[005] "Above All Else, They Are Very, Very Brave"
Oct. v4: On so many Black women lifting up community, and "the stir that is less than we ask for"
Hello, Tired Ones,
Another week, another sign of life, another reason that showing up’s still worth it.
In my work as a writer and designer for culture change, I come across important stories about progress that’s actually working for people.
These are stories that refuse the false choice: sweet indulgence, or the bitter pill.
They help us to remember: before there was bureaucratic care, or self-care, there was simply care.
So come on in, sit down. For the next few minutes at least, there’s no rush. It’s Sunday, after all.
October's care work: Political bravery in basketball
“in the servitude of strangers, he has forgotten, again, to feel for me…”
Sourcing notes: via Lucas Quintana on Unsplash.
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It’s a week for courage, and holding each other near.
Drop us all a comment, if you’d like. You can follow the prompt on the other side of the happy baby.
A song, for pairing
"Winter Astral" by Beverly Glenn-Copeland, from the album Keyboard Fantasies (1986).
A singer-songwriter from Philadelphia worked in (Canadian) obscurity for decades, until his only release was discovered via cassette by an influential Japanese collector. At 76, a world tour was set to showcase his operatic, proto-electronic ballads for the the first meaningful time—but was put on hold by the pandemic. Listen to more.
“I’m gonna uppercut you, but at the same time, I have a gift for you. Covid goes: Can you deal with what you have to learn and be able to accept this gift? Can you handle both of these?”
Sourcing notes: via The Washington Post, Don’t despair: Beverly Glenn-Copeland actually has hope to offer us in 2020. Sep 25, 2020.
A healthy idea, to chew on
How Black Women Athletes Paved the Way for the NBA Strike, an interview of history professor Amira Rose Davis, by Alyssa Jeong Perry for NPR's Code Switch. Sep. 4, 2020.
On the long history of collective organizing among Black women in sports, and the even longer history of them being written out of it:
The WNBA, though, has moved as a league on the social justice front for years. [...] It's not as just one person, but as a team, as a league. And that has really been the blueprint for some of the collective action that we're seeing now [in professional sports]. I think it's important not to let that get lost in the conversation. [...]
There's been too many instances of Black women being erased from the narrative even about police brutality. There's been too many instances of Black women being overlooked as leaders, as political leaders, as activists, as organizers, as athletes. It's too often that Black women are the only ones standing up for themselves. [...]
[T]hey are too often in real time being erased from the narrative. And I think that seeing it in real time is just a reinforcement of the kind of understanding that Black women are experiencing this double bind, and being erased from simplistic narratives. I think these Black women athletes historically and today are demonstrating above all else that they are very, very brave.
Professor Davis specializes in African American studies at Penn State, and co-hosts of the podcast Burn It All Down, "about the history of activism by Black athletes."
A way forward, to re-orient
Demonstrating Above All Else That They Are Very, Very Brave—Recognition and compensation for the Black and Indigenous women who Are In Real Time Being Erased From The Narrative.
Visual artist Ebti Nabag spent time with 12 young people and their families, in their Toronto neighbourhoods, while taking portraits for her exhibit At Home, In The Game. They were taking part in a city-wide basketball organization called Lay-Up, which has recently launched a virtual program focusing on creativity and connection in addition to physical activity.
"This series aims to capture the infectious optimism and positive energy that radiates from young people during challenging times," writes Ebti Nabag in her Artist Statement. "These portraits provide viewers with an opportunity to examine the meaningful connections that remain and can be built using community programming in a time of social distancing."
Sourcing notes: via Ebti Nabag, At Home, In The Game, with Lay-Up Basketball.
Since June of this year, reporter Angelyn Francis has led excellent reporting on inequity and inequality for the Star, focusing on local news with the help of new federal funding. It was hard to find a conventional “program” that focuses on collective action that lifts each other up, in the way that the WNBA has demonstrated. But then, Angelyn Francis had done the work to find it. So, I'd like to offer just a few snapshots of the Black women she’s spoken to in Toronto, who are lifting each other up, and then some.
Artist, writer and curator Anique Jordan has fundraised to offer micro-grants for supporting Black youth since COVID-19 began—just one of five such stories from Toronto’s art world.
“Society sees us perfectly fine when it comes to expelling our children from school or incarcerating us or saying women can’t be in certain roles,” said Jordan [seated at centre]. “We’re very visible. But when it comes to moments where we can have power or shift the idea of what a nation can look like, then we become conveniently unavailable, erased, obscure.”
Sourcing notes: Photo via Fatin Chowdhury, supplied, with reporting via Angelyn Francis, Karon Liu, and Gilbert Ngabo. Anique Jordan at centre.
Damiesha Dennis founded Brown Girl Outdoor World in 2018 to create outdoor community for racialized women who fall outside of conventional age restrictions for youth programming. She's worked to continue what they do during COVID-19, from birding to treetop trekking. This month, she started a GoFundMe campaign—currently $1,775 away from their $10,000 goal—for a communal gear library to lower financial barriers for BIPOC people.
“Assigning the name to it [the outdoors] is kind of what created an elite feel around it,” said Dennis [at left in photo]. “[We are] kind of trying to take away the feel of it having to be elite [in order] to be appreciated and accepted.”
Sourcing notes: Photo supplied, reporting via Angelyn Francis.
Christopher McGarrell of Scarborough founded the ManDem Cycling Club, which quickly took off. (ManDem is Caribbean slang that translates to a "group of friends, homies, often gender neutral," as defined by The Star.) The weekend rides grew to include dozens of people of all ages, abilities and backgrounds. Among them were six women, including Katanya Polimis and Senait Isaac, who met there and went on to form a sister group called GyalDem (pictured).
“For their first ride, I [thought] wow, cyclists that look like me, cyclists that have various types of bikes, different levels of style," said Senait Isaac, who had joined several rides with ManDem. "This looks like something that you would be welcome to join.”
Sourcing notes: Photo via Amanda Lee Coffey, supplied, with reporting via Angelyn Francis.
I haven’t mentioned… a lot of other women like them. Like the mothers and parents who launched a project to help newcomers and other stressed parents navigate the educational system. Or the organizers from Not Another Black Life, who showed up at the Toronto 55 Division to demand the release of Moka Dawkins, a Black and Indigenous trans woman. Or the hundreds who organized and attended rallies to make specific demands on school boards to curb anti-Black racism.
Demonstrating above all else that they are very, very brave.
A poem, to cleanse the palate
He Dreams of Falling by Ruth Ellen Kocher of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, from her collection When the Moon Knows You're Wandering (2002).
It begins:
At the table in patio seating,
a young man starched into my evening…
On seeing a boy, being seen in the act, as he commits a quiet indignity against an old woman:
He may know that secretly
the hearts of children conspire to stop
when parents close their bedroom doors.
But in this construction,
the pace that takes him back and forth
in the servitude of strangers,
he has forgotten, again, to feel for me,
eating alone, a woman familiar
deep in the eyes,
with his same knowledge of movement
that bends us forward,
the instinct of our heels
ready to turn against that jerk a body makes
even in dead sleep,
the stir that is less than we ask for,
less than an old woman,
or a woman growing old.
Sourcing notes: via poets.org
Something sweet, for the road
And now, a very happy (very pacifist) baby.
Sourcing notes: via @ChicoDSolo (Twitter)
A question, until we connect again
Every week, I’ll get the comment thread started with a question. Every subsequent week, I’ll include some of your stuff at the end.
Let each other know in the comments: When was a time you made eye contact with someone in public, after you or they did something embarrassing, or perhaps slightly taboo?
First thought, best thought, and all that. What happened next?
That's all for this week.
Remember: Drink when you're thirsty, nap when you can.
Kind regards,
Chris Connolly
Manager, Personalized Care
(Acting Director, Standardized Care)
Humane Resources Division
The Dept. of Emotional Labour