I was incarcerated for more than eight years in Florida. I鈥檝e been free for 18 months and just recently got the bug to vote again. Problem was, I didn鈥檛 know if I was eligible to register. I wasn鈥檛 debriefed on the matter when I left prison, and I鈥檇 heard different things from different people. Some said: 鈥淔elons can鈥檛 vote in Florida. Ever.鈥� While others claimed: 鈥淵ou can vote as long as you鈥檙e done with your sentence.鈥澨�

I needed guidance. And clearly I wasn鈥檛 the only one.  

A new proposal by the Florida Division of Elections seeks to end confusion around restoration of voting rights. If passed, the update to its existing advisory opinion process would provide people with felony convictions the chance to request a formal opinion stating definitively whether their voting rights have been restored. In so doing, it will clarify a complicated state statute that governs the process of reinstating voting rights for formerly incarcerated people. 

鈥淲e wanted to figure out a simple question: Whose job is it to determine voter eligibility?鈥� Desmond Meade, executive director of the Florida Rights Restoration Coalition, told Spectrum News 13 in August in support of the proposal. 

Confusion Over the Law

The state statute in question, SS 98.0751, dictates that for all crimes other than murder or sex offenses, restoration of voting rights is contingent upon sentence completion, including parole or probation and the satisfaction of all court-ordered fines and fees. People convicted of murder or sex offenses must seek additional permission in the form of clemency from a state-appointed board.

But this alone doesn鈥檛 definitively answer the question of eligibility. Many people are not even aware of all the fines they owe post-incarceration, let alone the offense-specific guidelines laid out in the statute.   

Meade said the proposed process, including a special form, would affirmatively address these issues. He added, 鈥淭he other thing, which I think is huge, is that it provides protection for people against鈥� being arrested for voter fraud. 

Forty-one formerly incarcerated people were arrested in 2022 and 2023 for voter fraud in Florida, according to Southern Poverty Law Center. At least some of them had attempted to vote based on honest misunderstandings of the state statute鈥攜et their prosecutions proceeded. 

In response, some critics charged that Gov. Ron DeSantis and state Republicans were deliberately suppressing the voting rights of felons. 

鈥淚nstead of fulfilling its role to enable Floridians to vote, the state has made it more difficult, which is anti-democratic,鈥� said Courtney O鈥橠onnell, a senior staff attorney for voting rights with the Southern Poverty Law Center, in an article posted on the group鈥檚 site.

Florida does indeed make it hard for felons to vote. A 2023 fact sheet by The Sentencing Project states that Florida disenfranchises nearly 1.5 million people with felony convictions, more than any other state in the nation.

A History of Controversy

The latest saga in the battle over felony disenfranchisement in Florida began heating up in 2018. 

That鈥檚 the year voters in the state approved Amendment 4, which automatically restored voting rights to anyone with felony convictions鈥攎inus those convicted of murder or sex offenses鈥攗pon release from prison. DeSantis opposed the measure. Not even a year later, thanks to legislative support by his fellow Republicans, DeSantis signed SS 98.0751 into law.   

Legal battles ensued. Opponents of the bill, including the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), said it effectively instituted a 鈥減oll tax,鈥� whereby only those who could pay could vote, echoing similar attempts from the Jim Crow era. 

DeSantis said the measure was a safeguard against giving 鈥渧iolent felons鈥� certain societal benefits 鈥渨ithout regard to the wishes of the victims.鈥�&苍产蝉辫; 

Ultimately, the fight reached the U.S. Supreme Court, which in 2020 decided against intervening in a lower-court ruling that upheld the new law. In a dissent joined by Justices Elena Kagan and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote that the law 鈥減revents thousands of otherwise eligible voters from participating in Florida鈥檚 primary election simply because they are poor.鈥�

Moving Forward

SS 98.0751 is the law of the land for the foreseeable future. In my case, once I did my homework, the registration process ultimately went smoothly. However, I credit this to my relative privilege in being resourceful enough to conduct such research and pay my fines, coupled with my not being convicted of murder or a sex crime.  Sadly, many others aren鈥檛 so lucky.   

The special opinion process proposed by the Florida Department of Elections is not expected to go into effect before the Oct. 7 deadline to register to vote in the fall election, according to CBS News Miami. 

For more information on voting in Florida, visit the website of the supervisor of elections in your county or. You can also review this听听from the ACLU of Florida.

When in April 2024, Barrymore referenced that nickname. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a great segue to say that I keep thinking in my head that we all need a mom,鈥� Barrymore said. 鈥淚鈥檝e been thinking that we really all need a tremendous hug in the world right now. But in our country, we need you to be 鈥楳omala鈥� of the country.鈥�

I thought a lot about that moment while watching Harris debate former President Donald Trump in September. At the start of the debate, before shaking Harris鈥� hand, which continued throughout the night. Harris was poised, standing firmly on her policies, while Trump struggled to directly answer questions and made and poor Americans.

As Trump made silly faces and referred to Harris as 鈥渢his one鈥� instead of her name and title, I was reminded of the ways Black people, especially Black women, have long been called upon to be the adults in the room. Thanks to both and , Black people are required to be above reproach, emotionless, and with a heightened understanding of the feelings of white Americans. In many ways, Harris had to embody the role of 鈥淢omala鈥� during the debate to assuage the fears of fragile white Americans, and some Americans of color, who were looking for her to be well-behaved, respectable, and unrattled.

Despite Trump鈥檚 overt disrespect and disregard for Harris鈥� station, many voters in the United States were interested in how Harris handled his childishness, his antics, his attacks, and his reactions, rather than judging her debate performance based on her expertise and preparedness for the role.

As I write in , Black women who seek political office are often expected to be hypermasculine superheroes with the ability to save white Americans from problems they themselves have created. These expectations play into the stereotype of the unsexed, unattractive, obsequious mammy, whose only desire is to care for white families, nurse white children, and relieve white women of their household duties. When Barrymore asked Harris to mother the country, that is the stereotype she was referencing鈥攁nd that鈥檚 what white Americans hoped to see at the debate.

This isn鈥檛 the first time we鈥檝e witnessed a Black presidential candidate withhold their emotions during a debate while their white male opponent displayed uncontrollable bouts of anger. When then Senator Barack Obama debated the late Senator John McCain in 2008, I distinctly remember McCain referring to Obama as 鈥溾�� and refusing to make eye contact with his opponent.

It鈥檚 a level of disrespect seemingly only tolerable when it鈥檚 exhibited by white men. But these behaviors are deeply rooted in anti-Blackness and the belief that Black Americans do not deserve the same level of regard and honor white Americans receive. We call that white supremacy.

And yet, in the face of impossible expectations, Harris managed to be pensive, thoughtful, clever, funny, and above her opponent鈥檚 demeaning critiques of her as a person. Regardless of your opinions of Harris, there are many people who will find safety and solace in her embodying the role of the country鈥檚 mammy, and they will care more about her performance of this insidious stereotype than anything she said on that debate stage.

But if we ever want to move past a political imagination limited to gender binaries and racial hierarchies, we must hope for more from anyone who stands to represent us. As such, it鈥檚 likely that those of us who believe in the fullness of Blackness and Black life have largely been left under-satisfied by Harris鈥� approach to this campaign.

Being white America鈥檚 鈥淢omala鈥� may win Harris the presidential race. It might even win her reelection in 2028. But it won鈥檛 challenge the expectations of those who see Black women as caricatures and reflections of their darkest fantasies. Being white America鈥檚 鈥淢omala鈥� won鈥檛 get us any closer to freedom鈥攁nd it certainly won鈥檛 pave the way for the radical liberationist politics we need at this moment and moving forward.

Throughout the book, Giovale faces the dark truths about her European ancestors and pushes through to see an opportunity to create a new way of being and thinking. She explores and acknowledges the atrocities committed by her European ancestors toward Indigenous peoples, the impacts on her own identity as a white person, and the systemic perpetuation of this violence. In doing so, she creates a blueprint for European-descended people living in America to examine their own role in white supremacy鈥攁nd to heal. 

Read an excerpt from Becoming a Good Relative here.

By embarking on a journey of rekindling ancestral memories, Giovale uncovers the hidden stories and legacies of her own lineage鈥攅ven those that involve the perpetration of harm or complicity in injustice. She dives deep into the historical context that led her Irish ancestors to emigrate to the United States, including the British settlement of Ireland in the 1600s and its deliberate attack on Irish culture and systems of governance as a means to dissolve communities from within. Generations later, British rule exacerbated the already catastrophic Irish potato blight, resulting in mass forced migration to the U.S., where Irish immigrants were labeled dirty and dangerous. This was the inflection point where Irish immigrants assimilated to American whiteness, leaving behind cultural traditions and practices that connected them to their heritage. That assimilation also required the once-othered Irish to participate in and perpetuate harm and violence toward other U.S. communities deemed 鈥渘on-white.鈥�

Ancestral aversion is a common experience鈥攖he urge to sever ties with the parts of ourselves that relate to painful histories. Yet Giovale urges her white peers to examine their own lineage as a way to build empathy and compassion for their ancestors. While she does not excuse or justify the harms of her ancestors, Giovale shares a road map for forgiveness, a critical first step in creating a personal reparations plan. This process of exploring ancestral narratives can create healing across generations and enable a deeper understanding of how historical traumas continue to impact individuals and societies today.

Giovale鈥檚 depiction of her family鈥檚 history draws not-so-subtle connections to other Indigenous peoples whose worlds have been destroyed time and time again by European colonizers. It also brings to mind the harmful narratives currently being perpetuated about migrants crossing our Southern border. This parallel is critical and has the power to catalyze healing on a tremendous scale. 

We need more white relatives to face their own truth, though doing so may bring immense discomfort. As we see on Giovale鈥檚 journey, it is only through this initial discomfort that she is able to achieve true growth, ultimately uncovering her own cultures and ancestral practices that have been tragically lost through colonization. It is optional for white folks to investigate their whiteness, and that itself is a privilege. Giovale acknowledges that it was many years into her own life until she was confronted by her whiteness, her ancestry, and her own role in white supremacy. 

In a time when division is the air we breathe, Giovale offers our white relatives an opportunity to stop the cycle of extraction, exploitation, and control, and embrace a worldview of human interconnectivity and mutual thriving. This is especially powerful for European-descended individuals who also have ancestors with Earth-based traditions and beliefs, whose ways of being were destroyed through the same colonialist mindsets that created the environment we live in today.  

Giovale鈥檚 story reminds us that discomfort begets connection. Her encounters with Indigenous people from around the world, and her exploration of how their practices can be applied to her own life and lineage, illuminate our commonalities鈥攁nd our relatedness. Her journey, and this book, demonstrates a deep truth: All our suffering is mutual鈥攁nd so is our healing.

But as we face the prospect of another potential Trump presidency, the architects of Project 2025 have made it clear that overturning Roe was just the first in a multistep plan to eradicate access to safe abortion. Though the Republican Party removed a federal abortion ban from its official party platform, there鈥檚 something more sinister that鈥檚 been hiding in plain sight for 150 years.

, signed into law in 1873, made it a federal offense to disseminate contraceptives, abortifacients, and information about either across state lines or through the mail. Named after Anthony Comstock, an anti-obscenity crusader who inspired the title of the biographical book , the Comstock Law had far-reaching tentacles. Even married couples who used contraception could be sentenced to up to one year in prison.

Over time, various challenges to the Comstock Act, including in 1936, which made it possible for physicians to distribute contraception across state lines; in 1964, which established the constitutional right to contraception; and, of course, in 1973, essentially made it unenforceable. However, the law was never repealed and has instead become a 鈥渮ombie law,鈥� a term used to describe laws still on the books that have been overruled by other legal cases. Take, for instance, Arizona鈥檚 1864 abortion ban, a zombie law that became legally viable after the Supreme Court struck down Roe v. Wade. Though , it still remained on the books long enough to instill fear in those .

Now, after the fall of Roe, Project 2025 plans to revive the zombie Comstock Act and make it workable. Since it鈥檚 already on the books, Congress isn鈥檛 required to pass the Comstock Act. Instead, a president and appointed judges can choose whether to enforce it. Project 2025 architects hope that, if given another term, Trump will do just that.

A Significant Threat to Abortion

in the U.S. Since Roe fell in June 2022, every single time the issue has been on the ballot, even in traditionally conservative states like Kansas, Montana, and Ohio. While a national abortion ban could threaten congressional seats for Republicans, it would also require control of both houses of Congress and the executive branch, a higher threshold than simply winning the presidency. So, it seems, the architects of Project 2025 have developed a workaround to meet their aims.

After Roe was overturned, issued guidance about whether the Comstock Act could be used to criminalize someone who receives mifepristone and misoprostol through the United States Postal Service. 鈥淲e conclude that section 1461 does not prohibit the mailing, or the delivery or receipt by mail, of mifepristone or misoprostol where the sender lacks the intent that the recipient of the drugs will use them unlawfully,鈥� the memorandum opinion states. 鈥淔ederal law does not prohibit the use of mifepristone and misoprostol,鈥� the memorandum continues. 鈥淚ndeed, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (鈥楩DA鈥�) has determined the use of mifepristone in a regimen with misoprostol to be safe and effective for the medical termination of early pregnancy.鈥�

But under a Trump presidency, the DOJ would likely have a different view, especially since Project 2025 explicitly calls for 鈥渁gainst providers and distributors of [abortion] pills.鈥�

Additionally, the spate of radical, far-right judges Trump appointed during his first term have already proven their willingness to to curb access to abortion. In 2023, , who has deep ties to the anti-abortion movement, defied court precedent to suspend the approval of mifepristone. 鈥淭he Court does not second-guess FDA鈥檚 decision-making lightly,鈥� he wrote in his decision. 鈥淏ut here, FDA acquiesced on its legitimate safety concerns鈥攊n violation of its statutory duty鈥攂ased on plainly unsound reasoning and studies that did not support its conclusions.鈥�

If Trump is able to appoint even more partisan judges like Kacsmaryk to the federal bench, it鈥檚 possible they would use the Comstock Act to criminalize folks sending or receiving mifepristone and misoprostol (or even information about it) through the mail. 鈥淚f the Comstock [Act] were enforced, it would seriously impact the work we do,鈥� says Sneha S. Nair, partnerships coordinator at , a collection of online platforms that provides abortion and contraception information and services. 鈥淲e rely on digital platforms to share [sexual and reproductive health] content worldwide, and restrictions like the Comstock [Act] could lead to significant censorship and suppression of vital information.鈥�

But even the threat of Comstock being enforced is concerning for abortion advocates and providers. 鈥淲hat people believe the law to be is just as important, if not more so, than what the law actually is,鈥� says Farah Diaz-Tello, senior counsel and legal director at , a legal organization that aims to transform the policy landscape to make reproductive justice a reality. 鈥淲hen people have to second-guess what their options are and they just know that there鈥檚 a sort of vague and looming fear of criminalization 鈥� that is not a risk that everybody has the privilege to tolerate.鈥�

For Black and Brown people, who have already for pregnancy outcomes, even the threat of an enforceable Comstock Law could be enough of a deterrent to prevent them from seeking necessary care.

Refusing to Be Silent

While Project 2025鈥檚 architects may be banking on the Comstock Act, they will have to contend with a network of providers and advocates refusing to put the genie back in the draconian bottle. For example, 鈥檚 post-Dobbs campaign, 鈥�,鈥� promotes information about and access to medication abortion online.

Similarly, the , a DIY medical collective, has literally turned into medication abortion. Embedded in the cards are three doses of misoprostol, which can be used on its own to induce an abortion, and since it鈥檚 a paper card, the pills are harder to detect.

Others believe the best way to combat Project 2025鈥檚 insidious ploy to use the Comstock Act as a backdoor abortion ban is to refuse to be cowed into silence about the revolutionary power of being able to terminate a pregnancy in your own home.

Today, the in the U.S. are induced through medication, most often a combination of the drugs mifepristone and misoprostol. Telehealth for abortion care, in which a provider virtually prescribes these drugs to patients, has become , even in states with abortion bans.

鈥淭he number of people served through telehealth has just grown exponentially since the pandemic,鈥� says Elisa Wells, co-founder and co-director of , which promotes access to medication abortion online. 鈥淸When people find out] that you can get an abortion by the mail, which is a really new idea 鈥� they think, 鈥榃ow, that鈥檚 amazing!鈥欌��

Research from the revealed that in the second half of 2023, more than 40,000 people in states that restrict telehealth or ban abortion were able to receive medication abortion from providers in that protect providers from being criminalized. Plan C鈥檚 website traffic has surged since Dobbs; Wells says they now receive approximately 2 million visitors annually.

There鈥檚 also the option of self-managing abortion with abortion pills. For people in states with severe restrictions or bans, self-managed medical abortion with pills has become an option for many who otherwise wouldn鈥檛 have access to abortion care. Plan C, for example, showcases many sites that prescribe and mail medication abortion to folks directly, including and .

There is a vast digital ecosystem of medication abortion information and services that abortion seekers can have mailed right to their door鈥攗nless Project 2025 goes into effect.

鈥溾�嬧�媁hat we are most concerned about is that people have access to accurate information about how to get the pills, how to use the pills, and the fact that in some states there might be legal risks associated with using the pills,鈥� says Wells. 鈥淓very day is a risk assessment, and people can make good decisions about their lives. It鈥檚 not for me to say about somebody else鈥檚 life. What鈥檚 the best choice for you?鈥�

And while an overabundance of water is a major threat to the Netherlands, the even greater threat for the country is actually a lack of it. 鈥淭he concept of droughts in the Netherlands is new to most people,鈥� explains Frank van Gaalen, a researcher with the Netherlands Environmental Assessment Agency (PBL). 鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 match the image of the Netherlands as a country that lies, for a large part, beneath sea level, is surrounded by sea, and contains rivers, lakes, canals, and ditches.鈥�

When van Gaalen published a report that pointed out the danger of droughts this year, people鈥攅ven locally鈥攔eacted with 鈥渁mazement and disbelief.鈥�

Having too little water and having too much share a common cause: climate change. 鈥淲e know that climate change is already happening and will continue. The way we are dealing with water in the Netherlands will have to take all these threats into consideration together,鈥� van Gaalen says.听

So while leaders work to combat both floods and droughts, they also have to consider the fact that the land itself is sinking鈥攁 process called subsidence. And some researchers are pointing out that the measures the government has been implementing against floods are insufficient and overly reliant on technological solutions, such as dikes. 

鈥淚f we keep on increasing our coastal protection only with grey structures鈥攆or example, a concrete dike鈥攕ubsidence behind the dike will continue and sea level will rise,鈥� says Marte Stoorvogel, a researcher at Royal Netherlands Institute for Sea Research (NIOZ). 鈥淎t some point you鈥檙e creating some kind of situation where when it goes wrong, it will go really badly wrong.鈥澨�

For the last 20 years or so, various Dutch initiatives have tried to tackle the problem. For example, the Amsterdam district of IJburg is known for its floating houses that move with the rise and fall of a lake called IJmeer. Since the severe river floods of 1993 and 1995, the government introduced a new approach, a project called Ruimte voor de Rivier ), which tries to give back swaths of land to previously regulated rivers, letting them meander, and even overflow as necessary. Dunes are also getting more attention, not just as beautiful nature preserves, but also as dynamic, biodiverse areas that can offer an additional buffer against the effects of climate change.

The sustainable solutions that Stoorvogel and her team are working on envision a transition zone that incorporates both water and land. The work also includes making sure people in the Netherlands don鈥檛 only see the sea as a threat. 

鈥淚nstead of keeping the boundary between sea and land very sharp, we need to start incorporating the sea more into our landscape,鈥� she says. 

A More Spiritual Solution

For Stoorvogel, inspiration to solve this issue came from an unlikely source: a powerful but little-known goddess called Nehalennia. While the goddess was worshiped in the Netherlands in pre-Christian times, Stoorvogel is now hoping to introduce her to more of the modern Dutch population as a way to 鈥渞econnect with the water in a spiritual way and see also the beauty in it.鈥�

Nehalennia鈥攇oddess of the sea, as well as fertility and rebirth鈥攑lays an important role in Dutch neopaganism today. According to Hanneke Minkjan, an independent researcher who wrote her , Nehalennia was declared the most important female deity in the Netherlands during the 2006 Goddess Conference, despite the fact that not much was known about her.听

鈥淧eople immediately embraced the scarce evidence because they had something tangible, something that was really there,鈥� explains Peter Versteeg, a cultural anthropologist at the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam who specializes in neopaganism and religion. 鈥淪he was a goddess of seafarers and travelers, and her altar was found in the sea. I can imagine that this has been very inspiring to a lot of Dutch neopagans.鈥�

Even though the majority of the population in the Netherlands identifies as non-religious, Stoorvogel set out to create an altar to Nehalennia. She teamed up with the Berlin-based art studio Nonhuman Nonsense, which describes itself as 鈥渁 research-driven design and art studio creating near-future fabulations and experiments somewhere between utopia and dystopia.鈥� comprises natural components, such as wood and mud, as well as an AI-generated triptych of the goddess and a space that allows visitors to listen to the sounds of the sea through a shell.

The project, called听鈥淢ud and Flood: The Return of Nehalennia鈥� won the Bio, Art and Design (BAD) Award in 2022 from a consortium of various scientific and cultural institutions in the province, demonstrating that the goddess can garner interest from scientific, artistic, and environmental communities as well.

Stoorvogel hopes that becoming aware of Nehalennia鈥檚 importance to this country鈥攁s well as her function as a medium between the sea and humans鈥攃ould help change the stance of people trying to keep water out at all costs. 鈥淭he water doesn鈥檛 always have to be a threat,鈥� she says. 鈥淚nstead of letting water into our landscape and seeing it as a gigantic loss, [we can see] the beauty of it.鈥�

A return to nature is an overarching theme in neopaganism, which is 鈥渇irmly associated with nature spirituality, the worship of nature, the energy of nature, the energy of the elements,鈥� explains Versteeg. 鈥淭his is another form of inspiration, and that鈥檚 when people turn to nature and try to become aware of it.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

That awareness can be an essential tool for combating climate change. 

From Landscape to Seascape

At a time when the lack of water in the Netherlands is becoming an even bigger threat than an overabundance, it becomes crucial to consider what the sea, lakes, and rivers truly mean to a country so long defined by them. 鈥淲ith climate change bringing more, longer, and more extreme dry and hot periods, we have to find a new balance between discharging of excess water and conserving water for dry periods,鈥� van Gaalen says.

While attempts to fight drought are less known than the struggle against the water, they do exist. For example, the Ijsselmeer鈥攁 reservoir that provides fresh drinking water to Amsterdam and its surroundings鈥攈as fluctuating water levels. This makes it possible to store more water in the wet winter months that can then be used during the drier summer months. 

The Dutch government has also implemented measures for spatial planning they call , or 鈥渨ater and soil guiding,鈥� which involves, among other things, opting for and no longer building apartments or houses in areas prone to flooding.

Implementing so many systemic changes would require a paradigm shift. 鈥淭he most important aspect in these considerations is adapting our activities and land use to the possibilities and restrictions of our water, soil, and natural systems,鈥� explains van Gaalen, 鈥渋ncluding accepting that not all activities are possible on all locations.鈥澨�

But maybe solutions can be found in a more spiritual approach alongside a purely technological one. 

鈥淣ehalennia and her history and characteristics are a way of showing people that we don鈥檛 have to fight against the water,鈥� Stoorvogel says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 about trying to open up to the idea that it鈥檚 part of our landscape.鈥�

But in the words of Mark Charles and Soong-Chan Rah in their 2019 book 鈥淲hite America could not perpetrate five hundred years of dehumanizing injustice without traumatizing itself.鈥� 

On the night of December 31, 2015, I learned about my ancestors鈥� long-standing history on this land. The next day, January 1, 2016, the process of unraveling our family鈥檚 amnesia began. As I began sharing my ancestral discoveries with my white friends and family, I encountered blank stares and shrugging shoulders, accompanied by a quick change of subject to something more timely, relevant, or entertaining. I was often told reassuringly, 鈥淲ell, that was a long time ago. Everyone thought differently then. You shouldn鈥檛 feel guilty about that.鈥� Far from being placated, I wanted to scream. People literally could not hear what I was saying. I felt isolated in a process that was rewiring my core identity.

What I had discovered in my own family history posed a threat to the person I thought I was, and to the person I was taught to be. Looking back now, it felt like I was receiving an ancestral push toward truth and healing after many generations of silence. The process went far beyond a tidy phrase like 鈥渨hite guilt.鈥� Over time, I began distinguishing guilt from accountability. Staying stuck in guilt is not helpful. Moving into accountability catalyzes necessary change. I was rapidly becoming someone I did not recognize. 

What was now glaringly obvious and 鈥渋n my face鈥� all the time was being actively ignored by well-meaning white people all around me. Overwhelmingly, I felt pressured to calm down, behave, and just stop talking about it. Why? Talking about the shadows of colonialism and enslavement contradicts the heroic American mythology that we learned as children. Within the Euro-American diaspora, our capacity to deal with our ancestral legacies is compromised. We are part of a culture that is more invested in maintaining a narrative of innocence and denial than in embracing truth and healing.

I imagine this work to confront our collective amnesia will continue for the rest of my life. I hope it will persist into future generations as well. Over the years, I came to see our amnesia as .

When our European ancestors carried to Turtle Island their diseases, poverty, disrupted communities and families, severed cultures, and violence, it did not expunge their own historical trauma. Establishing dominance over the unique civilizations that were already thriving on this continent did not make us whole again. Kidnapping African leaders, healers, holy people, Elders, mothers, fathers, and children to build us a wealth-accumulating economy did not bring us peace. 

In her book , Euro-descended Elder Louise Dunlap shares how she perceives the suffering of our settler ancestors: 鈥�…a nightmarish, button-your-lips suffering that warped the mind, closing it to compassion for other humans and encouraging brutality against perceived enemies and the Earth itself. These ancestors struggled with a punishing legacy that still afflicts us.鈥�

Our ancestors鈥� punishing legacy went into the underbelly of our society. Today, it hides out behind a polite mask of denial. Almost everything in Eurocentric culture conspires to keep us asleep. Amnesia is the path of least resistance. 

I am grateful that the ancestors have shown me the unpopular truth: Unleashing their tears and reviving their memory might just be the messy, raw, healing balm for the wounds our people sustained and perpetrated so long ago. If we muster the courage to traverse these shadows, who might we become on the other side of all that pain? Who are we underneath the denial, amnesia, grief, guilt, and shame? 

Let鈥檚 find out.

This essay is excerpted with permission from by Hilary Giovale (Green Writers Press, 2024).

鈥淥ver [two] months ago, I decided to permanently stop treatment for my autoimmune illnesses,鈥� Alexandria wrote. 鈥淭he side effects were absolutely horrendous and the treatments only provided a temporary fix that has to be administered again and again for the rest of my life to stall the illness, which isn鈥檛 a cure.鈥� She ended the post by naming her dual diagnosis, which she had been largely private about aside from .

For people with rare diseases鈥攅stimated to be between 鈥攆inding the right doctors and treatments can feel like a Herculean feat, a reality Alexandria knew all too well. 鈥淭here is no long-term cure,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚鈥檓 very very very sick, things are progressing fast. I鈥檓 wheelchair or bed bound most of the time. I had 16 seizures yesterday and over 30 stiff person attacks.鈥�

In the United States, rare-disease patients often go into significant medical debt to pursue treatment, even traveling to different states to see specialists with months-long waiting lists. In addition to the monetary burden, those seeking treatment for rare diseases also face a mental, emotional, and spiritual toll. 

鈥淚 wake up with excruciating pain,鈥� says , a disabled adaptive fashion influencer and one of just a few hundred people in human history to have been diagnosed with , a cancer disorder that causes bone tumors and vascular lesions most often in the hands and feet. 鈥淭here鈥檚 not a moment that I don鈥檛 have excruciating pain, which is awful for a variety of reasons. It obviously takes a toll on your mental health and your social and interpersonal and professional life. The first thing I have to do in the morning is wake up, take my opioids, and then wait an hour just to be able to get out of bed and do anything at any capacity.鈥�

In the face of these obstacles, rare-disease patients like Dur谩n must relentlessly call insurance companies and medical offices, create and share resources, and form care networks to lift some of the burden鈥攁nd help keep them alive.

Routine Misdiagnosis

As a baby, Dur谩n was misdiagnosed with , which similarly causes bone tumors in different parts of the body. When her father sought a second opinion, she was again misdiagnosed, this time with , which occurs when scar-like tissue replaces healthy bones.

鈥淭hey ran with that diagnosis until I was 18,鈥� Dur谩n says. 鈥淭he treatment is similar in that I still got leg lengthening, but I was also supposed to get annual cancer screenings with full-body MRIs or full-body CT scans with radiation, and they weren鈥檛 doing that.鈥� The Cleveland Clinic notes that Maffucci syndrome patients , with up to 50% of Maffucci patients developing chondrosarcoma, a bone cancer that begins in cartilage cells. (Dur谩n estimates her odds of getting cancer at 55%.)

Just before Dur谩n graduated high school, her doctor misdiagnosed her with cancer and referred her to orthopedic oncology. However, when she showed up for her appointment, she learned she鈥檇 been kicked off her when she turned 18. To continue treatment, she had to apply for adult benefits or find other insurance, which would severely delay care.

In 2017, Dur谩n was officially diagnosed with Maffucci syndrome. 鈥淸Maffucci syndrome] is so rare that when I was diagnosed, they didn鈥檛 even know what gene caused it,鈥� Dur谩n says. Unfortunately, Dur谩n isn鈥檛 the only rare-disease patient who鈥檚 been misdiagnosed more than once.

Miranda Edwards, a.k.a. , was dismissed by multiple doctors for 鈥渁nxiety鈥� when she had a malignant tumor in her adrenal gland. Due to the delay in care, her tumor became untreatable. She has been 鈥溾�� since 2014, sharing each step of her journey online as well as resources she鈥檚 created herself鈥攍ike a 鈥攕o others can advocate for their health.

In 2023, Edwards asked for help raising thousands of dollars to pay for life-saving molecular testing of her thyroid after she was outright denied surgery to remove a Grade 5 tumor because of her existing condition. Edwards, who is based in Canada, said her health care would have paid for the testing if the tumor had been Grade 4 or lower; essentially, she was once again put at extraordinary risk because of doctors dragging their feet with the 鈥渨atch and wait鈥� approach.

Tools for Progress

In many cases, rare-disease patients are forced to become the foremost experts on their conditions, putting them in the position of educating the medical professionals who are supposed to be treating them. 鈥淚 think a lot of health care professionals give up on finding answers beyond our rare diseases,鈥� Dur谩n explains. 鈥淚 was at a Maffucci syndrome and Ollier disease patients summit at Johns Hopkins last year, and my researchers told us that when doctors see a rare-disease patient, they often focus on the rare disease and forget [the patient] can have common diseases too.鈥�

Dur谩n describes seeing multiple doctors, independently researching her test results, and persistently asking questions of her care team, particularly when they didn鈥檛 have an immediate answer for symptoms that didn鈥檛 line up with her Maffucci diagnosis. Eventually, she was diagnosed with both hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and Hashimoto鈥檚 disease. 鈥淲e already deal with a lot of health issues,鈥� Dur谩n says. 鈥淪tress is a notoriously bad thing鈥攆or lack of a better word鈥攆or pain, for chronic pain and energy levels and mental health. I think having an advocacy group to help patients navigate the system would definitely improve the quality of our lives.鈥�

Since 2008, the last day of February has been celebrated as , a patient-led effort coordinated with more than 65 global organizations, including the European Organisation for Rare Diseases (EURORDIS), to raise awareness for lesser-known diagnoses and the people living with them. Stanislav Ostapenko, who鈥檚 been director of communications at EURORDIS since 2021, says rare-disease patients must have strong support networks, including online, to effectively navigate their illnesses.

鈥淲e know that patient populations are very scarce,鈥� he explains. 鈥淲e know that for certain diseases there are just a handful [of] patients across the globe. So it is very important to know that you belong to a community and you can be accepted, you can be understood, and you can also speak to people who have the same condition as you do and that you can find support.鈥�

A major component of Rare Disease Day is translating and adapting tool kits for multiple languages and impairments so anyone can use them, even if they lack expertise. EURORDIS uses this tool to encourage us all鈥攖hose with rare diseases and those without鈥攖o be good patient advocates.

The Significance of Burnout

A from the physician network MDVIP and online random-probability panel Ipsos KnowledgePanel indicates that 61% of polled patients see the U.S. health care system as a hassle and that one in three are 鈥渂urned out.鈥� One-third of patients reported deferring care in the last five years because they couldn鈥檛 get a timely enough appointment to address their concerns or they had a bad experience with a provider. The survey also states that at least one in four Americans who did seek care suffered a negative impact on their mental health, had worsening symptoms, or were misdiagnosed.

All of these factors lead to patient burnout, with chronically ill, disabled, and rare-disease patients facing these issues on a more frequent basis because of how often they are forced to seek care for symptom management, procedures, and medications.

In her 2022 book , Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha writes about the importance of learning both one鈥檚 own and their loved ones鈥� 鈥渃are languages鈥� to create inter-abled care webs in which everyone can get what they need without harming others and getting caretaker burnout: 鈥淲hen I think of the care webs I am a part of that mostly work, they are a complex moment-by-moment dance of figuring out what we need that is a lot like consent negotiations in sex,鈥� Piepzna-Samarasinha writes. 鈥淩aw embarrassment, messiness, confusion, working through shame at needing something (or anything), figuring out what I might need to even begin to ask for.鈥�

Piepzna-Samarasinha also writes about the necessity of employing 鈥渁 diversity of care tactics鈥� so people can, for example, seek help chasing a referral from a doctor to another doctor to the insurance company and back again, or assistance applying for financial aid from organizations such as the National Organization for Rare Disorders (NORD) to help offset the costs of medication, diagnostic testing, travel assistance, and caregiver respite.

When the COVID-19 pandemic began in 2020, mutual aid and collective care became even more important for people with disabilities, including people with rare diseases. Whether it鈥檚 nondisabled people offering rides, helping call doctors or email insurance companies, or assisting with documentation and organization, advocacy networks鈥攏o matter how small鈥攈ave become essential for rare disease patients.

In 2022, disability-justice activist Alice Wong wrote about that ended with her family expending great financial and personal resources to prevent her from having to move to an inpatient facility: 鈥淭he safety net is not a net!鈥� Wong wrote. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a big fucking hole.鈥� Without Wong鈥檚 family advocating for her, she would have had few choices for continued care: 鈥淭he system drives people toward institutions,鈥� she wrote. 鈥淚t is designed to segregate expendable and 鈥榥on-productive鈥� disabled and older people like me. Out of sight, out of mind.鈥�

Advocacy networks can help patients fight for their needs with insurance companies, which are often quick to dismiss medications that are 鈥渢oo expensive鈥� or treatments that are 鈥渘ot medically necessary.鈥� They can work with NORD to launch local registries, promote or host funding drives for patient-focused drug development, and work directly with existing disability-rights organizations to streamline processes and/or build out their volunteer base.

Dur谩n, like Wong, relies heavily on her nondisabled family members for help with daily tasks, which can include bringing her food and water or cleaning her room (the latter which she pays them to do). 鈥淎s disabled people, we鈥檙e already grappling with our health and it already bleeds into every aspect of our lives,鈥� says Dur谩n. 鈥淚f we had nondisabled allies caring about accessibility or ableism at any capacity and advocating on our behalf, or just calling out ableism or inaccessibility even when we鈥檙e not in the room, I think it would make a world of a difference, especially because I think a lot of disabled people already face a lot of burnout because of our health or lack thereof.鈥�

Highly visible advocates like Dur谩n and Edwards use their platforms to educate their followers, but ultimately they shouldn鈥檛 be tasked with radicalizing nondisabled people into confronting and seeking to improve the medical system. 鈥淣o one is immune to becoming disabled,鈥� Dur谩n points out. 鈥淚t can happen to quite literally anyone.鈥� If that doesn鈥檛 radicalize nondisabled people, perhaps nothing will.

鈥淏y furthering the militarizing and surveillance of our city鈥攁nd coordinating law enforcement resources across the region, including ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement]鈥攖hey鈥檙e actually making our cities into Cop Cities,鈥� said Refilwe Gqajela, a community organizer with the  in California鈥檚 Bay Area.

Gqajela said organizers in Northern California have been working to form the coalition since the facility was announced in August 2023. They鈥檝e expressed their opposition at , saying the money should instead be put into other programs that would benefit the community.

Of course, California isn鈥檛 the only state where Cop Cities are being built. The term first captured national attention in January 2023, when  while  that鈥檚 displacing one of the largest urban forests.

The influx of these facilities parallels the emergence of the Defund the Police movement, which鈥攆ollowing the murder of George Floyd in 2020鈥攕aw thousands of people across the country mobilize to decry police violence against Black and Brown communities. Within the last five years, there has been a across the country. 

This development is raising concerns with anti-police organizers, especially when it comes to the impact on marginalized communities and movements. There is now a facility in almost every state and, according to researcher and mutual aid organizer Renee Johnston, at least 10 states have multiple police compounds. 

鈥淭his nonsense with 鈥榯he training needs to improve鈥� has been on a slow incline,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥�2020 marks that period where, if we鈥檙e looking at a graph, there would be a sharp uptick in how quickly [Cop Cities] were going up.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Groups like , , and Stop Cop City Bay Area have been fighting these new police facilities in their communities by way of canvassing, holding rallies, petitioning, and more鈥攕imilar to the effort in California. 

At least seven cities, including Chicago and Baltimore, have allocated more than $100 million to their Cop Cities鈥攁nd many are meant to host international police training programs like . Activists and scholars have said that Cop Cities are replicated after Israel鈥檚 own Cop City,  against Palestinians. This would be an expansion of already existing police training exchange with .

鈥淲e鈥檙e told that police are here to serve and protect the public and they care about the community, but I just don鈥檛 think any of that is true,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 why training doesn鈥檛 work, because there is no training that you can give that鈥檚 going to change the nature of a system.鈥�

While Cop Cities have been rolled out , activists around the country have been vocal about their opposition. Many have decried the multi-million dollar allocations to policing, and called on their local leaders to instead invest in resources needed by their communities.

Divestment From Police, Investment in Communities

Tennessee lawmakers are throwing $415 million into their , an 800-acre facility to be built in a historically Black Nashville neighborhood currently experiencing a housing crisis, extreme displacement, and gentrification, according to Erica Perry, executive director of Nashville鈥檚 .

鈥�$415 million is a huge amount of money, especially in a state where we ranked low in health, literacy, education, and housing,鈥� Perry said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 extremely frustrating because we know that money could be spent on things that would help people have healthy, thriving, safe lives.鈥�

In response, the Southern Movement Committee began advocating for in the creation of an office of youth safety, community centers, and alternatives to police in schools鈥攑rograms they say the community actually needs. In June, $1 million of this budget was approved by the Nashville City Council.

鈥淲e鈥檙e trying to approach our budget work in a way that addresses safety and creates alternative forms of safety that do not require cops, courts, and cages,鈥� said Southern Movement Committee Arts and Culture Director Mike Floss.

Activists in Chicago have shared similar concerns. In the years before the , the city had seen the closure of, as well as  in U.S. history. Naturally, many residents were outraged when the new multi-million dollar police training facility was announced, especially considering the Chicago Police Department already had seven other training facilities in the area.

鈥淲hy is there suddenly this new investment available, when we were told that the city was broke when we were asking for investments in our own communities?鈥� asked Benji Hart, an adult ally with the youth-led No Cop Academy Coalition.

Chicago鈥檚 Cop Academy came after the police-killing of 17-year-old Laquan McDonald, who was  by a Chicago police officer in 2014. Not long after, youth organizers from the Stop Cop Academy campaign began spreading information by canvassing and passing out fliers, as well as leading more disruptive actions like taking over trains in large groups chanting, passing out flyers, and talking to other passengers about the campaign. They also blocked city council building elevators. Eventually, they grew the effort into a coalition of more than 100 local organizations. 

 鈥淭he initial thought was that there has to be a challenge to this narrative,鈥� Hart said. 鈥淚t can鈥檛 just be that the city announced it was going to build this thing. There needed to be some evidence of pushback and opposition to the construction, and calling for different funding priorities on the part of the city and for investments in community resources.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

For many organizers, the work is about making it known that crime isn鈥檛 the biggest threat鈥攊t鈥檚 houselessness, rising rents, food deserts, and the myriad other issues plaguing communities competing for funds with Cop Cities.

鈥淭he safest communities in the United States are not the communities that are over-policed,鈥� said Kamau Franklin, a lead organizer with the Stop Cop City movement in Atlanta. 鈥淭hey are the communities that have resources that benefit the young people in their communities, that give people outlets, and make sure schools are satisfactory and building your mind. Those are the ways in which these resources could and should be used.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Repression of Movements

Within the last two and a half years, local activists have been leading the Stop Cop City movement in Atlanta through canvassing, demonstrations, rallies, town halls, and creating petitions that garnered more than 116,000 signatures, growing the mobilization into a national conversation.

They鈥檝e faced pushback from the other side. Dozens of  and . According to Franklin, this a coordinated effort to criminalize activism and scare organizers. He said a large part of the facility will be built by the end of the year, even though that 59% of residents don鈥檛 support it.

Over the last year, repressive policing has extended beyond Stop Cop City organizers to encompass Gaza solidarity student encampments as well. Tamera Hutcherson, an organizer with Stop Cop City Dallas, said the city council held secretive meetings and used vague language around 鈥減ublic safety鈥� to get  that gave $50 million to a police training facility. Soon after,  Gaza solidarity student encampment. 

鈥淔or students peacefully protesting, they came in riot gear and in tactical gear, they looked like they were ready for war against civilians,鈥� Hutcherson said. 鈥淚 think most residents are concerned about what this means, not just for the city of Dallas, but for Dallas county and North Texas as a whole.鈥�

While Hutcherson said there are still not many people in Dallas who are aware of the facility being built, she is starting to see more conversations happen as organizers continue canvassing, going door-to-door, and making phone calls to community members. 

鈥淣ot just in Atlanta, but around the country, the militarized police are on full display, meant basically to derail and destroy movements, to scare people,鈥� Franklin said. 鈥淐op City is a way for them to organize that policing and practice those tactics and strategies even more so.鈥�

In the Bay Area, Refilwe Gqajela said activists have faced increased police and city council repression amidst their efforts to host rallies and town halls. For example, when residents attended city council meetings to speak out about Cop City, the normal three-minute public comment period would be cut down to one minute. The San Pablo Police Department also shut down one of their attempted town halls at Costa County Community College. Nevertheless, Gqajela and others have continued to organize.

鈥淲e understand this to be a direct threat to our organizing鈥攖his is a state repression tactic,鈥� Gqajela said. 鈥淲e know that this isn鈥檛 just going to impact the people of San Pablo. It鈥檚 a regional training facility to organize the policing forces in the Bay Area to squash the kind of organizing that鈥檚 being done right now for Palestine, for example.鈥�

The Movement Continues

Activists vow to continue their advocacy, despite the pushback. Along with Black Youth Assembly, the Southern Movement Committee has been meeting with Nashville city officials to get their Varsity Spending Plan on the city council鈥檚 radar. 

鈥淚t鈥檚 our work to help people see what is happening鈥攚hen it comes to their health and education needs鈥攊s connected to the state鈥檚 insistence on spending $415 million on this campus,鈥� Perry said. 

As the organizers with Stop Cop City Dallas continue to strategize and mobilize, Hutcherson said that she sees the mobilizing of students across the University of North Texas system as a victory. Four of the five campuses have to pressure administrators to back out of the partnership with the Dallas Police Department through protests and organizing.

鈥淲e are continuing to educate the public, and also figure out and strategize ways to continue applying pressure to ensure that this is not built,鈥� Hutcherson said.

The organizers with the Anti Police-Terror Project and the coalition in the Bay Area have been holding town halls and rallies to stop their Cop City from being built鈥攁nd teachers, students, environmental activists, residents, and health care workers have been mobilized to join the cause. They鈥檝e also been organizing alongside the Ohlone people, who are native to Northern California where this project is being built and have been  being built on their land. 

In Chicago, activists were able to delay the Cop City project, but not its eventual construction. Undeterred, Hart said that some of the youth organizers involved in the No Cop Academy coalition successfully campaigned for  contract with the Chicago Police Department, which eventually led to the contract鈥檚 end.

Around the country, activists and organizers have been building solidarity with the struggle in Atlanta and other states, as well as Palestine. As Hart noted, solidarity is important during this 鈥渃lear orchestrated push for militarization and hyper investment in police鈥攊n the wake of arguably the largest protests in U.S. history calling for the defunding of the police.鈥�

鈥淲e need to be supporting each other across city and state lines, and not just treating these as a bunch of little battles against individual Cop Academies or Cop Cities,鈥� he said. 鈥淥ur response needs to be as orchestrated as the police state鈥檚 response to our organizing.鈥�

This story originally appeared at , and is reprinted here under a Creative Commons license.

Though a world away from my daily life as a climate communicator in Boston, I found myself returning to a pressing question: 鈥淚s it too late to address climate change?鈥�

It鈥檚 a question that marine biologist and self-proclaimed 鈥減olicy nerd鈥� Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, with her own family connections to Jamaica, is intimately familiar with. In her latest book, (One World Press, September 2024), Johnson offers an evocative exploration of possibility and transformation in the face of climate change. The collection of essays, interviews, poems, and art began as an attempt to spark conversation about climate solutions in popular culture, but it evolved into something much bigger: 鈥淭his book is my response to anyone still wondering whether all of our climate efforts are worth it,鈥� Johnson told me when we spoke on the phone in September as she was traveling for her book tour. 

Johnson, who co-edited the bestselling 2021 anthology All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solution for the Climate Crisis, builds on her previous work to deliver a timely and urgent guide for envisioning and implementing climate solutions. The book is not just about understanding the problem (though Johnson and climate scientist Kate Marvel make clear 鈥渢he atmosphere is fundamentally different now鈥� due to human activities); it鈥檚 about contemplating鈥攁nd in a way, manifesting鈥攖he various paths we as a society can take toward a livable future.

Find your people, whoever that might be, or bring your people. Don鈥檛 feel like you鈥檙e supposed to go it alone. This requires community.鈥� 鈥擝rian Donahue

One of those paths must inevitably involve looking to nature for solutions. In a section of the book entitled 鈥淩eplenish and Re-Green,鈥� Johnson and others imagine a world where food systems are regional and regenerative, biodiversity is valued, and human stewardship of other species is the norm. Brian Donahue, a professor, farmer, and New Englander like myself, proposes a novel plan to revitalize rural America by growing more food closer to home and repopulating small towns. 

As a Black woman with dreams of leaving urban life for a country homestead, I鈥檝e often felt afraid of the conservative values that typically come with living in rural communities. But Donahue offers sage advice: 鈥淔ind your people, whoever that might be, or bring your people. Don鈥檛 feel like you鈥檙e supposed to go it alone. This requires community.鈥�

Community is a throughline of the book, and not just the human variety. Animals and insects, ecosystems, and various natural cycles are incredibly important for planetary health. But they remain enigmatic for most of us. Take, for example, the fact that even documenting the number of species on Earth is a never-ending effort. Yet Johnson writes that 鈥渢he climate solutions that nature offers can comprise more than one-third of the CO₂ mitigation needed to hold global warming to below 2 degrees C.鈥� A crucial part of unlocking this potential for change is having greater respect for鈥攁nd ceding decision-making power to鈥攖he naturalists, conservation scientists, and Indigenous communities already stewarding the natural world.

What if we had systems that loved us and, by extension, the planet?鈥�

Just as the book homes in on specific solutions, it also zooms out, taking aim at the cultural values undergirding many of our modern systems. In an interview with author and activist Bill McKibben, Johnson draws connections between the capitalistic values of short-term growth and the funding of new fossil fuel development. The book lays bare the fact that money that companies and consumers have sitting in major banks produces more carbon than the average American does in a year. 

According to McKibben, a reimagined financial ecosystem might rely more on credit unions and locally owned banks that keep money in a given community: 鈥淭hat should be happening as we start to rely more on renewable energy, because oil and gas are in Texas and Saudi Arabia and Russia, but happily, sun and wind are everywhere.鈥�

Through the exploration of subjects from media and labor to transit and legal systems, Johnson and co-conspirators answer a deeper question about the climate crisis: What if we had systems that loved us and, by extension, the planet? In the section she calls 鈥淎way From the Brink,鈥� Johnson sees these ideas to their rightful conclusion: Advertisements for fossil fuels and gas-powered cars would be an aberration. Climate change would be embedded in all local journalism, not viewed as a niche topic. We would evolve beyond the climate-apocalypse box office flick, and climate realities would become the backdrop of every genre of television and film. The influence of fossil fuels in politics would be reigned in, and our democratic system would become more representative. Exploitative labor practices would be abolished, and a livable wage would be commonplace. Seeing this vision laid out with striking specificity, it feels to me like it鈥檚 within our grasp.

Johnson admits that on the role of electoral politics in climate action, and the climate impacts of mega industries like fast fashion, the book is a bit light. These are two topics Johnson plans to cover in her new podcast debuting on her in the fall of 2024. 鈥淭his is such a useful question鈥攚hat if we get it right?鈥攖hat this book can鈥檛 fully answer,鈥� she tells me frankly. 鈥淪o I want to keep the conversation going.鈥�

Whether you鈥檙e an activist, a parent, or simply curious about climate, you are likely to find pieces in this collection that appeal to you鈥攁nd that鈥檚 intentional. The book does not argue for one-size-fits-all solutions. 鈥淭oo often, the climate movement and the media tell everyone to do the same things: Vote, protest, donate, spread the word, and lower your carbon footprint,鈥� Johnson writes. 鈥淏ut all too rarely are we asked to contribute our specific talents, our superpowers.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

For my part, I saw myself in the book鈥檚 Afrofuturist agricultural artwork by Olalekan Jeyifous. And reflecting on Marge Piercy鈥檚 poem 鈥淭o Be of Use鈥� inspired me to view my climate work, with its many ups and downs, as an exercise in perseverance. It encouraged me to recommit to incremental change and stay invested for the long haul. 

We need to live as though we understand this crisis is real.鈥� 鈥擜yana Elizabeth Johnson

The variety of pieces in the book and the many forms they take serve as a reminder that everyone has a place in these climate futures and a hand in bringing them to life. Johnson鈥檚 climate action Venn diagram aims to pinpoint the intersection of what brings you joy, what you鈥檙e good at, and what work needs doing. That, she says, can be your place in the climate movement. For me, it鈥檚 probably something involving but the book overflows with inspiration and starting points for anyone struggling to picture a replenished world.

That鈥檚 not to say that this world is without sacrifice, though. In a concluding entry, Johnson and ocean farmer Bren Smith are clear-eyed about the necessary work and change ahead. 鈥淲e鈥檙e going to have to say goodbye to some things we hold close to our heart,鈥� Smith says, remarking on the many natural wonders we鈥檝e already lost. Johnson adds, 鈥淲e need to live as though we understand this crisis is real,鈥� which means trying out a range of solutions and having a healthy relationship with failure. 

A book of this kind, with its cautiously optimistic view on climate, might read as wishful thinking. To me, it is a prayer for the modern era: where practicality meets possibility.

Cultural queerphobia is nothing new. In many ways, this recent wave of legislation is an overt escalation of the long-standing and long-normalized homophobia and transphobia in U.S. culture, not unlike 鈥� of the 1950s.

Queer and trans people are deeply familiar with the myriad, relentless ways they experience daily discrimination, erasure, and misrepresentation interpersonally, institutionally, and through dominant beliefs and values. The cultural platforming of these values creates an environment for bigoted, discriminatory politics to be framed as legitimate, logical, and even 鈥渘ecessary.鈥� Cultural attitudes build the stage that anti-LGBTQ politicians love to preach from.听

However, there鈥檚 nothing inevitable or permanent about anti-LGBTQ sentiments or cultural beliefs, according to , a queer studies and education scholar and professor at California State University. 鈥淩estrictive, binary understandings of gender and heterosexuality as the 鈥榥orm鈥� are ideas that don鈥檛 start out 鈥榥aturally,鈥� but rather get reinforced through repetition, social stigma, or restrictive policies,鈥� says Mattheis. 鈥淲e can just as 鈥榥aturally鈥� direct people to expand their perspectives rather than restrict them.鈥�

There are many ways cultural beliefs 鈥渉appen.鈥� The American educational system, and in particular K鈥�12 public schooling, is one of the most prominent places where young people learn what鈥檚 considered normal, desirable, and valuable鈥攁nd what isn鈥檛. In this sense, education is both a window and a mirror, reinforcing certain worldviews and creating space for alternative perspectives. 

Because students are a captive audience and spend a significant portion of their formative years in the classroom, schools are, logically, a key site to change鈥攐r codify鈥攃ultural attitudes. Modern , , and anti-LGBTQ activists have been working to ensure schools mirror the existing power structures and exclusionary attitudes that benefit them, at the expense of everyone else. As a result, much of the recent anti-LGBTQ legislation targets youth and public schools, including book censorship, , and other and administrators, , and exclusions . And this list doesn鈥檛 even touch on the predatory that disproportionately targets youth of color and youth with disabilities.

As devastating as it is for the LGBTQ community, this legislation pales in comparison to Project 2025鈥攁 sweeping initiative developed by former Trump officials and the Heritage Foundation, a shadowy, conservative, . Project 2025 is a for the next conservative president to overhaul the federal government and implement an authoritarian regime of widespread surveillance, mass censorship, and discrimination. Project 2025 would dismantle the Department of Education, eliminate Head Start and other programs designed for low-income youth, revoke federal protections for LGBTQ students, and threaten schools that protect trans kids or develop inclusive curriculum with lawsuits. Public education would .

In short, queerphobic attitudes and increasingly prevalent anti-LGBTQ policies form two sides of one toxic bridge, mutually reinforcing one another and making life hellish for queer and trans people of all ages. Project 2025 merely scaffolds itself onto existing queerphobia and takes anti-LGBTQ policies in education to new heights. 

Still, schools can be a window. For every horror story, there is a knowing English teacher who slips a queer kid a life-changing book. There are the no-nonsense coaches who ensure trans kids are welcome on and off the field. And there are the lessons, friendships, and classes that offer all students a chance to connect, collaborate, and think critically across differences. Schools are sites of incredible potential鈥攁nd spaces that can effectively intervene against homophobia and transphobia.

Sparse Support for Teachers鈥攁nd Students

Creating an environment where homophobia and transphobia are challenged鈥攁nd where LGBTQ youth feel seen, safe, and valued鈥攔equires understanding the challenges facing many students and educators on the ground.

Rebecca* is a third grade teacher in Florida鈥攇round zero for much of the country鈥檚 anti-LGBTQ legislation, given the state鈥檚 proudly regressive political leadership. (Editor鈥檚 note: Rebecca asked to use her first name only, out of concern about professional retaliation for speaking candidly. Read 精东影业鈥檚 policy on veiled sources.) She says teachers in her district lack the support they need to navigate both age-appropriate conversations around identity and a provide culturally responsive, LGBTQ-affirming curriculum (which is ). 

At 8 and 9 years old, Rebecca says her students are already starting to use the word 鈥済ay鈥� as an insult and parrot reductive gender stereotypes. In her experience, students don鈥檛 always have the social-emotional skills to understand corrective discussions. Educators are often left to address issues of identity or name-calling ad hoc鈥攁nd Rebecca says many aren鈥檛 equipped or don鈥檛 feel comfortable with the responsibility.

鈥淪ome of my own teammates will get into [these situations] and they鈥檙e like, 鈥極h, well, 鈥済ay鈥� means happy, so consider it a compliment,鈥欌�� Rebecca says. Educators who know better, meanwhile, are caught in an impossible bind鈥攖rying to support students, teach kids and colleagues how to respond to these incidents, and not run afoul of state laws that in some cases prohibit the very mention of sexual orientation or gender identity.听

Though her school鈥檚 administration has been supportive of her personally, as a lesbian teacher, Rebecca says the school district does not invite discussions about LGBTQ issues, figures, or history in or outside of the classroom. Instead, LGBTQ topics are swept up under the umbrella of teaching 鈥渞espect鈥� and anti-bullying efforts. Rebecca sees her district as mostly reactive to bullying rather than proactive about inclusive curriculum, culturally responsive staff training, and social-emotional learning opportunities for students.听

In the absence of any meaningful presence of more inclusive, expansive cultural models, many students are absorbing restrictive, queerphobic norms by default.

Even in states with , there鈥檚 little direction on how to actually enact inclusion-focused policies. As a result, many of these responsibilities end up falling through the cracks or onto well-intentioned but overburdened teachers. 鈥淚n California, state education code describes multiple aspects of school life in which teachers are expected to actively support and include queer and trans youth,鈥� says Mattheis. 鈥淗owever, most teachers receive little to no introduction to state laws and policies as part of their preparation and are unfamiliar with these protections and requirements.鈥�

Taken together, these factors鈥攆rom top-down policies and lackluster curriculum to underresourced teachers and underprepared students鈥攃reate an environment where all kids can struggle to shine and grow.听

Shaking Up the Syllabus

Building an LGBTQ-affirming classroom starts early, according to Erica Castro, MSW, a facilitator and educator at , a Denver-based organization serving queer youth. A large part of Castro鈥檚 job is going into schools, summer camps, and nonprofits鈥攁nywhere kids are growing up鈥攁nd providing educator training and organizational audits.

鈥淧articularly in elementary, there is this stigma and idea that talking about gender and sexuality does not belong,鈥� says Castro. But Castro says that by the age of 2, kids are and differentiate between boys and girls鈥攎eaning the adages that kids are 鈥渢oo young鈥� or 鈥渃an鈥檛 understand鈥� age-appropriate conversations around gender and sexuality just don鈥檛 hold up.听

鈥淏eing able to get into the elementary schools and do these workshops has been, I think, transformative for the ways that teachers are able to build foundational, cultural, and policy-level structures [from the] first day of school,鈥� says Castro. 

In shaping workshops for all ages, Castro works directly with youth to identify what resources they want and the types of training their educators need鈥攊ncluding using and respecting pronouns, creating gender-support plans in the classroom, and connecting to free or low-cost therapy and mentorships for LGBTQ youth. Castro also partners with educators to diversify and update curriculum. (As a jumping-off point, Castro recommends .)

Aside from comprehensive, and above all, consistent education for students, educators, and their families, it鈥檚 also important to consider two more factors: the physical environment and policies at a school.

鈥淎m I seeing visual cues of queerness [or] that the school is openly accepting?鈥� asks Castro when making an assessment of a school environment.  鈥淎nd beyond it looking safe as a checkbox, what does it look like for our young people to actually feel safe?鈥�

The implementation of many of these resources occur at the intersection of physical space and policy. Gender-neutral bathrooms, for example, are 鈥攂ut the policy doesn鈥檛 necessarily guarantee the resource is in place. At one Denver high school, Castro says a group of queer students were forced to cross a busy road to access a bathroom at a local library. 鈥淸LGBTQ students] were just holding it all day, or they would just go home and stay home. There were attendance barriers that impacted their education tenfold.鈥� Access to sports, too, can be make-or-break for many queer and trans kids.听

To truly support their LGBTQ students, most schools need a major shake-up when it comes to the variety, consistency, and depth of resources they offer queer and trans youth, their families, and communities. The good news is that, by and large, these tools already exist. As their own program faces closure largely due to , Castro believes a school district鈥檚 budget and priorities must reflect .听

鈥淲hat made us want to become an educator in the first place is to protect all students,鈥� says Castro, who taught high school for five years themselves. 鈥淸LGBTQ youth] are experiencing so much at home, in addition to homophobia and transphobia, and it is our responsibility to be that safe place for them.鈥�

Beyond the Classroom

In an ideal world, every school administration and teacher nationwide would hitch their wagon to the potential and needs of LGBTQ students and families. But as Nereyda Luna, a community organizer and former case worker for the gender-expansive community in New York City, points out, trans youth can be bullied at the kitchen table just as easily as in the classroom. 

鈥淧eople often think that youth exist in this whimsical world. And no, I think that youth are very aware of what is happening around them,鈥� says Luna. 鈥淭hey know that 鈥業f I come out, if I present myself to the world for who I am, this is going to be hard.鈥欌��

Community spaces often provide much-needed educational opportunities for caregivers to disrupt a queerphobic culture. Outreach to cisgender and heterosexual parents鈥攑articularly those with misconceptions about LGBTQ people or those unaware of the impact of anti-LGBTQ legislation鈥攊s especially important, because these adults vote, raise queer and trans kids, and take their values to all areas of public and private life.

鈥淭he most effective way to help families and ensure people break through cultural norms is through personal connection and stories,鈥� says Rev. Ray McKinnon, in North Carolina. 鈥淭he most effective way to reach people is not with data; it鈥檚 not going to be some incredible argument. It is humanizing the person, it is taking these means and scare tactics and [putting] a face on it.鈥�

Through PFLAG, McKinnon and his colleagues offer peer-to-peer support and workshops for adults鈥攑rimarily the parents and grandparents of LGBTQ kids. Last year, PFLAG Charlotte offered 29 workshops to more than 1,200 total participants. More than 600 people鈥攔anging from their 20s to 70s鈥攗sed PFLAG Charlotte鈥檚 peer-support services. To better serve their community, McKinnon says they鈥檝e recently launched Apoyando con Amor, a Spanish-speaking peer-support group, and plans to start groups for Black and gender-expansive families as well. 鈥淲e also firmly believe that it is not the responsibility of queer people to educate straight people on these things, and it especially isn鈥檛 the job of queer kids to do that,鈥� McKinnon adds.听

Though the organization is nonpartisan, PFLAG Charlotte also offers voter outreach and education on local legislation and policies that target LGBTQ people. 鈥淎dvocacy, allyship must always have an action,鈥� says McKinnon. 鈥淵ou are not just accumulating information when you come to the workshops … it鈥檚 for a purpose. It鈥檚 to give you tools so that you can become an accomplice who is walking lockstep with us.鈥�

Those accomplices鈥攊n schools, churches, community centers, and culture-setting institutions nationwide鈥攚ill be integral to cementing a culture shift that not only makes U.S. society safe for LGBTQ people, but welcoming and affirming. Building an LGBTQ-affirming culture requires a healthy dose of imagination, problem-solving, and critically, the willingness to become a life-long learner (and un-learner) to help map out a more just culture鈥攊n and out of the classroom.

Hell鈥檚 Kitchen, the loosely based on Alicia Keys鈥� upbringing, follows 17-year-old Ali (Maleah Joi Moon) as she searches for purpose and freedom in 鈥�90s Manhattan. Ali鈥檚 being raised by Jersey (Shoshana Bean), her overprotective single mother who Ali believes is 鈥渟uffocating鈥� her.

As a Black woman, who鈥檚 also biracial, grew up in the 鈥�90s, and navigated early adulthood in New York City, I was enthralled by the show鈥檚 colors and effervescent characters, some of whom have curly hair like mine. Within the musical, Keys鈥� familiar, soulful songs reverberate and shatter spaces that diminish women while making space for vulnerability to become the loudest melody.

While Hell鈥檚 Kitchen鈥檚 premise is promising, the perspective of Black women slowly withers away as other characters鈥� development and traumas are prioritized. When Ali meets Knuck (Chris Lee), a man who drums a bucket near her apartment, she develops a crush on him, though it is unclear why they鈥檝e fallen for each other. 鈥淲hat y鈥檃ll even got in common?鈥� Ali鈥檚 friends ask her, before saying, 鈥淒on鈥檛 waste energy on this.鈥�

Their relationship quickly becomes unhealthy: Ali follows him to his job at a construction site, while he lurks outside her apartment. Though Jersey says they are 鈥渂abies in grown-up bodies,鈥� the reality is Knuck is in his 20s, while Ali has just barely passed the. Their relationship reaches a boiling point when Ali sneaks Knuck into her apartment when her mother鈥檚 not home. Though Knuck knows he shouldn鈥檛 be there, the musical portrays Ali as the sexual instigator: 鈥淸Jersey鈥檚] at work, we got plenty of time,鈥� she tells Knuck. 鈥淟et鈥檚 do it, baby.鈥�

When Jersey walks in on them, she calls the police, who arrest Knuck without explicitly charging him with a crime. Since Ali supposedly didn鈥檛 tell Knuck her actual age and Black men, including Knuck, are overpoliced, Jersey鈥檚 actions are framed as a betrayal. 鈥淓very time she [Jersey] tries to speak to me, I remember what she did to Knuck,鈥� Ali says.

In her angst, Ali turns to her piano teacher, Miss Liza Jane (Kecia Lewis), who belts a heart-wrenching tribute to her son and all the Black people who have been murdered by the police. However, juxtaposing Jane鈥檚 son鈥檚 murder with Knuck鈥檚 arrest feels manipulative, especially considering that .

Both realities can be true: Knuck鈥檚 history with the police is dehumanizing, and Ali鈥檚 unspoken trauma in her problematic affair with him (and within systems) also matters. By prioritizing one struggle over another, Black women鈥檚 traumas, triumphs, and stories are silenced. In essence, Ali becomes an audience member鈥攁 vessel for the people and systems around her rather than a stand-alone character. I left the theater asking, 鈥淲ho鈥檚 Ali? Why was she portrayed that way?鈥�

Theater鈥檚 Minstrel Show Roots

Theater鈥檚 depiction of Black women has deep roots in that reinforced Jim Crow segregation and reduced Black people to stereotypes. In a 2011 paper, historian , Ph.D., writes that these shows fueled negative characterizations of Black women in theater and broader culture, including perpetuating stereotypes such as the oversexualized, aggressive 鈥渏ezebel鈥� and the 鈥渕ammy,鈥� who鈥檚 a 鈥渘atural caretaker.鈥�

In the 1960s and 鈥�70s, Black women playwrights began producing plays that resisted these dehumanizing characteristics and offered a more layered worldview. 鈥淲omen playwrights of the Black Arts Movement followed a tradition of Black women intellectuals who actively resisted controlling images of Black womanhood,鈥� writes La Donna L. Forsgren, Ph.D., in her 2018 book, . Rather than reinforcing 鈥渄istorted images of Black womanhood,鈥� these playwrights, including Pearl Cleage and Ntozake Shange, used art to challenge and complicate the portrayal of Black women as 鈥渟capegoats for the ills within Black communities.鈥�

Forsgren argues that through plays such as For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf (1976) and Mad at Miles: A Blackwoman鈥檚 Guide to Truth (1990), playwrights began focusing more on Black families rather than solely Black men while also revealing hidden truths about Black women鈥檚 traumas and joys.

There might be no better example of this approach than The Color Purple, an award-winning play adapted from Alice Walker鈥檚 Pulitzer Prize鈥搘inning 1982 book that explores three Black women鈥檚 experiences with sexism, racism, and intimate-partner violence. While the book鈥檚 film adaptation in 1985 for its portrayal of Black men, remains a touchstone for Black women seeking understanding of themselves and their experiences.

鈥淲hen it was first released in 1985, The Color Purple was a cinematic outlier,鈥� NPR host Aisha Harris notes in a . 鈥淔or the first time, many Black women saw a movie that reflected their own experiences at home. Characters like Celie and the free-spirited Shug, who鈥檚 played by Margaret Avery, or Sofia, the self-assured force of nature who鈥檚 played by Oprah Winfrey. They were women who had seen or experienced abuse firsthand and pushed to seek happiness in spite of it all.鈥�

Yet even plays that don鈥檛 feature explicit stereotypes about Black women can be harmful. In the musical Hamilton, Sally Hemings, the woman Thomas Jefferson enslaved, was only portrayed briefly caring for Jefferson. Also, the young Maria Reynolds (white in real life, but not in Hamilton) seduces the older Hamilton鈥攂efore trapping him in a scandal, the very epitome of the 鈥渏ezebel.鈥�

While not all theater characters require tragic backstories, plays should depict Black women as layered鈥攏ot foil characters.

Trauma-Informed Theater Practices

Though musicals purvey joy, there鈥檚 also a responsibility to be trauma-informed. Theater productions should consult mental health professionals, scholars, and even members of the production itself. In May, , Hell鈥檚 Kitchen鈥檚 lead actor, publicly revealed her battles with depression. 鈥淚 wasn鈥檛 getting out of bed,鈥� she told The New York Times. 鈥淚 was missing class 鈥� it got really bad.鈥� Imagine if Moon, with this lived experience, helped write Ali鈥檚 journey. 

Broadway plays haven鈥檛 often done this work, though the jukebox musical Jagged Little Pill is an exception. In 2021, after the play鈥檚 producers , they and revisited the script. They also with mental health organizations, recognizing the impact that theater has on trauma. 鈥淲e are very proud of the show we made and its transformative power,鈥� the lead producers said in a statement. 鈥淚t is precisely because we have made this show about these charged and nuanced issues鈥攁 show about radical empathy and truth-telling, about protest and vulnerability鈥攚e have to hold ourselves to a higher standard.鈥�

Even if Hell鈥檚 Kitchen鈥檚 writer, Kristoffer D铆az, isn鈥檛 solely responsible for Ali鈥檚 character arc, playwrights should be trained to understand trauma responses so they can better be conveyed onstage. Perhaps Ali made these choices because women often blame themselves for trauma鈥攂ecause it gives them control when the world feels out of control.

Imagine if Miss Liza Jane told Ali that she wasn鈥檛 responsible for Knuck鈥檚 trauma and suggested support beyond the piano? What if playwrights held characters like Knuck accountable and showed how systems and environments inform a character鈥檚 choices? 

There are some organizations, coalitions, and producers attempting to address these issues, including , , , and

In 2020, after the murder of George Floyd, more than 300 theatermakers of color released 鈥�,鈥� a statement demanding 鈥渁 more equitable and safe space for BIPOC communities in our nation and inside of the American Theater.鈥� The statement鈥攚hich holds the theater industry accountable for actions such as dangling 鈥渙pportunities like carrots before emerging BIPOC artists 鈥� at the expense of [their] art and integrity鈥濃�攐ffers a number of demands. One such demand is for productions to 鈥減rovide therapists or counselors on site for the duration of a rehearsal process and production run when producing/programming content that deals with racialized experiences, and most especially racialized trauma.鈥� Another demand asks for theater companies to diversify the plays they offer by not having the BIPOC plays in any given season centered solely on 鈥渢rauma and pain.鈥�

If Hell鈥檚 Kitchen is any indication, theater is still struggling to meet these proposed standards more than four years later. While more than 100 theater organizations have 鈥攎aking changes that lessen the harm BIPOC performers, producers, and directors experience鈥攖here is still more work to do to create a more equitable theater industry.

Theater professionals don鈥檛 just imitate life鈥攖hey shape it. Keys said she crafted Hell鈥檚 Kitchen , so its writing should remind audiences that women鈥檚 inner 鈥溾�� of bright colors shouldn鈥檛 dim because people around them are struggling to find theirs.

Since the 1960s and the election of President John F. Kennedy, younger voters have supported Democratic candidates, while older voters leaned Republican. But , and now, in 2024, large numbers in both groups are bucking traditional assumptions about their political affiliation.

This shift challenges the age-old political adage that youthful idealism gives way to conservative pragmatism with age. As pollsters and pundits scramble to explain the phenomenon, one intriguing theory emerges: It may .

The Unhappy Vote for Change

I am an  and the co-founder and co-director of the . Our lab investigates and analyzes public opinion and political trends nationwide. With the upcoming election, I鈥檝e been specifically examining the potential influence of happiness on voting patterns.

Research worldwide indicates that happy people prefer keeping things the same, and they . Voters who aren鈥檛 as happy are more open to anti-establishment candidates, seeing the government as a source of their discontent.

These findings may help to explain the Democratic Party鈥檚 waning support among young people.

This group is still reliably blue. Vice President Kamala Harris , with 50% favoring her over former President Donald Trump鈥檚 34%. U.S. voters ages 18 to 35 mainly prefer Democratic views on  and . Yet they are more likely to vote Republican than they have been in the past, especially young men.

Youth Are No Longer Carefree

Declining life satisfaction and happiness levels among young Americans may help to explain their changing political preferences.

Our  found that 55% of respondents ages 18 to 34 reported dissatisfaction with their lives, compared with 65% of the general population.

These findings, , challenge the common belief that young adulthood is one of life鈥檚 happiest periods.

 suggests that older voters, long a Republican base, are trending blue in 2024. As of September 2024, Harris leads among older voters, with somewhere between 51% to 55% favoring her over Trump.

These happy seniors appear to be concerned about sweeping changes that could occur under another Trump administration, like . The Supreme Court鈥檚 overturning of Roe v. Wade in 2022 erased what was seen as a major milestone and accomplishment for that generation.

Older Americans are also focused on retaining , a Democratic priority that Trump has wavered on, and maintaining lower prescription drug costs. Both of these programs help keep older Americans happy and healthy. They barely register for young people.

Polls are notoriously slippery, and they鈥檒l keep changing. But, increasingly, age is no longer a very good indicator of party affiliation.

Happiness Matters at the Ballot Box

I am not suggesting that happiness drives all voting behavior or explains changing political preferences in the United States. But I am saying that it should not be ignored.

My research indicates that to understand why people vote the way they do, it鈥檚 essential to examine happiness alongside other key factors like the economy and personal experiences. By studying how happiness connects with age, life experiences, and engagement with social media, researchers can gain clearer insights into the changing voting behavior of both young and old voters.

The 2024 presidential candidates seem to have intuited this. The Harris campaign is all about 鈥渏oy鈥� and . The Trump campaign adopts an angrier tone and a grievance-filled approach.

Ultimately, happiness is more than just a mood. Just as much as ideology, the literal pursuit of happiness may be shaping decisions at the ballot box.

This article was originally published by听. It has been republished here with permission.听

Yet, in stark contrast to this thriving collection of lives, quiet, depleted areas of the forest and old logging trails tell a different, darker story. The wild beauty of this place used to expand to every horizon before it met a violent history of colonialism. I was raised in the woods of western Massachusetts, not far from here, but my feelings of innate connection to the environment were profoundly altered when I learned the history of this stolen land. My sense of belonging was replaced by questions about my place in the world as someone whose ancestral roots stretch to Scotland and the Middle East, among other lands shaped by colonization and dispossession. 

If you鈥檙e not on the land and part of the land, then who ultimately speaks for the land?鈥� 鈥斆�dhamh 脫 Broin

When my partner and I purchased Mount Owen two years ago, the idea felt like a grotesque misnomer: a false claim of ownership over life impossible to possess, since plants, fungi, and more-than-human animals inherently belong to themselves. Trying to figure out the right word to describe the uncomfortable transfer of 鈥渙wnership鈥� we were negotiating, my partner and I landed on the word 鈥渟tewardship.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

While the word expresses our intent to nurture the local ecosystem, it doesn鈥檛 acknowledge the land鈥檚 original guardians. Today, we hold a land title rooted in a legal system that views land as property, not as a living entity with inherent rights. It is a title linked to historical theft, genocide, and dispossession. Mount Owen rises 1,500 feet above the traditional homeland of the Nipmuc Tribal Nation, stewards of this land for more than 12,000 years. We are working hard to move forward locally and culturally to dismantle colonial land laws and embrace a more respectful understanding of the living Earth. 

脌dhamh 脫 Broin, a friend and colleague dedicated to helping to decolonize the Gaelic people of Scotland through reconnection with Indigenous culture and language, highlights the importance of direct communion with the land. Without an intimate relationship, he argues, authentic advocacy for the land鈥檚 well-being is impossible: 鈥淚f you鈥檙e not on the land and part of the land, then who ultimately speaks for the land?鈥� 

On Mount Owen, we are moving slowly, learning from the land and its original stewards, and building community rooted in respect for Indigenous people and their knowledge. We are working toward a future where the land has been restored its rights and agency鈥攁s well as deep love.

Countering Settler Ecologies

How can we transition from exclusionary, extractive practices to a system that honors Traditional Ecological Knowledge and prioritizes the well-being of Earth? This is one of the questions I posed to Irus Braverman, author of . Her book explains how 鈥渄ispossession of Palestinians in the hands of the Zionist settler state occurs, centrally, in the ecological realm.鈥�&苍产蝉辫; She coined the term 鈥渟ettler ecologies鈥� to describe the oppressive situation, arguing that the territorial reach of Israel鈥檚 nature protection advances the Zionist project of Jewish settlement and the corresponding dispossession of non-Jews from this place.

Just as olive trees embody Palestinian identity and deep connection to place, pine trees represent Jewish claims and settlement expansion.

The environmental damage and confusing arguments surrounding 鈥渘ative鈥� and 鈥渘on-native鈥� species add another layer of devastation. Non-native species are ; some like plantago major provide ecosystem services like improved soil quality, erosion control, habitat, and food sources for wildlife. Plus, a fixation on their potential negative impacts can overshadow other, perhaps greater threats facing native species, like habitat destruction and pollution. Braverman describes how these arguments, mirroring the human struggle for land and belonging, position various creatures鈥攆allow deer, gazelles, wild asses, griffon vultures, pine trees, and cows鈥攁s Israeli 鈥渟oldiers鈥� against their Palestinian counterparts鈥攇oats, camels, olive trees, hybrid goldfinches, and akkoub. 

Just as olive trees embody Palestinian identity and deep connection to place, pine trees represent Jewish claims and settlement expansion. 

The Aleppo pine has become a tool of erasure, obscuring the ruins of Palestinian villages beneath a green veneer. Braverman describes pine forests as being central to the earlier Zionist mission and 鈥渢he imaginary of the European forest.鈥� While the Aleppo pine is native to the Mediterranean region, widespread planting in areas where it was not historically present has led to ecological concerns. The trees鈥� aggressive growth and dominance in certain ecosystems has raised questions about whether it should be classified as . 

To complicate and confuse matters, olive trees are sometimes labeled 鈥渘on-wild,鈥� which in turn legitimizes ecological violence toward them, such as their uprooting from nature reserves, even with evidence that olive tree cultivation dates to the Chalcolithic period (3600鈥�3300 BCE). Where exactly does the timeline for 鈥渨ild鈥� and for 鈥渘ative鈥� begin? More than just crops in Palestine, olive trees are woven into the fabric of the culture. Yet hundreds of thousands of trees have been destroyed in recent decades to make way for Israeli settlements and for the separation wall, threatening livelihoods and the environment. 

When people are distanced from land, they lose the intimate knowledge necessary to be effective stewards.

Throughout the world, this pitting of native and non-native organisms and species harms not only plants and other animals, but also displaced humans seeking refuge in new lands. In a , Charles R. Warren, a professor of environmental management at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, argues such labels are outdated and misleading and that they ignore the dynamic reality of ecosystems while promoting a view of nature as static and unchanging. The focus, as the article suggests, should be on how species interact within the environment, not their origin. He writes, 鈥淭he native/alien paradigm purports to be about flora and fauna, but actually it is all about us鈥攐ur perceptions and preferences about where other species belong and our ethical judgments about how to treat them.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

To Forage Is to Connect

Foraging is one of the many ways people have interacted with their environment for generations. Beyond a means of sustenance, foraging for specific herbs and ingredients represents a cultural connection to the land. Layla K. Feghali, author of , emphasizes this point, stating that ancestral landscapes of the SWANA region in Southwest Asia and North Africa have 鈥渋nspired every aspect of our relationships, rituals, beliefs, and identities.鈥�

But throughout the world, fines and arrests for trespassing sever this vital connection. In the United States, the right to forage began to erode in the mid-19th century, leading to the dispossession of Indigenous peoples and those who lived close to the land. In 1977, Israel enacted laws that criminalized foraging on designated nature reserves. Criminalizing foraging divorces people from local flora, weakening ecosystems and unraveling cultural traditions. And of course, when people are prevented from foraging, they must often buy plants that the earth gives freely; leading to unnecessary economic burdens.

When people are distanced from land, they lose the intimate knowledge necessary to be effective stewards. So how can we navigate this? In spaces we inhabit, how can we protect plants, fungi, and other animals we don鈥檛 know or understand? How will we recognize their absence if we don鈥檛 notice their presence?  

鈥淩ecentering our relationship with the earth can begin to transform the traumatic wounding of colonial ruptures,鈥� Layla K. Feghali writes. 

On Mount Owen we鈥檙e exploring ways to develop a reciprocal stewardship framework that honors the land鈥檚 rights as well as those of humans, who are also part of the ecosystem. Effective stewards know, love, and understand their local ecosystems. That is why my partner and I are working to foster an emotional connection to the land so we don鈥檛 lose sight of whom and what we鈥檙e protecting.

CORRECTION: This article was updated at 10:02 a.m. PT on Oct. 1, 2024, to correct the spelling of 脌dhamh 脫 Broin鈥檚 name. Read our corrections policy here.

The upcoming presidential election will be critical for these growing unions and their workers. The candidates offer contrasting approaches to engaging with organized labor and regulating the world of work. While former president Donald Trump and his running mate, Ohio Senator JD Vance, have tried to fashion themselves as , experts, including those leading some of the nation鈥檚 largest unions, call this rhetoric bogus.

鈥淸We鈥檝e] seen what a prior Trump administration did for workers, like replacing an Obama overtime rule with a less protective version, trying to make it easier for employers to take workers鈥� tips, and making it easier to misclassify employees as independent contractors鈥攖aking away their rights to minimum wage and overtime,鈥� says Rajesh Nayak, a fellow at the Harvard Center for Labor and a Just Economy. 鈥淭hose policies can undermine organizing by making workers feel like the laws are stacked against them.鈥�

Nayak says he expects more of the same anti-worker policies from Trump if he were reelected this November. 鈥淵ou can see it in Project 2025, which promises to undo many of the pro-organizing positions taken by the Biden National Labor Relations Board [NLRB],鈥� he says.

Project 2025, the presidential playbook drawn up by the Heritage Foundation, to which at least contributed, promises to disrupt labor agencies, including the NLRB, a low-profile but high-impact government office tasked with enforcing labor laws in relation to collective bargaining and unfair labor practices. 

President Joe Biden made pro-union appointments at several federal agencies, including the NLRB. Under Biden, the board has that make unionizing easier for workers, including widening the scope of protected organizing activities and implementing a more protective threshold for determining whether employees have been misclassified as independent contractors and are being denied their rights. 

A second Trump administration is expected to reverse this momentum. Project 2025 calls on Trump to fire the NLRB鈥檚 Biden-appointed general counsel after taking office, despite precedent that the general counsel serve the remainder of their four-year term even under a new administration. (Biden was actually the first to break this long-held precedent when he in January 2021, 10 months before Robb鈥檚 term would have ended, to replace him with a candidate who would be less hostile to unions.)

Project 2025 also calls for cutting budgets at labor agencies 鈥渢o the low end of the historical average.鈥� While the NLRB has been stronger under Biden than it was during Trump鈥檚 first term, it still it needs to fulfill its mission. Additional cost-cutting could weaken its enforcement powers further and heighten barriers for workers and unions to seek recourse for unfair labor practices or access other essential support. 

Nayak also expects a second Trump administration to bury unions in paperwork, for example, by reinstating duplicative reporting rules that in 2021. 鈥淧roject 2025 threatens to repeat a long-running anti-union playbook of layering more and more reporting requirements on unions that go well beyond transparency and just serve to slow them down,鈥� he says. 

It鈥檚 not only Project 2025 that promises a hostile approach to workers and unions. Trump offered a grim preview of his labor policies during his first term in office, appointing anti-union officials to labor agencies, rolling back , and selecting the conservative Supreme Court justices who would go on to rule that the nation鈥檚 entire public sector is 鈥渞ight to work.鈥� That decision in made a in the member-fees-based revenue of public sector unions. (Though it should be noted that the ruling has as much as the anti-union firm that argued the case might have hoped.)

If he were reelected, Trump is expected to take aim again at unionized public sector workers. Project 2025 urges the administration to 鈥渃onsider whether public-sector unions are appropriate in the first place鈥� and promises to revive a trio of executive orders that Trump was unable to force through in his first term. The orders would shorten the timeline for unions and agencies to negotiate contracts, reduce the time workers would be allowed to improve their performance before being terminated, and reduce the hours that union representatives are allowed to spend doing union-related activities on government time.

Doreen Greenwald, national president of the National Treasury Employees Union (NTEU), which represents tens of thousands of federal workers across 35 departments and agencies, says these executive orders 鈥渨ere designed to decimate federal employee bargaining rights and the ability of unions to represent them.鈥�

The highest-profile threat that a second Trump administration poses to federal workers is an executive order called . If passed, it would remove civil service protections for many federal employees and reclassify them as at-will appointees who can be fired for any reason. This policy would allow candidates in critical government positions to be hired and fired based on their partisan leanings and willingness to follow orders rather than their qualifications and skill sets.

鈥淭he policy makes it easier for politicians to push bureaucrats to act in ways that allow them to violate the law and undermine the public interest,鈥� explains Donald Moynihan, a professor of public policy at the University of Michigan鈥檚 Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy. 鈥淐ivil servants take an oath to serve the Constitution, but Schedule F would force them to choose between serving that oath and serving whoever occupies the White House,鈥� he continues.

Trump tried implementing Schedule F at the end of his first term in 2020, but it was never fully realized. 鈥淚f Schedule F had been fully implemented in 2020, thousands of employees could have , been fired at will, and replaced with partisan loyalists,鈥� warns Greenwald. 

The policy could have wide-ranging effects far beyond the federal workforce. Many people would experience this in the breakdown of vital government functions that are often taken for granted, such as enforcing food or workplace safety regulations. If qualified experts are forced out of regulating agencies in favor of appointees who are politically aligned with the administration, those agencies will become less competent and less able to deliver results.

Moynihan says Schedule F is a dangerous policy under any administration鈥擠emocrat or Republican. However, under Trump, it carries unique risks. 鈥淭hat is because Trump has shown himself to embrace authoritarian positions, ignoring the rule of law and wanting to use state power to suppress dissent and attack his enemies. With Schedule F, he would be able to do what authoritarians in other countries have done to consolidate his power鈥攑urge the bureaucracy of anyone who opposes democratic backsliding.鈥�

To refuse the hostile anti-worker and anti-democracy policies of a second Trump term, many of the nation鈥檚 largest unions are backing Kamala Harris for president. As soon as she announced her candidacy, Harris gave the keynote address at the . That union and almost every other major union nationwide has . 

The groups aren鈥檛 just opposing Trump, they are also bracing for a potential second Trump term. In July, Gwen Mills, president of Unite Here, which represents workers in the hotel and food service industries, told that she expects her union to be forced to 鈥減lay defense鈥� if Trump is elected. 

For Greenwald of NTEU, the best defense is a good offense. To help protect employees against future implementation of Schedule F, NTEU proposed a new rule reaffirming that employees keep their rights even if they are involuntarily reclassified. The Office of Personnel Management earlier this year. 

NTEU is also renegotiating contracts now to avoid having to do so under a possible Trump administration. 鈥�Our experience from President Trump鈥檚 first term is that his administration did not negotiate in good faith when contracts came open,鈥� Greenwald says. 鈥淚t only makes sense that employees would fare better if there are fully and fairly negotiated contracts in place and not subject to renegotiation during a second possible Trump term.鈥�

Nayak urges other federal employee unions to do the same. He also suggests that all unions and other labor organizations be informed about what the candidates鈥� platforms offer to help their members understand the possible outcomes and make informed decisions at the ballot box.

He offers one silver lining: 鈥淚f President Trump wins this November, he鈥檚 not going to automatically reverse the very real momentum that unions have had in this country. We鈥檝e seen it both in public opinion surveys and on-the-ground organizing activity, and it鈥檚 not going away that easily.鈥� Greenwald agrees, saying union leaders are 鈥減repared to fight鈥� if the next administration is anti-labor.

As both a facilitator and a participant in group experiences, I鈥檝e witnessed firsthand the transformative power of well-held containers. I remember one particularly memorable session when I unintentionally triggered traumatic memories for some participants. That was a wake-up call for me. It underscored the importance of taking people only as far as I鈥檝e gone, and being mindful of my social location and privileges and their potential impact on group dynamics. It reiterated and the need to create resilient and supportive spaces for all, in ways that honor everyone鈥檚 identities and prioritize their well-being.

I鈥檝e also experienced the profound benefits of well-held containers. A guided visualization that asked me to imagine saying final goodbyes to loved ones was particularly transformative. In that session, the facilitators created a sacred space among us participants and gradually increased the risk we took while building trust. This showed me the power of building trustworthy relationships, facilitated rituals, and consensual boundaries in fostering deep exploration and growth.

Creating a transformative container鈥攁 space where magic can unfold and meaningful change can occur鈥攊s something I approach with deep intentionality, wisdom, and an understanding of the principles that guide such a process. For me, it鈥檚 not just about setting the stage; it鈥檚 about cultivating an environment where individuals can safely explore, grow, and transform. Here鈥檚 how I approach this work:

1. Set a Vibe鈥攁nd Keep It Going

The energy I bring to a space sets the tone for everything that follows. Whether through lighting, music, scent, or even the way I greet participants, I am creating an atmosphere that signals what鈥檚 possible. Setting a vibe isn鈥檛 a one-time act; it鈥檚 an ongoing practice throughout the experience. I work to maintain that energy, ensuring that it aligns with the goals of the session, and I adapt as needed to keep everyone in the right headspace and heartspace. For instance, I鈥檝e found that a carefully chosen playlist can guide the emotional flow of a session, from energizing participants at the start to creating moments of introspection and reflection later on.

2. Reveal the Context and Beware of Assumptions

Transparency is critical in creating a container for transformation. I make it a point to reveal the context鈥攚hy we鈥檙e here, what the goals are, what鈥檚 at stake鈥攖o help participants understand the bigger picture and feel more connected to the process. This helps to minimize misunderstandings and assumptions that could lead to tension or disengagement. I strive to be clear about my intentions, the purpose of the session, and any background information that could influence the direction of our work. The more context I provide, the more equipped participants are to engage fully and authentically.

3. Containers Need Boundaries to Be Able to Contain

A container without boundaries can鈥檛 hold the energy, emotions, and transformations that occur within it. I believe boundaries define the space鈥攑hysically, emotionally, and energetically. They create safety by delineating what is acceptable and what is not, allowing participants to explore and take risks within a defined framework. Clear boundaries prevent the container from becoming chaotic or overwhelming, ensuring that the energy within is focused and purposeful.

4. Consent Is Key 

For boundaries to be effective, there must be mutual consent. Everyone involved needs to agree on the rules of engagement. I usually start sessions by co-creating explicit agreements, where participants commit to respecting the space, each other, and the process. This ensures that everyone is on the same page and feels respected, which is essential for maintaining trust and safety within the container. Without consent, boundaries can feel imposed and restrictive rather than supportive and empowering.

5. Face the Tensions in Justice-Loving Ways

Transformation often involves surfacing tensions鈥攗nspoken conflicts, buried emotions, or systemic injustices. I see these tensions not as obstacles but as opportunities for growth and healing. To navigate them effectively, I prepare myself to face them with love, justice, and a commitment to liberation for all. This means creating space for difficult conversations, acknowledging power dynamics, and addressing issues in ways that honor the dignity and humanity of everyone involved. Justice-loving practices ensure that the process of transformation isn鈥檛 just about personal growth but also about collective liberation.

6. Shape Change and Be Changed

I鈥檝e learned that transformation isn鈥檛 a linear process but an emergent one. It evolves as the group evolves, adapting to new insights, challenges, and opportunities. I draw from the principles and elements of emergent strategy, which emphasizes the importance of being responsive and flexible in the face of change. Rather than imposing a rigid plan, I allow the process to unfold organically, shaping change as it happens. This requires me to be open to being changed myself鈥攍earning from the process, adapting my approach, and growing alongside the participants. It鈥檚 about co-creating the path forward, guided by the collective wisdom of the group.

7. Bring Everything and Everyone With You

When I鈥檓 creating a transformative container, I bring all of myself鈥攎y knowledge, experiences, skills, and even my personal quirks. This includes everything from my outfit selection to my playlist, my understanding of feng shui, my knowledge of Indigenous circle practices, and my love of Latin root words. Each element I bring adds richness and depth to the space, making it uniquely mine鈥攁nd uniquely capable of holding the transformation that needs to happen. By bringing everything and everyone with me, I create a space that鈥檚 not only authentic but also inclusive, where every aspect of the self鈥攂oth mine and others鈥欌�攊s welcomed and valued.

8. Be Trustworthy

Trust is the foundation of any transformative container. Participants need to know that they can rely on me to hold the space with integrity, care, and consistency. Being trustworthy means showing up fully, honoring my commitments, and being transparent about my intentions and limitations. It also involves creating an environment where participants can trust each other, fostering a sense of safety and mutual respect. Trust allows participants to take the risks necessary for deep transformation, knowing that they are supported and held throughout the process.

9. Practice Till Presence

Presence is the ability to be fully in the moment, attuned to what is happening within the container. It鈥檚 about listening deeply, observing closely, and responding authentically to the needs of the group. Achieving this level of presence requires practice鈥攃ultivating mindfulness, grounding myself, and honing my ability to stay focused and connected. The more I practice, the more naturally presence will come to me, allowing me to be fully available to the group and the process. Presence is the key to facilitating transformation with grace, fluidity, and impact.

As I reflect on these principles, I encourage you to think about how you can incorporate them into your practice鈥攚hether you鈥檙e creating formal containers for group participation, or informal ones as you build and co-create community. What unique elements do you bring to the table? How can you cultivate a sense of trust, presence, and adaptability in your work? By integrating these principles, we can create containers that not only hold space for transformation but actively foster it, allowing magic to unfold and change to take root in profound and liberating ways.

A forget-me-not wildflower bloomed in the clearing. This is where the Cow Creek Band of Umpqua Tribe of Indians have been restoring their oak savanna meadows, after decades of fire suppression and the removal of large, fire-adapted trees under federal management.

In addition to land they bought from private owners, in 2018, the Tribe received 17,519 acres of land from the U.S. government for the Tribe to manage under its own authority. This came as part of the ; this bipartisan legislation in trust in order to return the restoration of these lands鈥攁nd the related economic activity and job development they created鈥攖o the Cow Creek Umpqua and the Confederated Tribes of Coos, Lower Umpqua, and Siuslaw Indians.

The Cow Creek Umpqua government hired foresters to study the landscape, which was dotted with decades-old Douglas fir stumps from clearcuts. They discovered that before the area had been overtaken by conifers, it was historically an oak savanna meadow, a pocket in the Willamette Valley that stretches the length of the Cascade Mountains and the Oregon Coast Range. This finding matched Tribal elders鈥� stories about a time when game was abundant, and grasses thrived as the tribe practiced cultural burning.

鈥淲e are not living the way that we want to live,鈥� says Jackson, Cow Creek Umpqua member and education coordinator for the tribe. His ancestors, the Nah谩nk拾uotana, moved seasonally between homes in the foothills and in the valley. When leaving their summer camps in the foothills of the Cascades, or Umpqua mountains, they would burn the land before moving down to their winter camps at lower elevations. They did the same when coming back up as the weather warmed. The Nah谩nk拾uotana would return to each place to find healthy soils enriched by the charcoal left from the fire, which came from burned wood and plant debris that acted as a natural fertilizer.

鈥淲e are a burn culture,鈥� Jackson says. 鈥淲e would say that we burned here since time immemorial. Anthropologists or archaeologists would say that we burned here 20,000 to 40,000 years.鈥� In any case, Jackson says, the feds have 鈥渕essed up鈥� that legacy in the past 200 years by not continuing these age-old land practices.

The U.S. Forest Service鈥檚 fire suppression policies began in the early 1900s and to the tribe鈥檚 current struggle with wildfires that burn larger, hotter, and out of control. To reduce this risk鈥攖o both the Tribe and the nearby city of Roseburg, Oregon鈥攁nd to revitalize their cultural resources, Cow Creek Umpqua is blending Western science with traditional ecological knowledge to manage the landscape and safely reintroduce fire. Despite the challenges posed by climate change in finding suitable conditions for burning, outcomes from the managed areas so far are promising.

But to bring fire back, they first needed their land back. 

The Knowledge to Thrive

Despite the historic theft of the Tribe鈥檚 land, many members, like Jackson鈥檚 ancestors, never left. 

When the Treaty of 1853 was signed, the Cow Creek Umpqua viewed it as a government-to-government agreement between two sovereign nations. In exchange for land 鈥渙wnership,鈥� the U.S. government would provide the Tribe with health care, housing, and education. However, the U.S. government didn鈥檛 follow through on its promises. Rather, it claimed more than 500,000 acres of Cow Creek Umpqua鈥檚 land, and while the agreement was to pay the Tribe just $0.02 per acre鈥攁 fraction of the $1.25 per acre the government charged settlers who quickly moved in鈥� they never received even this low sum.

Many people of Cow Creek Umpqua resisted the U.S. government鈥檚 efforts to relocate them to reservations, and instead lived in seclusion. They held onto their culture and continued to hold council meetings as they had for countless generations. 

In 1954, the Cow Creek Umpqua pursued justice with the U.S. government. After being forcibly terminated under the , the Tribe filed a land claims case, resulting in its recognition as a sovereign tribal government and a $1.5 million settlement in the 1980s.

In the following decades, the Tribe started buying its land back. In 2018, the Bureau of Land Management returned around 3% of the Cow Creek Umpqua鈥檚 ancestral lands under the Western Oregon Tribal Fairness Act. It was returned in trust, meaning the federal government holds legal title, but the beneficial interest remains with the Tribe. Elected leaders who supported the passage of the law called it an in righting the injustices toward Indigenous peoples.  

Then, in 2019, a wildfire came through. 

The Milepost 97 wildfire destroyed nearly a fourth of what was returned to the tribe: 3,634 of their 17,519 acres. The fire raged when it reached the burn scar of the 1987 Canyon Mountain wildfire. Years鈥� worth accumulated snags and thick brush prevented firefighters from quickly accessing the area and added dangerous fuel to the flames.

鈥淲hen I first went up there, it was like an atomic bomb had gone off,鈥� Cow Creek Umpqua Chairman Carla Keene this year. 鈥淭he trees were gone. It was just black, and it was just the most depressing sight I鈥檇 ever seen.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The Cow Creek Umpqua Tribal Board of Directors resolved to restore the forest, initiating efforts to salvage and repurpose the charred logs. Today, that lumber is showcased in the construction of the Portland International Airport and the Tribe鈥檚 remodeled government office. These structures display the tribe鈥檚 principle that forests and people are meant to have a hands-on connection. 

鈥淔or people that have not had their voices heard at many tables for a long time, our [Tribal] voice is starting to be heard and starting to be cherished,鈥� Jackson says. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e starting to see Western scientific knowledge and traditional ecological knowledge start to do this, like they should.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

After the fire, the Tribe hired Wade Christensen, an enrolled member of Choctaw Nation, as a forester. He was trained in silviculture鈥攁 practice focused on managing forest health and growth to meet specific land management objectives, such as ecosystem restoration through thinning and burning. He creates detailed maps and work plans focused on cultivating the oak savanna and reducing the conifer monocultures that had been introduced for timber.

To make this happen, Christensen coordinates closely with the Forest Service and neighboring landowners for prescribed burns. Foresters like Christensen refer to it as a 鈥減rescription鈥� because, much like a doctor treating a sick patient, they are writing a plan to restore the land to health. 

Early in his time working for the Tribe, Christensen was following a prescription on land the Tribe had purchased from a timber company. As he began marking trees for removal, he quickly realized the plan didn鈥檛 account for the meadow ecoregion. Within it were Oregon white oak trees, a species with thick bark that can survive fire. Moving forward, he knew he had to adapt. He worked to gain a deeper understanding of the landscape, not only to reduce wildfire risk, but also to promote cultural resources like berries, native grasses, and 鈥媘edicinal plants that flourish in recently burned soil and under an open canopy.

鈥淚鈥檝e got this understanding of the benefits of burning in the forest, and I鈥檓 all in on prescribed burning,鈥� says Christensen, who has a degree from Oregon State University in sustainable forest management, 鈥渁nd I work for a Tribe, so I鈥檓 learning why it is important to the Tribe.鈥澨�

That learning is ongoing. Christensen recalls hearing a speaker at a conference say that he knows to light the trees when the acorns drop: 鈥淚 was like, I am not at that man鈥檚 level.鈥�

Christensen was listening to Frank Lake, a Karuk Tribal descendant and leading research ecologist with the Forest Service鈥檚 Southwest Station, who explores social-ecological frameworks to understand the impact of colonization鈥攍ike fire suppression policies鈥�. Lake鈥檚 research underscores that between federal agencies and tribal nations is essential, something Christensen understands well.

鈥淵ou really got to dig deep with these guys and spend a lot of time with them,鈥� Christensen says. 鈥淚鈥檓 using [fire] for fuels reduction, and hopefully I do things right, and we have other benefits. I am trying to get to where I understand where we can apply it to help a plant that we gather off of, but that takes time, and that takes a lot of conversation.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Healing Cultures and Landscapes

In an era of climate change, government agencies across the U.S. are increasingly recognizing the need to actively apply traditional ecological knowledge to mainstream land management practices鈥攂alancing these institutions鈥� often short-term, extractive values with an intergenerational perspective. 

To mobilize, the National Science Foundation to launch its Center for Braiding Indigenous Knowledge and Sciences last year. The center has set up hubs from the Pacific Islands to the Northeastern United States. 

Leaders in the Land Back Movement have relied on a limited set of policy tools. For example, the Department of the Interior for the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, a similar trust structure that returned land management to Cow Creek Umpqua. There鈥檚 also co-management agreements鈥攍ike Forest Service with tribes in the Midwest and Western states鈥攁nd conservation easements鈥攍ike the one Oakland used to in the hands of the Ohlone people. 

Critics argue that while these actions may return land to tribes, they often do so under federal, state, and municipal terms that in managing their lands.

That鈥檚 where purchasing lands outright comes in鈥攁 strategy the Penobscot Nation used in 2022 when nearly 30,000 acres of private forest lands went up for sale in Maine. The Nation worked with Trust for Public Land, . Trust for Public Land, a nonprofit organization focused on expanding outdoor access, has collaborated with more than 70 tribes and Indigenous groups to help them acquire and preserve their homelands and culturally significant sites. The organization tries to facilitate a tribe or nation鈥檚 right to self-governance. To do so, it has adopted internal policies that don鈥檛 require legal agreements that limit land use to conservation. 

鈥淲hen you impose restrictions or conservation easements or those types of things on the property, then you鈥檙e really not supporting the tribal sovereignty,鈥� says Ken Lucero, director of tribal and indigenous lands at Trust for Public Land. Lucero is a member of the Pueblo of Zia, who historically practiced dry farming and waffle gardening, which harnesses the little bit of rain that falls in the Southwest desert. 

鈥淏y having Indigenous knowledge and land back be at the center of the new definition of conservation, then we have a lot of good things that can come of that,鈥� he says. 鈥淚f we can put land back, land return, and Indigenous knowledge at the center of conservation 鈥� we really can support a global solution to climate warming.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Indigenous peoples are considered by dangerous weather brought on by climate change, though they have contributed the least to the greenhouse gas emissions driving it, according to the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs. Public health researchers stress that climate justice, as exemplified by the Land Back movement, requires addressing the harms of settler-colonialism past and present. 

鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of healing that has to happen,鈥� Jackson says. 鈥淚鈥檓 one of the few that was never ripped off these lands. That鈥檚 why I live here, and why it鈥檚 very special to me.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

In May, Jackson visited an 800-year-old Douglas fir called the Grandmother Tree for the first time since the U.S. government gave the Cow Creek Umpqua back some of their land. The tree is a few miles away from where Christensen and the Tribe鈥檚 forestry team have been restoring the meadows. 

So far, finding a time to burn has been tough. Challenges like climate variability from season to season limit how much they can burn each year. But near the grandmother tree that day, there was a glimpse of what鈥檚 to come. 

Jackson turned to a patch of wild strawberries and pulled out a leafy green that smelled like a mix of eucalyptus and mint. The plant in his hands is native to the Pacific Northwest and commonly known by its Spanish name, yerba buena, which means 鈥済ood herb.鈥� Jackson, whose grandmother Dolla was one of the last medicine women and healers in the Tribe, called it a perfect example of a medicinal plant that returns with fire, growing abundantly in sunlight. 

As Jackson鈥檚 traditional ecological knowledge tells him, this is the kind of growth the landscape will see again as the Cow Creek Umpqua manage fire for open and clear savannas, benefiting the land and people there for generations to come. 

This story was produced in collaboration with . Reporting for this story was made possible with a fellowship from the nonprofit Institute for Journalism and Natural Resources.

CORRECTION: This article was updated at 11:24a.m. PT on Sept. 24, 2024, to clarify that Christensen attended Oregon State University, not University of Oregon. Read our corrections policy here. 

The that started shortly after the debate and continued through the weekend forced evacuations and closures of government buildings, hospitals, a university, and schools in Springfield. Although Trump鈥檚 words have imperiled Haitian immigrants, he has not withdrawn his claim; he has doubled down on it. On Sept. 12, while campaigning, he suggested Haitians had ruined 鈥渂eautiful Springfield鈥� and were not in the city legally, although Ohio Gov. Mike DeWine said . Trump also insinuated the immigrants are involved in sexual violence against 鈥測oung American girls,鈥� continuing his pattern of linking immigration to the  

The targeting of Haitians in the small-town Midwest has led to an outcry of support from the public, policymakers, and immigration advocates. The National Parents Union, a women-led organization made up of parent advocacy groups fighting for equity in education, criticized 鈥渢he reckless and irresponsible comments鈥� from Republican leaders and announced that it 鈥渟tand[s] with the families of Springfield鈥� in a statement on Sept. 13. 

But no one empathizes with Springfield鈥檚 Haitian community like Haitian Americans themselves. The 19th spoke with scholars and immigrant advocates, mostly women of Haitian heritage, about the repercussions of Trump鈥檚 words. They contend that his claim鈥攁nd the hate before and after it鈥攁re nothing new: Due to the unique ways race, religion, and resistance have intersected in Haiti鈥檚 history, immigrants from the Caribbean nation have experienced a specific brand of xenophobia in the United States, even as Black immigrants in this country lack visibility.

鈥淭his kind of narrative has been going on since at least the middle of the 19th century,鈥� said Danielle N. Boaz, professor of Africana Studies at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. 鈥淲e can connect all of this back to the thing that Haitians did that was unforgivable to people of European heritage, which is they had this … rebellion that started in the 1790s and culminated in what historians have sometimes called the only successful slave rebellion in history, where they were able to defeat not only the French but other foreign powers.鈥�

The 1804 creation of Saint-Domingue, later Haiti, left slaveholding societies terrified that the human beings they held in bondage would also rebel. For securing their freedom, Haitians were demonized, with the often used to make wild claims against them, Boaz said.

鈥淪o, over the years, the narrative just kind of increases about how Haiti is this barbaric place,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 run only by Black people.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Trump reinforced the barbarism messaging by implying that Haitians are 鈥渟avage criminal aliens.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Despite Springfield Police denying any 鈥渃redible reports or specific claims鈥� of Haitians abusing animals or committing other crimes, Trump鈥檚 allegations have reverberated nationally. Christopher Rufo, who has led the national push against in schools and is a trustee for the New College of Florida, where hundreds of books on gender and diversity were discarded last month, offered a $5,000 鈥渂ounty鈥� to anyone with evidence of . In Florida and New York鈥攖he states with the largest Haitian American communities鈥� condemned Trump鈥檚 remarks and of Ohio. 

The bomb and shooting threats targeting Haitians disproportionately place pressure on mothers, said Taisha Saintil, senior policy analyst for the UndocuBlack Network, which advocates for Black immigrants. Often children鈥檚 primary caregivers, women rearrange work schedules, stay home, or make childcare plans when schools close, losing household income in the process.

鈥淲omen are often the ones managing the day-to-day fears, picking up and dropping off children, and trying to shield them from the psychological trauma of these threats,鈥� Saintil said. 鈥淭his gender dynamic adds another layer to the stress, as women feel pressure to keep things normal for their families while silently shouldering the weight of their own fear and frustration.鈥�

Having immigrated to Florida from Haiti in 2006 at age 9, Saintil said that she feels for Springfield鈥檚 Haitian community. Before moving to diverse Fort Lauderdale, Florida, she briefly lived in a white community where she said her classmates taunted, spat on her, and called her a cat-eater. 

鈥淚 remember … the fear, waking up every single day knowing that I鈥檓 going to get bullied, nobody wanting to talk to me, sitting at the lunch table by myself,鈥� Saintil said. 鈥淲hen I compare it to what is happening now to the newly arrived kids, I think about just how … the bullying will mark them for the rest of their lives.鈥�

Lured by manufacturing jobs, an estimated 15,000 Haitian immigrants have settled in Springfield鈥攁 mostly white town of just under 60,000 people鈥�. Before then, Springfield experienced an economic downturn caused, in part, by population decline. Then, the immigrants arrived, .

Valerie Lacarte, a senior policy analyst with the Migration Policy Institute鈥檚 U.S. Immigration Policy Program, said that immigrants typically settle in areas because they know they can find reliable employment or their ethnic community already lives there. Springfield wasn鈥檛 previously home to a Haitian community, but state officials reportedly advertised the city鈥檚 livability and jobs, news that attracted migrants.

鈥淵ou have employers who are hiring these people, so from the job-market perspective, that鈥檚 a good thing. You have a match,鈥� Lacarte said. 

But this mutually beneficial development did not prevent tensions, which worsened last year after a Haitian immigrant crashed into a school bus, killing one child, Aiden Clark, and hurting nearly 30 others. Still, Nathan Clark, Aiden鈥檚 father, spoke out at a city commission meeting last week to denounce . Anti-immigrant residents, meanwhile, have complained that Springfield lacks the infrastructure for population growth.

鈥淚t鈥檚 tempting to think the growth of immigrants, that鈥檚 what鈥檚 causing the problems,鈥� said Karthick Ramakrishnan, coauthor of Framing Immigrants: News Coverage, Public Opinion, and Policy and a University of California, Berkeley, researcher. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the politicization of immigrants, and especially in places that have significant Republican voting populations, the scapegoating of immigrants tends to be higher. This is an issue we鈥檝e seen time and again in the American heartland, places that are depopulating, places that are short of workers, that actually benefit from immigrant workers, but you have people … tapping into these national dynamics, when it comes to race and xenophobia, to win elected office.鈥�

Officials must 鈥渂e intentional about social cohesion鈥� to avoid conflict between the longtime residents and the Haitian transplants, said Lacarte, the daughter of Haitian immigrants. It鈥檚 important to make sure that both the U.S.-born and foreign-born community members get the attention and resources needed to grow together as a diverse community.

Longtime residents may misunderstand why people who look and sound different from them are moving in, Lacarte said. They witness the demographic shift, but they don鈥檛 realize these changes can be helpful. Then, bad actors deepen anxieties by spreading disinformation about immigrants. 

鈥淚mmigrants have been not only filling these jobs and helping grow the economy. They have their own demand for goods and services,鈥� Lacarte said. 鈥淭hey send their kids to school. They even, in some cases, create businesses … and that grows the economy.鈥�

During the presidential debate, Trump did not portray foreign-born workers as a positive but as a threat to Americans, accusing . This framing overlooks that immigrants fill jobs the native-born population doesn鈥檛 pursue, Lacarte said, and that more workers are needed as birth rates decline and the white population ages. It also belies the fact that Black immigrants exist. 

About , the Pew Research Center reported in 2022. Africans have driven Black immigrant growth; their population increased by 246% between 2000 and 2019. In 2005, The New York Times reported that than at any time since the . Today, Africans make up 42% of the Black foreign-born population, while Caribbean immigrants make up 46%. Of the latter, most come from two countries: Jamaica and Haiti. 

After in Del Rio, Texas, went viral in 2021, Saintil said she received multiple messages disclosing, 鈥淚 did not know there were Black immigrants. Where did they come from?鈥� She assumed, due to her profession, that people knew the United States had Black immigrants.

鈥淢ost of my work now has been to raise visibility of Haitian and Black immigrants,鈥� Saintil said. 鈥淲e鈥檙e the most detained, the most placed in solitary confinement. Our bail bonds are higher. So, the same things that are happening to African Americans in the criminal justice system are happening to Black immigrants in the detention center. Our asylum claims are the most denied because immigration judges don鈥檛 trust our pain.鈥�

Long before the debate, Trump disparaged Black immigrants. In 2017, he reportedly said that   The following year, he labeled Haiti, African nations, and El Salvador 鈥�.鈥� In Springfield, local Republicans have echoed Trump鈥檚 remarks. In addition to the pet-eating allegations, they鈥檝e accused immigrants of being in gangs, spreading disease, and practicing 鈥渧oodoo鈥� rituals, claims police have denied.

As Haiti became the yardstick for measuring whether Black people could participate in society equally, attacks on its character escalated. By the 1880s, stories spread about Haitians engaging in cannibalism and human sacrifice, especially of white children, Boaz said. Told repeatedly, these stories inform the rumors about Haitians in Springfield today, and they may jeopardize women.

鈥淗istorically, women in marginalized communities, whether immigrants, ethnic minorities, or refugees, have been specifically targeted for intimidation,鈥� Saintil said. 鈥淭his may be because some view them as 鈥榚asier鈥� to attack or harass than men. … In this context, when Haitian women are being targeted for threats, harassment, or even racial slurs in public spaces, the consequences are far-reaching. This not only creates an atmosphere of terror for women but can also ripple through the entire family.鈥�

Haitian American anthropologist Gina Athena Ulysse, a professor of humanities at the University of California, Santa Cruz, said that she鈥檚 tired of defending her personhood and identity. Following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, Ulysse wrote a book called because she found the dehumanizing remarks about Haitians then disturbing. 

鈥淲e鈥檙e always having to refute as opposed to having an identity that is an affirmed one,鈥� Ulysse said. 鈥淭here is a profound disappointment that in 2024 that I am listening to someone who is running to be the president of the highest nation in the land say something this surreal, this absurd. But I鈥檓 also someone as a Black woman, as a social scientist, as someone who understands race and racial construction, [knows] what that is meant to do, and that is to paint Haitians as the ultimate 鈥榦thers,鈥� cannibalists, and otherwise, so that it can keep fueling this narrative that鈥檚 necessary to strip people of their humanity.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Ulysse said that the broader immigrant community faces xenophobia, too. One study concluded that the level of today rivals , a period that restricted Chinese immigration. Chinese immigrants have also been accused of consuming dogs and cats, insults revived during the onset of COVID-19, which Trump called the 鈥淐hina virus.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淗e鈥檚 gone from talking about Mexican immigrants as predominantly being criminals and rapists to then talking about immigrants as vectors of disease and now using similar kinds of dehumanizing language to talk about … not just what they eat, but the kind of the social threat they supposedly pose to American society,鈥� Ramakrishnan said. 鈥淚 think the kinds of emotions it鈥檚 supposed to evoke are emotions of disgust, of othering and reduced empathy, and also support for drastic measures like rounding up and deporting people who are not deemed to be American.鈥�

If Harris becomes president, she would not only be the first woman in the Oval Office but also the first person of South Asian and Caribbean heritage. Might that change perceptions and policies related to Caribbean immigrants? 

鈥淣o matter how well-meaning one person may be, they鈥檙e part of a social structure and a system that makes decisions,鈥� Ulysse said. 鈥淪he鈥檚 not going to make decisions by herself, so what difference does it make that she鈥檚 from the Caribbean? She鈥檚 got advisors. She鈥檚 got to think about Congress. She鈥檚 got to think about the Senate. She鈥檚 got to think about geopolitics and history.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

When Trump took aim at Haitian immigrants during the debate, Harris laughed in apparent disbelief but did not rebuke him. Ulysse finds it disturbing that many people laughed at Trump鈥檚 claims because, as absurd as they are, they鈥檙e endangering Haitians. 

On Friday, President Joe Biden called the attacks on Haitians 鈥�simply wrong,鈥� noting that White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre is 鈥渁 proud Haitian American.鈥�

Along with being terrified and traumatized, Saintil said the Haitian children and parents impacted by the threats and smears likely feel betrayed. 

鈥淵ou鈥檙e getting it from a country that you thought you could be safe in,鈥� she said. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e getting it in a country that you鈥檝e been hoping to be in because you thought your life would be better, but now you鈥檙e being treated worse than dirt. You鈥檙e being called a savage. … How do you go on from there?鈥�

This story was originally published by and is reprinted here under a Creative Commons license.

self-portrait as the ocean or Fofie鈥檚 wisdom听

study the tides of
the ocean shored by your skin 
each ripple each wave

know not all water 
is meant to quench dry throats or
to be waded through

know not everything 
that is left in the waters 
is an offering

reminders for my (impatient) selves听

don鈥檛 force what won鈥檛 come
what is for you is either
coming or waiting

closed mouths (and full ones)听don鈥檛 get fed

ask for what you need
ready yourself to receive
as well as release

a lesson learned from June听

i been wrong…and still
wrong ain鈥檛 never been my name
pronounce me correct

pronounce me (w)hol(l)y
won鈥檛 answer to all i鈥檓 called
act accordingly

train your timid tongues
sound out all my syllables
i been a mouthful

you are your own听

because you were both 
the cost and the one who paid
a terrible price

But even as she galvanizes this new wave of political energy, . The ongoing U.S.-backed Israeli genocide remains a focal point for young liberals, presenting a challenge that Harris will have to navigate, both on the campaign trail and, if elected, in the Oval Office. Furthermore, many are looking for her policy specifics, beyond TikTok memes.

From the start, Harris鈥� campaign ignited a wave of political engagement, particularly among young voters. The launch of her campaign led to a notable surge in voter registrations in Maine, a state where  according to the Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement鈥檚 . In July alone, signed up to vote鈥攖he largest number since November 2023. Nationwide, the impact was even more stark; to vote in the two days after Biden dropped out, representing a staggering 700% spike. More than 80% of these new registrations were among people between the ages of 18 and 34.

Lauren Barton, a 19-year-old from Tennessee, shares, 鈥淥ne of my friends is especially excited. She was going to register to vote, and I feel like this finally pushed her into doing it.鈥� Daijah Wilson, also 19 and from New Jersey, spent this summer registering voters. 鈥淎 lot of my family members were not going to vote because they felt like it was the same thing again鈥攍esser of two evils,鈥� she said. 鈥淣ow that Kamala is running, I know a couple of my cousins who have registered to vote, and they said they keep encouraging their friends to vote. … People who were on the fence are now jumping off the fence.鈥�

Suraj Singreddy, a 20-year-old from Georgia, another state that YESI identified as a key battleground where young voters could significantly influence the 2024 presidential race, expressed that a common frustration had been the redundancy of Trump against a moderate white Democrat. 鈥淚 think in 2016 and 2020 people were tired of being told, 鈥極h, wait for the next election cycle; there鈥檒l be better [candidates] available,鈥� and then that constantly not being the case.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The fact that Kamala represents something new鈥攁t least, on the surface鈥攊s exciting. Claire Sorge, a student at the Hawai鈥榠 Conservatory of Acting, shares, 鈥淚鈥檓 glad it鈥檚 a woman of color. I鈥檓 glad it鈥檚 not an old white man.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

But Barton brings up that 鈥渢here鈥檚 obviously the huge elephant in the room鈥攈er stance on the genocide in Palestine … [but] the idea of our first female president is exciting.鈥�

For young Americans of color, the fact that Harris is multiracial is Wilson, who is Black, planned to vote third party when Biden was on the ticket because of his ceaseless support of Israel, but now plans to vote for Harris. She explains, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 think representation is our savior, but it is a move towards progress to see a woman, a Black woman, a multiracial woman, lead this country and be the face of America for the next four years.鈥�

Another break from the democratic electoral monotony of the past several years is simply that Harris is fun in a way Biden and Hillary never were. Whether she鈥檚 soliloquizing on or proclaiming , .鈥� Singreddy believes Harris is finally a candidate with a magnetism that can rival Trump鈥檚. 鈥淭rump is entertaining, but in a way that makes you go, 鈥楿h… .鈥� Harris has just been so unintentionally funny … it makes her seem genuine.鈥�

鈥淧eople are going to vote for the president that they鈥檇 want to sit down in a bar with and share a drink with,鈥� he adds. 

and the creative team behind Harris鈥� hugely popular TikTok account, , which constantly churns out clever content, have captured Gen Z鈥檚 spirit of 鈥渂rat summer.鈥�

Barton explains, 鈥淪he鈥檚 very relevant right now in all of the [TikTok] audios and the memes.鈥� While Barton characterizes young voters鈥� enjoyment of such s as partially a humor-based coping mechanism for the fact that Harris鈥� policies are not ideal, she acknowledges it is genuinely appealing. 

Wilson adds, 鈥淭rump has a hold on Twitter/X. I feel like Kamala or her team has tried to strategize by taking over the app that actually has a lot more [young voters].鈥� Referring to how Harris鈥� TikTok videos humanize her, she points out, 鈥淲e want to see that; it鈥檚 about looking past the facade of the politician.鈥�

On the other hand, Harris risks infantilizing and alienating her young voter base if she doesn鈥檛 offer them something more substantive to hold on to. Some already feel that relying too much on internet trends and memes could 鈥淚 feel like it could very quickly turn and become too much, in the same way that 鈥樷�� did in 2016,鈥� Singreddy says. 

Singreddy also feels that because Harris and her campaign have focused on pushing mostly vibes in their messaging to young voters, it is unclear what Harris鈥� actual policies are. 鈥淩ight now, I鈥檓 in a place where my interest is piqued, but I still don鈥檛 understand exactly who I鈥檓 voting for or what her policies are. … I just wonder how she鈥檚 going to get that out to people because it鈥檚 not as easy as viral trends and memes,鈥� he adds.

Unfortunately for Harris, the issue that young voters seem most aware of is the situation in Palestine and Israel. Wilson, Sorge, Barton, and Singreddy all cite her role in the current administration and its involvement in the ongoing as a significant deterrent in voting for her. 

Additionally, when Singreddy thinks about the policies he would like to see, he says, 鈥淔irst and foremost, it is trying to negotiate a cease-fire in Gaza. After that, it鈥檚 the status quo Democrat [policies]: protecting the right to abortion, health care, and general stuff.鈥� Wilson adds that even while she plans on voting for Harris, she will continue attending protests and rallies to push for a cease-fire. 

Harris can鈥檛 take her , and there is a concern that she 鈥淜amala has a chance [at winning the election], but only if younger people vote for her,鈥� Sorge says.

For nearly two centuries, working-class, pan-Asian immigrants were the majority of migrants coming to the Western Hemisphere: , , , and in California and the Southwest, or the indentured servants in British South American and Caribbean colonies. These were all poor, working-class immigrants from across the Asian continent. 

Working-class, pan-Asian communities have historically been integrated and in solidarity with Black and Brown communities. For example, in , , and the , South Asian migrant workers integrated into Puerto Rican, Dominican, Black, and Mexican families and communities for protection against white supremacist violence and economic exploitation.

In California in the 1970s, Chinese immigrant students and families fought alongside Latine families for language access in public schools, which resulted in a favorable . 

Japanese and Filipinx farmworkers fought side-by-side with Mexican farmworkers in the .

Southeast Asians and settled in largely Black, Puerto Rican, and Mexican communities in Massachusetts, New York, California, Wisconsin, Louisiana, and Minnesota, forming shared struggles around equitable education access. 

This is a very different reality than the that pan-Asian communities include mostly wealthy business owners, doctors, and engineers who are actively working to assimilate into whiteness. White Americans, particularly within academia and mass media, have perpetuated the model minority myth to weaken the organizing for racial and economic justice by Black and Brown communities and create further roadblocks for working-class Asian people to contribute to those struggles. 

The Current Political Moment

We are experiencing the in white supremacist, Zionist, and Christian nationalist forces in decades. These forces are joined by multiple Asian right-wing forces emerging internally from our own pan-Asian communities, such as the Chinese American Right and South Asian Hindutva (Hindu supremacists). More and more, for right-wing forces across the U.S. in a multitude of contentious political issues. Despite Asian communities鈥� long histories of working-class and multiracial solidarity, these Asian right-wing forces have a dominating influence on public narratives about pan-Asian communities. While Asian conservatism in the U.S. has long existed, groups like the and have become more effective in how they organize and mobilize Asian communities and more strategic in how they create powerful alliances with white supremacist, Christian nationalist, and Zionist agendas. 

There are many examples of these strategic allyships across the nation. White supremacist groups convinced Chinese American plaintiffs to join their Supreme Court case to . In California, Hindu supremacists have pushed for the , and throughout the state. Christian nationalists have recruited conservative Asian faith-based groups to . Wealthy Asian landlords have worked alongside corporate real estate lobbyists to . Most recently, Hindu nationalists both and . have made public their deep ideological and political alliances with Zionist forces in Israel.

The growth of these proto-fascist movements has serious consequences for all people in the U.S., regardless of race, ethnic background, and class, but the connecting line is clear: The most systems-marginalized, the most poor and working-class parts of all our communities are most negatively impacted while also being misinformed and recruited by right-wing formations.听

White supremacists, Christian nationalists, and Zionists are once again using pan-Asian communities as the driving wedge against social justice movements, making it more difficult to retain historical, hard-earned, progressive wins. This is once again creating division and hindering progressive organizing and multiracial solidarity. We are the co-directors of (GAR), a national network of 34 grassroots organizations rooted in working-class, pan-Asian immigrant and refugee communities. Our member organizers are directly dealing with the ramifications of the right-wing鈥檚 growing power. We know that if we want to win the material changes our communities need and deserve, we need to build a movement powerful enough to make justice inevitable.

To deepen our collective understanding about the growing contingents of right-wing forces within Asian and Asian American communities, GAR has facilitated to share their experiences. Through this, we uncovered the vast infrastructures of right-wing forces and seen how far their influences have reached within Asian communities. Many organizers raised concerns about the prevalence of right-wing ideas in our communities through in-language content, local ethnic media, and cultural and religious community spaces. These are the spaces that many people flock to in order to build relationships and have a strong sense of belonging.  

According to Pew Research Center, Asians are predicted to be the largest immigrant group in the U.S. by 2055, surpassing the size of the Latine population. Working-class, pan-Asian communities are rapidly growing in critical battleground states such as Michigan, Georgia, Texas, Virginia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and North Carolina. Various right-wing forces have already begun organizing in working-class, pan-Asian communities, including Christian nationalists from Asian churches, temples, and mosques and the Republican Party in ethnic enclaves with the hopes of swaying elections.

There are few grassroots organizing groups made up of directly impacted people leading and directing the work of providing social services or engaging in advocacy and policy in pan-Asian communities. This void is currently being peddling a proto-fascist agenda. 

Organizing is the clearest and most consistent tool we have at our disposal to change this dynamic, that has had the least investment. The ecosystem for community organizing in working-class, pan-Asian communities has to grow and meet the needs of the demographic trends across the U.S. Otherwise, we are left responding to one crisis after another, and with weak infrastructure for leaderful and powerful movements. 

If we want to build a multiracial democracy, which is needed now more than ever, our movements must that addresses working-class, pan-Asian issues. In fight after fight, we are witnessing the use of pan-Asian communities to advance right-wing and proto-fascist agendas. Building shared working-class interests is how we can build unified fronts for a multiracial democracy. If we don鈥檛, progressive causes will continue to lose. 

As a network, GAR is committed to nationally uniting local organizations to grow our capacity to effectively organize working-class, pan-Asian communities. This includes for in-language political education to raise political consciousness; strong, local organizations committed to building working-class membership bases; and political and strategy alignment in working-class pan-Asian communities. 

Asian Americans have a history of working-class struggles, anti-war movements, solidarity, and powerful organizing. With Asian communities growing across the U.S., we must remember our history of organizing for working-class interests and solidarity, and return to the roots of our working-class, migrant, pan-Asian communities. We must take continued action in the current political moment we find ourselves in. 

Our ancestors grounded themselves in their working-class interests when they built meaningful relationships and mutual solidarity with Black and Brown working-class communities and won important racial, immigrant, education, and economic protections that we all continue to benefit from. Let鈥檚 remember and continue this legacy. 

Maali鈥檚 family comes from the occupied West Bank. She says, 鈥淢y father is older than Palestine,鈥� when it was partitioned by the United Nations in 1948. Wearing a long keffiyeh-patterned dress that skimmed the grass, Maali was joined by several friends waving Palestinian flags and holding up posters denouncing President Joe Biden as 鈥淕enocide Joe.鈥� They were among 3,000 demonstrators that drew heavily from Chicago鈥檚 鈥�,鈥� the largest Palestinian community in the country.

When asked how the movement for Gaza could pressure Democrats and presidential nominee Kamala Harris to end the Israeli genocide, Maali says, 鈥淗old out our votes.鈥� She asks, 鈥淲hat else do we have besides our votes? That is our only power.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Nearby was Satnaam Singh Mago, who wore a T-shirt with a T. rex grasping a Palestinian flag. Like Maali, Mago has voted for Democrats faithfully all his life. Now, however, he rejects the idea of 鈥渢he lesser of two evils鈥� and 鈥渧oting based on fear.鈥� But he is also hopeful. 鈥淲e have the power to change an election. 鈥� What we are trying to tell Kamala Harris is you have to earn our vote.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

I interviewed a couple dozen people the week of the DNC and asked protesters about pressing issues like abortion rights, Project 2025, and the dangers of a second Trump presidency. Almost all protesters told me things like, 鈥淕enocide isn鈥檛 a single issue, it鈥檚 the only issue,鈥� 鈥淚 can鈥檛 vote for genocide,鈥� and 鈥淭rump is worse on some things, but there is nothing worse than genocide.鈥�

The protesters reflected my own thoughts. We have real power. The more voters declare, 鈥淣o arms embargo, no vote,鈥� the more pressure it puts on Harris to capitulate to our demands ahead of the election on November 5. 

Let鈥檚 not kid ourselves. Harris supports the genocide of Palestinians. On four high-profile occasions she has declared, 鈥淚srael has a right to defend itself鈥�: after with Benjamin Netanyahu in July, during , during , and , when she also reiterated the widely debunked claim that mass rape was committed by Hamas during its attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023. American politicians have long  In the context of Israel wiping out Gaza in the name of 鈥渄efending鈥� itself from Hamas, that phrase is a dog whistle for genocide.

It鈥檚 hard to accept that we are complicit in genocide. It鈥檚 easier to say that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is to blame, that we are not responsible, that Biden cannot end arms transfers with a phone call, that Harris will end them after she is elected.  It鈥檚 also easier to treat genocide as a transactional issue: Gaza is bad, but the threat to abortion rights and democracy and Project 2025 are bigger risks. Or, Trump will enact a worse genocide in Gaza.

We need to hear other perspectives. Outside the DNC I talked to one woman, who didn鈥檛 want to give her name, who told me she had lost more than a hundred relatives in Gaza to Israel鈥檚 attacks. She said, 鈥淓very morning I wake up in anguish. I don鈥檛 know who survived last night. Many days I can鈥檛 get in touch with anyone. I have cousins whose families have been wiped out. One aunt is in a wheelchair with a heart condition. A cousin has diabetes and can鈥檛 get medicine. They鈥檙e dying.鈥� She burst out crying while speaking to me.

Can we honestly tell her to vote for the party slaughtering her family? Why is it that we won鈥檛 save her from a violent America, but we expect her to save us from a different face of that same violence? If this was happening to you, would you be telling people to vote for the party wiping out everyone who knew and loved?

In Chicago, protesters showed us what solidarity looks like. It means seeing the world through the eyes of the people you are supporting, and to work to achieve their goals. Palestinians are being crushed by the American empire. We benefit from the empire in terms of wealth, power, jobs, and lower-cost goods and resources. Solidarity means putting the needs of oppressed peoples before our own.

The defeat of the American empire by the Vietnamese inspired international solidarity movements of all types. A mass movement of Americans in solidarity with the people of Central America  Reagan from invading Nicaragua. The anti-apartheid movement helped bring down the brutal Afrikaner regime in South Africa. 

Now we need to be in solidarity with Palestine and say, 鈥淓nd the genocide immediately.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Genocide is the worst political act possible: the extermination of an entire people. 鈥淣ever again鈥� does not mean 鈥渘ever again except for Palestinians.鈥� If we think we can鈥檛 stop this, then we are nihilists. We are saying politics is useless.

It starts with hope. Student protesters for Gaza last spring had a rock-solid conviction they could force universities to divest from Israel. While have divested so far (it is always a trickle before it is a flood), the protests worked. They triggered an of and , , and that have made Israel an . With students returning for the fall, pro-Palestine protests are despite universities new methods to free speech and assembly. 

By continuously emphasizing ironclad support for Israel, Harris is revealing that support is actually fragile. This gives us an opening to force her to earn our vote by making it contingent on an arms embargo and an end to the genocide. This is hardball politics. It鈥檚 what billionaires do. They cut million-dollar checks to candidates and demand much more in return. Harris recently to from billionaires to drop a proposed tax on the ultrawealthy.

We have something more precious than dollars. There are horrified by the genocide and who want it to end immediately. But many of us are scared to use our power. Right before the DNC, of nearly in Arizona, Georgia, and Pennsylvania. It found that 34% or more of voters in those states would be likelier to support Harris if there was a permanent cease-fire or an arms embargo on Israel.

In Chicago, a protester named Chris, a member of the Starbucks Workers United union, says, 鈥淚t鈥檚 a genocide happening in real time, and people don鈥檛 want to call it that.鈥� Still, he plans to vote for Harris, saying, 鈥淚 will make sure to hold her accountable the whole time she鈥檚 in office.鈥� When asked how he can hold Harris accountable after the election, Chris says, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know. It鈥檚 tough.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This is the problem. Instead of using our power over the Democrats before the election, when it is most potent, we surrender to them. It鈥檚 because they have perfected a formula to terrorize us. Every four years they hold a gun to our heads and say, 鈥淭he world will end if you don鈥檛 elect us.鈥� The name on the gun changes鈥擥oldwater, Nixon, Reagan, Bush 1 and 2, McCain, Romney, and Trump鈥攂ut the threat remains the same.

The Democrats have trapped us. We vote them in. But then not only do we get nothing in return, they do the dirty work of Republicans. And we ignore it.

This strategy was honed during the 1964 campaign with the infamous 鈥�.鈥� The commercial shows a little blonde girl plucking petals off a flower as she counts. She freezes as a loudspeaker at a test site starts counting down. A thermonuclear blast fills the screen, and President Lyndon Johnson intones, 鈥淭hese are the stakes. To make a world in which all of God鈥檚 children can live. Or to go into the dark. We must either love each other. Or we must die.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Subtle, it wasn鈥檛. Johnson was saying a vote for Barry Goldwater was a vote for annihilation, and that he, in contrast, was the candidate of love. Except exactly one month before the ad aired, Congress handed Johnson a for a U.S. war that eventually killed 5 million people in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. 

They have been using this trick for 60 years. Democrats have us so terrified of the right that we will sign off on any atrocity as long as Team Blue does it. Bill Clinton , Obama supersized the war on terror, and Biden is to blame for the Gaza genocide, not Trump. 

Democrats have sat in the White House for 20 of the past 32 years. They Wall Street, after it blew up the economy, and criminal bankers from prosecution. Democrats climate change accords and a historic and boom that has baked in climate catastrophe. They , passed , the far right to the courts, mass incarceration, the 鈥渕ost intrusive surveillance apparatus in the world,鈥� and a massive immigration prison system.

Harris promises more of the same: more border cruelty, more global warming, more genocide. More of the same threats we hear every election: 鈥淭his election 鈥� is the most important of our lives.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Instead we should beware that Gaza is a threat of genocides to come.

I have reported from border cities such as Tijuana and Matamoros that have become killing fields as a result of our policies that have spawned brutal wars, criminal cartels, and climate chaos. By 2050 climate refugees could number 1.2 billion, according to . Harris鈥� vow to be 鈥溾�� than Trump on the border means more violence, deaths, and racism. Ratcheting up anti-immigrant policies as their numbers increase could bring genocide to our borders.

We cannot throw 90% of humanity under the bus. If we don鈥檛 end the razing of Gaza, we will throw open the gates of hell. Genocide is like COVID-19 and climate change: Borders won鈥檛 stop it. 

We can succumb to defeatism and believe Harris will never agree to an arms embargo and permanent cease-fire. 

Or we can remember that every movement that has made the world better鈥攍abor, the abolition of slavery, women鈥檚 suffrage, LGBTQ rights鈥攈ad an absolute belief they would win. They refused compromises, half measures, and surrendering. 

There can be no compromise in the fight for Palestine. If not now, when?

This article is part of U.S. Democracy Day, a nationwide collaborative on Sept. 15, the International Day of Democracy, in which news organizations cover how democracy works and the threats it faces. To learn more, visit听.

What she was looking for wasn鈥檛 an accountability process for her abusive ex-boyfriend, however, but a means of addressing the trust broken by her friends who didn鈥檛 believe that the abuse was real.

Space for Change is a collaborative program that aims to hold community members accountable for domestic violence, provide education to prevent future violence, and offer healing circles that bring the survivor together with loved ones who were not supportive when the survivor needed them. It was this last option that Trixie needed.

Trixie鈥檚 case is not a rare phenomenon. Because social isolation is such a common side effect of domestic violence, and because loneliness is one of the most cited reasons why people end up returning to unsafe relationships, we advocates saw a great need for ways to heal the harm that can ripple out from these situations. Often, friends and family who don鈥檛 believe survivors, who side with the abuser, or who walk away when they are needed most can lead the survivor to feel like they do not have the emotional or logistical support to leave the relationship.

Several of Trixie鈥檚 friends didn鈥檛 believe her when she first told them about the abuse in the relationship. She was 鈥渏ust overreacting,鈥� they said. Her boyfriend was 鈥渟uch a great guy.鈥� 鈥淗ow could he be responsible for the things she claimed he was doing?鈥� they asked.

Now that she was out of the relationship鈥攁nd without any support from those friends鈥攕he wanted to know if there could be a way to salvage those friendships, or if she should give them up as a casualty to the abuse so that she could move on.

How to Set Up a Healing Circle

Our Space for Change program is a collaboration between our domestic violence organization and the Conflict Resolution Center of Santa Cruz County, another local nonprofit. Using restorative justice approaches to domestic violence is relatively new for social service nonprofits, so we鈥檝e found that having our domestic violence advocates work alongside experienced mediators in general restorative justice programs, neighborhood courts, and juvenile re-entry programs is an effective partnership. Each organization is able to fill in the gaps of the other鈥檚 knowledge and skill sets.

Space for Change offers three avenues for restorative justice that participants can choose from: a community accountability process for the person who caused domestic violence, which is common in many restorative justice programs; community education, which aims to teach allies and loved ones of survivors about the dynamics of domestic violence so that they can be safer, more effective support people for their survivor; and healing circles.

When setting up a healing circle like Trixie鈥檚, there鈥檚 a lot of initial work from the service providers long before any meetings take place. Either a mediator or an advocate meets individually with the people involved to see where that person stands in regard to the situation at hand. Does everyone have the same understanding of what occurred? The timeline of events? The material facts of the case, setting aside personal emotions and interpretations about those events? A Walnut Avenue advocate might also be present at some or all of the meetings to address domestic-violence-specific concerns, such as correcting a misunderstanding about coercive control or offering peer emotional support for a moment of processing.

The purpose of so much work prior to actual group conversations is to gauge each person鈥檚 willingness to participate, their openness to having their perspective challenged, and whether their goal for a facilitated conversation (or series of conversations) is something both realistic and within our scope of service. Otherwise, we run the risk of inviting people with conflicting needs and agendas into a space where judgment, defensiveness, victim blaming, and re-traumatization are high possibilities.

A Path Forward

Trixie鈥檚 case is still ongoing. Unfortunately, some of her friends have chosen to side with her ex-boyfriend, and although it鈥檚 been painful for Trixie, she鈥檚 also expressed relief that at least she doesn鈥檛 have to wonder about those friendships anymore. She can grieve them and, eventually, move on. Other friendships appear to be salvageable, with time and careful communication. Although she has not found everything she鈥檇 hoped for, Trixie has expressed gratitude for the healing circle and how it has helped her clarify what she needs to receive from her loved ones to move forward and identify which people she wants involved in that healing process.

In crisis intervention, our focus is on the survivor and the person causing harm, and rightfully so. But this view doesn鈥檛 include the ways in which domestic violence ripples out into those two people鈥檚 family, friends, and community鈥攁nd this is where restorative justice could be one of the most useful tools we have for addressing the casualties of other relationships, mitigating isolation of the survivor and encouraging accountability for the person who caused harm.

I鈥檝e found restorative justice to be one of the most challenging approaches to domestic violence, but also the most rewarding when the people involved are participating with genuine desire to find a path forward. It allows personal autonomy and a tailored approach to justice that historically has not been a common experience with the legal system. This allows survivors, families, and communities to strengthen their own relationships together. I鈥檝e been honored to be a part of that process with survivors like Trixie.

This story was by , and is reprinted here with permission.

Harris walked directly up to Trump, extended her hand, and leaned in, even after it was clear that he had no intention of greeting her. In introducing herself, Harris pronounced her name, 鈥淐OMMA-LA,鈥� clearly and correctly, leaving him no excuses to ever mispronounce it again.听

Harris was confident, in control, and in command of the night.听

Gender dynamics were on display for much of the high-stakes debate, which Trump spent showing and telling his brand of masculinity to voters. He was divisive, demeaning, and distracting, much of his behavior a reminder of his four years in office and his continued words and actions on the campaign trail. During most of the 90-minute exchange, he ignored the two Black women on stage鈥攁voiding eye contact with Harris and rarely addressing moderator Linsey Davis鈥攊ntentionally choosing to largely engage the only other white man present, moderator David Muir.听

When Harris addressed Trump, she referred to him respectfully as 鈥渢he former president.鈥� But at no point did he address Harris by her first or last name, nor by her title. Instead, Trump made frequent references to 鈥渉er boss鈥� when mentioning President Joe Biden in an effort to diminish Harris鈥� leadership and agency. 

The candidates鈥� microphones were muted while their opponents spoke, a rule set when Biden was the candidate and one that Harris unsuccessfully fought to reverse. But her facial expressions, ranging from exhausted to incredulous to amused, did the talking as an often scowling Trump made various false statements on , , and his repeated claim that he won the 2020 election.听

He tried to control the stage鈥攁nd at times attempted to dominate Harris. 鈥淚鈥檓 talking now, if you don鈥檛 mind, please. Does that sound familiar?鈥� Trump said sarcastically at one point when Harris attempted to interject, referencing Harris saying 鈥淚鈥檓 speaking鈥� to Vice President Mike Pence in a 2020 debate after he tried to interrupt her. Toward the end of the debate, Trump essentially tried to shush her again, simply saying, 鈥淨uiet, please,鈥� during an answer on how he would handle the war on Russia. 

There was also no live audience at the debate, but the audience Harris was speaking to was clear. She had two goals on Tuesday: to speak directly to voters who may just be learning about her candidacy, which is still barely 50 days old, and to expose Trump to viewers, reminding them of his temperament and tone.

She did both with a smile and a laugh, which he has also ridiculed, while using Trump鈥檚 own tactics to draw him out. When asked a question about immigration鈥攁 thorny issue for her as vice president鈥擧arris鈥� response quickly shifted the subject from one that inflames voters to one that inflamed Trump: his rallies, and in particular, the implication that his crowds are starting to dwindle. 

鈥淗e鈥檚 going to talk about immigration a lot tonight even when it鈥檚 not the subject that is being raised,鈥� Harris said before proceeding to change the topic herself.

鈥淚鈥檓 going to invite you to attend one of Donald Trump鈥檚 rallies, because it鈥檚 a really interesting thing to watch,鈥� Harris said. 鈥淲hat you will also notice is that people start leaving his rallies early out of exhaustion and boredom. And I will tell you, the one thing you will not hear him talk about is you.鈥�

Instead of responding to Harris鈥� claims that Trump intentionally sabotaged federal legislation to reform immigration or attacking her record on the issue, before repeating a bizarre, racist, and false claim that Haitian immigrants are eating pets in small-town communities across the country. Contrast shown. 

Heading into Tuesday night, Trump had referred to his opponent as 鈥渃razy,鈥� 鈥渄umb,鈥� 鈥渃rooked,鈥� a liar, 鈥済rossly incompetent,鈥� 鈥渓ow IQ,鈥� and 鈥渨eak.鈥� While it was initially unclear whether he would show his contempt for Harris on stage, he was ultimately unable to resist.听

By the end of the night, Harris shut down every stereotype he has tried to pin on her. When he doubled down on questioning her Blackness, Harris pointed to the response as part of a stale playbook rooted in racism and sexism that should be a relic of our politics. 

Ahead of the debate, Trump insisted on Truth Social that 鈥渘o boxes or artificial lifts鈥� be allowed during the debate for the shorter Harris, implying that to do so would be a form of cheating. In the end, it was the former president, almost a foot taller than Harris, who came across as smaller.

This story was originally published by and is reprinted here under a Creative Commons license. This column first appeared in The Amendment, a by Errin Haines, The 19th鈥檚 editor-at-large.

Among the greenery, he has spotted an orchid: Dracula morleyi. Blotted in black with a flash of white at the center, it鈥檚 barely bigger than a fingernail. 鈥淭his place is full of so much biodiversity,鈥� he grins. 鈥淪cientists don鈥檛 even know about most of it.鈥�

Ovando is a guide at Los Cedros Protective Forest, a of cloud forest in the northwest Ecuadorian Andes, one of the world鈥檚 most biodiverse areas.

This tropical haven鈥攈ome to a , including the critically endangered black-and-chestnut eagle and brown-headed spider monkey, jaguars, endemic frogs, more than 300 species of birds, 600 kinds of moths, and 200 varieties of orchids鈥攊s at the forefront of a global movement to recognize the legal rights of the natural world.

The movement is rooted in the common Indigenous belief that nature鈥攆rom the Andean mountains to Amazonian rivers right down to a single soldier ant鈥攊s a system to which human beings belong and with which they must harmoniously coexist. The legal theory argues that these ecosystems and species have intrinsic rights that should be protected in the same way as those of humans.

鈥淭he idea that rocks, rivers, and animals are alive and so should be granted a legal status is a core aspect of Indigenous worldviews,鈥� says C茅sar Rodr铆guez-Garavito, professor of clinical law and director of NYU School of Law鈥檚 , an initiative attempting to further nonhuman rights and the larger web of life. 鈥淚ndigenous peoples have turned that belief into practices of reciprocity with nature, through ceremonies, use of medicinal plants, and more.鈥�

The planet faces a human-led that has already wiped out entire species and risks destroying whole ecosystems. This destruction would accelerate under authoritarian regimes and right-wing agendas around the globe, including Project 2025 in the United States. Los Cedros is the world鈥檚 leading example of how non-anthropocentric laws can be used to effectively defend the planet.

鈥淏y putting ourselves [humans] outside of nature, we鈥檙e hurting ourselves,鈥� says , an ecologist at the University of Oregon who first visited Los Cedros in 1998 and has since returned many times. 鈥淲e live within the system of nature, we rely on it, and it鈥檚 part of us. The rights of nature recognizes this in a way that old laws haven鈥檛.鈥�

WATCH: Does a Forest Have Rights? In Ecuador, It Does.

So-called 鈥渞ights of nature鈥� arguments, a novel conservation strategy dating back to the 1990s, have been lodged in 397 cases across 34 countries and even the United Nations, according to the . These cases have been brought from Bolivia to Brazil to Uganda, as well as Canada, Mexico, and the U.S. 

Some cases have broadly recognized the rights of , , , and even the entirety of , whereas others have focused on species like in the North Sea, in Panama, or a specific animal, such as , who was living in a cage in New York. In one particularly creative case this year, campaigners succeeded in getting music streaming platforms to .

In Ecuador, the groundwork was set in 2008 when, thanks to lobbying from Indigenous groups, the country that included the rights of Pacha Mama, in essence stating that Mother Nature has the same rights as people.

But Los Cedros鈥� story began much earlier. Today, the reserve is owned by the state, but in 1988, the land was purchased by Josef DeCoux, an American environmentalist who managed a scientific station at the heart of the reserve until his death in May 2024. Photo by Bitty Roy

Bit by bit, with the help of friends and nonprofits including Friends of the Earth Sweden and Australia鈥檚 , DeCoux bought land in the area in order to preserve it. For many years, he lived in a shack deep in the forest.

鈥淚 fell in love with the unique beauty of the place,鈥� said DeCoux, during a visit to the monitoring station in Los Cedros shortly before his death following a years-long battle with cancer. 鈥淚 immediately knew that I wanted to dedicate my life to this forest. And that鈥檚 what I鈥檝e done.鈥�

DeCoux worked with Indigenous communities in the surrounding Manduriacos Valley to build local support for the effort, resulting in Los Cedros securing state conservation status in 1994. 鈥淧eople stopped shooting all the monkeys,鈥� he added.

鈥淭hey appreciated the reserve and its value, and how it protects the watershed.鈥�

As a result, Los Cedros鈥攚hich ranges from 3,000 to 9,000 feet in altitude and is crossed by four rivers鈥攖hrived, in contrast to the suffered by the surrounding, highly endangered Andean cloud forest. Under an open-door policy aimed at raising the profile of the reserve, scientists came from across the world to study its wealth of biodiversity, with more than now published.

鈥淚 could spend time studying a single square meter of Los Cedros and still not understand everything there,鈥� Roy says. 鈥淲estern Ecuador is head and shoulders above the rest of the world in terms of amphibian, bird, and plant biodiversity.鈥�

However, conservation efforts hit a major stumbling block in 2017 when the government granted the state-owned mining company ENAMI EP rights to mining concessions for copper and gold in more than two-thirds of Los Cedros鈥� landmass.

This is where the rights of nature legislation came into play. Before extraction could begin, a legal challenge was tabled at the Provincial Court by the local government of Cotacachi, a region home to 43 Indigenous communities. After an appeal, the case was then taken to Ecuador鈥檚 Constitutional Court. The claimants argued that if mining was to proceed in Los Cedros, it would violate the forest鈥檚 constitutional rights, and they demanded the protection of its 鈥渞ight to exist, survive, and regenerate.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

After a years-long legal battle, in December 2021, judges at the Constitutional Court finally annulled the concession that had been granted to the mining company, in effect turning a theoretical constitutional text into a tangible, real-world policy.

The unprecedented was one of the first times that any court in the world had ever recognized the rights of nonhuman organisms鈥攁nd the judges went as far as to state that the law not only applied to Los Cedros and to other protected areas, but, under the terms of the constitution, to any kind of nature within the country of Ecuador.

鈥淭here was no case before this, there was no precedent,鈥� added DeCoux. 鈥淚t was a case of science winning over extractive industries.鈥�

In Los Cedros, the miners were forced to remove their machinery immediately and the court banned all future mining and other extractive activities.

Now, 24 hours a day, the reserve thrums with activity, from the early-morning roars of howler monkeys among the dense canopy to the afternoon squawks of toucans and the buzzes of nocturnal bats swooping after the many critters that fill the night sky.

鈥淚t is a great pleasure to observe the greatness of the animal kingdom here every day,鈥� says Ovando, as he watches a pair of yellow-beaked toucans in the distance. 鈥淟ife is calmer here now. The wildlife is more at ease.鈥�

Follow-up monitoring has also confirmed the early impact of the ruling. As part of a published by the More Than Human Rights Project in June 2024, Rodr铆guez-Garavito visited Los Cedros twice and found that mining equipment and staff had been removed from the reserve, which remained a 鈥渟anctuary鈥� for biodiversity thanks to the ruling. The report concluded that the enforcement of the rights of nature and rulings like Los Cedros 鈥渃an be effective tools to protect endangered ecosystems.鈥�

鈥淚 was positively surprised,鈥� Rodr铆guez-Garavito says. 鈥淓specially because Los Cedros is in the midst of the region with many active mining projects. It should not be taken for granted that these rulings will be properly implemented.鈥�

Proponents argue that the successful use of those rights to defend an ecosystem like Los Cedros has set a powerful precedent, and it is already influencing rulings in Ecuador and beyond. In July, the Indigenous Kitu Kara people won a claiming pollution violated the rights of the Mach谩ngara River, which runs through Ecuador鈥檚 capital, Quito. In March, Peru the rights of the Mara帽贸n River to be free of pollution after a lawsuit was brought by the Kukama Indigenous Women鈥檚 organization against the oil company Petroper煤. A recent claim relating to Ecuador鈥檚 Fierro Urco wetlands even .

鈥淚t鈥檚 a phenomenon that鈥檚 catching fire and that鈥檚 spreading very rapidly around the world,鈥� Rodr铆guez-Garavito says. 鈥淏ecause the Los Cedros case is a sophisticated and detailed judicial decision, it鈥檚 being referenced by other courts.鈥�

Nicola Peel, an who first visited Los Cedros in 1999 and testified during the Constitutional Court case, argues that the ruling marks a turning point in global conservation. 鈥淚 absolutely believe that the time has come for the rights of nature,鈥� she says. 鈥淭his feels like the natural progression for a new era.鈥�

However, plenty of concerns remain over the long-term success of the ruling in Los Cedros, and rights of nature cases more generally, in the face of powerful extractive industries and limited resources to monitor and enforce legal protections.

鈥淭he courts move on to new cases,鈥� Rodr铆guez-Garavito says. 鈥淏ut the argument behind my study is that researchers, policymakers, and advocates must continue paying attention to implementation. We need to follow what happens after.鈥�

The Ganges River, for example, which is considered sacred by more than a billion Indians, was by the highest court in the Indian state of Uttarakhand, which is home to part of the river, as a 鈥渓iving entity鈥� in 2017, but sewage and industrial waste has continued to pollute the river since then and it mostly .

Rodr铆guez-Garavito鈥檚 findings also highlighted other threats to Los Cedros: mining activities in nearby areas that risk a 鈥渟pillover effect,鈥� a growing problem with organized crime in Ecuador that could hinder efforts, 鈥済rossly insufficient鈥� resources for park rangers, and the passing of DeCoux, who led the movement.

An ongoing challenge is also maintaining the support of locals, some of whom鈥攊n situations of poverty, without alternative sources of income, and barely any support from the state鈥攈ave been tempted by the pay offered by mining. 鈥淐ompanies always offer them good jobs,鈥� Ovando says.

Others are concerned that the ruling could simply boost illegal hunting, logging, and mining outside of the reserve鈥檚 borders, which could result in mass biodiversity loss.

鈥淢y worry is that Los Cedros will become an island surrounded by private lands that get degraded,鈥� Peel says. 鈥淗ow can we ensure the protection of other areas too?鈥�

But few disagree that the case of Los Cedros, with its beguiling, mist-covered forest, has provided a vision of a future where the rights of the natural world are actively and effectively protected.

鈥淢ining isn鈥檛 going to happen here again,鈥� said DeCoux, in a typically direct tone that has driven the conservation success in Los Cedros. 鈥淧eople need to get that into their heads.鈥�

Around this time, my grandmother was poisoned in an inter-clan conflict. On her deathbed, she had a vision and told the family that if they followed the voices from the planes they would weaken, get sick, and die. My grandfather, devastated after her death and trying to avoid an inter-clan war, decided to heed the voices. 

My father was a small child then. He and some of my aunts and uncles have told me these stories since I was a little girl. They walked for a month, from the old lands, now Yasun铆, to the river where the bocachico fish run, now Pastaza. On the walk my great-grandfather, Nenkemo, had a dream. In the dream he abandoned his daughter-in-law, my grandmother who had died. The next morning he woke up, ate breakfast, and refused to continue on with the rest. He said that his knee hurt, but everyone knew that he wanted to remain in the forest he loved. The others kept going, and Nenkemo turned back with his spear and blowgun. 

My grandfather and his family had seen the metal machetes, knives, and pots left by previous invaders and thrown from the planes. My grandfather thought of the power of the metal blades that were so resistant and did not rot. Perhaps they will have more of these upstream. They walked to the missionary communities in Pastaza. There they heard the talk of the devil and God and salvation. And within six months, they began to die. 

My grandfather and his brothers, themselves sick and dying, were terrified and irate. They wanted war. The lead missionary, a white woman named Rachel Saint, convinced the Waorani women to break all the men鈥檚 spears. She offered them clothes and processed food like sugar and flour, and she preached. The men and women who got close to her got sick. They became racked with fever, many became paralyzed, and many died, including a number of my aunts and uncles. My father, only still a small boy, crossed the river and hid, surviving on raw shrimp. Rachel preached salvation. My father saw slow torture and death. Our resistance was born there. My father later said: We will pretend to go to her church, but we will not believe in her god. She killed our family.

I grew up in the missionary village of To帽ampare. My father told me these stories and taught me the beauty and bounty of the forest. At the same time, Rachel seemed to be everywhere, always scolding us, calling us savages, and trying to prohibit our songs and dances and sharing of dreams. Sometimes she would receive visitors from her world. My little brother and I would compete to see who could hear the approaching planes first. And we would sneak to the dirt landing strip to watch the people who seemed to descend from the sky. Once a young white girl visited and I thought she looked so pretty. I harmed myself terribly in a deluded attempt to look more like her. 

I became enchanted with the white people鈥檚 things and their promises of salvation. I wanted to learn to speak Spanish, to wear light cotton dresses, to have blue eyes and straight, white teeth. I wanted to know this god who offers eternal life and see what was beyond the horizon, the place that the planes came from. My worried mother tried to dissuade me, a tactic that rarely works with teenagers anywhere in the world. My gentle father did not approve, but did not stand in my way. My desire to learn led me into the arms of the missionaries, led me to face, survive, and escape from forms of abuse I had never imagined, led me to glimpse into the savior鈥檚 world and then, like my great grandfather, to turn back to my own.

And my world, the Amazon rainforest of Ecuador, was at that moment facing an existential threat. The government had auctioned off Waorani territory to multinational oil companies behind our backs. I joined other Waorani and people from distinct Indigenous nations, some of which had a long and disastrous history of oil exploitation in their territories, to fight the government and oil companies. I realized that they too promised salvation. Oil, they said, would save us and the entire country from the very poverty they created. 

My relatives had sickened and died from polio upon contact with the missionaries. I soon met men and women from Indigenous Kofan territories whose relatives died from cancer and whose children died from bathing and drinking water in rivers contaminated by the oil companies.

And then it hit me: The authors of our destruction are the very ones who preach our salvation. Salvation from what? From being Waorani? From living healthy and rich lives in the forest? From discussing our dreams in the morning? From being irreverently funny and laughing all the time? From dancing naked in our palm-thatched longhouses? From living in harmony with the very place they want to destroy? 

If you would like to invade our territory and destroy our home, our people, our language, and culture, have the courage at least to say so. Stop offering salvation to the people you want to eliminate. And allow me to be clear as well: We will resist. We will fight to continue to make our lives in the forest, to speak Wao Tededo, to share our dreams in the mornings, to laugh at you and each other. We will fight to keep your oil companies from poisoning our land and rivers. We will fight, it turns out, even for you, by stopping the global devastation brought on by climate injustice. We will fight to continue to be Waorani. And we will not be saved. 

This essay is inspired by Nemonte Nenquimo鈥檚 forthcoming memoir,

Almost no one has asked what men need to do in order to remedy the problem that the job has been off-limits to more than 50% of the talent pool since 鈥� forever.

At the 2024 Democratic National Convention, that changed. Democratic men made choices that were entirely new, or exceedingly rare, in support of a woman presidential candidate and in service to the nation. It was unprecedented.

As a , I鈥檝e argued that the biggest impediment to electing a woman as president is not a dearth of qualified woman candidates but a . The fault is not in the candidates but in American culture.

As it turns out, men in politics were also to blame.

When faced with competitive women as presidential candidates, many men historically have leveraged their power and privilege in ways that undercut women鈥檚 candidacies. But the Democratic convention was different.

For the first time in history, men in a major political party offered unified support for a woman candidate. They refrained from strategically deploying the stereotype that strong women are not likable, as .

They accepted the party鈥檚 overwhelming support for a woman candidate, instead of insisting on being , as Bernie Sanders did in 2016.

And they put their career on hold to support their spouse鈥檚 candidacy instead of undercutting it by offering support to primary campaign challengers, as Bob Dole did when .

鈥淩elinquishing Male Power鈥�

Rhetorical choices reveal the underlying motivations of individuals and groups. The messaging of Democratic men at the 2024 convention signaled that their party was finally ready to do something that no major party has ever done. They were not only nominating a woman candidate but relinquishing male power and privilege.

Biden surprised everyone when he pulled out of the race from flagging poll results, skeptical donors and party leaders, and nervous down-ballot candidates. Any resentment he may have felt, however, did not turn into pique or pettiness at the convention.

When the crowd chanted, 鈥淭hank you, Joe,鈥� he instructed, 鈥�,鈥� and promised to be 鈥渢he best volunteer the Harris and Walz camp have ever seen.鈥� He didn鈥檛 just give up his candidacy. He ceded his authority鈥攖o the people and the party, but also to Harris, specifically.

Although Secretary of Transportation and may still harbor his own presidential aspirations, he did not use his convention speaking slot to audition for the 2028 campaign. Instead, he performed the role that historically has been reserved for women at political conventions: pitching the party鈥檚 message via the perspective of a parent whose primary concern is 鈥�, .

The convention speech given by the presidential nominee鈥檚 spouse has historically been an opportunity for prospective first ladies to portray their husbands as patriarchs of an ideal American family. In his speech, second gentleman Doug Emhoff of a 鈥渃omplicated鈥� and 鈥渂lended family鈥� with no patriarch but two active partners, equally capable of professional success and deep commitment to family.

When Harris selected Tim Walz as her running mate, and the who deemed Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro the best strategic choice. Walz鈥檚 by one news outlet as the message of a 鈥淢idwest 鈥榤an鈥檚 man鈥欌�� and the 鈥渁ntidote to toxic MAGA masculinity.鈥� Even Ms. magazine touted it as a 鈥�.鈥�

But Walz did something Americans are not used to seeing 鈥渕an鈥檚 men鈥� do. He made it clear that he could work not just with, but for, a woman. And that everyone should.

After that the election was in the metaphorical 鈥渇ourth quarter,鈥� the team was 鈥渄own a field goal,鈥� and the offense was 鈥渄riving down the field,鈥� Coach Walz made it clear that, as in his high school coaching days, . Their leader was Kamala Harris, and 鈥淜amala Harris is tough. Kamala Harris is experienced. And Kamala Harris is ready.鈥�

Contented Second Fiddles

To be clear, Harris鈥� early success as a presidential candidate should be attributed, first and foremost, to her to a series of unprecedented events and to the of the Black women who have long sustained the Democratic Party.

But the men of the convention made a collective choice to embrace 鈥�,鈥� as an Axios reporter described it, and treat Harris like a commander in chief. That should be unremarkable. Women have been doing it for presidential candidates since 鈥� forever. But to see so many white men stepping back so enthusiastically for a woman of color was almost unbelievable.

Stepping back is not the same thing as stepping away. That鈥檚 important, because the broader message of the convention was about how to create an inclusive, democratic community. When you need to make a circle wider, and let more people in, you step back. That doesn鈥檛 leave you out of the circle. It makes your circle bigger.

The convention offered an expansive circle that includes , , and serve as , and .

It also includes a presidential candidate who looks like no other president in U.S. history. That鈥檚 a big step forward for the country.

This article is republished from under a Creative Commons license. Read the .

As the debate floated among leftists on social media, the argument shifted from whether this well-known neo-Nazi slogan is acceptable to use to whether it is an accurate reflection of our current reality. 鈥淸It] would appear we have a Zionist Operated Government,鈥� a with more than 40,000 followers suggested. 鈥淗as anyone ever noticed that?鈥�

White nationalists fashioned the term 鈥淶OG鈥� to refer to an antisemitic conspiracy theory in which 鈥淶ionist鈥� is used to reference a shadowy global cabal of Jews who have infiltrated the United States. According to this conspiracy theory, this ethnic other has now taken the reins of power to undermine national sovereignty, racial integrity, and refashion the U.S. to act in the interests of a demonic power. 

Though this idea is overwhelmingly found on the right, this term鈥檚 brief revival also lends credence to concerns over antisemitism on the left and reveals a key misunderstanding of Israel鈥檚 role in global empire. Israel is not controlling U.S. policy. Instead, it is global Western empire itself determining the future of Palestine.

A Western Colony

The claim that Zionists control the U.S. can sometimes emerge from the 鈥淚srael lobby鈥� thesis, an unfounded allegation that a network of pro-Israel lobbying groups are primarily responsible for manufacturing America鈥檚 Zionist consensus. This theory is often highlighted to critique real pro-Israel lobby groups such as AIPAC and the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), who .

But this framework is also often used in more dubious ways, suggesting a small, elite cadre (usually of Jews) are pulling the strings of geopolitics. However, that framing misunderstands the way both historical Zionists and Western political leaders view Israel as an outpost for Western interests in the Middle East.

While the earliest Jewish Zionists were motivated by what they saw as perennial antisemitism, they always acknowledged their success required imperial sponsorship. Zionism鈥檚 founder, Theodor Herzl, always wanted Israel to be a client state of Western empires, even reaching out to South African colonialist to aid this quest.

As , William Lee Frost Professor of Jewish History at Harvard University, notes in an interview with , Herzl 鈥渨as not wedded to the notion of a Jewish state.鈥� Instead, he 鈥渨rote about many different forms of political organization鈥� ranging from 鈥渁n autonomous province in the Ottoman Empire鈥� to 鈥渁 crown colony,鈥� and even 鈥渁 protectorate under European control.鈥� Ultimately, Herzl and the overall Zionist movement desired 鈥渁 Jewish national home 鈥� secured by international law.鈥� Similarly, Zionist theorist Leon Pinsker never envisioned Israel as an independent country but as simply one component of a European imperial arrangement.

While Zionism often used the language of national liberation movements, which were popular at the time, this was again part of the re-nativism common to colonial movements: to imagine yourself as the land鈥檚 new indigenous people. In reality, Ashkenazi immigration was intentionally allowed by the British during their mandate between 1917 and 1948, who also positively affirmed the creation of a Jewish state as a way of maintaining a stronghold in the formerly Ottoman-controlled region. This was not out of an abundance of care for Jewish immigrants escaping pogroms and the Holocaust, but as a way of maintaining British interests in perpetuity.

In 1920, Winston Churchill, who was soon to be prime minister, noted in the that supporting Zionism was a way of subverting communism. He thought he could use Zionism to refashion Jewish identity and challenge the Bolshevik revolution in Russia by offering Jews Israel instead. Since Herzl wanted to create a European-style country in the Middle East, this could become a trade hub to move Western economic interests and control the increasingly important oil trade.

The logic harkened back to European political ideas, with figures such as Napoleon Bonaparte urging Jews to 鈥渞eturn鈥� to Zion during his Palestine Campaign as a way of undermining British trade pathways to India. Laurence Oliphant, a Christian Zionist who encouraged survivors of the 1881 Kiev pogrom to head to Palestine, argued in 1879 that if Ashekanzim created settlements in historic Palestine (which he originally called the Plan for Gilead) then he could secure 鈥渢he political and economic penetration of Palestine by Britain.鈥�

This process became clearer after World War I when the political and economic importance of the region came into focus for Western powers, and especially so after World War II, as the U.S. became an economic hegemon. The U.S. began looking to Israel as its own outpost, acknowledging in 1966 that it could no longer remain a global watchdog and would need friends in the region. As Arab countries experienced decolonization that often challenged U.S. corporate interests, the U.S. knew it would need a regional ally they could flood with defense spending.

This became a form of 鈥渕ilitary Keynesianism鈥� through which the could fortify domestic consent, and then push back on the growth of Arab nationalism and insurgent movements across the Global South. 鈥淚srael proved its ability to militarily overpower its neighbors,鈥� writes Jason Farber in a 2021 article. 鈥淚f made an ally, American power brokers realized, the United States could use Israel to exert control indirectly.鈥�

U.S. support for Israel only escalated after the Six-Day War, when Israel became an even more important part of the U.S. strategy in the region, pushing countries like Egypt into economically subservient partnerships. By 1973 the U.S. had offered more than . In 1974, Pres. Richard Nixon increased that sum to a staggering $2.6 billion. Since then, aid to Israel has steadily increased, with $3.8 billion being offered in 2023 and an additional $14.3 billion offered in April 2024. The War on Terror only further motivated a direct U.S. investment in Israel, and the U.S. has sent a slew of military leaders to Israel to train them on the methods of counterinsurgency that were then used to squash uprisings in Palestine.

As the dollar amount increased, Israel became a lynchpin of Western domination in the region. As Egyptian-born scholar pointed out in 1969, when the West Bank, Gaza, and the Golan Heights were newly captured, the majority of Israeli companies that invested in Africa were 鈥渙wned by Western monopolies,鈥� such as those in the U.S., Britain, France, and West Germany. 鈥淚srael as an outpost of Western capital and neo-colonialist ideologies fulfills the prophecies and aspirations of the imperialists,鈥� El-Messiri wrote.

One Empire, Many States

If pro-Israel forces were occupying the U.S. government, that would imply there are two different interests at play, but this misunderstands the relationship between Israel and the U.S. Rather than the U.S. and Israel operating as two independent states brokering a self-serving relationship, the U.S. and Israel operate as a single hegemonic system that mobilizes the Zionist project to stabilize profits and Western interests.

All the while, 鈥攂irthed by a colonial situation and modeled on Germanic romantic nationalism鈥攊s being allowed to decimate indigenous Palestinian communities because political leaders have decided that having a compliant Israel is better than having a rebellious Palestinian republic. The U.S. therefore ensures a state of perpetual conflict, one that has further empowered the defense sector to escalate its investments and profits.

Since 1990, Lockheed Martin, one of the largest weapons manufacturers in the U.S. and a key supplier of arms to Israel, has spent more than $330 million in lobbying efforts. In contrast, AIPAC, the Israel lobby of record, has been a minor player in lobbying, only spending $60 million during that same time period. Lockheed鈥檚 stock price skyrocketed over the past year, with one of the biggest jumps happening between Oct. 5, 2023, and Oct. 10, 2023, a trend seen among several other weapons manufacturers.

Even AIPAC has evolved, becoming less a single-issue lobbying group and more of a vessel for corporate and conservative interests, of which Israel is a piece. In the end, a pro-Israel political vision is one that fits nicely in the world of hegemonic transnational corporations that would rather provide their friends with overwhelming control over the future of the Global South than enforce universal human rights.

The strength of the 鈥淚srael lobby鈥� actually comes from a decidedly non-Jewish source. Evangelical Christians are the largest pro-Israel constituency in the United States. In fact, Christians United for Israel is the largest pro-Israel lobbying organization in the U.S., though these Christian Zionists support Israel based on an eschatological belief that Jews must return to Israel so they can face genocide or forced conversion when Jesus returns.

As support for Israel鈥檚 genocidal mission in Gaza declines among U.S. voters, there may come a time when the U.S. will need to seek a new ally in the region. If that were to happen, it would force massive shifts in the war through the loss of unquestioned loyalty and military aid, thus opening a window to a new future in the region.

But even that positive change says nothing about the overarching political reality that the U.S. and other powerhouse countries would simply look for other potential allies that will enact their interests across the Global South. In order to get to the heart of this crisis we have to look at the ongoing systems of colonialism and capitalism themselves, which are baked into the country we live in and drive its foreign policy. We have not been captured by an alien power; this is who America has been all along.

CORRECTION: This article was updated at 11:00 a.m. PT on September 27, 2024, to acknowledge the existence and influence of Israel-focused lobbies.听Read our corrections policy here.听

When I interviewed my maternal grandmother, I asked her whether there was ever a bully at her school. Her answer surprised me; she said she was the bully. 鈥淚 always had soap in my mouth,鈥� she said, punished for 鈥渢alking back鈥� to her teachers鈥攁nd punished for speaking her first language: Blackfeet. 

My grandmother was a student at , a church-run, assimilationist boarding school on the Flathead Indian Reservation in western Montana. She told me stories about the horrific punishments she endured simply for being Blackfeet and about her classmates who were buried on the school grounds.

Unfortunately, my grandmother鈥檚 story is not an anomaly. Instead, her experience is representative of generations of genocidal federal policy. Beginning in 1801, more than operated across the United States, including government-run schools in operation between 1819 and 1969. During this time, multiple generations of my family attended boarding school, including 12 people I鈥檓 directly descended from on my maternal side: my grandmother, all four of my great-grandparents, and seven of my eight great-great-grandparents. 

Boarding schools were part of aimed at 鈥渃ivilizing鈥� Native people and eradicating our nations, communities, cultures, languages, religions, and family ties. Indigenous families were either forced or coerced to send their children to boarding schools. Families who refused were denied the money or goods paid to them in exchange for land, as designated in treaty agreements. This coercion was enshrined in an that allowed the secretary of the interior to 鈥渨ithhold rations, clothing and other annuities from Indian parents or guardians who refuse or neglect to send and keep their children of proper school age in some school a reasonable portion of the year.鈥�

Indigenous children were often taken to schools far away from their homes because, as , an Indian school superintendent, said in 1886, 鈥渙nly by complete isolation of the Indian child from his savage antecedents can he be satisfactorily educated.鈥� My grandmother first attended St. Ignatius Mission, which is about 200 miles south of her home on the Blackfeet Reservation. She later attended the Chemawa Indian Training School in Oregon, 700 miles west of home and two states away. 

Once at school, children experienced what the described as 鈥渟ystematic militarized and identity-alteration methodologies.鈥� Before stepped foot in a classroom, their long hair鈥攃ulturally significant for many tribes鈥攚as cut to imitate white hairstyles. They were also required to wear military, non-tribal clothing as uniforms, and they were required to speak English鈥攁 language many didn鈥檛 speak at home. 

It is important to reframe what we mean by 鈥渟chool.鈥� These were sites of exploitation and cultural genocide, not places where Native children were educated. The dominant narrative about boarding schools often excludes or de-emphasizes the role of forced labor, or what some scholars conceptualize as . Many of my family鈥檚 stories about boarding school are about working rather than being educated. In fact, unpaid labor was the goal.

A by the Department of the Interior, the first ever to examine the extent of federal boarding schools in the U.S., highlighted the breadth of unpaid labor Native children performed at school: 鈥渓umbering, working on the railroad鈥攊ncluding on the road and in car shops, carpentering, blacksmithing, fertilizing, irrigation system development, well-digging, making furniture including mattresses, tables, and chairs, cooking, laundry and ironing services, and garment-making, including for themselves and other children in Federal Indian boarding schools.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

My family members performed other unpaid duties: My grandmother鈥檚 brother worked as a butcher and a barber, while my great-grandpa worked as a rancher. Some children were also taken out of school to perform unpaid labor in the surrounding community. In California, thousands of Native children were on white ranches, farms, hotels, and households.

A 1928 report by the Institute for Government Research on the social and economic conditions of Native peoples, known as the , notes that Indian boarding schools violated child labor laws in most states. And though it was released 12 years before my grandmother was born, the findings did not lessen the impact of her experience at boarding school.

In addition to robbing children of their cultural and linguistic identities, boarding schools had other devastating impacts. Children were beaten and . They experienced overcrowding, food deprivation and , and widespread , including tuberculosis. 

They were forcibly separated from the love and connection and support and validation of their families and communities. They spent years working as unpaid laborers without receiving an education that could aid them after graduation. Some children died before ever having the opportunity to become parents or eventually elders. These experiences have left generational wounds on survivors, their families, and broader Indigenous communities that continue to hurt to this day. 

Agenda of Assimilation 

Boarding schools were just one part of the federal government鈥檚 efforts to eradicate tribal nations. As boarding schools sought to eliminate tribal languages, religions, and cultures among Native children, the federal government passed policies making these cultural practices illegal in Native communities. In 1883, the banned tribal religious practice. The Indian Religious Crimes Code was reversed in 1934, but it wasn鈥檛 until the passage of the that all legal restrictions on practice were lifted. Still, issues remain today, particularly when it comes to and . In 1887, the use of tribal languages was ; this was not reversed until the 1990 passage of the , or NALA. 

The of 1887 also had devastating economic, cultural, and political consequences for tribal communities. The act converted communal tribal land into private property and turned individual Native men into private property owners. Tribal landowners were forced to make land agriculturally productive, even in areas where the land was not suitable as such, and the U.S. government assessed their success, or lack thereof. This assimilative tactic drastically shifted, or attempted to shift, Native peoples鈥� relationship to the land at the same time that their children were being removed from their homes and forced to labor for white people. 

The impacts of boarding school and these policies can be understood through the lens of , a term conceptualized by Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart, Ph.D., a Hunkpapa/Oglala Lakota social worker, in 1995. Historical trauma is the idea that intergenerational, compounded trauma has measurable impacts on the mental health of the descendants of traumatic events, including the forced separation of Native children from their families. 

that asked Native participants how often they thought about historical losses, such as the seizure of land and boarding schools, found that 鈥減erceptions of historical loss are not confined to the more proximate elder generation, but are salient in the minds of many adults of the current generation.鈥� This generational trauma has impacted how families interact with each other: My grandmother didn鈥檛 teach my mother Blackfeet because she didn鈥檛 want her to be discriminated against for speaking English with a Blackfeet accent. 

Boarding schools have also impacted the physical health of Native Americans: Research suggests that boarding school survivors are more likely to have , such as diabetes, hypertension, and arthritis, than Native people who didn鈥檛 attend boarding school. 

Boarding schools have also had other material impacts on Native communities. The jobs students were training for often available back home, making it difficult to find meaningful employment after leaving school. Today, Native people continue to face higher rates of and , and lower rates of homeownership compared to white people. Native children also continue to be , and are disproportionately impacted by child welfare reports, investigations, and out-of-home placements.

Native people know that the legacy of boarding schools continues to impact our communities鈥� physical health, mental health, housing and economic stability, educational attainment, parenting and family functioning, cultural knowledge, and more. And yet, there has been limited storytelling鈥攊n media, academic research, and government reports鈥攖hat measures these impacts.

Contemporary Truth Telling

For many people in Indian Country, it is quotidian to share stories about boarding schools. Boarding schools are openly discussed in my family: My grandma, and great-grandma when she was alive, spoke about their time as students, about their friends who died of poisoning from the lye in the soap placed in their mouths, and about the labor they performed. I grew up having family picnics on the grounds of the boarding school my great-grandmother attended; her grandmother is buried in the school鈥檚 cemetery. 

Over the past 50-plus years, there have been a handful of federal government programs attempting to reckon with the tragedy of boarding schools. In 1969, a decade after my grandmother left boarding school, a scalding report titled 鈥溾�� illuminated the disastrous impacts of boarding schools, noting that they were 鈥渁 failure when measured by any reasonable set of criteria.鈥� In 1978, the Indian Child Welfare Act, or ICWA, was passed, which prioritized placing Native children with family members and tribal members before placing them with non-Native families. 

that 鈥渢here is no resource that is more vital to the continued existence and integrity of Indian tribes than their children.鈥� Advocates for the bill recognized that removing Native children from their families鈥攖hrough both boarding schools and the child welfare system鈥攈ad devastating impacts on both the children and their broader communities. In 1990, NALA passed, allowing the use of tribal languages in schools for the first time since the late 19th century. These legal efforts focused on ensuring Native children stayed connected to their families and cultures but stopped short of collecting testimony from boarding school survivors.

In recent years, there has been increased media attention paid to boarding schools, notably after were found at the Kamloops Indian Residential School in Canada in 2021. There鈥檚 also been in-depth reporting in about the extent of sexual abuse in boarding schools in the U.S., and an episode of , a hit FX show that aired for three seasons from 2021 to 2023, about the traumatic impacts of residential schools. 

Since Deb Haaland, a , became secretary of the interior in 2021, there has been a surge of federal interest in truth telling from boarding school survivors and their descendants. In 2021, after decades of advocacy from tribes and Native organizations, the Department of the Interior launched the , which included an extensive federal report on the impacts of boarding schools, the first-ever inventory of federal boarding schools, and the collection of testimony from boarding school survivors. 

Part of the initiative is the project, launched in 2022, in which Haaland and Assistant Secretary for Indian Affairs Bryan Newland toured the U.S. to collect testimony from . Boarding school survivors and their descendants were also invited to publicly speak about their experiences. For some survivors, this was their first time speaking about their boarding school experiences. Each event had and break rooms to support survivors. 

The Department of the Interior is also funding the , a Minneapolis-based nonprofit, to continue to gather testimony from boarding school survivors over the next few years and create a public oral history repository. These efforts will ensure that the stories and experiences of survivors are preserved for future generations and, survivors hope, help for the atrocities perpetrated. 

Survival and Resistance 

On the legislative front, advocates are pushing for the passage of the , which was introduced in the U.S. Senate in 2023 and the U.S. House in 2024. Truth and reconciliation efforts are not an uncommon response to violence like cultural genocide. Dozens of states across the globe have attempted truth and reconciliation efforts. Some consider Argentina鈥檚 to be the first major effort, though the 1995 , led by Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela, is perhaps the most well-known. There have been a handful of commissions focused on the impacts of colonialism, including one in and one in Maine examining the placement of since the 1970s.

The truth and reconciliation effort that may most closely mirror what is being proposed in the U.S. is Canada鈥檚 on the legacy of Indian residential schools, which is a result of the largest class-action settlement in Canadian history. Like the U.S., the Canadian government and Christian churches operated assimilationist boarding schools for Indigenous youths in the 19th and 20th centuries. 

This commission was not the Canadian government鈥檚 first attempt to support boarding school survivors. In 1998, it established the Aboriginal Healing Foundation, which distributed to Indigenous community initiatives that addressed impacts of residential schools until federal funding was cut in 2010. After the truth and reconciliation lawsuit, the commission interviewed more than 6,500 witnesses between 2007 and 2013. In December 2015, they released a document with , ranging from adopting the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples as a model for reconciliation to providing stable funding for community-based alternatives to incarceration for Indigenous peoples. 

However, progress to fulfill these calls to action has been slow. The Yellowhead Institute, which tracked progress of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission over five years, noted that at the rate the Canadian government was moving, it wouldn鈥檛 finish implementing the until 2081.

An unintended consequence of the commission has been the growth of boarding school 鈥渄enialism鈥� among non-Indigenous people in Canada. In a from the Office of the Independent Special Interlocutor for Missing Children and Unmarked Graves and Burial Sites associated with Indian Residential Schools, the increase in denialism was identified as a top 12 concern held by boarding school survivors, descendants, and families. For example, after mass graves of 215 children were found at the Kamloops Indian Residential School in 2021, some people, including political commentators, priests, and Danielle Pierce, the premier of the province of Alberta, downplayed the news as a . Some denialists went so far as to to the Kamloops site to 鈥渟ee for themselves鈥� if children were indeed buried there. 

Denialism is the final 鈥溾�� in Genocide Watch鈥檚 10 stages of genocide, a widely used policy tool developed by Gregory Stanton, Ph.D. This increase in denialism necessitates the importance of storytelling. Truth and reconciliation鈥攐r in the case of the U.S. bill, truth and healing鈥攊s not a panacea for the material and psychological impacts on individuals, communities, and families. But allowing people to tell their stories is an important step. If passed, the Truth and Healing Commission on Indian Boarding School Policies Act would establish a commission tasked with investigating the genocidal practices of boarding schools and would require the federal government to hold public hearings with survivors, their families, and communities to help create this document. 

The commission would also attempt to make a record of the number of children who attended federal boarding schools; document the number of children who were abused, went missing, or died in federal boarding schools; and outline the ongoing impacts of boarding schools on survivors and their families. As Native communities throughout the country continue to record their stories鈥攁nd the Truth and Healing bill advances through Congress鈥攎any questions remain. 

What does it mean for the same government that created these violent policies to lead a so-called 鈥渉ealing鈥� process mere decades later? Does the focus on reconciliation rather than healing focus too much on perpetrators and those who benefit from colonialism 鈥渃oming together鈥� with those they harmed, versus focusing on support of victims and survivors? Is truth telling inherently beneficial to the truth teller? Or might it be traumatic for people to share their stories without tangible action coming from it? 

Boarding school survivors and tribal communities have made one thing clear: A nuanced reckoning of the expansive, intergenerational impacts of boarding schools is absolutely necessary, and tribally driven solutions based on Indigenous healing鈥攏ot government or church abdication鈥攎ust be centered. 

When my grandmother鈥檚 older sister passed away in 2020, my family got access to 30 pages of scanned files from Chemawa Indian School in Salem, Oregon, which they both attended. In these files are report cards, notes on her medical needs, comments from teachers, and other correspondence. One report card includes a 鈥渃itizenship鈥� section, which lists her 鈥済ood鈥� behavior (one item, 鈥渄ragging mattress down hall in dust鈥�) and 鈥減oor鈥� behaviors (12 items, including 鈥渄id not go to church鈥�). Throughout the scanned documents are references to the sisters鈥� supposedly 鈥渦nstable life鈥� at home on the reservation. 

Further down in the files is a scanned letter from my great-grandparents written on Nov. 10, 1954. On one side is a letter asking that their daughters, my grandmother and her sister, be sent home on the train. They were 14 and 15. 鈥淵ou send them home this week鈥� is the last sentence, written in pencil with each word underlined in blue ink. On the back, they wrote the train schedule from Salem, Oregon, where the boarding school was, to Browning, the main town on the Blackfeet Reservation. They also sent train fare. The next page is the response from the principal of the school. 鈥淲e are at a loss to understand just what your intention is in the matter,鈥� she wrote. But by Nov. 15, 1954, they were both withdrawn from the school.

Native people have always resisted colonialism and fought to protect our families, communities, cultures, and nations. When my grandmother and her sister were at boarding school, their parents tried to be actively engaged in their children鈥檚 lives鈥攁nd worked proactively to get them back. When tribal religions were illegal, my family continued to practice, pray, and hold ceremonies. 

As I am writing this, wild mint, yarrow, bee balm, white sage, and sweet grass that I collected last night with my mother are drying in my room. I鈥檒l use them for medicinal teas and smudging throughout the year, and we鈥檒l gather more next summer. My family continues to gather, prepare, and use Blackfeet plant medicine. Despite policies intentionally trying to obliterate our culture, my relatives still passed down this ancestral knowledge and love.

We are running out of time to capture the vital stories of boarding school survivors. My grandma is the last living boarding school survivor in my family; her parents and her siblings who attended boarding school have passed away. Advocates say the impacts on parenting, family relationships, and tribal communities and economies鈥攂oth psychological and very material鈥攏eed to be part of the conversation to truly understand the impacts of boarding schools and the contemporary disparities and injustices still facing Indigenous communities today. 

Boarding schools took a lot away from my family. Truth telling is one step toward government and church accountability, public education, and perhaps most importantly, helping families like mine rebuild what was taken from us for future generations. Truth telling can help us rebuild our relationships to each other, strengthen and revitalize our cultural practices, and begin to heal, on our own terms, from the ongoing violence of colonization. 听

But today鈥檚 truths鈥攅specially those deemed uncomfortable鈥攁re more often disregarded and downtrodden, contested and challenged. Whether it鈥檚 the true cause of the Civil War, the Big Lie that fueled a deadly insurrection, or trans children deserving access to medically necessary care, every issue is treated as if it has two equal sides worthy of being debated. But more often than not, the hard truth is that one 鈥渟ide鈥� aims to uphold the greater good, while another hoards power, resources, and control. 

Our 鈥淭ruth鈥� issue, the last print magazine we鈥檒l release before the 2024 presidential election, puts the responsibility of both telling the truth and upholding it squarely in the realm of the collective. As it becomes increasingly difficult to differentiate fact from fiction, we offer some clear signposts for consideration: Texas high-schooler Marium Zahra makes the case for children to be free from the threat of gun violence. Journalist Nico Lang reports on drag queens standing up for our collective right to express ourselves. And, as public libraries are subjected to budget cuts and undue scrutiny, Erin Jones chronicles radical bibliophiles who are finding creative ways to get books in the hands of the children鈥攁nd adults鈥攚ho need them.

As we face a presidential contest that again includes a candidate who intentionally weaponizes misinformation, it鈥檚 critical to hone our ability to recognize the truth. This isn鈥檛 necessarily a new phenomenon, but it is an accelerating one, with the rise of artificial intelligence, 鈥渄eep fakes,鈥� and disinformation making that task more difficult鈥攚hich is why this issue closes with an insightful game about how we can better differentiate between fact and fiction.

In these moments, calling upon our history鈥攖he movements and the moments that help us reckon with where we鈥檝e fallen short鈥攊s imperative. Abaki Beck, a fifth-generation descendant of Native 鈥渂oarding school鈥� survivors, thoughtfully probes whether truth and reconciliation commissions can live up to their title, and whether 鈥渞econciliation鈥� is even possible in the face of cultural genocide. And, as we consider how history influences our understanding of the truth, James Tracy spotlights Stonebreakers, a documentary that examines the complicated movement to remove confederate and colonialist statues.

We think about each issue of 精东影业 as a time capsule, one that readers can return to in the future to better understand this moment. Our deepest hope is that this issue will be exactly that鈥攁 transparent snapshot of a moment where we, collectively, decided to hold the truth above all else.

Be well,
Evette Dionne

For decades, people in the sex trade have been raising awareness about on their livelihoods and well-being. Their demands have largely remained the same: Sex workers want , the , and an environment that allows them to when it happens. 

Unfortunately, the rampant criminalization of sex workers and their clients has remained a barrier to these basic human rights. However, , an anthology that I edited, suggests an immediate step: Bolster harm reduction within the sex trade to arm sex workers with the knowledge and resources necessary to prevent and respond to violence and exploitation within their work and personal lives.

Shame is not a productive agent of change, and robbing people of resources only decreases their chances of survival.鈥�

As I write in the book, harm reduction is 鈥渢he understanding that shame is not a productive agent of change, and robbing people of resources only decreases their chances of survival.鈥� Sometimes, harm reduction can include providing safety supplies, such as condoms, lube, sanitizer, boric acid, and bad date lists. Other times, harm reduction can include safety planning and ensuring there鈥檚 community accountability and room for self-care. Harm reduction can also include broad access to low-income and affordable housing, safe drug-consumption spaces, and rights-based policy reforms. Harm reduction is a 鈥渂lueprint for survival and the belief in something beyond survival,鈥� I write. 鈥溾�楯ust say no鈥� isn鈥檛 as effective as 鈥榃hat do you need to be OK?鈥欌��

Currently, the war on sex trafficking is the dominant sociopolitical approach to the sex trade in the United States. Most local, state, and federal conflate consensual sex work with sex trafficking, thereby pushing sex work underground, where trafficking, , and are actually more likely to occur. Most everything the mainstream media tells us about sex trafficking is and , including the number of people being trafficked. When social services count consensual sex workers as sex trafficking survivors, it , further stigmatizing sex workers and endangering those who are victims of trafficking.

In contrast, consent, self-agency, and sex worker leadership are central to harm reduction. 

Harm-reduction programs that center sex workers鈥攊ncluding in Baltimore; , a Black trans-led advocacy organization in New York City; and Aileen鈥檚, a peer-centered organizing and hospitality space for sex workers in Seattle鈥攐ffer individualized care and classes that help sex workers navigate police harassment and other forms of state violence. These organizations also offer occupational health and safety supplies; meet sex workers where they are, whether on the street or online; and provide peer support free of shame, stigma, and sensationalism. In these programs, sex-trafficking survivors self-identify as such and are connected to additional services as requested. 

Body Autonomy illustrates the ways in which sexuality and sexual labor have been colonized and weaponized against women, femmes, and queer and trans people of color. It includes antidotes from healers of the global majority that encourage us all to reclaim the sanctity of our bodies and our bodily autonomy. 鈥淚f everyone on Earth felt fulfilled, healed, whole 鈥� or at least knew how to access a platform for healing 鈥� the world would be a different place,鈥� Melodie Garcia, an erotic service provider, harm reductionist, and writer, says in her piece in Body Autonomy. 鈥淚t is absolutely true that people can find this through sex, kink, art, and drugs.鈥�

The truth is marginalized sex workers, including sex workers of color, transgender sex workers, undocumented sex workers, and sex workers with disabilities, in the sex trade, from criminalization to sex trafficking. When policies and social services are with these populations, who are the most marginalized, in mind, everybody benefits. 

As the consensual sex workers I worked with for Body Autonomy affirm, sex work is work鈥攁nd it is neither inherently disempowering and exploitative, nor is it inherently empowering and glamorous. Like most work, it can often be a combination of all these characteristics and more. If we as a society can embrace this truth, then we can work toward a world where compassion, care, and collaboration are prioritized. 

In order to keep sex workers safe, we must re-learn and re-frame concepts of public safety and public health, uplift compassion, and consider new worlds. Embracing harm reduction can help get us there. 

On the front of her white sheath gown were the names of the 22 children killed during mass shootings in the cities of Uvalde and Allen. After waiting 13 hours, she finally got to speak against , a Texas bill criminalizing drag performances, and accused GOP lawmakers of failing victims and their families by 鈥渟pending more time in this legislative session targeting drag queens than gun violence.鈥� The provocation struck a nerve: After a Texas House committee member attempted to cut Bandit off before she had concluded her remarks, security escorted Bandit from the room.

Bandit, who resembles a harlequin Dolly Parton when made up in drag, had addressed the Texas Legislature once before: in March of 2023, opposing S.B. 12, which sought to criminalize drag artists who engaged in 鈥渟exually oriented performances鈥� in view of minors with a $10,000 fine and a Class A misdemeanor, punishable by up to a year in jail. In March, Bandit was so nervous that her voice shook during her speech, but during her second visit to the Capitol, she says she was 鈥渞eally fucking angry.鈥� Three children were among the nine people killed after a gunman opened fire in an Allen shopping center on May 6鈥攋ust four days earlier鈥攁nd the empty sentiments from conservatives about 鈥減rotecting kids鈥� rang hollow, she says.

鈥淭hey don鈥檛 actually care about the truth,鈥� she says. 鈥淭he first time I went to the Capitol, I had a little bit of hope: Oh, they don鈥檛 know what they鈥檙e talking about. We just need to show them. But these people want to continue to spread their lies. They don鈥檛 care about the way this is affecting our community. They just really don鈥檛 care.鈥�

Bandit is part of a nationwide grassroots movement of drag performers fighting back against anti-LGBTQ legislation鈥攚hether by speaking at state legislatures, joining lawsuits challenging drag bans, organizing rallies and marches, or any other way they can raise their voices. This advocacy has been extraordinarily effective in helping to move the needle on discriminatory laws. Four months after Bandit鈥檚 first speech, a federal court declared S.B. 12鈥攚hich Texas Gov. Greg Abbott (R) signed into law on June 18, 2023鈥攖o be unconstitutional. 

According to the , six states enacted laws over the past few years that could be used to restrict public drag performances; only two of those are currently enforceable, neither of which explicitly names drag performances, while all others have been blocked in court. Courts have issued temporary injunctions pausing drag bans in Florida and Montana as civil rights groups fight to repeal the laws entirely. And in June 2023, Tennessee became the first state to see its anti-drag law, which banned drag from being performed either on public property or in front of minors, fully struck down. was particularly harsh in its scrutiny of drag artists: Repeat offenders were subject to a Class E felony, resulting in a maximum six-year prison sentence.

As one of the faces of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) lawsuit challenging Texas鈥� S.B. 12, Bandit says she wept the day that the district court enjoined the law. She thought of how much drag has meant to her and what a profound impact it has had on her life since she first began performing in 2018. She had recently left an 鈥渋ntensely abusive relationship,鈥� she says, and was living in her mother鈥檚 house after cramming all the belongings she could fit into her Fiat. 鈥淚 had nothing,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know who I was.鈥�

Bandit says finding drag helped her unlock an inner strength she never knew existed. She no longer felt the need to make herself small for other people鈥檚 comfort and stopped putting everyone else鈥檚 needs before her own. Drag became her suit of armor: a protective shield that allowed her to feel strong and ultimately use her voice in defense of the community that has shown her nothing but unconditional love. Although Bandit says that being part of the ongoing lawsuit against Texas has made this 鈥渙ne of the most challenging years鈥� of her life, she intends to keep fighting to make sure others have the same opportunities to experience the beauty and power of drag.

In a time of unprecedented anti-LGBTQ legislation, it鈥檚 fitting that drag performers are helping protect the decades of hard-won civil rights victories they themselves were instrumental in securing. Two of the leading figures in the early movement for LGBTQ equality were Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, trans women of color who sometimes referred to themselves as drag queens. As a nod to their groundbreaking work with the activist group Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries, which provided housing for unhoused LGBTQ youth, Johnson and Rivera are often credited with kick-starting the 1969 riots at the Stonewall Inn. The landmark six-day demonstration against police brutality was among the earliest and most visible LGBTQ-led protests in the U.S., inspiring the first Pride parades the following year.

They want to make us look like the enemy. They want us to look like we are the problem. If we show them the complete opposite, we can show what drag actually is, which is love.鈥�
鈥擜thena Sinclair

More than 55 years later, drag performers are yet again on the front lines of LGBTQ activism, at another critical moment for the queer community. So far in 2024, more than 500 bills have been considered in states across the country seeking to curtail basic rights and protections for LGBTQ people, according to data provided by the National Center for Transgender Equality. That number has already surpassed the historic 499 anti-LGBTQ bills considered in 2023. The vast majority of those proposals are aimed at restricting the ability of trans youths and adults to access necessary medical care, educational opportunities, public bathrooms, and IDs that match their lived gender identity.

While this wave of GOP-led legislation has resulted in nearly half of U.S. states banning medical care for trans and nonbinary people, and limiting trans sports participation, the conservative crusade against drag is already waning. Of this year鈥檚 crop of bills targeting public drag performances, not a single piece of legislation, to date, has been signed into law. Most of 2024鈥檚 proposed drag bans have been killed in committee, not even advancing to floor debate. 

Across the country, drag performers have played a direct role in countering legislation restraining their freedom of expression. When a Senate committee debated South Dakota鈥檚 Senate Bill 184 in February, the Rapid City鈥揵ased drag performer Dixy Divine calling the legislation 鈥渦nnecessary, un-American, and unacceptable.鈥� If passed, S.B. 184 would have banned drag artists from exhibiting a 鈥済ender identity that is different from the performer鈥檚 biological sex鈥� in view of minors. Dressed in sparkly gold leggings and a modest black dress, she pointed out that drag has a long history in popular culture, dating from the comedies of William Shakespeare to the Robin Williams farce Mrs. Doubtfire: 鈥淲e鈥檝e been enjoying theater, dance, and plays that don鈥檛 take gender too seriously for centuries.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The committee ultimately voted down South Dakota鈥檚 drag ban 5-1, marking a year in which no explicitly anti-LGBTQ laws have been passed in the state thus far, according to the ACLU of South Dakota. , a vaguely worded bill that could potentially be used to restrict the performance of drag on college campuses, was quietly signed into law by Gov. Kristi Noem (R) in March. H.B. 1178 restricts state universities from funding or hosting 鈥渙bscene live conduct,鈥� but what comprises obscenity is left undefined.

Arkansas signed its anti-drag bill into law despite protests from drag performers, but local activism helped to significantly restrain its scope. Athena Sinclair, a local drag artist and former Miss Gay Arkansas, on the steps of the state Capitol in opposition to , a bill written so broadly that critics public gender nonconformity. Sinclair, who also testified before a state Senate panel, led protesters in a rendition of 鈥淪easons of Love鈥� from the Broadway musical Rent, a demonstration that drew hundreds of attendees. The version of S.B. 43 ultimately enacted that it didn鈥檛 even explicitly mention drag at all.

Sinclair says the choice of song was a pointed message to lawmakers who have claimed that drag performers are predators and 鈥済roomers鈥濃�攅ven though no data exists to support those incendiary claims. 鈥淚t鈥檚 so easy to get angry,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 so easy to lash out, but at the end of the day, that鈥檚 what they want. They want to make us look like the enemy. They want us to look like we are the problem. If we show them the complete opposite, we can show what drag actually is, which is love. Drag, to me, represents love because it is self-expression, and I don鈥檛 think that there is any better way to love than to love yourself. That鈥檚 what drag has done for me. It鈥檚 made me love myself and trust myself in everything that I do.鈥�

Another reason so many of these legislative efforts have failed is that, in the words of drag performer Flamy Grant, the bills are 鈥渟o on the far side of absurd that it鈥檚 just exhausting.鈥� 鈥淲e aren鈥檛 gonna go quietly,鈥� the singer-songwriter and podcaster from North Carolina adds. 鈥淒rag performers are showing up in drag at their city council offices and their state governments and saying, 鈥楾his is who I am. My art doesn鈥檛 exist to destroy society. It exists to make people know themselves and love themselves. It鈥檚 not to tear down values. It鈥檚 to expand what we value.鈥欌��

They know that the power of this art form is that it鈥檚 liberating. It鈥檚 freeing. It鈥檚 empowering, and it helps people feel seen.鈥�
鈥擣lamy Grant

Grant (whose moniker is a reference to the Christian recording artist Amy Grant) was among the performers who fought against the enforcement of Tennessee鈥檚 drag ban, which was revived by a Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals ruling that dismissed the case in July 2024. Flamy Grant was scheduled to be a headliner at Blount Pride in East Tennessee when the September 2023 event . Although the drag ban had already been struck down in court, the county鈥檚 attorney general, Ryan Desmond, . With Grant as a plaintiff, the ACLU against Desmond, allowing the Pride festival to move forward as planned.

Grant knows that drag can play a major role in resisting anti-LGBTQ hate because she has seen it firsthand. Her post-show meet and greets, which deal with themes like surviving religious trauma and finding joy, are often longer than the performance, Grant notes, because bringing forward those dialogues gives people a space to heal. There are a lot of tears, she says, but a mother who lost her child to suicide once came up after a show to thank her. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e literally saving lives,鈥� the woman said.

That鈥檚 why Grant says protecting drag is so important: because it has the potential to reach people who really need to hear the message. 鈥淲hen you really get to know the drag community, the fearmongering is so silly,鈥� Grant says. 鈥淭he goal of drag bans is to isolate people from each other. Drag bans try to remove us from public life and keep us in dark corners of the world. They know that the power of this art form is that it鈥檚 liberating. It鈥檚 freeing. It鈥檚 empowering, and it helps people feel seen.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

That day, her church鈥檚 reverend told her that the Municipality of San Juan, Puerto Rico鈥檚 capital city, was expropriating the property where they congregated. 鈥淲e were shocked,鈥� she says. Nebot could not believe the municipality was threatening to strip the church of the building it had existed in for 50 years. The church sat on Arzuaga Street, one of the main streets in R铆o Piedras, teeming with small, locally owned businesses.

Nebot and the reverend immediately set a meeting with , the office that serves as a liaison between the University of Puerto Rico, the community, and the government. During that meeting, they learned that San Juan鈥檚 then mayor, , had announced a development, , that included the demolition of more than 100 buildings in R铆o Piedras. 鈥淗e wanted to rebuild R铆o Piedras by destroying R铆o Piedras,鈥� recalls Jos茅 Luis Gonz谩lez, a resident of Garc铆a Ubarri, one of eight communities that surround the historic center.

That summer, 180 people gathered at the First Baptist Church of R铆o Piedras to form the Community Board of the R铆o Piedras Urban Area, with representatives from the eight communities surrounding R铆o Piedras. Attendees signed a community manifesto that established an alternative plan to R铆o 2012, one that would secure affordable housing.

After five years of organizing, the R铆o Piedras community successfully blocked Santini鈥檚 plan from being implemented. 鈥淭he community board at that time did a lot of advocacy,鈥� says M贸nica Ponce-Caballero, director of CAUCE. 鈥淲ith proposals and data, we paralyzed the project. That has been our most significant achievement.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

After that victory, the community succeeded in amending the R铆o Piedras Rehabilitation Act to include a land trust that ensures affordable housing and helps avoid gentrification. The community board鈥檚 involvement in policymaking, campaigning on social issues, organizing neighborly meetings, and debating ideas is an example of how people civically engage beyond election day. Above all, it鈥檚 an instance of a community working toward issues that matter to them in a context where there is no real democracy.

Disenchanted But Not Disempowered

鈥淧uerto Rico is not a democracy because it is a colony. And in a colony, by definition, the people do not give themselves their own laws,鈥� says Joel Col贸n-R铆os, professor of law at the University of Essex in the United Kingdom. 鈥淗owever, this does not mean that democratic spaces cannot exist in Puerto Rico.鈥� A true government by the people should not only be about participating in discussions, but about 鈥渕aking binding decisions about the rules and policies that apply to the community,鈥� he adds. 鈥淔or that to happen, it usually requires a change in the legal system.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Although and , the U.S. government does not recognize the Puerto Rican people鈥檚 sovereignty, and therefore the island鈥檚 government and is through non-U.S. ships. Congress can decide when to exclude Puerto Rican residents from or available to other U.S. citizens. The archipelago chooses a resident commissioner in Washington, D.C., who is a delegate of Congress, . 

In Puerto Rico, local elections have become irrelevant for many people, particularly since 2016, when the U.S. imposed a that and uses its veto-like powers to . Austerity measures within the municipal and central government鈥攁long with bureaucracy鈥攃omplicate even small requests from the community, such as repairing sidewalks. 鈥淭he construction for [a] sidewalk [in R铆o Piedras] took more than a year and they did a bad job,鈥� says Rahisa Delucca Morales, a representative of the Blondet residents in the Community Board of the R铆o Piedras Urban Area. 鈥淚n a way, the community organization enables it to be done and to be demanded, but delaying the process and doing it badly discourages people.鈥�

As a result, many communities in Puerto Rico don鈥檛 get the support or resources they need, and they have become disenchanted. 鈥淏ecause of the situation in the country, people are very tired,鈥� says Jackie Garc铆a-Flores, current president of the R铆o Piedras community board. 鈥淲hen you invite people [to get involved], they ask themselves: What for?鈥�  

Political apathy is an increasing global phenomenon, particularly . In the 2020 U.S. presidential election, population decided not to participate, according to the University of Florida Election Lab. The 2020 election held the highest turnout in more than a century, but voting turnout has not surpassed 80% since 1888 and 70% since 1900.

The voter turnout rate has been lowest among people between and non-white populations over the past 38 years. And since this data only refers to eligible voters, it excludes a large portion of the population: An estimated 30 million people are prohibited from voting because they have a felony, are a noncitizen, or live in a U.S. territory. But voting is far from the only way to participate in a democracy, and for those who choose not to vote or who are denied the right, communities are coming up with creative ways to have their voices heard. 

An Undemocratic System

The U.S. is typically described as a 鈥溾�� because people elect representatives who make laws. Col贸n-R铆os says electing officials is just the first part. 鈥淔or a system to be described as a 鈥榬epresentative democracy鈥� it is not enough to have an elected legislature, but rather an elected legislature that adopts laws consistent with the preferences and interests of the people,鈥� he says. And that should include all voters in the U.S. and its territories. 

The problem in the U.S. and other purportedly democratic countries is the clear disconnect between people鈥檚 desires and the laws that are passed. there is general support in the U.S. for to fund essential services, , and . Meanwhile, are legislating gun control, increasing access to reproductive health care, and reducing the causes of climate change. Yet legislation relating to these efforts regularly .

This disconnect is partly because many legislators come from economic and social classes whose interests they defend, Col贸n-R铆os explains. According to , a nonpartisan nonprofit tracking money in U.S. politics, more than half of U.S. congresspeople in 2018 were millionaires. That鈥檚 a huge contrast to the who have assets higher than $1 million. Furthermore, while white males represent 30% of the population, they represent 62% of officeholders, according to a 2021 analysis by the . 鈥淭he result is that the laws they adopt often protect the interests of certain groups over the interests of the majority,鈥� Col贸n-R铆os explains. 

In fact, the according to the People鈥檚 Action Institute. An increasing number of organizations are working to change that. The Reflective Democracy Campaign proposes shifting power from donors, politicians, and influencers who control endorsements and funding to grassroots leaders. The campaign gives grants to grassroots organizing groups like Michigan United, Take Action Minnesota, and the Texas Organizing Project to train their members to advocate for their communities in a variety of roles鈥攁s activists, organizers, campaign managers, and elected or appointed officials. 

This model was also adopted by the , which focuses on building power for poor and working people through training, endorsing, and campaigning. The institute works as a coalition of 42 state and local grassroots organizations that developed a 鈥減eople鈥檚 platform鈥� and endorses candidates who pledge to implement it. They say that in 2022, on millions of doors, made millions of phone calls, sent a million texts to support endorsed candidates, and helped to federal office and 75 to state legislatures. 

Some , including the Asian American Women鈥檚 Political Initiative and Advance Native Political Leadership, are focused on increasing diversity and the representation of historically marginalized communities, while to make government more responsive to the community, like participatory budgeting. For example, the facilitated a process with Bushwick schools in Brooklyn, New York. Their task was to collectively determine how best to spend $250,000 from the Office of the Brooklyn Borough President for a school safety program. Students, family members, and staff brainstormed, created proposals, and finally voted on a plan to renovate gender-neutral bathrooms and expand a restorative justice program. 

Voter Apathy Is Not Political Apathy 

Displeased with their political representation and government bureaucracy, some groups prefer to create nongovernmental institutions where they have a say. Such is the case of the farmers who in 2010 organized the , which was formalized as a nonprofit in 2018 after Hurricanes Irma and Mar铆a. 

鈥淲hen [Hurricane] Mar铆a landed, things were excessively precarious,鈥� says Carlos Figueroa Robles, operations manager at the Institute. In the aftermath, Puerto Rico was receiving donations from both individuals and foundations, but in order to receive those funds, projects needed to be incorporated as nonprofits and have permits, such as a 501(c)(3) status. Figueroa Robles says the Institute had to become a legal entity that could facilitate the process of accessing these funds. 

鈥淔or the state, agroecological farmers aren鈥檛 farmers,鈥� he says. Many agroecological farmers do not meet the Department of Agriculture鈥檚 requirements to be certified as a 鈥渂onafide farmer鈥� because they do not make enough income, have enough land, or cannot provide proof of ownership. On the U.S. Department of Agriculture side, much of the paperwork and English proficiency. These barriers limit access to benefits and funds. 鈥淭hese obstacles result in poverty for these families,鈥� adds Figueroa Robles, who is pursuing a doctorate in social work at the University of Puerto Rico.

The Institute for Agroecology is run by an advisory board composed of nearly 100 individuals, most of them member-farmers. Twice a year they meet to tell the nonprofit鈥檚 working group what their priorities should be to better serve their members鈥� needs. In 2022, the Institute for Agroecology joined forces with other organizations to create the Fiona Fund, which offers five months of supplementary income to 50 agroecological operations. 鈥淭he goal is to accompany all these initiatives in order to reduce the administrative burden imposed on them and thus be able to generate well-being and validate their practices through research and participatory assistance efforts,鈥� says Figueroa Robles. 

The rising cost of rent is another challenge for farmers in Puerto Rico. In the past 40 years, Puerto Rico has lost more than 511,000 acres of agricultural lands, according to the Federal Agricultural Census. This is largely due to the and . 鈥淲e are being displaced,鈥� says Figueroa Robles. 鈥淚nstead of containing power and centralizing it, we need to democratize it so that the people who are custodians and work the land can make decisions and have democratic governance mechanisms to implement it.鈥�

Melmary Aguilar R铆os, a third-generation farmer from Mayag眉ez, a town in Western Puerto Rico, turns the produce she harvests into juices and food that she then sells from her food truck, Echando Ra铆ces. For the past five years, she鈥檚 been restoring the soil of a farm she holds under usufruct, but now the owner wants her out. Since she鈥檚 a founding member of the community land trust the Institute for Agroecology launched in 2023, she now has the opportunity to work on land she co-owns with other members of the collective. 鈥淭hanks to the trust, I can feel more secure about having a space where we can go to farm and they won鈥檛 take it away from you,鈥� she says. 

Col贸n-R铆os says democratizing society requires us to work collectively from the bottom up, but he emphasizes that the 鈥渕aking of binding decisions depends on the political system recognizing the validity of these spaces鈥攖hat is, recognizing the decisional power of these spaces.鈥�  

For this recognition to happen, Col贸n-R铆os says that groups struggling for change need to build a wide political force, either by forming a social movement or a political party. He pointed to as one example, and the as another. 鈥淭o achieve systemic change it is necessary to identify demands common to all groups struggling for change,鈥� adds Col贸n-R铆os. 

So with the 2024 U.S. presidential election fast approaching, it may be time to focus less on voters and more on those who are trying to guarantee everyone鈥檚 voices are heard. While Puerto Rico may not have sovereignty, there is a growing number of groups coming together to create spaces that can lead to a more dignified life. 

Despite the restless work campaigning and celebrating assemblies, Garc铆a-Flores, the president of the Community Board of the R铆o Piedras Urban Area, is clear on one thing: 鈥淲ithout the community board, we wouldn鈥檛 stand a chance.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This kind of local organizing and insistence on participatory democratic processes are tools every community can use to ensure their lands and resources are being designed with them in mind. In the meantime, Figueroa Robles is focused on defending laws that allow Puerto Ricans to create systems of participatory democracy: 鈥淲e cannot hope for an ideal scenario in order to start creating other worlds and other realities.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

CORRECTION: This article was updated at 12:13 p.m. PT on Sept. 4, 2024, to clarify that Melmary Aguilar R铆os held a farm under usufruct rather than renting it.听Read our corrections policy here.

鈥淭hey didn鈥檛 remove me from the situation because my grandparents provided the 鈥榮afe nuclear home鈥� while they were out transforming the world,鈥� she says. Simmons鈥� parents were activists. Her father was a conscientious objector to the Vietnam War. Her mother was beaten and jailed for registering Black people to vote during the Jim Crow era. But despite their involvement in radical movements, her parents did not protect her, Simmons says. 鈥淚 always think it鈥檚 important to name that, particularly in activist circles,鈥� she adds. 鈥淚t鈥檚 important to do the external work, but in the words of my teacher , 鈥業f your house ain鈥檛 in order, you鈥檙e not in order. It鈥檚 easier to be out there than in here.鈥欌��

Simmons has since dedicated her life to examining the intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and sexual violence as a cultural worker. Her 2006 film, , shone a light on intraracial rape in the Black community. 鈥淏lack people are under siege,鈥� she says. 鈥淭o speak about the violence against [Black] women, you were viewed as a traitor.鈥� Her work has since expanded to amplify the experiences of Black LGBTQ survivors, and today she advocates for survivor-centered healing, non-carceral community accountability, and using intersectionality when uprooting abuse from our society. 鈥淭his entire hemisphere was founded on rape, genocide, and enslavement,鈥� she says. 

In the United States, a person is . . have experienced sexual violence in their lifetime. And are the populations most likely to be victimized. But despite these statistics, Simmons rejects the idea that abuse is inevitable. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 believe that we are born rapists,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 believe that we鈥檙e born settlers. I don鈥檛 believe that we鈥檙e born misogynist [or] capitalist. We鈥檙e taught it. It鈥檚 indoctrinated.鈥�

More than five years after was brought into the mainstream, abuse still has deep roots in many of our , , and . While the hashtag became increasingly associated with encouraging survivors鈥攑articularly in Hollywood鈥攖o tell their truths, society has yet to truly center them. 鈥淲hile I do believe that the truth has the power to set us free, it also has caused a lot of harm for the survivors coming forward,鈥� says Simmons. 鈥淚鈥檓 still navigating that legacy of not being believed, of being told, 鈥楢re you sure you鈥檙e not dreaming? Are you sure this really happened?鈥� Or 鈥榃hat were you doing there?鈥欌��

As interpersonal violence becomes more widely discussed, survivors like Simmons, community organizers, and social workers are reshaping how to address it. Through anti-carceral approaches in schools, queer-inclusive standards of survivor care, and holistic community responses rooted in anti-oppression, they are embracing the possibility of freeing our communities from violence鈥攁nd putting survivors鈥� needs first.

Surviving the Institution

When Drew Davis experienced sexual violence and sexual harassment in college, they began the school鈥檚 Title IX protocol seeking resources and support. Instead, the process became an exhausting period of having to self-advocate for their basic needs. 鈥淭he violence and harm caused by the institution that I attended really was so much worse than what had originally happened,鈥� they say.

, the civil rights law protecting those in federally funded education programs from sex-based discrimination, is widely recognized for helping address gender-based violence in schools. But the narrowed the definition of 鈥渟exual harassment鈥� and limited the types of sexual misconduct universities were required to investigate. These updated guidelines of sexual violence than survivors themselves. 

Though new regulations under President Joe Biden鈥檚 administration include , Davis says it is not enough to rely on Title IX to end gender-based violence in schools: 鈥淭he institution bears such a large responsibility for the harm and the trauma that is being enacted on, through, and against students on a daily basis.鈥�

Enter , a survivor-led project by Advocates for Youth that provides education, training, organizing, and direct support to students seeking more understanding about Title IX. As an organizer for Know Your IX, Davis helps build and advocate for community-based support systems that 鈥渋nsulate students from institutional violence.鈥� In 2021, the project released a report that showed who reported violence to their schools experienced a 鈥渟ubstantial disruption鈥� to their education, including leaves of absence, transferring, or dropping out altogether.

But Davis says organizers are developing the knowledge and resources to change those numbers. This includes challenging an institutional culture that conflates self-advocacy with empowerment. 鈥淚nstitutions, and folks who are higher up in administration, really value this idea that self-advocacy is a good thing, and that students should be able to be independent and do it themselves,鈥� Davis says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 that whole American 鈥榩ull yourself up by the bootstraps鈥� vibe and belief that [are] really violent. And I think that鈥檚 what is keeping these systems where they are.鈥�

To counter this, Know Your IX advocates for and empowers survivors to receive support that is responsive to their individual needs and experiences, including having confidential advocates at schools 鈥渨ho have the ability and institutional authority to navigate and move the institution to support a survivor however they need.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Those needs may not always be obvious, and for some survivors, their needs might require nixing the punitive, carceral methods schools often use to address violence. One confidential campus advocate drove more than an hour to buy wish paper from a craft store so that a survivor could burn it as part of their healing process. 鈥淭hat is abolition. It catered to the individual鈥檚 needs and their healing in such a specific way that I could never have anticipated,鈥� Davis says. 鈥淏eing responsive 鈥� that鈥檚 the key.鈥�

Know Your IX not only addresses sexual violence on college campuses; the organization also works with students in K鈥�12 schools. Davis is creating a workbook that will help middle and high school students better understand Know Your IX鈥檚 abolitionist approach. 鈥淸K鈥�12 students] don鈥檛 live [at school] in the same way that you do on a college campus,鈥� Davis says. 鈥淭hey don鈥檛 have access to the press like a lot of college students do鈥� or 鈥渇unding to do organizing.鈥�

As a result, K鈥�12 survivors are invisibilized. 鈥淓very single person needs to challenge that and needs to start thinking about how they can value young people and value children in a way that really holds them, and is just like, 鈥榊eah, you are a full human, too,鈥欌�� Davis says. 鈥淭here is something so profound about when young people see something that is wrong鈥攁nd name it as wrong鈥攖hat is such an excellent moral register for us.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Revolutionizing Queer Survivor Care

While are now protected from gender-based violence at the federal level, lawmakers continue to dehumanize queer communities. More than 500 anti-LGBTQ bills have been introduced, defeated, or are advancing in states across the country. 鈥淎 lot of trans folks are literally afraid to go outside of their house鈥攆or work, for school, for help, for anything,鈥� says michael munson, co-founder and executive director of , a nonprofit organization that empowers violence-focused service providers and crisis-intervention groups to offer culturally responsive, trauma-informed care for trans and nonbinary survivors. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not just the legislation,鈥� he says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the culture that we鈥檙e living in.鈥�

Since 2009, FORGE has received federal funding to concentrate on the sexual and domestic violence that trans and nonbinary people experience, as well as stalking and hate crimes. It originally began as a general peer-to-peer support group for transmasculine individuals, then pivoted after munson noticed that at least half of group-meeting attendees were survivors. In 2004, focused on trans survivors of sexual assault. Now it offers training and technical assistance to medical providers, coalitions, and organizations, and direct support to survivors. 

Trans and nonbinary survivors are often failed by organizations stuck in a gender binary. 鈥淪ome of the barriers that we see are just total denial of care,鈥� munson says. 鈥淧eople literally get turned away at the door if they seek help.鈥� Or, survivors may not seek care out of fear of discrimination. 鈥淭hey might be asked for an ID that doesn鈥檛 match how they appear,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hey might be trying to seek shelter and people say, 鈥極h, well, we only shelter [non-trans] women and men.鈥欌�� 

But FORGE is disentangling trans-exclusive care and forming partnerships with other organizations to normalize inclusion wherever a survivor may seek support. One partnership with the helps train nurses across the country to provide proper care to trans survivors. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 helping people see beyond the binary, because they鈥檙e literally going to be able to see real-life trans people鈥� in their curriculum. It can encourage a nurse to allow a trans patient to self-swab when collecting evidence after an assault, which 鈥渆mpowers the agency of that person,鈥� munson says. 鈥淚 view that as the standard of care, which is different [from] the cultural response.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

To munson, survivor-centered care is culturally responsive care. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 think it can be care if it鈥檚 not culturally responsive,鈥� he says. 鈥淎ll of those words go together. And if they aren鈥檛 all there, it鈥檚 going to be a disservice to survivors.鈥�

Queer folks are also meeting the needs of their local survivor communities through community-based organizing and service work. In Boston, (TNLR) works to end partner abuse in LGBTQ, kink, and polyamorous communities. 鈥淔olks can live at the intersections of these communities,鈥� says Cristina Dones, TNLR鈥檚 director of outreach, education, and organizing programs. 鈥淔or folks who practice kink, there鈥檚 this idea that 鈥� if there鈥檚 abuse involved, that鈥檚 because you wanted it. There鈥檚 this stigma that polyamorous communities are promiscuous.鈥�

Dones first joined TNLR around 2011. She worked for the organization鈥檚 , responded to prison mail, and conducted outreach at events throughout Massachusetts. She credits TNLR, a survivor-led organization, with helping her to process how normalized domestic violence was in her childhood home. 鈥淚 actually didn鈥檛 even realize it was abuse until I took [TNLR]鈥檚 training,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hen I realized it was happening in some of my relationships as well.鈥�

Other services TNLR provides include 鈥攁 30-day emergency shelter program for survivors and their families鈥攁nd a transitional housing program, which provides up to two years of rental assistance. TNLR also offers telephone-based for LGBTQ survivors of partner abuse, as well as specifically BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) LGBTQ survivors; educational for survivors and service providers; and . It does not require that a survivor want to leave an abusive partner to receive services.

teaches domestic violence service providers how to 鈥渄istinguish between who the survivor is and who the abuser is,鈥� Dones says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 about one person trying to maintain power and control, and one person trying to reclaim control over their own life.鈥� , TNLR links partner abuse to the 鈥渓arger violent culture which condones and rewards interpersonal, institutional, and imperialist abuse of power.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淎buse, in all of its forms, is informed by oppression,鈥� says Dones. 鈥淭he tactics behind each to maintain power and control are the same. If we understand that, then we can change our approach to center the survivor.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

The (AVP) is another anti-oppression organization using education, organizing, counseling, and advocacy to empower LGBTQ and HIV-impacted survivors of all kinds of violence. It offers a free , , and , and is the coordinator for the . 

鈥淸AVP] really puts up-front into public consciousness 鈥� that violence does not exist in a silo,鈥� says Aditi Bhattacharya, AVP鈥檚 deputy director of client services. 鈥淭he biggest challenges right now continue, unfortunately but not surprisingly, to be the same challenges as 40 [to] 45 years ago鈥攚hich are people鈥檚 reproductive rights, people鈥檚 rights to exist in the identities that they want, people鈥檚 rights to express their identity, their orientation, their truth, and their reality early on鈥攁nd feel supported by their schools, by their families, by their churches.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

As a whole, the organization鈥檚 teams work together to develop a holistic approach to violence. 鈥淲e figure out among each other how we can actually balance what a collaborative community response within AVP looks like.鈥� This often means recognizing and adapting to a survivor鈥檚 experience with both interpersonal and systemic violence. 鈥淥ur legal team has had clients that they have held for more than 10 years,鈥� Bhattacharya says. One client was an immigrant whose needs 鈥渢raversed the spectrum.鈥� 鈥淭here was immigration-related support, systems-related support 鈥� there were benefits-related issues connected to housing, connected to violence,鈥� she says. 鈥淭his entire arc of this human being鈥檚 experience as an immigrant coming in with all of their identities and experiencing the Venn diagram of violences 鈥� is one example of how we鈥檝e been doing this work.鈥�

Reimagining Accountability

In addition to helping survivors navigate systems, AVP holds a support group for people who identify as being at risk of causing harm鈥攁 preventative measure that isn鈥檛 rooted in criminal justice. 鈥淐riminal justice kind of colonizes the movement of people who鈥檝e experienced violence having the right, and the share of voice, to determine what healing would look like for them,鈥� she says. 鈥淭he country at large is slowly but surely recognizing that there needs to be a true reexamination of how systems have been allowed to exist and dictate the terms of healing.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Policing and prisons have been repeatedly exposed for their perpetuation of systematic, anti-Black violence. But they also carry an unpayable debt for the ways in which they reproduce abuse. More than are sexually abused each year in the U.S. Abolitionists have strengthened calls to end incarceration because of it. Still, it can be challenging for some to imagine alternatives to addressing sexual violence. 

Though Simmons was raised in a radical household, she once believed incarceration to be the solution for rape. 鈥淭hat whole journey of making the [NO! documentary] helped me to see that no prison is going to stop rape,鈥� she says. But the onus of figuring out what to do with those who cause harm shouldn鈥檛 be on survivors. Rather, 鈥淗ow do we, as a community, hold the harm-doers accountable?鈥� Simmons asks. Part of this, she says, is encouraging people to think about the spent on policing and prisons. 鈥淚f we siphoned off a fraction of that money and put it into counseling, healing鈥攆or clearly the survivors but also for the harm-doers鈥攖hat, for me, is what survivor-centered accountability can look like.鈥� Another part is giving survivors the space to use their personal experiences as the foundation for how we think about accountability.

In 2019, Simmons published , an anthology from AK Press featuring the works of 40 Black diasporic survivors, ranging in sexuality and gender, tasked to 鈥渆nvision how we can disrupt and end this epidemic without relying on the criminal justice system.鈥� The project was born out of her own work holding her parents accountable for their lack of response to her step-grandfather鈥檚 abuse. 鈥淲e learn in the family to keep things quiet 鈥� to protect the family,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the first institution. Then it just ripples out to the school, to the church, the mosque, or synagogue, to the entertainer 鈥� the politician.鈥� To Simmons, accountability requires that we not only focus on one individual as responsible. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like plucking a leaf off a tree. We have to focus on the community [and] the structures that allow it to happen.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淲e really need to be [doing] a lot of cross-movement organizing,鈥� Davis says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the only way that we鈥檙e going to get anything done鈥攊f it鈥檚 happening everywhere.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

While survivors like Simmons and Davis make way for decarceration, Bhattacharya emphasizes the need for organizations like AVP. 鈥淚n the movement in anti-violence, especially community-based programs that work with multiple marginalized communities like LGBTQIA+ people, we do need more resources that seek to have these conversations 鈥� on our terms, informed by us,鈥� she says. 鈥淣ot dictated by mainstream systems.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

This shift will determine whether collective healing and liberation can happen. 鈥淚t remains to be seen, because it also means that it turns the current, existing economy of anti-violence work right on its head,鈥� she says. In the meantime, centering survivors brings us one step closer. 

Our Ancestors鈥� lives are intricately woven with the seasonal availability of food, and each cycle was celebrated. Ethical harvesting and foraging techniques have been the cornerstone of their approach, encompassing pruning, coppicing, reseeding, fertilizing, and burning. These practices are not mere acts of sustenance but rituals of reciprocity, practiced with gratitude and foresight, ensuring the continuing vitality of the land and its inhabitants. 

Indigenous communities that identify as 鈥渁gricultural鈥� have long ensured food sustainability through careful observation and preservation during seasonal changes. Discerning the best specimens to save for future planting and eating is a key aspect of natural resource management and agricultural traditions. 

鈥淭hat made the difference between whether an agricultural community lived or didn鈥檛 live,鈥� says Terry Maresca (Mohawk), a professor and family physician with more than three decades of practice who integrates Western medicine and Indigenous plant medicine. 鈥淭hat really took skill to be able to discern that, and to save that and preserve that.鈥�

鈥淭hat is the seed saving and the gifting that has gone on for generations, and how those seeds and foods came to us鈥攂ecause someone loved them into existence and preserved them for us,鈥� she said on a recent episode of . Understanding the historical context of food cultivation unveils the wisdom embedded in our heritage, nurturing not only the land but also the health of communities.听

As we stand at the threshold of modernity, the relevance of ancestral cultivation practices resonates more than ever. Integrating this knowledge into contemporary agriculture鈥檚 efforts to engage in regenerative methods offers a pathway toward resilience. It is a journey of rediscovery that gives the credit for innovation where it is due鈥攖o the Ancestors. 

This is a moment where we can collectively reclaim our connection to the land and heal a colonized food system. By embracing sustainable food practices inspired by ancestral skill, we subsequently embrace a vision for the health of future generations. Our call to action echoes through the ages, urging us to tend to the Earth with care and appreciation. 

The essence of our collective well-being lies in the interconnected webs of food, health, and the environment. Let us embrace the truth that sustains us鈥攁 truth rooted in reverence for the land and its bounty. In cultivating our foods, we become part of a long legacy of reciprocity, nurturing both body and spirit. Let us tread lightly, with gratitude and humility, as we weave a sustainable future guided by the timeless proficiency of our Ancestors.  

鈥淲ild鈥� food harvesting has become a trend, and as an educator, I鈥檓 deeply concerned that sharing this knowledge might lead to overharvesting and exploitation. Ethical harvesting begins with knowledge and respect. If you choose to search for 鈥渨ild鈥� foods, advocate for our natural resources by fostering a sustainable relationship with the Earth and future generations. 

Here鈥檚 a recipe for ethical harvesting:

1. Learn to identify plants accurately. Seek guidance from experienced harvesters.
2. Always harvest from clean environments and make sure you have permission to be there.听
3. Take only what you need and harvest during the peak seasons for the best quality. 
4. Use all of what you take, minimize waste, and honor nature鈥檚 gifts.
5. Show gratitude by making an offering of water, saying a prayer, or cleaning up the area.

As a high schooler in Texas, a state with , living and learning under the fear of gun violence is the norm. Instead of preventing a massacre, officials in my state waste instruction time forcing us to prepare for one, from monthly lockdown drills to increasingly policed campuses. As these officials shy away from regulating guns鈥攃ompletely ignoring the drastic effects the impending threat of gun violence has on our mental health鈥攕tudents, myself included, fall between the cracks. 

One week after the 2019 shooting, we were set to return to school. But instead of the giddiness I usually felt on the first day of school, the open wound of the massacre pushed fear to the forefront of my mind. In the months following the massacre, I was filled with fear about leaving my house, even to buy necessities like uniforms and school supplies. I couldn鈥檛 enter big shopping centers, malls, or even public parks. But most of my dread came from attending school.

Instead of working on school assignments, I focused on finding a seat far away from the door or a glass window. I wouldn鈥檛 leave the classroom and avoided using the school bathroom in case there might be an emergency. After months of constant fear, the COVID-19 lockdown was a welcome reprieve. 

Three years after the shooting, when the dust had finally begun to settle and it felt as though my community was healing, we were hit with the devastating news of the in Uvalde, Texas, that took the lives of 19 children and two teachers. Though there were many other mass shootings between El Paso and Uvalde, this massacre hit too close to home, not only because it was in my state, but because it reminded me our schools aren鈥檛 secure. 

Uvalde鈥檚 victims could very well have been me and my peers. All I could think of was another massacre, another community facing more death, more pain, more fear, more 鈥渢houghts and prayers.鈥� Most of all, more of my state doing absolutely nothing to prevent the next shooting. 

As of 2021, Texas no longer requires a license to carry a firearm, making it easier to get a gun than to get a puppy. In no functioning world should it be easier to obtain a lethal weapon than a pet.鈥�

As of , Texas no longer requires a license to carry a firearm, making it easier to get a gun than to get a . In no functioning society should it be easier to obtain a lethal weapon than a pet. As of 2022, are the in children between the ages of 0 and 19 in the United States, confirming the fear felt by young people like me. We cannot expect to lower instances of gun violence if our state lawmakers maintain their negligent approach. 

Meanwhile, students like myself across the country are envisioning a world in which classrooms are used for learning instead of for hiding. 鈥淚f I didn鈥檛 have to worry about gun violence, I think I would have a little more trust in authority figures or law enforcement,鈥� says Scotty Meza, a sophomore at Young Women鈥檚 Academy (YWA) in El Paso, Texas. 鈥淚 feel like, as a Texas student, the solution is so easy, and that鈥檚 why it鈥檚 so frustrating.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Tiffany Correa, a sophomore at YWA, agrees, saying, 鈥淚 wouldn鈥檛 have to constantly look for the closest exit door, or what position in a room would be the hardest angle to shoot. Freedom from gun violence to me means that we limit who can get a gun.鈥�

For Sravya Reddy Guda, a sophomore at Parkway West High School in Ballwin, Missouri, a gun-free world is a world where 鈥渟tudents aren鈥檛 afraid of opening a school door out of fear of a shooter being on the other side, and parents don鈥檛 have to worry if a tragic accident that happened to another family
is going to happen to their own.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

鈥淚t is the difference between constantly being stressed and being relaxed over something that should be as simple as getting an education,鈥� expresses Aruja Misra, a sophomore at Coronado High School in El Paso, Texas.

It seems as though every time we get close to healing from a massacre, we are bombarded with the pain of the next one and propelled into an endless cycle of gun violence. 

This has to stop. We should be able to attend school knowing we will return home at the end of the day. Schools should provide a safe environment rather than serve as a place of anxiety, and the only way to achieve true freedom for students is to protect us instead of guns.  

College campuses in the United States are considered ,听and those who graduate .

But the type of education matters. A found that alumni from U.K. private schools were twice as likely to vote conservative as public school alumni, even after accounting for the fact that wealthier, more conservative people tend to choose private schools.

A found that students with more experiences with diversity鈥攅specially through diversity classes and positive interactions with diverse peers鈥攁re more likely to think critically (and confidently). 

Even those who believe ideas like critical race theory are 鈥渋ndoctrination鈥� agree that learning about social justice鈥攆ormally or informally鈥攍eads people to understand that systemic inequities are the cause of most socioeconomic differences. In 2023, social scientists from the conservative Manhattan Institute that students taught that the Black鈥搘hite pay gap is mainly due to were 14 percentage points more likely to agree with affirmative action policies in hiring. 

Exposure to multiple perspectives is also valuable in media consumption. Viewers who rely on networks known for misleading coverage鈥攍ike Fox News鈥攖end to take in fewer outside sources, while viewers on the liberal end of the spectrum .

Exposing people to more truthful news sources can push their values to be more progressive. hundreds of Fox News viewers, mostly Trump supporters, became measurably more progressive after being paid $15 an hour to watch up to seven hours of CNN a week for four weeks in 2020. 

While truth fosters justice, it turns out that justice also fosters truth. In , researchers found that children and adolescents with cognitive empathy鈥攚ho could imagine themselves in another鈥檚 shoes鈥攚ere less likely to deceive others for their own benefit. 

The truth can set us free.  

But 2.5 million children across the United States are enrolled in districts without libraries, . On top of that, too many books . Of the thousands of children鈥檚 books published in 2023, only 12% had a Black primary character, 10% Asian, 7% Latine, and 2% Indigenous, according to the Cooperative Children鈥檚 Book Center. 

Since books can reflect and , as well as give them a view into worlds unlike their own, it鈥檚 important to expand beyond the whiteness that has long dominated children鈥檚 literature. These radical librarians, educators, and bibliophiles are working to get books in the hands of more children, and ensuring the characters in those books look and live like them.

Iesha Malone, the Book Lady of South Side

Iesha Malone is on the front lines of increasing book access in Chicago鈥檚 South Side. 鈥淩oseland is one of the and one of the most violence-stricken,鈥� Malone explains. Growing up there, she was instilled with the importance of reading by her father, and she turned to books as a form of escape. 

As Malone, her sons, and her neighbors were demonstrating in the 2020 uprising for Black lives and then rebuilding in the aftermath, she realized she had to travel outside her neighborhood to find books with meaningful representation. As a teacher and reading specialist, she began dreaming about bringing these kinds of books to Roseland. 鈥淚 wanted new books鈥攂ooks that represented the community. Books with Black protagonists. Books with people who went through stuff and overcame,鈥� she says. 

And so, in 2020, Malone started Rose Caf茅, named after Tupac Shakur鈥檚 poem 鈥�.鈥� 鈥淚t talks about how roses and beautiful things still can rise through adversity,鈥� Malone .

Malone put out and was overwhelmed by the response. In the early days, she distributed books by hand, including leaving them on public transit for children to pick up. Rose Caf茅 has since grown into a series of pop-up shops at community events throughout the city. To date, Rose Caf茅 has given away 15,000 books, conducts , and hosts book clubs. 鈥淭he dialogue between these different genres of women鈥攐lder women, white women, Black women鈥攚as really good, and I had to keep going on with it,鈥� Malone says.

Malone currently runs the organization alone, while teaching full time. But she鈥檚 still dreaming about Rose Caf茅鈥檚 future: Malone is , which she imagines as a coffee shop, bookstore, and gathering space for her community.  

Ultimately, Malone hopes that increasing book access will help to counter violence in the community. 鈥淎ccess to literacy, reading more books, and seeing how some people have overcome and done things the nonviolent way brings a different perspective on how to change things,鈥� Malone says. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a better way to do it.鈥�

Storybook Maze, Radical Street Librarian

When Storybook Maze was a student, her teacher read aloud Pride and Prejudice and 鈥渙pened the road of reading鈥� for her. As an adult, Maze read aloud to her nieces on her front stoop in Baltimore, and neighborhood children began to gather around to listen. Some said they did not have books in their homes. She realized that her neighborhood was severely lacking in . 鈥淚 had assumed that urban areas are not seen as book deserts, but they can be,鈥� Maze says, adding that the presence of a library does not always mean children have the ability to access it.

Maze decided to shift her career from English teacher to librarian, which brought her to multiple branches in the greater Baltimore area. Seeing how every community鈥檚 needs were different inspired her to start thinking of creative, out-of-the-box approaches to introducing books to young people鈥攍ike installing free book vending machines around the city. 鈥淥ne of my favorite parts of the job is seeing the kids light up when they see a book that represents and reflects them,鈥� Maze says. 鈥淧eople come back more and more, because I pair them with the perfect book for them that opens up that world of reading.鈥�

Maze hosts pop-up book giveaways in and around Baltimore, always curating the collection to represent the community she鈥檚 in. At an event in a predominantly Spanish-speaking community, Maze brought a collection of books in Spanish. A father at the event received a book and told Maze that with it, he would be able to read a book to his child for the first time since they traveled to the United States. 鈥淗e was tearing up,鈥� Maze recalls.

Maze is now as a way to combine her pop-up giveaways with her street-corner story times鈥斺�渁n ice cream truck but with books,鈥� she calls it. Maze hopes that her story will inspire other radical street librarians to join her mission in their own communities. 鈥淪tart small, even if you have only a picnic table, and see how it goes.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Mychal Threets, aka Mychal the Librarian

Mychal Threets is on a mission to spread 鈥渓ibrary joy.鈥� The solace he found in books, and the characters he grew to love, helped him through his childhood mental health challenges. 鈥淚 loved Junie B. Jones and Encyclopedia Brown,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 think they just meant so much to me because of struggling to make friends and fit in.鈥� As a college and grad student, Threets worked at a local library in the Bay Area and went on to work in multiple branches of the Solano County Library, 鈥渇rom a shelver to supervisor,鈥� Threets says. 

During the COVID-19 pandemic, Threets started a to share that the library was open, and to raise awareness of the resources the library offered. With excitement and the characteristic 鈥淵es!鈥� that has become his trademark, he came to be known as Mychal the Librarian. 

Threets鈥� library joy is contagious, as evidenced by his nearly . Threets鈥� mission and message goes deeper than fun, though. He wants to encourage reading by continuing to establish the library as a place of belonging and inclusivity. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the beauty of literacy, of access to books, that we all have these stories,鈥� he says. 鈥淎ll of our voices should be heard.鈥�

In March 2024, Threets left his job in the public library system to care for his mental health. Threets, who has , views his career move as analogous to putting your own oxygen mask on before helping others. 鈥淚 always encourage people to treat the library people with kindness,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e superheroes who wear cardigans instead of capes.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Threets is now using his platform to help destigmatize mental health issues. 鈥淭here鈥檚 no shame in taking medication,鈥� , and goes on to commend his viewers for taking care of themselves and choosing to stay another day. 鈥淟ive, laugh, Lexapro!鈥� he says with a smile.

Threets, who recently became PBS鈥檚 resident librarian, got to the aardvark, whose library card is tattooed on Threets鈥� arm. Threets continues to share videos and find library joy 鈥渞emembering the truth that they belong in their local library just as they are.鈥�

Whether talking about books or mental health, Threets鈥� main message remains the same: 鈥淩eally all I鈥檓 doing is just trying to get people to remember that they do matter.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Still, despite the caliber and depth of this reportage鈥攁nd the vital work of organizations like the and (the latter of which I am a member)鈥攖he media industry often leaves LGBTQ reporters, stories, and subjects in the cold. 

鈥淚 could count on one hand the number of trans journalists I know,鈥� says Lex McMenamin, Teen Vogue鈥檚 news and politics editor. We鈥檙e talking over Zoom about the state of journalism, LGBTQ rights, and the 2024 presidential election. When I name the other journalists and media workers I interviewed for this article, McMenamin nods, already knowing them all. 

A 2024 report from confirms McMenamin鈥檚 perception. The report found that in 2023 The New York Times鈥�often considered a gold standard in journalism鈥攅xcluded trans voices from 66% of its articles about anti-trans legislation. Additionally, 18% of those articles platformed anti-trans misinformation and activists without sufficient fact-checking, context, and in some cases, disclosures of sources with extremist anti-trans backgrounds. This lack of competency isn鈥檛 just reserved for 鈥�.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

In 2021, GLAAD gave major media outlets, including CBS News, CNN, The Hill, The New York Times, and Newsweek a 鈥溾�� for their coverage (or lack thereof) of the historic , which would have prohibited discrimination on the basis of sex, gender identity, and sexual orientation at a federal level.

As the 2024 U.S. presidential election approaches, this media landscape matters more than ever. Accurate, factual, and culturally responsive journalism protects the public, safeguards democracy, and can help push back against efforts to use LGBTQ people for political leverage on both sides of the aisle. On one hand, many Republicans to whip up their base and , though these strategies actually aren鈥檛 effective. 

Lex McMenamin

Teen Vogue鈥檚 news and politics editor

鈥淲e鈥檙e up against some really dated and unuseful conceptions around objectivity.鈥�

And on the other, Democrats often see LGBTQ people as a core, , reliably blue voting bloc, regardless of on any promises to our communities. Ironically, historically marginalized people often face blame during election cycles for not voting in greater numbers, despite the many citizens, especially those in Black and Brown communities, experience.

In fact, it is often our identities that make queer journalists (and others from historically marginalized communities) so uniquely equipped to meet the challenges of this media landscape and provide the nuanced, equitable reporting that everyone鈥攏ot just LGBTQ communities鈥攕o desperately needs. Journalists with lived experience in the communities on which they report can sniff out sources with a shoddy agenda, are likely to avoid harmful stereotypes, and can use their experiences to inform how they approach a story, asking pointed questions that outsiders may not consider. 

At a time when LGBTQ people are censored and sensationalized on and off the page, it is queer and trans journalists who are able to flip the script, expose tired and violent narratives, cultivate equitable relationships with sources, and recenter our humanity.

First and foremost, journalism needs to reckon with its own around 鈥渙bjectivity,鈥� which mandates reporters be neutral, third-party observers. In practice, this often means a reporter鈥檚 identity, contextual knowledge, or firsthand experience of an issue is seen as a detriment to their coverage, rather than a simple fact of their existence鈥攁nd a benefit to their reportage.  

I鈥檝e experienced this firsthand. There have been people and stories I鈥檝e been able to access solely because of my identity; some people have been so burned by journalists and their poor handling of LGBTQ stories they will only agree to speak with members of their own community, who have an established history of fair and accurate coverage. 

鈥淲e鈥檙e up against some really dated and unuseful conceptions around objectivity,鈥� says McMenamin. 鈥淲e hear from reporters at local outlets who are maybe the one out person at the office and are being told they can鈥檛 cover book bans because they鈥檙e queer.鈥�

As a result, reporters who are not white, male, and/or cisgender are often prevented from reporting on their own communities, covering their beat, or providing factual context or relevant critique because of those identities. After the 2016 election, for example, trans journalist Lewis Raven Wallace wrote a Medium post criticizing objectivity standards鈥攁nd was promptly . 

Likewise, in 2020, Alexis Johnson, a Black reporter at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, was barred from after a tweet, which her editors alleged expressed bias. The end result is that the journalists who are often most qualified to report on their beat are held to a punitive standard, while their often cis white male counterparts are still seen as 鈥渘eutral.鈥�

Likewise, in 2020, Alexis Johnson, a Black reporter at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, was barred from after a tweet, which her editors alleged expressed bias. The end result is that the journalists who are often most qualified to report on their beat are held to a punitive standard, while their often cis white male counterparts are still seen as 鈥渘eutral.鈥�

Imara Jones

Journalist, news producer, and creator of TransLash Media

鈥淚t鈥檚 ridiculous to say that because you鈥檙e trans you can鈥檛 report on the trans community. Who better to report on the trans community than trans people, because you know your beat.鈥�

鈥淚t鈥檚 ridiculous to say that because you鈥檙e trans you can鈥檛 report on the trans community,鈥� says Imara Jones, journalist, news producer, and creator of TransLash Media. 鈥淲ho better to report on the trans community than trans people, because you know your beat. No one ever says because you are a white man in New York City that you can鈥檛 cover other white men in New York City.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Aside from these problematic norms around objectivity, there are other forces shaping how queer and trans stories are told and by whom. 

In her investigative podcast series , Jones and her team track the ways anti-trans ideas bleed into mainstream media and politics. Through their work, they uncovered a 鈥渄isinformation ecosystem鈥濃�攃reated and funded by a shadowy and , the mega-wealthy, and other right-wing organizations and politicians鈥攖hat effectively disseminates anti-trans lies through some of the in the U.S. (Disclosure: I worked with TransLash Media as a News and Narrative Fellow in Spring 2023, and Jones edited my work for the site.)

Before long, anti-trans advocates (and their pseudoscience) in outlets like The New York Times or The Atlantic, which publish articles that are then in legal proceedings, forming a violent feedback loop between media, policy, and public opinion.

Sports are the perfect example. Freelance journalist Frankie de la Cretaz says sports media was completely unprepared to cover the anti-trans rhetoric that has overtaken women鈥檚 sports. 鈥淭he anti-trans movement, particularly around sports, has been able to leverage sports as one of the few [and] first places they could gain ground,鈥� de la Cretaz says. Trump and other GOP candidates, for example, are to exclude trans women from sports teams.

鈥淲e have seen it coming for years,鈥� says de la Cretaz. 鈥淎nd now it is here and publications just do not have the ability to cover it with the attention or nuance that it deserves. … There鈥檚 really no trans people in the room.鈥�

Frankie de la Cretaz

Freelance journalist

鈥淧ublications just do not have the ability to cover [the anti-trans movement] with the attention or nuance it deserves. There鈥檚 really no trans people in the room.鈥�

This is especially concerning as many people lack the media literacy skills required to identify poor journalism or disinformation. , 62% of adults lacked any opportunity to learn about or analyze media messaging in high school. Even for media consumers who do have the skills, many lack the time to research the backgrounds of the writer, publication, and each source or expert included or excluded in the article and analyze for bias. (Sites like , however, cover and debunk anti-trans messaging in the media and beyond.)

鈥淐hristian nationalist media is the singular most powerful media in the country,鈥� says Jones. 鈥淚t has like no other media. There鈥檚 no other rival to it because it acts as a continuous pipeline from the darkest corners of the internet to more mainstream places on the internet that are then fed into places with enormous reach like Daily Caller and Daily Wire.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Taken together, this means many newsrooms and media outlets are not only siphoning qualified reporters from some of the most urgent political issues in the country, but also that the industry itself is unable to properly identify and respond to coordinated threats from extremist, anti-LGBTQ factions. And this says nothing of the slashed budgets, relentless layoffs, strikes, and union busting that undermine journalism as a whole.  

This election season, LGBTQ journalists are gearing up to tell accurate and nuanced stories in their local communities, on the campaign trail, and across the country鈥攂ut they need support, too.

Daniela Capistrano

Media worker, editor, founder of DCAP Media

鈥淚nvesting in local, ongoing reporting is how we鈥檙e getting more stories about resistance from the Midwest and the South.鈥�

James Factora, a staff writer for the LGBTQ-focused digital publication Them, says they鈥檒l be focusing on the community organizers ensuring there are 鈥渘etworks of care for queer and trans people,鈥� regardless of who鈥檚 in the White House. 鈥淭he most marginalized trans people, namely Black trans women and trans women of color, are still going to experience systemic violence, and it鈥檚 important to highlight that the people who really have our backs are our communities,鈥� Factora says.

Daniela Capistrano, a media worker, editor, and founder of the digital strategy company DCAP Media, says there needs to be more public funding for and emphasis on local journalism鈥攅specially since so much anti-LGBTQ legislation is being proposed and passed in the South and Midwest. Investing in local, ongoing reporting is 鈥渉ow we鈥檙e getting more stories about resistance from the Midwest and the South,鈥� they add. 

On an industry level, Capistrano says increased union representation for media workers and more equitable access to grants, mentorship, and funded opportunities would also support journalists and their work. While the process of unionizing can be complex, Capistrano points to the as a helpful resource for workers to begin exploring their options. 

For Jones, protecting trans people requires two things: telling trans stories from a range of trans people and telling the world what trans people are experiencing. And the stakes are high, she explains: 鈥淲e think that those two things together are the way that we can both save trans lives and protect democracy.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Financial education and financial literacy tools are often offered as solutions for fighting wealth inequality. But this sleight of hand replaces the macro with the micro and disguises a larger societal dilemma: Can economic inequality be solved through individual-level discipline and focus?

To be clear, there is nothing wrong with people making (and sticking to) budgets, learning about saving money, or planning for retirement. Using the principles of financial literacy to successfully manage finances is a foundational skill in a capitalistic society like the U.S.; learning the basic rules of this uber-complex financial system can help avoid costly financial errors. However, some financial liberation messages are actually anti-Black rhetoric dressed up as helpful hints. The result is cash-strapped Black Americans being lured into risky ventures they cannot afford, often by celebrities, to achieve a fantasy of financial literacy.

There is no universal definition of financial literacy. Many people believe it is the ability to manage one鈥檚 money well. Still others suggest it is related to , like budgeting, saving, managing debt, and planning for retirement. Within the Black community, financial literacy is defined as something that includes investing in the stock market, buying and selling real estate, and achieving the elusive goal of building generational wealth.   

One of the ways purveyors of financial education attract followers is by using celebrity to capitalize on the Black community鈥檚 rich dreams and respectability-based fears. Recently, , a morning show with millions of monthly listeners and viewers, offered a key example of this pattern. DJ Envy, one of The Breakfast Club鈥檚 co-hosts, used his position on the show to promote his part-time career as a real estate guru. DJ Envy partnered with Cesar Pina to teach mostly Black and Latinx audience members how to buy houses to fix up and either flip or rent. 

In October 2023, federal prosecutors in New Jersey with one count of wire fraud. Investors have also filed at least 20 lawsuits against Pina for allegedly roping them into a Ponzi scheme and defrauding them out of millions. Though DJ Envy insists he had no knowledge of Pina鈥檚 involvement in any alleged wrongdoing, he still leveraged his visibility to introduce millions of listeners to an alleged scammer. As of 2020, Black families had , so losing money in real estate, like did, poses a significant risk.听

The past decade has also introduced cryptocurrency and digital assets (e.g., Bitcoin and non-fungible tokens, or NFTs) as staples in many financial education curricula. For example, , one of the largest Black financial literacy platforms, has focused heavily on crypto content, both on its
shows and in its courses. 

Earn Your Leisure鈥檚 has devoted more than 15% of its episodes to discussions about crypto, Bitcoin, and NFTs. Earn Your Leisure is not alone in pushing crypto. In June 2022, Jay-Z and Jack Dorsey launched , a 12-week 鈥渇inancial literacy鈥� course that gifted its graduates $1,000 in Bitcoin.

Perhaps these types of content and programs are one of the reasons a found Black investors are more than twice as likely as white investors to say cryptocurrency was their first investment. This statistic is alarming because makes it an unreliable investment for most people, including housing project residents who may need access to quick cash. Additionally, .听

Short- and long-term planning, as well as risk mitigation, should be key tenets of financial education. But programs like Bitcoin Academy have put those who are least prepared to handle precarious financial ventures in some of the market鈥檚 riskiest instruments.

In addition to encouraging high-risk investing, many financial literacy experts also traffic in anti-Black tropes. Key among them is , founder of the Black Business School, which is not an accredited program but a platform where you can buy his courses on everything from hotel management to homeschooling. Watkins has a history of giving speeches riddled with to his audience of more than 1 million followers across social media platforms. 

Watkins talks to his subscribers about the perceived conspicuous consumption in the Black community: 鈥淚f our people put as much money in the stock market as we put into purchasing fast food, every family would be in half a generation.鈥� Instead of promoting a message about the historical perils of racial capitalism, Watkins focuses on individual actions. He lays the blame of Black economic strife at the feet of Black people rather than the system that created this unequal economic reality.

Black Americans have a history of using ingenious financial strategies to make a dollar out of 15 cents. However, financial education should not require them to take significant risks. Every scheme includes a morsel of truth. Yes, financial education can be beneficial, and many Black people are broke and trying to maintain themselves in spite of challenges. 

But shared identity doesn鈥檛 always lead to solidarity. Celebrity spokespeople are spending an inordinate amount of time lining their own pockets while claiming they鈥檙e offering financial advice 鈥渇or the culture.鈥� We must ask ourselves who we鈥檙e trusting to give us sound financial advice. 

鈥淛ust because you鈥檙e a celebrity doesn鈥檛 mean you have the actual knowledge,鈥� once said. On this point, we agree.听

Stonebreakers is an accidental documentary. In 2020, filmmakers Valerio Ciriaci and Isaak J. Liptzin were working on a piece about the symbolism of Christopher Columbus in the U.S. The uprisings inspired them to expand their focus, as Confederate and colonialist monuments were being .

With expansive shots of the contested landscapes, the film allows viewers to process recent history and reach their own conclusions. While the film clearly has a partisan viewpoint, it avoids preaching and pandering. The filmmakers humanize people who are pro-monument; for instance, it is difficult not to sympathize with Randall Nelson, the master artisan who repairs Columbus statues. 

鈥淲e thought it was important to move beyond a simplistic dichotomy of iconoclasts vs. iconophiles, as it was often portrayed in mainstream media,鈥� Liptzin says. Instead, through the words and actions of pro-monument advocates, the film seeks to parse the ideas in defense of monuments such as Mount Rushmore and historical figures such as Columbus. 

Contrary to popular belief, colonialist and were built relatively recently and aimed to fulfill broader political agendas. While the dates back to 1792, most were not erected until the early 20th century in an attempt to bring Italian Americans into the war project.听

鈥淭he real story about Columbus statues is a story of elites, the prominenti,鈥� which translates as 鈥渢he prominent ones,鈥� says , Ph.D., director of academic and cultural programs at the John D. Calandra Italian American Institute at Queens College, City University of New York. 鈥淭hese were the people who had the political connections, the economic wealth, and the sort of cultural interest to create these statues and monuments.鈥�

Liptzin agrees, noting that Columbus Day didn鈥檛 become a until 1937. 鈥淐olumbus came to symbolize assimilation into an imagined American meritocracy, where [Italian American elites] implicitly positioned themselves in opposition to groups fighting for recognition of social and economic inequalities embedded within that same system.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Similarly, first emerged in the post-Reconstruction period, leading into the establishment of Jim Crow segregation, and later as a response to the .

When monuments are toppled, there are inevitably accusations about history being erased. Stonebreakers convincingly makes the case that the conflicts over historical memory do the opposite. By forcing a more complete look at past events such as of 1800, the Lakota鈥檚 centuries-long , and the struggles of radical , the film encourages a deeper understanding of history.

Stonebreakers goes beyond the issue of removing 鈥減roblematic鈥� statues; instead the film spotlights how the people contesting them are calling on us to examine the connections between historical injustices and the ongoing injustices that sparked the 2020 uprising. 

鈥淲e featured positive examples of anti-racist monument-making to underscore that this movement was not about destruction for its own sake, contrary to some critics鈥� claims,鈥� Ciriaci explains. 鈥淭he process of memorialization can be very meaningful when these projects arise from collective needs and citizen participation, rather than being imposed from above.鈥�

While the most widely known statue removals were carried out by city officials facing public pressure, the protests also generated new monuments and spaces that reject the traditional idea of a single heroic figure. A erected around the block where Floyd was murdered is a poignant example of this process. Renamed George Floyd Square, the area is covered in flowers, murals, a sculpture depicting a raised fist, and even a in the form of a symbolic cemetery filled with more than 100 gravestones bearing the names of Black people killed by the police.

There鈥檚 also the in Richmond, Virginia, which was briefly transformed into protest graffiti by local artists. Eventually, city administrators cleared out these powerful monuments that bore witness to pivotal moments in U.S. history.

There鈥檚 one example of grassroots memorialization that still stands in Richmond: The riverfront path that once led enslaved Africans from boat to market is now dubbed the . The trail contains explaining the history of slavery, offering an opportunity to reflect on the past while thinking about the future. 鈥淚 come to this place because it reminds me of what we survive, of what this river holds, the memory of this river,鈥� says Chelsea Higgs Wise, a Richmond-area activist. She understands that she has to 鈥渃ontinue to revisit these stories and learn more of them because I would not be able to do my work without understanding where my ancestors have come from.鈥�&苍产蝉辫;

Four years since the so-called racial reckoning of 2020, it鈥檚 difficult to discern what it achieved. Perhaps its largest impact is not through immediate policy changes but the ways in which activists have moved toward making their own counter-hegemonic monuments that tell collective stories, incorporate collaborative processes, and relate more directly to the values of the people who live around them.

These themes have carried over to the current war on accurate history teaching, including a proliferation of book bans by conservative politicians. These debates highlight the differences between those who need their history to reflect a triumphalist national perspective and those who challenge national creation myths.

People are also looking at the other that surround us鈥攑laques, street names, the imagery of our holidays鈥攚ith a more discerning eye, recognizing that these too are part of our broader memorial landscape, shaping our understanding of the present as much as they reflect the past. Stonebreakers resists defining the 鈥渞ight鈥� way to memorialize the past, instead encouraging engagement with historical symbols and tracing the lines between their origins and our present. 

You can watch Stonebreakers on Vimeo, Amazon Prime, or Apple TV. 

Abaki Beck is a writer and public health Ph.D. student. Her work has been featured in Bitch, 精东影业, TalkPoverty, Health Affairs, and the books Aftermath: Life in Post-Roe America (She Writes Press, 2022) and Artists Remaking Medicine (Procedure Press, 2023). She is Blackfeet and Little Shell Chippewa.听

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Nico Lang is the creator of and author of American Teenager: How Trans Kids Are Surviving Hate and Finding Joy in a Turbulent Era (Abrams Books, 2024). A former editor at Them, Xtra Magazine, and Out, they鈥檝e also written for Rolling Stone, The New York Times, Esquire, The Guardian, NBC News, and more.听

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Sara Youngblood Gregory is a lesbian journalist, editor, and author. In addition to being a 精东影业 contributor, Youngblood Gregory has published in The New York Times, New York Magazine, The Guardian, Cosmopolitan, and many others. Most recently, they were the recipient of the 2023 Curve and NLGJA Award for Emerging Journalists.听

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Art Contributors

Lak谩n Angelo Ragaza is a queer, Filipinx American photo-based artist and writer based in Brooklyn. His fine art photography is often a response to canonical 鈥済reat master鈥� painting, reversing racial power imbalances and reenacting mythical or historic scenes in contemporary environments. His writing on identity, the arts, and culture has appeared in Vogue, The New York Times, Newsweek, and other publications.

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Weshoyot Alvitre is a Tongva/Scottish writer, comic book artist, and illustrator who grew up close to her tribal homelands and was raised with traditional knowledge that inspires the work she does today. 鈥媁eshoyot has been working in the comics medium for over 20 years.

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Rossana Coro is a data artist composed of 90% water, 3.33% data visualization, 3.33% coding, and 3.33% anxiety. Originally from Italy, she currently lives in Paris, where she works as data visualizer and data analyst. She is very passionate about environmental and equality issues, but mostly about French smelly cheeses.听

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When I was growing up in northeast Louisiana, half-truths and tall tales were as much a part of the cultural landscape as casually displayed Confederate flags, blooming magnolia trees, and pesky mosquito bites. Lying was deemed socially acceptable in many instances; people lived by the adage 鈥渘ever let the truth get in the way of a good story.鈥�

My four siblings and I were accustomed to aunts and uncles sharing countless tales so grandiose that we are still wondering how much was grounded in reality and how much was the result of vivid imaginations.

But my father, born and raised in Chicago, did not esteem this particular Southern tradition. He and my mother had one hard-and-fast rule for their children: absolutely no lying. 

This principle was so deeply ingrained that untruths still unnerve me鈥攅specially from those with the power to influence people, like news organizations. 

As a communications professional committed to uplifting the work of organizations dedicated to collective liberation, I believe the greatest challenges to freedom are disinformation, the rewriting of history for political gain, and the weaponization of people鈥檚 lack of knowledge to further disempower them.

As the new interim executive director of 精东影业, I鈥檓 proud of our coverage, which embodies journalism鈥檚 core tenet to tell the truth鈥攚ithout losing sight of the humanity of the people at the center of our coverage. 

精东影业 is committed to resisting the callous cynicism found in much mainstream media, instead elevating critical context and solutions that are already emerging within communities most impacted by the issues often reduced to mere campaign talking points. 

Our commitment to the 精东影业 audience during this election cycle (and always) is to continue providing accurate reporting grounded in truth, and commentary and context that courageously name the forces trying to divide us. As a media organization, we know that truth-telling is our best shot to fulfill our mission and inspire people to 鈥渂uild a more just, sustainable, and compassionate world.鈥�

Believe that.听

Khalilah R. Elliott

Polling from the (NPU) has found that heading into the election, for many parents of school-aged children. 鈥淭imes are tough, and parents are walking an economic tightrope every single day,鈥� wrote Keri Rodrigues, co-founder and president of the NPU, .

While the U.S. boasts one of the largest economies in the world, it leads high-income countries in the at .听

The good news is that these issues can be addressed through government policies. Past policies and policies pursued in different countries offer an evidence-based blueprint for doing so. 

A recent example of an intervention that lifted kids out of poverty in the U.S. is the, which provided monthly checks to families earning less than $150,000 per year with young children. The program delivered dramatic results, . However, Congress allowed the program to lapse after just one year, and child poverty predictably shot up again.

Canada also saw striking results when it implemented the Canada Child Benefit in 2016, providing monthly, nontaxable payments to low- and middle-income families with kids between the ages of 6 and 17. That program ,,. Similarly, some European countries have reduced the proportion of children at risk of poverty by through universal programs supporting families with children with cash assistance.

Similar programs exist in the U.S., but they are patchwork, and many are still in the testing phases. At the state and local levels, have been launched nationwide since 2017, showing positive effects on kids and families. In Jackson, Mississippi, participants in the fourth cohort of the , which gives $1,000 per month for 12 months to Black mothers, helped them purchase needed shoes and clothes for their children, allowed their kids to participate in more field trips and cultural activities than before, and improved their relationships with their children.听

Beyond direct cash support, universal preschool and childcare programs in some European countries have been shown to , especially . Currently, childcare is one of the for families of young children in the U.S., often rivaling rent. Government spending on early childcare programs can help address poverty, , and support women who pursue careers alongside parenting.

鈥淭he research is pretty clear and universal,鈥� explains Michelle Bezark, a senior researcher at the at Northern Illinois University. 鈥淓arly childhood programs that are well funded have immense long-term benefits for children, families, and society at large.鈥�

The bad news is that if Donald Trump is re-elected, he is not expected to pursue the interventions needed to address the dire issues facing the nation鈥檚 children, such as poverty. Rather, he鈥檚 likely to do the opposite, judging by the presidential playbook drawn up by the Heritage Foundation鈥檚 Project 2025. At least are involved in the project, whose mandate lists protecting children as one of its main goals. Yet Project 2025 promises to reorganize or even eliminate lifelines for families, including subsidized housing, cash assistance, school meals, and Head Start programs.听

鈥淚t would be a disaster,鈥� says Timothy Smeeding, the Lee Rainwater Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Public Affairs and Economics at the University of Wisconsin鈥揗adison and former director of the university鈥檚 Institute for Research on Poverty. 鈥淪ome of these programs are really important, and they would be cut by Project 2025.鈥�

If Trump were elected and Project 2025鈥檚 proposals pursued, that children and families could face worsening impoverishment, hunger, and homelessness. Households with marginalized members, including immigrants, disabled people, and people of color, are the most at-risk under the proposals for families and kids.

Child poverty often manifests as homelessness. More than a million each year nationwide, and tens of millions of kids live in households that . Despite the urgent need to address homelessness among children, the proportion of families benefiting from Housing and Urban Development subsidized housing programs as , the number of affordable housing units falls, and federal housing assistance remains underfunded.

Rather than bolstering subsidized housing programs to keep kids housed, Project 2025 proposes new restrictions on access to these programs. Proposals in Project 2025 would also bar mixed-status households from accessing federal housing subsidies, making families whose members include people with different citizenship or immigration statuses ineligible to receive support. Trump floated the idea of implementing restrictions on mixed-status households during his first term in 2019, and analysts estimated that children would of the population to lose housing under such a rule.听

Food insecurity and hunger are also manifestations of childhood poverty. Today, more than are food insecure. The authors of Project 2025 propose gutting programs that help keep kids fed, including the Community Eligibility Program (CEP), (EBT), and (SNAP). CEP and Summer EBT, also called Sun Bucks, support school-age kids. The former allows low-income schools and school districts to provide free meals to all students. When the school year ends and children no longer receive free or reduced-price school meals, Sun Bucks .听

Meanwhile, SNAP provides EBT to low-income individuals. While the proposals in Project 2025 would not eliminate SNAP, they would implement stricter work requirements and provide fewer exceptions, threatening access for many families.

Both SNAP and Temporary Assistance to Needy Families, another program on Project 2025鈥檚 chopping block, have existing work requirements for recipients. These requirements were already in response to a demand by House Republicans as a condition of raising the debt ceiling. Work requirements are and sexist tropes, such as the so-called 鈥渨elfare queen鈥� and 鈥渃on artist鈥� that Ronald Reagan popularized in the 1980s as a way to target government assistance.听

Research has shown that work requirements , and for parents, the requirements can mean having less time to spend with their kids. 

The proposals in Project 2025 go beyond threatening the housing, financial, and food security of families and kids, and take aim at the government鈥檚 Head Start programs, which offer early childhood education, health, and social services to children from birth to age 5 and their families. Bezark says this would have ripple effects across every area of childhood development.听

鈥淚t would mean a lot of kids would not get the developmental support they need,鈥� says Bezark. 鈥淭hat means early intervention services and screening for developmental delays would not happen; kids would not get needed pediatric checkups and immunizations and dental checks, and all of the other wraparound services that Head Start provides.鈥�

would hit rural areas, disabled kids, and communities of color the hardest. Latine families are more likely to live in and need the services of Head Start. Head Start programs include Migrant and Seasonal Head Start and American Indian and Alaska Native Head Start, which serve agricultural and tribal communities, respectively. Children in foster care and those experiencing homelessness are , while disabled kids must fill of enrollment slots. Currently, nationwide participate in Head Start programs.

Rather than gut Head Start programs, promises to expand them. In fact, since entering the presidential race, Democratic nominee Kamala Harris has . She has also promised to increase the Child and Dependent Care Tax Credit (CDCTC), which Smeeding argues should be a central part of to support the nation鈥檚 kids and families. The CDCTC would help working families with children offset the cost of childcare. Alongside it, Smeeding suggests increasing the Earned Income Tax Credit and reinstating a Child Tax Credit to ensure 鈥渘o one falls through the cracks.鈥澨�

Supporting kids and families with solutions like these is popular with voters, too鈥擠emocrats and Republicans alike. When polled by the NPU, with school-age children supported reinstating the Child Tax Credit, including 84% of registered Democrats, 81% of Independents, and 75% of Republicans. Another poll from the found that believe improving the quality of childcare and early learning programs, and making them more affordable for families is a good investment of taxpayer money.听

Bezark agrees: 鈥淟aying that foundation is crucial to long-term child outcomes and societal outcomes.鈥�

Every day for the past 22 years, I鈥檝e left my house and traveled the same route to work. It takes exactly six minutes from the time I leave until the moment I open the door of my SUV to walk inside my school. Every day I walk to the passenger side to get my purse, school bag, and thermos of iced tea to drink at work, and then look at the large cutout of an eagle over the gym on my way into school. 

I attended Live Oak schools from elementary through high school, and the eagle has always been our mascot. After I graduated college, I went back to work at the school I attended as a child, once more an eagle. I have been an eagle for 35 of the 45 years that I have been alive, in more ways than one.

A few years ago, I took an online test that compares personalities to animals, and I had to laugh when my results came back as an eagle. Eagle personalities were described as being goal-driven, bold, action-oriented, and not afraid of a challenge. Eagle personalities, much like the actual bird of prey, are daring, persistent, savage yet nurturing, resilient.

Upon reflection, I wouldn鈥檛 say that I am naturally a courageous person, but I will go toe to toe with someone, regardless of who they are or how dangerous, if they try to harm me or someone I love. Like an eagle, I can be ferocious when needed.

After July 2022, when both myself and my became targets in Louisiana, I decided to show just how ferocious I could be. I never thought that attending a public library board meeting to speak against censorship would make me a target, but I wasn鈥檛 going to take it lying down. I set forth to create a game plan to help my parish that included getting to know the players, gathering allies, and creating alliances, and the determination that while we might lose some skirmishes along the way, we would win the big game no matter what. I am playing chess to their checkers.

The pro-censors are loud and obnoxious, and they鈥檙e only growing bolder. They鈥檒l continue their rampage unless rational people speak out against them. This movement could have detrimental effects on our schools and libraries for decades to come if we don鈥檛 consistently confront them. 

People who believe in inclusivity, the freedom to read, and the public good need to be even louder and more active than the book banners. They post about saving children but provide no evidence that children are in danger. It鈥檚 not about kids for them. We all want to protect children. That has never been the difference between us and them. Their agenda is all about silencing voices, politics, and money. It鈥檚 very important in the quest for intellectual freedom that we get to know our foes.

I highly recommend that everyone take the following steps to stay informed within your community:

Attend school board, library board, and local governance meetings.

Take notes on which officials use words like 鈥渨oke鈥� and 鈥渋ndoctrination.鈥� If they use words like 鈥済ender ideology鈥� and 鈥渟exually explicit material,鈥� chances are they are pro-censorship. Hate and oppression is a running theme, and you will find that they all post the same ridiculous memes filled with lies and conspiracy theories.

Follow the social media accounts of elected officials and take screenshots to document any extremist views.

Share the knowledge with others in your community.

Use a website like to track legislation and your elected officials.

Stay in the know.

Use your state government鈥檚 website to look up politicians and their donors.

Follow the money and you will find the motives.

Vote in every local election.

Keeping tabs on the pro-censors in other areas allows you to prepare for their hateful antics. From following the push to censor materials in St. Tammany Parish, I took note of some issues they had with their library signs. The St. Tammany Library Alliance, a group of citizens devoted to protecting the library, posted signs around town that said 鈥淭rust Our Librarians.鈥� A group of local far-right ideologues then purchased nearly identical signs that said 鈥淣o One Trusts Our Librarians.鈥� I made a mental note to be sure that our future signs were harder to mock.

I also found out about an email that a woman named Connie sent the director of the St. Tammany Parish Public Library that said, among other things, 鈥淢y ultimate goal is to make sure that you are not there,鈥� and 鈥淲e will see who ultimately prevails but remember I have God on my side, God always wins, and if you underestimate me you do so at your own peril.鈥� I checked in with our director to make sure she was OK, and she told me a man called the library to tell her she was a cunt. The types of people who call and email librarians with threats and inappropriate comments are vile. Be sure you counteract the hate by emailing positivity to your library staff to help counter the negativity they hear too often.

After the attacks on me, I was helped by continued messages of support from across my state and the country. People I had never met were sending me postcards, letters, and gifts to my school, our local library, and the local bookstore. Hundreds of supportive emails were sent my way, and it made me feel less alone. I looked for ways to pay those messages forward and started combing through social media posts in communities where I knew librarians and educators were also being attacked. 

I would see the same disgusting comments over and over, but occasionally I would see someone defend the librarian or educator. I would then private-message those people and share how supportive emails had helped me and ask them to consider sending one to their local librarian. Who knows if the librarian would see the social media post, but a personal email can make a real positive impact. It鈥檚 one small way I have tried to help others.

I then discovered that the school librarian Christopher Harris has made the process a little easier with his website . This amazing website allows you to sign up so that you can mail messages of support to librarians across the country. You can also send them names of librarians under attack so that they will receive letters, and you can even donate to this website to help support their work. A letter may seem like such a small thing, but it can mean the world to somebody who is being bombarded with hate.

A bigger step to support your library, and stand up for intellectual freedom, is to create a solid community alliance for your school and public libraries. I have found that the vast majority of people are against censorship, but sometimes they can easily fall for lies posted on social media. A solid alliance can dispel lies and promote the truth. Alliances also act as support for the librarians and a common place where like-minded individuals can gather to plan and show solidarity. Many people want to help, but they don鈥檛 know how.

Alliances can keep residents informed about public meetings, agenda items, and politicians, as well as promote positivity. The citizen alliances joined forces during the 2023 Louisiana legislative session, and we were able to send thousands of emails and letters to legislators about the four anti-library bills.

With an alliance in place, you can play offense rather than defense. When I was first targeted, I was blessed to have personal support from ; our community was fortunate to have their help in creating a citizen alliance for our parish鈥檚 entire public library system. EveryLibrary was key in helping our residents set up a game plan for success, and with their help we steadily held off the censors. Consider contacting EveryLibrary for assistance getting started on an alliance.

Alliances offer support to our librarians. Whether it鈥檚 an email, the sharing of a post, or attending a public meeting, we want them to know that there鈥檚 an entire army behind them in the community. 

If you are alone and don鈥檛 know where to start, create an alliance Facebook page and invite your friends and family who support libraries. Ask them to invite their library-supporting friends. At each public meeting, pass out flyers with the name of your Facebook page and a little bit about your alliance. It鈥檚 amazing how quickly it will grow. 

I am proud to have founded a grassroots alliance of residents from across our parish that has helped our public library system. We started out as a very small group but found dozens of people willing to help over time. You can put as much or as little as you want into an alliance, but make no mistake: Your community needs one.

While larger groups like the American Library Association, PEN America, and EveryLibrary can help with the big picture, campaigns, and resources, the real work is at the local level with grassroots efforts. It takes members of the community to stand up, speak out, and stick together as a cohesive unit. You are better together in numbers. 

Consider forming a statewide alliance, or team up with your state鈥檚 library or school library association. Lynette Mejia and Melanie Brevis had already formed a solid community alliance in neighboring Lafayette. They wanted to unify the many parish alliances under one banner, and we formed . All it takes is one person, or a small group, to get the ball rolling.

When, inevitably, you have people in your community who try to say that there are sexually explicit materials in your school or public library, first and foremost it鈥檚 important to remind them about collection development and reconsideration policies. After that, prove their lies wrong. 

The next time you hear someone say there are sexually explicit materials in children鈥檚 sections of your library (which is not true), here are some suggestions:

Ask this person to give you a title of an actual book.

Look on your library鈥檚 catalog to see if the book even exists and/or if it is even in the children鈥檚 section. You can usually see for yourself that their claim is false. Then YOU don鈥檛 have to perpetuate the rumor and can stop it in its tracks.

Check out the book and read it for yourself.

Remember that every book might not be your cup of tea, but that doesn鈥檛 mean the book is sexually explicit. If you object to a title, fill out a formal request for reconsideration if you feel that is necessary. Keep in mind that a book in the adult section must fail to be considered obscene and sexually explicit. Books are taken as a whole and based on literary merit鈥攏ot just one page out of context.

Ask yourself if they have a hidden motive.

Once you can prove to them that their claims are false and they continue to spread the lie, ask yourself why. You鈥檇 be amazed at how many people simply want to spread lies, even if they know they are lies. That鈥檚 called chasing clout. They want to feel important and/or were fed disinformation that they did not take the time to verify.

See if they or a family member is running for office.

Are they just jumping on the bandwagon of using the library as a punching bag to stir up drama so that they can say they will swoop in and save the day from that fake issue? This is called pandering for votes.

Ask your friendly neighborhood librarian or email the alliance, and we will help prove it for you!

Back in July 2022, I went to a public library board meeting thinking I would do my part to give one speech, sit down, and life would go on. Instead, I became a target. I could have chosen to ignore the online lies and hate being told about me, but why should I have stayed silent when I had done nothing wrong? In fact, they probably would have forgotten about me in a few weeks or months. Would I still be looking over my shoulder today had I chosen to do nothing?

Probably not. I chose to take a stand, and that decision changed the trajectory of my life. I chose to fight back. It was a hard decision that I did not take lightly. It has taken an emotional, physical, and mental toll on me and my family. I have zero regrets. This has become a purpose in my life鈥攖o stick up for librarians and libraries, speak out for historically marginalized students and authors, fight back against online bullying, and help others find their voices to do the same. However, I want others to understand that it is OK to walk away. There is no shame in taking care of yourself and your family first.

Regardless of my lawsuit, I will continue to speak out against censorship. Even if it takes years, we will win in the long run. I am an eagle through and through. An eagle will protect its territory by flying around it or by perching conspicuously near the top of a nearby tree. I will attend every local meeting with a watchful eye. I will continue to speak out. Like an eagle protecting her nest, I will help protect my community and myself from those who threaten us. I will circle above, going high instead of low, until the threat leaves the area.

This excerpt, adapted from by Amanda Jones (Bloomsbury Publishing, 2024), appears by permission of the publisher.

In a quip that launched a million memes, Minnesota Governor鈥搕urned鈥揤P candidate Tim Walz referred to his right-wing political opposition as 鈥渨eird people鈥� in a July 23, 2024, .

Since then, the barb has stuck, with leading Democratic party figures, from Senate Majority Leader to presidential nominee , branding their Republican opposition with the moniker.

Of course, in a classic deployment of the 鈥淚 know you are, but what am I?鈥� retort, the Republicans have tried to flip the script.

鈥淵ou know what鈥檚 really weird?鈥� . 鈥淪oft on crime politicians like Kamala allowing illegal aliens out of prison so they can violently assault Americans.鈥� And in an interview with conservative radio host Clay Travis, , 鈥淭hey鈥檙e the weird ones. Nobody鈥檚 ever called me weird. I鈥檓 a lot of things, but weird I鈥檓 not.鈥�

While I get why both sides are hurling weird bombs at each other, I鈥檓 nevertheless not on board with all the 鈥渨eird shaming.鈥� It isn鈥檛 just hypocritical for each party to claim to speak on behalf of the forgotten and marginalized while mockingly calling the other side 鈥渨eird.鈥� It鈥檚 also deeply regressive.

The weird, I would argue, deserve respect. As someone who has spent the past three decades researching, writing about, and teaching topics including vampires, ghosts, monsters, cult films, and what gets categorized as 鈥渨eird fiction,鈥� .

鈥淲yrd鈥� History

When politicians use the term weird, they鈥檙e trying to depict their opponents as odd or strange. However, the origins of the term are much more expansive and profound.

The Old English wyrd, from which the contemporary usage is derived, in fact was a noun corresponding to fate or destiny. 鈥溾�� signified the forces directing the course of human affairs鈥攁n understanding reflected, for example, by Shakespeare鈥檚 three prophetic 鈥渨eird sisters鈥� in . An individual鈥檚 鈥渨eird鈥� was their fate, while use of the term weird as an adjective connoted the supernatural power to manipulate human destiny.

Despite the progressive generalization of the term to refer to all things strange, fantastic, and unusual, resonances of the weird鈥檚 鈥渨yrd鈥� origins are retained by what has come to be called 鈥�,鈥� a subgenre of speculative fiction.

The weird tale, explained early 20th-century writer in his 1927 treatise 鈥�,鈥� is one that challenges our taken-for-granted understandings of how the world works. It does this through鈥攖o use Lovecraft鈥檚 characteristic purple prose鈥攁 鈥渕align and particular suspension or defeat of those fixed laws of Nature which are our only safeguards against the assaults of chaos and the daemons of unplumbed space.鈥�

The weird tale pushes back against human pretensions of grandeur, hinting at just how much we don鈥檛 know about the universe and just how precarious our situation truly is.

Meanwhile, the freaks, geeks, outsiders, misfits, and mavericks are weirdos who push back in a different way. They are the nonconformists whom, as Ralph Waldo Emerson pointed out in his 1841 essay 鈥�,鈥� 鈥渢he world whips 鈥� with its displeasure.鈥�

Where would we be, I wonder, without the artists and scientists and thinkers developing 鈥渨eird鈥� ideas and unorthodox ways to see and appreciate the world?

In this sense, nearly all progress is part of weird history, propelled by visionaries frequently misunderstood in their own time.

From Denigration to Celebration

Of course, not all weirdos change the world through grand gestures and history-altering interventions; sometimes weirdos just do their own thing.

That, too, has been a large part of the story of the past century, as Western culture has increasingly鈥攊f reluctantly鈥攎ade room for once-unorthodox or even taboo forms of self-expression, to.

Proliferating subcultures, gender identities, and forms of self-expression鈥攁lthough no doubt propelled by capitalist market forces鈥攏evertheless demonstrate the premium placed today on individualism.

In fact, pop culture has been keen to invite historical weirdos back into the fold鈥攕o much so that vampires, ogres, and fairy-tale villains from 鈥淪leeping Beauty鈥� now enlist audiences鈥� sympathies by telling their side of the story.

The true villains are now often seen as those who demonize difference and insist on straight-jacketing individual freedom of expression. Many contemporary monsters aren鈥檛 bad, 鈥攁nd their monstrous behavior results from being bullied, excluded, insulted and rejected for being 鈥渨eird.鈥�

Reclaiming Weird

However sincerely felt, the Democrats鈥� deployment of the weird characterization is, of course, strategic.

Walz鈥檚 barb clearly managed to get under the skin of a crowd for whom the idea of not being 鈥渘ormal鈥� is apparently distressing鈥攁nd it is for this reason, I believe, that the Democrats have repeatedly tried to make the idea stick.

Historian of political rhetoric , 鈥淭he opposite of normalizing authoritarianism is to make it weird, to call it out and to sort of mock it.鈥� Said another way, to refer to your opposition and their policies as 鈥渨eird鈥� is to denigrate it as abnormal.

Political expediency, however, comes with consequences鈥攁nd here, much to my dismay, I find myself agreeing with Vivek Ramaswamy鈥攖he conservative entrepreneur who unsuccessfully ran for the Republican presidential nomination.

Ramaswamy that the weird insults are 鈥渁 tad ironic coming from the party that preaches 鈥榙iversity & inclusion.鈥欌�� Ironic puts it mildly.

This whole 鈥渢hey鈥檙e weird鈥� argument from the Democrats is dumb & juvenile. This is a presidential election, not a high school prom queen contest. It鈥檚 also a tad ironic coming from the party that preaches 鈥渄iversity & inclusion.鈥� Win on policy if you can, but cut the crap please.

— Vivek Ramaswamy (@VivekGRamaswamy)

While there may well be utility in deploying the term 鈥渨eird鈥� to frustrate political opponents, I鈥檇 prefer to reclaim the weird as something to appreciate, respect, and celebrate.

The weird is that which introduces cracks into the edifice of the status quo, liberating possibilities for different futures and forms of expression. There are many different, more specific adjectives politicians and others can use to characterize their rivals.

Let鈥檚 keep America weird.

This article is republished from under a Creative Commons license. Read the .

It was a hot summer day in 2007 when I wrapped filming for a documentary about women and children鈥檚 organizing and leadership in a refugee camp in Ghana. As I was saying my goodbyes, a woman approached me and said, 鈥淵ou know, Sis, the same AK-47s in child soldiers鈥� hands in Liberia鈥檚 civil war are in your children鈥檚 hands [in the United States]. You need to do something about that.鈥�

The comment stuck with me, and ultimately shaped the subsequent decades of my life, when I volunteered to teach sociology courses inside prisons in Washington state, then spent 12 years filming inside those same prisons鈥攁nd in the neighborhoods, homes, and communities from which those incarcerated people came. I became deeply concerned with how the culture of punishment impacts the lives of children.

Our 2020 documentary, , is a love letter to those children. 

Our film invites viewers to take an in-depth look at incarceration in order to better understand the processes that led a person to prison, their resilience, and prisoners鈥� ultimate role as models for all of us. Set in Tacoma, Washington, the film bears witness to an 鈥渆verytown鈥� urban neighborhood鈥檚 fight to stay alive in the face of racial profiling by police, gangs, drugs, and gun violence.

The film brings to life statistics of racial and gender disparity in , education, employment, and , and shows viewers the through stories from community members impacted by it. Viewers get a window into the ways that incarcerated people are organizing to bring education, healing, and compassion to one another and those who have been harmed鈥攂oth in and outside prison walls. 

In 1993, Washington state voters were ostensibly designed to discourage 鈥渞epeat offenders鈥� by implementing increasingly severe sentences for each conviction, including for specific offenses. Washington is also one of (including for life sentences) and is among the few states that . It was also in poor and Black communities. 

This combination of policies, influenced by the frenzy of the war on drugs and perceptions of escalating crime and gang activity in the fear-mongering political climate of the late 1980s and early 1990s, led Tacoma voters to sacrifice their most vulnerable children, discarded as .鈥� This culture of punishment, combined with the city鈥檚 lack of social services, disinvestments in early education, and increasing inequality in housing and employment, stained the Tacoma landscape and destined these children to live their lives out behind bars.

Yet even when thrown into prison for punitive removal from society, these children, now adults, could not be silenced. Together they built a prisoners鈥� community of healing, anchored in restorative and transformative justice that extended beyond prison walls. 

The film chronicles the impact of two prisoner-led groups that have been critical to growing efforts to dismantle the culture of oppression that permeates Tacoma and countless other cities nationwide.

The Black Prisoners鈥� Caucus (BPC), established in Washington state prisons in 1972, and BPC TEACH (Taking Education and Creating History) in 2013, offer blueprints for repair within the communities they once harmed. Two members of TEACH describe the organization as 鈥渁 communal learning environment that鈥檚 not physical but mental, spiritual, and emotional.鈥� The experiences of BPC and BPC TEACH members illuminate the essential roles of activism, compassion, love, and self-forgiveness in personal and community transformation.

The culture of punishment that groups like BPC are working to dismantle is unfortunately a pervasive element of our shared reality in America today. Especially in these times of and fear of difference, who better to show us the triumph of the human spirit than those caught behind bars for life?

The film introduces us to Kimonti Carter, who grew up in Tacoma. He was convicted in 1998 at age 18 of aggravated murder connected to a drive-by shooting. He was sentenced to 777 years, without the possibility of parole. Carter became not only our protagonist but the spine of our film. His story embodies the triumph of the human spirit鈥攅ven when faced with social forces that attempt to define the margins as a place of deprivation, never of possibility.

In 2021, the that mandatory minimum sentences are unconstitutional for 18-, 19-, and 20-year-olds, pointing to 鈥渁 rethinking of the culpability and punishment for young people, as science has revealed more about their developing brains,鈥� according to . This ruling opened the door for Carter鈥檚 July 2022 resentencing, when a judge determined that Carter, having served 25 years in prison, must be released. 

He now serves as a community outreach specialist with the Washington State Office of Public Defense and continues to work with BPC Community Group and other formerly incarcerated peers and youth in schools, education, health care, prisons, and juvenile facilities. Carter鈥檚 goals are reflected in the film, as we see him鈥攖hen and now鈥攄eeply committed to policy change, youth activism, and support for prisoner-initiated programs.

Carter鈥檚 leadership was essential to the 2013 creation of BPC鈥檚 TEACH program, where incarcerated people teach each other ways that they can create history. TEACH brings together incarcerated people across race, ethnicity, and gang lines, and provides them tools to question oppression, and the violent behavior that oppression perpetuates among and between people. 

While filming, I was able to bear witness to a TEACH classroom where a prisoner wearing swastika tattoos spoke with a Black man and a man from Central America about the need for respect; the men questioned their own ideologies and practices, and how they each face similar oppression, despite their differences. We travel this journey with them through candid conversations of scenes fired in a kiln of cinema verit茅, and cinematically rendered through Krump dancing and masquerade as we bear witness to the nuances of reflective voice, trauma, contemplative silence, fear, and unbinding love. 

Our humanity is nudged鈥攁nd at times ambushed鈥攚hile watching the film, because the men and women who seem to have an answer to our societal problems have been convicted of violent crimes. The film does not question their innocence or guilt, but rather our own preconceptions about humanity and the tensions between compassion, punishment, crime, and justice. Distinct Black women鈥檚 voices provide the tenderness, rhythm, and urgency of this compelling story.

Since I Been Down is dedicated to broadening conversations across significant differences to inspire all of us to become visionary, liberatory thinkers. Our film bears witness to the triumph of the human spirit, allowing us to take a long look at our humanity. As Carter reminds us, 鈥淲e can never be someone different鈥攂ut we can be a better version of who we are.鈥�

To request a screening of Since I Been Down, reach out to the filmmaker at info@sinceibeendown.com.

Those chances diminished in early June, when a allowing border authorities to stop processing cases of asylum seekers once a certain threshold is met. For many migrants like Mari帽o, the Biden administration鈥檚 latest asylum restrictions are as unfamiliar as the Mexican border cities where they are forced to engage in an unpredictable waiting game.  

In Nogales, Sonora, a Mexican town that borders Arizona, migrants find support from nonprofits and various other advocates. While they wait for appointments in the U.S., migrants can access temporary shelter, meals, legal workshops, and opportunities to earn some money for living expenses.

鈥淭his is a big help,鈥� says Mari帽o, holding up the tote bag she decorated. 鈥淲ith my last earnings I was able to buy groceries for the week.鈥�

The assistance has been invaluable for Mari帽o and her children, Aaron and his 8-year-old sister, Lluviana. They often stop in for a family meal at the dining hall of the , a Jesuit immigrant rights advocacy group located just a few yards from a U.S. port of entry. In early 2020, the organization opened its migrant outreach center, which also includes classrooms and shelter space. 

This story is part of . Learn more about Progress 2025 and find more coverage here.

At least twice a week, Mari帽o attends workshops run by Kino volunteers in a small building across the street, where the group鈥檚 volunteers for years served meals to migrants expelled from the U.S. for crossing the border unlawfully. 

Mari帽o, 24, arrived in Nogales on June 6. Weeks later, she was still perturbed by what she says was a harrowing two-month journey north from Ecuador during which she and her children survived two kidnappings.

Lucrecia Almada Leyva, a Kino volunteer, says stories like Mari帽o鈥檚 are not unusual among the migrants at workshops where adults can sew, embroider, or bake goods to sell while their children play. 鈥淧eople share their experiences with one another,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t helps them to show solidarity and know that they鈥檙e not alone.鈥�

The gatherings serve not only to help migrants forge connections with each other, but also aid them financially, explains Angela Meixell, another volunteer. Supplies are donated and migrants keep the proceeds from finished products.

The workshops keep migrants busy, which Almada Leyva says can help them endure long waits for an appointment to apply for asylum. 鈥淪he鈥檚 been here nine months,鈥� says the volunteer, pointing to a woman focused on her sewing. 鈥淎nother lady who comes in has waited seven months.鈥�

All around are migrants sewing at tables, talking among themselves, or playing with their children. Some landed in Nogales after being displaced by drug-trafficking violence in certain Mexican states. Many are too afraid to share their reasons for migrating.

Workshop volunteers say they find it rewarding to lend a helping hand to asylum seekers who are far from their homeland and in need. 鈥淚 feel a great empathy for them because they leave their families behind,鈥� Almada Leyva says of the migrants she has met. 鈥淭hey leave many things behind and it is out of necessity.鈥�

When they arrive in Nogales, most migrants are unaware that in June the U.S. halted asylum processing at the border when arrests for illegal entries reach an average of 2,500 a day in a seven-day period. The rule is the latest in a series of restrictive policies that the Biden and Trump administrations have implemented in recent years to curb an unprecedented number of asylum seekers. In an election year, the border influx has become a political liability for Democrats. Meanwhile, Republicans have taken even harsher aim at immigrants, as outlined in the now-infamous plan by the Heritage Foundation.

Chelsea Sachau, an attorney with the in Arizona, explains that the new rule halts asylum until average daily arrests for illegal entries drop below 1,500 for seven consecutive days and stays at such levels for two weeks.

But, she says, asylum seekers generally don鈥檛 know that entering the U.S. between ports of entry could have long-lasting legal consequences鈥攕uch as being barred from the U.S. for a number of years鈥攑otentially hurting their immigration cases. When the rule is in effect, more people are 鈥渉ighly likely going to be disqualified outright for asylum just because of how they access territory and sought help,鈥� Sachau says. 

Sachau is managing attorney for the program鈥檚 , which provides pro bono legal services to migrants in Nogales. She and her colleagues hold workshops at the Kino outreach center two or three times a week to inform migrants of the deterrence policy before they cross the border, but many migrants learn of it only after they鈥檝e already been deported. They also hear from attorneys that the government wants migrants to apply for asylum through a special phone app, after which they must wait to be assigned an appointment to cross the border through an official entry point. 

鈥淢ost people are shocked by what the rules are or what the process is until it鈥檚 too late, when they鈥檙e already kind of ensnared in these really harmful processes that are very hard to navigate,鈥� Sachau says.

Attorney Francisco Loureiro, director of the San Juan Bosco migrant shelter in Nogales, says there鈥檚 been a noticeable increase in migrants removed from the U.S. since the asylum rules were tightened. Besides a bed to rest, migrants also get three meals a day at the shelter and legal counseling about Mexican laws. While many of those staying there now are Mexican citizens, migrants from various other countries continue to arrive, he says.

鈥淥n a daily basis we shelter men, women, and children accompanied by their parents, regardless of their nationality and legal status in Mexico,鈥� Loureiro says.

Volunteers also are on hand at the migrant shelter to provide medical assistance and even psychological care to those who need it. 鈥淚t鈥檚 very difficult to see a huge number of children who have no place to stay, no place to eat, no food,鈥� Loureiro says. 鈥淭hey are sick children, dehydrated children, children with gastrointestinal problems. They need our continuing support.鈥�

The support Mari帽o has received in Nogales has helped her adapt to life in a new city. She left Venezuela in 2018 for Ecuador and then left Ecuador for the U.S. border in late March of 2024 to escape what she described as economic turmoil and rising crime. She currently rents a room in a house with five migrant families.

She has become familiar with the intricacies of asylum鈥攊ncluding the fact that applicants must prove they have a fear of persecution in their homeland鈥攂y attending legal workshops. She already knew about the phone app, which schedules appointments randomly, because her partner used it in the fall and he is now in Chicago. Mari帽o expected they鈥檇 be together by now, but her journey was fraught with setbacks, including two traumatic kidnapping experiences. 

When she first entered southern Mexico from neighboring Guatemala, her family and other arriving migrants from Central and South America were taken to a chicken coop and held there until they paid a nominal fee for their freedom.

After their release, Mari帽o and her children walked, accepted rides from good Samaritans, and rode buses to Mexico City, where she applied for an asylum appointment on her phone app daily. She secured an appointment after several days while in the border city of Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas, she says. However, when she arrived there with her children and was about to take a cab, several men pushed them into a car and drove them to an abandoned house crowded with other kidnapped migrants.

It was a distressing time, recalls the young mother, who feared for the safety of her family since she had no money to pay ransom. She pleaded with her captors for their release and on the fifth day, Marino and her children were freed alongside another family without explanation. They headed to Nogales but had already lost the initial asylum appointment while in captivity.

鈥淚 believe this is a process of change that I have to live with,鈥� Marino says. 鈥淚t is a process that God chose for me and I just have to learn from it.鈥�

So the young mother waits patiently. She checks her phone app daily in hopes of snagging one more asylum appointment. And when another day goes by without one, she finds comfort in the support around her. 

Yet, when we focus our attention on the data that describes Black maternal mortality, we run the risk of obscuring what many birth workers are doing every day to reduce these disparities and deliver tailored care.

Broadly speaking, birth workers are using data collection tools that fail to meet privacy standards, struggle to perform vital functions, and put patients and workers at risk of colliding with carceral systems. But that snapshot does not tell the full story. 鈥�,鈥� a report I authored, offers a birth-worker-led analysis of how data collection impacts Black patients.

I argue that doulas, midwives, and physicians who center Black patients鈥� experiences in their approach to care are uniquely attentive to these harms, and use their knowledge about how data collection is implicated in to protect themselves and their patients. In doing so, birth workers鈥� vigilant practice of adapting their data collection strategies is offering an effective model for protecting pregnant patients鈥� reproductive rights. 

Across the board, pregnancy and childbirth involve . Providers gather patient data through conversations and medical instruments during clinical encounters and enter it into electronic health records. Doulas and midwives collect data about patients鈥� holistic needs through methods that range from handwritten notes to digital records. Insurance programs, most notably Medicaid, gather demographic and population health information. At home, patients can collect their own data using .

For Black pregnant patients, data collection carries gendered and racialized consequences. Data gathered during clinical encounters and on personal devices can be made available to government agencies and law enforcement in ways that criminalize and discipline Black birthing people鈥攍eading to imprisonment, child separation, and other forms of surveillance.

In the wake of the Supreme Court鈥檚 Dobbs decision, these risks are even greater, as patients and providers fear prosecution for receiving or delivering abortion care. In this environment, efforts to identify and prevent entanglements with carceral systems are even more vital.

Black-centered birth workers provide care designed to address the specific needs of Black birthing people. Rooted in Black American traditions connected to the African diaspora, these experts remain vigilant to obstetric racism and engage in protective strategies. They evade carceral data collection systems by teaching their clients how to navigate clinical encounters, compromise with faulty data collection systems and engineer work-arounds to ensure they can still provide holistic care, and refuse to collect information that can harm themselves or their patients.

Beyond the tech itself, policy changes are shaping how birth workers approach data infrastructures. In response to the Black maternal health crisis, many advocates have called for Medicaid to register doulas as covered providers. expressed trepidation about these efforts, explaining that while they welcome the ability to provide more affordable and accessible services to their clients, the process to become an enrolled provider through Medicaid puts a strain on their practice. 

Doulas typically use low-tech methods to gather data about their patients, opting to use handwritten notes or other forms of basic data collection. In contrast, Medicaid requires providers to meticulously document their care and interface with an online portal that doulas called 鈥渁 complete utter nightmare.鈥� This clash between traditionally low-tech doula care and the high-tech demands of Medicaid speaks to the larger disconnect between data-intensive approaches to care and the need to protect and better care for Black pregnant patients.

As they manage and deliver care to Black patients, birth workers are contending with the challenges and dangers posed by these different forms of data collection. 鈥淭his is the future that our current data-driven understanding of the Black maternal health crisis gives to Black birthing people鈥攁 defined by death, dying, violence, incarceration, and mistreatment,鈥� I write in the report. 鈥淭his is also the future that birth workers and other advocates for Black birthing people are tirelessly working to prevent.鈥�

Rather than a simple case demonstrating the value of Black physicians treating Black patients, when Black-centered birth workers care for both Black patients鈥� bodies and their data, all pregnant patients benefit. If we hope to improve care for the most vulnerable, preserving the agency these birth workers demonstrate is vital. Rather than turning toward or data collection, we should follow Black-centered birth workers鈥� lead as they identify and fight against pressing risks to Black pregnant patients鈥� right to joyful pregnancy, data privacy, and freedom of choice.听