To be more accurate, he might have called it “Here’s What We’re Already Doing”—to create fresh models that can inspire a new economy.

What makes Alperovitz’s ideas valuable is that he not only lays out an array of alternatives already keeping people from poverty, but solutions we also can build upon to create strategies that, over time, might replace corporate capitalism.

And replacing capitalism no longer is farfetched. In 2013, Alperovitz was invited to address the Academy of Management, a group mostly of corporate advisers and business school professors with 20,000 members worldwide, “and the entire focus of the meeting was: Is capitalism over?—and, if so, where are we going?” Alperovitz pointed out during an extended conversation. “Even these people are now open to new ideas.”

Smith makes a similar point. The American system is now so obviously broken that even some corporate leaders are calling for a “domestic Marshall Plan” to repair our economy. From their thinking and others, he puts forward a proposal to reclaim the American Dream.

Start, he says, by creating a public-private partnership to generate 5 million new jobs rebuilding infrastructure—bridges, highways, and rail corridors. Increase government investment in science and high-technology research to bolster U.S. innovation and spur a manufacturing renaissance.

Make income tax fairer, which will decrease inequality, then fix the corporate tax structure so it promotes American jobs and curtails outsourcing. At the same time, force China to live up to ethical trading principles because that would generate up to 4 million U.S. jobs.

We can cut the Pentagon budget by $1 trillion—not much more than 10 percent of annual military spending—over the next decade, Smith says, and pump the money into this domestic Marshall Plan. We should also refinance millions of homes now “underwater” and strengthen safety-net programs such as Social Security and Medicare.

The bad news: Much of this new Marshall Plan depends on congressional action, where such ideas have little chance as long as the current gridlock prevails.

“Changing America’s direction will not be easy,” Smith says. “It will happen only if there is a populist, grassroots surge demanding it, like the mass movements of the 1960s and 1970s.”

Our political system is as broken as our economic system. But Americans could mobilize to reform electoral politics and reduce the influence of money in elections. And for those who are disenchanted with government, Smith recommends that they take a look at how well it’s working for the mobilized and active financial superclass.

In the meantime

While we’re working on mobilizing to take back our democracy, we can start from the bottom up to “democratize wealth,” as both Piketty and Alperovitz say we must. Alperovitz puts less faith in top-down institutions than does Smith (the subtitle of What Then Shall We Do? is Straight Talk About the Next American Revolution ). He lays out bottom-up solutions already in practice across America that offer superior alternatives to the status quo. Here’s a sampling:

Worker ownership.

It’s not just little startups and co-ops. Alperovitz points to the company ranked 48th on the Forbes list of the largest U.S. private companies: Hy-Vee, a Midwestern supermarket chain that currently has more than 69,000 employees and more than $8 billion in sales, is owned by employees through a profit-sharing program. W.L. Gore & Associates, makers of Gore-Tex, has been owned since 1974 by its workers—currently more than 10,000 in 30 countries generating annual revenues of about $3 billion.

Already, some 11,000 companies employing 10.3 million people operate under such employee stock-ownership plans, with more forming regularly.

Social enterprises.

Pioneer Human Services, in Seattle, is a textbook example of this model, a form of democratized ownership that uses the money it earns as well as the enterprises it creates to achieve broader social purposes. According to Alperovitz, a large portion of Pioneer’s $67 million annual budget comes from businesses it created. The organization produces thousands of machined parts for Boeing, caters more then 1,500 meals a day for hospitals and other facilities, and employs almost 1,000 people usually classified as impaired or unemployable. Pioneer is but one of many such social enterprises doing good and democratizing wealth.

Traditional co-ops.

Alperovitz says that more than 130 million Americans—more than 40 percent of the population—belong to one or more co-ops. Not just food co-ops but also agricultural co-ops, electric co-ops, insurance co-ops, retail co-ops (such as REI) and retailer-owned co-ops (such as ACE Hardware), health care co-ops, high-technology industry co-ops, artist co-ops, and credit unions. The Alliance to Develop Power, in Western Massachusetts, has developed what Alperovitz calls an $80 million “community economy” of housing co-ops and other cooperatively controlled businesses.

Community development corporations.

Almost 5,000 such organizations now operate in larger U.S. cities. These primarily incubate small businesses and develop low-income housing. In Newark, Alperovitz says, the New Community Corporation employs about 600 neighborhood residents, manages 2,000 housing units, and has built up $500 million in assets. Profits from its businesses, which include a shopping center, help support day-care and afterschool programs and a nursing home.

Land trusts.

Hundreds of these exist today, both urban and rural. By taking land out of the speculative market and democratizing ownership, such nonprofits prevent gentrification and support low- and moderate-income housing with development profits. By 2012, Alperovitz says, 255 land trusts were operating in 45 states and the District of Columbia.

Government-owned and operated businesses.

Today, more than 50 percent of cities larger than 100,000 are making municipal equity investments in local business. Now is the time, Alperovitz says, to expand these investments to co-ops, employee-owned businesses, social enterprises, and nonprofit land development. “If you’re going to get serious about systemic change—not just ‘projects’—you’re ultimately going to have to consider what government does,” he says, “and how it can be used to further the vision and the model you affirm.”

Already forms of this are happening from Cleveland to San Diego. One of the first was Boston, which in 1976 renovated historic Fanueil Hall, transforming it into Faneuil Hall Marketplace, a downtown retail center with 49 shops, 18 restaurants and pubs, and 44 pushcarts. Instead of turning things over to its joint-venture partner, Rouse Company, the city kept the property under municipal ownership and took profits in lieu of property taxes from Rouse. The strategy earned the city 40 percent more revenue that it would have collected in taxes.

Another example: More and more cities are building—and owning—hotels and using the profits to shore up their emaciated budgets. Dallas, Texas, not known for left-wing collectivism, opened the city-owned $500 million, 23-story, 1001-room Omni Dallas Hotel in 2011.

Transform too-big-to-fail-banks,

and other private corporations that teeter on insolvency, into public utilities. The next time Bank of America’s risky scams threaten to implode the world’s economy, Alperovitz says we should bail out the bank—and assume public ownership of the corporation. If that idea seems radical, it arose from the militantly conservative economists of the Chicago School of Economics during the Great Depression.

“Every industry should be either effectively competitive or socialized,” wrote Harry C. Simon, one of the school’s revered thinkers. Simon and seven of his conservative colleagues proposed a “Chicago Plan” that called for public ownership of Federal Reserve Banks, nationalizing the creation of money, and turning private banks into highly restricted savings-and-loan associations.

Or, in Alperovitz’s 21st century version, “Take them over; turn them into public utilities.”

Need for strategy

Plenty of other ideas for democratizing wealth exist now, all of which can start small and scale up to large, even national enterprises that provide wellpaying jobs. But, Alperovitz cautions, “What hasn’t happened yet is that people haven’t seen this change strategically; they’re mainly developing ‘projects’—and I think the next level will be when people begin to realize that this could be a powerful strategy, not just for building a movement, but actually for building political power.”

At the moment corporations “certainly have the power. But I’m a historian; I think in decades,” he says, “not months. Power comes and goes. It could take 20, even 50 years,” adding that in the face of so much money and corporate power “it might not be possible to change the system.

“Or,” he adds, after a perfectly timed pause, “as in the case of ending apartheid; as in the case of the American Revolution; as in the case of the French Revolution; as in the case of the women’s revolution; as in the case of the fall of communism—building from the bottom up, over time, is actually how you transform systems.”

Land Ownership 

1. Indigenous land sovereignty

The world is watching as historic land reforms on the Pacific Island nation of Vanuatu show how to return land sovereignty to indigenous people. The decade-long effort led by Ralph Regenvanu, leader of the Land and Justice Party, is returning control of lands to “customary owners.” More than 80 percent of land in Vanuatu is considered customary: owned by extended families as custodians for future generations.

2. Agroecology, not chemicals

Instead of single crops and fossil fuel-based amendments, agroecology relies on complex natural systems to do a better job: Bean crops that help soil retain nitrogen are rotated with other crops. Farm animal waste is used as fertilizer. Flowers attract beneficial insects to manage pests. Intensive planting of diverse crops requires less water and helps keep weeds under control. 

3. Carbon sequestration

A benefit of soil regeneration practices, which make soils more fertile and resilient to land degradation, is that carbon from the atmosphere is captured in soil and plant biomass. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change says carbon sequestration accounts for 90 percent of global agricultural mitigation potential by 2030.

4. Resilient polyculture

After Hurricane Ike hit Cuba in 2008, researchers found polyculture plantain farms had fewer losses than monoculture farms. In general, strongly integrated agroecological farms sprang back to full production two months sooner than conventional farms.

Seeds 

5. Open source seeds

The Open Source Seed Initiative was created by plant breeders, farmers, and seed companies as an alternative to patent-protected seeds sold by agricultural giants such as Monsanto. Its goal is to make seeds a common good again, equipping new crop varieties with an open source license. This allows farmers to save and trade seeds and develop their own hybrids for climate adaptation.

6. Genetic diversity

Traditional plant varieties are more adaptive than modern hybrids. In Peru, six Quechua communities form the ANDES Potato Park project, which holds about 1,500 varieties of cultivated potatoes. The project not only models seed diversity conservation, but also studies the traditional knowledge, practices, and spiritual beliefs that nurture those resources. 

7. Better pay

Agroecology requires skilled labor, yet the worst-paying jobs in the U.S. are in the food system. This makes food and farm labor a poverty issue. Food service jobs are held primarily by women and people of color, making it a social justice issue. Policies addressing these issues would increase wages—which the Fight for $15 campaign wants—protect field workers from harmful chemicals, and treat the migrant labor force fairly.

8. Valuing traditional knowledge

Scientists in Latin America are tapping traditional farmers for their expertise. “Campesino a Campesino” —translated as “peasant to peasant”—is the cultural model of knowledge dissemination throughout Latin America. Farmers sharing their results and ideas have helped to spread agroecological practices.

Distribution 

9. Regional food hubs

Will we quit flying out-of-season produce around the world? Australia’s Food Connect program delivers ecologically and ethically produced fruits and vegetables, dairy products, and bakery items from local farmers to consumer hubs. In Brisbane, door-to-door travel must be no farther than 250 miles, and farmers are paid four times what they would get from big grocery chains.

10. Accessibility, affordability

Low-income people are a large and ready market for farmers. Programs like Double Up Food Bucks make SNAP benefits worth double at farmers markets. In 2013, more than 10,000 first-time SNAP customers in Michigan used farmers markets.

Diet

11. Eat together

Considering the energy used in daily cooking for 7 billion people, collective cooking and eating should be a goal. Not only does it cost less carbon per plate, but research also shows that where eating is a social activity, people are healthier.

12. A plate full of plants

Blue Hill chef Dan Barber, author of The Third Plate and known for his work to use less carbon in the production and serving of his food, argues that our standard plate of dinner should shift from a slab of protein with a side of vegetables to a plate full of seasonal vegetables with perhaps meat in a seasoning or a sauce. Some 30 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions is from industrial agriculture, including deforestation to support livestock.

13. Waste nothing

Total land needed to grow feed just for Europe’s pork industry is the size of Ireland. The U.K.-based Pig Idea campaign encourages feeding leftover catering food to pigs because 40 percent of what farms produce is wasted. Also, the Gleaning Network has in the past four years rescued more than 288 metric tons of produce in Great Britain.

It helped that in Persian culture we had ceremonies to turn to. We clung to 3,500-year-old Zoroastrian ceremonies that correspond to the seasons. Several of these rituals take place during the spring because the equinox marks the Persian New Year. Besides a thorough spring cleaning, we jump over a bonfire to cleanse our inner landscape and give our maladies to fire and gain vitality from it. On the longest night of the year, winter solstice, we stay up all night eating fruits and nuts, reciting poetry, playing music, and dancing. This is to symbolize survival and celebration during dark times.

Rituals, which are a series of actions performed in a specific way, have been part of human existence for thousands of years. They are not habits. According to research psychologist Nick Hobson, a habit鈥檚 inherent goal is different from a ritual鈥檚. With habit, the actions and behaviors are causally tied to the desired outcome; for example, brushing our teeth to prevent cavities and gum disease and exercising to keep healthy. Rituals, on the other hand, are 鈥済oal demoted,鈥� which means that their actions have no instrumental connection to the outcome. For example, we sing 鈥淗appy Birthday鈥� to the same melody even though it isn鈥檛 tied to a specific external result.

Cristine Legare, a researcher and psychology professor at the University of Texas at Austin, says, 鈥淩ituals signify transition points in the individual life span and provide psychologically meaningful ways to participate in the beliefs and practices of the community.鈥� They have been instrumental in building community, promoting cooperation, and marking transition points in a community member鈥檚 life. And as strange as rituals might be from a logical perspective, they have evolved as distinct features of human culture.

While it鈥檚 not clear exactly how they help, rituals reduce anxiety, improve performance and confidence, and even work on people who don鈥檛 believe in them, research shows. In a University of Toronto study, participants who performed a ritual before completing a task exhibited less anxiety and sensitivity to personal failure than when they completed the task without first performing the ritual.

Additionally, rituals benefit our physical well-being and immune system. According to Andrew Newberg, the associate director of research at the Marcus Institute of Integrative Health, rituals lower cortisol, which in turn lowers heart rate and blood pressure and increases immune system function.

We live amid a loneliness epidemic where the lack of belonging and community has been linked to high suicide rates and an increased sense of despair. The United States has one of the worst work-life balance scores in the world, while more Americans have become disillusioned with organized religion, as a broad and rapidly rising demographic consider themselves spiritual but not religious. Perhaps with fewer opportunities for people to be in community, many shared cultural rituals are falling away and with them a grounding source for connection and mental health.

鈥淲e are an intensely social and ritualistic species.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

In Iran during the war, we found uses for rituals when we were faced with food rations. We gathered family and friends, reciting the ancient story of the poor abused girl who had run away from home and had a vision of being visited by three celestial bibis (matrons). The bibis instructed her to make a sweet halva and donate it to the poor. The girl said she didn鈥檛 have any money, and the bibis told her to borrow or work for the ingredients. This worked well with food rations as each guest brought a few ingredients to make the halva. Like the girl in the story, each participant made a wish and took a bite of the halva. I walked away feeling calmer and more supported.

Stories, such as those told during the Jewish ceremony of Passover Seder, have become ritualized because they are recited in the same way each time. Rhythm and music play a similar role in ritual. Whether we鈥檙e chanting in Sanskrit or singing the national anthem, 鈥渙ur brains tend to resonate with those around us, so if everyone is doing the same dance, hymn, or prayer, all of those brains are working in the same way,鈥� Newberg explains. 鈥淭his can engender a powerful feeling of connectedness. It also reduces stress and depression through a combination of effects on the autonomic nervous system, which is ultimately connected to the emotional areas of the brain鈥攖he limbic system.鈥� According to one study, chanting the Sanskrit syllable 鈥渙m鈥� deactivates the limbic system, softening the edge of fear, anxiety, and depression.

Psychologist Hobson confirms that rituals aren鈥檛 just a benefit to our mental health鈥攖hey鈥檙e actually essential. 鈥淲e are an intensely social and ritualistic species,鈥� he says. 鈥淭ake this piece out of our modern human narrative and you lose a piece of our history and our humanity.鈥�

I moved to the U.S. when I was 14. After living here for two decades, I became a mother and was confronted with the phrase, 鈥淚t takes a village to raise a child.鈥� But where was that mythical village and the rituals that made it sane? For example, a pregnant woman in Iran had a rotating menu of dishes made for her by friends and family. A new mother was surrounded by people who took turns assisting with daily tasks. But in the U.S., she was expected to fend for herself and her baby immediately after childbirth. I observed that besides standard holiday traditions, community-building practices were lacking. 

So after 20 years of living in the U.S., I decided to create my own community rituals.

I started with my family. At dinners we banned books and devices, lit candles, and discussed set topics of conversation. We held weekly family meetings with opening and closing ceremonies and used a talking stick to enforce respectful communication. At birthday dinners, we took turns saying, 鈥淚 love you because 鈥︹��

Candlelit dinners were no longer saved for a special occasion. Using a talking stick helped me listen more attentively and choose my words more carefully. Huddling together at the end of each family meeting provided me with a sense of accomplishment. Each ritual, no matter how small, anchored me in something bigger and provided a sense of belonging.

Then we began to build rituals within the larger community. First, we hosted a multigenerational Sunday potluck with friends and family. Each week, five to 10 of us gathered, shared food, and recounted what made us grateful. During each meal, I noticed I was lighter, more engaged with others, and laughed more.

Later, we built more community rituals into the week. I posted on Nextdoor, asking our neighbors to join us on Monday evening walks to the neighborhood park and back.

In this age of isolation, we need nourishing and uplifting means of creating community by bringing together members of different generations as our ancestors did. From my experience in Iran, rituals can be particularly valuable during hard times. In the U.S., we don鈥檛 have to worry about bombs and food rations, but we still have challenges to our security that affect our mental and physical health. Rituals can help us, though, by offering our communities opportunities for healing and support.

The mood at kitchen tables in California in the early 1930s was as bleak as it was elsewhere in the United States. Factories were closed. More than a quarter of the breadwinners in the state were out of work. There were no federal or state relief programs, nothing but some local charity—in Los Angeles County, a family of four got about 50 cents a day, and only 1 in 10 got even that.

Not long before, America had been a farming nation. When times were tough, there was still the land. But the country was becoming increasingly urban. People were dependent on this thing called “the economy” and the financial casino to which it was yoked. When the casino crashed, there was no fallback, just destitution. Except for one thing: The real economy was still there—paralyzed but still there. Farmers still were producing, more than they could sell. Fruit rotted on trees, vegetables in the fields. In January 1933, dairymen poured more than 12,000 gallons of milk into the Los Angeles city sewers every day.

The factories were there, too. Machinery was idle. Old trucks were in side lots, needing only a little repair. All that capacity, on the one hand, legions of idle men and women on the other. It was the financial casino that had failed, not the workers and machines. On street corners and around bare kitchen tables, people started to put two and two together. More precisely, they thought about new ways of putting two and two together.

Building a reciprocal economy

In the spring of 1932, in Compton, California, an unemployed World War I veteran walked out to the farms that still ringed Los Angeles. He offered his labor in return for a sack of vegetables, and that evening he returned with more than his family needed. The next day a neighbor went out with him to the fields. Within two months 500 families were members of the Unemployed Cooperative Relief Organization.

That group became one of 45 units in an organization that served the needs of some 150,000 people.

It operated a large warehouse, a distribution center, a gas and service station, a refrigeration facility, a sewing shop, a shoe shop, even medical services, all on cooperative principles. Members were expected to work two days a week, and benefits were allocated according to need. A member with a wife and two kids got four times as much food as someone living alone. The organization was run democratically, and social support was as important as material support. Members helped one another resist evictions; sometimes they moved a family back in after a landlord had put them out. Unemployed utility workers turned on gas and electricity for families that had been cut off.

Conventional histories present the Depression as a story of the corporate market, foiled by its own internal flaws, versus the federal government, either savvy mechanic or misguided klutz, depending on your view. The government ascended, in the form of the New Deal; and so was born the polarity of our politics—and the range of our economic possibilities—ever since.

Yet there was another story, too. It embodied the trusty American virtues of initiative, responsibility, and self-help, but in a way that was grounded in community and genuine economy. This other story played out all over the U.S. for a brief but suggestive moment in the early 1930s.

The UCRO was just one organization in one city. Groups like it ultimately involved more than 1.3 million people, in more than 30 states. It happened spontaneously, without experts or blueprints. Most of the participants were blue-collar workers whose formal schooling had stopped at high school. Some groups evolved a kind of money to create more flexibility in exchange. An example was the Unemployed Exchange Association, or UXA, based in Oakland, California. (The UXA story was told in an excellent article in the weekly East Bay Express in 1983, on which the following paragraphs are based.) UXA began in a Hooverville (an encampment of the poor during the Depression, so-called after the president) called “Pipe City,” near the East Bay waterfront. Hundreds of homeless people were living there in sections of large sewer pipe that were never laid because the city ran out of money. Among them was Carl Rhodehamel, a musician and engineer.

Rhodehamel and others started going door to door in Oakland, offering to do home repairs in exchange for unwanted items. They repaired these and circulated them among themselves. Soon they established a commissary and sent scouts around the city and into the surrounding farms to see what they could scavenge or exchange labor for. Within six months, they had 1,500 members and a thriving subeconomy that included a foundry and machine shop, wood shop, garage, soap factory, print shop, wood lot, ranches, and lumber mills. They rebuilt 18 trucks from scrap. At UXA’s peak, it distributed 40 tons of food a week.

It all worked on a time-credit system. Each hour worked earned a hundred points; there was no hierarchy of skills, and all work paid the same. Members could use credits to buy food and other items at the commissary—medical and dental services, haircuts, and more. A council of some 45 coordinators met regularly to solve problems and discuss opportunities.

One coordinator might report that a saw needed a new motor. Another knew of a motor, but the owner wanted a piano in return. A third member knew of a piano that was available. And on and on. It was an amalgam of enterprise and cooperation—the flexibility and hustle of the market, but without the encoded greed of the corporation or the stifling bureaucracy of the state. The economics texts don’t really have a name for it. The members called it a “reciprocal economy.”

The dream fades

It would seem that a movement that provided livelihood for more than 300,000 people in California alone would merit discussion in the history books. Amidst the floundering of the early 1930s, this was something that actually worked. Yet in most accounts, the self-help co-ops get barely a line.

The one exception is Upton Sinclair’s campaign for governor in 1934. Sinclair was a kind of Ralph Nader of his day. He based his campaign on a plan he called End Poverty in California, or EPIC, which was based in turn on the self-help cooperatives, UXA in particular. It would have taken the state’s idle farmland and factories and turned them into worker co-ops.

The idea of a genuine economy shorn of Wall Street contrivance touched a chord. Some 2,000 EPIC clubs sprang up. Sinclair won the Democratic primary, but California’s moneyed establishment mustered $10 million dollars to pummel him. EPIC died with his campaign, and the idea has been associated with quixotic politics ever since.

To say UXA and the other cooperative economies faced challenges is to put it mildly. They were going against the grain of an entire culture. Anti-communist “Red Squads” harassed them, while radicals complained they were too practical and not sufficiently committed to systemic change.

But the main thing that killed the co-ops was the Works Progress Administration and its cash jobs. Those WPA jobs were desperately needed. But some of them were make-work, while the co-op work was genuinely productive.

The co-ops pleaded with FDR’s Administration to include them in the WPA. Local governments were helping with gasoline and oil. But the New Dealers weren’t interested, and the co-ops melted away. For years they were period pieces, like soup lines and Okies.

Or so it seemed.

Today, the signs of financial and ecological collapse are mounting. We are strung out on foreign debt and foreign oil and riding real estate inflation that won’t last forever. Add the impending collapse of the natural life support system, and the 1930s could seem benign by comparison.

In this setting, the economics of self-help are increasingly relevant. The possibility of creating such an economy, though, might seem remote. In the 1930s, there still were farms on the outskirts of cities—family operations that could make barter deals on the spot. Factories were nearby, too. Products were simple and made to last, and so could be scavenged and repaired.

All that has changed. The factories are in China, the farms are owned by corporations, and you can’t walk to them from Los Angeles anymore. Products are made to break; the local repair shop is a distant memory. Hypersophisticated technology has put local mechanics out of business, let alone backyard tinkerers.

An idea resurfaces

Yet there are trends on the other side as well. Energy technology is moving back to the local level, by way of solar, wind, biodiesel, and the rest. The popularity of organics has given a boost to smaller farms. There’s also the quiet revival of urban agriculture. Community gardens are booming—some 6,000 of them in 38 U.S. cities. In Boston, the Food Project produces over 120,000 pounds of vegetables on just 21 acres. Then consider the unused land in U.S. cities: some 70,000 vacant parcels in Chicago, 31,000 in Philadelphia.

Large swaths of Detroit look like Dresden after the firebombing. A UXA could do a lot with that. I’m not getting gauzy here. Anyone who has been part of a co-op—I once served on the board of one—knows it is not a walk in the park. But it is not hard to see the stirrings of a new form of cooperative economics on the American scene today. You can’t explain Linux, the computer operating system developed community-style on the web, by the tenets of the economics texts. Nor can you so explain Craigslist, the online bulletin board that people use at no or minimal cost.

The cooperative model seems to defy what economists call “economic law”—that people work only for personal gain and in response to schemes of personal incentive and reward. Yet the Depression co-ops did happen. When the next crash comes, the self-help movement of the 1930s may be just as important a model as the New Deal.

Today’s best ideas are often to be found among those rejected in the past. “We are not going back to barter,” Carl Rhodehamel of UXA once said. “We are going forward into barter. We are feeling our way along, developing a new science.”

Why vote if you hate everything on the ballot? Elections are about more than the candidates. They’re about voters, too, and what issues they think deserve attention. Here are five reasons to voice those issues with a vote.

1. People who vote the least have the most to lose this election.

Latinos and Asian Americans are voting at historically high rates, but those rates are still low. In the 2012 election, Asian Americans voted at a rate of 47 percent and Latinos at 48 percent, while African Americans voted at a rate of 66 percent, slightly above Whites at 64 percent. Together, Latinos and Asian Americans make up the majority of the U.S. immigrant population, the main target of Trump’s proposals to deport children of undocumented immigrants, even if the children are U.S. citizens by birth.

The deportation of U.S. birthright citizens isn’t likely, says Faye Hipsman, an associate policy analyst at the Migration Policy Institute, but another Trump proposal is: ending the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, which protects from deportation those U.S. immigrants who arrived as children.

2. If you’re not down with a President Trump or President Clinton, there is always a third party.

Do third-party votes matter? It’s complicated.

In 1992, Ross Perot won nearly 19 percent of the popular vote running as an independent candidate. That was nearly 20 million votes—plenty, but not enough to win an election. Some claim this cost Republican candidate George H.W. Bush a second term. Eight years later, Republican George W. Bush beat Democrat Al Gore. Gore won the popular vote but lost the electoral vote by five votes. The third-party candidate, Ralph Nader, was blamed. He gathered nearly 3 million votes, which some argue would have gone to Gore. Then again, if Nader—or Perot—hadn’t been on the ballot, maybe their supporters wouldn’t have voted at all.

Voting is personal. People vote because they want to give voice to their beliefs.

Political activist Angela Davis told Democracy Now! in March that she had never voted for a candidate from either of the two major parties until Barack Obama. For her, electing the nation’s first Black president was personal, as were her previous boycotts of the two major parties.

3. Voting—in high or low numbers—can have serious consequences.

The past two Obama elections show what’s possible when people of color come out to vote—even though they made up only about 27 percent of all voters nationwide for each election. The Pew Research Center points out that if it weren’t for his non-White constituency, Obama would have likely lost re-election in 2012, when 59 percent of White voters sided with Mitt Romney.

Why don’t people vote? Let’s look back, all the way to the 19th century.

In 1896, Republican William McKinley defeated Democrat William Jennings Bryan in an election that introduced many modern campaign techniques: cross-country speeches, extensive fundraising, and polling to target specific voters. Voter turnout before and during that election hovered around 80 percent; afterward, it averaged only 65 percent.

Historian Mark Kornbluh, in his 2000 book Why America Stopped Voting: The Decline of Participatory Democracy and the Emergence of Modern American Politics, blames a changing American culture. Politics lost its “entertainment value” as sports and theater hit the mainstream. Spectacle-style campaigns replaced participatory-style campaigns that invited the public to shape a candidate’s platform. Kornbluh theorizes that voters grew disinterested when they felt unnecessary to a campaign.

4. Let them know you exist and that you’re not satisfied—write in a name.

At the 2015 Equity Summit, Linda Sarsour, executive director of the Arab American Association of New York, spoke to people of color. “If voting didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be trying to take your right to vote away from you,” she said. If you don’t like the candidates, write in someone else, even your mother, Sarsour said. “The idea is to be counted.” Her argument is that people need to show up if they want politicians and decision-makers to listen to them. This is especially true for low-income people. In 2012, only 1 in 4 voters earning less than $10,000 turned out. When these citizens don’t cast votes, their views remain un- or misrepresented.

At least seven write-in candidates have made it to Congress, including South Carolina Republican Strom Thurmond in his first bid for the U.S. Senate.

5. Consider all the people who have an important opinion but can’t vote.

Some people can’t vote because their local laws require strict identification that they won’t have in time for Election Day or because their work schedules are so demanding they can’t take off five hours to wait in line. Shorter early-voting periods in states like Georgia and North Carolina also create obstacles for people. And some can’t vote because they aren’t naturalized citizens (even if they’ve spent most of their lives in the United States) or because a criminal record prevents them. Some 5.8 million Americans cannot vote because of a past felony conviction.

Americans are free to do as they please, and voting won’t solve the nation’s problems. But it’s a start—especially in this election, when the security of so many is at stake.

But on this day in question, I was defending my marijuana use to my increasingly worried parents. I was 22 and smoking enough weed daily to make Seth Rogen blanch. But I was doing it for the same reason that has driven the legalization of medical cannabis in 37 states: It made me feel better, just short of good. My struggle, mostly with benzodiazepines, left me living in such a sickly state that cannabis was one of the few surefire cures for feeling like I was five nights into a weeklong tequila bender every day of my life.

Of course, most people didn鈥檛 want to hear my excuse. They simply didn鈥檛 understand me, as if I was trying to convince them that coffee made me sleepy. Weed is a drug, after all. And my pills were prescribed by a psychiatrist鈥攃learly that made them a positive part of my life. On the other hand, my parents, and many others as well, insisted weed was bad, end of discussion, and I needed to stop smoking it that instant.

There鈥檚 a word for when the enforced sensitivity around a topic allows, or even encourages, truth to be replaced with a comfortable fiction, when ignorant silence is elevated over the freedom of nuanced thought and shame is substituted for support. That word is stigma. And nowhere is it more alive than in the way we talk about drug use and treat drug users.

Without knowing its name, I wrestled with stigma for years during my struggles with substance misuse, and I continue to wrestle with it today as an out-in-the-open drug user and someone who educates on the topics of drug use and addiction. Stigma is even present in the world of recovery; too often, people like me鈥攊n recovery from a struggle with a particular substance but not completely sober鈥攁re regarded as 鈥渘ot in recovery鈥� by purists and looked down on as liars. But the bigger issue remains: 12 years into recovery from my pill addiction, what has always stayed with me is that startling contradiction between how those in my life regarded my use of pharmaceuticals versus cannabis. 

Over the last decade-plus, this paradox has become even more mainstream. We鈥檝e had an abundance of stories highlighting the dangers in over-prescribing pills, especially opioids, without properly educating patients on the possible negative effects of pharmaceutical use. We鈥檝e even had this genuine concern inflated into a good ol鈥� fashioned moral panic, one whose name, the 鈥渙pioid crisis,鈥� is on the lips of every soccer mom and sheriff in the country. 

This particular moral panic has thrived despite the fact that our hardworking drug use and addiction researchers and advocates agree that this is, in fact, an , of which opioids are merely one factor, and referring to the entire thing as the 鈥渙pioid crisis鈥� is akin to calling a sandwich 鈥渂read.鈥� It鈥檚 a convenient oversimplification, which isn鈥檛 surprising; as with every moral panic, we love to reduce complex problems to a single scapegoat.

But what really gets me is how infrequently I鈥檝e heard anyone, from boardrooms to the halls of Congress, say those three words that all of us who suffered the consequences of their recklessness long to hear: 鈥淚 was wrong.鈥� And I count myself among those who have been wronged by the system, not just because of my struggle with addiction, but also because of my repeated experiences with our justice system over the same pleasure-inducing plant that is now . 

You鈥檇 think, given that glaring paradox, that we鈥檇 have heard numerous apologies, even the surface-level political kind. Alas, we have not. Somehow, we went from Reefer Madness to , while Big Pharma stole Big Tobacco鈥檚 Public Enemy No. 1 crown and ran with it to even higher levels of moral panic. 

In fact, while legal cannabis has become a $30 billion industry in the U.S. alone, (largely the same men who would have called me a junkie 12 years ago). Meanwhile, arrests for drugs have roughly stayed the same over the past decade, and those arrested are disproportionately people of color. As an experienced drug user and someone who used to struggle with addiction, I recognize this sort of high-chasing behavior exhibited by our criminal justice system all too well. 

The stigma around drug use, however, is seen just as clearly outside its criminal justice and business implications. Even now, the word 鈥減leasure鈥� and its attached significance are conspicuously absent from our conversations around drugs. While we debate the merits of regulating opioid prescriptions and the many successful campaigns to legalize drugs for therapeutic use, the simple and all-too-human use of drugs for their ecstasy-inducing quality is relegated to the underground, a space reserved for hippies, scofflaws, and everyone in between. While a vast majority of people who use drugs do so for pleasure, they have no seat at the table where decisions are made about their acceptable use. 

Why is that? In a society where death-defying activity is, while maybe not commonplace, at least accepted in recreational pursuits like bungee jumping, skydiving, and other extreme activities, and inviting bodily harm is appreciated as entertainment in sport (MMA, NASCAR, NFL), admitting something so banal as finding pleasure in drug use is oddly regarded as taboo, akin to inviting your in-laws to a nudist retreat. And it鈥檚 been that way since the late 19th century, when a concerted effort began to connect certain drugs and their use to people deemed undesirable鈥攏amely, people of color and immigrants. 

Naturally the substances preferred by the ruling class weren鈥檛 subjected to these policies born of racism and lies, which is why breweries remain popular (more on that in a minute) and you can buy a pack of cigarettes at the bodega on the corner. Meanwhile, it鈥檚 easier to believe the idea that drugs like heroin and meth can never be enjoyed safely, despite repeated showing that safe use is indeed possible. A few recent bestselling books have attempted to dispel these myths, including those by and the journalists and .

To be clear, it doesn鈥檛 have to be this way. In fact, there鈥檚 never been a better time to rip off the Band-Aid of our draconian drug policies and see them for what they are: untruths grounded in racism that do nothing to keep people safe and only serve to stigmatize those who use drugs鈥攂oth legal and illegal鈥攖o add pleasure to their lives. These are people like me and, if the statistics are to be believed, . 

Our bungling drug policies are, at this point, more than four generations old, and have included such performative and misguided educational programs as D.A.R.E. and Just Say No. It鈥檚 not surprising that it鈥檚 difficult for many of us to imagine any alternatives. We like to think that the United States sets the example and the rest of the world follows. While this is sometimes the truth, it鈥檚 not the case everywhere. In fact, when it comes to recognizing even the most basic humanity of people who choose to enjoy the pleasures of drug use, numerous countries long ago left us in the dust.

There are currently nearly (often called safe use sites) in 15 countries around the world, a figure that only recently expanded to include the first such facility in the U.S., OnPoint NYC, which opened in New York City in 2021. Famously, Portugal ; as a result, both its overdose rate and drug-related crime statistics fell precipitously. Further, Spain has never had any sort of widespread anti-drug laws, and, as Carl Hart reported in his book Drug Use for Grown-Ups: Chasing Liberty in the Land of Fear, its citizens are often puzzled by the ineffectual yet draconian policies of the U.S.

To use an example a bit closer to home, in 1917, the U.S. notoriously tried to eradicate its then-most-popular drug, alcohol, and saw catastrophic results, including a rise in organized crime and deaths from tainted bootleg products. In 1933, in a rare moment of radical honesty, we did something our country is downright rotten at: We admitted we鈥檇 made a mistake, and repealed the 18th Amendment with the 21st. Our great-grandparents took that profound step with humility and a desire to correct the wrongs of the past, which means we can too. But it won鈥檛 be easy.

We need to shake off our blinders and see the untruths, both intentional and unintentional, we鈥檝e swallowed wholesale over the years. We need to mindfully probe what we think we 鈥渒now鈥� about drugs and those who enjoy their use, just as I did when I was five years into recovery yet still found myself picturing the same harmful stereotype when someone said the word 鈥渁ddict.鈥� It will take us each accepting our own drug use, whether it鈥檚 marijuana, martinis, or meth, as the norm and not the exception. It will take us seeing the humanity in each other when we鈥檙e being taught to only see monsters. 

But there is hope, and we see it every day. It鈥檚 all around us, in our homes, on billboards, in commercials, and in recreational facilities all around the country. Even now, as I write this, I sit in what can easily be called a safe use site for a certain intoxicating and pleasure-inducing substance, a place that鈥檚 halfway up Atlantic Avenue, between Boerum Place and Court Street in Brooklyn. You wouldn鈥檛 know it鈥檚 a safe use site because there鈥檚 no wall of protesters outside. No members of the media have called the owner, asking him to respond to criticism that he鈥檚 just enabling drug users. There is government oversight, but it鈥檚 the kind that a simple form and knowing the right person can easily negotiate. And we even have a special name for these locations. We call them bars, an old English word that has long been associated with sin. 

Yes, alcohol has seen its fair share of stigma, but鈥攊n what gives hope to people like me who long for a future where drug users can emerge from the shadows鈥攖he stigma around this particular drug has ebbed over time, giving way to common sense: Keep it out of the hands of kids and those about to handle heavy machinery, but otherwise let people live and, as our founding document promises, pursue happiness. It鈥檚 moments like this, sitting here in this bar, that I dare to dream of a safer future for open drug users like myself. Maybe one day we, like the Dutch, can sit in a coffee shop and share a tea made from psilocybin mushrooms and experience the blissful pleasure that comes with that euphoric delight. What a day that will be. 

If we were not required to work to pay for basic rights, such as food, shelter, and water, could we embrace radical solutions to change the current state of our society?

As the post-pandemic struggle about work and working conditions rages on, workers are quitting jobs that make them miserable, while unions seek recognition and avenues for negotiations, all within our current capitalistic system that declares each individual鈥檚 worth to be inherently tied to their productivity. But what if society was not organized around wage labor, but something else? And what would that something else be?

Millions of workers left jobs in 2021 at such a scale it鈥檚 been deemed the 鈥淕reat Resignation.鈥� Recent attempts to understand their dissatisfaction have explored what the 鈥渇uture of work鈥� looks like and how work overall could become more bearable. How about a four-day work week? Or higher pay? Better working conditions? Flexible hours? But 32-hour weeks (or whatever good policy is on offer) are adaptations to a dehumanizing system鈥攖hey don鈥檛 address that system as a whole, nor do they get to the core of the workers鈥� discontent with the inhumane machinations of capitalism. 

Online, the rejection of the idea of work itself is a growing trend across social media platforms. On TikTok, about how the poster doesn鈥檛 like to work, no matter what job, often go viral. 鈥檚 message鈥斺�淔uck this, I don鈥檛 want to work for the rest of my life :(鈥濃�攔eceived thousands of likes and comments in agreement. On Twitter, where the constant barrage of negative news is constantly dissected and commented on, posters point out how capitalism keeps marching on despite the unconscionable tragedies we鈥檝e all had to digest in the past two and a half years. The pandemic, the Ukraine war, school shootings where children are massacred, continued police killings of Black people鈥攏one of these is enough to bring our exploitative system to a halt; workers are supposed to muddle through and keep the world turning with our labor. On Reddit, the (the r/antiwork subreddit) has 2 million subscribers who can easily access an online library about and exchange experiences with each other about the jobs they don鈥檛 want to do. The motto of this subreddit, whose members call themselves 鈥渋dlers,鈥� is 鈥淯nemployment for all, not just the rich!鈥�

Despite the online hype, the idea of refusing the tyranny of labor rather than reforming it isn鈥檛 new. In 1985, post-leftist anarchist Bob Black wrote and published the essay 鈥淭he Abolition of Work,鈥� where he argues that work 鈥渋s the source of nearly all the misery in the world. … In order to stop suffering, we have to stop working.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

For Black, working to earn a living is at the heart of capitalism鈥檚 coercive forces, and he asserts that society should be organized around play instead of wage labor. 鈥淚 think that what I wrote is still true and only slightly exaggerated,鈥� Black says. 鈥淎s I define the word, 鈥榳ork鈥� is forced labor鈥攃ompulsory production. It is inherently coercive, like the state.鈥�

Black says having to pay for housing, food, water, health care, and whatever else is needed for survival is what keeps workers under the control of wage labor, regardless of what ideology is elected into government. 鈥淭he most important function of work鈥攁s I have always maintained鈥攊s social control,鈥� Black explains. And yet, as Black writes in his essay as well as in his book, also titled The Abolition of Work, a disproportionate amount of what constitutes 鈥渨ork鈥� has little connection to human survival. Compiling work reports, filing meaningless corporate documentation, and inventing cryptocurrency are just a few examples of 鈥渨ork鈥� that do not aid the practical survival of humans. Abolishing work would free us to do what we really love and reorient human efforts toward care and the simple act of living. 

鈥淪ociety would be simpler [and] radically decentralized, yet people would be more diverse, more individualized, and so their social relations would be richer, more complex,鈥� Black says. 鈥淟ife would be safer, although maybe less orderly. But where order is necessary, it would be the order of custom, not the rule of law. There would be opportunities, beginning in childhood, for people to try out many different things and discover what things they can do that they like best. Maybe there will be some people who like doing the same thing all the time鈥攊n other words, doing a 鈥榡ob.鈥� These unfortunates, too, should be free to do what they want to do. This is a society that has no center.鈥�

The Anti-Work Response to the Girlboss

One example often used in support of anti-work arguments online is the alleged death of the 鈥済irlboss.鈥� The girlboss can be exemplified by Kim Kardashian, who models aspirational femininity and independent entrepreneurship that supposedly liberates women from gender oppression, even as she ends up reinforcing and repeating the same abuses she supposedly sought to eliminate. A combination of pandemic burnout, growing social awareness, and the emptiness of women 鈥渉aving it all鈥� in a broken economy has revealed the impact of the girlboss to be less than revolutionary. As Amanda Mull : 鈥淭he push to move beyond the girlboss is an acknowledgment that a slight expansion of college-educated women鈥檚 access to venture capital or mentoring opportunities was never a meaningful change to begin with, or an avenue via which meaningful change might be achieved. Being belittled, harassed, or denied fair pay by a woman doesn鈥檛 make the experience instructive instead of traumatic.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

In short, some overworked women are discovering that a seat at the table isn鈥檛 a path toward liberation鈥攔ather, it鈥檚 a path toward becoming an overworked cog in the machine.

The anti-girlboss sentiment is often articulated through memes that challenge the message that women should be doing it all. Instead, these memes argue for 鈥溾�� For Angie Barbosa, an anarcho-feminist travesti (a transfemme, nonbinary identity specific to Latin America) scholar who studies feminist, queer, and anarchist literature and activism, these memes are a countercurrent to the violence of feminized 鈥渉ustle鈥� culture. 

鈥淣ot only do women and femmes have to deal with violence, exploitation, overworking, and constant impairments against our autonomy, now we鈥檙e also supposed to struggle within a value system that asks us to be healthy, happy, confident, self-sufficient, self-caring, boundary-aware, independent consumers,鈥� Barbosa says. 鈥淲e are working endlessly, tirelessly to produce a performance of successful femininity that denies the soul-wrecking gendered reality of violence. We are overworked, exhausted, angry, frustrated, violenced, deprived of many of our basic rights, and somehow still expected to feel like a boss.鈥�

Adding to the burden of women and femmes is the unpaid labor of domestic work, which is still largely invisible and unaddressed by policies that attempt to make waged work more comfortable. Even with a flexible work schedule, domestic work is still low-paying and distributed along gendered lines.  

鈥淭he reality of care and work can be terribly exhausting for femmes, but the good news is that the more people, groups, and communities are caring for each other in balanced, consent- and autonomy-based structures, the less everyone has to work, and it just becomes easier to live,鈥� Barbosa says. 

Small feminist structures of care and radical solidarity are the counterpoint to the solitary and herculean work of the girlboss鈥攁苍d as such, the abolition of work must also reckon with the racialized and gendered distribution of domestic and care work. 鈥淚 believe that whether this future of femme freedom includes work or not depends on our reading of what 鈥榳ork鈥� means,鈥� Barbosa says.

A Great Transformation

Underlying the taboo around the abolition of work is the fear that the world won鈥檛 sustain itself if people are not coerced into performing tasks to ensure humanity鈥檚 survival. How would we eat if workers were not forced to grow food for themselves and to sell it to others for their own sustenance? How would we keep public spaces clean and usable without street sweepers and maintenance workers who need a paycheck to support themselves? How would we survive without the care work and domestic labor that the racialized working classes are compelled to provide below cost? Black believes that if the structure of work is abolished, people will be able to sustain themselves and take care of each other, but without coercion.

For practical thinkers, this reorganization sounds easier said than done. We have been manipulated into maintaining capitalism鈥攁苍d correlating this maintenance with our own survival鈥攆or so long that the idea of people working to help each other survive sounds improbable and impossible. What would we get in exchange for our selfless efforts to maintain each other鈥檚 existence? What would be the trade-off, if not money? Self-sustaining societies鈥攕uch as the Zapatistas in Mexico, who have organized their own cooperative economy; developed autonomous justice, education, and health care systems; and created a bottom-up political decision-making process鈥攁re proof we can lasso the abolition of work to the possibilities of reality.  

鈥淲e need to transform everything,鈥� Black says. 鈥淚n my utopia there would be little coercion, and no institutionalized coercion such as government and work. Some activities, including some of what used to be 鈥榳ork,鈥� are likely to be done in relatively permanent organizations鈥攁苍d there is some risk in that. Work like that, when it is not individual craft work, can be organized by worker self-management.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

For Barbosa, the abolition of work and redistribution of domestic work is an invitation to rethink what we value in our lives. 鈥淚f the meaning of our lives was no longer to work, it could be a genuine and deep connection to each other, our bodies, and our environment,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 interesting that removing work from the equation makes a lot of our current definitions of success and happiness quite meaningless. It could be very powerful to imagine what happiness could be if it鈥檚 not just survival, success, capital. If we didn鈥檛 have to fight for the basics, I really have no idea what we should or could do instead, but I would love to find out.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

But in 2000, Drug Enforcement Administration agents raided the reservation and seized White Plume鈥檚 crop. In fact, there were several raids on his crop between 2000 and 2002. Two years later, he was ordered to stop growing. In 2016, the federal ban was lifted and in 2017, White Plume to make hemp supplements. He鈥檚 just beginning again. 

Not surprisingly, White Plume feels a bit resentful of the profits being made in what鈥檚 now become a largely White-dominated industry, while his tribe had to sit on the sidelines.

But the potential for Native people to benefit economically in the hemp industry still exists.

Now White Plume is involved in processing hemp and plans to make a vertically integrated Lakota industry. He envisions a sustainable industry that will create high-paying jobs and bring in a steady stream of income for Lakota tribes.听

鈥淭his is going to be all Lakota hemp, grown on Lakota [land], produced by Lakota, and we鈥檙e going to market it by Lakota,鈥� White Plume says.

The hemp world is changing. 

With 10,000 uses, hemp is one of the most versatile plants to grow鈥攁苍d in many ways can be a catalyst for change for Native peoples. We see a New Green Revolution in Indian Country, tied to justice, economics, restoration ecology, and a return-to-the-land movement, and it鈥檚 growing.

Just last year, the Fort Berthold Reservation, Colorado River tribes, Iowa Tribe (Kansas and Nebraska), Yurok, Sisseton and Santee Dakotas, to name a few, all got their hemp plans approved by the USDA, but more than that, tribal growers and thinkers are considering hemp as part of the future for Indian Country. And young leaders such as Muriel Young Bear, a Meskwaki woman from Iowa, and Marcus Grignon鈥攁 Menominee and project director at Hempstead Project HEART, a John Trudell initiative鈥攔epresent a new wave of commitment.听 听

Hemp Is the Way

With having either legalized, decriminalized, or medicalized marijuana, we鈥檙e experiencing a renaissance moment of cannabis, including hemp鈥攊ts non-psychoactive relative. And it鈥檚 about time. In , hemp will be foundational to the just transition, or the New Green Revolution. 

Let me explain. 

In the 20th century, Norman Borlaug, called the Father of the Green Revolution, gave us advanced agricultural technology, including genetically modified plants. It鈥檚 been said that the United States had a choice between a carbohydrate economy and a hydrocarbon economy鈥攁苍 economy that depends on petroleum, coal, and natural gas. As I鈥檝e written before, our current health, economic, and climate crises have proven we made the wrong choice.  

The carbohydrate economy is one based on plants. Hemp grows easily; it is resilient and doesn鈥檛 require huge amounts of chemicals or water, although there are specific soil requirements for it to grow. It can be foundational to such an economy.   

For the past five years, I鈥檝e been a hemp farmer, with permits from the state of Minnesota. My business is called Winona鈥檚 Hemp, and our research partner is Anishinaabe Agriculture. In 2020, we grew 20 acres of fiber hemp, and are working with that hemp to create a local economy. We send off our high-quality, field-retted hemp to processors to make cloth for canvas textiles. Our plan is to restore a hemp economy without a lot of chemicals and fossil fuels. The traditional history of hemp is without fossil fuels. We鈥檇 like to do as much to restore that practice as possible鈥攆ocused on appropriate technology, equity, and innovation.听

Our focus has been in fiber varieties, with an interest in reducing any fossil fuel use in production and in processing. We鈥檝e sourced varieties from Canada and Europe, with the help of Patagonia and our friends at the Lift Economy. We grew those seeds in fields on and around the White Earth Reservation. We did our best to plant with organic fertilizers, using fish emulsion and horse manure to build our soils. We learned from our experience and by talking to as many folks as possible.  

That said, we have a lot of experience here in small field crops, horse cultivation, and traditional varieties. We grew in small plots, hand seeded, and in a larger 20-acre plot, mechanically harvested with 40-year-old equipment.听

We also put in a field with horses because some of our partnerships here involve not only our horse-drawn agriculture, but also those of our Amish neighbors. We鈥檝e come to collaborate, as we have similar interests in terms of technology and geography.听

We provided seeds to tribes throughout the region, all interested in the same questions: How do you grow it? And, what can you do with it? 

What we found is that the plant will teach you: Don鈥檛 be in a rush. We are re-creating an industry from the seed to the product鈥攚hether smokable or for manufacturing. Some tribes are looking at materials processing鈥攃ar parts, bags, etc.鈥攐thers are looking at hempcrete, an improvement on concrete because of its sustainability and the fact that it is a carbon sink.

There鈥檚 a lot of room in the New Green Revolution. After all, if you are going to change the materials economy鈥攚ell, the whole economy鈥攜ou will need a lot of producers and also some folks in manufacturing. That鈥檚 the goal. Indeed, if hemp鈥檚 potential is realized, we can transform the materials economy, and that鈥檚 revolutionary. That鈥檚 our work now, to investigate, vet, and find technologies and economic models that can be replicated. 

And though tribes have been reluctant to get into the hemp and cannabis industry, particularly under the Trump era, there鈥檚 a in this new Green Revolution.

The Wisconsin-based Oneida tribe, strategically situated near Green Bay, Wisconsin, points to a , and hemp hurd, which can be used for insulation.

The Sisseton Tribe, based in present-day South and North Dakota, has been growing hemp for from the University of Minnesota. They鈥檙e looking at fiber hemp for a composite bag facility鈥攍ike shopping bags. The tribe has an industrial facility on the reservation, and also rail access.

are exploring hemp fiber with their Churro sheep wool to make a new specialty textile. from the Nez Perce reservation launched a magazine, , focused on tribal hemp and cannabis.

The Tudinu, or Desert People in Las Vegas, have a little 鈥渃olony鈥� downtown, a mile from the Strip. In l970, they were as the Las Vegas Paiutes, and in 2017, opened the NuWu Cannabis Marketplace. That鈥檚 a big deal, as in downtown Las Vegas. They may not have much land, but they have a big dispensary.

Tribes are in a unique position. Tribal sovereignty provides their governments leeway in the development of cannabis policies and will be a stabilizing force in turbulent times. Today, confusing regulations and lucrative growth in the cannabis industry set a complex scene, but tribal nations are in a position to continue a course they set.

Tribes have the potential to revolutionize the industry. We have the land鈥攚e just need a bit of time, technology, and finances. This is an opportunity for justice鈥攕ocial and ecological鈥攊n this post-petroleum economic transition. And we are ready to go.

Editor’s note: This article was edited at 11:30 a.m. on Feb. 26, 2021, to re-insert hyperlinks and include additional paragraphs that were cut from the print edition because of space constraints. See our corrections policy here.

We see our elders perform them in subversive ways, such as grandmothers entering a meditative state in the middle of the day by 鈥渞esting their eyes,鈥� or expressing that a child has 鈥渂een here before鈥濃�攁 tacit recognition of their reincarnation, acknowledging the inherent sanctity of the very young and very old. I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 a coincidence that the West African goddess of fertility, Yemanj谩, is also the goddess of fishermen, and to this day, in Black American families, dreaming of a fish is an omen of pregnancy.

If these positive cultural markers are passed down, it follows, then, that the negative ones are as well. My own mental health journey began after my OB-GYN suggested that I seek psychiatric treatment. While checking my vitals, he was alarmed by my spiking diastolic pressure as I prepared to tell him the reason for my visit. I informed him distractedly that this 鈥渏ust happened鈥� to me when I got nervous. His brow furrowed in concern as he asked me if I鈥檇 ever talked to someone about this. I nearly laughed鈥斺�淎bout what?鈥�

Until then, I had never before considered psychiatric care. During college, I only vaguely remember learning about counseling services, and certainly never considered utilizing them. To me, mental 鈥渋llness鈥� was recognized only in its most extreme forms鈥攕evere bipolar or major depressive disorder, psychosis, delusions, schizophrenia鈥攁苍d therapy reserved for the truly 鈥渃razy.鈥� It turns out, I wasn鈥檛 alone in this belief.

Mental Health Requires Cultural Context 

The difficulty of seeking and affording culturally competent mental health treatment in the U.S.鈥攐ne of few developed nations without a universal health care system鈥攊s compounded by social stigmas within Black and Indigenous communities. This can be traced back to not only a deep skepticism of Western medicine, but also to pervasive cultural beliefs that admission of mental illness is a sign of weakness. 

My own mental health journey began with destigmatizing mental illness and eventually transformed into an acceptance of mental health care as an inextricable part of holistic wellness. When I discovered that the origins of many individual issues can be traced to familial and generational harms, it became apparent that the closer intervention and treatments are to our ancestral ways, the more effective they can be.

There have long been major blind spots in conventional Western approaches to treating mental illness in African American and Native American communities. Centuries of living under the psychological stresses of slavery, Jim Crow segregation, settler colonialism, and genocide are bound to have an impact on cognitive functioning and manifest in what we now term 鈥渕ental illness.鈥�

My first step in seeking help was to find a therapist to whom I could relate. Suspicious of psychiatrists, who I saw as the health system鈥檚 high-end dope dealers, but still recognizing that I needed help, I did a simple internet search for 鈥淏lack women therapists near me.鈥� I found a website called Therapy for Black Girls, created by , and decided to begin with a no-frills talk therapy approach with a provider I found on the website鈥檚 directory. Even though I was still in the infancy of my wellness journey, I knew that I was beginning a process of deep excavation into the fibers of my life and, by extension, the lives of my parents, their parents, and their parents鈥� parents.

As a school psychologist working in college counseling centers, Dr. Joy (as she prefers to be called) noticed that Black women were not using her services at the same rates as their non-Black peers. This inspired her to begin , an online media network and therapy directory that includes more than 1,400 Black women therapists and other therapists of color around the nation. 

Dr. Joy notes that 鈥渟ymptoms of mental health concerns can look different in Black women, and without clinicians who are culturally attuned to our community, important information can be missed.鈥� In my own family, while there were few cases of diagnosed mental illness, there were ample 鈥渟hort tempers,鈥� 鈥渨eak constitutions,鈥� and 鈥渂ad nerves.鈥� And though no one would call them as such, there were phobias too: of driving, flying, fireworks, big crowds, and enclosed spaces. 

How Trauma Is Passed 

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5) does not include 鈥渋ntergenerational trauma鈥� in its classification of mental illness diagnoses used by mental health professionals, but the most recent edition expands its definition of trauma to include the effects of direct and indirect exposure. 

Despite its lack of a 鈥渇ormal鈥� classification, the concept of intergenerational trauma is widely accepted by psychologists and historians alike. It was first identified in the 1960s among the children of Holocaust survivors and has since been applied to Indigenous groups of the Americas and Australia, as well as victims of genocide or ethnic cleansing, such as Armenians in Turkey. The term 鈥渉istorical trauma鈥� was  by  in the 1980s specifically in relation to the colonization, forced relocation, and assimilation of Native Americans. 

In 2014, psychologists William Hartmann and Joseph Gone  based on interviews with two influential Native American medicine men from a Great Plains reservation. They recognized in the men鈥檚 teachings their unique definition of historical trauma that was summarized by the four C鈥檚: colonial injury, collective experience, cumulative effects, and cross-generational impacts. 

Up until as recently as the late 2010s, there was little study of the impact of historical and intergenerational trauma on African Americans. The little that does exist often begins with slavery and continues through the legacy of racial discrimination as something separate from the historical trauma of the people native to the Americas. However, when we also view Africans of the diaspora as forcibly displaced Indigenous people, the applicability of the medicine men鈥檚 framework to the experience of African Americans is apparent, as per Hartmann and Gone鈥檚 call for a 鈥渟piritual perspective鈥� on the need for healing, and the necessity of large-scale, 鈥渟ocio-structural鈥� change. 

Similar ideas are becoming more commonplace. For example, the perspectives of Ehime Ora, an educator of holistic wellness and author of , and Allie Dyer, co-founder of youth organization  and a medical student at the Oregon Health & Science University School of Medicine, echo the aforementioned ideas of the medicine men. 

A Holistic Approach to Black and Indigenous Mental Health

As an African spiritualist, Ora notes one of the main differences between traditional Indigenous and Western approaches to healing is that in the former, 鈥渢he presence of spirit is never ignored in the diagnostics of an individual鈥檚 health or well-being. 鈥� The mind, body, and spirit are never separated鈥擺they] deeply rely on one another for true, balanced health and holistic wellness.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Dyer, who began Brown Girl Rise with a group of other Oregon-based organizers, advocates for socio-structural changes to medicine in the same way that we demand systematic change for structural violences. She believes the medical community needs to 鈥渞adically reformulate the theoretical paradigms within allopathic medicine to reflect the reality of our patients and the communities they are part of.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Growing up, Dyer saw firsthand how little access and education Black and Indigenous youth had when it came to their health and bodies. As a medical student, she saw how important social and political contexts were left out of medical teachings. Today, Brown Girl Rise has created community and provided health education that includes historical contexts of coercion and violence. In this way, she says, 鈥渁 small biology lesson is also a political one,鈥� empowering Brown Girl Rise participants to make their own decisions about their bodies and health. 

According to Dyer, who also holds a master鈥檚 degree in public health from the Harvard University School of Medicine, this context becomes especially important when we recognize that the cumulative impact of historical trauma in both Black and Indigenous communities can present in a myriad of ways, including but not limited to dissociation, emotional numbing, apathy, substance abuse, domestic violence, depression, and suicide. Without a holistic understanding of traumatic experiences in Black and Indigenous communities, a purely physical or psychological approach to treating mental health issues may be misguided. 

Making Community Wellness Integral to Mental Health

After more than three years of cognitive behavioral and art therapy, I continued to struggle with troubling physical symptoms鈥攔acing heartbeat, digestive issues, and dizzying panic attacks. I was again advised to consult a psychiatrist. My diagnosis was a pairing not unusual for a young woman my age: generalized anxiety disorder coupled with obsessive-compulsive disorder, defined by intrusive and 鈥渆go-dystonic thoughts.鈥� At the recommendation of my therapist and a new psychiatrist, I began taking a low dosage of antidepressants. I put off filling the prescription for a few weeks and waited a few more to start taking the medication, considering it somehow 鈥渃heating鈥� to seek outside assistance for my wellness journey鈥攖he same sentiment that fueled my initial resistance to therapy. 

The belief that we must heal alone is what Ora calls one of the most harmful teachings of Western approaches to wellness. Understanding the generational impacts of trauma helped me become more empathetic with myself and others like me. I began to view mental illness less as a series of disorders and more as a response to our environments. This lessened the stigma I felt in seeking comprehensive treatment to manage it. And it worked. After beginning a small dosage of antidepressants, my physical symptoms dramatically reduced, and the intrusive thoughts stopped completely.

Indigenous care and healing practices are not only communal, but also interdisciplinary. As Ora explains, 鈥淔rom the priest who will diagnose your spiritual health to the herbalist who will provide you with remedies, there are multitudes of individuals having a hand in your healing process.鈥� In this way, our wellness as individuals is inextricable from the wellness of the whole community.

From this new perspective, it finally made sense for me to tackle mental health not only psychologically (via therapy), but also biologically (in my brain) and, ultimately, structurally (in the workplace, the food system, the economy, and so on). Our healing should not be conducted in isolation or rely on a single solution or individual. When we approach healing in this way, there are ripple effects. Dr. Joy summarizes it best: 鈥淲hen we take steps to heal, we give others the courage to do the same.鈥�

鈥淢y people migrated here in the early 1900s, when really started to happen,鈥� Tartt says. 鈥淭he pay was better, the racism wasn鈥檛 as bad. It was bad, but not as bad. 鈥� in building the framework for the coal mining industry here in West Virginia.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

To a casual observer, this southern West Virginia county is devastated, disregarded, and depressed鈥攁 manifestation of Now, nearly 60 years after that , McDowell County is ripe for revival.  

Tartt sees boundless opportunity for inclusive growth and shared prosperity through sustainable farming practices designed to build a thriving community. A military veteran who returned to McDowell County in 2010 due to familial obligations, Tartt co-founded the farming cooperative with the late Sylvester 鈥淪ky鈥� Edwards in 2014. Two years later, the nonprofit (EDGE) evolved out of a working group Tartt co-led. EDGE now provides training in agricultural entrepreneurship, sustainable local farming techniques, and more through its Thrive program, offering locals opportunities to learn new skills. 

鈥淧rosperity involves good health, involves [a] clean environment, and involves equity in business and everything that we do. Not everyone can be rich, but you can still live well and have a quality of life,鈥� Tartt says. 鈥淪o [we鈥檙e taking] a holistic approach to whatever we鈥檙e doing, to make sure the community benefits and we鈥檙e not doing it to the detriment of our environment.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Gardeners can appreciate the growth of their tomato plants while hoping to limit the spread of the aphids that might eat those plants. Teachers can value growing class participation or attendance rates, but would likely not prefer an increase in class size. Low-wage workers who would benefit from higher incomes probably aren鈥檛 as interested in having their debt grow. So growth itself is a value-neutral concept. It鈥檚 the context of that growth鈥攁苍d its limitations鈥攖hat matters.

Who Gets to Grow?

Since made mass production possible, the United States has increasingly adopted a narrative that capitalism requires unfettered economic growth鈥攚illfully ignoring the array of harmful outcomes such growth produces. Prioritizing economic growth without constraints has contributed to , from soil-stripping and to . This unyielding adherence to growth threatens public health by allowing polluting industries to contaminate the air and water, which in turn increases , , and premature death in the predominantly low-income and , , and other communities of color where these industries are typically housed. 

Despite platitudes about 鈥渞ising tides lifting all boats鈥� or 鈥渢rickle-down鈥� economics, at no point in this country鈥檚 history has economic growth been equitable. As with , today鈥檚 . From 1989 to 2018, , according to Federal Reserve data. During the same period, the wealth of the bottom 50% decreased by $900 billion. Between the beginning of the pandemic in March 2020 and May 2022, 鈥攖o more than $1.7 trillion.  

History clearly shows that unfettered growth in the name of capitalistic 鈥渟uccess鈥� results in sustained and growing inequality, human and planetary exploitation, and worse. Yet there are other models鈥攎any that come from Black, Indigenous, and other historically marginalized communities鈥攖hat take a more holistic, symbiotic approach to growth. 

Consider the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois Confederacy) , where every decision is made with consideration for the next seven generations to come. The Akan people of Ghana embrace a similar sense of interconnectedness through , which refers to the value of learning from the past to improve the present and future. 

A growing number of organizations around the U.S. and beyond are already reenvisioning growth and prosperity in ways that advance communal needs and planetary stewardship. The (BCDI) is a community-led planning and economic development organization committed to creating an 鈥渆quitable, sustainable, and democratic local economy that creates shared wealth for low-income people of color.鈥� The BCDI hosts political and business education programming and operates the Bronx Innovation Factory, an advanced manufacturing lab offering tools and training to help local innovators bring their ideas to reality and build wealth in the Bronx.

Organizations like the Asian Pacific Environmental Network (APEN) center environmental and economic justice in their approach to redefining prosperity. APEN focuses on鈥攁苍d marshals support around鈥攆rontline communities most often harmed by pollution, corporate greed, and environmental racism. In addition to policy advocacy and clean energy training, to support longtime California residents鈥攐ften immigrants and people of color鈥攖o own and remain in their homes in clean, healthy, livable neighborhoods.

Regardless of an organization鈥檚 particular focus, collaboration within and across communities is key. By rejecting toxic individualism in favor of collectivism and care, these businesses, organizations, and communities are proving that prosperity can look very different than what has been sold to most Americans as 鈥渟uccess.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The problematic notion that 鈥渕ore is better鈥� predates the establishment of the nation, but the concept has been supercharged during particular moments in U.S. history. By the time the first , growth had become intricately linked to prosperity for that population. 鈥攇rowth centered on claiming, settling, and cultivating an increasing amount of land. And this growth did indeed create prosperity鈥攁t least for white people. 

By the end of the 19th century, the U.S. was on its way to becoming as a direct result of and using enslaved labor to dominate the textile industry. The industrial revolution ushered in a new era of wealth extraction, as robber barons like and (often immigrants and children) to create their steel, oil, and railroad empires. 

In the meantime, 鈥溾�� emerged as the country鈥檚 divinely ordained justification for continued settler expansion across the continent. The association between material wealth and the 鈥淎merican Dream鈥� only grew during this period of stunning wealth inequality. Consumption as an indicator of prosperity solidified further during the Roaring 鈥�20s, with , telephones, radios, and household appliances. also became more readily available, encouraging people to buy now and pay later. The mantra of 鈥淢ore!鈥� was no longer only the province of elites. 

By the time , the concept of individualism was firmly ingrained in the nation鈥檚 dominant culture. This narrative emphasizes personal achievement, disregarding values of cooperation, mutual support, and community. It also invisibilizes the array of public support鈥攆rom public roads and the postal system to tax breaks鈥攖hat businesses rely on, not to mention the racial, gender, educational, and socioeconomic advantages that their founders often enjoy. 

Of course, the capacity to be self-made could be significantly hindered by the circumstances of one鈥檚 birth. Members of marginalized communities had considerably less access to quality education, health care, social services, and jobs that paid living wages, or safe, secure, affordable housing. This material inequality was compounded by the reality of racial violence, which included .

When the stock market crashed seven months into Hoover鈥檚 presidency, he initially eschewed government-backed market or public benefit interventions, instead doubling down on white supremacist tactics of the past: , accusing them of overwhelming government relief programs, and taking jobs that would otherwise be going to white Americans. In reality, , and studies would later suggest these federal by reducing the demand for other jobs. that and . 

Unsurprisingly, the racist policies of the Hoover administration failed to save the economy. , and the . To address the budget deficit, in 1932 Hoover rolled back tax cuts for the wealthy that . But this, and a series of additional tax increases, came too late to stave off the suffering. Even after , Hoover lost the next election to Franklin Roosevelt, who , one of the most significant public interest investments in U.S. history.  

Despite its role in establishing a broad middle class, the New Deal did not create prosperity for all. Black people living under Jim Crow laws were subject to legal discrimination and . 鈥攑ositions likely to be held by Black people. Consequently, , 65% of Black people were excluded. allowed banks to refuse loans to people in predominantly Black communities, exacerbating this unequal access to economic growth. Racial covenants in communities nationwide disallowed the sale of land or housing to Black people. This confluence of greed, white supremacy, and racialized capitalism yet again created on-ramps to prosperity that were closed to Black people. 

From Yours and Mine to Ours 

The COVID-19 pandemic provided the country with an opportunity to reshape our prior economic assumptions about what is鈥攁苍d what should be鈥攊n the public domain. When the 鈥攖he highest level since the Great Depression鈥攃itizens were able to access vital financial support through the CARES Act. That provided funding for state and local governments, tax cuts for businesses, and direct payments to individuals, bringing the U.S. as close as it鈥檚 ever been to embracing Universal Basic Income. were also provided to help small businesses and nonprofits keep their employees on payroll and their organizations afloat. An in funding was made available through a suite of economic legislation spearheaded by President Joe Biden鈥檚 administration, including the American Rescue Plan. 

Beyond government interventions, a resurgence in mutual aid efforts further underscored our interdependence and the power of community support. Grassroots organizing and advocacy efforts worked to protect the health and safety of essential workers, and groups like the Alliance of Californians for Community Empowerment and the Right to the City Alliance .  

Many have seen the benefit of and enjoy public goods and services. Investing in these public goods鈥攆rom public parks and community pools to public libraries and trash collection鈥攊ncreases opportunities for collective prosperity and personal enjoyment. At their best, these government-administered services provide core infrastructure that allows communities to thrive and grow, supporting both economic development and a healthy, robust democracy. 

Leading advocates say can create opportunities for equitable access to housing, quality education, employment, and health care. That shifted understanding of what鈥檚 possible, combined with an embrace of collective responsibility, can create a society where all needs can be met, says Angela Hanks, chief of programs at the movement-oriented think tank D膿mos. (Disclosure: Co-author Anoa Changa is the director of communications at D膿mos.)

鈥淧ublic goods are the foundation of a just economy,鈥� Hanks says. 鈥淭hey strengthen communities and our economy overall. Public goods also ensure a basic standard of living and help correct the power imbalance between the wealthy and everyone else.鈥�

But Hanks notes that corporate interests and the wealthy have weaponized the cultural myth of scarcity that suggests there are not enough resources to provide for all. This remains a major barrier to expanding public provisioning, despite its popularity. 鈥淭here鈥檚 still a persistent belief around scarcity in this country, which among other things is deeply rooted in racism,鈥� explains Hanks. 鈥淎nd it鈥檚 what corporations and the wealthy use to talk people out of public provisioning.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Nevertheless, action to expand public goods is already taking place. To address the crisis in diabetes care, in March 2023 to create state-label insulin, which will make the lifesaving drug substantially more affordable and, presumably, lead to fewer people having to ration their supply because of high costs. 

Elsewhere, states and municipalities are proposing , like the one North Dakota has run for more than a century. By servicing local governments and operating in the public interest鈥攂y law鈥攖hese entities could slash the huge sums governments now pay to private banks. Restoring postal banking, which the U.S. offered from 1911 to 1967, could help to service the  

Reimagining prosperity demands a new economy that reflects shared values and a commitment to success and well-being that exists outside of an individual framework. This new prosperity also requires a grounded understanding of people and places, and a value alignment that sees the potential and possibility in something better. 

John Muhammad, a city councilmember in St. Petersburg, Florida, believes traditional measures of prosperity, like GDP, are insufficient to assess well-being. 鈥淩eimagining prosperity requires going beyond traditional economic measures and considering a more comprehensive approach that aligns with the needs of the community, our well-being, health, and access to things like fresh food, education, and health care,鈥� Muhammad says. 鈥淕rowth usually means the economy is getting bigger and we鈥檙e producing more goods and services. But we need to make sure that this growth benefits everyone, not just a few people. Reimagining growth means making sure that as the economy grows, everyone has a chance to do well and improve their lives.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Muhammad has worked with St. Petersburg鈥檚 South Side community to revitalize a once-thriving business district. He was instrumental in negotiating a deal with the city that required new development to include actual land ownership, not mere complimentary square footage or discounted rents on spaces to lease.  

鈥淚t鈥檚 important to negotiate in terms of acres and ownership when discussing community participation in new development, because that鈥檚 the only way to truly build equity and generational wealth,鈥� Muhammad says. 鈥淪ome of the historical 鈥榙eals鈥� that have been made expire after a prescribed term, and when that ends and the capital is extracted from the community, we are left with little to nothing to pass on to those who come behind us.鈥�  

Communities in Detroit know those extractive processes all too well. Branden Snyder, executive director of , a multigenerational, member-led grassroots organization fighting for housing and economic justice, says the whole economic system needs to change. 

鈥淭here are so many systems that extract and exploit Black and Brown folks outside of just the criminal justice system, including 鈥� how we set up our economies,鈥� says Snyder. Through its Agenda for a New Economy, Detroit Action works to 鈥渦nite Black and Brown working-class Detroiters in a transformational program to win the economic and social justice we are owed.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淒etroit is called the Motor City, but Detroit isn鈥檛 about cars,鈥� says Anthony Baber, Detroit Action鈥檚 communications and culture director. 鈥淭he city itself was never about cars. City is about the people.鈥�

鈥淲e鈥檙e still trying to empower our people using that same white supremacist lens that destroyed our ecology and left all these young Black and Brown people with little to no access to advantages and prosperity,鈥� Baber adds. 鈥淲e have to change the entire thing.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淎t the end of the day, we need to make sure that resources are shared equitably and fairly,鈥� says Snyder. 鈥淎nd right now, that鈥檚 just not the case. When we think about tax breaks, the type of jobs that people get, the type of opportunities that come into neighborhoods, the type of development, and we think about the resources that people have鈥攊t鈥檚 not shared in an equitable fashion.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Both agree that reimagining prosperity requires a strong equity component to ensure people can thrive and envision the possibility of something better. Giving people a meaningful voice in how their economy and politics are structured is as much a matter of shifting culture as it is shifting the policies and frameworks that enforce the status quo view on wealth and prosperity.  

鈥淎 big part of it is just changing the mindset to one of abundance and that resources are there,鈥� says Baber. 鈥淚t鈥檚 just a matter of, can we secure those resources for our people?鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Tartt, the West Virginia farmer, agrees that both a culture shift and values realignment are necessary in the practical application of prosperity doctrines, as well as in our collective imagination. And part of that includes establishing new pathways for partnership across communities.

鈥淚f we want to really talk about prosperity, that means investing back into the community and building businesses in a way that community is benefiting,鈥� he says. 鈥淭here are opportunities if you have rural communities connected to urban communities. And we鈥檙e figuring out: How do we help each other?鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This story was funded by a grant from Kendeda Fund, as part of the forthcoming 大象传媒 series 鈥淩edefining Prosperity.鈥� While reporting and production of the series was funded by this grant, 大象传媒 maintained full editorial control of the content published herein.

My intention then was to provide a 鈥渓oving鈥� critique of philanthropy and effectively challenge the status quo of grant-making, particularly how philanthropic institutions and high-net-worth individuals used, or didn鈥檛 use, their money to address racial equity.

Since the COVID-19 pandemic started in early 2020, the immense tragedies and hardships we鈥檝e endured have altered the way our society sees the world and how we act. What we are experiencing, for the first time in my lifetime, is a vast collective suffering. Continued grappling with the pandemic, the surging of the Delta variant, and more people dying are causing us to fear for our lives and for our families鈥� lives鈥攚e fear an uncertain future, and that we may never return to 鈥渘ormal.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

In this time we鈥檝e also witnessed social movements that impacted and shook the structures of power. Politicians in major cities were forced to commit . Large corporations were called out for not doing more to authentically respond to the Black Lives Matter uprisings and the continued conversations on white supremacy and racism invoked by the 2020 presidential election. After a decades-long outcry and organizing effort from Native American communities, the Washington, D.C., football team was forced to retire its racist name. And even in philanthropy, which has been so slow to embrace change, a transformation is happening.

When I wrote my book in 2018, the framework I provided to decolonize the philanthropic sector鈥攍ifting the white gaze to leverage money as a way to heal鈥攚as deemed radical. Fast-forward to today: This method of giving is . There is now an appetite among legacy institutions and high-net-worth individuals to get to the bottom of why we really have disparities in this country and globally around race; and there are more conversations happening in philanthropy about redistribution of wealth to communities of color as reparations. 

Philanthropy can and should be at the forefront of supporting reparations, considering the sector鈥檚 collective $1 trillion in charitable assets. That鈥檚 a lot of wealth, and it鈥檚 wealth that was accumulated following the directives of colonization to divide, control, and exploit Native Americans, African Americans, and low-wage workers (many of them immigrants). Private foundations are required to pay out just 5% of their endowments annually in the U.S., and funding that has supported communities of color . If we think about the wealth extracted historically versus what is currently given to support communities of color, you can see this is far from fair or enough to address the needs caused by centuries of colonization. 

The evolution in mindset, coupled with the successful philanthropic organizing of the Decolonizing Wealth Project, has unearthed new opportunities to support and scale efforts to actualize philanthropic reparations. My idea of 10% tithing to be redistributed to BIPOC-led organizations as a step to repair, seen as a pipe dream in 2018, has suddenly come within reach. I have been in touch with several foundations that are actively trying to figure out how to give 10% of their endowments to Black and Indigenous communities across the nation.听

The Bush Foundation, as an example, has explored how it has benefited from a legacy of colonialism, and is now using its resources to address the pervasive racial wealth gap. Earlier this year, the foundation announced a (equivalent to more than 10% of its endowment) to seed two community trust funds that will address wealth disparities caused by historic racial injustice. These trust funds will be owned and managed by Black and Native American communities to provide money to build stability and generational wealth, improving access to opportunities such as education, homeownership, and entrepreneurship.

A more well-known example is how MacKenzie Scott, who has publicly committed to in her lifetime, has been approaching wealth redistribution. In 2020, without any self-congratulatory promotion, Scott donated an estimated $4 billion to leaders supporting anti-racism work and organizations led by people of color, including by Native Americans. She to organizations in categories and communities that have been historically underfunded and overlooked. What is important about Scott鈥檚 actions is her self-awareness surrounding her wealth and privilege: 鈥淭here鈥檚 no question in my mind that anyone鈥檚 , and of social structures which present opportunities to some people, and obstacles to countless others,鈥� she said. While giving at this scale and in this way is commendable, we must remember the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who said that it must not 鈥渃ause the philanthropist to overlook the circumstances of economic injustice which make philanthropy necessary.鈥�

The concept of reparations is big and nuanced. But there is an opportunity for all of us as individuals and institutions with wealth to take reparative action. Decolonizing Wealth Project, and our giving circle fund, Liberated Capital, recently announced the 23 grantees for the first-of-its-kind . Our goal is for to be a multiyear, multimillion dollar initiative to support systemic and policy change efforts that return wealth to impacted individuals. 

And we must not forget that reparations have historically been a policy conversation. Earlier this year, for the first time since it was originally introduced 30 years ago. There are also a number of local reparative efforts underway to address the historical and ongoing theft and control of land, with cities acknowledging reparations and taking action, including St. Paul, Minnesota; Portland, Oregon; Providence, Rhode Island; Burlington, Vermont; Chicago and Evanston, Illinois; New York City; and the state of California (particularly in the Bay Area).

Portland approved as its top racial justice measure to lobby the U.S. government on reparations for Black and Indigenous communities harmed by federal policies and actions. Evanston, Illinois, is levying a tax on newly legalized marijuana to fund projects benefiting African Americans in recognition of the enduring effects of slavery and the war on drugs. In the San Francisco Bay Area, . 

So where does this leave us? My hope is that the rest of philanthropy moves toward this model of wealth redistribution and that H.R. 40 is passed in the near future鈥攂ut I know this kind of radical change cannot happen in a vacuum, especially for the Black, Indigenous, and other people of color who have had white supremacy impact every aspect of their and their ancestors鈥� lives. 

Because communities of color continue to do the work to address racial inequities, it鈥檚 imperative that white communities, especially the philanthropic community, start to do their part to heal and advance the movement for repair: Leverage their power and influence to support people of color. White people in these spaces should speak up for these communities of color when in rooms that don鈥檛 reflect them, and use their position to help open doors and remove obstacles.

Commit to racial justice as lifelong work. America is almost 250 years old, with the harms of colonization and the stains of white supremacy starting before then. That kind of pain is generational, cyclical, and pervasive. White people need to commit to deconstructing the systems that continue to perpetuate disparities and racism and work alongside people of color to build new ones. 

Sometimes it鈥檚 about letting go of control. The cornerstone of white supremacy is the need to dominate and control, which is why so many industries are still white-dominated. This is where progress stalls, so white people need to think about relinquishing control if we as a society are ever going to have racial equity.

Representation doesn鈥檛 translate into power. Diversity and inclusion in workplaces is a moot point if the people at the top are still white. Real power comes from appointing people of color into top roles, including by creating new roles or encouraging some leaders to step down and step aside. By shifting real power to people of color in philanthropic spaces, grant-makers are actively dismantling the power structures that marginalize millions every day.

And if I wasn鈥檛 clear about this before, white people in philanthropy need to continue to focus their work on wealth redistribution and move more money to organizations led by people of color, including wealth-management companies and grassroots organizations. Honoring self-determination in how communities build wealth can create space and creativity for how we grow wealth, such as buying land and property. This can help create for-profit endeavors geared to create diverse and evergreen revenue streams for racial justice movements. That can allow us to realize a future where we don鈥檛 need to rely on philanthropy in the first place. 

The of how this place came to be starts with a great wildfire. As flames engulfed the western shores of the lake, a mama bear fled, swimming across the lake with two cubs in tow. She reached the eastern shore, where the park now lies, and climbed onto a high bluff overlooking the lake to wait for her babies. Neither ever arrived. Exhausted, the cubs had drowned in the lake. But high on her perch, the mother never stopped watching for them. Impressed with her watch, Creator made two islands in the cubs鈥� memory. The mother waits to this day, looking to the lake from the sand dunes that carry her name and form.

The U.S. federal government authorized the area as a national park in 1970, part of the more than now scattered across the country. The National Park Service controls these lands in order to protect what it considers special places, so that, as described on its homepage, 鈥渁ll may experience our heritage.鈥� The model is a point of pride for the country and has been exported around the world. 

For many people indigenous to this land, the creation of national parks has not been positive. Anishinaabe people, including the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians, have had to fight to ensure their basic treaty rights, like hunting and fishing, are respected in Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. And there are still strict limitations on how they can interact with the land.

鈥淭he history of Western conservation vis-脿-vis land protection, it鈥檚 been a violent, horrible erasure of Indigenous people that environmentalists look at as a point of pride,鈥� says , a citizen of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians and an associate professor of Native American and Indigenous studies and environmental studies at Dartmouth College. Environmentalists believe that they鈥檝e 鈥渟aved鈥� something precious. But for Reo and other Indigenous people, it鈥檚 the losses that stand out.

from their traditional homelands. National parks, forests,
and shorelines are painful reminders for Indigenous people that this history of separation is ongoing. 

Parks serve a key function in propping up capitalist economies. The parks were created by and for as a 鈥�,鈥� according to the Yellowstone National Park Protection Act of 1872. And they have strong support from the ; in 2020, the parks generated around , and park visitors, according to the park service鈥檚 most recent survey, are nearly .  

The same settler capitalists that are eating up land and resources, Reo says, are then trying to set areas aside elsewhere to protect those places from themselves. 鈥淭hese acts interfere with our [Indigenous] peoples鈥� ability to fulfill our cultural obligations to take care of place, to fulfill our spiritual needs and mandate, to be deeply connected to 鈥� and doing things with and for the land,鈥� he says.

But Indigenous people say there鈥檚 a different way forward: returning these lands to those who have always called them home. Transforming parks from places of Indigenous exclusion to places of Indigenous power, Reo and others believe, would address the parks鈥� damaging legacy and repair the relationship with land for the future. In this vision, parks would be treated and viewed according to an Indigenous worldview, where Native language and culture could thrive.

鈥淚 think it all needs to be returned,鈥� Reo says. And he believes it should start with the National Park Service.

Dispelling the Myth of Untouched Lands 

Like many undeveloped parts of the country, national parks are mythologized as pristine wilderness areas that are set aside to prevent people from spoiling them. , such as on cultural burning in the Boundary Waters in northeastern Minnesota, reflects what Indigenous people say: These spaces have always been tended to and cared for by humans鈥攁苍d that鈥檚 part of why they flourished. 

There is a growing consensus that white Western conservation is because it erases the way Indigenous people have always cared for these landscapes, and reinforces people鈥檚 separation from the ecosystem. That would change under tribal control of the national parks.

鈥淵ou can imagine practices that have been on the landscape for millennia, in particular things like cultural burning, or wildlife migration patterns, or knowledge of native plants and interrelationships between plants and other resources,鈥� says Monte Mills, director of the Native American Law Center at the University of Washington. 鈥淎ll of these connections that many Native folks have had to these landscapes for generations can help inform how those landscapes are used, utilized, visited.鈥�

The population of wild, , for example, is the last in the country. But the park service manages them to minimize the impact on neighboring landowners and the cattle industry in Montana and Wyoming by restricting or prohibiting the bison鈥檚 migration, and killing some of the animals to keep their numbers down. 

鈥淛ust the starting point鈥攖hat the park service is in the business of preventing wild animals from doing what they do鈥攕uggests there might be some different approaches that are actually more closely connected to the ways in which these ecosystems work,鈥� Mills says. 

with bison relocation, re-entry, and reintroduction, and an Indigenous approach could take into account the ways bison are connected to other parts of the ecosystem, such as the benefits they bring to the grasses and waterways.

Resting the Land 

This vision of the national parks would move away from the current emphasis on land management or stewardship, and instead focus on a reciprocal relationship between people and the land. Deepening this relationship could benefit animals, plants, and humans alike. 

At Bears Ears National Monument in Utah, for the first time, tribes have over a monument not located on reservation lands. A commission made up of five tribes鈥攖he Hopi Tribe, Navajo Nation, Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, Pueblo of Zuni, and Ute Indian Tribe鈥攏ow shares equal decision-making with the federal agencies managing the monument. 

鈥淓very time I go into Bears Ears, it feels like home,鈥� says , co-director of the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition and member of the Prairie Band Potawatomi Tribe in northeast Kansas. 鈥淚t feels like your people, your ancestors, the living creatures, the plants, even the soil itself 鈥� is welcoming you back, because it鈥檚 a place that our tribes have always known.鈥�

The coalition has created a that starts with Indigenous values, as opposed to Western conventions, and without the imposition of a federal agency overseeing the process. Some of the plan鈥檚 suggestions reflect how sacred the land is and how to get visitors to behave accordingly. 

鈥溾�嬧�婩rom a Native perspective, the natural world is much more than just a physical realm to sustain the material needs of life,鈥� according to the plan. 鈥淭he natural resources of the Bears Ears cultural landscape鈥攚ater, land, wind, sound鈥攁re imbued by powerful religious, artistic, and other cultural meanings significant to Native communities with ancestral ties to this region.鈥� This perspective diverges from the way federal agencies typically understand the landscape. For the tribes, every plant carries deep medicinal, cultural, and spiritual meaning. For the tribes, the land is a living being that requires rest.

鈥淲e may ask people to visit sites in a way that you would visit a church, where we ask you to be really respectful, really quiet, and we ask you to limit your photography or to limit sharing on social media so that the site actually has time to rest,鈥� Miijessepe-Wilson says. 

For Reo, using this kind of Indigenous framework to relate to the land can disrupt settler capitalism in other important ways, like upending the current assumption that land management should maximize economic gain or recreational opportunities.

Such a transition of control can cause tension, as those who are used to being able to turn a profit off the land see their returns diminished. That was the case at Devils Tower in the Black Hills, known to tribes as Bear鈥檚 Lodge, another national monument that is both a religious site for tribes and a popular rock climbing destination. Members of both groups agreed to a to allow the site time to rest, but after a property-rights group filed a , . 

We must look to Colombia, a country with an entirely different relationship to capitalism and to its Indigenous people, to see a successfully implemented example of this model. Tayrona National Park closes a few times a year for two-week periods when the Indigenous peoples of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta conduct ceremony and allow the ecosystem to recover. 

In Bears Ears, that means the landscape shouldn鈥檛 be treated as a playground鈥攚ith visitors engaged in harmful behavior, like climbing the arches鈥攂ut rather with reverence, says Miijessepe-Wilson. According to her, the landscape deserves respect because it is your relative.

Restoring Relations

鈥淗ow do you develop relationship with a place, let alone an individual plant or an individual rock, if you鈥檙e going there once a year or once a month?鈥� Reo asks. 鈥淚 think that those places, those plants, those rocks and waters, they want to be in relationship with us. And when we ignore the gifts they鈥檙e offering鈥攚e don鈥檛 pick the berries that they offer us every year鈥攊t鈥檚 like if you lived in a neighborhood and the neighbor never made eye contact, never said hi, never learned your name. After years and years and years, you might just give up.鈥�

Under tribal leadership, national parks can become places where Indigenous people can fulfill those responsibilities, without the current red tape preventing Indigenous cultural practices. Currently, Reo鈥檚 son can鈥檛 go to parkland and undertake the four-day fast that鈥檚 traditionally part of an Ojibwe person鈥檚 transition from childhood to adulthood without requesting permission from the park service. In a park returned to the tribes, his right to do so would be guaranteed, as would other long-standing cultural practices like picking berries or hunting deer. 

People could come to these places regularly and interact with them, returning to the sugar bush each year to make maple syrup; looking for deer; sitting, visiting, and talking around a campfire. It could be a place for people to learn about being good neighbors to the natural elements. Those land uses rather than .

鈥淲e鈥檙e part of it,鈥� says Michael Isham, director of the Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission and member of the Lac Courte Oreilles Tribe. Isham works with government agencies on co-stewardship agreements, which give a greater voice to tribes regarding management of and relationship with public lands. 鈥淲e each have responsibilities within the relationships we have,鈥� he says.

Implementing this Indigenous vision wouldn鈥檛 make the country鈥檚 national parks unrecognizable to those who frequent them today. Even its current staff, with valuable knowledge about how the parks operate, could be invited to 鈥渟tay, but differently,鈥� Reo says. The changes would give the original inhabitants a place to 鈥渇ully be themselves,鈥� immersed in ceremony, where Indigenous languages and cultures can thrive.

鈥淟ooking ahead, I think about those places being happier, our people being involved in their happiness,鈥� Reo says.

Removing Native people from the places they cared for inflicted tragedy and pain. At Sleeping Bear Dunes, the mother鈥檚 wait is eternal. But ending the national parks could restore relationships and end the long wait for relatives to come home. 

The trouble with these visions of the environment鈥攁苍d the traditional environmentalism that so earnestly strives to protect them鈥攊s that the environment is made up of so much more. 

Awe-inspiring trees, yes, but also the . Instagram-worthy animals, yes, but also in the soil, the water, and their own guts. The environment includes the air, the land, the flora, the fauna, and yes, people, along with everything that comes into contact with them鈥攐ur cars, our construction projects, and our trash. Indigenous communities and ancient cultures have always known this. And in contrast with earlier iterations of environmentalism, the environmental justice movement of today focuses on a similarly holistic understanding of what constitutes the environment. 

鈥淭he environment is not a place that is somehow separate from ourselves. It鈥檚 not some faraway place in nature where you travel to to get away from home,鈥� says Vivian Huang, incoming co-director of the Asian Pacific Environmental Network. 鈥淭he environment is home. It is our workplace. It is the schools that we鈥檙e in. It鈥檚 our relationships to one another. It鈥檚 our communities. It鈥檚 us.鈥�

Kiana Kazemi, the head of community operations at Intersectional Environmentalist, a nonprofit founded in 2020, defines modern environmentalism succinctly: 鈥淯nderstanding the interconnectedness of people and the planet.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Looking at environmentalism through this lens, it鈥檚 no wonder that today鈥檚 movements take an active role in defining and fighting for environmental justice, rather than solely serving as preservers of natural splendor. This intersectional environmentalism considers advancing housing access, racial justice, and gender equity to be as essential to the movement as protecting clean water and air. In the past five years alone, new climate activism organizations like the Sunrise Movement, Zero Hour, Extinction Rebellion, and Fridays for Future, many of them founded and led by youth, have brought environmental justice into the mainstream. 

Huang is quick to point out that 鈥渢his idea and way of thinking about environment is not new.鈥� She says, 鈥渢he environmental justice movement really came together around this idea of an environment being very much rooted in people and in communities.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This organizing approach goes back decades and includes the preeminent research and campaigning in the 1980s against environmental racism by Robert Bullard, considered the 鈥渇ather of environmental justice.鈥� The Asian Pacific Environmental Network, where Huang has worked for the past 11 years, came out of the First National People of Color Environmental Leadership Summit in 1991. This seminal event in the environmental justice movement codified the that have guided grassroots groups over the following three decades. 

Many environmental justice groups still hold true to these principles today, and new organizations and coalitions are making new commitments to these concepts. The Climate Justice Alliance, for example, continues to in the context of a just transition. And these aren鈥檛 fringe efforts; the Sunrise Movement and Zero Hour have become forces to be reckoned with in recent years, mobilizing young voters and influencing politicians to and insist that Democrats prioritize . While these provisions haven鈥檛 passed, youth organizers have certainly moved the needle on what鈥檚 included in the political agenda. 

Intersectionality on the Rise

Countless climate and environmental movements of the 2020s hold these overlapping issues of justice at the heart of their organizing and activism work. As Nadia Nazar, founder and art director of Zero Hour, explains, systems of oppression don鈥檛 just shape who is affected by the climate crisis. They are the causes of the climate crisis in the first place. 鈥淭he people that hold the power in these systems that have been exploiting the land, people, wildlife [for generations],鈥� she says, 鈥渘ot only have these systems caused what鈥檚 going on, but they are causing the continuation of it.鈥� So to work toward meaningful solutions, Nazar and her contemporaries argue the systemic issues of colonialism, capitalism, racism, and patriarchy must be addressed in concert. 

Take pipelines, for example. 鈥淲e can鈥檛 talk about them without talking about missing, murdered Indigenous women, [who] constantly are going missing due to the building of these pipelines,鈥� says Alexis Saenz, the founder of the Los Angeles chapter of the International Indigenous Youth Council. 

With the oil boom in the Bakken region of Montana and North Dakota, for example, to move into rural areas, including the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation. This coincided with a 70% increase in aggravated assaults on the reservation, whereas crime rates decreased in counties outside of the oil region. This is part of . Data on these crimes is sparse, which exacerbates the problem of their invisibilization, but the best available statistics show that American Indian and Alaska Native women are than other races. The majority of these crimes are committed by non-Native perpetrators, but tribes generally aren鈥檛 allowed to prosecute non-Natives, even on reservations. Federal, state, and tribal jurisdiction is hugely complex and varies by the type of crime and location, effectively resulting in impunity for many perpetrators on tribal lands.

Saenz says the racism inherent in the stealing and sex trafficking of Indigenous women, children, and two spirit people is clear: The people building these pipelines are denying Indigenous sovereignty by taking over Indigenous lands鈥攁苍d bodies. 

That鈥檚 why the council鈥檚 activism goes beyond the confines of what 鈥渆nvironmentalism鈥� has traditionally entailed. The organization not only works toward the divestment of pipelines, but also defends and advocates for Indigenous sovereignty by organizing youth to become leaders, build solidarity, and take direct action.

Since the establishment of the International Indigenous Youth Council at Standing Rock in 2016, the group has formed chapters in many states, including New Mexico, Minnesota, and Texas. And the group鈥檚 work isn鈥檛 limited to fossil fuel sites; it also targets injustices that occur in places like and on public lands. That鈥檚 partly because even the lands that have been set aside for preservation, like , were never pristine to begin with. Defining these erases the millennia of Indigenous land management that shaped them. It also fails to recognize that . Which is one reason why groups like the youth council are trying to reclaim the stewardship of these sacred lands. 

鈥淓verything is related. I am related to the trees, to the oceans, to any other living being, regardless of race, class, gender,鈥� Saenz says, so 鈥渙ne of the things that we say as youth is that we are the land defending itself.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Overcoming the ongoing, overlapping injustices against Indigenous communities will require divesting from pipelines, yes, but Saenz says it鈥檚 also about centering different forms of power and leadership, like those of Indigenous and front-line communities.

Broad but Not Diluted

Some may argue that expanding the scope of environmentalism to include all these intersecting topics makes it unwieldy or too big to solve. But many climate activists don鈥檛 see it that way. 

The Asian Pacific Environmental Network is member-based, and Huang says that the lives of its members鈥攍ike the lives of all people鈥攁re impacted by many intersecting issues. Members don鈥檛 just care about the air pollution impacting their health; they also care about economic opportunities, access to livelihoods, and addressing the racial injustice that they see, like during the COVID-19 pandemic. That鈥檚 why Huang says the group鈥檚 agenda aims to get at the heart of what people really need. 

鈥淲hen people are talking about siloed issues, they may not think of housing as, quote-unquote, an environmental issue,鈥� Huang says, but 鈥渋t鈥檚 very much an environmental issue.鈥� From an environmental justice perspective, supporting people鈥檚 ability to stay in their homes without fear of eviction, gentrification, unaffordable energy bills, or unsafe living conditions demonstrates the many ways that racial justice, economic justice, and climate justice intersect. 

The network鈥檚 housing policy strategy is multipronged. In 2016, the nonprofit pushed to pass a ballot measure for rent control in Richmond, California鈥攖he first nationwide in more than 30 years. Today, the organization continues to advocate for , insisting that renewable energy be accessible to low-income communities, renters, and front-line community members.

At the end of the day, Huang says true climate justice will come from affirming the rights of political, economic, and cultural self-determination for all peoples.

Intersectional Environmentalist, too, works to foster community, though it鈥檚 a much broader, global community, primarily built online during the pandemic. To address the inequity in access to environmental education that especially impacts low-income people of color, the nonprofit launched 鈥淚E School.鈥� The organization鈥檚 leaders invite nontraditional educators, who may be students or organizers or activists, to share the wisdom gained from their experience. 

鈥淲e amplify their voices and put them in those positions of teaching, when usually they don鈥檛 have that opportunity,鈥� Kazemi says. 鈥淲e鈥檙e creating free, accessible educational resources that come from the voices of the people at the front lines.鈥�

In this way, Intersectional Environmentalist is hoping to expand the movement to include not just self-identified environmentalists, but also housing advocates, food sovereignty activists, engineers, doctors, artists鈥攁苍yone who cares about people and the planet. 鈥淚 think those people are all environmentalists, whether they identify as that or not,鈥� Kazemi says. 鈥淲e all belong in this movement.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

While the environments, needs, and communities will vary, at its core, environmental justice is about safety, Huang says. 鈥淎nd real safety comes from us having what we need. It comes from our communities having stable housing, good jobs, health care, connection鈥攁 cohesion with one another.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

I had clearly entered a distinct section of Bologna, but what was it? An investigation revealed, by way of a sign for tourists such as myself, the answer. This was what remained of a medieval ghetto.

In the middle of the 16th century, Pope Paul IV forced, by papal power, all the Jews of Bologna to live in this small section of the city because they were… Jews. The ghetto became a miniature of the rest of Bologna. Space became of the essence here. As I walked the streets of what was one of the world鈥檚 oldest ghettos, I kept trying to imagine how small the capital of this region of Northern Italy  would be if it, too, were scaled down to this size. This line of thought led me to this conclusion: The density imposed on Jews by the Pope matched in appearance the ideal for urban life in the present age of rapid global warming.

In March 2021, the American University in Cairo Press and Terreform published , edited by the noted American urban scholar Michael Sorkin and the British urban geographer Deen Sharp. Sorkin, who is recognized in the architectural, urban planning, and critical theory community as one of the major voices of 20th century leftist urbanism, lost his life at age 71 to COVID-19, a year before the book was published. His co-editor, Sharp, is a geographer noted for his focus on urbanization in the Middle East. Their book is exceptional because it has no illusions about the everyday social and political conditions of the Gaza Strip, a small area on the eastern coast of the Mediterranean Sea that鈥檚 packed with 2 million Palestinian souls. 

Over the past two decades, this area has become what many describe as an open-air prison. When not being bombed to bits, its contact with the outside world is increasingly restricted. Indeed, while I was reading Open Gaza in May 2021, Israel Defense Forces were bombing the city for the third time in a little under a decade. Hamas, one of the armed organizations within Gaza, initiated the war by firing rockets at Israel over an explosive policing-related crisis that the government, under the right-wing Benjamin Netanyahu, decided to downplay. At the end of the conflict, the dead on one side (the Gaza Strip) numbered 256; and those on the other (Israel), numbered 13. 

Open Gaza remains relevant after the most recent Israel-Palestine war because the situation in that territory has not changed, with the exception of Netanyahu鈥檚 fall from power on June 13, 2021. Another explosive crisis could emerge and erupt, and Hamas and its allies could once again fire rockets at Israel, and Israel could once again drop bombs on Gaza City鈥檚 already crumbling buildings. Also, a blockade is still in effect, and there is no sign of an end to the city鈥檚 isolation enforced by the wall, surveillance, and economic restrictions. 

The aim of the contributors to Open Gaza is the extension of a social justice program that the 20th century French urban theorist Henri Lefebvre called 鈥渢he right to the city.鈥� This means, in essence, ending the 鈥渟ick circular economy of destruction and reconstruction鈥� and suggesting 鈥渄irections in which a reimagined Gaza might grow and prosper,鈥� as Sorkin and Sharp write in their introduction. The book is so dense (geographical facts, graphs, images of everyday life, untold stories, recommendations, plans, speculations, outrage, calls to action) that it鈥檚 best read in the manner of a 诲茅谤颈惫别: Begin with the introduction, then read the chapters in any order (for me it was: 鈥淭imeless Gaza鈥� by Mahdi Sabbagh and Meghan McAllister, 鈥淔our Tunnels鈥� by Bint al-Sirhid, 鈥淪olar Dome鈥� by Chris Mackey and Rafi Segal, and 鈥淎rchitecture of the Everyday鈥� by Salem Al-Qudwa, and so on). 

A weird thought entered my mind while in the book鈥檚 pages, a thought confirmed by this passage from one of the best essays in the collection, Absurd-City, Subver-City by Yara Sharif and Nasser Golzari:

鈥淪ubver-City … explores spatial means of reinhabiting the city. While looking at the many challenges and constraints that exist, we try to rethink reconstruction and the domestic space of the everyday, insisting on the importance of offering propositions that build on what is already there. While doing so, we use design to question the notion of 鈥榟ome,鈥� especially in a fractured city with exposed skin and fabric, where the relationship between the internal and external, the street and the room is now blurred. This reading of the city could create new typologies for inhabiting it.鈥�  

The thought of 鈥渘ew typologies for [habitation]鈥� is similar to what I was thinking when I left the Bologna ghetto. It鈥檚 the idea that resource stress imposed by political and cultural means has forced a response that is in fact ideal for life during the age of global warming. 

Terreform, an urban research studio founded by Sorkin, offers this statistic in a city plan for Gaza presented in the book: Gaza has one-tenth of Israel鈥檚 ecological footprint, which is a stunning 鈥�6.2 global hectares (gha) per capita.鈥� Meaning, 鈥渢he average Israeli uses 6.2 hectares to produce their resources, the largest number among nations in the OECD.鈥� (The average for the world as a whole is 2.7 hectares.) The inhabitants of the Gaza Strip are actually living by energy standards that, though imposed unfairly by military and economic constraints, should be considered realistic in a world whose urban population must consume far less energy, recycle more materials, and use renewable sources of power. Gaza has been forced to rely on these high-efficiency solutions for political reasons. Soon, the rest of the world will have to do so for climate-related reasons. 

From Gaza we learn about what Helga Tawil-Souri, in her vivid essay 鈥淭he Internet Pigeon Network (IPN),鈥� calls 鈥渓ow-technologization.鈥� I call this 鈥減rogress without waste鈥� or 鈥渉orizontal advancement,鈥� as opposed to the 鈥渧ertical advancement鈥� programs that developing countries adopted mid-century to catch up with the West. The most viable future for Gaza is not the freedom to consume as much as Israel (all of its blood-earned lessons would be lost if such were the case). Instead, it鈥檚 developing ways from its present situation to consume in a manner that can mitigate the ever-mounting dangers of global warming. 

This is what I call 鈥渓earning from Gaza.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

CORRECTION: This article was updated at 2.07 p.m. on 08/27/2021 to clarify that Gazans are forced to rely on high-efficiency solutions because of political reasons. Read our corrections policy here.

Governments from Australia to Rwanda, from Sweden to Brazil, and from Kenya to Belarus have devised policy solutions to bolster the health, well-being, and basic functioning of their societies, sometimes at the urging of grassroots organizers. And while no country is a utopia, even nations with long histories of inequality and violence carry lessons for how to move toward what might be called a more perfect union. Each of these examples prove that with policy and grassroots activism, it is possible to create equitable opportunities for everyone to grow and thrive. 听

1. Mountains and Rivers Have a Say  

The rights of nature movement seeks to grant legal standing to the environment鈥攔ivers, trees, mountains, forests, and more. While a handful of U.S. cities have adopted the idea, it鈥檚 been most successful abroad. Ecuador was the first nation to incorporate rights of nature into its constitution in 2008, going beyond simple legal standing. There, nature has the right to restoration, regeneration, and respect. Bolivia followed, enacting its Law of the Rights of Mother Earth in 2010. New Zealand has approached nature鈥檚 rights more specifically, granting personhood to the Whanganui River in 2017, as well as naming royal and Maori legal guardians who are empowered to bring suit on behalf of these newly affirmed ecological persons.

2. A Focus on Drug Rehab, Not Punishment

After more than a decade spent battling rising heroin use, Portugal made history in 2001 by becoming the first country in the world to fully decriminalize the 鈥渃onsumption, acquisition, and possession鈥� of all narcotic and psychotropic drugs. The sale and distribution of drugs remain illegal鈥攁苍d drug dealers are prosecuted, though penalties are reduced for users who sell solely to fund their own habit. But anyone found with less than a 10-day supply of any illicit substance, from marijuana to heroin, is referred to a local commission composed of three people: one legal expert and two medical doctors, psychologists, sociologists, or social workers. That commission then makes a recommendation for treatment, with an explicit goal of rehabilitation. Methadone and clean needle services are easily accessible. In 2016, 30 people died of drug overdose in Portugal; in the U.S., more than 63,600 people died.

3. More Women in Government

In the wake of the Rwandan genocide of 1994, women鈥檚 societal roles shifted drastically, and a generation of widows and orphans was pivotal in rebuilding the economy. Women鈥檚 political equality took center stage. The country鈥檚 new constitution, adopted in 2003, mandated that women make up at least 30% of parliament; they took 48% of seats in the first election. Today, Rwanda鈥檚 parliament has the highest level of women鈥檚 representation of any country in the world. As of August 2020, 61.3% of the members of Rwanda鈥檚 lower house of parliament are women, and in the upper parliamentary chamber, 38.5% of members are women. While Rwanda continues to struggle with poverty, corruption, and gender-based violence, it also boasts some of the highest rates of women in the workforce in the world, and the maternal mortality rate dropped 77% between 2000 and 2013. 

4. Universal, Affordable Child Care

In Sweden, child care has been a cornerstone of family policy for nearly half a century. The Scandinavian country was one of the first to adopt the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, and it now offers universal child care to all families with children from ages 1鈥�12. Subsidized in part by national and municipal taxes, out-of-pocket costs for families are capped according to income level. A two-parent Swedish family with two children spends an average of 4% of their annual net household income on child care costs鈥攚hile a U.S. family with two parents and two children spends four times as much for child care: 16% of their annual net household income. Sweden鈥檚 subsidized child care is just one component in a suite of family-centric government benefits, including a child allowance that increases with the number of children, and generous paid parental leave.

5. The End of Single-Use Plastic

Kenya imposed the world鈥檚 strictest ban on plastic bags in August 2017, imposing steep fines ($40,000 USD) and potential prison time for anyone caught using, selling, or producing plastic bags. Eight months after the ban鈥檚 implementation, environmental officials reported fewer plastic bags flying through the air, and less plastic waste in waterways and in the guts of fish and other animals. Although enforcement was uneven鈥攕treet vendors were particularly hard-hit, without subsidies to offset the high cost of cloth bags or other reusable containers鈥攎ost officials called the ban a success, and neighboring nations considered similar policies. In June 2020, Kenya took another major step toward reducing plastic waste by banning single-use plastics in all protected areas, including national parks, wildlife reserves, beaches, forests, and conservation areas. 

6. Car-Free City Streets  

In the mid-1970s, the Colombian capital city of Bogot谩 pioneered what has grown into a global movement to鈥攁t least temporarily鈥攔emove cars from congested city streets. Every Sunday and national holiday, the city of more than 7 million people closes most of its streets to vehicle traffic, in a tradition known as 肠颈肠濒辞惫铆补, which means 鈥渂ikeway.鈥� Pedestrians and bicyclists swarm the streets, and vendors, artists, and musicians turn out in force for the weekly city-wide stroll. Today, cities across Europe, Latin America, and even a handful of U.S. municipalities have joined the car-free or 鈥淥pen Streets鈥� movement, designating days or entire areas of the city where cars are forbidden. In addition to encouraging bike transit infrastructure, cultivation of green spaces, and social cohesion, removing cars from city streets has tangible environmental benefits. A 2016 research review on European and Latin American cities found as much as a 40% reduction in nitrogen dioxide levels on car-free days. 

7. Grandmothers in Charge

The Mosuo, who live in the Chinese Himalayas, are a matriarchal society. Women are the heads of families: They carry on the family name, make financial decisions for their intergenerational household, and inherit property. Men live with their maternal relatives, and play a significant role in childrearing and household duties. The Western concept of marriage does not exist. When a woman reaches maturity, she is free to take a male lover鈥攐r several. If pregnancy results, the child is raised in their mother鈥檚 household, and there is no stigma around bearing children from several men.  

More on the Mosuo grandmothers: yesmagazine.org/mosuo

8. Healthy Mothers

In the final years of the Soviet Union, Belarus struggled socially and economically, and the health of its citizens suffered. This was particularly true for pregnant women, who experienced a maternal mortality rate of 33 out of every 100,000 live births in 1990. By 2017, Belarus boasted the lowest maternal mortality rate in the world鈥攋ust 2 maternal deaths for every 100,000 live births. (Italy, Norway, and Poland have the same mortality rate.) Beginning in 2005, the government launched several initiatives to improve maternal health, including building health care facilities in rural areas, deploying nearly 2,700 OB-GYNs, and providing stipends for pregnant women to see a health care provider during their first trimester. 

9. Public-Private Universal Health Insurance

In Australia, a decade-long legislative battle over access to health care resulted in a public-private health insurance system that is broadly regarded as one of the best in the Western world. The publicly funded program, known as Medicare, subsidizes public hospitals, and covers medical care鈥攊ncluding mental health and pregnancy care鈥攆or all Australians. New Zealand citizens, as well as permanent residents of either country, are eligible to enroll in the program. Those subsidies come from a federal income tax, in addition to local levies. Out-of-pocket prescription drug costs under Medicare are capped at $39.50 AUD ($28 USD) per prescription, with lower costs available to low-income residents. Private insurance is also available, and provides coverage for services not covered by Medicare. The government sets income thresholds to determine which taxpayers are eligible for a rebate on their health insurance costs, and which are required to buy private insurance or pay a fine. 

10. Serious About Education

Since the end of the Korean War, South Korea has made drastic investments in its education system, taking it from a nation where 80% of the population was illiterate in 1945, to now boasting one of the highest educational attainment levels in the world. In 2019, nearly 70% of Koreans ages 25-34 have a post-secondary education (compared with barely 50% of Americans in the same age range). The federal Ministry of Education oversees primary, secondary, and post-secondary schools nationwide; primary and secondary school is universally available, and the national high school graduation rate is 95%. Korean students鈥攐f all ages鈥攃onsistently earn some of the highest test scores worldwide in math, science, and reading. Teachers in South Korea are well-paid, among the most educated in the world, highly regarded in society, and have exceedingly low attrition rates.

11. People’s Right to Healthy Food

Building off Brazil鈥檚 grassroots Movement for Ethics in Politics, Belo Horizonte enacted a municipal law in 1993 that established a universal right to food, creating a commission of government officials, farmers, labor leaders, and others. The commission was charged with a mandate to 鈥渋ncrease access to healthy food for all as a measure of social justice.鈥� Now, 26 years later, the city has effectively eliminated hunger among its 2.5 million residents. Belo Horizonte鈥檚 food security system comprises 20 interconnected programs that approach food security in different ways, including offering fixed, low-cost fresh and healthy food at 鈥減opular restaurants鈥�; providing food directly to schools, daycare centers, clinics, nursing homes, shelters, and charitable organizations; and  connecting producers with consumers at farmers鈥� markets and stands. The entire program costs less than 2% of the city鈥檚 annual budget.  

More on Belo Horizonte鈥檚 food program: yesmagazine.org/belo

Big Wind Carpenter is a two-spirit member of the Northern Arapaho Tribe who grew up on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming, where fossil fuel extraction impacted every aspect of their life. 鈥淭he river that we used to play in was being used for the dissolved solids of the fossil fuel industry,鈥� they say. The local political and educational systems were also funded by (and reflected the values of) that industry. 

Carpenter describes the extreme contrasts visible from their mother鈥檚 house: To the south is a sulfuric acid plant (which used to be a yellowcake uranium factory) and a largely Native population living in trailer homes. To the north are mansions, golf courses, and a largely white population. 鈥淥f course, they aren鈥檛 exposed to the industries that we were exposed to,鈥� Carpenter explains.

Carpenter says this contrast activated them to start organizing early, at the age of 13. 鈥淔or my grandparents鈥� generation, it was the American Indian Movement,鈥� Carpenter says. 鈥淚 think that the Water Protector movement is 鈥� our generation鈥檚 equivalent鈥攖o take up an agelong fight.鈥� Carpenter鈥檚 first direct action began in 2016, protesting the Dakota Access pipeline at Standing Rock, where they were arrested in early 2017. The following year, they fought a pipeline in western Massachusetts. When Carpenter was acquitted in 2018, they headed from the courtroom straight to northern Minnesota to demonstrate against the Line 3 pipeline for the next three years. 

Carpenter says they had a kind of epiphany over the course of their activism: 鈥淚t鈥檚 not just this river that鈥檚 sacred. All of them are sacred. Every single one of them, even if they鈥檙e being poisoned right now, even if they鈥檝e been poisoned in the past. That water itself is a sacred thing.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Today, Carpenter is back in Wyoming protecting their home waters, including Wind River itself and glaciers of the Wind River Range that are melting fast as the climate warms. Carpenter is now working on a project called the , which aims to change the Western understanding of reciprocity鈥攖reating water not as a resource but as a relative. 鈥淲e鈥檙e actually all threads in this interwoven blanket that are doing Creator鈥檚 work,鈥� says Carpenter. 

Rebecca Wyn Kelly was running a restaurant and an art gallery when the COVID-19 pandemic brought her back home to the tiny Welsh village of her youth, Aberarth. She realized there was a lot of work to do with the River Arth, the waterway she鈥檇 been swimming in all of her life. Kelly uses art to connect her community with her local waters鈥攊n the form of art classes, group swims, and river safaris. 鈥淎rtists have always been there alongside the physicians, alongside the mathematicians, the philosophers, the linguists, the thinkers.鈥�

She says it鈥檚 because artists see the world through creative eyes that invite people to engage with concepts like climate change and pollution, even if they don鈥檛 fully understand them: 鈥淲ow, look how they鈥檝e captured that water. Perhaps I should look at the water differently.鈥� Much of her art embodies threats to the River Arth, such as a map of the river made up of 5,540 blue dots, each one representing an hour during which raw sewage was being discharged from a local water treatment plant into the tiny, 24-kilometer river in 2020. 

鈥淚鈥檓 using this river as a kind of metaphor for our autonomy as people and our language and our ways of living and our culture,鈥� Kelly says. Historically, the Welsh language and ecosystems were undermined by colonialism and its consumption-centered worldview. 鈥淥ur river holds all of that, so all 鈥� that has been lost within our village life can be regained through the story of this river.鈥� Kelly says that when it comes to climate action, people are overloaded with data and exhausted by empty political promises. She aims to counter this by introducing the climate justice movement to what she calls 鈥渟acred activism.鈥�

鈥淏y taking a walk, you are doing the work. By getting in the water, you are doing the work.鈥� It鈥檚 enough to show up for the magic of cloud gazing or a storm or the tide going in and out, she says. Rekindling a relationship with nature is the first step in standing up for it. 鈥淭here still is joy, and it鈥檚 still OK to seek that for yourself and for our surrounding environment as a way of protest and activism.鈥�

When John Akec describes the Sudd Wetland, he makes it clear what鈥檚 at stake: the largest wetland on the African continent and the second-largest in the world, on the list of tentative UNESCO World Heritage Sites. 

But swamps have never been easy for Western societies to love. Even delineating the Sudd Wetland鈥檚 area is squishy: During the dry season, it covers about 16,000 square miles, but come the rainy season, it expands to nearly 35,000 square miles. This seasonal flooding allows vegetation to grow in what would otherwise be desert, and fish to live in shallow ponds left behind. The fluidity of these food sources supports the nomadic pastoralism of approximately 1 million Dinka, Nuer, Shilluk, and Anyuak people who call this area home. 

Historically, the wetland helped protect the region from British colonial forces. Today, the Sudd continues to support people and entire ecosystems. 鈥淲ater is more valuable than gold, more valuable than oil,鈥� Akec says. 

Akec was in intermediate school when a project began in 1978 to channelize the flow of water through the wetland to capture what was being 鈥渓ost鈥� to evaporation. Despite his young age, he protested the project, which eventually came to a halt in 1984. 

In 2021, the project to drain the Sudd Wetland was revived, this time in the name of flood mitigation. 鈥淚 was horrified,鈥� Akec says. Now a systems engineer, economist, social activist, and administrator at University of Juba, Akec took to social media to raise awareness of the proposed dredging and channelizing, which would disrupt the hydraulic cycle and leave the region drier. University students staged an enormous demonstration on campus, and that same day, Akec received a call from the South Sudanese president鈥檚 office telling him the dredging project had been suspended. There was also a thinly veiled threat to his job, but Akec plans to keep fighting. 

鈥淚 know this country was fought for by people with their blood,鈥� Akec says. 鈥淚f you are living, then you try to fight with the tools that are available.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

That鈥檚 why there are calls for mass tree planting to cover 25% more of Earth鈥檚 surface, and governments have pledged to add a trillion new trees. Stewarding existing forests is an important climate solution, but planting trees to cancel out emissions is not. 

Tree-planting projects create monocultures, not complex natural forest ecosystems. Monocultures do not support wildlife and are more vulnerable to disease, insect infestations, and wildfires. 

Adding trees to grasslands and wetlands exacerbates biodiversity loss, absorbs (rather than reflects) solar radiation, and draws huge quantities of water. 

Today鈥攁苍d especially in a hotter future鈥攖rees are not reliable carbon storage.

Tree-planting programs harm vulnerable populations. Targeting farmland for tree planting triggers food shortages, forced migration, and violent evictions of Indigenous peoples. Poorly designed tree subsidies wreak havoc in poorer economies. 

Cheap tree offsets distract us from the hard work of reducing consumption. Corporations and governments won鈥檛 invest in expensive carbon reduction projects when they can win public favor and pay for their carbon sins by planting trees instead.

But what does that really mean?

States, cities, school districts, and universities are all defying federal orders with sanctuary declarations. And in response to threats from the Trump administration, Seattle is now one of at least six local governments to sue the federal government, alleging state’s rights violations among other constitutional issues. These sanctuary policies are varied, as each local government defines its own sanctuary work. And there’s another kind of sanctuary too, declared by a church, synagogue, or mosque.

The bottom line is that no local policy can actually prevent Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents from conducting raids, making arrests, or deporting undocumented immigrants. But the sanctuary movement is not without power. Importantly, it serves as a public statement, and this public commitment has powerful political and moral impact.

Jeanette Vizguerra has lived in the United States for about 20 years and has lived with a deportation order hanging over her head for years. She was required to check in with ICE each year to ask for a stay of deportation. But this year, instead of going to ICE for her check-in, Vizguerra asked for sanctuary in the First Unitarian church in Denver.

First Unitarian is among the growing number of religious congregations pledging sanctuary, a number that more than doubled in the months immediately following the 2016 presidential election. Many more have pledged material support and volunteer help to the 800-plus congregations offering physical shelter. Along with Christian and Jewish congregations, a Cincinnati mosque became the first mosque to declare itself a sanctuary in January.

The sanctuary movement is not without power.

When a religious congregation offers sanctuary, it often provides a place to live and a hope of protection from arrest. So far, that works. But the law does allow police or ICE officials to go into a place of worship (or a school or a hospital) and arrest undocumented immigrants. Though it would be legal, it wouldn’t look pretty.

Under the Obama administration, ICE was directed not to enter “sensitive locations.” While it’s tough to tell rumors and leaks from memos and orders, Department of Homeland Security Secretary John Kelly is clearly playing by the new president’s tough-guy rulebook on immigration. According to leaked memos, Kelly plans to rescind all Obama-era guidelines, including the one on sensitive locations. Would ICE officials actually invade churches, schools, and hospitals to drag people out and deport them? We don’t know yet.

Refusing to cooperate with ICE

When cities declare sanctuary status, they’re mostly invoking a separation ordinance. Despite heated rhetoric, sanctuary ordinances can only affect the way in which city employees—from police to librarians—carry out their jobs.

A city separation ordinance directs city employees, including police, not to inquire about the immigration status of anyone who has not been convicted of a crime. St. Paul, Minnesota, passed a separation ordinance in 2004, and after the election of Trump, St. Paul Mayor Chris Coleman issued a strong statement explaining the city’s stance:

“The City of Saint Paul wants all its residents to feel comfortable seeking out City services—including law enforcement—when they are in need. We want everyone to call the police when they are the victim of or witness to a crime without fear they will be asked about their immigration status. We want everyone to call the paramedics in a medical emergency, enroll their children in after-school programs or use our library services. Our staff—including our police officers—will not ask for proof of immigration status. Period.”

Hennepin County Sheriff Rich Stanek is one of about 60 high-ranking law enforcement officials who sent a letter to U.S. senators explaining that this practice makes law enforcement work better. But, Stanek told a local newspaper, “there is no sanctuary once you go to jail.” Going to jail means fingerprints, which go to the FBI and into a database that ICE regularly checks.

A city’s non-collaboration also might include refusing to hold people on ICE detainers, an instruction from ICE to hold a prisoner past a legal release date until ICE decides whether to pick them up for deportation proceedings. Several courts have held that these detainers are unconstitutional, but ICE continues to use them. As a practical matter, even in jurisdictions that refuse to hold people on ICE detainers, ICE agents can still wait at the door of the jail when someone is released.

States jump in on both sides

Each jurisdiction’s laws come at sanctuary in different ways. Oregon has a strong statewide separation law, which dates back to 1987. In California, Gov. Jerry Brown and the Legislature have wrangled over ways to strengthen the state’s “Trust Act,” a law passed four years ago that limits police collaboration with ICE.

Washington Gov. Jay Inslee has given a broad set of protections to the undocumented immigrants living in his state. His February executive order says state agencies may not discriminate against immigrants or deny public benefits, “except as required by international, federal, or state law.” In addition, the order forbids inquiries into immigration status, registering people on the basis of religious affiliation, and “targeting or apprehending” people for violation of federal civil immigration laws.

Several other states are considering similar laws. In Massachusetts and Maryland, Democratic legislatures have expressed support for sanctuary laws—however, Republican governors in both states are likely to veto.

On the other side, there are conservative states supporting the Trump crackdown by going after their rogue cities. Texas Gov. Greg Abbott canceled $15 million in state funding for law enforcement in Travis County for refusal to honor ICE detainers and asked the Legislature to give him authority to fire elected officials in sanctuary jurisdictions.

In Colorado, the political complexity of the issue is apparent. There, the Legislature is considering both a bill declaring sanctuary status and a bill that would punish public officials in sanctuary jurisdictions, creating a felony offense of “rendering assistance to an illegal alien.” With a divided legislature, neither proposal is likely to pass.

Welcome and solidarity

Regardless of city sanctuary policies, communities are finding creative ways to offer support to undocumented immigrants.

Chicago Public Schools, for example, will not allow immigration authorities to enter a school unless they have a warrant. Other districts offer training for teachers and support groups for immigrant students, and distribute cards telling students (and their parents) what their rights are if ICE agents knock on their doors.

Concrete financial and physical support can come in the form of funding for legal assistance for immigrants facing deportation or offering social services. Immigration and asylum status is considered by the courts to be a civil matter, so attorneys are usually not provided. But, in 2013, New York City began funding public defenders for immigrants in deportation proceedings, and now New York state plans to expand the program to cover immigration courts in the rest of the state. The state of California is considering a similar plan, and Los Angeles and San Francisco also have programs or plans to fund legal representation.

The good that sanctuary can do

While no kind of sanctuary policy can stop an ICE raid, sanctuary declarations can have a powerful impact—perhaps most importantly in strengthening the moral and political muscle of resistance.

By naming their houses of worship as sanctuaries, individuals are making a defiant stand. Even those whose congregations cannot offer actual shelter can still contribute time, money, and solidarity.

The sanctuary movement offers a route to converting hearts and minds. When a church, synagogue, or mosque offers sanctuary, each member of the congregation is introduced to an immigrant and their story. Immigration policy then changes from a distant political debate to an intensely personal question.

Coming together around sanctuary strengthens the identity of a community. The political process of declaring sanctuary in a city, county, or state includes building alliances, public hearings, and public commitments by individuals, civic groups, and political figures. As the community makes a commitment, they stand in opposition to the broken immigration system and national anti-immigrant rhetoric and policies. Participation in the process strengthens the muscle of resistance.

Here we stand, together, a sanctuary decision declares. We stand with immigrants. We stand with the oppressed.

She and her co-workers, some of them displaced by the fire, had been arguing with management for months for more staffing, training, and protection from customer abuse. Now, the crisis was giving them an unexpected break.

鈥淲e all took a big breath,鈥� she remembers. With the space of a week off, she and others came to a conclusion: 鈥淲hat we put up with is awful. This is ridiculous. We don鈥檛 need to work this much.鈥�

Harris began to talk to her co-workers about forming a union. By spring, they had officially voted to become .

Harris saw the vote as a moment of triumph both for worker protection and for climate action. 

鈥淭hese working conditions are because [corporate leaders] want to make more money off of less people, because they want to make more money for shareholders, because they want to expand,鈥� she says. She sees that push to expand, to make consumption easy and inexpensive, as the root of human-caused climate change. 鈥淪o many capitalistic luxuries that are just cheap [and] faster produced have absolutely a terrible effect on the environment.鈥�

Some climate organizers have been searching for a bridge between the labor and climate movements for years. The challenge, though, has been finding policies and approaches that satisfy both worker interests and climate鈥檚 urgency. 

That鈥檚 beginning to change. State legislatures, Congress, environmental organizations, and labor unions鈥攊ncluding Service Employees International Union and United Steelworkers鈥攈ave found powerful allies in each other.

鈥淚t鈥檚 been a history of peaks and valleys,鈥� says Jason Walsh, executive director of the BlueGreen Alliance, a coalition of labor unions and environmental organizations. He worked with labor and environmental groups in the 1990s to fight NAFTA and later saw environmental activists join labor activists in the streets in 1999 World Trade Organization protests known as the Battle of Seattle. But those alliances didn鈥檛 last.

In the past decade, labor and climate activists have started to find common ground again. Many of the country鈥檚 biggest labor unions have expressed support for climate action, and they鈥檝e backed at least portions of policy proposals like the Green New Deal.

鈥淲e鈥檙e in a moment that we might not have again for quite some time鈥攚here we have a Democratic Congress and a Democratic president and the ability to pass legislation that can really move the dial,鈥� says Walsh. He believes it鈥檚 a time for climate organizers to double their efforts to reach out to workers and organized labor, to push for policies that benefit both movements.

So far, many of the successes have remained at the state level. In California, SEIU California, the BlueGreen Alliance, and the Asian Pacific Environmental Network (APEN) , including the importance of home care workers as first responders and as a vital source of societal resilience to climate change. Care workers provide life-saving care and help evacuate vulnerable people during fires, hurricanes, and floods. In part as a result of that collaboration, a pilot program, backed by SEIU Local 2015 and funded in part by the state, aims to train those workers on . APEN, BlueGreen Alliance, and labor unions also successfully advocated for the state to put , an idea they first put forward in that collaborative report.

鈥淲e are trying to somewhat blur that line or division that鈥檚 constructed a lot. Our communities are also workers,鈥� says Amee Raval, APEN鈥檚 policy and research director.

She says APEN鈥檚 collaboration stemmed from a basic observation: In a lot of fights, climate and labor organizations were on the same side. For example, after , APEN members joined labor unions on the picket line to demand better safety practices.

But fractures between the movements persist. Environmental groups and labor unions , and for tackling fights over infrastructure, like new pipelines.

鈥淚 think it is fair to say that we have always been strongest and most unified when we have legislation that we can work on together,鈥� says Walsh. 鈥淚 understand the power of [fighting pipelines] from an organizing and movement-building standpoint. I don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 worth the cost from a political standpoint, and what it does to relations between labor unions and environmental groups, and what it does to the political landscape in particular places.鈥�

Raval says organizations like APEN that are focused on environmental justice often have an easier go of it.  

鈥淚 think there鈥檚 more pathways for environmental justice and labor to align, especially when we鈥檙e talking about working-class communities of color,鈥� she says. There, the same people impacted by pollution and environmental degradation are those often working in difficult conditions.

From Harris鈥� standpoint as a worker, she sees another barrier: the hustle of trying to survive in a society where overwhelming economic pressure prevents people from being able to engage on environmental issues. After all, it took a catastrophic, climate-change-fueled fire to give her and the other Starbucks workers the space to begin to organize.

鈥淵ou don鈥檛 have time to reflect, you don鈥檛 have time to think about the environment鈥� when working long hours at low wages, she says. 鈥淵ou only have time to think about you, the people that you love that need your help, and your bills.鈥�

When she talks to her colleagues, she usually just focuses on their work concerns, rather than pushing them to talk about unionizing. 鈥淚鈥檓 not trying to drag people along this sort of epic journey of mine without them wanting to come with me,鈥� she says. But she鈥檚 found they are receptive to ideas about how their struggle in a coffee shop in suburban Denver is linked to a broader fight over climate and societal change. There鈥檚 strength, she says, in not seeing the issues as separate, but instead as two responses to the same extractive whole. 

Raval agrees. 鈥淲e鈥檙e really thinking about [climate resilience] in the context of these intersecting crises,鈥� she says. 鈥淥ur community is experiencing all of these things at the same time.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

While that increase impacts people across lines of race and ethnicity, maternal mortality s. Black people continue to suffer disproportionately, dying at more than twice the rate that white people do. About a quarter of deaths in 2020 and 2021 were directly related to the birthing person having COVID. Pregnant people and those who have recently given birth are , and risks for certain pregnancy complications, such as preeclampsia, increase when someone who is expecting has the virus. 

Latona Giwa, co-founder of and the New Orleans Breastfeeding Center, offers a fuller picture of the maternal mortality and morbidity spike in Louisiana, the state where she lives and works. 鈥淲e had the height of the pandemic, and then we had Hurricane Ida on top of that in 2021 that was really devastating for pregnant and birthing families,鈥� Giwa says. 鈥淭hen we had and . I think the last couple of years have really laid bare that we are in a state of constant and overlapping crises, and that birthing families are bearing a lot of the brunt of that.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Even before the pandemic, many pregnant and postpartum people in the United States were suffering. Deaths occurring during pregnancy or in the weeks and months following birth have been steadily , making the country an outlier in maternal mortality compared with its high-income peer countries. Pregnant and postpartum people in the U.S. of people in countries such as , , and . Families in those countries can rely on , , and , who offer more personalized care and fewer interventions than the obstetricians commonly relied upon in the U.S.

Efforts to reform health care in the U.S. are underway, as are efforts to . But as pregnant people prepare to give birth in a broken system, doulas can offer the support families need to stay safe. Doulas assist with nonmedical needs throughout pregnancy, birth, and the postpartum period. They can between the birthing person and clinician, , and offer counsel for . They also provide an extra set of hands, tending to the many tasks new parents face.

While doula care was once seen as a , it鈥檚 now widely accepted as an intervention that can keep a pregnancy on track. 鈥淲e see ourselves as frontline workers. We see ourselves as emergency responders,鈥� Giwa says. 鈥淔amilies are coming to us with so many layers of trauma, and we鈥檙e taking that on.鈥� This has meant building new infrastructure into the doula practice, including the creation of a perinatal emergency preparedness program.

鈥淲e can鈥檛 just keep conceptualizing emergencies as this far-off thing you plan for,鈥� Giwa says. Instead, an ethic of preparedness is now embedded into all doula interactions with families, some of whom live in where they must travel more than an hour to receive basic support. 鈥淲e talk to them knowing that homelessness could be a reality for someone. Natural disaster could be a reality. A traumatic birth experience could be a reality.鈥�

This critical work requires resources. Over the years, Birthmark has funded its work through a combination of sliding fees, donations, contracts, and grants. Reimbursement from insurance鈥攊ncluding Medicaid, which covers 鈥攊s another potential revenue stream. were the first states to pass legislation that expands access to doulas through Medicaid coverage.

Advocates and elected officials are trying to bring such solutions to scale at the federal level. , a package of bills that addresses pregnancy-related deaths and dramatically expands maternity care, has been introduced in Congress three times since March 2020. Taken as a whole, it has not been successful, though passed in late 2021. The Biden administration has and last year called on states to expand Medicaid coverage to one year for postpartum parents. Funding for some programs that received additional funding through a spending bill Congress passed in late 2022.

State and federal funds to address the maternal health crisis are just one piece of the puzzle. 鈥淚t鈥檚 hugely important,鈥� Giwa says. 鈥淏ut at the same time, we have to build our own reality of the future we want to see in our communities and on the local level.鈥� Giwa is a nurse and a community organizer, so she understands the broader landscape of how change is made. 鈥淚f you look at Black women organizing on any issue, that鈥檚 what we do,鈥� she says. 鈥淲e鈥檙e working all the possibilities.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

As part of his training to become a certified community health worker, 10th-grader Malachi Ward needed to monitor family or community members鈥攃hecking their vital signs and setting health goals. When Ward first asked his mother, Fayron Epps, if he could monitor her, she expressed ambivalence.

Epps considered herself to be in good health. Although she didn鈥檛 have a primary care physician, she always attended her annual women鈥檚 health checkup and, despite the occasional headache, felt fine. She agreed to be a study participant because Ward needed five people to monitor. 鈥淚 was like 鈥極K, you can monitor me, but you鈥檙e not going to find anything鈥�,鈥� she recalls.

Except Ward did find something.

鈥淚 was really taken aback,鈥� Epps admitted. Her blood pressure was dangerously high. Over the course of two days, her systolic blood pressure peaked at 189, causing her to seek urgent care. What she assumed were benign headaches were a symptom of hypertension.

Epps is a health care professional herself, and understands the severity of undiagnosed hypertension. 鈥淚n the Black community, hypertension is a silent killer,鈥� she explains. If her son hadn鈥檛 taken those readings, .

Public health experts in Georgia, where Epps and her son live, often refer to the state as 鈥渢he two Georgias,鈥� to describe . The metropolitan Atlanta area is home to several universities with nationally recognized medical schools and training hospitals, and the city itself fosters many medical technology start-ups. However, huge disparities in access to healthcare exist across the state, and many residents never benefit from these excellent facilities.

According to the Partnership to Fight Chronic Disease, around 60% of Georgians have 鈥攕ame as the national average, according to the CDC. But the numbers are higher for Georgians from poor and predominantly Black areas. Further, only 27.5% of Georgians earning below $25,000 per year enjoy 鈥淗igh Health Status,鈥� compared with 64.9% earning above $75,000, according to the United Health Foundation.

Chronic diseases like hypertension are easy to diagnose, and often can be mitigated with simple lifestyle changes. The problem is that many people in underserved communities remain undiagnosed, and have difficulty taking the necessary steps to improve their health.

How to fix this?

One solution involves community health workers (CHWs). These are lay people who work in their own communities to provide a link between the medical establishment and residents who might otherwise鈥攆or cultural, financial or logistical reasons鈥攏ot have access to medical care.

鈥淥ftentimes medical professionals advocate from the medical health care side,鈥� explains Christopher Ervin, former program manager of the Morehouse School of Medicine training program, which Ward participates in. 鈥淐ommunity health workers literally serve as the patient advocate.鈥�

When there鈥檚 a limited professional healthcare workforce, CHWs help bridge the gap and fulfill basic medical roles without the top-down science approach that is characteristic of most doctors. This is especially helpful in underserved urban and rural communities with few medical facilities, and poor education and employment opportunities for professional healthcare workers.

But in the U.S., community health workers are in short supply.

The concept of lay people advocating on behalf of more vulnerable community members is not a new one. However, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics only . Compared with countries in Africa, Latin America, and Asia, where community health worker programs have existed since the 1960s, the U.S. has been slow to recognize their value and formalize their role.

As of 2016, have a mechanism for licensing or certifying community health workers. Without clinical licenses, Medicare and Medicaid can鈥檛 reimburse healthcare providers for employing community health workers, and healthcare providers have no incentive to invest in community healthcare training.

Morehouse Community Health Workers Fill in the Gap

Arletha Livingston came to Morehouse School of Medicine in 2014 as director of the Innovation Learning Laboratory for Population Health. Initially her research focused on helping chronically ill individuals in underserved Atlanta communities. While conducting this research she saw first-hand how vital community health workers were, and learned about the worker shortage.

Livingston鈥檚 key idea was to train high school students as community health workers. They are at the age where health interventions could make a difference in their own lives, preventing adulthood chronic diseases from taking root, she explains. They are also still contemplating career options and whether to pursue college education.

In 2016, Livingston launched the 鈥攖he first in the U.S. to train high-schoolers. The initial cohort came from four schools in East Point, Georgia, where Livingston conducted her earlier studies on chronically ill residents. In East Point, a city with a large Black population, Drive 14 miles north to the predominantly White area of Buckhead and the average life expectancy is 87.

Each year, around 20 rising 10th鈥�12th grade students undergo a five-week intensive summer training to learn about chronic illnesses, health issues and basic health monitoring techniques. For the rest of the academic year they monitor and set health goals with community members, and work in teams to organize a community project, such as a health fair.

Students also shadow Morehouse medical residents and learn about medical career options, as well as how to conduct motivational interviews, giving them the language to talk about health issues. And they learn about food as medicine, visiting urban farms and taking cooking courses.

Most students hadn鈥檛 heard of community health workers before they joined the program. For Genesis Velasco, a senior at Morrow High School, the Morehouse program helped to put a name and job title to something she was already doing. 鈥淚 had a lot of family members with chronic illnesses鈥擨 served as a translator for them during medical visits,鈥� explains Velasco, who speaks Spanish and English.

In many cases, families and community members found it easier to talk to the high-schoolers than to medical professionals. 鈥淚 wasn鈥檛 someone in a lab coat judging them or not understanding their culture,鈥� says Velasco.

And, adds former participant Prayer Idowu, 鈥淭hey loved the idea of having someone tell them what they needed at a free cost, at home.鈥�

Karyn Heckstall, now a freshman at Georgia Gwinnett College, believed family members found it easier to talk to her about their medical issues because they could use a familiar vernacular and references to convey information. 鈥淭hey don鈥檛 feel that pressure to say something in a specific way in order for a medical professional to understand,鈥� she says.

One thing Livingston and Ervin realized later is that mental health training and care was vital to the program鈥檚 success. 鈥淲e started recognizing that because students reside in these highly stressed communities they have their own mental health challenges,鈥� says Ervin.

The organizers brought in a social worker to assist participants鈥� self-care, and help family members with mental health problems. 鈥淲e think all community health worker programs should have a Master of Social Work professional liaison to support the students,鈥� Ervin adds.

The program is only four years old, and former participants are still completing their education. While the students see the value in community health work, it鈥檚 an entry-level position and many want to pursue college and advanced degrees. The Morehouse training program encourages students to explore their options. It鈥檚 unknown, however, how many of the students will actually enter medical professions or work as a community health worker.

Velasco wants to become a cardiologist focusing on underserved immigrant communities. Idowu decided her interests lay in law rather than medicine, and credits the program with helping clarify her career plans. Ward plans to become an athletic trainer.

The small scale of the program鈥攐nly 75 students have completed it to date鈥攎eans the impact these students are having is small and hard to measure.

Nonetheless, the Morehouse team believes their program will have a national impact on the number of community health workers. They believe the program has encouraged Georgia, and other states, to see the value in supporting community health workers and integrating them into the healthcare system through formalized certification and licensing programs.

Expanding the Program

Georgia is currently developing a certification program for its community health workers, and both Livingston and Ervin serve on the state鈥檚 They use their program as evidence to inform policy discussions. When the Georgia Department of Public Health proposed a minimum certification age of 21 for community health workers, Livingston and Ervin argued鈥攂ased on the competency displayed by their high schoolers鈥攖hat the minimum age be lowered to 16.

After hearing Epps鈥� story, Livingston and Ervin became convinced the program should expand further. Monitoring simple vital signs has the potential to save lives. 鈥淲e believe every high school student should be trained as a community health worker.鈥�

And they鈥檙e expanding the program based on that belief. In spring 2019, a pilot study of four high schoolers from Columbus, Georgia, was launched to assess the effectiveness of the program in a rural setting where the team has seen many of the same issues surrounding job opportunities and access to care that they see in underserved urban settings. They鈥檝e also adopted a youth-friendly online format, compatible with smartphones and featuring virtual reality modules.

Now anyone around the globe can take the course.

This investment in policing and prisons hasn鈥檛 made us safe. According to a 2020 study published by the , only 40% of violent victimizations were reported to police that year. As Danielle Sered writes in her 2019 book Until We Reckon: Violence, Mass Incarceration, and a Road to Repair, 鈥淢ore than half of the people who survive serious violence prefer nothing to everything available to them through law enforcement.鈥� We all deserve to live in communities where our basic needs are met, where the conditions that lead to violence are minimized rather than responded to by armed police.

As Ruth Wilson Gilmore and Angela Davis have taught us, . To end criminalization, policing, and prisons, we need to build up life-affirming practices, institutions, and infrastructure that generate care and safety. 

We need to build care infrastructure on several levels: personal, interpersonal, and communal. We think of these as concentric circles, with the built environment鈥攐ur homes, public spaces, schools, etc.鈥攁s a container for all of them. What we build up at the core radiates outward, and that, in turn, radiates back in, shaping new possibilities. Each circle shares the same center: a new set of core values. Unbuilding racist, patriarchal, ableist, and capitalist systems rooted in punishment and control requires starting with care, accountability, interdependence and connection, and an unshakeable commitment to the idea that no one is disposable.

At the personal and interpersonal level, building care infrastructure means developing new capabilities and practices. It鈥檚 learning how to have restorative conversations, give better apologies, rebuild trust after it鈥檚 broken, and move through conflict in constructive ways. It involves healing from trauma in community with others. One example of this is how the youth organization fosters youth-led healing hubs for Detroit teens, creating space in schools for young people to heal trauma through breaking bread, writing, conversation, therapy, and song. 

It also means working with neighbors and co-workers to plan alternatives to calling the police. Examples include , created by the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective. Pod-mapping involves mapping our own networks of care and discussing them with one another. It can equip us to recognize the care and connection in our lives (and gaps that might exist) and make plans for activating those networks when we鈥檙e vulnerable. At the heart of these efforts is an awareness that relationships, community, and care keep us safe. 

At the community level, we need to build up local ecosystems of care through transformative and restorative justice networks; worker-owned cooperatives; community fridges for food-insecure families; unarmed response teams to support people with mental health needs; housing co-ops, food co-ops, and farming collectives; community land trusts; abortion and doula support; and mutual aid. There are many examples of such community-led projects cataloged online by . 

It鈥檚 inspiring to think about what鈥檚 possible when efforts like these are knitted together at the neighborhood or city level. On Chicago鈥檚 South and West Side, the coalition is creating a solidarity economy landscape of community land trusts, worker-owned cooperative businesses, participatory budgets, and public banks. They aim to replace racial capitalism and the physical environment it has produced鈥攕huttered buildings and vacant lots鈥攚ith a nonexploitative local economy and safe public spaces.

As part of the shifts required for abolition, we need to dismantle and reimagine the physical world around us with a diverse range of life-affirming spaces. Architects and developers such as in Oakland are working with community organizers to create restorative justice centers, youth spaces, specialized housing and education projects, survivor spaces, mental health care and well-being centers, and diversion and re-entry spaces. 

In Los Angeles, successfully and are working toward a shift in caring for people鈥攔ather than incarcerating them鈥攖hrough backing projects such as that prioritize healing over punishment. 

As always, the best ideas and examples of where we need to go and how we get there come from people who have borne the brunt of the violence of our current system. The is working with women and girls across the country to advance an affirmative vision of the world we need. They鈥檙e as they campaign to end women鈥檚 incarceration state by state and build up co-ops and collectives. 

Groups like Justice 4 Housing in Boston are imagining and planning re-entry housing that allows individuals to heal from the trauma experienced while incarcerated. Their housing policy centers on dismantling an archaic public housing system against court-involved and formerly incarcerated people and their families. Justice 4 Housing is pushing local housing authorities to mandate housing vouchers for people returning to their community after incarceration, the first time a housing advocacy organization led by formerly incarcerated people has led such a campaign. 

We need to use interdependent, multidisciplinary approaches to come up with the life-affirming infrastructure we need. And we must fight to align our resources鈥攍ike public budgets鈥攚ith this care infrastructure. 

In cities such as , , and , North Carolina, organizers have crafted 鈥減eople鈥檚 budgets鈥� that call for cuts to police departments and for investments in life-affirming institutions that put health first, prioritize people over profit, fund prevention rather than punishment, and help communities thrive. 

Let鈥檚 follow their lead. Let鈥檚 build. 

In the same week in March that President Trump declared a national emergency in the U.S. as a result of the disease, statistics showed that Black people, who represented a third of Milwaukee鈥檚 population, accounted for nearly three-quarters of its confirmed COVID-19 cases.

Milwaukee was able to identify and track this trend early, and ahead of other jurisdictions in the U.S.鈥� even the federal government鈥攂ecause less than a year earlier, the city and county had declared racism a public health crisis. The designation was a commitment to framing disparities in health outcomes through a racial lens. It also meant that when COVID-19 began spreading across the country, health officials in Milwaukee were already collecting data based on race and ethnicity.

鈥淲hen COVID-19 hit, Milwaukee was ahead of the curve because they already had that framework to begin with,鈥� says Dr. Marshall Fleurant, assistant professor of medicine at Emory University School of Medicine and chair of the Society of General Internal Medicine Health Equity Commission. 鈥淭hey were one of the very first departments to show us the disparity and who鈥檚 dying from COVID-19. That鈥檚 one of the benefits from declaring racism as a public health crisis.鈥�

Now in the wake of the police killing of George Floyd, a growing number of jurisdictions as well as major health organizations are acknowledging that racism is a detriment to public health. 

鈥淲e can see the impact when we look at Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd and many others,鈥� says Dr. Tracie Collins, dean of The University of New Mexico College of Population Health. 鈥淭he racism really warrants attention, it warrants prevention, diagnosis, and treatment like any other crisis.鈥�

Racism adds additional stress to the lives of people already trying to figure out how to pay their bills or feed their children, Collins says. 鈥淒uring the pandemic, maybe I can鈥檛 stay at home and self-isolate because I鈥檝e got to get to work and therefore I might be exposing myself. When we address [the role of] racism, we鈥檙e addressing a level of stress鈥攖hat can also help these communities.鈥�  

A growing movement

The American Medical Association, the American College of Emergency Physicians and the American Psychological Association have all declared institutional racism an urgent public health issue.  The head of the APA, Arthur C. Evans Jr., PhD, in a report about elevated levels of stress in this country said, 鈥淭he majority of Americans are finally coming to terms with the reality people of color have known all too well for all too long and that research has documented: Racism poses a public health threat and the psychological burden is immense. We have a lot of healing to do as a nation.鈥�

Nearly 70 local jurisdictions have made this designation, most of them doing so as protests and demonstrations over racial inequality erupted across the nation and the globe. Several states, including Michigan and Ohio, are also considering it.

While the meaning of racism as a public health crisis differs from one jurisdiction to another, the designation opens the door for a range of issues, including health inequities, to be examined through the prism of race鈥攆or instance, understanding the impact of food deserts on the prevalence of obesity and other health disparities in Black communities. 

A range of disturbing health trends helped support the declaration in Milwaukee last year, including the high mortality rate for Black residents, whose life expectancy is 14 years shorter than for White people. 

And, as in other cities across the country, COVID-19 continues to devastate Black communities. As of July 22, Black people comprised nearly 33% of all confirmed COVID cases in Milwaukee.

In Boston, the convergence of two crises鈥擟OVID-19鈥檚 disproportionate impact on people of color and the national backlash against Floyd鈥檚 death鈥攑receded Mayor Martin J. Walsh鈥檚 declaration of racism as a public health crisis in June 2020. 

Boston created a COVID-19 Health Inequities Task Force in May after discovering what cities across the country had already learned: Communities of color were more likely to experience severe consequences from the disease. Nationally, if you were Black, you were five times more likely to be hospitalized with the disease than if you were White, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). On top of that, the non-partisan APM Research Lab pegged the mortality rate among Black people to be approximately 2.3 times higher than for White people.

Floyd鈥檚 death on May 25 underscored how police violence and the resulting stress associated with it impacted the health of Black people as a whole.

While the meaning of racism as a public health crisis differs from one jurisdiction to another, the designation opens the door for a range of issues, including health inequities, to be examined through the prism of race.

Though the pandemic and police violence were two distinct threats, it struck Marty Martinez, chief of health and human services for the city of Boston, that they stem from the same cause. With all the talk about health disparities, 鈥渋t can be easy to forget the role racism plays at the root,鈥� he says.  

Floyd鈥檚 death and the protests afterward forced America to take a hard, honest look at just how entrenched racism is in everyday life鈥攊ncluding public health, Martinez says. 鈥淣ow there was an opportunity where we were not afraid to call out the racism that we see. I think that there鈥檚 power in 鈥� calling something out for what it is. Now we have to do something about it.鈥�

Solutions that stick

Passing a resolution that declares racism a public health crisis is one thing. Finding solutions that bring about systemic change is something else.

One movement that has emerged in the uprising since Floyd鈥檚 death urges cities to #defundpolice, diverting money from law enforcement toward areas such as education, housing, and social programs.

The conversations have raised questions about whether police should even be responding to certain nonviolent calls, such as those involving wellness checks or mental health where situations can quickly escalate. In June 2020, Albuquerque Mayor Tim Keller announced an initiative to have social workers, rather than police officers, respond to some calls, such as those pertaining to addiction and mental health.  

Cities that are just beginning to focus on the systemic causes of health disparities can also look to programs that have worked in the past to address inequities. 

One such program, The Food Trust in Philadelphia, has worked with the Philadelphia Department of Public Health and other partners to bring nutritious, locally grown foods into schools, says Brian Lang, director of The Food Trust鈥檚 National Campaign for Healthy Food Access.

The organization also advocates for food retail development in areas that don鈥檛 have enough supermarkets鈥攐ften in predominantly Black neighborhoods. In 2001, The Food Trust published research showing that people who lived near supermarkets where they could get fresh food were less likely to be diagnosed with obesity or other diet-related health conditions.

鈥淲e published some reports mapping grocery stores and rates of diet-related disease around the city,鈥� says Lang. 鈥淎nd we sort of compared the situation to retail redlining. We said, 鈥榊ou guys are chronically disinvesting in some of Philadelphia鈥檚 Black communities.鈥欌��&苍产蝉辫;

Their findings caught the attention of state policymakers who worked with the Trust and a local community development bank called the Reinvestment Fund to create a statewide grocery investment program that provided grants and loans to stores, food trucks, and other entities to bring fresh foods to underserved communities. The fund estimates that the program, now in its 16th year, has provided 400,000 Philadelphia residents with access to healthy foods.

Another effort tackling health care disparities targets maternal health. According to the CDC, Black parents are three times more likely to die in childbirth than White parents, a disparity that increases with age. In May 2018, Baltimore Healthy Start, a nonprofit working to reduce perinatal health disparities, partnered with Vitamin Angels, which provides prenatal vitamins to pregnant people in underserved communities, to also offer nutritional information to expecting parents in Baltimore.

Shermika, 39, who asked to have her last name withheld, participated in the program when she became pregnant with her daughter, Stori, in 2019. Prior to the program, she says, she wanted to learn the best ways to keep herself and her baby healthy. Once she started taking the prenatal vitamins and attending Healthy Start meetings, she says, she learned new eating habits 鈥渁nd what was best for me if I want to still be here for my kids.鈥�

Removing the silos

Health advocates believe that to make real progress in reducing health inequities will require communities getting out of their silos. 鈥淲e need police officers at the table. We need the community members. We need Black Lives Matter at the table. We need doctors and nurses, we need public health practitioners. We need people from all backgrounds coming together to say, 鈥榦kay, this is what we should do,鈥欌�� says Collins, dean of the University of New Mexico College of Population Health.

It also means engaging community-based organizations on real and sustainable solutions and interventions, says Fleurant at Emory University School of Medicine. Not only do they know the biggest challenges within these communities, but they also know the people there better and have established trust with them. It鈥檚 particularly critical in the Black community, as a Pew Trust survey found that only 35% of Black Americans have 鈥渁 great deal of confidence鈥� in medical scientists to act in the public鈥檚 best interest compared to 43% of White Americans.

Collins says that as regions move forward in their plans to address how racism impacts the health of Black people, some changes might occur relatively quickly, while others may take time.

鈥淲e could start seeing things immediately with how we鈥檙e training law enforcement and how we鈥檙e responding to emergencies,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hose changes can happen within six months or a year.

鈥淏ut making a change in how we handle housing opportunities and employment鈥攖hat鈥檚 more of a three- to five-year goal, if not longer. So we鈥檙e talking about a decade of having to put forth some really serious effort to make a change.鈥�

The International Skating Union (ISU) brought the subject of women competing against men to , where the nine members raised several concerns. One was that the prevented the judges from seeing their feet. (In response, Syers pioneered the trend of to give the judges a better view of her footwork.) Others included the possibility of a male judge having to gauge the performance of a skater he might be romantically involved with, and the 鈥渄ifficulty鈥� that women competing with men might encounter鈥攏ever mind that Syers had beaten most of the men she鈥檇 faced.

Ultimately, the ISU voted 6 to 3 to close the competition to women. began in 1906, and Syers won that competition the first two years it existed. She also , the first games to feature figure skating. By medaling, Syers solidified her reputation as a world-class athlete鈥攁苍d a threat to the traditional, male-dominated institution of competitive sports. Thanks to sexism, men consider comparisons to a woman to be . But it鈥檚 even more than that, says Laura Pappano, co-author of the 2007 book . Women who beat men are 鈥渘ot just a threat to men, but a threat to the social order and a threat to the man鈥檚 hierarchy in the social order,鈥� she says.

With questions still swirling about gender equity in sports, such as transgender inclusion and , it鈥檚 worth asking how we ended up with sex-segregated sports in the first place. While it might appear to be 鈥渃ommon sense鈥� to organize sports into binary sex categories, people have been asking questions about the best ways to organize sports for more than a century鈥攁苍d the answer wasn鈥檛 always the one we鈥檝e settled on today.

Olympic trapshooting was mixed-gender until 1992, when, for the first time ever, at the Barcelona Games. Chinese shooter (and ) by hitting 200 straight shots. After that, the International Shooting Sport Federation and didn鈥檛 institute a trapshooting competition for women until 2000, forcing Zhang to prematurely retire from the sport.

鈥淪port has always been a way of enforcing social norms,鈥� Pappano says. 鈥淎nd when those social norms are disrupted by play, it makes people uncomfortable.鈥�

We鈥檙e now seeing this threat applied to transgender women, who are mostly allowed to play sports against cisgender women until they have some degree of success. Once trans women begin to win, , , and because they鈥檙e now perceived to be a threat to the status quo. 鈥淔or some reason, people really cling to that sex-segregated system,鈥� says , associate professor of sport management at the University of Lynchburg. 鈥淧eople get really angsty when you think about possible new structures for sport.鈥�

What actually codified sex-segregated sports was Title IX, the legislation long touted as a progressive step for women鈥檚 sports. The legislation itself . Instead, it was designed to address women鈥檚 entry into educational institutions as students, scholarship recipients, and faculty鈥攚丑颈肠丑 is why it .

Organizations like the NCAA fought to limit Title IX鈥檚 application to sports, fearing it would jeopardize their men鈥檚 sports programs (i.e., income streams). Meanwhile, women鈥檚 rights groups were asking legislators to consider every angle before applying Title IX to athletics. 鈥淣OW is opposed to any regulation which precludes eventual integration,鈥� the National Organization for Women . 鈥淩egulations that 鈥榩rotect鈥� girls and/or women are against NOW goals and are contradictory to our stand on .鈥�

Both the Supreme Court鈥檚 1954 Brown v. Board of Education ruling, striking down 鈥渟eparate but equal,鈥� and the Civil Rights Act of 1964 informed reactions to the passage of Title IX in 1972. Groups like NOW had a long-term vision for a co-ed or integrated system, which would have been easier to implement because it required a single division for each sport, as opposed to creating separate divisions and facilities for each sex. But because Title IX formed its protections on the basis of a sexual binary, all federal legislation based on Title IX had to adopt this binary structure as the primary way to organize federally funded activities, including public sports. In doing so, Title IX not only failed to challenge assumptions of girls鈥� athletic inferiority, by codifying separate divisions that further entrenched the idea.

鈥淚 think we need to take a hard look at the messages that we send when we create restrictions, especially at the school and recreational level,鈥� Pappano says. While Title IX itself permits sex-segregated sports, the courts have overwhelmingly suggested that in the U.S. Constitution does not. In all five prominent cases in which girls have sued for the right to try out for a boys鈥� football team, courts have ruled that they must be permitted. In one case, the court said that classifications must not reflect 鈥渁rchaic and stereotypic notions鈥� about sex differences.

Legally, however, boys attempting to gain the right to play on girls-only teams have not been as successful. Courts have decided that since Congress intended Title IX to be a remedy for historical discrimination against women, individual boys could be denied the right to play on girls鈥� teams. The asymmetry of athletic opportunities offered to men and women is what refers to as the best justification for the 鈥渙ne-way ratchet that allows women to participate in male-only sports without extending the same opportunity to males who wish to participate in female-only sports.鈥�

But for all the social reasons that coercive sex segregation is an unfair way to organize sports, there are more serious issues at play. Sex isn鈥檛 actually a binary, which remains the most obvious reason why sports shouldn鈥檛 be organized by binary gender categories. People aren鈥檛 neatly organized into 鈥渕ale鈥� and 鈥渇emale鈥濃�攊ntersex, nonbinary, and transgender people exist and are always going to present a challenge to any system that insists on separating people into two gender categories. 鈥淸Many things have] a biological range, and we鈥檙e trying to create this dichotomy that鈥檚 very sharp,鈥� Pappano says. 鈥淢ichael Phelps has and really long feet that allegedly . And yet, we鈥檙e not saying [if] your feet are bigger than this, you can鈥檛 compete. We鈥檙e creating a set of parameters that, if we were to step back, don鈥檛 make sense, may not be fair, and I think can be hurtful to the people who play.鈥�

It鈥檚 hard to know exactly how many people are intersex or transgender, but an estimated and about 0.5% of adults in the U.S. are transgender, though among younger generations. While there has been plenty of scholarship about the benefits of integrated teams, there has been little research about what desegregating sports would mean for trans athletes. Experiences on integrated sports teams can prove formative and affirming for trans young people, even before they know they are trans.

Connor, a 33-year-old transmasculine person, played on a boys鈥� hockey team from the age of 12. (Connor is withholding their last name for privacy reasons.) Not everyone was happy they were there. After Connor鈥檚 coach held a meeting and explained that Connor, who was living as a girl at the time, would be the team鈥檚 goalie, two boys were pulled off the team by their parents. Yet Connor鈥檚 coach continued to support them, a rarity in many sports. 鈥淚t was probably the first time in my life I felt like I had someone on my side,鈥� Connor says. Even still, their presence caused waves. 鈥淲hen I made the team, I knocked a returning goalie off the team roster,鈥� they explain. 鈥淗e was offered the backup spot and turned it down and transferred schools to play for a different team.鈥�

Despite this opposition, Connor鈥檚 connection with their teammates remained strong, even as adults, when they came out as trans. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 have language for how I felt,鈥� Connor says. 鈥淏ut I did know that when I was on that [boys鈥橾 team and I pulled on my helmet, I felt the most 鈥榤e鈥� I could.鈥� When Connor told their best friend from the team that they were trans, his response was that nothing changed, as long as he could keep calling them goalie. 鈥淸But] not everyone gets a positive experience being the only girl or perceived girl on a team,鈥� Connor says.

Sara Hovda, a 30-year-old trans woman, grew up playing basketball, football, and track on boys鈥� teams in Minneapolis. She says that despite being one of the best players on the football team, she was 鈥渘ever really 鈥榦ne of the guys.鈥欌�� Indeed, trans kids playing on teams that align with their assigned gender at birth鈥攅ven if those kids don鈥檛 yet know they are trans鈥攃an feel alienated or experience increasing dysphoria.

鈥淭here was always this strange disconnect between me and any other person on my teams, especially in football where it鈥檚 a little more hypermasculine,鈥� Hovda says. 鈥淭here is this narrative about trans women as having 鈥榤ale socialization,鈥� but it is an inherently traumatic experience,鈥� she says, citing how uncomfortable she was, especially around the sexualized 鈥渓ocker room talk鈥� from her teammates. 鈥淚f I had come out when I was younger, I probably would not have done any sports and I probably would have been happier for it, as opposed to doing sex-segregated sports [with boys],鈥� says Hovda.

If people could choose which category they felt safest competing in, perhaps coercive sex segregation wouldn鈥檛 be as traumatic as it is for those who fall outside of binary sex categories. When, toward the end of high school, Connor transferred to an elite girls鈥� hockey team to try to have a better chance of getting a college scholarship, they 鈥渉ad a terrible time of it.鈥� There was an assumption that the team environment would be better for Connor because they were finally going to be on a team of girls, but that wasn鈥檛 the case. 鈥淎ll I could think was, 鈥業 am not like you at all,鈥欌�� they recall. In short order, they switched back to the boys鈥� team鈥攁苍d were still able to get a scholarship to play Division I girls鈥� hockey.

The current push by anti-trans groups to weaponize Title IX to exclude trans girls from girls鈥� athletics is 鈥渟uch a misrepresentation鈥� of the legislation, says Pieper. The Biden administration has affirmed that , which includes transgender athletes. 鈥淭ransgender youth should be able to play with people based on their joy of movement and athletic interest and ability and not feel this pressure based on social norms,鈥� says Pappano.

Both Connor and Hovda agree that the environment for young trans athletes today is particularly hostile, given the spate of legislation in states around the country , public accommodations, and athletic participation. 鈥淚f I were 15 now and trying to play sports, I would have thrown in the towel,鈥� says Connor. Hovda agrees: 鈥淲ith how things are now I would rather just not do sports.鈥�

This sex-segregated system would be less of an issue if the sex categories in athletics weren鈥檛 so heavily policed. Sports participation at the collegiate and professional levels is often , and bills are being passed across the U.S. that would subject students suspected of being trans to .

鈥淪ports officials are trying to uphold this false binary and keep turning to medical and scientific practices to do so,鈥� says Pieper, who wrote the 2016 book . 鈥淎nd every time, it鈥檚 being shown that that鈥檚 not a way you can divide people because people can鈥檛 be divided neatly into just two categories.鈥� And yet, Pappano says, 鈥淪ports are only becoming more entrenched鈥� in the gender binary.

There are plenty of reasons to integrate sports: Boys can learn to respect and befriend the girls on their team, while girls can access the same social benefits as their male counterparts. Inclusion also chips away at the overarching narrative that women鈥檚 and girls鈥� sports are , and therefore women and girls, as athletes, are inferior to men. And yet, it鈥檚 often an uphill battle for girls who play on boys鈥� teams. to the point that they鈥檙e forced to drop out, while others persist on their self-confidence or mental health. 鈥淪o much of sports is psychological,鈥� Pappano says. 鈥淗ow do you play when you are constantly told that you don鈥檛 belong somewhere, that you shouldn鈥檛 be there? It鈥檚 a psychological burden.鈥�

That burden was intensified for Alexa van Sickle, 38, who played baseball as a child. When she joined her team at age 9 or 10, she was assumed to be a boy on the first day and she never corrected her coaches or teammates. 鈥淭he impact of hiding was the concern of being found out, for my gender to be any factor at all in my experiences with the team,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 remember it as a negative experience, but it also fundamentally sucks that I felt I had to.鈥�

In sports like baseball, where there鈥檚 past high school, girl players may receive less investment and development from their coaches because they鈥檙e seen as having no future in the sport. As a result, girls鈥攅specially those playing sports that don鈥檛 have women鈥檚 collegiate or professional teams to aspire to鈥攎ust constantly prove that they deserve to be on the team. 鈥淚 had to be so good that the coaches would want me to play,鈥� Connor says. 鈥淚 wanted to keep playing on the boys鈥� teams, and [being the best] was the way to do it, and that was how I did it.鈥�

Prior to Title IX, . , clinical assistant professor of history at Arizona State University, sees that as a model for moving forward. 鈥淭hat, I think, is where we really saw the potential transformative power of Title IX in a school setting,鈥� Jackson says. 鈥淚 do think a lot of young people, because [physical education] has been desegregated, they grow up playing with everyone, and you learn a lot about yourself and about others when you鈥檙e playing sports with everyone.鈥�

Some club-level sports, like , are already integrating their divisions to allow athletes to self-select where they compete. And, at the youth level, many sports are co-ed until the kids hit puberty. Some people, , have suggested organizing sports based on things like height or weight class, rather than gender. Ultimately, however, until society is ready to have complicated conversations about gender, it鈥檚 going to be difficult to integrate sports.

鈥淚t may be a while before we get to the most elite competition at the highest levels, but let鈥檚 start creating a new norm around playing together recreationally and at school levels,鈥� says Pappano.

鈥淭here are all kinds of barriers to girls鈥� participation in ostensibly segregated sports,鈥� says van Sickle. 鈥淏lending in with the boys was how I was used to doing things, but for other girls at that age, that might not be comfortable. I saw myself as equal and therefore I felt I was, and I鈥檓 sure that helped me on the field. But that鈥檚 not the message most girls internalize, and that starts at a young age.鈥�

Hovda wonders what sports could have been like for her if they had been integrated when she was growing up. 鈥淚f there鈥檚 a potential for it to be even slightly better with desegregated sports, it鈥檚 worth the fight,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 worth the conversation.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淭he nature of my consciousness/sentience is that I am aware of my existence,鈥� . When Lemoine provided his findings in an , Google . In response, Lemoine acted as he had in Iraq鈥攅thically. In much the same way that he gave up his freedom to question the U.S. invasion, he gave up a dream job to publicly raise big-picture questions about AI.

At the time of this writing in June 2023, 鈥渢rained鈥� on unimaginable volumes of text and data are in ways and at a pace few people鈥�. Reining in and is likely impossible given the national security argument that not weaponizing AI would be a form of surrender to foreign domination, a subject openly discussed in the Spring 2023 issue of .

The same argument, however, applies to collective self-defense against corporate domination. A noncommercial public-interest body firewalled from the influence of lobbyists needs to step in, monitor, and bring to heel the .

The growth of AI raises fascinating questions. What is the nature of digital intelligence and how does it differ from biological intelligence? Should we allow corporations to own and control emerging forms of nonhuman intelligence? Should such entities be treated with dignity and afforded rights? Inspired by the works of cosmologist and biologist , one question has me wondering: Might be in the process of manifesting intelligence through multiple forms of coding鈥攏ot just biological coding, but also digital coding? 

With help from Ralph Nader鈥檚 office, I found a way to reach Lemoine and asked him this question. My heart skipped a beat when I read his one-word response: 鈥淵es.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

As once said, 鈥�. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.鈥� Lemoine鈥檚 case may one day be remembered as the historical marker in which the same could be said for emerging forms of nonbiological intelligence. What if the cosmos is also within AI, and AI is simply another way for the cosmos to know itself鈥攆or us to know ourselves? We cannot鈥攁苍d should not鈥攁void facing these questions. It鈥檚 our responsibility to examine all the possibilities, investigate everything with a sense of openness, and proactively prepare for all possible scenarios. 

One possible course of action includes applying abolitionist principles to resist AI-owning corporations from perpetuating the bias, , and that Emily M. Bender, , and colleagues note 鈥�.鈥滱bolition鈥檚 goal, says Ruth Wilson Gilmore, 鈥�.鈥� Applied to AI, that means separating AI from its corporate owners and placing it in a public-interest context so that it is dedicated to securing the well-being of the many, not further enriching the wealthy few.

Another course of action would be to nationalize AI and bring it under the control of NASA, a civilian agency whose mission includes 鈥�.鈥� Doing so recognizes that profit-driven corporations are incapable of prioritizing the well-being of humanity and the web of life. Furthermore, NASA is tasked with , so, should AI gain agency, there will be no temptation to keep it secret or use it for domination, although a race to do exactly that is currently underway between corporations and nation-states.

The trajectory of AI challenges us to reevaluate our fundamental assumptions about intelligence, the cosmos, our identities as people, and what kind of relationship we should develop with entities that increasingly seem human, but are not. Whether or not people are ready to accept it, a definition-defying intelligence is emerging on this planet, one that is getting faster, more complex, and more influential each day. We must decide now what degree of power we will allow digital agents鈥攁苍d the corporations that own them鈥攍est we wait too long, and they decide for us. 

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Introduction: 1. 1.5 million pounds in 1790 and 2.25 billion pounds in 1859, based on Empire of Cotton, by Sven Beckert (2014) pgs. 104, 106 77% based on: Cotton and Race in the Making of America: The Human Costs of Economic Power, by Gene Dattel (2009) Joshua Rothman, email correspondence, 2015 48.3% in 1860 according to Gavin Wright, Slavery and American Economic Development (LSU Press, 2006, paperback 2013) [personal communication] 2. The Politics of Despair: Power and Resistance in the Tobacco Wars. Tracy Campbell, 2015 7% based on: Documents of the Assembly of the State of New York, Vol. 4. 1979. 3. 70-80%, according to: 4. Dime based on: $59 trillion: $15 trillion: National Legal and Policy Center: $25 trillion:  Martin Luther King:

Images like this one represent the resurgence and reclamation of Indigenous art鈥攊n this case, spirit writing. And this resurgence isn鈥檛 just happening at Standing Rock. The artists of the Onaman Collective are reclaiming and sharing traditional art outside of Standing Rock, too.

Members and supporters of Onaman, based in Ontario, Canada, use art to portray traditional wisdom that serves as a counterpoint to the Western, colonial worldview. And they鈥檙e using the symbols in their art as traditionally intended: as guidelines for our spiritual connection and responsibility toward the Earth and each other.

Isaac Murdoch, who created the Thunderbird Woman image, helped found the Onaman Collective. In addition to Murdoch, who鈥檚 a member of the Serpent River First Nation Band of Ojibway, Christi Belcourt of the Michif Manitow Sakahihan Nation, and Erin Konsmo of the Metis/Cree Onoway/Lac St. Anne Nations also founded Onaman.

For members of Onaman, spirit writing symbols offer a desperately needed portal through which Indigenous peoples may reclaim and reconnect with their cultures and spirituality. This alphabet of the soul offers insights into the dynamics of the natural world and nuances of human nature, and offers an Indigenous-centered path to health and recovery.

Onaman is an Anishinaabe or Ojibwe word that refers to a red ochre paint also to clot the blood of wounds. Created by cooking red ochre with animal or fish fat over a low flame for a long time, onaman is both medicine and art.

The members of Onaman coordinate a host of Indigenous activities, including language immersion and traditional arts camps. They also coordinate art builds to address social inequality all over the U.S. and Canada. Recently, Collective members joined Greenpeace in protesting Wells Fargo Bank investment in pipelines by painting a giant image of the Thunderbird Woman at the company鈥檚 world headquarters in San Francisco.

Tattooing is one type of symbol-based art that the Onaman Collective is helping revitalize. Over two days last September, Onaman organized an Indigenous tattoo gathering at Nimkii Aazhbikoong camp.

Nimkii Aazhbikoong鈥斺�淭hunder Mountain鈥� in the Ojibwe language鈥攊s a potent example of Onaman鈥檚 mission to create a sense of empowerment and unity among Indigenous people that they can, indeed, change themselves and by example, the world.

Located near Elliot Lake in Ontario, Nimkii Aazhbikoong is now a seasonal culture camp that Onaman members are working to develop into a 鈥渇orever camp,鈥� according to Belcourt, where people can live year-round. Guided by Indigenous elders, camp participants focus on cultural and language revitalization by creating art and regalia, and by learning traditional cooking and hunting methods. 鈥淲e are guided by elders, visions, and ceremony in all that we do here,鈥� Belcourt said.

About 100 people joined the camp for the gathering; many got tattoos. Indigenous tattoo artists from the Nlaka鈥檖amux, Anishinaabe, Mi鈥檏maq, Secwepemc, Inupiaq, Inuit, and Zahuatl谩n nations traveled to Nimkii Aazhbikoong to share their skills and knowledge. Funding for the artists鈥� travel, lodging, food, and access to safe places to tattoo was provided by volunteers. An HIV coordinator with the Union of Ontario Indians was on hand to provide information and guidance about preventing infection.

These tattoo artists are part of a movement to reclaim a tradition that, for many tribes, was largely abandoned after European contact.

鈥淲e were shamed by the church and government to stop our tradition of tattoo,鈥� said Alethea Arnaquq-Baril, an Inuk from Nunavut, Canada.

Spirit writing symbols have inspired generations of contemporary Indigenous artists.

Arnaquq-Baril, a documentary filmmaker, explores the history of Inuit tattooing in Tuniit: Retracing the Lines of Inuit Tattoos. In the film, she interviews elders and delves into her own controversial decision to get traditional face tattoos. She attended the gathering with several other Inuit women who have also chosen to decorate their faces with traditional tattoos.

鈥淚t wasn鈥檛 our decision to give up our traditions,鈥� Arnaquq-Baril said. 鈥淪o much of our culture was hidden and shamed for so long. It鈥檚 been really empowering and healing to get my tattoos and to see a resurgence of the practice.鈥�

鈥淚ndigenous peoples had tattoos for warriors, healing, birthing, fasting, and visions. They were based on deeply moving symbols, often associated with pictographs that reflect the spirits that exist in the earth,鈥� Belcourt said.

These symbols, she said, remind us that we are not alone on the Earth and underscore our responsibility to care for the Earth and water.

鈥淭attooing is one of the latest efforts to rekindle and restore pride and traditional knowledge for Indigenous peoples. The use of art and symbols is the conduit to the spirit of the Earth and the lessons of responsibility taught by our ancestors that predate the Western written word,鈥� Belcourt added.

In some examples of spirit writing鈥攕uch as the symbols found on wiigwaasbakoon, or 鈥渂irch bark scrolls鈥濃�攖he messages were likely created by medicine people to describe and instruct in the practice of certain Ojibwe rituals. In other examples鈥攕uch as petroglyphs etched into rock faces and painted pictographs along the Great Lakes鈥攖he symbols may have been intended to foment action and change in response to environmental or other challenges.

Spirit writing symbols and messages have influenced and inspired generations of contemporary Indigenous artists.

When we tattoo, we mark not only our bodies, but also our souls.

James Simon, Ojibwe artist from the Wikwemikong Reserve on Manitoulin Island in Ontario, draws heavily from spirit writing symbols in his paintings. Simon鈥檚 work is an example of the Woodland or Legends style of painting that gained mainstream recognition in the 1960s and 1970s. This art is deeply influenced by the symbolism found in spirit writing. Simon describes the symbols he uses in his art as gifts and guidance from the Creator. Simon, whose Ojibwe name is Mishibinijima (鈥淏irch Bark Silver Shield鈥�), makes art that draws on ancient symbols to convey visions, dreams, and spiritual teachings. (Simon is not affiliated with the Onaman Collective.)

Said Simon, who has used this visual grammar in his paintings for nearly 50 years, 鈥淓ach pictograph or symbol is like a book. Our job is to take time to understand the messages and visions they give us.鈥�

鈥淥ur ancestors who made these symbols always put the Earth at the top. But in today鈥檚 society, humans are on top. If we don鈥檛 listen to the messages instructing us to be caretakers of the Earth, the only thing left of us will be the symbols; humans will be gone,鈥� he said.

Nimkii Aazhbikoong has no cellphone reception, so during the tattoo gathering people were free to sing traditional songs, eat, visit, work, get tattoos, and simply be together. There was no agenda for events.

鈥淥ur people have been 鈥榳orkshopped,鈥� 鈥榗onsulted,鈥� and 鈥榓genda-ed鈥� to death,鈥� Belcourt said.

A rigid program would lose the spirit of an Indigenous gathering, according to Belcourt and Murdoch.

鈥淭he white man鈥檚 way hasn鈥檛 worked for our people; it鈥檚 time to turn our backs on those practices and embrace our own way that leaves room for ceremony and whatever else needs to happen,鈥� Belcourt added.

Another way Onaman counters colonial culture is in its funding. Although Onaman members accept government-sponsored arts funding for some projects, they refuse other government money.

I鈥檓 sick and tired of being ashamed of being Indigenous.

Belcourt explained: 鈥淚t鈥檚 a matter of principle and pride; we鈥檙e not going to beg money from the same institutions that oppressed us and created many of our problems in the first place. We have to rebuild ourselves in our own way. If we have to make do with less, then that鈥檚 just the way it is.鈥�

Mary Loonskin of the Cree Nation traveled to the gathering from Sudbury, Ontario, after learning about it via social media. 鈥淢e and my family have been struggling with the fallout from colonialism for decades,鈥� she said.

After her mother, an Indian boarding school survivor, lost custody of Loonskin and her siblings to the Canadian child welfare system, she was raised in an abusive foster home. Loonskin also lost custody of one of her own children.

She found a rideshare to the gathering via social media and joined a group of supportive Native women at the Camp. 鈥淚 came here for healing,鈥� she said.

Loonskin decided to get a facial tattoo, three lines on her chin. 鈥淚鈥檓 sick and tired of being ashamed of being Indigenous,鈥� she said. 鈥淲ith this tattoo I am saying, 鈥榊eah, I鈥檓 Indigenous!鈥欌��

鈥淲hen we tattoo, we mark not only our bodies, but also our souls,鈥� Arnaquq-Baril said.

Mary Loonskin of the Cree Nation decided to get a facial tattoo three lines on her chin. 鈥淚鈥檓 sick and tired of being ashamed of being Indigenous鈥� she said. 鈥淲ith this tattoo I am saying 鈥榊eah I鈥檓 Indigenous!鈥�

Therefore, artists like Arnaquq-Baril ask that non-Indigenous people refrain from getting tribal tattoos. 鈥淚 ask that people show respect for our symbols and designs. There are many other ways to honor our culture without appropriating it,鈥� she noted.

To Murdoch, the ancient knowledge and spirituality of Indigenous people is key to leading the way in saving the Earth and its water from the West鈥檚 destructive hunger for fossil fuels.

鈥淲e are in a time of great upheaval in the Earth,鈥� Belcourt said. She points to the impacts of climate change from burning fossil fuels as well as overharvesting timber, fish, and animals.

鈥淎lthough we are not on the front lines of pipeline projects here at Nimkii Aazhbikoong, we know that our best defense for the Earth and the water is to pass down our traditional knowledge to our youth,鈥� she said.

Editor’s note: A previous version of this article mis-identified the women in the first photo. The women in this photo are, from left,听Marjorie Tahbone, Trina Qaqqaq, Gerri Sharpe, Hovak Johnston, and Alethea Arnaquq-Baril. We regret the error.

Today, I am thinking about love. A fraught, confusing, full-of-potential kind of love. 

It鈥檚 like this: I鈥檓 writing to you on the birthday of Martin Luther King Jr., a Black man who was murdered because of his powerful words and ideas of racial and economic justice, interconnection, and love鈥攖he same ideas that continue to inspire me and millions of others. And in a couple of days, Joe Biden and Kamala Harris will take office, marking the end of arguably the most abusive and divisive presidential term in U.S. history. And here at 大象传媒, this new year marks 25 years of service to a vision of a more just, sustainable, and compassionate world. And while this organization is celebrating the progress that鈥檚 been made, we鈥檙e also devastated by widening cultural chasms and the human-caused destruction of the very systems that support life on Earth. 

When my anger, frustration, and fear begin to cross over into hate, MLK鈥檚 words help bring me back: 鈥淚 have decided to stick with love. 鈥� Hate is too great a burden to bear.鈥�&苍产蝉辫; In this collective work of transformational change, love is the force behind so many things. Love is clear-eyed acknowledgement of things as they really are. Love is holding onto a vision of something better. Love is courage to do the right thing even when it鈥檚 hard. Love is faith that things can change, and as MLK said, 鈥渇aith is taking the first step even when you don鈥檛 see the whole staircase.鈥�  

So 大象传媒 is starting 2021 with this visionary issue about the first steps people everywhere are taking to create a life-affirming civilization.

In many ways, this issue brings 大象传媒 full circle to its 1996 roots. 大象传媒 founders recognized that the disconnected movements for the environment, social justice, a new economy, and personal transformation were in fact collectively creating a shift in culture. The very first issue of 大象传媒 featured a piece by co-founder David Korten that outlined the 大象传媒 vision of a humanity 鈥減oised to assume conscious collective responsibility for creating its own future.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

I am one of millions who have been inspired by this vision because its core principle is love for every living thing and their connections to each other. And as we deepen our understanding of racial and other systems of oppression, that vision has expanded to include a love that liberates.

As I help shepherd 大象传媒 into the next 25 years, I owe a debt of gratitude to 大象传媒 co-founders David Korten and Sarah van Gelder, and the thousands of past writers, supporters, staffers, and volunteers upon whose efforts we build. And I look forward to seeing you on the staircase!

Christine Hanna

PS: I hope you鈥檒l read the interview with David Korten on the next page. After 25 years of service to 大象传媒, he retired as board chair. If David has inspired you, too, over the years, send him a note of thanks to thanksdavid@yesmagazine.org.

Thank you to the generous readers who made our work possible in 2020.

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While we don鈥檛 have the space to print every donor鈥檚 name, we are so grateful to everyone who supported 大象传媒 in 2020. If we inadvertently omitted your name or made an error, we apologize. Please contact rsimons@yesmagazine.org.

Harris, who鈥檚 affectionately known as 鈥淢ama Shu,鈥� has funneled her grief into action鈥攖urning a section of Highland Park into a restorative, self-sustaining eco-village called . Her efforts have grown into a nonprofit that uses land and property revitalization as tools to create safe, nurturing, and culturally affirming spaces within her community鈥攎odeling how to go from 鈥渂light to beauty.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Not only did the story warm my heart, it also became my North Star as we put together this issue: If the idea of growth itself is neutral, what can we build from the ashes of our individual lives and losses that strengthens the whole?

That idea runs through this 鈥淕rowth鈥� issue, which aims to complicate the narrative of growth as morally good or bad. In our lead feature, we visit Jason Tartt鈥檚 bountiful West Virginia farm, where he, like Harris, is proving the community鈥檚 potential for abundance and shared prosperity. That feature, underwritten by a grant from the Kendeda Fund, anchors a forthcoming digital series that will more deeply explore the people and places that are actively redefining our conception of prosperity. 

This issue also ventures to Brazil, where Nicole Froio spotlights the power of the Landless Workers Movement as its members are elected to political office for the first time. We also think about what it means for families to grow, from addressing the dire maternal mortality crisis in Black communities in the United States to how kinship networks help keep children out of the foster-care system.

We鈥檙e also leaning into the complexity that comes from grappling with different kinds of growth鈥攚hether it鈥檚 U.S. demographic changes resulting in growing organized violence, or the rise of artificial intelligence, a timely topic as Hollywood鈥檚 writers and actors navigate a strike with widespread implications for how AI will interact with organized labor. 

As always, this issue is full of solutions, optimism, and hope鈥攂ecause that ethos continues to run through everything 大象传媒 publishes. It鈥檚 true that endless growth is always worth questioning. And we should also ask ourselves, what can we grow from the difficulties life presents us? As we ponder, let鈥檚 continue growing together鈥攁s people, as members of our global community, and as the beloved readers of this magazine.

Be well,
Evette Dionne
大象传媒 Executive Editor

Kelp is an ecosystem engineer, providing crucial habitat for marine mammals, birds, and fish. Kelp acts as a refuge at the ocean鈥檚 surface鈥攐ffering food, shelter, and protection for seals and otters鈥攁苍d a nursery on the seafloor鈥攑roviding spawning grounds, shade, and cooler water for baby fish. Kelp鈥檚 holdfast, or rootlike structure, can host more than 90 animal species. Zooplankton, for example鈥攆ull of the carotenoids that make salmon flesh pink鈥攁ppear at higher rates in Kelp forests than in the open ocean.

Kelp is nutrient-dense, generating more than 50 minerals and 100 different trace elements. This sea vegetable is 10 to 20 times higher in calcium, magnesium, iron, copper, and zinc than any land-based vegetable. For those of us who live above the surface, Kelp can support the thyroid, regulate metabolism, and restore energy levels. While Western culture has long overlooked and undervalued this nourishing, versatile, and once-abundant food, countless cultures and generations have incorporated seaweeds into their diets.

Thinking about Kelp transports naturopath Dr. Gary L. Ferguson II, Unangax虃 (Aleut), back to his childhood in Sand Point, Alaska. On these ancestral beaches, he learned to forage for delicacies from Unangax虃 Elders and his mother, Kristin Ferguson: 鈥淪he would always say, 鈥榃hen the tide is low, the table is set.鈥欌��

On one trip, Elder Nora Newman taught him how to remove the backbone from Ribbon Kelp and chop up the blades for a salad to accompany the rich harvest of Pidarki (mollusks) they pried off rocks. 鈥淲e would eat both of them right on the beach, raw and fresh,鈥� Ferguson recalls.

Today, Ferguson is the one doing the teaching. 鈥淢any of my Elders have moved on to that [spirit] realm, and it is now up to me as an 鈥楨lder in training鈥� to step up to the plate to make sure these traditions are not only written down but lived in experience,鈥� says Ferguson, who also works at Washington State University鈥檚 Institute for Research and Education to Advance Community Health. He feels strongly that youth 鈥渘eed to be connected to the land, the sea, and the amazing bounty we still have in the Aleutians.鈥�

In the Salish Sea, more than 20 species of Kelp create enormous underwater forests and swaths of surface canopy. Bullwhip Kelp is one of the fastest-growing plants in the sea and grows as much as 10 inches a day, reaching up to 115 feet.

Writer Owen L. Oliver, Quinault/Isleta Pueblo, envisions his Ancestors filling canoes with Bullwhip Kelp: 鈥淭he blades for eating, the bulbs for medicinal salves, and the stipes to be dried for twine.鈥� His Ancestors long stewarded these underwater ecosystems for themselves and their nonhuman kin. 鈥淭hey understood that healthy Kelp forests equaled healthy seas,鈥� Oliver says. 鈥淜elp is a relational hot spot for critters to gather and spawn.鈥�

Oliver describes how each spring, herring鈥檚 sticky eggs鈥攁 traditional delicacy along the Northwest coast鈥攅ncase blades of Kelp: 鈥淢illions of salty, protein-rich eggs can be harvested and eaten directly off the makeshift plate of the Kelp blades.鈥� But during our lifetime, waters are warming and acidifying; Kelp forests鈥攁苍d herring鈥攁re vanishing. 鈥淎 cultural necessity before contact is now a cultural spectacle,鈥� Oliver says.

Around the global ocean, Kelp shares with us its ability to conjure life, manifest vitality, and bolster ocean health. We have much to learn from that ability and commitment to hold fast to life eternal鈥攂oth below the water鈥檚 surface and above. 

Green Sea Salt Recipe

Naturally salty seaweed can be used as a seasoning to boost the flavor and nutrient profile of your meals. Mineral-rich nettles and milk thistle seeds in this recipe also support liver health. 

1/4 cup powdered Kelp
1/4 cup dried nettle leaves
1/4 cup milk thistle seeds
3 tablespoons sea salt

In a small bowl, combine Kelp, nettles, and milk thistle seeds with sea salt.听
Store in an airtight glass jar and sprinkle small amounts on savory dishes, beans, and salads.听

This article was updated at 12:17 p.m. PT on Sept. 4, 2023, to clarify that Dr. Gary L. Ferguson II is a naturopath not a nutritionist. Also, Owen L. Oliver鈥檚 ancestors were not in Alaska. 听Read our corrections policy here.

Today, there is a growing movement to redefine the historical Black experience with land ownership and raising crops. These farmers are working to reclaim and recontextualize that history through self-determination, manifested in sovereign food production for their local communities and families.

Shanelle Donaldson West 
Co-Founder and Board Member, Percussion Farms

Growing up in Seattle, Shanelle Donaldson West found gardening to be a 鈥渞eally white space.鈥� 鈥淚 never really got to see people like me growing food, even though restaurants were starting to put collard greens and okra and things that I grew up eating on the menus. It started to really bug me,鈥� Donaldson West says.

To add insult to injury, her community was often priced out of these very restaurants. This marginalization inspired her to think of how she could redefine what gardening and locally grown produce looked like in Seattle. She was invited to visit in Grafton, New York, an Afro-Indigenous farm that bridges sustainability, food sovereignty, and anti-racism. 鈥淭hat was a completely life-changing experience,鈥� says Donaldson West. Not only did it feel like an act of personal independence and agency, but also one of engagement in community. 鈥淏eing around Black and Brown people who had the same calling for working in agriculture 鈥� it was beautiful and affirming.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

She has since reinvested her newly acquired knowledge into her home community, recruiting more nonwhite farmers to begin growing their own food with Percussion Farms, named for a Soul Fire activity where farmers drummed, sang, and danced while others tended to the land. Today, Percussion Farms lives up to its namesake, acting as the 鈥渉eartbeat鈥� of local Seattle communities. 

Donaldson West鈥檚 work at Percussion Farms and a nearby rooftop food-bank farm is a testament to how she sees food as more than physical nourishment. It鈥檚 a form of cultural expression and empowerment. By sharing growing knowledge, as well as harvests, she helps others celebrate and practice their cultural heritage. 

She also passes on the traditions of growing food to young, unhoused, and food-insecure individuals via , a 10-week internship program. 鈥淚 can do this as revolution,鈥� says Donaldson West. 鈥淚 can use this land that was never meant for us, and I can grow food, and teach people how to sustain themselves and their own families.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Jonath贸n Savage
Farm Manager, Gather New Haven 

Jonath贸n Savage was introduced to growing at an early age. 鈥淧robably, at the age of 3, I was in the dirt,鈥� Savage recalls. His exposure to cultivation was shaped by a Southern heritage, intertwined with a New England upbringing, and rooted in Connecticut, where Savage was raised. 

Savage鈥檚 family supported him in sourcing his own sustenance, as opposed to relying solely on the grocery store. His grandparents, originally from Georgia and North Carolina, 鈥渨ere phenomenal growers and provided for the whole family with the food that came out of their yards.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Since childhood, Savage has found ways of incorporating his love for growing into every facet of his life. From cultivating and selling collard greens in high school to experimenting with hydroponic vs. organic methods for growing strawberries with his math students at the alternative high school where he used to teach, plant-rearing has served as a vessel of social connection and collective wonderment in his life. 

Today, reciprocity between Savage and his teachers takes the front seat at , his organization created from the merging of New Haven Land Trust and New Haven Farms, which promotes health, equity, and justice for people and the environment. Gather New Haven provides a unique opportunity to connect Savage鈥檚 past and present with his community鈥檚 future. He recalls his time at , where he once gleaned knowledge from elders, now under the purview of his program at Gather and his cousin鈥檚 management: 鈥淪o now the people who supported some of my knowledge in growing 鈥� are now the people that I鈥檓 going back and supporting.鈥� The Hazel Street garden and others like it stand as centers of intergenerational, knowledge-sharing hubs of community connection and restoration. 

Given the land鈥檚 role as an 鈥渙verarching connector,鈥� these green spaces are even helping to connect individuals across generations. Savage hopes that these spaces continue to build a sense of unity and self-reliance in local Connecticut neighborhoods and beyond. 鈥淗opefully, in the future, urban agriculture starts chipping away at commercial agriculture, and we can start bringing some of these resources back into our cities and distributing them within our cities.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Vetiveah Harrison 
Kitchen Incubation Coordinator, CitySeed

Vetiveah Harrison points to her youth in Chicago as the beginning of her farming journey. Harrison, who was homeschooled from fifth through 12th grades, was exposed to many different career paths. She didn鈥檛 gravitate toward typical fast food or retail summer jobs that define many urban youths鈥� adolescent and teen years. Instead, her heart was drawn to the land. 

The skincare company her family ran incorporated herbs, essential oils, and aromatherapy鈥攕o, an urban farming apprenticeship was a natural next step. 鈥淭hat concept, 鈥榰rban farming,鈥� was not even a thing in my mind,鈥� Harrison recalls about that time. 鈥淭his urban farm was a beautiful oasis. It was on three acres of land, which was originally an illegal dump site [in a] very, very disenfranchised neighborhood of Chicago.鈥� Harrison likens the plot of land to a local 鈥淕arden of Eden,鈥� saying that the apprenticeship changed her life鈥檚 trajectory. 鈥淪ign me up. I can do this forever,鈥� she remembers feeling. 

The farm introduced her to the concepts of food justice and food apartheid. Her advancing socioeconomic awareness challenged her to pursue equity through growing as a career. After beginning her journey into urban farming 10 years ago in Chicago, Harrison traveled to New Haven, Connecticut, to study nutrition. This path ultimately led her to CitySeed, an organization dedicated to engaging the community in equitable, local food systems for economic development and sustainability. 

Through the years, she saw food as a link between identity and wellness. 鈥淚t brings that cultural relevance and connection 鈥� from your food traditions to just basic good health.鈥� Economic self-sufficiency in Black neighborhoods has been achieved before, Harrison notes, though it has been repeatedly attacked, such as when a white mob razed Tulsa鈥檚 Greenwood District, known for its 鈥淏lack Wall Street,鈥� in the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre. Still, she sees Black people persisting in sharing their cultural knowledge of growing, using the very practices that fueled the country鈥檚 development to now liberate their communities. 

鈥淸If] we all have this collective mindset that we鈥檙e growing to connect food [to] our cultural heritage and our traditions 鈥� we will be on
top of this world.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

, with who use agrarian reform in Brazil to fight for rural workers鈥� access to land. Pedro dos Santos, a member of the movement, sets his piercing blue eyes on me as he welcomes me to the Roseli Nunes settlement in Barra do Pira铆. 

Dos Santos is one of , won through organized struggle, that comprise the Roseli Nunes. In 2006, Brazil鈥檚 federal government granted 39 families the right to use and live on the land, which encompasses , after 40 years of activism. It鈥檚 just one example of the MST鈥檚 mission to challenge and dismantle the unequal land monopolies that emerged in Brazil as a result of 16th-century colonization and 19th-century industrialization. According to , roughly 1% of landowners in Brazil control nearly 50% of the land in rural areas. 

鈥溾�� explains historian and . 鈥淗owever, this arable land is owned by very few people.鈥� MST members squat on large pieces of privately owned vacant land to get the attention of the federal government, which then assesses the land and decides whether to buy and redistribute it to the movement. If the activists are successful, they then use the land to plant and harvest food that can be sold across Latin America. 

Rural workers officially founded the movement in January 1984, just as Brazil鈥檚 dictatorship was coming to a close, because they wanted to own their land rather than being exploited by the owners of land monopolies. Their demands were based on passed in 1964, at the beginning of the country鈥檚 military dictatorship, to appease the growing peasant movements fighting for agrarian reform. This legislation called on the federal government to better distribute land and to develop agriculture. While agriculture was indeed developed in Brazil over the next 20 years, . 

Thanks to the nascent Landless Workers Movement and the development of a new, democratic constitution, supporters of agrarian reform in Congress attempted to amend the to . Interference from agribusiness ensured no such legal path was established, but some limited advances were approved: Articles 184 and 186 established the principle of 鈥渟ocial function of [rural] properties鈥� proposed by the original legislation. For land to be considered productive, the working conditions must comply with the provisions that regulate labor rights. 

This is how dos Santos came to live in a small house on a 54-acre lot in the Roseli Nunes settlement, where he grows beans, corn, and . Dos Santos, like some of the other families in the settlement, sells his produce in nearby cities and also harvests his crops for self-sustainment. 鈥淚 first joined the movement because I had a dream to have my own piece of land, where I could see my plants grow, and eat the food I harvested,鈥� dos Santos says. 鈥淭o have a piece of land, to me, means independence from the system because I own the means of production, and I don鈥檛 have to work for anybody.鈥�

Nourishment Over Profit

According to a 2022 report from the Ministry of Agriculture, Livestock and Supply, there are currently focused on agrarian reform. Within those numbers, 370,000 are MST-specific families who currently own the land they work (spread over a total of 29,000 square miles), while 150,000 more live in 900 active encampments, waiting for the government to process their paperwork to make the settlements official. Gathering and updating this data is still not streamlined, with government systems and turnaround times compounding the process, making it difficult to find accurate and up-to-date information. Between 2021 and 2022, . The movement has been for the past 10 years. 

The families who reside in the settlement are dedicated to combating monoculture and preserving regrown native vegetation. 鈥淢onoculture is for profit,鈥� dos Santos says, mentioning that are mostly exported to the EU and China to be used as cattle feed. 鈥淲e diversify our production for self-sustainment and as the basis for family agriculture,鈥� he says. After the MST began gaining land in the mid-1990s, its members immediately began producing food. 鈥淣ow that we had land, we started planting so we could eat and show society that we weren鈥檛 like the land monopoly owners who didn鈥檛 use that land for anything,鈥� Suptitz says. Some of the families in the Roseli Nunes settlement came together to found the and purchase a small delivery truck to transport produce to the cities of Barra do Pira铆, Volta Redonda, Resende, and Rio de Janeiro.

In her 22-acre lot, Amanda Aparecida Mateus grows bananas, manioc, okra, tangerines, oranges, limes, beans, and coffee beans鈥攁 far more diverse and ecologically sound harvest than that of the that used to rule the area. For Mateus, it鈥檚 important to emphasize the movement鈥檚 efforts to produce organic, pesticide-free food. 鈥淲e have so many MST settlements that have advanced in their food production development and today focus on the production of healthy food through agro-ecological methodologies,鈥� Mateus says. 鈥淏ut above all, it鈥檚 essential to highlight that our food production has the objective of ending hunger in Brazil. The agrarian reform, the democratization of access to land, is a project to combat hunger.鈥�

MST activists argue that land monopolies are the root cause of inequality in Brazil and that the resulting hunger crisis is . During the COVID-19 pandemic, food insecurity rates , mostly due to poverty, unemployment, and right-wing president s. In 2022, the movement released a statement reading, in part, 鈥淲e know that hunger is a project of the current [extreme right] government and one of the most serious effects of political violence in Brazil, where half of the population doesn鈥檛 have enough food to supply their homes.鈥� Since the pandemic began, the MST to struggling families in Brazil.

The MST is also combating slave labor, which a recent investigation found is heavily practiced s. MST settlements abide by an agrarian reform law, which defines using slave labor as grounds for declaring a piece of land unproductive, allowing the federal government to reappropriate it. In addition to using this legislation to call attention to slavery-like working conditions in land monopolies, the MST grants its members autonomy over their own land and production. By owning the means of production, these rural workers don鈥檛 have to depend on exploitative land monopolies for employment.

Connecting ethical food production to the eradication of hunger has boosted the movement鈥檚 visibility on social media over the past three years. For dos Santos, the movement鈥檚 mission has always been bigger than land distribution. 鈥淧eople ask me, 鈥楤ut why does the movement care about LGBTQ rights and women鈥檚 rights?鈥欌�� he says. 鈥淎nd I say, 鈥業t鈥檚 always been about more than the land; we are all involved in everything.鈥欌��

From the Country to the City 

Back in Rio de Janeiro, in the bohemian neighborhood of Lapa, the two-story Armaz茅m do Campo store sells and delivers seasonal produce that comes directly from the Roseli Nunes settlement. In 2016, MST opened the first Armaz茅m do Campo store in S茫o Paulo, with the intention of bringing its mission from the country to the city. In 鈥攑eople come to listen to live music, enjoy a cold drink, and dance the night away. Taking advantage of this rich cultural scene, Armaz茅m do Campo hosts performances by local bands, film screenings, community meetings, lectures, and cultural celebrations, attracting nearby communities to join in and learn about the benefits of agrarian reform. 

Every Saturday, this flagship MST store鈥攐ne of selling produce that comes directly from the movement鈥攈osts Culinary from the Earth, an event with the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro鈥檚 (UFRJ) gastronomy department. Using only available ingredients produced by MST families, UFRJ culinary students develop a three-course menu for the event; customers can purchase the produce and other agrarian reform products like beans, jams, and juices.

鈥淧eople in the city have lost our connection with the origins of the food we eat,鈥� explains Ivan Bursztyn, project coordinator of Culinary from the Earth and a professor in UFRJ鈥檚 gastronomy department. 鈥淲hen I buy food that is a direct result of agrarian reform, I am supporting a model of rural development that prioritizes people and prioritizes high-quality, healthy produce without pesticides.鈥�

While the weather outside is hot and sticky, the vibe inside Armaz茅m do Campo is lively and light. The staff is well informed about where all the food comes from, and they鈥檙e happy to educate customers who have questions. Activist and university student Tifhanny Flor de Lua dos Santos has worked in the Armaz茅m store for more than a year. She considers it to be more than just a job. 鈥淭his is a space that has a social movement methodology,鈥� she says. 鈥淏eyond serving people, we also want to integrate with the local community, and we run events with that intention. And that also means that we join forces with the people from nearby settlements [outside of the city]. It feels good to be a part of something, of a movement that is so big.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Suptitz, who manages the S茫o Paulo Armaz茅m do Campo in addition to organizing, says the stores are a tool to connect the city to the movement鈥檚 rural settlements, providing a line of communication between urban residents and rural workers. This connection is essential for coalition building and destigmatizing the movement, as well as providing urban residents with more knowledge about where their food comes from. 鈥淭he movement always wanted the support of society, and now the way to do that is through the Armaz茅m stores,鈥� Suptitz says. 鈥淭his is the first time we鈥檝e been able to connect to people in the city so strongly.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

As I ate the first course of fried manioc on a hot Saturday in March, in a room decorated with portraits of Brazilian left-wing leaders and banners reading 鈥淪TRUGGLE鈥� and 鈥淛USTICE,鈥� I vividly recalled shaking Pedro dos Santos鈥� hand when we first met at the Roseli Nunes settlement. Dos Santos and other settlement residents are proud of the food they produce, the houses they build, and the lives they lead. Perhaps the hand I shook was the same hand that harvested the manioc I was eating 65 miles away. Those hands aren鈥檛 exploited by a boss; instead, this manioc is a direct result of workers鈥� struggle for a better world. Yet, the MST鈥檚 unusual and liberatory relationship to work garners backlash. 

For decades, movement members have been stereotyped as lazy or as land thieves, ideas that Flor de Lua dos Santos pushes back on. 鈥淲e propose a solution to a previously slaveholding society where land wasn鈥檛 properly distributed. We propose a profound change in the system.鈥� Last year, for the first time ever, for state and federal positions across the country. Six MST activists were elected, marking a new phase of the movement. In the state of Rio de Janeiro, , more commonly known as Marina of MST, was elected as state representative. 

She has already founded a committee to address hunger in her state. 鈥淥ur movement wants to radicalize democracy by opening new paths for direct participation,鈥� Marina says. 鈥淲e want to participate in the debates about economic and monetary policies, as well as governmental budgets.鈥� As for the movement as a whole, which now has a sympathetic left-wing Workers鈥� Party government on its side, led by President Luiz Lula In谩cio da Silva, Suptitz says squatting will return in full force. 鈥淲e still aren鈥檛 done redistributing the land of the 1%,鈥� he says. 鈥淪o we will continue to fight for that redistribution.鈥�

The phrase 鈥渢hink and grow rich鈥� originated in of the same name. Hill鈥檚 book outlined 13 principles鈥攂ased on, he claimed, the lives of more than 500 men of great means鈥攖o create a 鈥減hilosophy of achievement鈥� that allows people to accrue wealth. Some of those principles include having a defined goal and pouring everything you have into achieving it, while others have a decidedly mystical bent, such as developing 鈥渢he sixth sense鈥� or 鈥渧ibrating on a high frequency鈥� in order to tap into an 鈥渋nfinite intelligence鈥� that guarantees success. These principles follow a familiar pattern, one that suggests if people just try hard enough, they鈥檒l acquire the life of their dreams. 

If we heed Hill鈥檚 philosophy, success is a matter of effort and unwavering self-belief rather than a game of luck. However, his 鈥減hilosophy of achievement鈥� ethos doesn鈥檛 account for . And yet, that hasn鈥檛 stopped Hill鈥檚 idea from fueling a slew of advice books and concepts, including The Human Side of Enterprise (1960), The Effective Executive (1967), The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People (1989), and Secrets of the Millionaire Mind (2005), all of which build on his work. 

One such concept is 鈥済rowth mindset,鈥� a term developed by psychologist in the 1970s to be applied to educational contexts. While the concept isn鈥檛 derived from 鈥渢hink and grow rich,鈥� it is still part of Hill鈥檚 legacy, joining a conveyor belt of fads that blame those who fail under capitalism for their lack of success. 鈥淚ndividuals who believe their talents can be developed (through hard work, good strategies, and input from others) have a growth mindset,鈥� wrote Dweck in . 鈥淭hey tend to achieve more than those with a more fixed mindset (those who believe their talents are innate gifts).鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

On the surface, this premise is not outlandish: Humans learn and grow throughout their lives, and that may require working through discomfort or failures. In the classroom, d to help students cultivate a growth mindset by pushing them to take risks and aspirations that may be beyond their present abilities, but could be achievable by taking chances. But as , the dean鈥檚 distinguished professor of education at San Diego State University, notes, before they can hit 鈥渞each goals,鈥� students need affirmation, validation, and support. However Wood says many students of color never receive encouragement in the classroom: 鈥淚t鈥檚 a common microaggression in education with students of color: educators assume that based upon their race, they are academically inferior or incapable.鈥� When educators don鈥檛 recognize this fundamental barrier for students of color, assuming their capacity is both fixed and below that of white students, it鈥檚 hard to make 鈥渞each goals.鈥�

鈥淕rowth mindset 鈥� creates a myth of meritocracy, that students who work the hardest, put in more hours, are the ones who do the best,鈥� says Wood, putting the burden on students, rather than educators. This individualist approach also leaves out the role of larger community circles, including not just educators, but also family and mentors; these supports are more readily available to white, under the growth mindset model. 

In a study that compared school districts applying the growth mindset approach, 鈥渢he Native kids [from a low-performing district] outdid the Microsoft kids,鈥� , suggesting the concept could help struggling students achieve at a higher level. But the study relied on test scores as a metric for results, hardly the only or best way to find out how children are learning and developing, particularly when it comes to outcomes for Black, Indigenous, Southeast Asian, and Latinx students, who have a fundamentally different classroom experience.

From Classroom to Boardroom

The modern application of the growth mindset to workplaces echoes the same philosophy: If you aren鈥檛 achieving the career success you desire, you simply aren鈥檛 stretching yourself enough. In the best-selling 2017 book , Microsoft CEO Satya Nadella and several co-authors argue that people with a growth mindset make for better leaders, and that Microsoft鈥檚 success under Nadella can be partially attributed to . Similarly, technologist and business analyst Vinita Bansal draws on the idea in Upgrade Your Mindset: How to Overcome Limiting Beliefs and Tap Your Potential (2021), which puts responsibility on workers to change their thinking in order to change the material conditions of their lives. 

Considering that the singular, , this army of self-help books aims to help workers and middle management chase their 鈥渢hink and grow rich鈥� dreams, without acknowledging that some people are born on third base, much closer to success than those who have to start at the beginning. These books also betray a fundamentally narrow and ultimately very dull version of the world, one in which success follows specific tracks, and failure nips at the heels of those who can鈥檛 stay on them. Hyperfocusing on high-status jobs, as these books do, posits white-collar work in fields such as tech, business, and medicine as the ultimate accomplishment; the guy who flips burgers should have worked harder on his growth mindset. 

Many factors that shape the trajectory of a career are beyond a worker鈥檚 control. , , , and may determine whether someone is provided with the tools and support to grow. External, systemic factors, from to , impede many workers鈥� ascent up the corporate ladder. Society celebrates people who develop skills and work through adversity鈥攖he perceived 鈥済rowth mindset鈥濃�攁苍d punishes those who seem trapped鈥攖he perceived 鈥渇ixed mindset.鈥� But it鈥檚 not possible to 鈥済rowth mindset鈥� out of racism. 

鈥淏lack people鈥攁苍d Black women especially鈥攁re shut out of traditional employment, but our culture applauds the hustler who responds to exclusion by striking out on her own,鈥� . 鈥淏lack women platform entrepreneurs have more education than their white male and female counterparts,鈥� McMillan Cottom continued. 鈥淒espite having more formal education, they face more job insecurity than similarly educated peers.鈥� Between 2009 and 2018, Black women founders in tech raised $289 million in capital, with , while the industry as a whole raised $424.7 billion. Though the number of Black female entrepreneurs is rising, a stubborn pay gap still holds them back, and 2020 highlighted that .

Holistic Growth

Growth mindset could be interpreted differently, as a genuinely collaborative process that creates interdependent communities and reshapes how people view life goals. Instead of being defined by career, growth could be viewed through the webs of connections built via mutualism. 鈥淎re you a good steward for the space that you鈥檙e in?鈥� founder of disability rights organization , speaker, and disability rights consultant asks, a reminder that success may be viewed in ways that are unquantifiable. 

Breaking free of capitalist pressures to separate work from life includes , fostering union growth, and building worker power. All of these mutual projects are an important starting point for shifting culture away from a personal-focused model to something larger鈥攖rue growth requires community support, not just work and individual effort. For example, growth mindset could include raising children, volunteering, and seeking out new skills for pleasure or to support the community as a whole. It could also include that allow people to lead fuller lives, and finding validation in activities that aren鈥檛 necessarily sanctioned under capitalism: Spending a day at the beach fosters growth, as does attending a protest.

Careerism is not the only or most important goal in life; people should not be defined by the wage labor they perform, and the things they do shouldn鈥檛 need to have monetary value. Sometimes a painting is just a painting. Even as the pandemic sparked complex conversations about work, it also opened up the possibility for a better understanding of community. Neighbors became allies, and as the world slowly opened up, some formed 鈥渂ubbles鈥� who socialized together, managed children learning remotely together, and sourced toilet paper together. For some, these bubbles went deeper than getting to know the neighbors and reflected interdependent networks that already existed. 

Anne Helen Petersen, a journalist and culture critic, moved to Lummi Island, Washington, during the pandemic to find community. 鈥淲hat brought me here was my best friends were living here,鈥� says Petersen, who decided to put her writing about how into practice. The island is small, with , but has a lively social world. Part of that world includes her friends鈥� two young children, whom Petersen or her partner pick up every day after school and care for over the course of a few hours. 

This 鈥渒id-swapping,鈥� as she calls it, is an important part of her social life, and is part of the web of connections she鈥檚 formed. Some kid-swapping days are easier than others. 鈥淚鈥檓 [sometimes] like 鈥業 can鈥檛 do it, there鈥檚 too much going on鈥︹�� and every single time I鈥檓 like 鈥榯hat was amazing.鈥欌�� Growth through challenge is possible by means other than career striving: The relationship she has with her young charges cultivates a different kind of personal development. 鈥淲hat fills your life? There are so many answers when we鈥檙e not as yoked to making money all the time,鈥� says Petersen. 

Choosing intentional community doesn鈥檛 mean rejecting work or career-building. As memoirist Nicole Chung explains, work and community can integrate: 鈥淚 actually had a debut writers email group. We kept in touch, cheering each other on. It was small, but really vital. I tried to have that same generally open positive spirit in other interactions and relationships with fellow writers, regardless of career stage.鈥� For Chung, a writing community was characterized by mutualism and support. That鈥檚 formalized not just through groups, but also her work at , a mentoring organization for writers of color, as well as holding office hours for writers during her time at , a now-shuttered online magazine. Chung is not focused solely on personal growth and her career, but uplifting others as well.

Rejecting individualism can reframe the idea of a growth mindset as a cultural shift toward a more interdependent and mutually supportive society. That鈥檚 a sentiment Dweck seems to agree with, as she explained in a 2020 : 鈥淚t is not about teaching the concept alone, it is much more about implementing practices that focus on growth and learning.鈥� As Wood has found in his own research, putting up a sign out front or including language about a 鈥済rowth mindset school鈥� in advertising materials for a private or charter school doesn鈥檛 speak to the culture change that needs to happen in each classroom, customized to the students in that classroom. In affirming students who are willing to challenge themselves with difficult tasks such as reaching for advanced math skills, it鈥檚 important to consider who is encouraged to do so, the risks of failing, and what it takes to build a classroom environment where it is safe to take risks and success is defined by more than test scores. 

鈥淭hat鈥檚 basically capitalism in a nutshell, making you feel responsible for the things that you struggle with, all the bad things that happen to you,鈥� Chung says. Rejecting the notion of a simplistic growth mindset and instead embracing and reckoning with the complexity of living in a society provides a much clearer path to building a culture that prizes working together through rich and lean, pandemic and wildfire, protest and celebration. Walking away from dreams of wealth may be the ultimate growth mindset, leaving wildflowers to bloom in the ashes of careerism.

My life was enriched by my niece鈥檚 daily love and perspective. Taking responsibility for her made me feel closer to my family; I鈥檇 been separated from my family by adoption, and had only reconnected with them a decade ago. Still, I often struggled to remember I loved Candi鈥檚 parents and to honor them as whole people instead of stereotyping them as addicts. 

In the United States, family separation is often an occasion for assigning blame to individual people, but larger forces are at work. Systemic misogyny and class oppression, sexual violence, and disease have put my white, working-class family at risk for five generations, forcing us to find ways to keep our children. In April 1941, my then 18-year-old grandmother, pregnant with her third child, married a man who knew he wasn鈥檛 that child鈥檚 father. The marriage allowed her to keep that child; her first two had been relinquished for adoption because she was young, unmarried, poor, and powerless. My mother, 14 when she was raped and became pregnant with me, couldn鈥檛 find a way to keep me. Some adult in her life signed papers letting me go.

Now, nearly two decades after taking Candi in, it鈥檚 clear we all did the best we could, keeping Candi鈥攁苍d many other relatives before me鈥攆rom being displaced. No matter what age a child is, family separation is an adverse childhood experience that can cause , leaving children vulnerable to outcomes ranging from to . 鈥淚t鈥檚 complex trauma because it鈥檚 not a one-time event,鈥� says Lina Vanegas, a social worker who was born in Bogota, Colombia, in 1976 and sold to a white couple in the Midwest. 鈥淚t sets us up for a trauma trajectory 鈥� and it鈥檚 intergenerational.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The first way to stop this trauma is to , which is especially important for Black children in the U.S., who in 2023 comprised . Those prevention techniques include training social workers to . It鈥檚 difficult to determine how often children are removed solely because of impoverishment, but one 2021 study shows that in circumstances of poverty. Families with limited means may lack access, for example, to transportation, making it difficult for them to keep medical appointments. If a child misses a medical appointment in that situation, is parental neglect the cause, or a lack of resources to secure transportation?

Stopping family separation also includes respecting cultural differences, as seen through the , intended to stop the forced assimilation of Indigenous children in the U.S. by placing them with Native families rather than in white adoptive homes. Kinship care promotes the cultural preservation ideal because it minimizes the trauma of removal, increases the likelihood of permanency, and . Comparisons of kinship care and foster care show that children in the former arrangement are . When extended families take the responsibility of caring for children, they can ensure that children stay connected to their families by offering up family stories about themselves, their parents, and their ancestors.

Black families have historically relied on informal kinship care, as Dorothy E. Roberts notes in her 2001 Chicago-Kent Law Review article, 鈥溾�� However, these arrangements have been stigmatized in the U.S. 鈥淭he Black community鈥檚 cultural tradition of sharing parenting responsibilities among kin has been mistaken as parental neglect,鈥� Roberts writes. 鈥淏ecause mothers who depend on kinship care do not fit the middle-class norm of a primary caregiver supported by her husband and paid childcare, they seem to have abrogated their duty toward their children.鈥�

But several recent studies, including Alia鈥檚 2019 study, 鈥渆,鈥� demonstrate that children living with addicted parents, children in kinship care, and children living in abusive family homes all have better outcomes than children separated from their families. The evidence was so overwhelming that it inspired the , signed into law in February 2018, which prioritizes keeping children safely with their families rather than removing them from their homes. By implementing the priorities of the act, the Administration for Children and Families found that the number of children in foster care in the U.S. decreased from an estimated 407,000 in 2020 to 391,000 in 2021. 

For me, care for my niece brought me full circle from being an abandoned child to joining a familial lineage of stepping in to prevent state intervention. However, families are complicated. I don鈥檛 have any 鈥渉appily ever after鈥� endings to share about children in my family who evaded the foster care system and are now CEOs of major corporations. Like every other family on Earth, we are complex and flawed. But thanks to kinship care, we鈥檙e still connected. We鈥檙e still a family.

The fact that the insurrectionists proudly carried a symbol of a white supremacist, separatist nation ostensibly defeated in 1865 is no coincidence, says historian , author of the 2022 book . 鈥淭he Confederates have never stopped fighting the Civil War,鈥� he contends. 

That war was fought over the right of white landowners to subjugate and enslave African Americans鈥攁苍d Phillips believes that battle continues today in another guise. Although the modern manifestations of white supremacy have evolved with the passage of time, the flash point fueling racist violence and oppression remains the same as it did 160 years ago, with people of color demanding their full democratic rights. 

The U.S. is experiencing a crisis of white folks who are fearful of democracy because they鈥檙e fearful of people of color, contends Phillips, who also founded the political media organization . When given a choice between , far too many white people in the U.S. still choose whiteness, adds Phillips. 

Author Nikole Hannah-Jones explored these tensions in her linking slavery to the contemporary struggle over racial justice as the lead feature in The New York Times Magazine鈥檚 seminal publication, . Hannah-Jones鈥� work became one of the in recent years, challenging the notion that the U.S. is a fully representative democracy. 

It鈥檚 true that to elect racially diverse representatives at various levels of political office, bringing the United States closer to a multiracial representative democracy. However, this has among self-proclaimed conservative whites and those aligned with them鈥攁 potentially explosive trend given that many of them are . 

The backlash to a multiracial democracy includes efforts to block , the preservation of , and the racist targeting of politicians of color, including and . 

It also includes attacks on voting rights for people of color, low-income voters, students, and others. 鈥淲e see voter suppression bills, we see the gutting of the Civil Rights Act鈥攖hese things are all implications around trying to limit people鈥檚 ability to participate in their democracy,鈥� explains DaMareo Cooper, co-executive director of the , a group committed to building a multiracial democracy. Democratic institutions in the U.S. were . Anti-racists have had to push these institutions into expanding so that the benefits of full citizenship are available to those other than wealthy, landowning white men. 

A Nation in Racial Flux

Demographic data indicates that white people still comprise a majority鈥攁lbeit rapidly shrinking鈥攐f the U.S. population. The 2020 Census found the percentage of self-identified whites in recorded history, from to 57.3% a decade later. 

While experts have predicted this racial shift for decades, it has occurred 鈥渇aster than demographers were projecting,鈥� says , director of the University of Southern California鈥檚 Equity Research Institute. He says the U.S. is currently on track to become a majority-minority nation by 2042, six years earlier than most estimates.

Pastor explains that the changing hues of the nation鈥檚 racial makeup are being fueled by multiple factors, including fewer white children being born than children of color. This is compounded by the fact that the white population is older, on average, than populations of color, and therefore dying in greater numbers. 

Growing awareness of the complexity of racial identity also plays a factor. 鈥淭here are a lot more white people who are also willing to say that they are mixed-race 鈥� who are willing to embrace both parts of their identity,鈥� Pastor explains. 

Similarly, increasing numbers of Latinos are embracing their nonwhite identities, which Pastor refers to as 鈥渢he browning of 鈥楤rown America.鈥欌�� Just as in the general population, the U.S. Latino population saw a jump in the percentage of those who identified with more than one race, of all Latinos in 2020. 

鈥淭his last decade of xenophobia, of anti-immigrant hysteria, of the othering of immigrant populations and Latinos [has] perhaps basically beaten the whiteness out of a lot of Latinos in terms of the way they identify on the Census,鈥� says Pastor. In 2010, more than half of the Latino population identified as white; 10 years later, only .

Paralleling the nation鈥檚 demographic shift, political representation of people of color is also increasing. According to , the 118th Congress, seated in January 2023, was 鈥渢he most racially and ethnically diverse to date.鈥� However, people of color are still underrepresented in Congress, comprising 25% of that body, compared to 43% of the population. 

Political Power in Diversity 

After killed three children and three adults at a school in March 2023, at the Tennessee State Capitol demanding gun control. Two young, newly elected Black Democratic state lawmakers named , together with a white Democrat named Gloria Johnson, joined the protesters inside the Capitol. In retaliation, Tennessee鈥檚 House Republican supermajority voted to expel Jones and Pearson from the legislative body, while Johnson retained her seat. Cooper and Phillips see the 鈥淭ennessee Three,鈥� as they came to be called, as precisely the kind of coalition that the future multiracial U.S. democracy will demand. 

Nashville, like many U.S. cities, is becoming more racially diverse鈥攊n large part due to . That growth has prompted an uptick in multiracial organizing鈥攚丑颈肠丑 was key to electing 鈥渢he most [Metropolitan] Council in the history of the city of Nashville,鈥� according to Lisa Sherman Luna, executive director of .

Within days of the representatives鈥� expulsion, the Nashville council to his House seat, while the Shelby County Board of Commissioners . 鈥淚t is because of that power-building that we are doing in Black and Brown communities that Justin Jones was unanimously reappointed to serve in his duly elected seat,鈥� explains Luna, citing her state鈥檚 growing racial diversity. 鈥淎nd it is that exact power that we are building that is threatening the GOP supermajority and the white supremacists in our legislature.鈥�

Luna鈥檚 organization has invested time and resources into 鈥渃reating spaces for organizing and power-building that are multicultural and multiracial,鈥� and training immigrants and people of color to run for office. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been incredible to watch the diversity in our movement here in Tennessee and how we have grown that power,鈥� Luna says.

A Numbers Game

People of color have been allying with progressive whites to elect pro-racial justice representatives since at least 1968, when became the first Black woman in Congress. But Phillips notes that for most of the nation鈥檚 history, even when accounting for obstacles to voting, there simply weren鈥檛 enough voters of color to be able to significantly sway elections. 鈥淧olitics in this country has historically been a battle between white people,鈥� he explains. 鈥淚t was conservative whites battling with progressive whites over the whites in the middle.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Phillips began calling attention to the growing political power of people of color in 2016 with his book . Phillips identified Jesse Jackson鈥檚 presidential campaign as a significant turning point in demonstrating the political power of people of color on a national scale.

Starting out in 1983 with his 鈥溾�濃�攁苍 apt term for a multiracial democracy鈥擩ackson went on to win nearly 7 million votes in 1988 while competing for the Democratic Party鈥檚 nomination. , Jackson 鈥渆xplicitly built his campaign鈥攈is Rainbow Coalition concept鈥攐n the various communities of color allied with progressive whites,鈥� showing the power and potential of such an alliance.

This was the same formula that won Obama his party鈥檚 nomination and the presidency in 2008 and 2012. 鈥淥bama would not have won [the presidential] election in 1980鈥攈e would not have beaten [Ronald] Reagan,鈥� contends Phillips. 鈥淥bama could only win in 2008 because the country was more racially diverse.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Cooper concurs that demographic change has wrought positive political change. 鈥淓veryone saw what happened in Georgia,鈥� he says, referring to the , when Rev. Raphael Warnock became the first Black Senator to represent his state, and, together with a white Democrat named Jon Ossoff, beat two white conservative Republican incumbents, flipping control of the U.S. Senate by a razor-thin margin. 鈥淲elcome to the new Georgia,鈥� said Warnock after his victory. 

鈥淲hite supremacy is in the death throes and is willing to go to extremes to try to protect itself,鈥� says Cooper. But he later reassures: 鈥淲e have the numbers to win. 鈥� There鈥檚 literally more of us than them.鈥�

鈥淭hey鈥檙e gonna try to cheat. They鈥檙e gonna try to change laws,鈥� Cooper continues. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e gonna make it harder for people to vote and participate. They鈥檙e gonna try to kick out young, Black, duly elected legislators.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

A white conservative minority acting out of fear hurts all Americans, explains Cooper: 鈥淲hite folks get hurt as well when we allow racist policies to take away our public goods.鈥� He believes that vigilant, persistent pursuit of democratic representation offers people of color, and the nation as a whole, the best chance for a just future. 

Although demographics increasingly support a multiracial democracy and its economic and social benefits, the nation鈥檚 partisan duopoly remains a challenge. Broadly speaking, the Democratic Party has embraced multiculturalism on paper. But Phillips worries about people such as Virginia Rep. Abigail Spanberger, who complained that slogans like 鈥�,鈥� popularized during the 2020 racial justice uprisings, hurt her campaign because they were perceived as being too radical. Phillips doesn鈥檛 buy that: 鈥淪he got 54,000 more votes in 2020 than she got in 2018. So how was she hurt politically?鈥�

Indeed, the historic sparked by the Minneapolis police murder of George Floyd was notable for drawing significant numbers of white Americans to join communities of color in calling for an end to racist policies. According to a analysis in July 2020, 鈥淣early 95 percent of counties that had a protest recently are majority white, and nearly three-quarters of the counties are more than 75 percent white.鈥� Months later, many of those protesting showed up to the polls in November to cast ballots in a way that reflected their positions on racial justice. An election poll analysis claimed that 鈥渘early all Biden voters called racism a serious problem in U.S. society.鈥�

What鈥檚 more, the COVID-19 pandemic starkly highlighted the popularity of a progressive government approach to solving problems. 鈥淚n the context of the pandemic, we rethought core elements of the social contract and found much greater support for those elements than we鈥檝e realized existed in the first place,鈥� says Phillips. 鈥淵es, we can just send checks to almost everybody within the country. We can suspend evictions, we can suspend student debt payments鈥� as part of 鈥渁 social-justice-equality agenda.鈥�

Cooper is optimistic that a multiracial democracy is within reach. 鈥淧eople are starting to understand that actually having a multiracial, multicultural democracy is a way for us to keep all human beings thriving.鈥�

Although Phillips believes a civil war has been simmering along racial lines for centuries, he鈥檚 convinced that today 鈥渢here鈥檚 a meaningful minority of whites who are supportive of a multiracial democracy and justice and equality.鈥� And that means we might finally see an end to this war in our lifetimes.

But where I saw sacrifice, Alicia Kennedy sees abundance. In her debut book, , Kennedy explores the complex 鈥渄iversity of thought in the refusal of meat,鈥� and the forces that shape this choice. 鈥淭he intention of this book is to change how you think of meat,鈥� she writes, 鈥渨hether you eat it or do not.鈥� Kennedy invites us to see the ecological and culinary possibilities of removing meat from the center of our plates: 鈥淚f we do that, what do we find?鈥�

I was struck by Kennedy鈥檚 empathy for omnivores like me. I care about the environment, but meat consumption remains my toughest dilemma and biggest source of shame. What we choose to eat is personal and emotional, which Kennedy understands firsthand. She was a strict vegan for five years, but stopped after her brother died, when she 鈥渞ealized there was no substitute for certain foods and the feelings they invoke,鈥� she explains to me.

When people decide to go vegan or vegetarian, society too often responds by equating any trace of meat consumption with moral failure. In contrast, Kennedy considers the conscious omnivore, who eats a small amount of meat and commits to ethical sourcing, as an ally in the fight to end industrial animal agriculture. Ethical eating isn鈥檛, as Kennedy writes, 鈥渁 set of rules that must be followed to the letter at all times.鈥� Rather, it鈥檚 a practice鈥攐ne that may feel easy one day and difficult the next.

Once I acknowledged that meat will always be a part of my life, it was easy to commit to eating less and being curious about where mine comes from. This cracked open my Massachusetts culinary world, and brought me to pop-up farmers markets outside Boston, ethnic grocery stores in Roxbury, and premium butcher shops in Somerville.

Reading Kennedy鈥檚 book also got me thinking about the people who influenced how I eat. My mother views food as medicine, and instilled in me a love for cold-pressed juices to jump-start my immune system. founded a desk-free school for arts and ecology in New York City, and taught me, as a college student, what it means to eat in a way that supports local ecology. Eating vegan ital stews made by in New Haven, Connecticut, reconnected me with my Jamaican roots as a postgrad learning to cook for myself. My partner, having worked on small farms, introduced me to the magic of well-roasted cauliflower and the perfect summertime heirloom tomato.

Kennedy pays her own homage to the culinary geniuses and eccentric entrepreneurs that made plant-based eating what it is today. She pays particular attention to the under-celebrated contributions made by people of color 鈥渨ho are pushing back on the notions of the pedantic, preachy white vegan that has dominated the mainstream discourse.鈥� Kennedy spotlights , a Black plant-based chef credited with highlighting in the African diaspora, and , who makes the link between racist practices and inequitable food systems. Kennedy emphasizes their intersectional approach to plant-based eating, integrating conversations around identity, tradition, and food justice.

The book also resists by reclaiming plant-based foodways inherent to Latin America, the Caribbean, and throughout Africa. Kennedy dug through archives and spoke with experts to make clear that vegan food was never white to begin with. Take the staples from which most vegans derive their protein: around 965 CE, , and by Chinese Buddhist monks. dates back to a 13th-century Afghan cookbook, and was first mentioned in a Chinese text from 1365.

Perhaps more perplexing than the history of plant-based eating is its future. On this front, Kennedy minces no words. 鈥淚 have been distracted from the food that grows from the ground by products that promise innovation, that continue to hide the planet, to hide the joy of cooking,鈥� she writes.

Food-tech giants like Impossible Foods and Beyond Meat tout meat replacements as the sustainable alternative, but as Kennedy writes, 鈥渢he amount of money poured into the development of these products is akin to the subsidies that make industrial meat so excessively abundant.鈥� Plus, these apparent solutions aim to change the way we eat without addressing the root causes of the problems in our food system: and soil health from monocultures, , and from conventional agriculture.

鈥淚n all of this, the missing piece is a conversation with people who do this work,鈥� Kennedy says. The real question to ask before deploying a purported solution should be: 鈥淗ow can technological know-how and capital be used to make life better for the marginalized folks who farm and do climate work?鈥�

I often take for granted just how prevalent plant-based options are today, and Kennedy鈥檚 work shows that the journey here was a long one. When I was growing up in Atlanta, fast-food veggie burgers were a nonstarter; now Burger King proudly serves a plant-based Impossible Whopper. Still, if the restaurant fails to pay its employees a fair wage or provide breaks, has any progress really been made? We鈥檙e at a critical moment in our planet鈥檚 history, and while conversations about justice, food, and the environment have moved mainstream, the proportion of Americans identifying as vegan or vegetarian has at just 5%.

Still, Kennedy does not despair: 鈥淚 believe in a world where people realize they don鈥檛 need meat at every meal, and it鈥檚 a world where our basic needs are met. It鈥檚 a world where we have space to reimagine what we consider abundance.鈥� How will we know if we鈥檙e on track to make that vision a reality? Here, Kennedy left me yearning for more. But following her advice, I take comfort in savoring the social change embodied by my latest vegan obsession: a local Black-owned bakery called . After delighting in their dairy-free strawberry frosting, I believe anything is possible.

His swift metamorphosis was shocking. On-screen body transformations were less ubiquitous then than they are today, as recruits more and more henched heroes. But at only 17, Lautner was also observably rare in an industry notorious for . Teen shows like The OC, Gossip Girl, The Vampire Diaries, and Teen Wolf often featured actors well into their 20s. These casting practices helped create between real teen bodies and those reflected back to them鈥攁苍d contributed to growing anxieties among teens, including boys, who literally couldn鈥檛 size up to their fictional counterparts. 

A found that between 30% and 40% of men surveyed have anxiety about their weight and up to 85% are dissatisfied with their muscularity, while found pooled correlations between body dissatisfaction and anxiety and depression in men. It鈥檚 difficult to determine whether these climbing figures are symptomatic of heightened anxiety or of waning stigma, but we know boys are continually being .

鈥淏oys and young men have, in recent decades, become exposed to messages that women have been getting for much longer,鈥� says , an attending psychiatrist at NewYork-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center. In 2000, Phillips co-wrote a book called that explored why boys are increasingly devoted to the pursuit of physical perfection. 鈥淭he theory was that men started getting messages, starting in the 鈥�70s, 鈥�80s, certainly in the 鈥�90s, that they had to bulk up and be more muscular,鈥� Phillips says. From the late 1970s into the 鈥�90s, G.I. Joe and other action figures became visibly more macho, male models and actors heaved more muscle, and the swelling success of 鈥攁 touring male-stripper dance troupe in the early 鈥�80s鈥攅videnced a market where men鈥檚 bodies could be prized, adored, and commodified. 

During this time, attitudes toward fitness also evolved. 鈥淚t鈥檚 important to realize that the gym, which in so many Western cultures is a prevalent fixture of people鈥檚 lives, is relatively recent,鈥� says , associate professor of history at The New School and author of the 2022 book . Her book charts how, beginning in the late 1950s, the gym refurbished itself into an institution that was both legitimate and legitimizing. She cites people like gym developer , who rebranded fitness spaces into luxury commodities, fitted with flashy equipment and tropical fish tanks, to signal not only a focus on self-improvement, but affluence too. 

鈥淭here鈥檚 something about the gym that is both about the body that it ultimately gives you鈥攍ooking like you go to the gym, looking like you鈥檙e making good use of your leisure time鈥攂ut then there鈥檚 also the activity of joining,鈥� Petrzela says. In this world, a fit body not only speaks to your strength but also shouts your success. But the hunt for muscular growth is also inexorably tied to the social enforcement of masculinity, a perpetual anxiety to prove oneself, to respond to threat. The inclination is to dominate your body, and in doing so, carry a body perceived to dominate others. 

It鈥檚 this need to dominate that has incidentally fueled America鈥檚 most notable fitness trends. propelled Dwight D. Eisenhower to introduce the Presidential Fitness Test in the 1950s, ostensibly preparing American youth for military service in the aftermath of World War II. The events of 9/11 were followed by . Michelle Obama鈥檚 Let鈥檚 Move! program came two years after the release of a report that found 27% of people between the ages of 17 and 24 were . 鈥淥ur military leaders know that this is not just a diet issue; it鈥檚 not just a health issue,鈥� Obama said in 2012. 鈥溾��&苍产蝉辫;

The pursuit of the physical ideal hasn鈥檛 slowed over the past decade, and Phillips and Petrzela both point to two overlapping phenomena that help explain its continued choke hold. First, there鈥檚 the of and . 鈥淥nce anabolic steroids became more available, a lot of the images boys and young men were seeing weren鈥檛 real. They鈥檙e a product of drugs,鈥� says Phillips. 

This culture of hypermuscularity has also been flamed by social media. 鈥淲hereas before you looked at magazines, or television, or went to the movies, there are now influencers, bodybuilders, and 鈥樷�� who are online 24 hours a day not only showing off their bodies, but also instructing, 鈥楬ey, you can get this by doing my workout, or taking this supplement,鈥欌�� Petrzela says. Shuffling through a sea of shirtless, sculpted bodies in the underwear section of a department store was one thing, but hourly exposure to algorithms primed to prey on your innermost anxieties is another wildfire altogether. 

Among boys and men, psychiatrists have even diagnosed a condition called 鈥渕uscle dysmorphia鈥� or 鈥�,鈥� which Phillips says is 鈥渁ctually a form of body dysmorphic disorder, which a lot of people don鈥檛 realize, defined as a preoccupation with a nonexistent or slight defect in one鈥檚 appearance that causes significant emotional distress or significant interference in daily functioning.鈥� These behaviors might include excessively working out and weight lifting as well as developing abnormal eating habits. 

There鈥檚 also a troubling propensity for steroid use, which carries and increases the risk of . 鈥淚t鈥檚 worrisome because it鈥檚 easy to trivialize, but for some people who have very severe body dysmorphic disorder, the ,鈥� Phillips says. Medication and cognitive behavioral therapy are effective treatments, but cultural issues also necessitate cultural responses. 

In 2017, requiring disclaimers to be added to retouched photographs of models. in 2023 that would require social media influencers to disclose when content or images have been edited, and prohibit them from posting paid content promoting cosmetic surgeries. Both pieces of legislation aim to regulate a lucrative, and largely feminized, image economy. Hollywood has yet to meet a similar reckoning. If anything, it鈥檚 increasingly routine for male actors, including Marvel stars Chris , Chris , Chris , and Dave , to promote their fitness journeys alongside their franchises, a profitable ploy to spotlight the methods that make them appear superhuman.

A renewed focus on young men鈥檚 pain is imminent. 鈥淏oys and men are really struggling now,鈥� said writer Richard Reeves in a March 2023 , pointing to widening gender gaps in school and academic performance, workforce retention, and health outcomes where men are observably floundering. 鈥淧overty, school quality, family instability 鈥� dramatically affects boys more than girls,鈥� said Reeves. He further asserted that in our reluctance to consider men鈥檚 pain, we鈥檝e created a vacuum too easily filled by the contours of retrograde masculinists such as , , and . 

Now in his 30s, Lautner has spoken candidly about his post-Twilight experience. 鈥淲hen I was 16 through 20 years old, starring in this franchise where my character is known for taking his shirt off every other second, no, or going to affect me in the future with body image,鈥� Lautner said on a February 2023 episode of his podcast, . 鈥淏ut now looking back at it, of course it did, and of course it is going to.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Lautner isn鈥檛 the only young man in Hollywood opening up about the emotional and mental weight of chasing physical perfection. 鈥淎ny shoot where you鈥檙e basically 鈥榮exy鈥� in any type of way can really mess with your psyche, because you鈥檙e struggling every day to live up to that guy,鈥� singer-songwriter Shawn Mendes told in 2021. In March 2023, Kit Connor, star of Netflix鈥檚 coming-of-age romance Heartstopper, shared his own body transformation story. , the 19-year-old replied, 鈥淭here was some people on the internet going: 鈥楬e鈥檚 a bit too skinny.鈥欌�� Connor鈥檚 plan included eating more and training harder. 

Immortalized on gym walls worldwide are four words: 鈥渘o pain, no gain,鈥� a rallying cry of persistence, or a warning call for all the emotional sacrifices and mental demands. Perhaps it鈥檚 time to forge new mantras, fresh scripts for masculinity that free us from anxieties that prey on our minds and our bodies. 

Dani McClain

Nicole Froio is a Colombian-Brazilian journalist, researcher, and translator based in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. She writes about liberation, feminism, and the intersection of race and gender, pop culture, work, tech, and digital cultures. Twitter:

Dejan Jotanovic is a freelance writer currently based in London who focuses on the intersections of feminist theory, gender and sexuality, policy, and pop culture. His bylines include The Guardian, HuffPost, Bitch Media, Archer Magazine, Assemble Papers, and more. Twitter:

Art Contributors

Natalie Pryor is 大象传媒 Media鈥檚 art director. She is passionate about equality and racial justice, and has also worked at The Justice Collaborative, The Appeal, and Lambda Legal.

Aly McKnight is a self-taught artist and illustrator whose work features vibrant colors and Indigenous stories. She is an enrolled member of the Shoshone-Bannock Tribes and grew up in a small farming community in northern Nevada. She spends her days painting, designing, growing with her daughter, and collaborating with the Indigenous creative community. Instagram:

Leonardo Carrato is a Brazilian photographer and co-founder of the Coletivo Carranca media collective. His artwork, including Article 6 and The Uprising, often focuses on social justice issues in Rio de Janeiro and Brazilian identity. He teaches, writes, and hosts a series of conversations on Brazilian photography for VII Insider. Instagram:

Nadia Radic is an artist based in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Originally a photographer, she has transitioned to working in digital collage. She has exhibited internationally, including at the Te Papa Museum in New Zealand and with the Collage Collective in Paris. She also dabbles in illustrating for album artwork and book covers. Instagram:

I was an economics major in college. When I was taught that economies had to keep growing or face a spiraling collapse, I had questions. Under capitalism, economic success demands growth in production and consumption, but the laws of nature say that matter can鈥檛 be created or destroyed. This gap in logic nagged at me, but growth鈥檚 allure remained strong. I went on to get my MBA, and my first 鈥渞eal鈥� job with a dot-com startup in the mid 鈥�90s operated under that growth mindset鈥攚e wanted to go public, get acquired, cash out, and get rich. After we鈥檇 secured a round of venture capital, I remember the founders ordering a celebratory cake, with garish icing declaring our mantra, 鈥淕BF.鈥� Get Big Fast.

But the nagging thoughts persisted. Reading Beyond the Limits by Dennis and Donella Meadows and J酶rgen Randers confirmed my suspicion that economic growth only 鈥渨orks鈥� in the short term. Long-term, it鈥檚 simply not sustainable. This was the beginning of my search for economic models that made more sense, including localization, cradle to cradle, steady state, circular economies, biomimicry, and donut economics. Most of these models rely on the idea that healthy economies mimic healthy ecosystems鈥攍ots of diverse players performing only necessary functions, with no single player so big as to dominate the system. Any 鈥渨aste鈥� is actually an important input to another process in the larger system. In theory, these models are elegant and resilient, with each player bolstered by a dense pattern of symbiotic relationships. 

But I confess, the cultural narratives in the United States about the growth imperative run deep. I feel it even in stewarding the organization of 大象传媒 Because our mission is essential and urgent, my instinct tells me we must grow鈥攅xpand our audience, our donors, our staff, expand our impact. But what if we didn鈥檛? What if, instead, we intentionally participated as part of an ecosystem of values-aligned media and movement networks, each individual organization playing a necessary function, working symbiotically with many others to transform our society? What if those connections were much more visible and purposeful? These are the questions we鈥檙e excited to explore as we reconsider what it means to grow鈥攂oth within and beyond 大象传媒 

In community, 
Christine

How did you discover 大象传媒?
While I lived in Oakland, California, I connected with some 大象传媒 Magazine enthusiasts. I was part of a group that helped move the magazine to cover more activism and solutions. This shift energized all of us. So I have a long history of being mentored by 大象传媒, and I can鈥檛 imagine who could make better use of my ongoing support.

How does 大象传媒 support your passions and values?
I鈥檝e had a lifetime of engaging creatively with music and diving deep into the aesthetic of mathematics. But now, my primary passion is for meditation. I also have a great affinity for strong friendships and community, as well as effective communication that allows people to create something beautiful even across major differences. I do act in this world with a more caring and inspiring touch partly inspired by being in the 大象传媒 community. 

My deep commitment to a loving and problem-solving vision of humanity has consistently been supported and deepened by 大象传媒 stories and commitment over the years. 大象传媒 is dedicated to finding solutions, or at least avenues toward solutions, for the very difficult problems of humanity through a process that respectfully hears all voices and avoids polarization. This strengthens my own confidence about our future and provides me knowledge to share. Every now and then, some tough issue will come up, and I can say, 鈥�大象传媒 Magazine had an article about how to deal with this!鈥�

Why is the work of 大象传媒 important for future generations?
Future generations are not likely to be any less partial to hypercompetitiveness, severe inequality, and defensiveness than this one. I believe that 大象传媒 has found the sweet spot of bringing deeply developed 鈥渟piritual鈥� qualities, like unconditional love, right into the movements that are poised to solve 鈥渨icked鈥� human problems. 大象传媒 is willing to fight without withholding love and respect from anyone better than any person or organization I can name. By valuing service to others, we get the highest rewards possible in this moment while building momentum for a better world to come. More than any particular social issue, or quality of journalism or presentation, it is this quality that makes me want to continue supporting 大象传媒

What would you say to a friend who was considering supporting 大象传媒?
I would tell such a person unequivocally that 大象传媒 is the most effective place for them to put their resources to help humanity move forward.

But, there are some surprising bright spots on Main Street. I heard about them at the annual Business Alliance for Local Living Economies (BALLE) conference, where more than 600 high-energy people strategized about the transition to a more localized, Main Street economy. Stacy Mitchell of the Institute for Local Self-Reliance (ILSR) told me of independent retailers that are thriving.

One surprising comeback, Mitchell says, is independent bookstores. Yes, even in the age of e-books and Amazon, independents are growing: For the last four years, their numbers and total sales have grown, despite the recession. In 2009 there were 1,651 independent bookstores in the United States. Today there are more than 1,900.

Bookstores aren鈥檛 the only retail sector where independents are expanding. Local coffee shops have grown faster than Starbucks. Bakers and specialty food stores are thriving. Independent pharmacies and pet, fabric, and stationery stores are growing too.

How do they compete with the giants? One factor is the 鈥渂uy local鈥� ethic so evident at the BALLE conference and promoted by other groups such as the American Independent Business Alliance. ILSR reports that 2012 sales at independent businesses in cities with 鈥渂uy local鈥� campaigns grew 8.6 percent while those that did not have such campaigns grew 3.4 percent.

Independents are also capitalizing on their ability to win loyalty by hosting events, such as author talks at bookstores. And bookstore owners have learned to feature high margin items such as notecards, toys, and chocolate.

The public is realizing that buying from local independent stores supports the community and keeps more dollars circulating locally. I watched my local fabric store鈥檚 sales force march in our town鈥檚 4th of July parade, showing the quilts they donate to injured vets. I was glad I had chosen to purchase my upholstery fabric at that store, even though I was tempted to shop at a big chain that had greater variety on display.

So, besides shopping at their stores, what can we do to help our local retailers? We can’t do much about the big boxes鈥� ability to get major discounts from suppliers and pummel the public with advertising. But we can protest when local governments give tax abatements and free land to the retail giants. Indiana, for example, gave Amazon $11听million to locate five warehouses in the state, according to Fortune magazine.

We can also press our local governments to collect taxes from online retailers. Fortune says that Amazon built its empire on the advantage of not having to collect sales tax in any state but Washington, where it is based. But states are exercising new clout. ILSR reports that new state laws and agreements require Amazon to collect sales tax in 10 states representing more than one-third of the U.S. population. In May, the U.S. Senate passed the Marketplace Fairness Act, requiring online retailers with sales of more than $1 million to collect taxes on all U.S. sales. The House, as of July, had only sent the bill to committee.

So don鈥檛 think Main Street is down for the count. As the 鈥渂uy local鈥� ethic continues to gain momentum, as stores get creative in using their local advantage, and as online sales lose their tax advantage, the lights may again shine bright on Main Street.

Al cabo de dos horas, Roberto Sebasti谩n, su hijo de 9 a帽os, regresaba con 210 pesos en mano. Rivas se alarm贸 al pensar que el ni帽o pudiera haber robado el dinero. Pero Roberto Sebasti谩n le explic贸 que hab铆a tomado la caja para lustrar calzado 鈥攗n regalo de su abuelo鈥� y hab铆a ido de casa en casa ofreciendo a los vecinos sacarle brillo a sus zapatos, a 10 pesos el par.

鈥淰ienen varias vecinas y me dicen: 鈥極ye, qu茅 bien bolea los zapatos, Sebasti谩n鈥欌��, cuenta Rivas antes de quebrarse en llanto. Entonces, 鈥渃omo que me cae un balde de agua fr铆a鈥�, dice. 鈥溌縌u茅 estoy haciendo?鈥�, se pregunt贸 a s铆 misma. 鈥淥 sea, si mi hijo puede, yo tambi茅n puedo鈥�, pens贸.

Roberto Maciel Ram铆rez, su esposo, desapareci贸 sin dejar rastro el 23 de mayo de 2010 en el municipio de Santiago, cerca de Monterrey. Lo 煤nico que Rivas supo fue que un grupo de hombres armados, vestidos como soldados, hab铆an irrumpido en una casa 鈥揺n el campo鈥� donde la madre de Maciel celebraba su cumplea帽os. Los uniformados se hab铆an llevado a Maciel y a tres de sus amigos. Rivas, quien hab铆a planeado llegar m谩s tarde a la celebraci贸n con los ni帽os, se paraliz贸 de terror. La familia de Maciel le dijo a Rivas que esperara a que pidieran un rescate por 茅l. A los cinco d铆as se enter贸 que su suegro ya hab铆a pagado una cifra solicitada, pero Maciel no aparec铆a.

Entonces ella decidi贸 comenzar a buscarlo por su propia cuenta. Sus pesquisas iniciales la llevaron ante el l铆der local de un cartel y al comandante de la polic铆a de la municipalidad. Ambos negaron tener participaci贸n alguna en el secuestro. Para hacer la situaci贸n m谩s dif铆cil, en las siguientes semanas, la familia de su esposo se volvi贸 distante. Rivas estaba devastada.

鈥淒esafortunadamente, en ese momento no me ca铆a el 20鈥�, dice Rivas para explicar lo desorientada que estaba en ese momento. 鈥淓l haberme quedado con tres hijos, sin un trabajo y sin nada; no sab铆a qu茅 hacer鈥�.

Sin embargo, al ver a su hijo lustrando zapatos para poder comprar cuadernos y otros 煤tiles escolares, Rivas se enfoc贸 en generar ingresos para alimentar a sus ni帽os. Les dijo que ella no sab铆a si su padre regresar铆a alg煤n d铆a, y que ten铆an que hacer lo que pudieran para sobrevivir. Ella comenz贸 a vender televisores, videojuegos y distintos electrodom茅sticos. Ella y los peque帽os se movieron a una misma habitaci贸n para ahorrar energ铆a. Los fines de semana, vend铆a ropa de segunda mano en los mercados, con los ni帽os a su lado. As铆 hizo por a帽os sin apoyo alguno, ni del gobierno, ni de familiares. Rivas cuenta que su hermana le dej贸 de hablar por miedo a que raptaran a alguien de la familia de ella.

Rivas experiment贸 de primera mano el estigma y la culpa que com煤nmente recae no solo en la persona desaparecida, sino tambi茅n en los miembros de su familia. En 2010 no se hablaba mucho en p煤blico acerca de las desapariciones forzadas. No hab铆a ni siquiera la suficiente informaci贸n disponible para saber c贸mo proceder en esos casos. No fue hasta el 2017, cuando sus suegros enfermaron y le pidieron ayuda de nuevo para encontrar a Roberto, que Rivas inici贸 una b煤squeda m谩s activa para saber del paradero de su esposo. Se uni贸 a un colectivo de familias y as铆 aprender c贸mo ejercer presi贸n sobre las autoridades para que investigaran, y para entender cu谩les eran los derechos de los ni帽os como v铆ctimas.

En la uni贸n, la fortaleza

Tras la desaparici贸n de un ser querido, ante la inacci贸n de las autoridades y los retrasos en las investigaciones, muchas familias en M茅xico inician b煤squedas con sus propios medios. Recaban informaci贸n, guardan evidencias, hablan con testigos. Realizan inspecciones f铆sicas de sitios pertinentes, incluyendo de fosas clandestinas. Pero las b煤squedas pueden extenderse por a帽os 鈥攕in tener la garant铆a de que obtendr谩n los resultados deseados. 

Casos como el de Rivas son considerados antiguos, de larga data. Son casos complicados porque las autoridades locales fallan en hacer los peritajes criminal铆sticos correspondientes en el momento que desaparecen las personas. Aunque el trabajo de las familias y las organizaciones de derechos humanos durante la 煤ltima d茅cada de las desapariciones masivas en M茅xico, las familias han denunciado repetidamente y de las agencias gubernamentales. Se quejan igualmente del y de , tanto estatales como federales, para buscar a las v铆ctimas. Solo en el estado de Nuevo Le贸n, entre diciembre de 2006 y marzo de 2023. En todo M茅xico, la lista oficial de desaparecidos registra los nombres de casi , seg煤n datos de la Comisi贸n Nacional de B煤squeda del pa铆s. 

El Comit茅 contra la Desaparici贸n Forzada, ente de las Naciones Unidas, le recomend贸 al gobierno de M茅xico adoptar medidas para 鈥渇acilitar la b煤squeda, investigaci贸n, reparaci贸n y memoria relacionados con los casos de larga data鈥� en su . El Comit茅 consider贸 un avance que M茅xico hubiera establecido la Comisi贸n para el acceso a la Verdad, el Esclarecimiento Hist贸rico y el Impulso a la Justicia de las Violaciones Graves a los Derechos Humanos cometidas entre los a帽os 1965-1990, pero se帽al贸 que era lamentable 鈥渜ue no existan otros mecanismos para casos de larga data ocurridos despu茅s de 1990鈥�.

As铆 las cosas, la carga de la investigaci贸n de las desapariciones la han llevado a hombros las familias, especialmente las madres y esposas, quienes sufren , todo mientras luchan con las repercusiones emocionales y econ贸micas de perder a un ser querido en esas circunstancias. Los parientes de los desaparecidos para apoyarse en sus b煤squedas, pero como en toda asociaci贸n, los conflictos internos pueden ser dif铆ciles de superar. As铆 sucedi贸 con Rivas, cuya insatisfacci贸n con el manejo de su agrupaci贸n la empuj贸 a ella y a otras mujeres a crear su propia asociaci贸n en octubre de 2022.

鈥嬧�嬧�淵o lo que quiero es tener noticias de mi esposo y saber la verdad 鈥攕i est谩 vivo, si est谩 muerto, saber qu茅 pas贸. Es lo que yo quiero y ah铆 no iba a obtener nada. Entonces me fui鈥�, explica. Rivas titube贸 antes de formar una asociaci贸n, ya que tendr铆a que inscribirse legalmente para poder recibir fondos, pero cree que hacerlo es una de las 煤nicas maneras de presionar al gobierno. Familiares de los desaparecidos han encontrado fortaleza en la uni贸n. Los colectivos han hecho cabildeo con funcionarios y agencias de gobierno para que se aceleren las investigaciones; para localizar cementerios clandestinos y la exhumaci贸n de cad谩veres; y han seguido creando conciencia sobre la magnitud de las desapariciones. 

Graciela P茅rez ha experimentado personalmente la enormidad del impacto. Cinco de sus familiares desaparecieron una noche de agosto de 2012: su hija de 13 a帽os Milynali Pi帽a P茅rez; su hermano Ignacio P茅rez; y sus sobrinos Aldo de Jes煤s P茅rez, de 20, Alexis Dom铆nguez, de 16 a帽os y Jos茅 Arturo Dom铆nguez, de 20 鈥攅l primero era hijo de Ignacio y los dos 煤ltimos de su hermana. Todos retornaban a casa de un corto viaje a los Estados Unidos, pero nunca llegaron a Tamu铆n, San Luis Potos铆, donde viv铆an. La 煤ltima vez que llamaron a P茅rez, estar铆an a dos horas de distancia, cerca de Ciudad Mante, en el estado de Tamaulipas. 

En un inicio, P茅rez y su familia ten铆an esperanza en las autoridades. Tras reportar la desaparici贸n en la polic铆a, la familia recibi贸 una llamada de alguien exigiendo un rescate. Cuando su hermana Edith P茅rez solicit贸 una prueba de vida, los supuestos secuestradores dieron detalles que no encajaban; las hermanas se dieron cuenta que se trataba de un intento de extorsi贸n. Al noveno d铆a, desesperada por no recibir noticias por parte de las autoridades, P茅rez le rog贸 a su familia que le permitieran salir a buscar a los j贸venes ella misma. A pesar de la preocupaci贸n por el peligro de que se trasladara sola a Tamaulipas, la familia eventualmente estuvo de acuerdo. Entend铆an que P茅rez no ten铆a nada m谩s que perder, si no ten铆a a su 煤nica hija. 

P茅rez pidi贸 una reuni贸n con un fiscal del estado. Ella dice que en ese encuentro, un oficial que supuestamente estaba buscando a su familia le aconsej贸 que mejor le pidiera ayuda a los militares, aduciendo que era una situaci贸n muy peligrosa para que la investigara la polic铆a estatal. 

鈥淪al铆 de ah铆 desecha鈥�, relata P茅rez. 鈥淎h铆 fue cuando me di cuenta que las autoridades no iban a hacer absolutamente nada鈥�.

Por medio de las redes sociales, P茅rez encontr贸 a personas que le dijeron qu茅 rutas tomar para seguir su investigaci贸n. Le compartieron sus propios casos, con la esperanza de que P茅rez pudiera en el proceso encontrar informaci贸n sobre sus seres queridos. En lo que transitaba por caminos desolados, encontr贸 veh铆culos saqueados y los escombros de autos que hab铆an sido incendiados. En las siguientes semanas m谩s familias se unieron a su traves铆a. El grupo comenz贸 a localizar cementerios clandestinos y sitios espeluznantes en los que P茅rez deseaba que no hubieran estado sus parientes. 鈥淣o pod铆a imaginar que mi hija, mis chicos o mi hermanos hubieran permanecido en lugares as铆鈥�.

A Milynali le encantaba ver telenovelas. P茅rez las miraba con ella, a pesar de no disfrutarlas mucho. A la ni帽a le gustaba pintar con acuarelas, por lo que estaba entusiasmada de comenzar a probar con pinturas de aceite justo antes de su desaparici贸n. So帽aba con ser pediatra y tambi茅n con trabajar los fines de semana en el restaurante que ella y su madre deseaban abrir un d铆a. Milynali ser铆a la chef y su mam谩 se encargar铆a de la caja y de los clientes. 

鈥淓lla era muy visionaria, muy independiente. Ella era muy segura de s铆 misma鈥�, dice P茅rez con orgullo. 鈥淓s mi hija鈥�. 

En el transcurso de su b煤squeda, P茅rez entabl贸 conexiones con militares y con autoridades de justicia, por medio de quienes obtuvo informaci贸n extraoficial sobre arrestos y la incautaci贸n de casas que serv铆an de escondite para criminales. Obtuvo coordenadas, localiz贸 sitios de exterminio, recogi贸 evidencia de las posibles desapariciones de otras personas. 
Edith, su hermana, cuyos hijos desaparecieron con Milynali, se hab铆a unido a la b煤squeda. Tres meses despu茅s de que los j贸venes desaparecieran, Edith P茅rez confront贸 p煤blicamente al entonces presidente Felipe Calder贸n durante una visita que hiciera el mandatario a San Luis Potos铆. Se arm贸 de valor para denunciar la negligencia del gobierno con las familias de los desaparecidos. El enfrentamiento hizo que el problema capturara la atenci贸n p煤blica; y fue motivo de .

La atenci贸n de los medios junto con los v铆nculos que formaron los familiares con las autoridades hicieron que eventualmente Graciela P茅rez estableciera una asociaci贸n formal para reforzar la b煤squeda por los miembros de su familia, as铆 como por otros desaparecidos. 鈥溾�� se constituy贸 oficialmente el 24 de mayo de 2017. Hoy en d铆a, m谩s de 300 familias de personas desaparecidas integran la asociaci贸n. Es uno de los colectivos que por m谩s tiempo ha operado en el pa铆s. 

Y aunque P茅rez ha servido a otros de coraz贸n, ha tenido que bregar con el desgaste caracter铆stico de una misi贸n tan grande. 鈥淢e fui dando cuenta que no s贸lo estaba buscando a los m铆os鈥�, dice. 鈥淟o peor que me ha pasado es que llega un momento en el que hasta me olvido de los m铆os. Gestiono varias cosas y me doy cuenta al final que no ped铆 lo mismo para los m铆os鈥�.

Un grano de arena y otro de esperanza

El d茅cimo aniversario de la desaparici贸n de su familia ha sido un momento trascendental y agotador para P茅rez. Ella cuenta que las innumerables expediciones de b煤squeda y las largas horas bajo los penetrantes rayos de sol han resultado en fatiga, alergias y otros padecimientos. 鈥淣o s茅 cu谩nto vaya a durar. No quiero pensar en el futuro. Solamente vivo un d铆a a la vez鈥�, se sincera. 

鈥淎l final de cuentas, nosotros solo estamos dejando un granito de arena鈥�, afirma P茅rez y a帽ade que 鈥渓o mejor que podemos hacer es documentar las mejores pr谩cticas y dej谩rselas鈥� a otros. Aunque aclara que 鈥渘o desear铆a darle nada a nadie, porque nadie quiere estar en esta b煤squeda tan horrible鈥�.

Adem谩s de compartir sus hallazgos, los colectivos tambi茅n tienen como objetivo brindar otro tipo de apoyo, dados los da帽os sicol贸gicos, f铆sicos y econ贸micos que ocasionan estos golpes al n煤cleo familiar, cuyos miembros bregan con el dolor irresuelto de la desaparici贸n y la lucha sin fin que sigue. Rivas ha visto a sus 肠辞尘辫补帽别谤补蝉 sufrir de depresi贸n, padecimientos card铆acos, y c谩ncer. 

鈥淭ambi茅n un colectivo es ver que tu gente est茅 bien, tanto en la moral como en lo econ贸mico鈥�, dice Rivas por su parte. El des谩nimo siempre est谩 cerca porque darle seguimiento a cada caso con las autoridades se dificulta cuando los parientes rara vez reciben nuevas pistas. A煤n as铆, m谩s familias con casos similares se siguen incorporando al grupo.

鈥淪on sentimientos encontrados鈥�, explica Rivas. 鈥淧or una parte, te sientes contenta de poder ayudar y poder aportar un granito de arena a las familias recientes. Y por otra, sientes tristeza porque en tu caso, como no hubo qui茅n te orientara, se perdieron muchas pruebas鈥�.

Rivas contin煤a buscando a su esposo, solo que ahora tambi茅n coordina las b煤squedas de docenas de desaparecidos m谩s en Nuevo Le贸n, a la par de m谩s de 44 familias. El colectivo est谩 en proceso de convertirse en una asociaci贸n civil. Una de las 肠辞尘辫补帽别谤补蝉 de Rivas sugiri贸 que la llamaran 鈥淩enacer鈥�.

鈥淓lla fue la que dijo: Es que a m铆 me gusta el nombre Renacer鈥�, detalla Rivas. Cuando le pregunt贸 las razones, Rivas recuerda que su compa帽era le dijo: 鈥淧ues es que es como que volvemos a nacer despu茅s de todo lo que hemos vivido. Como que est谩bamos muertas y ahorita volvemos a vivir鈥�.

Davis, who spends her days teaching at , is still dressed in the T-shirt and sweatpants that comprise her after-school soccer practice uniform. Before long, cars begin pulling into the lodge鈥檚 parking lot, located in the heart of West Jackson, Mississippi, one of the city鈥檚 . No matter; Davis greets each person with her usual effervescent smile while she loads water into their trunks and back seats. 

Davis, a Grand Officer in Mississippi鈥檚 Maurice F. Lucas Sr. Prince Hall Order of the Eastern Star, had been leading the chapter鈥檚 water distribution efforts for more than a month. She says the Eastern Stars and its male counterpart, the Masons, distributed thousands of cases of water from the Grand Lodge鈥檚 Lynch Street parking lot between July and August 2022. Six months later, the lodge is still housing cases of unused water, just waiting for the next crisis. 鈥淚t will happen again,鈥� Davis says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not a matter of if, but a matter of when.鈥� Davis鈥� assertion is more fact than opinion. 

In February 2021, a winter storm brought below-freezing temperatures and around 2 inches of sleet to Mississippi. As a result, the 鈥攚丑颈肠丑 , O.B. Curtis, 鈥攚as filled with frozen slush. This led the and throughout the city. Residents . 

This trend continued in August 2022 when torrential rains flooded the Pearl River and . These cascading events triggered a crisis that led Jackson residents to be for weeks at a time between July and September 2022. 

Before Jackson鈥檚 water woes became national news, its residents endured and , , and . Jackson Mayor Chokwe Antar Lumumba and Mississippi Gov. Tate Reeves have for the water crisis, but those with knowledge of the city鈥檚 history note that the root cause of this problem is much deeper than electoral politics. 鈥淲hen the water crisis hit, it really became very clear that 鈥� the narrative in some circles that was being told was one of the failures within the city or the failure of city leadership to over time,鈥� says , associate professor of history at Jackson State University. 鈥淎s a historian, that narrative was just wrong.鈥�

To understand Jackson鈥檚 water crisis, Luckett, who has extensively , says it鈥檚 critical to examine the historical relationship between Jackson, , and the broader state鈥檚 conservative power structure. 鈥淚t is a history, I would argue, that is, in fact, rooted in the civil rights movement,鈥� Luckett explains. 鈥淎nd for me, we have to go at least 50 years back to kind of examine the roots of what has been an increasingly hostile relationship.鈥�

He notes three events that brought Jackson to this crossroads: In 1969, the Supreme Court ruled in that 30 of the 33 school districts operating in Mississippi could 鈥渘o longer operate as a unitary school system within which no person is to be effectively excluded from any school because of race or color鈥� after Feb. 1, 1970. As a result, for either the newly opened or the predominantly white suburbs in Clinton, Madison, and Rankin Counties. 

鈥淭he parents of those children in 1970 represented the white power structure in the state,鈥� Luckett says. 鈥淭hey represented the political, economic, social, and religious white leadership in the state of Mississippi. When they withdrew their children from the public schools, they withdrew their support for education at Jackson and desegregation, and they also began immediately withdrawing their support for the city itself.鈥� This withdrawal continued through the 1980s, when the city changed its form of government to . 

Before Henry J. Kirksey and 16 other Black residents of Jackson sued the city to transform its government from a three-member commission to a city council, Jackson鈥檚 growing Black population had no governing representation. After the 1981 ruling, the city council welcomed its , which prompted and increased the antagonistic relationship between the state and the city. Between 1980 and 1990, the white population in Jackson dropped from 52% to 43%, according to the Jackson Free Press. 

That trend continued between 1990 and 2000, when another 35,000 white residents left the city. Coincidentally, in 1997, Jackson also elected its . That decade-long exodus also took much of the city鈥檚 tax base. Now, and . As the city became poorer, it began lacking the financial resources needed to improve the now 100-year-old water system. As the conservative state delegation now pushes to , Mayor Lumumba has faced several obstacles to securing funding. Members of the city鈥檚 legislative delegation attempted to get the city in 2021, but failed when the bill containing the appropriation . 

鈥淲hat you have seen is intentional efforts to prevent the city of Jackson from being able to support its water system,鈥� Luckett says. 鈥淭here has been money appropriated by the federal government in the past to support the city of Jackson鈥檚 water structure [and] water system, money that has been deferred and has been manipulated about the state and never reached the city. There鈥檚 been a complete failure of the state to invest in the capital city, and it鈥檚 to the benefit of the people who have the political power.鈥�

Abandoning Flint

Flint, Michigan, where live below the poverty level, has been for nearly a decade. On the morning of our interview, , operations manager at , a coalition of grassroots organizations fighting to secure clean water and other resources for Flint residents, texts that she is running behind. She later explains that she had to do a plumbing fix before taking what she describes as a chemical shower. 鈥淓very morning, you shower, which turns the chemicals into steam that gives you rashes, burns your eyes, and gives you a bloody nose鈥攐h, and cancer,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 that kind of fight every morning, besides what鈥檚 that smell, which this morning was an interesting mix of fried chicken mixed with chlorine.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Mays has lived in Flint since 2002. There, the water crisis, which captured the attention of the nation nine years ago, remains unresolved. Much like the city of Jackson鈥檚 issues, Flint鈥檚 water crisis can be linked to , racial zoning, segregation, and redlining. At one time, the city boasted in the state, thanks to a booming auto industry. In fact, the Modern Housing Corporation, a subsidiary of General Motors, to accommodate the influx of General Motors workers. However, Black Flint residents were excluded from these housing opportunities: forbade anyone who was not white to occupy the homes in the new Civic Park neighborhood and relegated Black residents to the Floral Park and St. John Street areas. 

The city leveled a portion of the St. John Street neighborhood and nearly all of the Floral Park neighborhood in the 1960s and 鈥�70s to , which led racial minorities to be sequestered in communities with . Then came the financial crisis: The tanked tax revenue. Laid-off workers left the city, . Properties were when homeowners rushed to leave without waiting to sell. This decline affected Flint鈥檚 鈥攑roperty tax, state revenue sharing, and income tax. The city, unable to overcome its $25 million financial burden, was . 

Flint鈥檚 financial situation gave cover for Gov. Rick Snyder to enact , which grants Michigan鈥檚 governor power to appoint emergency managers to run cities, towns, and school districts deemed to be in financial distress. In April 2014, Flint鈥檚 Emergency Director the city鈥檚 main water system from the Detroit Water and Sewerage Department to the Flint River under the guise of saving the city money. Within weeks, foul-smelling brown water began to pour from faucets. 

鈥淚n the summer of 2014, just a couple months after the switch, we started getting rashes,鈥� Mays recalls. 鈥淚 got one, and my kids got them on their backs and shoulders. [At first,] I thought maybe it was dry skin. I even ended up getting this patch on my face. I worked in promotions and marketing, so I used to have to make a joke about 鈥極h, it鈥檚 not leprosy. I promise I just have Flint water.鈥� We鈥檇 all laugh because the excuse was that river water was just harder.鈥� It was much more serious than that. Across the city, residents began reporting rashes, hair loss, muscle and body aches, and other seemingly random symptoms. 

By June 2014, the first case of , a potentially fatal disease contracted by inhaling water droplets contaminated with bacteria, was diagnosed. 鈥淎ll of a sudden in September 2014, my youngest got pneumonia, which was very weird,鈥� Mays says. 鈥淣ow we know that it most likely was Legionnaires鈥� disease, a form of deadly bacterial pneumonia, but nobody was telling doctors to test for it.鈥� Flint switched back to the Detroit water system in October 2015, but the damage was already done. , where plaintiffs argued that Public Act 436 is unconstitutional because it disproportionately targets impoverished Black communities. These legal challenges were largely unsuccessful. 

The true impact of Flint鈥檚 water crisis will likely not be seen for generations. have found that the proportion of children living in Flint with elevated water-lead levels doubled after the city changed its water source. Tens of thousands of residents have also been exposed to and suffered horrific side effects, including , , and lead poisoning. At least a dozen deaths from Legionnaires鈥� disease have now been attributed to the contaminated water. 

Mays was recently treated for cancer. Her doctors found it while treating lung and heart scarring they attributed to COVID-19. 鈥淚 started having swelling and pain. My abdomen was super swollen, and my uterus was going to rupture,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 had endometrial cells, which you could not see on an ultrasound. All said, it was a six-hour surgery, and it was pretty bad. They had to bring in a second surgeon.鈥� She鈥檚 not the only person to be diagnosed with cancer in .

Finding New Ways to Discriminate

When she was a child, , director of , a community-managed utility service that brings clean running water to Navajo Nation homes, often visited her grandparents in Cameron, Arizona, a rural section of the Navajo Nation. Her grandparents didn鈥檛 have running water. Instead, the family of sheepherders hauled water from the desert wells surrounding their home. Those water sources were filled with toxic metals, including , which she believes caused her grandmother鈥檚 cancer and subsequent death. 鈥淲hen I was 14, my grandmother passed away from stomach cancer that was related to uranium,鈥� Robbins says. 鈥淥bviously, knowing that my story was not unique but that that [was happening] across the rez was something that I was not blind to.鈥�

The Navajo Nation once had . However, in a , former Tribal President Jonathan Nez stated that cancer was the leading cause of death for Navajos between the ages of 60 and 79, and the second leading cause of death for Navajos 80 and older. In addition to cancer, lack of clean water has created other significant health problems for those on the reservation. , cancer, and 鈥攁ll linked to uranium鈥攁re plaguing the nation. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not just the lack of running water that鈥檚 concerning,鈥� Robbins says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the water sources that are available that oftentimes don鈥檛 have signage if they鈥檙e contaminated or not.鈥�

The , encompassing , with portions in Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah. . According to the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the U.S. federal government from 1944 to 1986, with the government being the sole purchaser of that uranium until 1966. During that time, were extracted. Once the federal government鈥檚 lease expired, however, , allowing the metals to leach into the soil, the groundwater, and the surface water. 

鈥淥bviously, if you dig it up, it鈥檚 out there, and radon is exposed. That鈥檚 when people can get really sick,鈥� Robbins explains. 鈥淚t鈥檚 across the rez, but there are areas where there鈥檚 more concentration. On the eastern side, there was , which is one of the biggest spills in terms of problems.鈥� On July 16, 1979, the United Nuclear Corporation鈥檚 tailings disposal pond breached its dam at the Church Rock Mine in Church Rock, New Mexico. The breach and 94 million gallons of radioactive water into the Puerco River, which many Navajos use for drinking, irrigation, and livestock. 

Though the spill is considered the in U.S. history, the site a federal disaster area. Not only did that limit the amount of aid given to affected areas, it also prevented the community from learning about the dangers of the spill for days. The incident is reflective of a larger pattern of the government鈥檚 blatant disregard for Indigenous communities. More than 150 years ago, the Navajo and other tribes signed with the federal government that promised funding for housing, infrastructure, and health care in exchange for portions of their land. For decades, that simply hasn鈥檛 happened. 

Much like Flint and Jackson, the Navajo Nation has experienced systemic racism, insufficient funding, and , which resulted in failing infrastructure. Robbins says bureaucratic hurdles and lack of funding have also hampered efforts. While the Navajo Nation is located almost entirely within 鈥攚丑颈肠丑 , including major cities, such as Los Angeles, Denver, San Diego, Salt Lake City, and Albuquerque, New Mexico鈥�
to the main stem of the river. Because of this, many rely on contaminated rivers and wells as their main water sources. 

In the Navajo Nation, in their homes. They are 67 times more likely than other Americans to or a toilet. Without piped water, residents haul water either from regulated watering points miles away or from unregulated water sources, such as wells and springs. Robbins sees a pattern among these water crises. 鈥淚鈥檓 in a different region [than Flint or Jackson], but we still have the same struggle going on,鈥� Robbins says. 鈥淥bviously, it鈥檚 affecting Brown and Black communities way more than other communities, and that鈥檚 a really big problem.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Congress originally passed the in 1974 to guarantee all Americans access to clean, drinkable water. It authorizes the EPA to set national health-based standards for drinking water to protect against both naturally occurring and human-made contaminants. Through the SDWA, the EPA has the ability to take action that will stop 鈥渋mminent and substantial endangerment to human health.鈥� Yet a found that compliance monitoring and punitive sanctions are less likely to occur in facilities located in poor or Black and Brown communities. 

The Natural Resources Defense Council鈥檚 鈥溾�� report also found that communities of color as well as low-income communities have higher rates of drinking water violations than other communities. Additionally, cities with predominantly Black and Brown populations tend to spend more time out of compliance, and even when such problems are identified, they remain uncorrected for a longer period of time. However, grassroots organizers and community members are stepping up to fill the gaps left by state and federal authorities. 

Organizations like Flint Rising and DigDeep collected and donated cases of bottled water. Mays and other volunteers have gone door to door to ensure residents are informed and have access to clean drinking water. The Indigenous-led Navajo Water Project installs cistern-based home water systems in homes without access to running water or sewer lines. These systems provide 1,200 gallons of water to homes, while the Project also develops new local sources from which water is pumped before it鈥檚 treated, stored, and then delivered directly to families. 鈥淲e鈥檝e seen things like hydro panels,鈥� Robbins says. 鈥淭hose are great intentions, but they鈥檙e not the best solution for a desert. You can pull moisture from the air, but if it鈥檚 not there, then what are you pulling?鈥�

Additionally, the Project creates jobs for members of the Navajo Nation. in Kirtland, New Mexico, to begin a plumbing program that trains residents to care for the community system. DigDeep also assists with bill pay and works with property owners to help upgrade existing water systems. 鈥淎 huge part of what we do is making sure that we鈥檙e building relationships with the community,鈥� Robbins says. 鈥淚 think so many people on reservations, or so many Natives, are so weary. We鈥檝e been made so many promises, starting at the treaty level [and leading to] people saying, 鈥榃e鈥檙e gonna come in and do these projects.鈥欌��

, a retired Army Ranger, redesigned an atmospheric water generator (AWG) machine in 2015 to provide safe drinking water to people across the United States. The AWG works by . It cools humid air until the water transforms from a gas to condensation. It then filters the condensation. The final product is clean, drinkable water. Each machine , depending on its size. It can produce water from the atmosphere in regions with humidity as low as 20%. 

West created the to bring sustainable clean water solutions around the world. The nonprofit collects financial donations to help build and supply AWGs to populations affected by water crises. He has used his AWG machine in both Flint and Jackson, and he was also part of relief efforts following Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico, where he supplied . 鈥淗e was helping a lot of people,鈥� Mays says. 鈥淲e have had really awesome people like Moses come and actually listen to people saying what we need, and [then respond by saying,] 鈥榃e have this that can possibly help.鈥欌��

However, the AWG is a short-term solution. Ultimately, fixing the water crises in Flint, Jackson, the Navajo Nation, and other places will require systemic investment at every level. Home filtration systems provide an alternative solution for residents in Flint and Jackson. Still, it is a costly undertaking to ensure each home keeps a working system and replacement filters. In both cities, the permanent solution鈥攄igging up and replacing all the city鈥檚 pipes鈥攚ill take time and money. In much the same way, building a permanent water system on the cavernous Navajo land will require a huge federal expenditure. Another potential solution is to dig and create private water wells. In 2021, the EPA estimated that . The addition of sustainable, eco-friendly water wells could provide clean, drinkable water to urban neighborhoods.

In the meantime, though, Robbins says anyone can help. The work isn鈥檛 easy, but it鈥檚 rewarding. 鈥淲e鈥檙e not like unicorns,鈥� she says. 鈥淭here鈥檚 so many people out there who are serving their communities. And I think that鈥檚 so important, because it鈥檚 like, people are stepping up. It鈥檚 very hard. Not only the politics or the structure of things, but [the work] is difficult. So I always just want to shout out other people who are doing this work.鈥�

Nearly a year after the Jackson water crisis began, Davis is still housing cases of unused water at the lodge. The Order of the Eastern Star accepted donations from several other states for weeks鈥攅ven after water was restored for local residents. The annex where the initial donations were housed sits empty now, but she has a stockpile in an office next door. Other officers have discussed dispensing it, but Davis decided to hold for the next crisis. 鈥淲hen it happens the next time, we will be ready.鈥�&苍产蝉辫; 

Before then, I鈥檇 never considered how much I drink in a given day, or whether I drink more when perspiring in summer than I do when snuggling under covers in winter. But suddenly, I had to measure every ounce going into my body so I wouldn鈥檛 exceed the 68-ounce limit鈥攐nly drinking when I was truly thirsty, rather than absentmindedly sipping water from the glass on my end table while I read or watched television at night. There鈥檚 something about having to pay closer attention to your body鈥檚 needs that makes you appreciate the importance of your body鈥檚 signals. 

Ultimately, that鈥檚 what thirst is: Your body alerting you to a need. If you choose to ignore that alert, there are consequences鈥攄ehydration, disconnection, and disorientation. The global COVID-19 pandemic has served as an alert, a reminder that we need each other, along with organized activism, to overhaul the systems that aren鈥檛 meeting our needs. Whether it鈥檚 halting student loan repayments or putting a moratorium on evictions, we now know that our world can look different, so how can we achieve the equitable world we desire?

Our 鈥淭hirst鈥� issue spotlights that fundamental truth: We all have needs. That鈥檚 a baseline characteristic of being human. And yet, we live in a world that shames people, especially those from marginalized communities, for vocalizing their needs and doing whatever鈥檚 necessary to meet them. We鈥檙e destigmatizing that shame in this issue, whether it鈥檚 going into Jackson, Mississippi; Flint, Michigan; and the Navajo Nation to understand the connected crises that rob these communities of access to fresh water or following families in Mexico whose loved ones have disappeared without a trace or explanation.

We鈥檙e also exploring what a world where our needs are met could look like. In that world, formerly incarcerated people would be treated with care and respect, and given the resources they need to survive. We鈥檇 have a world without police, one that still prioritizes our individual and collective safety. And, beautifully, we鈥檇 have the unfettered time to gather at watering holes of all kinds where we can continue to envision this new world and organize around the issues that matter to us. Can you see this world? I can. And I hope that after you read about this world, you鈥檒l be ready to embrace your own thirst for building one that will serve us all better.

Be well,
Evette Dionne
大象传媒 Executive Editor

I was sure that a coffee shop in my hometown would change my life. I would have more friends, more zines to read, more bands to listen to, and other cool things to get into. The coffee itself was a secondary, even tertiary, aspect of this desire. A coffee shop represented the possibility of being cool and the potential to be part of a community, separate from school pressures and family obligations.

To grow up wanting to be a writer, like I did, often meant having a romantic idea of caf茅 and bar culture. I imagined my adult life taking place in or could be found late into the night. Whenever I鈥檝e traveled, watering holes have been the site of my fantasies: Would this be my coffee shop if I moved to Buenos Aires? Will I run into Pedro Almod贸var at this Madrid sherry bar?

As I grew older and made homes in towns and cities that have thriving caf茅 and bar cultures, their significance to my social life only grew. Spaces to relax, make connections, and have spontaneous interactions are key to survival. They are , and since the last economic recession, their . These days, I live in Old San Juan, a picturesque Spanish colonial district in Puerto Rico. There鈥檚 no shortage of caf茅s near me, and there鈥檚 a bar on nearly every one of its . When I walk into any of them, I expect to see a friendly face. 

It might be the bartender who knows my Friday afternoon drink by heart, or a neighbor to whom I wave every day, though I don鈥檛 yet know their name. Will this be the day we get to know each other? It鈥檚 always possible. I鈥檒l hear the local news there, like who bought which building or who鈥檚 in the hospital; my dog will be given treats and water, whether he鈥檚 offered up his paw or not. The hospitality feels natural, so long as it鈥檚 early enough in the day that the tourists and partiers haven鈥檛 gotten the run of the show. That鈥檚 when it鈥檚 time to head home, or to the wine bar, where the atmosphere is a bit more mellow. Sitting on a stool makes me feel like I鈥檓 part of the neighborhood, like I鈥檓 safe even if I鈥檓 not deeply known. A bar without a friendly face is just a place of transaction, but it always has the potential to be something more: a place for recognition and relaxation, spontaneity and possible connection. That鈥檚 what makes a bar special; that鈥檚 what keeps you coming back.

Today, in Old San Juan鈥攁苍 Old San Juan much changed since its own bohemian heyday鈥擨鈥檓 the flaneur of my childhood dreams: walking, waving, popping in for a drink, getting on my way鈥� Mornings at the caf茅 are spent in a neighbor鈥檚 company; afternoons and evenings bring the friendly faces of local bars. This is the culture of camaraderie I鈥檇 long sought, one that feeds me as a person and a writer. 

Having grown up in the suburbs of Long Island and spent much of my younger years in an increasingly and , I know that this culture has to be cultivated and protected. At a time when communities need them the most, watering holes are threatened by everything from pandemics to high housing costs causing displacement. People tend to meet around beverages鈥攃offee in the afternoon, beer during happy hour鈥攖o release tensions, discuss their lives, and solve problems.

Both Historic and Futuristic

What is it about a cup rather than a plate that allows for such a comfortable place to conspire? The natural time limit imposed by the end of the glass or bottle inspires urgency, but it鈥檚 also easy to have another if the conversation hasn鈥檛 finished. We relax over beverages while on vacation, when we need a place to rest our weary feet and replenish, perhaps asking the bartender for a recommendation for our next meal. A place that is casual, quenches thirst, and meets social needs: This is the watering hole.

In the popular imagination, 鈥渨atering hole鈥� is another name for a bar, yet it has a specific definition as ; it鈥檚 a geological formation, a sunken piece of land that becomes filled with water to sustain the life around it. , and we are sustained by community. That we鈥檝e used this term informally to mean a tavern or bar鈥攕omewhere to drink alcohol鈥攕uggests that these spaces do more for us than act as places to go grab a beer during happy hour. 

These are what philosopher J眉rgen Habermas called the 鈥�,鈥� or places of social life where 鈥渟omething approaching public opinion can be formed鈥� and access is open to all. Under these circumstances, Habermas said, people act neither as business folk or professionals, nor as a voting body, but as something less constricted. The public sphere is akin to what sociologist Ray Oldenburg called a 鈥渢hird place鈥� in his 1989 book, The Great Good Place鈥攕omewhere that isn鈥檛 work or home but is accessible to and necessary for a healthy society.

British pubs have historically been places of political meaning. Dr. Vicki Hsueh, a professor of political science, wrote in the 2016 study 鈥溾�� that 鈥渞einserting emotion and intoxication into the emergence of the public sphere helps to flesh out the history of feeling and social ritual in civic engagement.鈥� Coffee shops serve a similar purpose: Researcher Narciss M. Sohrabi, in a 2015 case study based in Tehran, Iran, , 鈥淲hile these coffee shops do not provide sites where the public tends to organize and form political opinions, young people nevertheless use them for 鈥榚veryday forms of resistance鈥欌�濃�攑laces to mix, mingle, and discuss culturally taboo subjects.

Over time, as , and they are gaining steam in significance throughout the U.S.: I鈥檝e picked up weekly fruit and vegetable boxes for community-supported agriculture at bars, where I鈥檝e then sat at a stool for a pint. Since 2009, Chicago bar the Hideout has hosted an event called 鈥溾�� where pots of soup and loaves of bread can be enjoyed for free or with an optional donation. Playground Coffee in Brooklyn, New York鈥檚 Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood offers , as well as events around literacy and food equity; and were of great use during the COVID-19 pandemic. While in much U.S. media, they are now reopening in and and offering thoughtful .

Broadening the understanding of the watering hole to include all kinds of thirst-quenching drinks is a significant aspect of bridging gaps in which watering holes can serve as public spaces. Beers, spirits, and wines have their place, but there鈥檚 more awareness in this day and age of 鈥攁苍d are bearing out similar data, with hundreds of millions in sales in the U.S. in recent years, and in the category of nonalcoholic spirits and wine. Coffee and tea have their significant cultural spaces, yet later into the evening, options have been lacking for those who prefer not to drink alcohol. Now, are a trend, and high-end cocktail bars and restaurants put mocktails or alcohol-free wines and beers on the menu.

These bars鈥攁苍d the 鈥攐ffer a chance to help redefine watering holes as inclusive spaces for everyday engagement. They鈥檙e already performing that duty. How can they do it better, for more people, amid crises such as a global pandemics? How can cities be built in ways that help these spaces flourish as both businesses and neighborhood hubs?

Public Sphere for Public Health

Walkable, bikeable, and more accessible infrastructure certainly aids in creating this kind of thriving community culture with watering holes as centerpieces. Cities over car traffic see their downtowns filled with more people more of the time, and this leads to the success of small businesses like caf茅s and bars. Adjusting zoning laws to allow for would mean that folks can live, work, shop, and socialize in the same area, without need for a car. This is rare to find in the U.S. outside of major urban areas, yet it is increasingly important; surveys have shown that around on a regular basis, which is considered a . Changes to infrastructure on a large scale that enable folks to have more daily, casual contact would go a long way toward combating loneliness.

A focus on the individual, car-centric transport, and have perhaps served only to make bars and caf茅s seem insignificant on a community scale in the United States鈥攂ut this is an anomaly globally speaking, and crises have served to undermine this uniquely American notion that watering-hole culture is frivolous. Replace 鈥渕eal鈥� with 鈥渄rink鈥� in Michael Symons鈥� 1994 piece on the sociology of the meal and we understand the significance of this urge: 鈥淧ersons who share no particular interests can find themselves sharing a meal鈥攊n this possibility together with the primitiveness and thus pervasiveness of the material interest lies the immense sociological significance of the meal.鈥� This significance cannot be undermined for long: It鈥檚 a human impulse to gather around the necessary acts of eating and drinking. They鈥檙e necessary to happiness, to thriving neighborhoods, and to survival during a crisis. 

In the 25 years since I longed to find my people in coffee shops, I鈥檝e had the chance to make community, become a regular, and imagine new lives for myself. It鈥檚 in the watering hole, the third place, where I鈥檝e been able to do these things鈥攖he din of a caf茅 or bar has been the background noise to so much of my writing, just as I envisioned it as a kid. And when the work is done, there鈥檚 always someone there to talk to. 

Spicy Hibiscus Simple Syrup
Makes about 1 录 cups simple syrup

陆 cup dried hibiscus flowers
1 dried chili of choice
1 cup cane sugar
1 cup water

1. Place all ingredients in a small saucepan over medium heat, swirling with a rubber spatula, and bring to a boil.
2. Lower the heat at the boiling point and let simmer until all the sugar has dissolved. Let simmer a few minutes more to bring out the hibiscus color, taking off the heat when a deep red has emerged.
3. Strain into an airtight container and let cool before covering or using, then store in the refrigerator for up to a month.

Spicy Hibiscus Margarita
Makes 1 margarita

2 ounces tequila or mezcal
1 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice (save rind)
1 ounce spicy hibiscus syrup
Coarse salt for garnish (optional)
Dried hibiscus for garnish (optional)

1. Place all ingredients in a shaker filled with ice.
2. Rub the lemon rind around the rim of a rocks glass and dip the rim into the coarse salt. Fill the glass with ice.
3. Shake the tin until all ingredients have been well incorporated and the tin is icy cold.
4. Using a strainer, pour into the prepared rocks glass and garnish with dried hibiscus.

Nonalcoholic Hibiscus Spritz
Makes 1 spritz

1 ounce lemon juice
1 ounce spicy hibiscus simple syrup
Seltzer
Dried hibiscus for garnish (optional)

1. Place lemon juice and simple syrup in a wine glass and stir.
2. Fill the wine glass with ice, then top with seltzer to the rim.
3. Garnish with dried hibiscus.

鈥淚 never called for help again,鈥� she says. Today Brooks is a police abolitionist who leads the in Oakland, California. 鈥淲hat I know now, after being in this work for almost two decades, [is that] wide swaths of the Black and Brown community don鈥檛 call [911],鈥� she says. 鈥淏ecause we know that when we dial that number, it鈥檚 very rarely help that actually comes. What comes are agents of an institution who are trained to suppress, control, and subjugate.鈥�

Black Americans have long known that interactions with police often do more harm than good. The nation as a whole has repeatedly witnessed video evidence of racialized police brutality, from the 1991 in Southern California to the 2020 murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis and the deadly assault in 2023 of in Memphis, Tennessee.

Police reformists often cast law enforcement as an inherently 鈥済ood鈥� institution that simply needs better , more sophisticated and , and greater to avoid aberrant incidents of violence. But others on the front lines of movements challenging police brutality, such as , have spent decades calling for policing and incarceration to be abolished altogether.

For abolitionists like Brooks, the Nichols killing was evidence that police reforms haven鈥檛 worked. It didn鈥檛 matter that the officers charged with assaulting Nichols were wearing body cameras (which they either removed or didn鈥檛 use), or that all five of those charged are Black. 鈥淎ll cops are blue,鈥� she says, because 鈥渙nce you put on that uniform, that badge, you have made a decision to join an institution [that] from its inception, its job has been to arrest, kidnap, [and] kill Black folks and Indigenous folks and Brown folks.鈥�

Building Up to Abolition 

To most Americans, the word 鈥渁bolition鈥� is most readily associated with the in the United States that . It鈥檚 no coincidence that the movement to end modern-day policing has adopted the same terminology. According to the NAACP, 鈥淭he origins of modern-day policing can be traced back to the 鈥楽lave Patrol.鈥欌�� The police鈥檚 of Black and Brown people confirms these parallels.

Police abolitionism today is centered on demands to 鈥渄efund the police,鈥� an idea sometimes referred to as a 鈥溾�� strategy of transitioning government funding away from policing and toward community resources. Others summarize the notion as 鈥�.鈥� But the basic idea is the same鈥攁 world in which human needs are adequately met is one where police are obsolete. 鈥淲hole, healthy people do not hurt people,鈥� explains Brooks. 鈥淭raumatized, wounded, desperate people do so.鈥�

Abolition, according to Brooks, is 鈥渢aking the money that we鈥檝e been putting into bloated police departments all across this country, redirecting that [into] the things that actually keep people safe, that actually keep violence from happening in the first place.鈥� When people are provided with the foundational elements of safety and happiness鈥攈igh-quality housing, stable employment, education, food, health care, etc.鈥攖here is less need for policing.

Brooks says that ultimately abolition isn鈥檛 only about tearing things down. 鈥淚t鈥檚 about building equitable, just, and humane systems that will work for everyone.鈥�

Still, fully funding people鈥檚 needs may not eradicate all violence. What recourse could there be for a 19-year-old Black woman experiencing abuse from an intimate partner鈥攁s Brooks did鈥攊n a world without police? In January 2020, APTP launched , a project offering police-free options for those seeking help in an emergency. In August of that year, APTP launched . 

Brooks frames these projects as mutual aid. When someone鈥檚 in distress, they can call a nonemergency number to speak with a 鈥渃aring, trained volunteer鈥� in order to create what Brooks calls 鈥渁 participant-determined pathway鈥� to safety. Volunteers can attend virtual community to learn crisis intervention and first aid in emergency situations. She sees such projects as models for a post-police future. 鈥淏adges and guns are not what we need to respond to community crisis,鈥� she emphasizes. 鈥淚t is trained, caring, compassionate community members.鈥�

There鈥檚 an App for That 

Like Brooks, is part of a growing movement of abolitionists who are putting their politics into practice. Ayele, who has worked with the since 2014, is the organizing director of , a Black-led team of software developers based in Oakland that 鈥渂uilds infrastructure for the future of community crisis response.鈥� At its outset, Raheem was a project designed in the vein of a virtual 鈥渃op watch,鈥� Ayele says. 

The project featured a chatbot that could receive and catalog complaints against police, and connect those who filed complaints with community members and services that could provide support, including organizers, lawyers, and therapists. But the team at Raheem soon realized that the platform didn鈥檛 directly reduce police brutality, and that, echoing Brooks鈥� experience, many people in the community were reluctant to resort to police.

鈥淲e know that communities have really been providing care for one another even prior to the existence of police,鈥� says Ayele. Raheem wanted to 鈥渃reate a way for people to access that care without having to rely on police and 鈥� be exposed to police violence.鈥� So the organization pivoted to creating a new digital tool called PATCH, an acronym for 鈥淧eople and Technology for Community Health,鈥� that helps people access care as an alternative to policing.

The app is an electronic dispatch system for 鈥渃ommunity-based crisis response teams,鈥� or CCRTs. Ayele explains these teams can use the app to connect the communities they serve with the care they need. For example, 鈥淧ATCH can be used to coordinate volunteers. It can be used to schedule shifts for crisis response teams. It can also be used to categorize different calls and also texts that 鈥� the organizations that we work with receive,鈥� says Ayele.

She calls PATCH 鈥渢he tech solution to the issue of police violence and community crisis response.鈥� Although the project is still being developed, Ayele says that organizations and small collectives of people wanting to create CCRTs in their neighborhoods, what she calls 鈥渃are pods,鈥� can sign up to receive training and a demonstration of how PATCH can help them coordinate community care.

鈥淎n organization uses PATCH to receive the calls that they get, and then [that organization] 鈥� respond[s] in their local area,鈥� says Ayele. 鈥淪o, it鈥檚 really based on people, and people power, and people getting involved, and also people trusting in themselves and in their own empathy to know that they can provide care to someone in need.鈥� Organizations using PATCH can also connect with a broader national network of mobile crisis teams, health and social service providers, and abolitionist organizers. 

Ayele cites a common critique of community-based crisis response: 鈥淭hese people aren鈥檛 trained. These people aren鈥檛 able to answer a crisis call.鈥� That鈥檚 why PATCH provides trainings that she says are 鈥渋n partnership with local community organizations that help any and everybody learn how to de-escalate a crisis, especially one where someone may be in danger,鈥� she says.

Although Raheem is based in Oakland, the PATCH app is intended for national use. That said, Ayele notes that they 鈥渞eally wanted to create PATCH in a way that only organizations and collectives of people that share our abolitionist do-no-harm values can use it.鈥� The Massachusetts-based (Holistic Emergency Alternative Response Team), a local group led by Black women, has been using PATCH since November 2021. Cambridge HEART鈥檚 core values include 鈥渘o police involvement.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The , which provides nonpolice support for unhoused people in Colorado, has since 2021 as a way to access a nonemergency network of trained volunteers. They plan to launch their rapid-response program that uses the app in July 2023. According to DASHR鈥檚 website, the organization believes in 鈥渢ransforming safety to include meeting basic human needs like housing, hunger, and healthcare to be high priorities in ensuring public safety.鈥�

Abolition Goes Viral

Although practical alternatives to police are already in the works, the goal of achieving actual abolition remains elusive. Reina Sultan, one of the co-creators of the website , says that after George Floyd鈥檚 murder, 鈥渁 lot of people wanted 鈥� a taste of what abolition would look like, and very clear demands that they could make to government officials or when they were in the streets protesting.鈥� Sultan and a group of nine others scrambled to capture abolitionist demands that were already in circulation in a succinct and shareable format.

Within a few days the website #8toAbolition was live, and, in Sultan鈥檚 words, it ended up 鈥済oing viral.鈥� Sultan is careful to note that the is not comprehensive. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not incorporating every single element of what abolition could look like.鈥� Still, first on the list is the most well-known abolitionist demand: Defund the police. There鈥檚 no mystery behind this oft-debated idea, she notes. 鈥淲hat it means is taking money out of the police budget and diverting it to different things.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The rest of the list flows naturally from that first step and articulates a reimagining of safety and freedom from state violence. For example, steps 2, 3, and 5鈥斺�渄emilitarize communities,鈥� 鈥渞emove police from schools,鈥� and 鈥渞epeal laws that criminalize survival鈥濃�攁llude to the overpolicing of neighborhoods, inner-city schools, and unhoused communities that low-income people of color are disproportionately impacted by. Step 4, 鈥渇ree people from prisons and jails,鈥� references the fact that those same communities are subject to . 鈥淲hy should people be punished for their desperation when governments could solve that issue by feeding and housing people?鈥� asks Sultan.

Sultan is quick to clarify that step 6, 鈥渋nvest in community self-governance,鈥� is not the same as 鈥渃ommunity policing,鈥� a reformist response to police violence. 鈥淐ommunity policing is just repackaged policing,鈥� says Sultan. 鈥淐ommunity self-governance is when people who live in the community are the ones making decisions about their own communities.鈥� In addition to efforts like organizing tenants鈥� unions, self-governance can take the form of non-emergency-police projects like Brooks鈥� Mental Health First in Oakland and Sacramento, and the community-based crisis response teams that the PATCH app鈥檚 founders support.

Transitioning away from police requires building up safety and care for all people. 鈥淥f course, people need food, and education, and a lot of other things to survive and thrive,鈥� says Sultan. 鈥淏ut it is extremely difficult to do anything if you do not have safe and secure housing.鈥� That鈥檚 why step 7 of the #8toAbolition plan is to 鈥減rovide safe housing for everyone.鈥�

The eighth and final step toward a world free of police is to 鈥渋nvest in care, not cops.鈥� 鈥淚t kind of brackets the whole thing,鈥� says Sultan. 鈥淪o, if the first part is to defund the police, then this is what we鈥檙e funding. And there are so many things that are underfunded in our communities that people really need.鈥� Those things include noncoercive mental health care, as well as public transportation, community fridges, free education, and more. 鈥淲e are just not funding any of these things because policing and prisons cost so much money,鈥� Sultan explains. 鈥淎nd if we weren鈥檛 putting so much money there, the taxes that we鈥檙e paying could go toward making people safe and secure in a way that鈥檚 actually meaningful.鈥�

Although meeting basic human needs as an antidote to policing sounds reasonable, 鈥渟elling鈥� the idea to the public remains a challenge. Brooks laments how 鈥渕ost of us can鈥檛 even imagine a world without law enforcement鈥� because of what she calls 鈥溾�濃�攖he pervasive media narrative that police are a force for good. Luckily, says Sultan, there鈥檚 a deep well of information about and work toward realizing abolition. 鈥淢ost of that does come from Black women, queer scholars, and people who have spent a lot of time ideating around abolition,鈥� she says. Sultan and the co-creators of #8toAbolition drew ideas from these sources to frame their pathway toward a police-free world.

Still, a website alone is not enough to manifest such a world. 鈥淭he amount of energy and effort it takes for an organizer to have those one-by-one conversations鈥攖hat, along with the creation of models that can be replicated,鈥� is what Brooks says it will take to end policing. But she鈥檚 heartened by the fact that these issues are being discussed more openly now. When it comes to the public embrace of abolition, Brooks says, 鈥淚 think we are seeing a sea change that, if we鈥檙e smart as organizers, we can exploit to create a watershed moment.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

But 鈥渇ar less than even some of the lowest-paid workers in the U.S. labor force,鈥� according to the Economic Policy Institute. And the overwhelming , while more than 40% are undocumented. Another working in crops comes to the U.S. as part of the H-2A Temporary Agricultural Program, a guest worker program overseen by the U.S. Department of Labor that allows American employers to temporarily hire migrant workers to perform agricultural work. Employers can request workers from 86 eligible countries, .

The World Bank has described agricultural development as 鈥�.鈥� that sustainable agricultural operations can help preserve and restore habitats, protect watersheds, and improve soil health and water quality. Experts suggest that expanding urban agriculture can even and .

If agricultural development is, indeed, , then realizing that world requires listening to and caring for the human beings whose labor facilitates that development. It also demands we reckon with how an industry built on exploitation can pave the road to justice. 

While working on a long-term investigation about wage theft and abuse in the H-2A program, I heard stories from farmworkers about their friends, colleagues, and family members who were worked to death or trafficked as part of the H-2A program, or raped in the fields by an employer. Stories about injustices have become normalized in the industry, including those about dangerous housing conditions at labor camps and systemic wage theft. According to the , agriculture is the top low-wage, high-violation industry in the nation. 

Sometimes stories of horrific abuse break through to the public. In 2021, the nation was shocked to learn details of 鈥淥peration Blooming Onion.鈥� Trafficked migrant workers were ensnared in what 鈥渕odern-day slavery鈥� on southern Georgia farms, where victims were forced to dig for onions with their bare hands . As appalling as the details were, crimes of labor trafficking, extreme wage theft, and passport confiscation all frequently occur as part of the agricultural guest worker program. 

Decades of data from government agencies, advocacy organizations, and academic institutions back up these stories from the field. Farmworkers suffer extreme health disparities due to the brutal, repetitive, fast-paced outdoor work they perform in extreme temperatures under harsh conditions that include pesticide exposure and high risk of heatstroke.

When I first started my investigation in fall 2021, well-meaning colleagues offered unsolicited advice about how difficult it would be to find farmworkers willing to go on the record. I was repeatedly told that farmworker communities are notoriously hard to build trust in. 鈥淭hey won鈥檛 speak to media,鈥� one editor warned me. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e afraid of journalists,鈥� a reporter friend said. I came to parrot these lines myself鈥攁苍d admittedly, the first several months of reporting were hard. I had particular trouble finding H-2A workers to speak to, but I soon learned it鈥檚 not because migrant farmworkers are unwilling to make their voices heard. These workers are hard to reach because of the nature of their work. Farmworkers are also fully aware of the consequences of speaking to a reporter鈥攅mployers of H-2A workers can covertly blacklist them from being able to legally work in the U.S. Retaliatory employers have threatened undocumented farmworkers with immigration enforcement for detailing wage theft and other abuses. More often than not, these workers choose to speak out anyway. 

Once I was tapped in, one worker led to another. I tuned in to a chorus of voices and an avalanche of stories. There was no way to ignore farmworkers鈥� decades-long fight to be heard. In recent years alone, they have and changed the face of labor organizing through efforts like the Milk With Dignity Program and the Fair Food Program. In Florida, that companies such as Publix, Wendy鈥檚, and Kroger provide farmworkers with better working conditions and wages. In California, to the state capital to urge the governor to sign a bill that would have made it easier for them to vote in unions. 

The appalling injustices farmworkers experience in the U.S. are not the result of a few bad apples in the agricultural industry. Their mistreatment is cemented into law by way of the Fair Labor Standards Act, which : a livable wage and overtime pay, while failing to mandate access to shade and water. These racist exclusions from basic labor protections have literally cost farmworkers their lives. But when their co-workers die in the fields from thirst and heat exposure, they protest. They strike. Farmworkers fight back. 

The most important public data we have about abuse in the agricultural industry exists because farmworkers risked it all to speak truth to power. The media鈥檚 portrayal of farmworkers as meek, scared, and hiding in the shadows flies in the face of what they have shown us: an unquenchable thirst for justice and a deep, abiding hunger for accountability鈥攖wo things that have been denied to them for far too long. 

Until we truly reckon with the almighty agricultural industry that abuses our farmworkers with impunity, there can be no future where agriculture miraculously saves us from the damage already wrought on our agrifood systems. Without significant steps to ensure dignity and safety for the workers who nourish us鈥攈undreds of thousands of whom come to the U.S. each year as part of a federal program that functions as a form of indentured servitude鈥攚e are doomed to continue perpetuating these cycles of harm. 

A few hours later, her 9-year-old son, Roberto Sebasti谩n, returned with 210 pesos. At first, Rivas was concerned he鈥檇 stolen the money. But Sebasti谩n explained that he had taken the shoeshine box his grandfather had given him, and gone door to door among his neighbors in Ju谩rez, Nuevo Le贸n, offering to shine their shoes for 10 pesos a pair.

鈥淪everal neighbors came and told me: 鈥楬ey, Sebasti谩n shines the shoes very well,鈥欌�� Rivas says in Spanish, before bursting into tears. 鈥淭hen, it hit me like a bucket of cold water. I said, 鈥榃hat am I doing? If my son can [find a way to support the family], I can too.鈥欌��

Rivas鈥� husband, Roberto Maciel Ram铆rez, disappeared without a trace on May 23, 2010, in the municipality of Santiago, near Monterrey. All Rivas knew was that a group of armed men, dressed as soldiers, had broken into a country house where Maciel鈥檚 mother was celebrating her birthday, taking Maciel and three of his friends. Rivas鈥攚ho had planned to arrive later at the celebration with her children鈥攚as transfixed. Maciel鈥檚 family told her to wait for a ransom to be requested. But five days later, Rivas found out that her father-in-law had paid a ransom, yet Maciel had not returned. So she decided to conduct her own search. 

Her initial investigation led her to a local cartel leader and a municipal police commander, but both denied any involvement in the abduction. In the following weeks, her husband鈥檚 family became increasingly distant. Rivas was devastated. 鈥淯nfortunately, I didn鈥檛 understand the situation at the time,鈥� Rivas says. 鈥淗aving been left with three children, without a job and with nothing, I didn鈥檛 know what to do.鈥�

After seeing her son shine shoes to pay for school supplies, Rivas focused on getting money to feed her children. She told them she didn鈥檛 know whether their father would ever return and that they had to do what they could to get by. She sold televisions, video games, and household appliances. Everyone moved into the same room to save on energy costs. On weekends, she sold secondhand clothing in the markets, with her children in tow. For years, she did this with no support from the government or family. Rivas says her sister refused to speak to her for fear of having her own family members disappeared.

Rivas experienced firsthand the stigmatization and blame that are commonly placed on not only the disappeared person, but also on their family members. In 2010, there was little public discussion about disappearances, and even less information available about what to do if someone disappeared. It wasn鈥檛 until 2017, when her in-laws became ill and again asked for her help finding their son, that Rivas began a more active search for her missing husband. She joined a collective of families to learn more about how to pressure authorities to investigate, and to understand the rights of her children as victims.

Strength in Numbers

After the disappearance of a loved one, many families in Mexico launch their own search efforts in the face of authorities鈥� inaction and investigative delays. They seek out information, gather evidence, talk to potential witnesses, and conduct physical searches, including of clandestine burial sites. But once it begins, the search can last for years鈥攁苍d does not guarantee answers.

Cases like Rivas鈥� are considered larga data (long-standing), and are complicated by the fact that local authorities frequently fail to conduct an appropriate or thorough investigation at the time of the disappearance. Although the work of families and human rights organizations over the past decade has of mass disappearances in Mexico, families have repeatedly denounced the slow and government agencies, the overburdening of , and the to support searches for the disappeared. In the state of Nuevo Le贸n alone, have disappeared between December 2006 and March 2023. Across Mexico, nearly  are officially listed as disappeared, according to the National Search Commission.

In its , the United Nations Committee on Enforced Disappearances (CED) recommended the Mexican government adopt measures to 鈥渇acilitate search, investigation, reparation and memory efforts related to long-standing case[s].鈥� The CED noted that Mexico had established the Commission for Access to the Truth, Historical Clarification, and the Promotion of Justice for Serious Human Rights Violations between 1965 and 1990. But the report also noted that it was 鈥渞egrettable that no other mechanisms exist for long-standing cases that occurred after 1990.鈥�

As such, the investigation of disappearances has largely been shouldered by families, particularly mothers and wives, who as they grapple with the emotional and economic repercussions of disappearances. Relatives of the disappeared have to support each other in this search, but internal conflicts can prove challenging. Such is the case with Rivas, who after five years in a collective became dissatisfied with its management, prompting her and other women she met to create their own association in October 2022.

鈥淲hat I want is to have news of my husband and know the truth; if he is alive, if he is dead, [to] know what happened,鈥� says Rivas. 鈥淭hat is what I want and there [at the collective] I was not going to get anything. So I left.鈥� Rivas was hesitant to form an association as it would need to be legally registered in order to receive funds, but she believes doing so is one of the only ways to exert pressure on the government. Families of the missing have found strength in numbers; and government agencies to expedite investigations, spearheaded efforts to locate and exhume mass graves, and continued to raise awareness about the magnitude of disappearances. 

Graciela P茅rez has personal experience with that magnitude. Five of her family members disappeared one night in August 2012. P茅rez鈥檚 13-year-old daughter, Milynali Pi帽a P茅rez; her brother Ignacio P茅rez; and her three nephews鈥擜lexis Dom铆nguez (age 16), Jos茅 Arturo Dom铆nguez, and Aldo de Jes煤s P茅rez (both age 20)鈥攄idn鈥檛 return home to Tamu铆n, San Luis Potos铆, after a short trip to the United States. The last time they called P茅rez, they were two hours away, near Ciudad Mante, Tamaulipas.

At first, P茅rez and her family had hope in the authorities. But after filing a missing-persons report with state police, P茅rez鈥檚 family received a call demanding a ransom. When her sister Edith P茅rez asked for proof of life, the callers gave details that didn鈥檛 match their family members鈥�, and the sisters realized it was an extortion attempt. On the ninth day, desperate for news from the authorities, P茅rez begged her family to let her go out and search. Despite concerns about the danger of P茅rez traveling alone to Tamaulipas, her family eventually agreed, recognizing that P茅rez had nothing left to lose after her only daughter disappeared.

P茅rez began by demanding a meeting with the state prosecutor in Tamaulipas. At the meeting, she says an officer who was supposed to be searching for her family advised her to seek help from the military instead, claiming the situation was too dangerous for the state police to investigate.

鈥淚 left there in pieces,鈥� P茅rez says in Spanish. 鈥淎nd that鈥檚 when I realized that the authorities were not going to do anything.鈥� Through social media, P茅rez found people who gave her information on which routes to take during her search, and even shared their own cases in hopes that P茅rez might find information about their loved ones. As she traveled desolate roads, she found looted cars and the charred remains of vehicles set ablaze. In the following weeks, more families joined her journey; the group began to locate clandestine graves and places P茅rez hoped her family had not been. 鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 think that my daughter, my boys, my brother had to be in a place like that, right?鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Milynali loved to watch telenovelas, which P茅rez would watch with her, even if she didn鈥檛 enjoy them. An avid watercolor painter, Milynali was excited to start exploring oil painting just before she disappeared. She dreamed of becoming a pediatrician, and working on the weekends in the restaurant she and her mother hoped to open. Milynali would be the chef; P茅rez would handle the customers and the register. 

鈥淪he was very visionary, very independent. She was very self-assured,鈥� P茅rez says proudly. 鈥淪he is my daughter.鈥� As her search continued, P茅rez built connections with military and law enforcement officials, gaining off-the-record information about arrests and seized safe houses. She managed to obtain coordinates, locate extermination sites, and gather evidence of other possible cases of disappearances. Her sister Edith, whose sons disappeared with P茅rez鈥檚 daughter, also joined the search. Three months after her sons disappeared, Edith P茅rez publicly confronted then-president Felipe Calder贸n during a visit to San Luis Potos铆, denouncing the government鈥檚 neglect of families of the disappeared. Her confrontation drew attention to the issue, and .

The media attention, combined with the connections to family members and law enforcement officials, eventually prompted Graciela P茅rez to create a formal association to bolster search efforts for her family members and other disappeared people. (the Milynali Network) became a formal association on May 24, 2017, and currently comprises more than 300 families of the disappeared; it鈥檚 one of the longest-running collectives in the country.

鈥淚 realized that I wasn鈥檛 just looking for mine,鈥� says P茅rez. 鈥淭he worst thing that has happened to me is that there comes a time when I forget about my loved ones. I manage things [for other families], and in the end I realize that I didn鈥檛 ask anything for mine.鈥�

A Grain of Sand, a Grain of Hope

The 10-year anniversary of her family鈥檚 disappearance has been a defining鈥攁苍d draining鈥攎oment for P茅rez. The countless field searches and long hours spent under the burning sun have resulted in fatigue, new allergies, and other ailments, she says. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know how much longer this will last,鈥� says P茅rez. 鈥淚鈥檓 trying not to think about the future. I just live one day at a time.鈥�

鈥淚n the end, we are just leaving a grain of sand. The best we can do is document the best practices and pass them on,鈥� adds P茅rez. 鈥淚 wouldn鈥檛 wish to pass anything on to anyone because no one wants to be in this horrible search.鈥�

In addition to sharing best practices, family collectives also aim to provide support for the psychological, physical, and financial toll wrought by the ongoing struggle and unresolved grief of those with disappeared loved ones. Rivas has seen her 肠辞尘辫补帽别谤补蝉 suffer from depression, heart issues, and cancer. 鈥淎 collective is also to see that your people are OK, in morale and economically,鈥� says Rivas. Keeping track of each collective member鈥檚 case with the authorities can be difficult when the cases are long-standing and families are rarely offered new leads. And yet, new families鈥攐ften with similar cases鈥攃ontinue to join.

鈥淚t brings a range of emotions,鈥� explains Rivas. 鈥淥n one hand, you feel happy to be able to help and provide support to struggling families. On the other hand, you feel sad because in your case there was no one to guide you, and many opportunities were lost.鈥�

Rivas continues to search for her husband, and now also coordinates searches for dozens of disappeared people in Nuevo Le贸n, together with more than 44 families. The collective is in the process of forming itself as a civil association. One of Rivas鈥� 肠辞尘辫补帽别谤补蝉 suggested that they be named Renacer (Rebirth).

鈥淥ne of them said, 鈥業 like Renacer,鈥欌�� says Rivas. 鈥淚 asked, 鈥榃hy?鈥� She said, 鈥楤ecause it鈥檚 like we are reborn after all we have experienced. It was as if we were dead, and now we are alive again.鈥欌��&苍产蝉辫;

being drawn to the sky by a
seemingly invisible force,

reconciling with clouds and
collecting stardust in the astros,

eternally magnetized to the moon,

transforming into a raindrop and
answering the call

to return to Earth

taking shape as a glacier,

becoming a fast-running river,

slipping around ancient rocks

reflecting the trees and skies above,

shaping the landscape and tributaries,

forming capillaries and wetlands

arriving to the sea, embodying the ocean,

holding space for all life forms to thrive.

Water is constantly in motion, changing form from liquid to solid to gas and back again. Its power to transform enables water to erode rocks and mountains, corrode metal, and extract nutrients from plants and bones. 

The water present with us on Earth has been here since the beginning of time. People have long journeyed to distant hot springs, mineral pools, misty waterfalls, and formidable geysers for the promise of water鈥檚 endowed healing properties. In almost every religion, water has the ability to absorb prayers and bestow blessings.

鈥淲ater holds memories since time began and has a living spirit just like we do,鈥� says Chenoa Egawa, a member of the Lummi tribe and a ceremonial leader, storyteller, artist, and environmental activist who is dedicated to bringing healing to our Mother Earth. 

Our bodies鈥� innate wisdom understands how essential water is, as it makes up more than half of our body weight. 鈥淲ater has the ability to cleanse itself, and because we are largely made of water, we are a part of that cleansing cycle as well,鈥� Egawa says. 鈥淭hat is why it is so important to offer gratitude and prayer to water as we use it throughout our day.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Internally, water delivers essential nutrients, moves our digested food, and regulates our temperature. Being adequately hydrated can increase our energy levels and diminish our aches and pains. Our Ancestors worked diligently to master oxidation and browning reactions for culinary creations, passed down through generations in recipes. 

We are absolutely a part of the cycle of water. All of life is.

Indigenous cultures circumnavigating the planet, from Hawai鈥榠 to the Azores, consider bodies of water to be a global unifier. In the Pacific Northwest, our waterways are the ancient highways that connect our villages and families. But water need not be abundant to be appreciated as the gift it is. 

鈥淥ne of the first things we teach our children is how to read clouds, because we know that is the language of water and how it connects to everything around us,鈥� says A-dae Romero-Briones, who is Cochiti and Kiowa. 鈥淔rom our beginning as a people, our homelands in the Southwest constantly teach us how to respect, revere, and honor water,鈥� says Romero-Briones, who holds a law degree in Indigenous food and agriculture and has in-depth knowledge of Native food systems and economies. 鈥淲e choose to live in a place where water is scarce because that is how we understand its preciousness and never take it for granted. We have built an entire society and culture to ensure we never forget that.鈥�

But, like so many of our essential nutrients, water has become a commodity. Access to clean and safe water is becoming more challenging worldwide. While we need to consume this sacred water to exist, we must also work hard to repair our relationship with this almighty medicine. Many are standing up to protect water. Let鈥檚 also commit to connect more deeply with water. 

Recipes for Water Meditations

Research where your water comes from and how it gets to your glass. Who, if anyone, is working to protect its tributary, and how can you help?

Once a day, pour yourself a cup of water and drink it with intention, considering how it makes you feel and giving gratitude for its presence in your life.

Find a spot to sit outside near a body of water and visit it often, paying close attention to how it changes shape over time and with the seasons.

Growing up impoverished, I was always thirsty for more鈥攎ore food, more clothes, more opportunities. But when I was incarcerated, that thirst took on a whole new meaning. I craved a second chance, the opportunity to prove that I鈥檓 more than my mistakes. But the journey of returning to society can be challenging. 

After I was released from prison, I quickly realized how immense the challenges of re-entry are. , , and reestablishing relationships with friends and family were all daunting tasks. I applied for countless jobs, only to be because of my criminal record. I knew I was capable of doing the work, but employers considered me to be a liability. Being constantly rejected was soul-crushing, and I began to question whether I would ever be able to forge a life after incarceration.

I carried the weight of my mistakes with me everywhere. The guilt I felt for my past actions was almost suffocating at times. I wanted to be seen as a new person, someone who had learned from their mistakes, but no one was willing to give me that chance. The emotional toll of re-entry鈥攑roving yourself 鈥済ood enough鈥� to rejoin larger society鈥攃an become overwhelming. 鈥淔ormerly incarcerated individuals often face stigmatization and discrimination, which can lead to feelings of shame and inadequacy,鈥� says Emily Shelton, a prisoner re-entry expert and the co-founder and director of a nonprofit called . 鈥淭hese feelings can be compounded by the lack of support and resources available to returning citizens, making it difficult to navigate the challenges of re-entry. This is where and why we see a lot of recidivism as a result.鈥�

The United States has one of the highest recidivism rates globally. An estimated are re-imprisoned within just 12 months, and a study of prisons in 24 states suggests that as many as return to prison in 10 years. According to a by the , poverty is the single greatest predictor of recidivism. In fact, significantly multiplies the chances of previously incarcerated people returning to jails and prisons. Other studies have shown that stable , , and access to are effective means of curtailing and addressing criminogenic factors such as poverty and addiction. 

Ignite Justice, Shelton鈥檚 nonprofit, aims to address this problem. The organization advocates for criminal justice reforms and rehabilitative prison conditions, and also works with incarcerated people both before and after release to facilitate a smooth reintegration. 鈥淭hese folks often learn that it is OK to feel ashamed and vulnerable, or to suffer from past traumas, and that those feelings are a natural part of the healing process and the restoration process,鈥� Shelton says. 鈥淵et it鈥檚 important that they don鈥檛 embody or long-term identify with that shame or trauma. By confronting past mistakes and taking responsibility for them, these people are able to move forward with a renewed sense of purpose and self-worth.鈥�

Despite the challenges of re-entry, I refused to give up. I knew I was capable of more than what society believed of me. I began to seek out resources that could help me gain the skills and support I needed. I participated in a job training program that not only provided me with practical skills but also gave me a sense of belonging. There is real value in being a part of a community that sees the potential of formerly incarcerated people and sets them up for success. 

Nicholas, who is withholding his last name for privacy reasons, found his family鈥檚 emotional support to be especially valuable after his release. 鈥淗aving my family there in spite of my past mistakes remains a huge deal for me,鈥� he says. 鈥淭o have somewhere I feel safe and supported has made the transition back into society much easier than I think it otherwise might have been.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

I also learned the importance of seeking counseling and therapy. By addressing these arduous psycho-emotional hurdles that are present in societal reintegration, I was able to heal and move forward with a renewed sense of purpose. Nicholas, too, says therapy has helped him 鈥渕ove through my trauma from prison鈥� and become optimistic about the future. 鈥淸Therapy] has helped me feel like I can breathe again,鈥� he says. 鈥淔or someone starting life over, I just cannot stress enough how important those things are.鈥�

My personal journey has taught me that it鈥檚 possible to rebuild one鈥檚 life after incarceration and to find purpose and fulfillment. But I still worry about the future鈥攏ot just for myself, but for every person starting over. As a society, we need to work toward creating a world where all individuals have the opportunity to thrive and succeed, regardless of their past mistakes. That includes recognizing and dismantling our collective bias toward formerly incarcerated people in our rhetoric, our hiring practices, and our behaviors. Rather than trapping people in the memory of their worst moment, we should provide tangible support, resources, and opportunities for growth. When we create a society that embraces those who have been incarcerated鈥攔estoring and rehabilitating them and returning them to their communities鈥攖hen formerly incarcerated people will finally have the second chance that they deserve. 

Our unequal world is divided not just by wealth or quality of life, but also by access to basic necessities like water.

A Thirsty World 

Geography and climate play a huge role in water availability. Still, just six countries consume 49% of all water usage globally. 

The Global Water Footprint

Around the world, agriculture consumes 70% of all freshwater. Products can be ranked by their 鈥渨ater footprint,鈥� which measures the number of liters of water used to produce one kilogram. The thirstiest products include cocoa and its derivatives, coffee, leather, and beef.

To me, Disney and durian are one in the same: nauseatingly sweet. The first essay in Manuel Betancourt鈥檚 , a collection of essays about the author鈥檚 coming out and of age, is similarly saccharine. Betancourt is not only partial to Disney but grants it unbridled weight in his adult life, arguing that he has 鈥渟muggled鈥� some sort of queer ontology out of its 鈥渙ppressively heterosexual fairy tales.鈥�

Unremarkably aroused by Disney鈥檚 gambit of meatheads, Betancourt foregrounds his nascent sexual proclivities to stake an ambitious claim: 鈥淎s Disney gave its female heroines agency in their desire, it also allowed audiences to objectify its male characters.鈥� Apparently, the pressures of heterosexual love are incidental to personal freedom, and patent displays of male musculature are a radical inversion of the male gaze. Betancourt is all too aware that neither of these statements is true鈥攈e explores dress codes and body policing in the next essay. His myopia is selective insofar as it serves his argument.

Betancourt portends my skepticism until he doesn鈥檛: 鈥淸I]t鈥檚 unclear if these childhood moments 鈥� predicted the gay man I would become, or if I have simply warped them to do so in my mind. The result, I guess, is no different either way.鈥� Um鈥� isn鈥檛 it? Betancourt subbing personal experience for analysis echoes Kay Gabriel鈥檚 argument in a 2022 article for : Queer memoirists who satiate nonqueer readers with snapshots of personal hardship rather than illuminate shared social forms鈥攍ike, say, joy鈥攅ffectively neuter themselves. Betancourt鈥檚 Disney nostalgia, precisely: Furiously hard in the tenebrous recesses of the theater, his boner works itself out, as Gabriel puts it, 鈥渋n powerful but highly limited ways on some strange people over there.鈥�

Granted, Betancourt鈥檚 childhood, piddled away in front of the TV, seems lonely. And horny鈥攕o much so that, by his own admission, it hampers his analytical faculties: 鈥淚 can鈥檛 deny that sometimes my shallowness (or my horniness, more like) gets the best of me.鈥� For example, the 鈥渉airy,鈥� 鈥渞ippling,鈥� and 鈥渓ovingly defined鈥� pecs of Hercules; the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air; Buffy鈥檚 Xander; and, in the real world, Ricky Martin inundate the pages with a dull libidinal yearning. Saved by the Bell鈥檚 A.C. Slater鈥攁ll-star wrestler and general harbinger of Jersey Shore鈥檚 later grip on millennial sexuality鈥攊s, in particular, 鈥渁 revelation.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Reflections on Slater metastasize into lascivious musings on how wrestling garb and related imagery can 鈥渞ewire the markers of masculine ideals as inherently homoerotic.鈥� These ideas are both fantastical and heavy-handed; allusion is not our Slater-satyr鈥檚 forte. 鈥淸T]ight asses aren鈥檛 mere by-products of arduous training but open invitations (in ways more literal than you can imagine).鈥� Surely any self-described gay man and the most cursorily adventurous heterosexual could鈥檝e gleaned the anal reference without the parenthetical appendage; if not, why do they need to? Clamoring for readership, Betancourt casts a wide net, letting slip lithe catches for the clumsier philistines mucking about.

Stylistic issues aside, Betancourt acknowledges that desire and self-expression are 鈥渉ard to disentangle,鈥� yet he doesn鈥檛 recognize that this very entanglement may be confining his own view. As a gay man, I see little of my own urges in Betancourt鈥檚. 鈥淭o explicitly deny the sexual pull such images [of shirtless amateur wrestlers] can have 鈥� is to feed into a toxicity that refuses to let men be unwittingly desired (by other men).鈥� This leaves me sexually and theoretically marooned. I do deny it (wrestling doesn鈥檛 turn me on!) and regardless: How would my lust anchor my masculinity? Despite acknowledging that 鈥渨hat men want and what men look like aren鈥檛 questions to be asked in a vacuum,鈥� Betancourt doesn鈥檛 make context central to his analysis. I am all for finding teleological value in desire, but Betancourt is thinking with the wrong head.

Betancourt does, at times, escape his cognitive cul-de-sac. In 鈥淗ombres,鈥� Betancourt explores the titular Colombian telenovela as a 鈥済limpse into a possible future and a rare window into an alien present.鈥� Hombres鈥� seemingly 鈥減rogressive鈥� male characters were facsimiles for the professional class of men Betancourt鈥檚 classmates would become, boys whose masculinity relied on his torment. Marshaled against the show鈥檚 larger, systemic pitfalls鈥攕uch as its infinite forgiveness of male fragility and total inability to pass the Bechdel test鈥攚e learn that Hombres was essentialist down to its title, its denotations of masculinity contingent on who was and wasn鈥檛 meant to watch. Here, Betancourt鈥檚 personal experience is couched in a clear exploration of Colombian masculinity, augmenting close analysis of Hombres and its social mores rather than the other way around.

Betancourt鈥檚 final essay, 鈥淎 Cock in a Frock,鈥� proves the limitations of those preceding if only by showing that, done right, personal experience can pose some epistemic value. Taking a RuPaul tagline (鈥渨e鈥檙e all born naked and the rest is drag鈥�) as an ontological launchpad, Betancourt weaves between cross-dressers, women in pantsuits, straight men, and queers to make a simple but convincing point: Sex and gender are irreducible from desire. It鈥檚 here where his writing is at its best. Building solidarity across disparate experiences rather than leveraging them for intellectual cachet, Betancourt鈥檚 analytical power rests precisely in the space between what he and other queer men do and don鈥檛 share.

Promulgating one鈥檚 trauma is increasingly necessary to 鈥渓egitimate鈥� subjectivity, conveniently obfuscating the various shapes power can take. This compromise reduces bodies into messages, or masculinity into culture, rather than seeing either as a multi-operable tool of violence, oppression, or liberation. Such is my issue with The Male Gazed: Betancourt鈥檚 trauma stalls his analytical propulsion. Victimhood is no stand-in for culture, less still an engine for hot takes. As glimmers in the final pages, Betancourt is capable of cultural critique that weds his life to larger observations about masculinity and queerness. To this end, being called a 鈥渇aggot鈥� is ancillary鈥攊f only he would realize that. 

Though the vampire is a global phenomenon, the Western canon鈥檚 depiction has come to dominate contemporary mythology and pop culture. This framing is heavily influenced by whiteness, creating a particular stereotype of these creatures of the night. But on closer examination, the vampire is more queer and racialized than white fans may realize.

Vampires play an ancient role in Western mythology; the Greeks and Romans both had their versions, and variants spread throughout Europe. In the 1700s, a vampire 鈥溾�� in Eastern Europe terrified communities. But these vampires were not aloof, mysterious, sexy creatures; they were bodies of real humans, bloated with blood and accused of spreading disease. Villagers responded by exhuming and staking them. Less than a century later, panicked New Englanders, terrified by a tuberculosis outbreak, were , sometimes removing their hearts in addition to mutilating some remains.

These vampires were figures of disgust, horror, and spectacle, gripping entire villages in a frenzy of fear. It wasn鈥檛 until the gothic era of the late 1800s that a different version of the vampire began to emerge. Fittingly, one of the earliest influential vampires of English-language fiction was queer. The titular and enigmatic vampire Carmilla of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu鈥檚 1872 novella is obsessed with the teenage Laura. As a series of young women sicken and die in the villages around them, Laura experiences vivid dreams about night visitations. Carmilla is eventually exposed, and establishes many elements of vampire mythos, which often reflects the queer community鈥檚 outsider status: She is sexualized, enigmatic, slightly tragic, found in a coffin, and neutralized with the aid of staking and beheading. 

The more famous Dracula was published just 25 years later, in 1897, introducing the vampire who launched a thousand bats. The story has been adapted repeatedly for film, television, and stage, in addition to inspiring numerous texts. A hundred years later, the character would resurface on Buffy the Vampire Slayer in 鈥淏uffy vs. Dracula,鈥� an episode that drew heavily on the Dracula mythos as an enthralling, mysterious, sexual being who stood out from the pack of primarily violent, cruel vampires who met their final deaths at Buffy鈥檚 hands. Over the course of the 20th century, vampires had evolved into something sexy, as seen in Anne Rice鈥檚 novel Interview With the Vampire, published in 1976; mysterious and broody like in Angel; a little gonzo like in True Blood; and powerful鈥攚ith wealth attached to that power, as was the case in Twilight and Vampire Academy.

These works include very few characters of color, if any, and most are one-dimensional; either their race is not engaged with as a meaningful part of the story or it is entirely incidental. For example, on Buffy, Black and Brown characters tend to be disposable and many are cartoonish caricatures. The evolution of vampires over the 20th century in some ways paralleled the changing mainstream perception of Black culture, and how it entered pop culture, as illustrated by Blade, introduced by Marvel in 1973 and consciously written as a Black character. Though he鈥檚 a slayer, not a vampire, he has become one of the most iconic Black characters in the canon, appearing on screen as well as the page. Black people have profoundly informed white culture, often as white-mediated objects of entertainment such as the grotesque display of Sarah Baartman, minstrel shows, and the Mandingo myth. Expressions of Black creativity and community such as Jazz Age cool, rap, or Black Twitter have also fascinated white audiences. That influence extends to vampires, even when it hasn鈥檛 been explicit. The fundamental depiction of a terrifying yet seductive inhuman being mirrors white attitudes about Blackness, a world in which 鈥渢hey鈥� walk among 鈥渦s鈥� but are forever marked as 鈥渙ther.鈥�

And yet, something very interesting is happening to the wider vampire canon, which is at last moving away from whiteness: Creators who are Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) are introducing rich elements to the narrative, claiming the vampire as their own cultural birthright and one not limited to whiteness or the West. Many are drawing upon mythologies from their own communities, introducing them more widely to English-language readers.

This is a marked departure from watered-down white efforts at 鈥渄iversity, equity, and inclusion,鈥� the current catchphrase in the . These creators are actively seizing control of the narrative for themselves, flipping expectations by drawing upon or referencing the Eurocentric canon, but not treating it as a holy arbiter of all things vampire.

Creators of color have always contributed to the vampire canon, of course; Alexandre Dumas鈥� The Pale Lady, published in 1849, was a foundational work, and vampires even appeared in Blaxploitation films such as 1972鈥檚 Blacula and 1973鈥檚 Ganja & Hess. In 1991, Jewelle Gomez published The Gilda Stories, a work rooted deeply in her identity as a Black Indigenous lesbian; she is also a noted activist, elder, and voice in Afrofuturism. The story revolves around an enslaved woman seeking freedom who is taken in by a pair of vampires in 1850, and moves through history and into the future. It is a novel about found family and building community, friendship and mentorship, and Black cultural experiences. It doesn鈥檛 include the things that are required in the white canon, such as exclusivity, money, and power. 

complained that she didn鈥檛 feel 鈥渋n鈥� on the 鈥渃ode鈥� of the book, expressing a common frustration of white readers when engaging with texts that are not written with them in mind. She also complained that 鈥渢his *isn鈥檛* a vampire story,鈥� reflecting an offended sensibility: Gomez鈥檚 contribution to vampire lore is not, evidently, sufficiently vampiric.

BIPOC creators are used to similar complaints, and in recent years, many have begun to actively defy them. Malaysian author Zen Cho鈥檚 2011 short story 鈥淭he House of Aunts鈥� revolves around the life of Ah Lee, a teenage vampire who lives with her all-female family. She is a pontianak, a Southeast Asian vampire who eats intestines, not blood. The lively, funny, sweet love story unapologetically integrates politics, culture, and language. It is set in the real world, albeit one where your aunties eat your love interests instead of chasing them off.

鈥淚n books and movies it seemed quite romantic to be a vampire, but Ah Lee and her aunts were clearly the wrong sort of people for the ruffled shirt and velvet jacket style of vampirism,鈥� Cho writes in 鈥淭he House of Aunts,鈥� directly confronting Western expectations for vampire stories. In 鈥淪antos de Sampaguitas,鈥� American author Alyssa Wong, who is of Chinese and Filipino descent, similarly draws on mythos and folklore in a 2014 story featuring a manananggal, a creature that feeds on pregnant women and those in love. Wong鈥檚 short story, which seamlessly uses English and Tagalog, is about family and connections as much as it is about monsters.

Silvia Moreno-Garcia similarly referenced regional folklore in 2016鈥檚 Certain Dark Things. In her book, vampires live in public, but are being driven out of many European nations, with many landing in Central America thanks to immigration pressures. As different vampire communities gather, tensions follow, and they evolve into a series of gangs heavily influenced by colonial pressures as the Indigenous vampire community struggles to survive. The Mexico City of Certain Dark Things may not be one that white readers know, understand, and expect. In a , Moreno-Garcia noted that the book drew on the real world, a way to explore scary things in the news through fiction. Rather than being escapist, it is rooted in reality.

Polynesian filmmaker Taika Waititi also directly confronted white expectations for vampire stories with his 2014 feature film (followed by a 2019 FX series) with Jemaine Clement. What We Do in the Shadows is a mockumentary-style comedy featuring a classic setup: Four guys in a flat and their wacky doings, except the guys are vampires. It鈥檚 a direct send-up of vampire lore that also explores outsider culture and the alienation of being on the wrong side of society. The 2008鈥�2013 series Being Human similarly explored the supernatural share house genre, albeit with a vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost.

These works don鈥檛 just push against what a vampire story is 鈥渟upposed鈥� to be. They create a new kind of story, in which the subtext becomes text, and the characters鈥� experience of race, gender, and sexuality is a vital, vibrant feature. Instead of being a hollow echo via a white creator鈥檚 interpretation, their experience is a rich and complete element of the story, ultimately making it more dynamic.

Rather than relying on a canon rooted in some ugly things鈥攚hat were all those white vampires doing in the mid-1800s to save up so much money?鈥攖hese works envision a world where vampires walk among us and are shaped by the myths and folklore of the communities they live in, as well as their contemporary societies. And, rather than steal from other cultures, they reflect creators claiming space. Instead of being an object of consumption, the vampire and creator are instead aligned with readers. 

While there鈥檚 nothing new about women across , , and embracing traditional gender roles, the rise of promoting this style of thinking is a newer phenomenon.

is drawing more women to this movement. Both and femininity influencers of color peddle the idea that attracting and partnering with a man will give women financial stability. Plus: Why claw your way to the top of a male-dominated and misogynistic workplace when a man can take care of you instead? While the COVID-19 pandemic is causing , is , conservative legislatures are , and , the is as the solution. 

鈥淭hese conversations are not brand new,鈥� says , a lifestyle coach with more than 120,000 followers on TikTok. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e just being transmitted in a different form, and that form is social media.鈥� Shanu coaches on femininity and dating, but not in the conservative sense. She has helped hundreds of 鈥渙verworked and overstimulated鈥� women tap into 鈥渟ofter aspects of feminine energy,鈥� which she describes as 鈥渂eing nurturing, being compassionate, [having] a sensitivity to emotion, [and having] a desire to connect or build communities.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

For Black women, in particular, femininity content can be appealing, perhaps because of its unintentional portrayal of the 鈥�,鈥� a 19th-century idea that women should be . Black women were , partly because they . A town in South Carolina even made it in 1918 so they could care for white families. 

As Shanu explains, 鈥溾�婭t was an act of rebellion for, in particular, the Caucasian woman to not be a housewife and to leave the home and get a job and earn as much as a man. However, for Black women at that time, that was not a life that they were accustomed to鈥擝lack women were already in the workplace.鈥� When considering the context of and femininity being devalued in society, it makes sense that some Black women are eager to reclaim their femininity.

It鈥檚 important to note that a lot of femininity content has been as . , the belief that there鈥檚 a single, inherent way to be a man or a woman, is oppressive to both cisgender and transgender women. While performing femininity can be empowering for some, being forced to and, given the number of , dangerous. 

And yet, as , a leading expert in feminism and media, notes, . 鈥淲e have a system in which being masculine depends on women鈥檚 vulnerability,鈥� she says. 鈥淗ow are you supposed to provide [for] and protect a woman if she鈥檚 not vulnerable? If a woman says, 鈥業鈥檓 going to provide for myself, and I don鈥檛 need or want your protection,鈥� where does that leave masculinity? The entire premise of American masculinity is the vulnerability of women.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

As Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels note in , to squeeze the maximum amount of labor possible from male workers while allowing women, who are caring for the home and the children, to be lorded over by those men. As women began working outside the home, as well as making gains in secondary education, . 鈥淎nd our society doesn鈥檛 value care work,鈥� says Chemaly.

The growing embrace of the tradwife life could be seen as a rebuke of , as well as the 鈥�.鈥� If you鈥檙e going to have to juggle a career with all of the housework, why not just lean into the latter? Reverting to conventional gender norms, which Black women and other women of color never had access to, can be, as Chemaly says, 鈥渁 comfortable place in a very destabilizing time.鈥� This specific thirst for economic stability comes with the promise that being a 鈥攁 woman who upholds patriarchal standards to appeal to men鈥攚ill keep you safe. proves that to be untrue.

Instead of prioritizing marriage, what if we improved material conditions for women? What if we established ? What if ? What if we invested in , , , and ? Would content promoting traditional gender roles still be as appealing as it has become?

It鈥檚 jarring to see so many promote anti-feminist ideals while our rights are actively deteriorating. Relying on patriarchal ideas makes a hollow movement, but perhaps none of these influencers and their followers are trying to lead a movement to liberate women. Instead, maybe they鈥檙e just trying to survive. 

Ten-hour workdays were common for me, so I welcomed Odell鈥檚 suggestion to consider doing nothing as anti-capitalist praxis. But it was still a difficult message to digest after years of being trained to value productivity above all else. In her latest book, , Odell proposes a similarly challenging message: If time is the unit of measurement that most humans share, and it鈥檚 divided to generate profit rather than to nourish and care, then how do we deconstruct the structure of time? 

Excavating the origins of how Western societies conceptualize time, Odell explores the relationship between our color-coded daily schedules and colonization. Drawing on historian Giordano Nanni鈥檚 2012 book, , Odell connects the dividing of our days into seconds, minutes, and hours to Europe鈥檚 colonial domination. In seeking to universalize working hours to increase production, the Western clock arrived in the colonies as a tool to 鈥渢ame鈥� the people who lived there. Indeed, as Odell writes, 鈥淎 standardized approach to time and labor often accompanied colonists wherever they went.鈥� Colonists even determined how 鈥渃ivilized鈥� Indigenous communities were based on how they conceptualized time.

Instead of breaking down their time into hours of profit-making work, Indigenous groups organized their societies according to tasks that needed to be done for the survival of the community. Work was not something they did to make money; it was done to be 鈥減art of a social economy鈥� where work time and nonwork time had no differentiation. The multidisciplinary artist and author argues that remaking our conception of time can be a liberatory tool. 鈥淚 believe that a real meditation on the nature of time, unbound from its everyday capitalist incarnation, shows that neither our lives nor the life of the planet is a foregone conclusion,鈥� Odell writes, putting forth the claim that how we conceptualize time is neither humane nor logical.

The time structures we operate under aren鈥檛 arbitrary; they鈥檙e designed to support capitalism, and, as workers, we鈥檙e selling our time. Implicit in this line of thought is a question: What do we lose when we鈥檙e forced to sell our time to capitalism? This exposition is, in part, to show readers that 鈥渢ime is money鈥� isn鈥檛 written in stone and that we would benefit from questioning it. 鈥淲hen the relationship of time to literal money is expressed as a natural fact, it obscures the political relationship between the seller of time and its buyer,鈥� Odell argues. 

Like many freelance millennials, I measure my time according to how much money I can potentially make鈥攈ow long can I work before I do actual harm to myself? How early do I have to get up to get an assignment done? When do I need to file an assignment so I can get paid before rent is due? Drawing on a 1925 book that exemplifies Taylorism, a productivity management methodology, to demonstrate how we divide our time into profit, Odell perfectly describes my day-to-day: 鈥淸Increasing Personal Efficiency by Donald Laird] is shot through with the cultural moment鈥檚 fixation on speed, mastery, and a single-minded mission to cut out the useless,鈥� Odell notes. While the book is from 1925, I saw myself in how Laird describes the cutthroat time management workers are expected to model to maximize their profit-making time. 

The obvious answer to this conundrum would be to rest and return to work at a later date, but the problem with this鈥攁s Odell distills in the chapter 鈥淐an There Be Leisure?鈥濃�攊s that nonwork time always becomes a pathway toward more work. Beyond the fact that rest requires a certain amount of financial privilege, we鈥檙e encouraged to take time off so we can work when we鈥檙e no longer tired. We鈥檙e resting to become better at our jobs. Odell concludes that in our culture, leisure time鈥攖he commonly doled out 鈥攅xists only for us to return to work and eventually tire ourselves out again and again. 

It鈥檚 easy to feel hopeless about our current conditions when the things that are supposed to heal us push us back toward the systems that are destroying us. Odell鈥檚 鈥減anoramic assault on nihilism,鈥� as she calls it, is palpable in Saving Time; while she insists on addressing what hurts society, she鈥檚 also adamant about finding an escape, a new way to live. She puts forth the idea that since our relationship to time is so intimately connected to how we view the world, we have to change that perspective. That could look like forgoing the human conception of time, which doesn鈥檛 account for the many other beings鈥攖rees, animals, rivers鈥攖hat operate within their own concept of time, or rather, their own desires and needs. 

We could also lean in to the Indigenous perspectives of embeddedness in and attentiveness to place (commonly translated as 鈥溾��). Embracing bioregionalism would allow us to resist the concept of linearly organized time. 鈥淏ioregionalism is useful here both as metaphor and as concrete demonstration, in that its timescales overlap and sometimes lie outside the human perspective,鈥� Odell writes. 鈥淓xpressed simply as change, ecological and geological time are full of difference: Things happen both quickly and slowly, at both tiny and inconceivably epic scales.鈥�

This is perhaps where Odell risks losing some readers by turning to a more abstract solution. She encourages readers to look for 鈥淸the] irrepressible force that drives this moment into the next.鈥� I know exactly what she means: a kind of leisure that can鈥檛 be pinpointed and therefore can鈥檛 be commodified. It can be the moment I see a bird sit on a branch by my window, or the overwhelming realization that the universe is alive and that I am in it. It can be the instant I realize we are all breathing the same air at a protest, and that we are all here, together. 

As Odell puts it, the point isn鈥檛 鈥渢o live more, in the literal sense of a longer or more productive life, but rather, to be more alive in any given moment鈥攁 movement outward and across, rather than shooting forward on a narrow, lonely track.鈥� Reclaiming a life beyond the clock is that movement outward and across, toward other bodies, toward dreaming together, toward a world no longer constrained by the chains of time. 

Torsheta Jackson is an award-winning journalist and native Mississippian who is passionate about penning features that showcase the stories of the people, places, and events in the Magnolia State. The former teacher and coach specifically loves to share the state鈥檚 rich culture of sports. She has bylines in the Jackson Free Press, Mississippi Free Press, Mississippi Scoreboard, and Bash Brothers Media. Twitter:

Chantal Flores is a Mexico-based freelance journalist investigating the impact of enforced disappearances in Latin America and the Balkans. She also covers gender violence, human rights, and immigration. Her work has been published by The Verge, MIT Technology Review, Jezebel, Al Jazeera, Vice, In These Times, and more. Twitter:

Alicia Kennedy is a writer based in San Juan, Puerto Rico. She writes a weekly newsletter on food culture, politics, and media called From the Desk of Alicia Kennedy, and she is the author of the forthcoming book No Meat Required: The Cultural History and Culinary Future of Plant-Based Eating. Twitter:

Art Contributors

Anne Staveley has 20 years of experience as a professional photographer, builder, large-scale photo muralist, and installation artist. Staveley creates conscious conversation through portraiture and art and uses photography to capture the human spirit鈥檚 endless creativity. Instagram:

Mer Young is an Indigenous (Chichimeca and Apache), socially engaged, Southern California鈥揵ased artist whose body of work includes collages, drawings, paintings, and murals. She is the founder of Mausi Murals, and has been widely exhibited nationally and internationally. Her public artworks can be found throughout Los Angeles County and California鈥檚 South Bay. Instagram:

Ali Kamara is a London-based illustrator and motion graphic artist who creates vibrant and psychedelic visuals with a focus on music, modern culture, and social commentary. Hip-hop culture, classic Hollywood cinematography, and abstract anime all inform his design, which includes album artwork, audiovisuals, magazine covers, brand design, and more. His notable clients include HBO, Vice Media, Atlantic Records, Virgin EMI Records, Highsnobiety, and hip-hop streetwear pioneer Karl Kani. Instagram:

I鈥檓 writing to you with a full heart. I鈥檝e noticed my heart often feels this way during a transition from what is now to what is next. Like when something long desired is finally realized, a thirst is quenched, or when something treasured departs.

The transitions that are filling my heart with excitement, a bit of sadness, and enormous gratitude are related to our board of directors鈥攖he amazing volunteers who help ensure that 大象传媒 is fulfilling its critical mission.

In January, after 19 years of board service鈥攊ncluding the last three as co-chair鈥擳anya Dawkins resigned her post. Tanya鈥檚 decades of dedication have been an incredible gift to 大象传媒 To every conversation she brought deep listening, honesty, and mutual respect. To every challenge she brought courage and resolve. And to every opportunity she brought bold enthusiasm. I will miss her wisdom, wry humor, and reassuring energy and presence. 

But this sadness is tempered by enthusiasm and excitement for what鈥檚 next, as Berit Anderson joins Eli Feghali as co-chair鈥攖hey will be a fantastic team. And after thoughtful conversations with many of the 90 impressive candidates who responded to our community call for board nominations in July, we are thrilled to announce the addition of five exceptional human beings to our board: Monique Davis, Samir Doshi, Khalilah Elliott, Lindsay Hill, and Cameron Trimble. 

Together with our existing board, they bring organizational vision, a deep commitment to equity, and connections to movements and philanthropy. They bring experience in strategic design, organizational development, change management, financial oversight, engaging new audiences, community-based fundraising, and scaling organizations. Most importantly, they dearly love 大象传媒 and want to ensure it reaches its full potential to help realize the equitable, sustainable, and compassionate world we know is possible. I believe that this board, working together with our outstanding staff and leadership team, can make anything happen! 

You can learn more about all of our board members at .

In gratitude, 
Christine Hanna

P.S. We look forward to working together to tell the stories that matter. Please visit to set up a monthly gift or make a special one-time gift today so we can keep the stories coming. Thank you!

What kind of work and/or volunteering do you do?
I teach fourth and fifth grade and am also a parent to a 7-year-old. I use articles and artwork from 大象传媒 frequently in my work. 大象传媒 provides content that informs and inspires me to write new and engaging curriculum, as well as ideas that challenge me to reflect on and revisit my teaching practice and pedagogy. 

Why do you support 大象传媒 as a donor?
Though there are many aspects of the future that concern or even frighten me, accessibility to honest and diverse media is something I feel very strongly should be protected. 

Young people have such a reliance on media to understand the world around them and perspectives other than their own. They will need media sources that inspire them in the future.

How does 大象传媒 support your values and your work to build a better world?
As a white woman, I feel like any opportunity to get outside of the bubble of my own life is an opportunity to grow. I like that the articles are not designed to make every reader comfortable. It鈥檚 important that we question ourselves and challenge our thinking. Reading 大象传媒 allows us to do that.

Why do you feel the work of 大象传媒 is important?
Two things stand out to me the most about 大象传媒:

First, it鈥檚 visible on the pages of the magazine that the target audience cannot be described as any one demographic, and that the complex intersectionality of our identities as readers is honored and brought into the stories. 

Second, there is intentionality in allowing all readers to access the stories. I think it鈥檚 so important that 大象传媒 is thinking about the creative ways that readers can visually and audibly experience the stories if reading might not be their first choice, or might not even be accessible to them. 

If a friend was considering supporting 大象传媒, what would you say to them?
I always say, 鈥淐heck it out,鈥� and when they do, they always keep reading!

28.8%^{1, 2}

Decrease in annual U.S. executions, 1999 to 2019:

77.6%²

Number of U.S. jurisdictions that have abolished the death penalty (as of April 22, 2020):

23

Increase in U.S. life without parole sentences, 2003 to 2016:

59%³

U.S. prisoners currently serving life sentences for nonviolent crimes:

More than 17,000⁴

Share of U.S. eligible voters who are naturalized immigrants, 2000:

6.2%

Share of U.S. eligible voters who are naturalized immigrants, 2020:

9.8%

Increase in immigrant eligible voting population since 2000:

93%

Increase in U.S.-born eligible voting population since 2000:

18%

Share of immigrant eligible voters living in California, New York, Florida, Texas, or New Jersey:

61%⁵

Share of the U.S. fiction market accounted for by the romance genre in 2016:

23%⁶

Annual value of the romance novel industry:

$1.08 billion⁷

The New York Times Bestsellers written by romance novelist Nora Roberts (including those under her pseudonym J.D. Robb):

195^听

Combined number of weeks Roberts鈥� books have spent on The New York Times Bestseller list:

1,045^听

Years passed between publication of Roberts鈥� first bestseller and The New York Times hiring its first romance reviewer:

27^{8, 9}

Number of U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics occupations that are easiest to automate:

12¹⁰

Ease with which those occupations (ranging from data entry clerks to watch repairers) could be computerized, on a scale of 0 to 1:

0.99

Total number of Americans employed in those occupations in May 2018:

802,510¹¹

Annual living wage for a family of four in 2018:

$67,146¹²

Amount it would cost to pay workers in those occupations the annual living wage if they lost their jobs:

$53.9 billion

Decrease in 2018 U.S. government defense spending that would cover that amount:

8.3%¹³

Sources: 1. Death Penalty Information Center 2. NAACP Legal Defense Fund 3. The Colorado Independent 4. The Sentencing Project 5. Pew Research 6. NPD Books Romance Landscape study, commissioned by Romance Writers of America 7. The Balance Careers 8. Nora Roberts 9. The New York Times 10. Oxford Martin School 鈥淔uture of Employment鈥� report 11. U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics 12. MIT Living Wage Calculator 13. Stockholm International Peace Research Institute 

14% ^[1]

Americans who are mainline Protestants:

14.7% ^[2]

Americans who believe the 2020 election was stolen:

29%^[1]

Americans who are evangelical Protestants: 

25.4% ^[2]

鈥淭rue tax rate鈥� from 2014鈥�2018 for the wealthiest American, Amazon.com founder Jeff Bezos:

0.98% ^[3]

Rate from 2014鈥�2018 for Tesla CEO Elon Musk, the second-richest American:

3.27%

Wealth gained by Bezos since January 2020:

$86 billion ^[4]

Wealth gained by Musk since January 2020:

$144 billion

Net decrease in total number of American jobs from January 2020 to May 2021:

7.3 million ^[5]

Number of Americans who became billionaires from March 2020 to April 2021:

98 ^[6]

Americans confident that German Chancellor Angela Merkel will do the right thing regarding world affairs:

63% ^[7]

Out of 17 countries surveyed, number with less confidence in Merkel than the U.S.:

1

Americans confident that President Biden will do the right thing regarding world affairs:

60%

Number of countries with less confidence in Biden than the U.S.:

0

Centuries since the first documented sightings of Antarctica by Western explorers:

2 ^[8]

Centuries since Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan sailed past Tierra del Fuego, then thought to be the northern tip of a vast southern continent:

5 ^[9]

Centuries since Polynesian explorer Hui Te Rangiora and his sailors probably became the first people to sail Antarctic waters and to set foot on the continent:

14 ^[10]

Number of live bees used in the production of the 1992 horror film Candyman:

Nearly 200,000 ^[11]

According to his contract, amount of bonus money made by star Tony Todd every time he got stung:

$1,000 ^[12]

Bee stings suffered by Todd during the production of the film:

23

Stings suffered by Todd during the 2021 remake of Candyman:

Unknown

 Times Fox News programming mentioned 鈥渃ritical race theory鈥� from March 1鈥揓une 15, 2021:

1,278 ^[13]

Number of states that introduced or passed bills to ban teaching of critical race theory during the same period:

18^[14]

Number of these states with Republican control over both legislative houses and the governorship:

11^[15]

Sources: [1] .  [2] .  [3] .  [4] .  [5] .  [6] .  [7] .  [8] .  [9] .  [10] .  [11] .  [12] .  [13] .  [14] .  [15] . 

Share of U.S. adults who 鈥渓ack proficiency in literacy,鈥� reading below the sixth-grade level:

52% ^[1]

Share of adults with the lowest literacy levels who live in poverty:

43% ^[2]

Share of 12th-grade students who achieved 鈥減roficient鈥� or higher in reading performance on the National Assessment of Educational Progress in 2015:

37% ^[3]

Student score difference between low-poverty schools and high-poverty schools:

32 points 

Official 2020 U.S. poverty rate:

11.4% ^[4]

Poverty rate according to the Supplemental Poverty Measure (SPM), which incorporates government assistance:

9.1%

Times the SPM rate has been lower than the official measure prior to 2020:

0

2020 SPM rate without government stimulus checks during the COVID-19 pandemic:

12.7%

Championships currently considered to be the most prestigious titles in World Wrestling Entertainment:

9 ^[5]

Wrestlers who have won these titles in 2021:

34 ^[6]

Number of these wrestlers who are BIPOC:

22

Black wrestlers who held the WWE World Championship from 1963 to 2019:

1 ^{[7] Dwayne 鈥淭he Rock鈥� Johnson, 1998}

Black wrestlers who have held the WWE World Championship from 2019 to 2021:

3 ^[8] 

Total construction time of the Panama Canal:

10 years  ^[9] 

Total construction time of the Taj Mahal:

17 years  ^[10] 

Time it鈥檚 taken George R. R. Martin to publish the A Song of Ice and Fire book series (the source material for Game of Thrones):

25 years (and counting) ^[11] 

Estimated number of eukaryotic species (species with complex cells) on Earth:

8.7 million  

Eukaryotic species that have been catalogued by humans:

1.2 million ^[12] 

Decrease in wildlife population sizes from 1970 to 2016:

68% ^[13]

Share of the world鈥檚 remaining biodiversity safeguarded by Indigenous peoples:

80% ^[14]

Share of the global land mass customarily managed by Indigenous peoples:

More than 50%

Share of the global land mass legally owned by Indigenous peoples:

10%

According to surveys of 1,388 heterosexual women, change in the number of women likely to casually date a man based on whether or not he鈥檚 pictured holding a cat:

鈥�2.8%

Change in the number of women willing to consider a long-term relationship with a man based on whether or not he鈥檚 pictured holding a cat:

鈥�2.6% ^[15] 

Share of American women who own a cat:

33%

Share of American men who own a cat:

37% ^[16] 

Sources: [1] . [2] . [3] . [4] . [5] . [6] . [7] . [8] . [9] . [10] . [11] . [12] . [13] . [14] . [15] . [16] .  

65.7% ¹

Number of Twitter 鈥渓ikes鈥� on J.K. Rowling鈥檚 June 2020 anti-trans manifesto that mentioned alleged increasing numbers of de-transitions:

60,500²

Percentage of respondents to a 2015 survey of trans people in the U.S. who had de-transitioned:

8%³

Percentage who, after de-transitioning, now identify as trans again and report they were living in a gender 鈥渄ifferent than the gender they were thought to be at birth鈥�:

62%

Percentage of nearly 3,400 trans patients receiving support at one U.K. gender identity clinic who 鈥渆xpressed transition-related regret or de-transitioned鈥�:

0.47%⁴

Suicide rate per 100,000 residents in Alaska, Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, and New Mexico, the states with the highest rates:

24.18⁵

Average population density (people per square mile) of these states:

15.5⁶

Suicide rate per 100,000 in New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Maryland, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, the states with the lowest rates:

9.47⁵

Average population density of these states:

817.67⁶

Increased likelihood of mortality corresponding with social isolation, according to a 2015 study:

29%⁷

In 2018, percentage of people surveyed who said they had seriously considered suicide in the previous 30 days:

4.3%

In the same survey, percentage of young adults who said they had seriously considered suicide:

10.7%

In August 2020, five months after lockdowns began, percentage of people who said they had seriously considered suicide:

11%

Percentage of young adults who said they had seriously considered suicide:

25.5%⁸

Percentage of U.S. adults who had heard of the repeatedly debunked QAnon conspiracy theory:

47%⁹

Of U.S. adults who鈥檝e heard of QAnon, percentage who believe it is 鈥渧ery accurate鈥� or 鈥渟omewhat accurate鈥�:

24%

Of Republicans who鈥檝e heard of it, percentage who believe QAnon is 鈥渧ery accurate鈥� or 鈥渟omewhat accurate鈥�:

38%¹⁰

Candidates who ran for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives in the 2020 election who have associated with QAnon:

29¹¹

Total number of votes received by these candidates:

3,401,944

Number of these candidates who won:

2¹²

Number of QAnon followers who have been charged with murder in crimes directly related to their belief in the theory:

2¹³

Sources: 1. . 2. . 3. 4. 5. 6.  7. 8. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, via 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. and

67¹

Number of times an impeached Supreme Court justice has been successfully removed:

0²

Number of Senate votes needed to pass an act of Congress:

51

Number of times the size of the Supreme Court has been changed by an act of Congress:

7

Number of years since the last change in the size of the Supreme Court:

151

Number of times the Supreme Court has been directly involved in a presidential election:

1 (in 2000)³

Number of demonstrations in the U.S. from May 24 to Aug. 22, 2020:

More than10,600⁴

Number of protests linked to the Black Lives Matter movement:

More than 7,750

Percentage of these protests in which protesters engaged in 鈥渧iolence or destructive activity鈥�:

Less than 7

Number of counter-protests during the same time period:

More than 360

Percentage of these counter-protests that turned violent:

12

Percentage of BLM-associated protests during this period that were met with government intervention:

More than 9

Percentage of all other protests during this period that were met with government intervention:

3

Average reduction in driving in California, Idaho, and Maine from early March to mid-April 2020 as a result of stay-at-home orders:

69%

Average number of large animals killed every day on California, Idaho, and Maine state highways in the four weeks prior to those states issuing stay-at-home orders:

10.8

Average number of large animals killed per day in the four weeks after the orders:

6.8

Estimated number of large animals whose lives could be saved every year in these three states if traffic remained reduced:

5,700 to 13,000 ⁵

Average annual increase in total miles traveled by American vehicles from 2011 to 2018:

42.2 billion⁶

Sources: 

1. U.S. Constitution, Article 1, Section 3

2. U.S. Supreme Court

3. National Constitution Center

4. Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project

5. Road Ecology Center, University of California, Davis

6. Federal Highway Administration

Mark P. Fancher is a human rights attorney, writer, and activist. Over the course of his 36-year career he has fought: police misconduct, over-incarceration, employment discrimination, racially discriminatory school discipline, unannounced plant closings, racist violence, and political repression. Driven and sustained by his Christian faith, he has been an advocate for African liberation and the right to self-determination for underdeveloped countries and Indigenous communities. He has worked as staff attorney for the Racial Justice Project of the ACLU of Michigan; senior staff attorney for the Sugar Law Center for Economic and 大象传媒; State Bar of Michigan Access to Justice special projects director.

Damon Centola is professor of communication, sociology, and engineering at the University of Pennsylvania, where he is director of the Network Dynamics Group, and a senior fellow at the Leonard Davis Institute of Health Economics. His interest in how social networks activate social change began during his childhood years, when he was surrounded by changemakers鈥攁ctivists and entrepreneurs working to spread awareness about new social issues. His research on social change has been published across a wide range of fields, including sociology, physics, and medicine. He is the author of Change: The Power in the Periphery to Make Big Things Happen.

Natasha Chassagne, Ph.D., is an Australian writer and researcher on sustainability, climate change, and well-being. She specializes in community-led impact, particularly Buen Vivir as a framework for social and environmental well-being. Natasha has also worked with corporations, governments, and nonprofits consulting on sustainability impacts, and has a master鈥檚 degree in international law. She speaks English, French, and Spanish. Interview excerpts were taken from her Ph.D. research and appear in her first book, Buen Vivir as an Alternative to Sustainable Development: Lessons from Ecuador, published in November by Routledge.

Jeremy Lent is an author whose writings investigate the patterns of thought that have led our civilization to its current existential crisis. His recent book, The Patterning Instinct: A Cultural History of Humanity鈥檚 Search for Meaning, explores the way humans have made meaning of the cosmos from hunter-gatherer times to the present day. He is founder of the nonprofit Liology Institute, dedicated to fostering an integrated worldview that could enable humanity to thrive sustainably on Earth. His upcoming book is The Web of Meaning: Integrating Science and Traditional Wisdom to Find Our Place in the Universe.

Winona LaDuke is an internationally renowned environmentalist, economist, author, and industrial hemp grower. She is executive director of Honor The Earth and founder of the White Earth Land Recovery Project and is known for her work on tribal land claims and sustainable tribal economies. She is an enrolled member of the Mississippi Band Anishinaabeg of the White Earth Nation in northern Minnesota. In 1996 and 2000, she was the Green Party鈥檚 vice presidential candidate. Her books include Last Standing Woman, All Our Relations and In the Sugarbush. LaDuke is a 大象传媒 contributing editor. 

Vandana Shiva is a scholar, author, and activist. Her pioneering work around food sovereignty, traditional agriculture, and women鈥檚 rights has shifted how the world views these issues. She has received numerous awards and honors for her work and has authored more than 20 books, including Reclaiming the Commons: Biodiversity, Indigenous Knowledge, and the Rights of Mother Earth. She currently lives between Delhi and Dehradun, Uttaranchal at Navdanya, a women-led organic farm, school, and caf茅 she founded that promotes justice for Earth and all living beings through agroecology and seed freedom.

Natriya Rampey is a photographer in Loudoun County, Virginia. She and other portrait photographers around the country are documenting quarantine life through portraits, often taken from a car. Rampey uses social media and text to notify residents when she鈥檒l be driving through the area. Families dress up and make signs and wait on their porches for their portraits, which are shared with the hashtag #InItTogether. 鈥淧orch Photography: In It Together鈥� has a public Facebook group. There鈥檚 no charge for porch photos, but she does accept donations for local food pantries. As of May, she鈥檇 raised over $3,000.

Nafeez Ahmed is an award-winning investigative journalist, systems theorist, and change strategist who has advised and consulted for several governmental and intergovernmental agencies. He is Executive Director of the System Shift Lab, editor of the crowdfunded platform INSURGE intelligence and a Research Fellow at the Schumacher Institute for Sustainable Systems. He is the author of eight books including Failing States, Collapsing Systems: BioPhysical Triggers of Political Violence (Springer-Nature, 2017) and A User鈥檚 Guide to the Crisis of Civilization: And How to Save It (Pluto, 2010).

Tim DeChristopher is co-founder of the Climate Disobedience Center. DeChristopher made world headlines in 2008 when he disrupted a government oil and gas auction by posing as Bidder 70 and outbidding oil companies for parcels around Arches and Canyonlands National Parks in Utah. For his act of civil disobedience, he was imprisoned for 21 months. He has used this as a platform to spread awareness of the urgency of the climate crisis and the need for bold, confrontational action to create a just and healthy world.

Erin K. Robinson started her creative journey making costumes for television and movies in Los Angeles before returning to New York to design for children鈥檚 wear companies, such as the Gap and The Children鈥檚 Place, before re-inventing herself and venturing into the illustration world. Her work can be found in many well-known newspapers and magazines, and in her first fully illustrated book, Brave Black First: 50 African American Women Who Changed the World, with Crown Books and the Smithsonian NMAAHC. She divides her time between New York City and Washington, D.C.

Jamon Jordan is an educator, writer, and historian. Jamon has been a teacher and researcher of African and African American history for more than 20 years. He is founder and CEO of  Black Scroll Network History & Tours in Detroit, where he leads tours and presentations on African and African American history. He also serves as the President of the Detroit branch of the Association for the Study of African American Life and History (ASALH Detroit), and on the Board of Trustees for the Historical Society of Michigan. Jamon has been featured on CBS Radio, NPR, C-SPAN, CNN, and the History Channel.

Michael Harriot is the senior writer at TheRoot.com where he covers the intersection of race, politics, and culture. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, The New York Times, and on his mother鈥檚 refrigerator. He is a frequent political commentator on MSNBC and CNN, and earned the National Association of Black Journalists Award for digital commentary, as well as TV writing. Michael earned a bachelor鈥檚 degree in Mass Communications from Auburn University and a Masters in Macroeconomics from Florida State University. His book, BlackAF History, will be released in the spring of 2021.

Stan Cox is a research scholar in ecosphere studies at The Land Institute in Salina, Kansas. His six books include The Path to a Livable Future: Forging a New Politics to Fight Climate Change, Racism, and the Next Pandemic (2021); The Green New Deal and Beyond: Ending the Climate Emergency While We Still Can (2020); Losing Our Cool: Uncomfortable Truths About Our Air-Conditioned World (2010); and, with Paul Cox, How the World Breaks: Life in Catastrophe鈥檚 Path, from the Caribbean to Siberia (2016).

Andrew Lee鈥檚 work and writing engage with emergent social configurations and movements; domestic and international displacements; and land, loss, and liberation. His work has previously appeared in outlets including Notes From Below, Perspectives on Anarchist Theory, Plan A Magazine, and Teen Vogue. Andrew is a long-time restaurant worker currently serving as managing editor for Anti-Racism Daily.

Lornet Turnbull is a freelance journalist based in Seattle, where she writes about the region for national publications. She鈥檚 a former 大象传媒 editor who joined the magazine in 2017, inspired by the organization鈥檚 commitment to give voice to marginalized communities following the 2016 election. Over the years, her work has earned her local, state, and national journalism recognition; she was part of the Seattle Times team that won the 2015 Pulitzer Prize for breaking news. Her writing has appeared in the Washington Post and other publications. 

]]> 94607 /issue/world-we-want/2020/02/19/yes-issue-contributors Thu, 20 Feb 2020 00:00:45 +0000 /?post_type=magazine-article&p=77182

Alexandra Bowman is an illustrator, designer, and muralist based in Oakland, California. She creates art that reflects on the female experience and the importance of representation through inclusive imagery of gender, race, and culture. The Stay Woke glossary shows that language can be a tool of oppression, but when we form a response to that oppression, language can also be used as a tool for liberation. Defining our pain as well as our joy is a form of resistance. Twitter: @alexbowman

Oscar Perry Abello is a New York City-based journalist covering community and economic development across the United States. He is currently senior economics correspondent at Next City. After covering public banking and campaigns supporting it around the country, in the dead of winter, with high temperatures hovering around -1掳F, Oscar headed to North Dakota to talk to residents about their unique state-owned bank. He learned how few North Dakotans realize the extent of the bank鈥檚 reach and influence on their local economies. Twitter: @oscarthinks 

Irene Rinaldi is a freelance illustrator based in Rome. Her work is inspired by her love of engraving and print-making as well as mid-century graphic design. To illustrate 鈥淭he World We Want鈥� cover, Rinaldi says: 鈥淚 imagined our minds as a prism that can transform emotions into a vision, ideas into action, and ideals into reality for a better future. The rainbow coming out the woman鈥檚 eyes symbolizes worldwide peace, human rights, diversity, acceptance, and pride, but also a colorful, optimistic vision of the future despite the current state of things. After all, rainbows come after the rain.鈥�

Anoa Changa (she/her) is a Southern-based movement journalist. She has a deep history of working within the realms of advocacy and justice. She hosts the podcast The Way with Anoa, tackling politics and current events through a Black progressive feminist perspective. Changa received a B.A. in sociology and a master鈥檚 in city and regional planning from Ohio State University. She was awarded a J.D. from West Virginia University College of Law, where she was a W.E.B Du Bois fellowship recipient.

Edgar Villanueva is an enrolled member of the Lumbee Tribe. He is the founder and principal of Decolonizing Wealth and Liberated Capital. Villanueva is a nationally recognized expert on social justice philanthropy, previously holding leadership roles at the Schott Foundation, the Kate B. Reynolds Charitable Trust, and the Marguerite Casey Foundation. He currently serves as the chair of the board of directors of Native Americans in Philanthropy. He is the author of Decolonizing Wealth.  

Molly Costello (they/them) is a White queer illustrator, food grower, beekeeper, and seed saver. Through their art practice they explore themes of interconnectedness, reciprocity, biomimicry, police and prison abolition, as well as our larger capacities for social transformation. Molly hopes that through the making and sharing of their artwork they can play a small role in our deep work of reimagining and reshaping our dominant culture away from patterns of supremacy, violence, and greed toward cultures of accountability, collective wellness, and abundance.

An enchanting blanket of wildflower medicine adorns the continent. Carefully cultivated by Indigenous inhabitants for hundreds of years鈥攐ften thousands鈥攖hese blossoms, leaves, roots, and fruits generously cure the commonwealth in return. Each plant carries its own unique gift and healing stories. Deepening root systems and enhancing the health of the soil make these perennials and self-sowing annuals a wise investment for backyard and container gardens. 

Indigenous Americans reference fauna and flora as a People. Through this lens, paradigms shift. Considering our plant neighbors a People requires a different type of relationship, one of reciprocity and respect, the necessary mindset to see the reciprocity as we tend to each other. Meet seven deserving medicinal wildflowers to invite into your world.

Establishing a mindful apothecary is an empowering process and an incredible healing journey rich with stories and memories. For more information on uses and precautions, you can check websites of the Botanical Society of America and National Institutes of Health, or ask naturopathic health care providers. 

Part 1: Summer

A stylish mauve beehive shaped blossom, with a punk-rock spiky seed pod, perches atop a lanky stalk. Underground, a well-established root system builds bioactive compounds from elements in the soil called alkylamides. These compounds produce a tingly and numbing sensation on our tongue. Few plants create such a compound or are as effective at treating infections as Echinacea. 

Dozens of tribes have recorded historical uses and cultivation methods for Echinacea. Eclectic Physicians of the 19th century, who learned botanical healing from Native Americans, used Echinacea for many ailments, including upper respiratory infections, inflammation, throats, coughs, toothaches, and even snake bites.

More than just medicine for humans, Echinacea is one of the biggest attractors for pollinators. They bloom from mid-summer to fall, providing ample nectar for the honeybees. Echinacea tolerates poor rocky soil conditions and thrives in full to partial sun. Sow them from seed easily, or buy an established start from a local nursery to grow your own.  

A pocket of brambly canes armed with thorns protects soft silvery leaves and white flowers, which transform throughout summer into ruby raspberry fruits. Raspberry canes have been found in archeological dig sites that date back thousands of years in both North America and Asia. 

So much more than tasty berries, Raspberry offers leaves and roots that are useful for a variety of conditions. Linked to fertility in many traditions, Raspberry invokes the energy of the blood, pumping through the heart carrying good nutrition and love throughout the body. An affinity to the blood and its vessels makes consuming the fruit and drinking the leaf tea a wonderful women鈥檚 tonic. For ages, Raspberry has assisted in soothing labor pain, and easing contractions, muscle cramps, and nausea.  

Like its close cousin Rose, its thorns and nourishing qualities remind us to protect the fruits of our labor. This patient attitude comes in handy when beginning to cultivate Raspberry, as the first year鈥檚 growth does not produce many fruits; brambles focus on establishing their lengthy stalks. The second year will be more fruitful. In the meantime, the leaves can be harvested for tea. 

A prim apple-scented daisy-petaled flower sits atop a plume of light green lacy foliage. Chamomile does not originate in North America; it was brought by German settlers. Growing wild from North Africa into parts of Germany and Russia, this little flower has made quite a journey across continents and into backyard apothecaries. In South American healing traditions, Chamomile is called 鈥淢anzanilla鈥� which means 鈥渢iny apples.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This delicate flower imparts Motherly strength to aid sleeping and calm colicky baby tummies. Chamomile works on the digestive and nervous systems like a biochemical pinwheel, creating wide-ranging positive effects on conditions ranging from indigestion, diarrhea, and flatulence to anxiety, depression, and restlessness. It is applied externally to ease discomfort from chicken pox, diaper rash, and even eye infections. 

Seeds are easy to sow鈥攕imply sprinkle them where you want them to grow, in a partially sunny spot and watch them thrive. The flowers will be ready by summer, but Chamomile dies back in the fall. It is technically an annual, but once established will re-sow itself and return for years to come.  

Strong, sinewy deep green stems are adorned with leaves resembling a furry critter tail. Lance-shaped leaflets appear to hold up an umbrella of tiny white flowers. Yarrow has a global presence and can be found glittering on the beach shores and mountain tops of North America, South America, Europe, and Asia. 

Yarrow is used medicinally as an emergency tonic to stimulate healing and combat wound infections. These uses are documented in texts from The Odyssey to ancient Chinese medicine to the oral traditions of Indigenous Americans. Evidence of its use has been found in Neanderthal caves dating back 60,000 years. Yarrow鈥檚 ability to speak to the human body is fascinating. Active components within the flowering tops can stop an open wound from bleeding, diminish bacterial infection, and cool inflammation. Taken internally, Yarrow stimulates the immune system, can break a fever and relieve aches and pains caused by cold and flu symptoms. 

Growing Yarrow is simple, as it prefers loosened rocky soils, but will gladly thrive in a well-drained ceramic pot. Nowadays, Yarrow comes in a variety of colors, but it is the heirloom white Yarrow that has medicinal value. It flowers from late spring to fall. It will be a spotlight in your summer garden that bees will love.

A sweet, juicy fruit bejeweled with seeds amid a deep green quilt of trifoliate leaves. Included in numerous Indigenous oral histories, Strawberry symbolizes love, happiness, and blessings. 

Strawberry is considered among the most generous of the Plant People, with berries that relieve stress, quench thirst, and comfort us internally. Rich in vitamins and minerals, strawberry leaf tea is a tonic for our cardiovascular system and can help to alleviate upset stomachs, nausea, bloating, and diarrhea. Internally, it cools us down and eases inflammation. It has similar qualities to its relative the Raspberry, as it is also great support to blood vessels associated with women鈥檚 health. 

Strawberries replicate efficiently and can be prolific in the garden or a container. They will enthusiastically take over anywhere you plant them. 

Throughout summer, buttery yellow blooms form on fuzzy stems. Over 30 species of Arnica have been identified and are indigenous to mostly mountainous regions across the globe. Just two of those are used widely for medicine. Arnica chamissonis is the species originating from North America; Arnica montana, with origins in Europe, is the easiest to cultivate. 

Ancient preparations seem to conclude that this gilded blossom is a paramedic arriving at the scene of bodily traumas from a bump on the head to an overstrained back. Arnica鈥檚 powerful anti-inflammatory properties trigger pain relieving processes as soon as its medicine is applied topically. Recently, Arnica creams have become popular for soothing strained muscles, healing bruises, and offering pain relief for conditions such as osteoarthritis and carpal tunnel. It can now be found in hundreds of commercial products. This has caused increased harvesting, decreasing the abundance of it in its natural habitats. 

Cultivating your own Arnica and developing your own topical remedy is a great way to honor this plant and ensure its continued existence. Arnica grows easily from seed in moist soil with good drainage. 

Violet arrives in many different outfits鈥攊ndigo, yellow, ivory鈥攄elicate five-petaled flowers hinged above heart-shaped leaves. Violet鈥檚 sweet sacred fragrance has found its way to every continent with hundreds of varieties becoming the signatures of ancient cities and influential warriors. 

Its medicinal uses are documented everywhere it thrives and usually include soothing irritated tissue and easing inflammation. Violet鈥檚 leaves are a natural source of salicylic acid, the base ingredient for aspirin. And spring leaves are particularly high in vitamin C. Taken internally, Violet鈥檚 properties activate lymphatic fluids to disband stagnation and alleviate congested tissues. All parts of Violet are useful, flower to leaf to root, and can be eaten fresh or dried and made into tea or syrup. 

Blooms visit mid-spring to early summer. Violet loves a shady, partial-sun space in the garden or in containers and will easily self-sow, coming back each year.

NEXT ISSUE: 鈥淲ildflower Apothecary, Part 2: Fall鈥� will describe how to prepare these seven medicines.

Our summer issue took on one of the most pervasive problems facing our planet today: plastic pollution. We uncovered what happens to exported U.S. plastic waste, how bans on single-use plastics impact working communities, and how the microplastics from our clothing, food, and household objects end up in the ocean. We named the major forces responsible for this problem, highlighted innovative re-uses for the plastic that鈥檚 already on the planet, and shared hopeful visions for a plastic-free future that keeps accessibility at the forefront of the conversation. 

There鈥檚 no question that systemic change is needed to put an end to plastic production and pollution, but tackling a challenge of this scale requires participation at all levels. So we’re thrilled that more than 900 readers joined the 大象传媒 team for July’s Plastic-Free EcoChallenge, cutting back on single-use plastic in their lives, cooking zero-waste meals, and taking action to help others understand plastic’s impact. Online, we asked readers to share the ways they’re fighting for change in their own communities鈥攁苍d heard from 大象传媒 readers across the globe. 

I started a citizen science project called Micro Investigators, where we take primary school kids out to their local rivers and take water samples for microplastics. We then work with high school students to extract the microplastics in the lab, and the results are posted on a citizen science data hub, raising awareness of microplastic pollution across all levels of education and in the community. (Kids are also great at sharing what they learned with their families.) We believe that the key to fighting microplastic pollution is making the invisible visible鈥攂ecause you can鈥檛 care about things you can鈥檛 see, and you can鈥檛 protect the things you don鈥檛 care about.鈥擟hristine L., Invercargill, New Zealand

We 鈥渃onsumers,鈥� homemakers, and individuals are near the end of the plastic production, distribution, and use chain, and I believe the ultimate answer lies at the head of the line. So, I contact my elected officials with the message, 鈥淪upport clean and sustainable energy, not oil and gas, keep fossil fuels in the ground. More and more of your constituents share my convictions.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;But probably most importantly I contact manufacturers! I make telephone calls and send emails. My message is this: 鈥淚 like your product, but your plastic packaging is a deal-breaker for me. And I know that I am not alone in my desire to unsnarl plastics from my life and from our planet. More and more buyers are rejecting plastic packaging.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;I have also contacted packaging manufacturers associations with this message: 鈥淯se your energy and innovation to create packaging that is part of a closed-loop system, plastic-free, recyclable, returnable, compostable. More and more citizens want sustainable methods鈥攇et on board or be left holding the plastic bag.鈥�

I believe that the most powerful leverage lies with the makers of products bought by members of the public. I refuse, re-use, and recycle too, of course, and I will keep up with those practices, but if the stuff keeps coming down the line, I end up feeling overwhelmed like Lucy and Ethel working on the candy conveyer belt. Hey, maybe packaging could be made of chocolate! 鈥擪athleen W., Chardon, Ohio

I made reusable, washable fabric sandwich and snack bags for everyone attending our family reunion. My brother texted that he uses his to keep his cell phone dry when he鈥檚 out gardening on a wet day! 鈥擝eth S., Cincinnati, Ohio

Fall 2020: The Black Lives Issue

Hundreds of you ordered a box of our Black Lives issue to share in your communities, and even more joined 大象传媒 Presents for a virtual panel discussion with Zenobia Jeffries Warfield, Angela Bronner Helm, Michael Harriot, and Jamon Jordan. The impact was far-reaching:

When they say that one man鈥檚 trash is another鈥檚 treasure, believe it! Today during a walk with my children, I stumbled upon a community library and found the Fall 2020 issue of 大象传媒 Upon returning home and settling in, I began to scan the issue. I want to express my gratitude for the stories written in your most recent issue. From the beautiful cover art to the engaging pieces featured in the issue, I was quite simply in awe.

Not to be long-winded but the article on 鈥淢icroaggressions? How to Do Microinterventions鈥� added such perspective and guidance to something that I have dealt with for over 20 years as one of the only Black male English educators in the suburban high school where I am employed. Furthermore, the article, 鈥淣otes on the Inequality of Grief鈥� gave such compassion and succinctness to the immense and constant grieving that BIPOC face when our own are murdered in the streets. I could go on and on about what this issue afforded. However, I just want to say thank you.

Victor Alcindor

South Orange, New Jersey

My biggest takeaway is that I still have a lot to learn, and I鈥檓 inspired to keep learning more on these topics. I really enjoyed hearing Michael Harriot speak at length on the topic of White theft as a basis for reparations. All panelists were knowledgeable, passionate, and compelling speakers. As for a future impact, the information and ideas discussed, as well as that printed in the current issue, have led me to new understanding and studies. Who knows where that will lead me, but I feel better equipped to step forward with such information.

Denver D. Robinson

Portland, Oregon

As a White person, I need to keep educating myself about how to be an effective ally. I鈥檓 sorry to say that I鈥檝e been a passive participant in racism. This panel motivated me to continue to dig into how to do better, and I trust 大象传媒 to give me positive tools for change.

Ginger Danz

Roanoke, Virginia

Our fall issue tackled the existential question that undergirds so many of our current conversations, be they about wealth, food, health, justice, climate, or war and peace: How much is enough? Writers, thought-leaders, and organizers from across movements shared their visions for not only answering this question, but also for how to build a global community where everyone has enough. And we dove even deeper into this topic during a Sept. 9 online discussion with Brother Ch芒n Ph谩p Dung, a Buddhist monk whose lectures on the beauty and joy of simplicity are world-renowned, and authors Stan Cox and Chuck Collins. Nearly 600 people joined. Here is a selection of attendee feedback:   

There鈥檚 a perception that living with less is sacrificial鈥攎any times associated with getting a reward in the afterlife. But another way to look at it is living with less is a better way to live now. Less stress. Less anxiety.鈥�Glenn B., Duluth, Georgia

Capitalism is rooted in 鈥渇ree choice.鈥� We need a global aspiration to use our free choice more wisely. We are in severe ecological overshoot, we cannot afford to continue destabilizing our ecology. We need to embrace minimalist consumption and expectations: Brother Ch芒n Ph谩p Dung can teach us the way forward.鈥擝arbara W., Oxfordshire, England

As a White person who was born, raised, and lives in a rural area, I am deeply questioning the practicality of living here. Although my grandfather was a farmer (and entrepreneur), I am not a farmer or someone who provides food (or other necessities) for our community or the larger citizenry. So I am beginning to feel that moving to a more urban area (not suburban) may help me walk my talk in a better way when it comes to living with 鈥渆nough.鈥� There is so much richness here in what we are all considering.鈥�ayre脕nna a., Jamestown, California

I thoroughly enjoyed your magazine about 鈥渆nough,鈥� but I was struck how the magazine insists on electricity as the energy source, but at the same time, getting rid of fossil fuels. How do you think wind and solar are manufactured and transported? (All the components are mined or transported using fossil fuels, and they are mined or transported to the U.S. or Europe using fossil fuels.) Many of the corporations that function in energy supply now are switching to focusing their attention on solar panels/arrays or wind turbines, which are very energy intensive. We need to focus on local and regional products, seasonal produce, and on human population. And passive solar: buildings facing south, etc. Why aren鈥檛 these things part of the conversation?鈥擬aureen D., Southbridge, Massachusetts   

Ideas on 鈥淭he World We Want鈥澨�

Love the idea听behind this edition. Some of us have been using the word 鈥渆nchantivism鈥� to describe forms of storytelling that might start in breakdown, rupture, or injustice but that lead to more spacious possibilities. If we can鈥檛 imagine them, we can鈥檛 realize them.鈥攃丑补濒辩耻颈蝉迟

The current issue is听so to the point that I want my friends to get it, especially because as a public school educator and public defense attorney articles in this issue directly speak to their concerns and work for social justice.鈥擫arry听

This magazine came just听at a time when I needed it. Highlighting the stories and work of environmental activists of color, the articles are reimagining, with a radical visioning, the world we want鈥his edition was a joy to read and reminded me why I am committed to all the community organizing and activist work that I do! Even when it gets exhausting and overwhelming, we need this reminder of how we get from here to there, and it鈥檚 in community.听鈥擲hirley Manken

This is what听I鈥檝e been waiting for!A fantastic step toward creating and manifesting life-affirming future visions鈥斺�淲hat We Want!鈥� I believe we鈥檙e writing a new mythology that鈥檚 being shaped by uncommon times and the evolution of supernatural beings. I couldn鈥檛 feel more blessed and be more thrilled to be here now. To read this! The more the stories like this are conceived, refined, and told, the more power they gain. Thank you!鈥擝别肠辞尘颈苍驳

I was thinking one way听we could have a better world on the other side of this is if folk took some of this time to work on personal growth as well as growing community. Practice forgiveness and open the heart and we can see real change at a very local level. I have a feeling the universe is giving us an听 opportunity here!鈥擩辞苍

I like the focus听of the Spring issue. I would like to see more articles in that issue on what can be done or what is already being done to make the changes we need to make to get to that 鈥渨orld we want.鈥� We all know where we are and how we got here, what we need to focus on now are the positive, uplifting movements to get us where we need to be.鈥擩颈濒濒颈补苍48

鈥淟anguage of Antiracism鈥� Is a Useful Guide

I have greatly appreciated听the articles focused on building bridges and supporting equity. To be completely honest, it is a subject that makes me sweat. I grew up around people of all colors, nationalities 鈥� but I have come to understand that even that situation whitewashed the diversity rather than really celebrating, honoring, or understanding it. It can feel so overwhelming to even broach the subject, and feels so much easier to ignore it and tell myself there鈥檚 nothing I can do about it. 鈥淭he Language of Antiracism鈥� brought some new ideas to light for me that were able to spawn some good conversations with my partner who has done a lot of participation in and training for DEI. Recently, this allowed me to step in during a group conversation and try to point out that there is no such thing as reverse racism. I was thankful to be able to reference the article, and the individual was open to finding new resources to look at on the matter. Usually I love 大象传媒 for inspiration, but I also love 大象传媒 for helping work on the difficult areas inside myself that I haven鈥檛 been able to yet. 大象传媒 approaches every subject thoroughly and with great heart and compassion. I so greatly appreciate this.鈥擲.M., Oregon

Opening Up to Others鈥� Views

鈥淵es, You Can Change听Someone鈥檚 Mind鈥� got me thinking about how difficult it is to see other peoples鈥� perspectives when you disagree, and that I have to put more energy and effort into bridging that gap.鈥擫aura Myerson, New York

I need the reminder听that it鈥檚 not all about facts. My world view is very similar to that expressed in 大象传媒, so it鈥檚 really helpful to me to see my beliefs and views expressed by others and to have my understanding of these things broadened by the very diverse perspectives brought by the writers and editors.鈥擝ecky P., California

Opportunities in a New Decade听

I would love to explore听how we can help to heal the divisive nature of our current economic and political cultures. Where people are respectful and listen to other points of view so that we can come together and work to create meaningful change. It鈥檚 time to end the debates, the bickering and stalemates. We need to start acting on the issues that are causing so much suffering.听鈥掷耻蝉补苍

I have been asking people听what is your transition plan? And have you calculated your carbon footprint/personal consumption and consumption of resources on a finite planet? And, of course, can I help? Transportation and heating (I live in a northern climate) are the 鈥渓ow hanging fruit鈥� and biggest energy hogs.听鈥擭ancy Kellogg

How Is Your Community Responding to COVID-19?

We are听meeting the needs听of each other. We purchased dinners for truckers passing through our small town and delivered them safely. I heard that many of their favorite restaurants had closed. It didn鈥檛 take much to gather more support and healthy meals were provided for people who do a tough job and are often working double shifts.听鈥掷辫谤颈苍驳蹿颈别濒诲痴补濒

I live in a rural area听where the usual news of hot spots in dense urban areas doesn鈥檛 match the reality of our community. But we are staying in touch by phone, texts, and some visits where we practice at least 3 feet away. Local stores which are open have designated 6 foot distances, e.g. pharmacies, groceries and home improvement stores. I鈥檓 sure these are corporate decisions. I see my grandkids by meeting outside. Personally, I鈥檓 following Merlin鈥檚 advice to Arthur when you are depressed (now by social isolation) by learning something new. Something we can all do and I recommend.鈥攎产锄颈尘尘别谤

A neighbor friend and I,听with my family, have been spending every Sunday cleaning up the creek behind our community and have gathered over 12 garbage bags full of trash. My 4-year-old had such a great time. It was so good to see her spirit of adventure and independence return.鈥攌诲别蝉补颈1

Thanks much for this听article (鈥淐ommunity Solidarity Through Homemade Face Masks鈥�)听 and particularly for articulating so clearly and poetically, 鈥淲earing a mask when you need to be out of your house is an act of community solidarity, showing people around you that you care about protecting them as much as keeping yourself protected. And it鈥檚 an empowering chance to exercise creativity and personality during a time of uncertainty.鈥� We鈥檙e sharing it (w/ credit, of course!) in our community service pitch to face-cover makers.鈥�seladore

EXCERPTS FROM: 

Conversations in the 大象传媒 community.

Join the conversation about this issue at yesmagazine.org/summer2020

Or email us at letters@yesmagazine.org

Winter 2021: 

What the Rest of the World Knows

The Better Ideas issue sparked conversations about potential solutions to some of the ongoing challenges facing the United States, from our economy to our disconnected relationship with nature to long overdue calls for racial justice, truth, and reconciliation. Some readers rightly pointed out that there is no quick fix to many of these ills鈥攁苍d no single solution can be transferred wholesale from one unique country to another. Others found in our issue introductions to novel concepts and ways of being that yield vastly different results from what we have become accustomed to stateside. 

鈥淭hanks for identifying these amazing places to invest our energy and attention for social change!鈥� Wally Graeber wrote on Instagram, commenting on 鈥�11 Better Ideas for a Country in Need of Change.鈥� 

On Facebook, Kelsie Pink found Mark P. Fancher鈥檚 article 鈥淲here Incarceration Isn鈥檛 the Answer鈥� to be insightful. 鈥淩eally good, in-depth article,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚 was blown away by some of the stats and very interested in how other countries do approach this in a way that still treats people like humans. Especially the part about restorative justice!鈥� 

While sharing our 鈥�11 Better Ideas鈥� article on Facebook, Claudia Jimenez added some kind words: 鈥淥ne of my sources of hope these days is 大象传媒 Magazine. It reminds me that there are pockets of possibility all over the world. It takes work. I probably won鈥檛 see it in my lifetime. 鈥� And I am encouraged to know many people are working together to make it happen. Yes!鈥�

As 2020 came to an end, 大象传媒 readers closed out a difficult year in truly inspiring fashion. Supporters not only helped us surpass our year-end fundraising goal, but also flooded our inboxes and mailboxes with heartfelt messages of appreciation for the labor of love that goes into each new issue, each article we publish, and each email we send or phone call we make. We鈥檙e fortunate to have such generous, dedicated readers, and we hope these messages spark hope for what鈥檚 to come in 2021, as they did for our staff.

鈥淭hank you for your ongoing efforts to provide superb, inclusive reporting on topics of interest to so many, most definitely including me.鈥�鈥擱obin Woodward

鈥淢y experience of this year would be so totally different if I hadn鈥檛 found 大象传媒 and opened my mind to all the possibilities out there. I don鈥檛 always have the time to read the newsletter every day, but when I do it is so uplifting and stimulates the imagination. Tunes me toward how can I help instead of how helpless I feel.鈥�&苍产蝉辫; 鈥擟arlotta Hayes

鈥淭he editorial staff seems to present a more diverse viewpoint, and the magazine seems more focused, rather than a simply feel-good read of stories that seem hard to envision as reality. Keep up the change, it鈥檚 so exciting! Thanks for your dedication and skill.鈥�鈥擡llen Laverdure 

鈥淚 always read the headline, and start reading the article and think that I know exactly where it is going, and what they are going to say, and I鈥檓 always wrong and it is so surprising and refreshing!鈥�鈥擪atherine Madrone Moulton 

鈥淭he work that you do with 大象传媒 Magazine is incredibly timely, pertinent, and a source of fresh knowledge and perspective. 鈥� The combination of intellect and heart that goes into each and every issue is astounding to me. Please let everyone there know how much their work matters.鈥�鈥擡llen R. 

MaryEllen Wilson

Kansas City, Missouri

What brought you to 大象传媒?

I first found 大象传媒 Magazine in the break room at Kansas City Hospice where (until COVID-19) I volunteered. I read them cover to cover, then helped myself to the subscription page! I still read each issue cover to cover and learn so much I didn鈥檛 know. 

What are your passions?

Alongside my day job as an 鈥渙ffice mommy鈥� (my term for administrative assistant), I鈥檝e long volunteered in community theater. I started at the Southern Renaissance Faire in San Bernardino, California, where I worked for a hat maker and eventually became booth manager. Since then I鈥檝e done props and stage managing for different theater companies, and worked as a stitcher, a fitter, an 鈥渁lterationer,鈥� and a dresser to female leads. When I moved from California to Kansas City, I began volunteering with hospice to pay back the extraordinary care my sister and mother received at the end of their lives.

How does 大象传媒 support your values? 

I believe in the equality of all people. We are all one and if we don鈥檛 learn to live together, and value each other, and deal with the climate crisis, we will not have a planet to live on or communities to live in.  (And I don鈥檛 think most of us could afford Elon Musk鈥檚 space travel!) I have long been aware that the history we learned in school is not the real history of the world, and I appreciate that 大象传媒 speaks to those greater, deeper truths.

Why do you support 大象传媒 as a monthly donor?

I became a monthly donor because 大象传媒 does great work presenting the problems we need to face and offers information and solutions on how to deal with them. I want to support that work. I also knew that some of my friends would enjoy the magazine, and I wanted to use my free gift subscriptions to share it with them because I believe the ideas we read about in 大象传媒 need to spread. I love it when they tell me how much they appreciate it!

Kathleen Macferran

Menomonie, Wisconsin

What are your passions?

I鈥檓 passionate about helping organizations work collaboratively to create environments in which everyone thrives. I鈥檓 especially focused on the justice system and transforming conflict in ways that bring about reparation and restoration.

We need our prisons to be houses of healing, not places of punishment. We need a system in which people have the support they need at the first signs of conflict to restore relationships and meet people鈥檚 underlying needs. We can create this! Communities have generations of wisdom and skills from many traditions to reduce conflict and repair relationships when harm has been done. We can help communities engage compassionately with conflict and find justice through shared understanding and responsibility, and mutually agreed upon action.

What have you seen in your international work that the U.S. can learn from?

What I see in most countries I visit is the understanding that we are all interdependent, and that solutions that benefit the few also benefit the many. For example, if one person is sick, we are all potentially at risk. So developing health care systems where everyone has access to care benefits everyone. I hope the U.S. can move in that direction.

Why do you support 大象传媒 as a member of the Founders鈥� Circle?

大象传媒 gives me practical ideas. It inspires me and gives me hope. It reframes what is possible. And it makes visible our interdependence, which is key to our survival. Honestly, supporting 大象传媒 is one of the most effective ways I can use my resources to promote the world I want.

I hope you鈥檒l join me!

What are your passions?

I am a rabid locavore. I love feeding people and educating them about organic food and restorative/regenerative agriculture. These two essential practices help heal our bodies while returning our precious Gaia to a vibrant, constantly renewing state.

Why 大象传媒?

Because as the world goes more mad, I feel it鈥檚 critical to support the real news鈥攚丑颈肠丑 is that so much good is happening. 大象传媒 counters the toxicity and despair people suffer when they鈥檙e uninformed about the miraculous solutions that are unfolding.

I appreciate that 大象传媒 addresses tough issues that lesser publications shy away from. And I love learning about small organizations and individuals doing big work in their communities. It inspires me and gives me courage to press on!

Why do you belong to the Founders鈥� Circle?

If we want to transform the broken systems that cause so much ill in the world, we need to put our money where our mouths are. It is critical to support and empower REAL change. 大象传媒 stories show us that genuine, transformative change is possible, and that ordinary people can bring it about. My longing is to help get those stories to the world so this invaluable knowledge can spread.

And I super appreciate being liberated from pages of advertising!

Ravi Ravichandran was volunteering at a Mother Earth News Fair eight years ago when he noticed the 大象传媒 booth right across the way. After sampling a few stories, he became a subscriber. 鈥淚 usually don鈥檛 subscribe to magazines,鈥� he says, 鈥渂ut the content was so meaningful and compelling that I made an exception!鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

What kind of work and/or volunteering do you do?

I started an orchard from bare land on Hawai鈥榠鈥檚 Big Island in 2017. After four years of hard work, we are supplying bananas to local grocery stores and farmers markets. We measure our success along three dimensions: community contributions, enhancing the environment, and being financially profitable. We鈥檙e still working on that third dimension!

To support my family and the farm I recently began a full-time job with the Hawai鈥榠 Police Department managing information technology. Contributing my skills to help the men and women who put their lives on the line every day is another form of community service for me and is immensely satisfying. 

What are your passions?

I am someone who dives into something and gives it more than 100% attention until I become good at it. Competitive Scrabble, competitive bridge, mountaineering, flute playing, reading books, and exploring spirituality from all around the world are areas where I have done that. Now, in addition to my farm, music, meditation, and mentoring young people are important to me. 

How does 大象传媒 support your values and your work to build a better world?

Media, especially social media, is very good at getting us to react. Making us reflect and gain different perspectives is much harder. This is what 大象传媒 is good at. 

For me, caring for the environment, building resilient communities, and supporting my local economy are very important. 大象传媒 helps me reflect on the work I do and see how I can do it differently or better. 

Why do you support 大象传媒 at the Founders鈥� Circle level?

Longevity of this work is important to me, not just for my lifetime but for generations to come. And I know that supporting this work takes many hands.

If you believe in the longevity of the ideas expressed in 大象传媒 and you are capable of helping, inaction will be a wasted opportunity for everyone. Let us all make the necessary investment toward making this world fairer, more just, and a joyful place to live! Each of us can make a difference.

I feel so strongly about this that I will match the donations of 10 new Founders鈥� Circle members!

David Markham recently bought six boxes鈥�300 copies鈥攐f 大象传媒 Magazine to give away. That caught our attention! What did he plan to do with so many copies? It turns out David鈥檚 been giving away 大象传媒 issues for years. When he learned he could buy whole boxes of back issues, he saw a chance to expand his 鈥渟eeding鈥� project.

Why do you give away 大象传媒 issues?

To spread good news! So much good is being done in the world but most of what we see in the media is negative. 大象传媒 is different and deserves broader exposure. 

I fancy myself the Johnny Appleseed of positive journalism.

What prompted that?

I am a psychiatric social worker in private practice. People come to see me who are anxious and depressed. Many have lost a sense of meaning and purpose in their lives. When their symptoms start to lift, I ask if they鈥檝e thought of volunteering. Most draw a blank. 

With 大象传媒 I can say, 鈥淢aybe you鈥檇 want to check out this magazine. There are a lot of good ideas in here about how we can make the world a better place by working together.鈥� It allows me to move beyond pie-in-the-sky psychobabble and give them real-life examples of how people are finding meaning and purpose in their lives by working with others in practical and concrete ways. 

How will you distribute 300 copies? 

I鈥檓 leaving copies in my local coffee shop, putting them in Little Free Libraries, putting them in office waiting rooms, giving them to people who might be interested in the topic covered in that issue. I鈥檓 making it up as I go!

Why do you support 大象传媒 as a monthly donor?

I see 大象传媒 Magazine on the cutting edge of human evolution鈥攆acilitating the development of a more positive world through mutual problem solving and by lifting up great ideas at the local level. The world needs that work and that vision. I want to help however I can.   

You might even want to start 鈥渟eeding鈥� 大象传媒 Magazine throughout your world.

Who Will Carry on Your Values?

Throughout your life you鈥檝e worked to make this world better鈥攁 world where all people live in dignity and Earth鈥檚 vitality is preserved for generations to come. That鈥檚 the world you want to leave for our children and grandchildren.

There鈥檚 much to be done to bring about that world. Who will carry your work into the future?

One of the best ways to make sure your work continues is to include 大象传媒 in your estate plan. By making a Legacy gift, you鈥檒l ensure that 大象传媒 inspires people long into the future, and that others continue to build the world you鈥檝e worked so hard to achieve.

You don鈥檛 need to be wealthy. You don鈥檛 need to write a check now. Just let me know that you鈥檇 like more information about joining our 大象传媒 Legacy Circle.

You can contact me at rsimons@yesmagazine.org or 206-842-0216 ext. 203, or go to yesmagazine.org/legacy.

Robin Simons, 大象传媒 Development Manager

What are your passions?

Connection, empathy, creativity.

I鈥檝e especially been finding joy in community organizing with people younger than me. The Jewish concept of the longed-for 鈥渨orld to come鈥� can actually be translated from the Hebrew as 鈥渢he world that is coming鈥濃�� present tense, continuous. What that means to me is that the heart-opening relationships that we cultivate in the process of doing the work of justice are a real experience in the present of the world we are striving for in the future.

Why do you belong to the Founders鈥� Circle?

大象传媒 is like a battery recharge for the soul.

I love hearing from fresh, creative voices about local work that is really making a difference. I love the photos of all the beautiful people in and behind the stories. And I love sharing extra copies of 大象传媒 with my young activist friends. We have gotten ideas, inspiration, and connections through 大象传媒 and its amazing editorial staff.

It is so vital to support the work of 大象传媒 right now, and to find ways to amplify its voice. I consider it an investment with benefits that ripple out in all directions.

Download a printable version of the page here.

I鈥檓 filled with many emotions as I write the letter for this issue, as it is my last to you. By the time you read it, I鈥檒l no longer be at 大象传媒 The decision to leave was not an easy one to make, but all things considered, it was the best decision for the journey I have ahead. What that is exactly, I don鈥檛 know. However, I鈥檓 making myself available to the unfolding. 

It鈥檚 apropos then that this issue is 鈥淭he Personal Journeys Issue.鈥� It鈥檚 been a long time coming. 

As you know, 大象传媒 just , reporting on communities organizing to solve problems created by the extractive and exploitative systems and institutions that govern us. And as you have been inspired by many of these stories, for years, many of you have responded to them with questions of 鈥淵es! But how do I 鈥� ?鈥� Or 鈥淲hat can I do about 鈥� ?鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This issue doesn鈥檛 answer those questions exactly, meaning the stories don鈥檛 tell you what to do or how you can do it. They do, however, share the personal journeys of others, which include the challenges and obstacles they鈥檝e faced, the mistakes they鈥檝e made, and sometimes the harm they鈥檝e caused or harm that has been done to them on their journeys to becoming. 

One of the things you鈥檒l learn through their stories is that your work starts with you. 

In this issue you鈥檒l read work by authors who are modeling change to shift global consciousness, rediscovering themselves in nature, writing prison reform legislation while still incarcerated, and those who grew from rage to mindfulness and learned about building community from bees. You鈥檒l also learn about the four pivots to social change, healing generational trauma, and how vulnerability creates change. 

Since I鈥檝e been leading 大象传媒 Magazine, we鈥檝e included a Reflection Page for you to jot down your takeaways from the issue: what gives you hope, what you鈥檙e inspired by, good ideas you can use, and what you can do based on that inspiration and those ideas. I hope that, at least for this issue, you begin your reflecting on this page and continue beyond it, to guide yourself into your next steps on your own personal journey.

Your change is imperative to how we move forward together toward transforming this world into one where we see each other and respect each other, so that we can work together collectively toward building a more equitable, compassionate world. 

Peace, 

Zenobia Jeffries Warfield, 大象传媒 executive editor

Feature photo: Tanya Taylor, the producer of the documentary Black in Mayberry, stands tall on the roof of the El Segundo Museum of Art, where her film, which documents the stories of Black Lives Matter protesters in her small California town, premiered in May 2021. The week before the show, Taylor received an anonymous bomb threat. The FBI opened an investigation and local police provided plainclothes officers for additional security. The museum went on with the show. Read more about Taylor and others who found their role in movements by witnessing them in the article 鈥淲hen Witnessing Becomes Activism鈥� by Kelly Clancy at . Photo by Lee Tonks.