Scratch beneath the surface: A deeper look at CA's proposition 35

By Sonya Mendoza

Okay Californians, we're in the countdown. Not only do we have to vote for President, state assembly, etc, but there are also all those propositions! This November 6th, there are eleven for us to vote on, and many of them have titles that make it seem like a no brainer to vote yes or no.

One of those, Proposition 35, the “Increased Penalties for Human Trafficking and Sex Slavery,” proposition, has a title that seems like an instant no brainer. Human trafficking is bad. Sex slavery is bad. There's nothing to argue about there! However, when we read between the lines and look a little closer at 35, we can see that this badly thought out propositon is not what it seems.

For starters, California lawmakers who have both written anti-trafficking laws AND prosecuted traffickers IN THIS STATE have come out fervently against this law. One of them, who wrote California's current anti-trafficking law AB-22, sums up prop. 35 like this:

“Instead of promoting the positive rights of human trafficking survivors, the CASE Act [prop. 35] focuses solely on prohibition, pouring more resources into the criminalization of trafficking, while simultaneously taking away protection and relief for victims.”

----Kathleen Kim, professor of law at Loyola Law School and co-author of AB-22, the Califronia Trafficking Victims Protection Act

Oh goody! Just what California needs! More money for for policing and prisons, right? Because we don't already spend much of the state's budget on arresting and incarcerating people. I know what you are thinking: “Well if we're using it to jail traffickers, then its ok, right?”

Yeah it would be okay, except for the fact that proposition 35 does little to distinguish people who do consensual sex work to make a living from people that exploit and control others for monetary gain. The broad and vague terms the law uses to define "human trafficking" could lead to unintended consequences, like being brought up on trafficking charges if you're a child of someone that does consensual sex work and benefits from their earnings. Or, perhaps you have a friend who is a sex worker and you drop them off at work, or hold money for them, this could be construed as trafficking. We already have so many laws that criminilize pimps and prostitutes in Caifornia, so why do we need one more? And one that further blurs the line between coersive and consensual sex?

Prop. 35 is trying to convince Californians that we don't already have stringent laws against trafficking written by people who are well educated in the field and have dealt with survivors and prosecuted traffickers. And if we do need more anti-trafficking laws, we need them to be well written, concise and clear for the voters, and most of all, survivor centered. Because even if a trafficker gets put in prison, that doesn't mean that the quality of life for a survivor is instantly better. It takes resources and community support to improve quality of life, and Prop. 35 does not do it.

Sonya is a freelance writer, dj, dog walker, community organizer, and horror movie watcher. You can get in touch with her at animalppl.wordpress.com.

A Dual Disenfranchisement: How Voter Suppression Denies Reproductive Justice to Women of Color

By Liz Chen

This article was originally published at The Center for American Progress

Endnotes and citations are available in the PDF version of this report.

A slew of recent voter identification laws are increasingly threatening the voting rights of people of color. This erosion of our most basic civil right comes alongside historic levels of attacks on reproductive health services. The two are not unrelated. Women of color stand at the crossroads of what is in essence a double disenfranchisement. When they are denied the opportunity to participate in civic life, they also lose the ability to voice their opinions and hold lawmakers accountable on the reproductive health issues that directly affect them.

In the 2011 general election, Mississippi voters rejected an extreme ballot initiative that would have granted personhood status to embryos and fetuses, which could have outlawed a number of common medical services for women, including popular forms of birth control, treatments for miscarriage and infertility, and abortion. In the same election, voters approved an initiative restricting the ability of Mississippi residents to vote by requiring unnecessary photo identification. As a result of this completely unwarranted voter identification initiative, nearly 75,000 women of color may be prevented from voting in Mississippi. Such a large number can have a significant impact on electoral outcomes: for instance, it takes only 89,285 signatures to place an initiative on the ballot in Mississippi, not to mention that the margin of defeat for the state’s personhood initiative was a mere 130,000 votes.

Mississippi’s voter identification law is just one example of the record number of voting restrictions that have been introduced and adopted throughout the country in advance of the 2012 election. But what Mississippi’s 2011 election also teaches us is that the fundamental right to vote is only the first of many rights at stake. Women of color, by losing the ability to express themselves on the issues that directly impact them, will lose their ability to protect a range of constitutional rights, including the right to decide whether, when, and with whom to have children.

Here is a brief rundown of the facts:

• Women of color compose 18 percent of the U.S. population
• Women of color have been voting at steadily increasing rates over the last 12 years
• In the last year, 34 new laws requiring photo identification to vote have been proposed; four will be in effect on Election Day 2012
• In the last year, 17 new laws requiring proof of citizenship have been proposed; two will be in effect on Election Day 2012
• On Election Day 2012, between 596,000 and 959,000 women of color may be disenfranchised by voter identification laws
• Beyond November 2012, between 1.05 million and 1.86 million women of color stand to be disenfranchised by voter identification laws
• Twenty-two states passed 61 new measures restricting women’s reproductive health in the first nine months of 2012

The House of Representatives voted 55 times on anti-woman measures in the 112th Congress
Voter suppression is not just a civil rights issue—it is a matter of reproductive justice. Reproductive justice stands at the intersection of traditional reproductive rights concerns and social justice issues and centers the reproductive health needs of the most marginalized populations, including women of color, low-income individuals, and individuals with disabilities, among others. It has been defined as “the complete physical, mental, spiritual, political, economic, and social wellbeing of women and girls, and will be achieved when women and girls have the economic, social and political power and resources to make healthy decisions about our bodies, sexuality and reproduction for ourselves, our families and our communities in all areas of our lives.”

This report will situate women of color in the United States today, their current electoral impact, and the methods being used to disenfranchise people of color throughout the country. Next, we determine how many women of color stand to be disenfranchised by these new methods. Lastly, we explore some of the histori-cal regulation of women of color’s reproduction along with present day attacks on reproductive health services to explain why it is crucial for women of color’s voices to be heard on these issues.

Despite these voter suppression efforts that attempt to silence the voices of women of color, it remains imperative that they vote on Election Day to ensure that their interests are represented.

Elizabeth Chen is a Policy Analyst for the Women’s Health and Rights Program at the Center for American Progress and a Law Students for Reproductive Justice law fellow.

I am Annika, I am All

By Annika Leonard

I am an educator in a couple of Milwaukee Public Schools and I engage youth between the ages of 14 to 21. As part of a homework assignment, I asked my class to tell me how they see themselves. To model the level of thought I wanted to see in their poems I completed my own. The purpose of the poem is to give you a snapshot into how I see myself. I could have told you I see myself in every woman of the African Diaspora, but I decided to honor the names, the victories, the struggles and the relationship I have to the women listed below.


I AM

History, the bitter memory of this country’s injustice:

I am the we’ll rape you and say you wanted it, beat you and say you deserved it, and force pregnancy upon you then take your family, they belong on the auction block, too!

Athletic:

I am Venus and Serena, two of America’s greatest tennis players of the past decade because I played a little tennis in high school.

Proud:

I am Gabby Douglas; I became the first African-American woman ever to take gold in the all-around individual title in gymnastics.

Political:

I am the first lady Michelle Obama and your stereotypes don’t stick.

I am Angela Davis, once one of the FBI’s most wanted and one of the nation’s experts on the prison industrial complex.

I am Assata Shakur, member of the Black Panther Party and the Black Liberation Army because I believe in all power to the people.

I am Audre Lorde because when I speak I am afraid my words will not be heard or welcomed. But when I am silent, I am still afraid. So I will speak knowing I was never meant to survive.

I am Ida B. Wells, characterized as a militant and uncompromising leader for her efforts to abolish lynching and establish racial equality.

I am Anita Hill, still standing up and speaking out.

I am Mapping the Margins with Kimberly Crenshaw, author of the intersectionality theory.

Organizing:

I am Rosa Parks, quit saying I was tired, I’m an activist and it was a strategy.

A Black woman experiencing violence in America:

I am Crystal Mangum, when I accused those three Lacrosse players of raping me my case was fueled by stereotypes of race and class.

I am Rekia Boyd, the unarmed Black woman who was shot in the head by an off-duty Chicago detective on Wednesday, March 21.

I am Marissa Alexander; I received 20 years for firing a warning shot in the air.

I am the nine month pregnant Raven Dozier, kicked in my stomach by a police officer and forced to have an emergency c-section.

Stereotypes:

I am your “nappy headed hoes” your “Obama’s Baby Mama” and your “Black and Bleu” burger

I am your video vixen, your dream girl, your superhead and your love jones.

Speaking my truth:

I am a child witness to domestic, sexual and community violence.

I am a survivor of sexual assault.

I am but if you love her how could you hurt her?

I am a man of God, but I’ll beat the sh*t out of your mom Monday through Saturday when no one’s looking.

I am forgive but don’t forget, yeah he touches little kids but he’s safe to be in the church unattended.

I am what do you mean I can’t get pain killers because I’ll sell them, what about my pain?

I am where the fight for reproductive health and justice intersect, I stand for reproductive justice.

I am the daughter of a warrior, her spirit cannot be broken.

I am sister to Gladys, Erika, Melissa, Shay, Aisya, Cretia, Eric, Junior, and Daniel.

I am the teen mother who confused sex with love, the mother of chocolate chip and brown sugar, they carry my legacy.

The single mother who is called bitter yet, you’ve never laid eyes on your child in your life.

I am survival sex, no I don’t want to but if I don’t, where will I sleep?

I am sistafriend to the fiercest activists walking; they don’t drink the Kool-Aid.

I am the name you will never see in a history book.

I am The Color Purple and The Colored Girl who Considered Suicide Because the Rainbow Isn’t Enough.

I am the fiercest advocate for justice you may ever meet.

I am our struggles, I am our strengths, and I am our deepest secrets, our internal lies.

It is my duty to speak the truth as I see it, my strengths, my struggles, my deepest secrets and my internal lies.


Annika Leonard is a participant in a collective of Black women bloggers supported by Strong Families. She is committed to the challenge of organizing against oppression - a task that has led her to direct action, critical dialogue, and to a life of service. She is an educator, mother, daughter, and survivor who lives and works in Wisconsin. 

High Rate of Foreclosures Affects the Numbers of Potential Voters

A recent report by UC Riverside researchers has discovered that the obstacles to voting extend beyond the general ideas of lack of education and economic disparity. With the growing number of American families that have fallen victim to the foreclosure crisis, the report co-author, Michael Johnson, explains that the reality of losing a house strongly affects voting practices, specifically in communities of color, which are already at a participatory disadvantage. Furthermore, many people who have lost their home might not prioritize voting as they are focused on survival, the stress of changing addresses to re-register to vote, or engaging in acts of self care.





For voters faced with potential foreclosure, this link provides helpful insight as to how to navigate this crisis: http://www.fairelectionsnetwork.com/webfm_send/209

Coming out to sounds of liberation

By Bianca Campbell

We celebrate Pride a little late here in the South. We trade shirtless summers for intimate autumns, boots and scarves. A cold beverage this Sunday almost seemed ironic considering the thermostat, but I’ve been in a heat wave of beautiful minds. In early October, SPARK partnered with Cereus Arts to honor queer women of color with a songwriting workshop followed by a powerful show The Revival - the next day.

When I arrived at the songwriting workshop at Marlee’s café, open late just for us, I was taken back to a time when soul and blues reigned supreme in Black communities. Flappers were comparatively independent, but queer Black women didn’t necessarily feel safe enough to proclaim themselves with a parade in the streets. In the 1920’s, we met in closed parlors and candle-lit living rooms. We came out only to each other with sweet words, warm songs, wine and embrace.

Black Pride is rooted in the sharing of our voices and complicated lived experiences; from the channeling of our grandparents’ resilience through their work songs, from runs and harmonies in their resistance, from a vocal revival. From the living rooms, our laughter, moans and hymns spawned a growing buzz reflective of our increasingly visible power.

That Wednesday, while swinging my arms in a circle of 12 brilliant Black queer women, I recreated that historical moment for myself. We belted, rapped, clapped and cackled. Our buzzing proclaimed who we were to the unknowing passerby stopping in for a late hot cocoa: that if you stepped into our space, you must respect us—and if you stay long enough, you might catch us loving each other, catch a glimpse of something phenomenal.

We ended the workshop, well after closing hours, propped up only by the aura of glory. We recorded our historical presence with 15 new songs and a few humorous photographs. At the Revival concert the following day, 30 women of color sat around in a living room, sipping wine, touching shoulders to the sounds of sisters sharing secrets, songs, and poetry.

Queer folk spend so much time coming out by waving flags at the capitol and protesting Chick-fil-a. We spend a lot of our precious time together as a community feeling under attack. This revival was a way of coming out I had never considered before - intimate, personal, vulnerable, loved.

“Out” to me isn’t just about being visible to heterosexual people. Sometimes, it means “out from under.” Out from under the pressures to be the ideal queer citizen who was just “born this way,” who will fight on capitol hill until the “ultimate privilege” of marriage is given. Out from under the pressures of being out. In the presence of people who don’t expect or need you to be their champion.

I never considered spending Pride by being humbled. Pouring a drink for a wonderful spirit. Hugging close enough to smell past their perfume and deep down into their essence. Counting the passing seconds that you’re able to hold another woman, letting it be purposefully intimate, even a little sensual. Out in a pressure-less way. Out in a way that says, “I am ready to love. Have me.” 

Bianca Campbell is a part of a collective of Black women bloggers supported by Strong Families. She is an Organizer with SPARK Reproductive Justice Now where she facilitates workshops and develops curricula that bring together queer theory with racial and reproductive justice movements. She lives and works in Atlanta, GA. 

Strongly-religious not necessarily socially conservative

By Cathy Levy, Ohio Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice

I get so frustrated when people assume that all religious people are conservative.  In early October,  Columbus, Ohio's newspaper (the Dispatch), put out a great article about the various faith-issues that drive voters.  It was a fair article, giving equal time to both parties.  What irked me was the trend that was cited that noted most strongly-religious people are conservative, and the rest are progressive.  There's that darn stereotype again.

Feeling frustrated, I decided to write a letter to the editor, and they printed it!  It appears below--along with some great photos.

As a deeply religious Presbyterian that works hard for pro-choice causes and for other social justice issues, and as someone who works for these causes because of my call to love my neighbor and "seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly," these stereotypes not only anger me, but they also steal the moral high ground from our progressive movements and suck away some of our power.  I think we deserve this high ground.  I think it's time we seize our share.  I think it's high time that we stand proudly as religious, moral, spiritual leaders, and stand up against the injustices with a clear voice.

An article entitled Faith-linked issues guide some voters in the October 5th Columbus Dispatch cited a trend that “strong believers” in religion tend to be conservative Republicans and others tend to be Democrats.

I am wondering whether this trend analysis might have overlooked the “strong believers” such as myself and so many of my friends and colleagues, who are truly not conservative when it comes to social issues. As a leader of a nonpartisan, interfaith, pro-choice organization, the Ohio Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, I see an altogether-different trend.

Progressive, tolerant, religious, spiritual and moral people tend to be very polite and nice when other religious people claim contrary beliefs. This often stems from our devotion to our country’s religious freedom and freedom of speech, so we generously grant rights to diverse opinions and ways of life. We are peaceful.

Since we are so polite and nice, the media, and perhaps the trend-analyzers, don’t notice us. It’s time for us to get noticed. When conservative people try to control other people’s decision-making and lives in order to “express” their religious principles, either through stigma, law, restrictive insurance policies or an oppressive lack of opportunity, we have to step up and call that social injustice.
We “strongly religious” people must vote, speak, write, march, pray and cry out to oppose such injustice. We must work, in peace, for change that will create a more-tolerant community where strong families of every shape and size are supported and loved.

Indeed, “strongly religious” people need to speak up so that we are not lumped into the conservative stereotype suggested by the trend-analyzers, and more importantly, so that we can help bring about the change that hearts ache for.

Cathy Levy is the Executive Director of the Ohio Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice.  Ohio RCRC brings the moral power of religious communities to bear to insure reproductive choice, freedom, and justice through education, advocacy, and counseling. 

We all count: a southern movement for justice

By Bianca Campbell

"A Black woman's body is never hers alone." - Fannie Lou Hamer

On September 21, SPARK - as part of the Southern Movement Assembly - joined a caravan of Southern activists and organizations heading down to Lowndes County, Alabama to build political power toward a future of long term systemic change in our region, beyond the November elections. Though the political discourse has attempted to divide us, that weekend, we saw the wedges dissolve. They weakened during the 4-hour drive with intergenerational reminiscing. The wedges buckled with each stake we hammered into the campsite. They wavered when Black Panther elders shared their story for a future they had envisioned 40 years ago, which turned out to be everyone’s ideal, free world. They dissolved. No one would be erased. We all counted.

Anchored by Project South, the Southern Movement Assembly is one tactic of a larger We All Count campaign. The Assembly is an effort led by grassroots organizations with the Southern Movement Alliance to increase voter education and registration in underrepresented communities, train new organizers, and create a Southern People’s Plan to activate our communities beyond the elections in November.

My organization, SPARK, sees the Assembly, the Alliance, and the We All Count Campaign, as avenues to better infuse a gender and reproductive justice politic that is often times neglected in racial and economic justice and broader civic engagement movements. No longer can we understand issues of reproductive justice as “women’s work,” but as movement work - a movement towards strong families, safe communities, and whole people.

Bringing our reproductive justice lens to these venues is crucial for we cannot separate our reproductive and sexual health from our economic and racial justice work. Activists advancing contraception access, sex education, the prohibition of shackling pregnant women in jail and prison, safe abortion access, and LGBTQ justice had to fight tooth and nail this last legislative session to keep hard-earned rights and to demand new ones. Our reproductive justice issues were used as wedge issues during stump speeches and used to set political platforms to keep our communities apart. (Conversations of welfare and food stamps are as much about our reproduction as they are about our finances.) Reproductive rights advocates participated in the DNC, but they failed to demand unapologetic abortion access. What they did was demand exceptions for rape and incest, which perpetuates the notion of good abortions (in cases of rape and incest) versus bad abortions (done simply because a woman didn’t want to be pregnant). Worse, their respectability approach to abortion is no longer working on moderate Republicans: the RNC has become even more conservative and has renounced exceptions in cases of rape and incest. Not only a part of the RNC platform, this was also evidenced by a bill in Georgia passed this year that bans all abortions after 20 weeks except for severe health conditions impacting the mother. Focusing the conversation about specific abortion policies instead of coalescing around a concerted effort to achieve holistic body autonomy, wellness, and chosen families has led to this devastating loss at the legislature.

This 2012 session is neither the first, nor will it be the last that our liberties are held in the balance. Living and working in a region that has been historically and systematically denied support, the We All Count Campaign and especially the Southern Movement Assembly, provides low-income people, women of color, LGBTQ people, youth, immigrants, people with disabilities, and formerly incarcerated people an opportunity to set an agenda, a Southern people’s platform, that holds up all of our identities, struggles, and visions for a region we call home.

Fueled with inspiration from this trip, SPARK sounds the call to reproductive justice activists and organizations in the South to not only be present, but to help craft vision and action towards body autonomy, strong families, and communities free from all forms of violence. Honoring the legacy and rich tradition of Black women Civil Rights leaders like Coretta Scott King, Ella Baker, and Fannie Lou Hamer, and on the ground in historic Selma, Alabama, we demand reproductive justice for our bodies, our communities, and our futures.

100 days after the election, SPARK has committed to reunite with Project South and the Assembly for a regional week of RJ action, pushing out legislative agendas, women of color perspectives, and strategic communications that help the South solidify pro-active legislation such as prohibiting the shackling of incarcerated pregnant women and implementing the Affordable Care Act. It will bolster our defense against legislation like Personhood amendments that seek to weaken our families. With our solidified power, trust, and commitment we will collectively dissolve the wedges.



Bianca Campbell is a part of a collective of Black women bloggers supported by Strong Families. She is an Organizer with SPARK Reproductive Justice Now where she facilitates workshops and develops curricula that bring together queer theory with racial and reproductive justice movements. She lives and works in Atlanta, GA.

Queertopia: the evolution toward a one-mind society

By Akasha Orr

I “came out” while living in Los Angeles at age 27. Older than most folks I know. There was no party and I didn’t time it with National Coming Out day… Just me, a telephone and one, very long, awkward silence between me and my mother. It was as if everything stopped after I said the words, “Mom, I’m gay.” She didn’t respond right away, or even a few seconds later. Total silence. I finally asked if she’d heard what I said, to which she replied, “I heard you. I don’t believe you. But I heard you. I love you no matter who you think you are.” After attempting to convince her that it wasn’t a phase, I wasn’t confused and it wasn’t because the men in LA are “weird” (her words, not mine), I realized that I would just have to agree to disagree with her.

Coming out to my mother wasn’t done in a haphazard way. I had been in a relationship with a woman for almost 6 months (my first) and the feeling of hiding was beginning to weigh on me. My parents live on the East Coast, so there was no danger of one of their friends’ kids seeing me out partying in West Hollywood with my beautiful queer family. I could remain closeted for as long as I wished since gay marriage is illegal and that wouldn’t be happening any time soon! A month or so prior to this admission, I had had another awkward conversation…this time with my dad. My dad and I never talk about relationships or who I’m dating, so him leading me down this road felt strange and forced. I was multi-tasking, putting on my makeup for my workday while chatting and so wasn’t truly engaged in this talk. I hadn’t realized that I had been giving him very vague answers to questions such as, “Have you met a man you’re interested in? Are you dating someone seriously? Anyone you’d want to introduce to your mother and me?” Finally, my dad asked me very pointedly, “You are looking for the right man aren’t you? I mean, you wouldn’t be looking for a woman, right?” Being totally unprepared for these questions, my response was very reactive… I said something like, “What difference would it make, man or woman? If I met a woman and I’m in love and she’s really good to me, and I’m happy, wouldn’t you just want me to be happy?” No. He wouldn’t. And he didn’t think that was the right response. He threw the Bible at me from 3,000 miles away and said he’d be praying for me. I abruptly got off the phone and headed for work; visibly shaken and emotionally drained.

National Coming Out Day, for me, is a reminder of the relational inequalities that still persist…the privilege that eats at me from time to time. While I appreciate the grand acknowledgement and the space it creates for folks to broach a subject that is daunting and can be terrifying, I also feel that it highlights the fact that gay people have to “come out” at all! Do straight people sit their families and friends down and have awkward conversations about their sexual and relationship choices, like, “Hey mom and dad, I hope you can accept this, but I just wanted you to know that I’m straight. So glad I got that off my chest! How do you guys feel about that?” Why is this still necessary?

I would love to see a world where we all assume nothing about each other and instead exist in a utopian ideal of sameness until there is difference; and that the difference would be met with unconditional love and support. That one day, a young man could come home from college with his partner and simply introduce him to the family as if there is nothing that needs explaining. Maybe this happens for some folks. But in general, I’d like to see the need for such things as National Coming Out Day, be eradicated because they are unnecessary. Because it shouldn’t matter. Because the gender of whom each of us chooses to include in our lives is a personal choice and does not need approval or disapproval.

8 years after coming out to my family, we are at a standstill. They acknowledge that I am sure of my footing and trust my judgment but we do not talk about my romantic life. Each time I become involved with someone new, I wonder if they will be the first partner to meet my parents and how will my parents react to finally putting a face to a reality they still may not accept? When my choice to marry becomes fully legal, will they attend my wedding? When I have a child, conceived through artificial insemination in all likelihood, will they choose to be involved…not just with me and my child, but with my partner and her/their family as well? Questions that keep me in a cycle of desire, despair, apathy and frustration. While distinctions are important to our survival as humans, many are hurtful and keep us trapped in institutionalized separation. The distinction between straight and gay/queer is one that is the most provocative and marginalizing for me.

In my utopia, we are all queer, meaning we champion each others causes, care about each others' rights work towards each others' freedoms and delight in each others' happiness! We’ve removed the word ‘bully’ from the dictionary because we’ve stopped doing it. The rainbow belongs to everyone and unicorns return to being symbols of the magical within the mundane. Fairies are once again beautiful, woodland tricksters you want to be blessed by but definitely not mess with! And no one “comes out” anymore because we are all content to co-exist outside of our boxed-in identities. As soon as I figure out the recipe for pixie dust, my parents will be the first to join me in Queertopia.

Talk to me

By Amalia Deloney, Center for Media Justice.  Originally posted at Moms Rising.

The impact of incarceration transcends the boundaries of penal institutions. In addition to the financial challenges it generates, comes the emotional effect of being separated from a loved one. More than half of prisoners with children are held more than 100 miles away from where they lived previously, and 10% are held over 500 miles away. As a result, traveling for in-person visits is time consuming and expensive–and thus unaffordable for many. Given this, access to low-cost phone service options should be part of the connectivity equation. In fact, connecting Moms, children, partners and relatives should be a national priority! The research is clearly on our side–childhood development experts say that regular contact between family members and their incarcerated loved ones is essential for everyone’s health and wellbeing. And, studies show that regular communication between inmates and their support system can also help reduce the likelihood of a return to prison.

As Luisa, a mom involved with our work, said, “I’m just a Mom. I need to know how my son is, and how he’s doing. For me to have communication with my son, it’s like having hope, I need him as much as he needs me.”
Today, it can cost a mom more than $18 for a 15-minute phone call with her child in prison. In either case, driven by corporate profiteering, families are forced to pay these excessive rates or give up staying connected. Our communities urgently need federal oversight of predatory prison phone call rates, which is why the Media Action Grassroots Network (MAG-Net) —together with Prison Legal News and Working Narratives—developed the national Campaign for Prison Phone Justice. Since 2010, this campaign has mobilized thousands of incarcerated individuals and their families, criminal justice and civil rights advocates, media makers and activists from across the country to lower the lost of calls from prison.

Luisa’s 14-year-old son was sentenced as an adult and sent to prison at the age of 14. She has sent countless letters to him but can rarely hear his voice due to the predatory phone rates charged in the United States prison system. Listen to her story!

We partnered with Participant Media, a film company that creates specific social action campaigns for their releases, designed to give a voice to issues that resonate in the films. Participant Media has chosen the film Middle of Nowhere, to support our campaign. This film, which releases in U.S. theaters starting Oct. 12th chronicles a woman’s separation from her incarcerated husband, revealing the challenges faced by families in staying connected to loved ones in prison and the effect on both parties.

By showing support for the film you’re not only championing independent female filmmakers of color, but you’re making media that matters a part of the national (and international) conversation. Let us know if you plan to see the film, then join our Campaign for Prison Phone Justice and let the FCC know that mothers care about this issue!

Amalia is the Associate Director at the Center for Media Justice and leads the policy initiatives of CMJ and the Media Action Grassroots Network.

Strong Stance Fends Off Anti-Choice Efforts

Re-posted from the Western States Center blog.

Every week when Olivia and I sit down to plan the work of Montana Women Vote we think of all the fabulous things we could work on. We could trumpet the personal stories of women overcoming hardship in Montana, or, perhaps, just spend the week chatting about our cats.

But alas, other issues always seem to win over our time and energy. These past few months our hopes for a calm period have been repeatedly dashed by the comments of the likes of Representative Todd Akin, whose words made it clear that the war on women is alive and well.

Todd Akin is the now infamous U.S. Representative from Missouri who, when defending his position against abortion even in cases of rape or incest, stated, “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

Missouri wasn’t the only place where some politicians were seriously getting it wrong this past month. A candidate for the Pennsylvania state senate, Tom Smith, took the conversation one step further. Not only did he echoed his opposition to abortion under any circumstances, but when asked how he would address his own daughter if she were raped that she had to keep the baby, Smith relied that he had already lived through something similar as a father when his own daughter got pregnant out of wedlock and she chose life. (To be clear, we don’t believe that pregnancy out of wedlock and rape are the same thing at all. Not. At. All.)

While it may seem that these troublesome remarks are more thick on the ground this year than in the past, the fact is that the Right has been fighting the war on women for decades now. Western States Center and the Ballot Initiative Strategy Center have published, A Brief History of Abortion Related Initiatives and Referenda, showing the long and concerted efforts of anti-choice activists at the ballot. This brief history shows two facts in stark relief:

1. These initiatives are overwhelmingly defeated as the majority of Americans are pro-choice.

2. Anti-abortion activists have been waging a war of attrition – a “chipping-away strategy” – that takes huge amounts of our time and energy to fight.

Here, in Montana, we are once again joining the ranks of states facing an anti-abortion initiative. This one comes not from citizen activists, but from our own state legislature, which referred the issues of parental notice for young women seeking abortion to the ballot. (This was a tactic our legislature used to avoid a veto from the governor, who counts himself among the majority of pro-choice Americans.) We hope that we will defeat this initiative as we have in the past, but we also know that we are working for the long-term as well – for even if we win this November, we will be seeing anti-choice legislation in the 2013 session, and likely more anti-choice initiatives in 2014.

Clearly, anti-choice activists have committed themselves to the sort of incremental, long-term work of influencing public debate, driving resources toward the issue, and “losing forward” by proposing these initiatives again and again.

We too must approach this work with an eye to the future – how do we defeat the current crop of initiatives, or next years’ legislation, in a way that is true to our values and makes us stronger? Surely, knowing the history of this fight is a strong first step. As always, Western States Center is ready to help lay the groundwork with this important new piece.


Sarah Howell is the co-director of Montana Women Vote and former trainer & organizer at Western States Center.

The Scary and Exhilarating Feeling of Door Knocking

Re-posted from the Western States Center blog.

Uniting Communities cohort members showing UC pride!

As my door-knocking partner and I knock on the first door, I notice the following:

A kid's bike, about the same size as my son's, lays in the front yard.

Adults' and kids' shoes are scattered outside the front door.

There's a scuff mark from a shoe on the door, as though someone tapped it with their foot because they were carrying a child or bags of groceries in their arms.

Every time I knock on a door, my heart races a little and I say to myself, "What's the first thing I'm supposed to say?"

Last Saturday, we coordinated 25 activists from Western States Center’s Uniting Communities and Basic Rights Oregon's Our Families cohort members to talk to people of color about Referendum 74, which is on the Washington state ballot this November to expand the freedom to marry to gay and lesbian couples.

Through the miracle of technology, each canvassing pair has been given 40 "people of color" homes to knock on this afternoon. The science behind matching voter data from the Secretary of State's office on race and ethnicity is a bit of a mystery - there were clearly Russian names that have been misidentified as Asian - but our list is relatively accurate.

Each time a door opens, I have to check my assumptions and stereotypes.

The big guy with a cigarette in his hand, whose entryway was full of boxes and broken computer parts? Completely supportive.

The young African American woman who I'm afraid I had just woken her up from a nap and seemed a little cranky? She wants a lawn sign.

The Latina woman with the funky purple fingernails and awesome rhinestone cat eye glasses? Not supportive, but at least we had a polite conversation.

For the last three months I've worked intensively on the "Why Marriage Matters Washington" (WMMW) campaign with communities of color.Last Saturday was the first time I talked to every day, regular folks of color about marriage for gay and lesbian couples.

Our WMMW work focused on organizations and leaders so it's refreshing to talk to people who are not thinking about organizational ramifications of taking a position in support of the freedom to marry, but are, instead, just thinking of their gay coworker, neighbor or family member.

After two hours of of door-knocking, my partner and I reach 10 people - most of whom are supportive. We register one person to vote and give registration cards to the two people who just moved from California.

As we walk back to the van, we meet up with another pair of canvassers - and they are quite literally glowing. The first person they reached was not a supporter but instead of walking away, one of the canvassers shared his personal experience being gay and what marriage means to him.

At the end of the canvass, our group gathers at First Congregational Church to debrief. We greeted every pair entering the room with cheers. It was clear that everyone has had a transformative experience. People who were nervous about door-knocking are smiling and sharing stories of successful conversations.

Door-knocking on LGBTQ issues can be tough. All of the hateful things that we think may come up in conversation serve as a caution, making us understandably worried. It is even more agonizing for LGBTQ people because it can evoke past experiences when their safety was threatened.

Peter Dakota, a veteran canvasser and part of the Our Families cohort shared, "Yes, knocking on doors is scary and hard. But it's still the only way we can win." I agree. I'm ready to sign up for my next shift.


Kalpana Krishnamurthy is the Gender Justice Program and RACE Program Director at the Western States Center. In this position, she launched the Uniting Communities program and was on the team that created the Uniting Communities Toolkit, which is being used in many grassroots organizations to address LGBTQ issues.

Strong Families member launches "Draw the Line" campaign

by: Nina Jacinto

We were thrilled to see a new campaign from Strong Families member, Center for Reproductive Rights, advocating for a Bill of Reproductive Rights. Their campaign is called "Draw the Line" and features a fantastic website and video starring some familiar faces - Meryl Streep, Kevin Bacon and Amy Poehler to name a few.

The rights include:

1. The right to make our own decisions about our reproductive health and future, free from intrusion or coercion by any government, group, or individual.

2. The right to a full range of safe, affordable, and readily accessible reproductive health care—including pregnancy care, preventive services, contraception, abortion, and fertility treatment—and accurate information about all of the above.

3. The right to be free from discrimination in access to reproductive health care or on the basis of our reproductive decisions.

Check out the campaign and sign today!

From racist billboards to the billboard charts - Ryan Bomberger's rebranding

Re-posted from the Political Research Associates blog.

Emerging anti-choice leader Ryan Bomberger took center stage mid-September at the Christian Right’s Values Voter Summit. Prior to walking on stage, Bomberger was introduced as an Emmy award-winning creative media professional, who was adopted by a Christian family after his biological mother, raped, carried him to term. After that compelling introduction, the lights dimmed as the mega screens displayed Bomberger’s recent work—an animated anti-Obama election short. For the politically conservative, largely Caucasian audience, this eased any concerns that Bomberger might be among the majority of African Americans in favor of President Obama’s reelection.

Bomberger continued aligning himself with this audience by proudly stating, “I’m as black as Obama. That means I’m half white, half black. That doesn’t make me an African-American. Just…simply…American.” This declaration of his racial identity implicitly criticizes President Obama’s identification as African American and sniffs of birther rhetoric—especially given Bomberger’s subsequent statement affirming he was raised in “Pennsylvania Dutch Country and loves ham loaf.”

You might not know Bomberger and his organization, The Radiance Foundation, by name, but you likely saw or heard of their controversial anti-choice billboard campaign, “TooManyAborted.com.” The vicious campaign targeting the African American community—specifically women—launched in 2010 with eye-catching billboards including the faces and bodies of African American babies and toddlers alongside statements comparing poignant moments in Black history or current concerns such as urban violence to abortion rates. The taglines included “The 13th Amendment Freed Us, Abortion Enslaves Us” and “Black Children are Endangered Species.”

Although his media savvy is part of a new area of activism, Bomberger’s use of degrading language is quite old and racist. In fact, Bomberger’s point of view about African American women’s sexuality, reproduction, and family formation is part of a long history reaching back to chattel slavery when enslaved African women’s reproduction was legally owned and regulated for the sake of production. Bomberger’s perspective gives a clear nod to Reagan-era Right wing propaganda, which planted middle class tax burdens and the complex ills plaguing inner city communities squarely at the feet of poor African American mothers thought to be having too many babies. Today, Bomberger, along with a host of Right wing anti-choice actors, are again zeroing in on African American women by accusing us of committing Black genocide  because some in our community have chosen abortion.

Like our historical foremothers, African American women leaders along with women of color allies strategized and successfully pushed back these initial Right-wing efforts and got billboards removed from our communities. To learn more about these earlier campaigns and how women of color fought back, read the piece I co-wrote for the National Women’s Health Network and Miriam Zoila Pérez’s 2011 Colorlines article, “Past and Present Collide as the Black Anti-Abortion Movement Grows.”

Bomberger hinted that we should stay tuned for new campaign efforts that will be launched this fall. These efforts will include anti-choice television ads cloaked as adoption public service announcements, touring and speaking at major conservative anti-choice events, and even music—Bomberger broke into song during his breakout session at Values Voters, giving a teaser of just one line of the Pop and R&B-sounding ballad dedicated to his biological mother. He was quick to let the audience know that he had CDs of the song that is now available on iTunes.

It seems that Bomberger is shifting his focus, at least for now, from the African American community to another aspect of his identity—an adoptee of a rape survivor—in order to situate himself as an authority on women’s reproductive healthcare access. He stands poised, as he spoke twice at Values Voters, to be a key voice in the Right’s movement to reduce abortion access even in cases of rape. After GOP senate hopeful Todd Akins was asked by GOP leadership to step out of the race due to his grossly illogical and dangerous statement about women’s biological capacity to fight off unwanted pregnancy due to rape (“legitimate rape”), Bomberger wrote, “As one born as a result of rape, I feel those who demanded that Congressman Akin step down allow the pro-abortion narrative to remain…”

Yet, what Bomberger seems to miss when he credits his biological mother‘s brave choice to keep him, is that she made a decision—hard, I am sure, but one that made sense to her and was protected by the law—and every woman deserves the same opportunity.

Stay tuned for my comprehensive article for PRA considering Bomberger and new opposition attacks on reproductive justice…

Malika Redmond is a participant in a collective of Black women bloggers supported by Strong Families. She is the Lead Gender Justice Researcher for Political Research Associates where she exposes oppositional strategies to suppress gender equality so that we may create loving, compassionate, and accountable realities. You can read her blogs here.

When Welfare Was White: What The Fight Over the Safety Net Is Really All About

by Scot Nakagawa

This blog was originally posted on Race Files. 

Much has been written about the fight over the social safety net. Many say that Newt Gingrich calling President Obama the “food stamps president,” and Mitt Romney lying about the President dropping the work requirement in welfare is dog whistle racism meant to gin up a base they’ve spent 50 years building with racist appeals to civil rights backlash.

I agree. But I also think there’s something missing from that argument. We have, it seems to me, become so focused on trying to demonize conservatives as racists that we are missing just how fundamental racism has always been to the structure of the welfare state and, what’s more, what all the fuss over means-based government entitlements is really all about.

In order to understand what’s at the base of all of this fighting, one need only remember back to when welfare was white.

Gary Delgado and Rebecca Gordon write in From Poverty to Punishment: How Welfare Reform Punishes the Poor,

At first, welfare was based on a specific, if unarticulated, ideology of gender roles and race. Its framers expected that white women’s primary responsibility would be child rearing and unpaid domestic labor, while white men would engage in paid labor as their families’ “breadwinners.” Based on this division of labor with the family, paid work was expected to provide a “breadwinner wage” – a wage that would support the paid worker, his wife, and their children. With the introduction of welfare, the government assumed financial responsibility when no other breadwinner was available. White widows were cast as “deserving damsels in distress.”

Aid to Families with Dependent Children(AFDC), what we think of as welfare, was introduced as part of the Social Security Act of 1935, which also provided social security and unemployment insurance. At its inception, AFDC didn’t anticipate the participation of women of color, especially Black women. The intent of the program was to keep white women out of the workforce so they could fulfill their role as mothers.

The framers didn’t consider the value of Black women to their families, but instead focused on their value to the white-owned businesses and white households that employed them. Black women were expected to work, and in highly exploitative jobs that few whites would ever take. And welfare was designed to avoid interfering with their availability as workers. This is why some welfare offices in the South stopped providing aid to Black families during cotton picking season.

In subsequent generations, as people of color won access to welfare, the program changed, as did our ideas about welfare recipients. The political debate shifted from how to provide for the needy as a way of serving the common good, to how to control the deviant behaviors of recipients who were cast as lazy, dishonest, promiscuous moochers. The sentiment driving the post-integration discussion of welfare can be summed up the by the title of the act that reformed welfare under Clinton: The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act. That Act assumes that recipients are alienated from work because of their dependency on welfare, rather than because they are denied all but the most onerous, low-paid and humiliating work. To reconcile them to work, time limits and penalties were imposed on recipients to push them into the workforce.

So let’s get it straight. The fight over who does and doesn’t deserve welfare is a fight about race and always has been. In fact, it has roots that stretch all the way back to the days of neo-slavery which, after all, was not completely abolished until 1948, 13 years after welfare went national. It is also very important to recognize the profound and vicious sexism that informs the paternalistic attitude shaping welfare policy, allowing us to talk about recipients but not with them, as though they have nothing to offer to the debate.

But, maybe most importantly, while racism has been used as a weapon to attack welfare, the fight isn’t just about race.

The real fight over welfare is over workers and wages. And while the fight over workers and wages cannot be separated from our history of slavery, coolie labor, and manipulation of immigration policy to maintain a pool of highly exploitable immigrant labor, race isn’t the only thing driving the dynamic.

This is why providing benefits to white widows who would otherwise be housewives was relatively noncontroversial. But when welfare became a program that interfered with the super-exploitation of Black women, all that changed.

That’s why conservatives are so obsessed with welfare when there are so many other areas of spending that are less popular and doing so much more to drive up the deficit. A robust social safety net drives up wages, just as the threat of poverty and unemployment drives wages down. The more vulnerable we are, the more desperate we become. That, to me, is what all the fuss is about.


Scot Nakagawa is a Senior Partner at ChangeLab, a grassroots think tank dedicated to addressing issues of race and racism in the U.S. Follow him @nakagawascot

I am Annika

Audre Lorde once stated that if you define yourself for yourself then you leave no room for other people’s interpretation of you. It’s important for me to define myself because most of my life I’ve felt misunderstood. My mom frequently reminds me of a number of things about my childhood: how pretty I was, how diplomatic I’ve always been and how everyone thought there was something wrong with me because no one could understand a word I said for the first five years of my life. I was pretty because of my skin tone and the texture of my hair. I was diplomatic because from the time my mom could remember, I made sure everyone had equal amounts of kool-aid, chips, or whatever other snacks were distributed. I was misunderstood because my words ran together and my sister spoke so clearly and so much, that I paled in comparison.

Fast forward to today, I’m still pretty, I’m still diplomatic and I’m still misunderstood. Only now, I’ve developed an analysis around why I’m misunderstood. It’s taken me 30 years to understand that I view the world through a unique lens and that many times people do not understand what I’m saying. The problem is that my words require action and provoke thought. Sometimes people are not ready to move or change the behavior that is familiar and, often times, comforting to them. I can relate. It’s taken me this long to document my thoughts because I was, to some degree, comfortable with people listening to me but not hearing me. This is why the idea of writing a blog is exciting to me. It is my chance to let the world know who I am by sharing my thoughts while asking people to reflect on my writing and move to action where appropriate.

I acknowledge that growth is a process and who I am today may change based on a book I might read tomorrow. With that said I invite you all to join me as I discuss my viewpoints on events, both past and present, particularly as they relate to my topics of interest which include, but are not limited to:

• Preventing violence against Black Women and girls 
• Racial and Reproductive Justice 
• Media representation of Black Women and girls 
• Cultivating adult-youth partnerships 

Audre Lorde’s work really speaks to me, which is why I need to end my post with another quote of hers. She says that, “I feel I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and to share not just my triumphs, not just the things that feel good, but the pain, the intense and often mitigating pain.” This sums it up right here. I will speak to my pain, to my struggle and to my triumphs. A commonality between five year old Annika and 34 year old Annika is that I never stopped trying to communicate with people and I never will. Welcome, I hope you stay tuned.

Annika Leonard is a participant in a collective of Black women bloggers supported by Strong Families. She is committed to the challenge of organizing against oppression - a task that has led her to direct action, critical dialogue, and to a life of service. She is an educator, mother, daughter, and survivor who lives and works in Wisconsin. 

 

The Ballot Box as a Weapon: Why I vote

Create your own frame here.

by Moira Bowman

A response to my friend Nina's post from earlier today.

I hear why you sometimes you have to work up enthusiasm for voting.  My relationship to voting is slightly different from yours because the stark reality of how the ballot box is used as a weapon has been so deeply imprinted on my psyche.

I came of voting age in Oregon, a state where in the course of three years, the human dignity of queer and trans communities was voted on 19 times in both local and statewide elections.  The blatant dehumanizing language in the infamous Measure 9  - “(Oregon) recognizes homosexuality, pedophilia, sadism and masochism as abnormal, wrong, unnatural, and perverse” - put up for a majority vote - was felt deeply within our communities, through our fear, through our bodies, through our tears. 

While the context in Oregon has changed, queer and trans people have access to domestic partnership; discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity is no longer legal; and, Portland now has trans inclusive health care for city employees, the experience of waiting to find out the range of human compassion in the electorate time and time again will always be with me. 

The hardest part about elections is peeling back the masking effect of messages, polls, and deadening nationalism to discover whose human dignity is at stake in every school board, legislative, presidential race or ballot measure. Beneath the wonky police-y discourse lie both values and visions for our communities and our families.  Our system makes it hard to understand what is at stake. It systematically works to exclude people of color and low-income communities.  And so, our system must change.  But in this moment, I hope that people will join me in voting for human dignity if they can and will be kind to each other as we wait to find out if the compassion of the electorate extends to all our families.

Moira is the Deputy Director at Forward Together. 

Voting: I don't love it, but I'll always do it.

Artwork by Faviana Rodriguez

by: Nina Jacinto

I'm not the kind of person who gets excited about voting. I've heard stories from friends of going with their families to the polls as children, of preserving their "I voted" stickers on laptops. I was never like that. My parents always voted, but it wasn't an event. More of a responsibility - as immigrants, they had to earn their vote, and I suspect they never wanted to take it for granted.

The states where I grew up didn't help my enthusiasm. I spent my childhood in Texas and have been in California ever since.  In my states, there's always a clear winner and loser when it comes to Presidents - we know where those electoral votes are going even before the campaigns start. That's how it's always been, how it will always be. My votes have hardly felt special or significant, like they probably would have if I lived in New Hampshire.

Voting in local elections made things feel more significant but still not particularly thrilling. There was always so much rhetoric to weed through, so many arguments back and forth that were never targeted to me because I've never been a swing voter or an undecided. People don't want me in focus groups to determine what language resonates with me. I'm not courted by the Gallup pollers.

Voting feels like an inconvenience more than anything. An important inconvenience. But I do vote, even though my individual vote doesn't feel really important. Despite the limitations of our country's bipartisan setup, and the electoral college, and even voter laws, I think voting is a privilege. It's something that, under different circumstances, I may not have had. It doesn't make me feel like my voice is being heard, but it reminds me that I have a voice and that I'm able to use it in a number of ways. It helps me acknowledge the thousands who fought for their right to be counted. I don't think voting needs to feel idealistic and warm and fuzzy. It can feel complicated and a bit nauseating and maybe even hopeless, especially when we don't agree with 100% of a person or policy. But I will still vote.

We want voting to feel like a way to create all the changes to the systems that impact us. The reality is, voting is just one of the ways we speak up. We organize. We write. We tell our stories. We advocate for new policies and laws. We canvass our neighborhoods and make asks of our decision makers when there are no cameras watching. We challenge and criticize the people we elect to hold them accountable for the promises they made. Combined, it's a great big picture of what it means to make our communities and country better.

So vote. Do all the things you do, and also vote. If you can't vote, tell people to vote. If you don't know what to vote for, find ways to help you make a decision. It may feel too insignificant to matter, but it's also too important to ignore.

Nina is the Development Manager at Forward Together. She loves the internet and a good cup of tea. You can follow her on twitter @msninaricha

Forward Together youth organizers meet Strong Families New Mexico

by mai doan

Last week, we had the incredible opportunity of visiting Strong Families New Mexico. Our goal was manifold and included doing exchanges with other fierce organizations such as Young Women United, building organizational and individual capacity for Forward Stance, and of course, eating delicious (and spicy!!) food.

But one of the most memorable moments was an event Forward Together co-hosted with Young Women United to explore the topic of civic engagement and it's relationship to our various communities.

We used theater of the oppressed to explore the ways that the electoral system and processes for voting both support and undermine the voices, needs, and power of our communities. We built skits from our dreams of less oppressive classrooms, as well as our frustrations around the difficulty accessing the polls because of things like work, citizenship, culture, and a lack of resonance.


So why still vote? Here's why: 

mai doan is the SAFIRE Organizer at Forward Together.

My Experience at the Responsibility Urban Retreat 2012

by Ratema Uch

A trip for eleven to Washington DC from the Bay Area sounded like a great chance to enact change in policy, make new friends from across the nation, and grow as organizers. And it was.

As the only organizing group representing California, the youth of Forward Together’s CORE program felt the pressure to rep Oakland (and Mac Dre) to the best of our abilities. I can’t say Washington DC greeted us with open arms. We arrived hot and sweaty expecting cold weather, only to get slapped in the face with a wave of heat through the Metro and the fast-pace life of politicians. The first night was not one of great interaction. But as the days wore on, it seemed as though Oakland got more and more popular as youth from Alabama, South Carolina, Colorado, Florida, and even Jamaica began to rave about their hopes of visiting Oakland, CA in the near future.

Best believe Oakland introduced ourselves well with a “Let’s Talk About Sex” song and Shabooyah Roll Call. All it took for us to break out of our shells was being loud and obnoxious in our hotel room later that night, attracting other youth who thought, “This must be where the party’s at,” accompanied with multiple knocks on our door (including two from hotel security).

Between the workshops and evening events throughout the five days, we learned how to become better leaders, connect with social media, and connect with other youth fighting for a comprehensive sex education in their regions. We got advice on life, too. ;)

Lobby day was a bittersweet day. We woke up bright and early, packed up, and suited up in our best professional attire to get ready to speak with representatives of California Senators and Reps like Barbara Boxer, Diane Feinstein, and Babara Lee. We were all pretty nervous, but once our first meeting was over, we were feeling pretty good about ourselves. We were lucky to meet with people who already support the need for comprehensive sex ed in CA, but they also took notice of our stories about our lives in Oakland. It just felt SO GOOD to know that support us and were impressed with the Sex Ed the City campaign. Makes you feel like you’re really making a difference in policy. I mean, shit, we were making a name for ourselves at Capitol Hill! If that ain’t making change, I don’t know what is. But then again, it was the last day and I was sad to leave. :’(

Overall, UR2012 was a great experience. I met so many people that I will miss dearly and I just felt so comfortable with everyone because everyone was comfortable with their sexuality and selves, (which made Sunday’s dance and talent show the best).

Pretty sure we repped Oakland hella hard. MEEP.

Straddling the both / and experience

by Shanelle Matthews

Image: Kortney Ryan Ziegler, Forward Together

My work never really feels like work because it is so inherently intertwined with the way I move through the world. I communicate and create visibility for reproductive justice because my experiences as a queer woman of color, means that I don’t get to separate my race and socio-economic status from my reproductive health choices. I am both a person of color AND a woman. I am both queer AND working class. I am always both/and without having the luxury of disregarding my multiple realities, which I don’t want to nor should I be forced to.

As I left work last Friday, I didn’t leave behind my worried thoughts about whether or not Governor Brown would finally stop the shackling of pregnant women or grant domestic workers their human right to sick days and earning living wages. Whether sitting at my desk, at home or somewhere else, I am always conscious of the compromises that those of us with multiple realities have to make. We either get to keep our families together or we get healthcare. We choose between safe arrangements for our children with the risk of deportation or we are collectively uprooted from the place that we call home. Even though we live our lives straddling the both/and experience, our choices very rarely reflect it.

When I got the email Friday night that Governor Brown passed AB2530, the anti-shackling bill, which supports pregnant women in California’s prisons, I celebrated. After all, wins are so few and far between for us that it would be almost boorish to not at least share a toast or do a happy dance. And because for three years my colleagues have busted their asses to sustain basic human rights for pregnant women – an avoidable fight that we should not have had to spend any time or resources fighting. When I heard that Governor Brown signed AB2015, a bill that will make it possible for parents who are detained by the police to make safe arrangements for their children, I grinned ear-to-ear with excitement of the good news. Although my cynicism and distrust of the legislative process remains intact, these wins are smaller pieces of a very large, muddled puzzle that we are fighting both through policy change and efforts on the ground. But for the moment I smiled and shared the news with those around me, thankful for some glimmer of goodness.

Staying away from my computer for the weekend I came in to work Monday to find out that Governor Brown had vetoed both the Domestic Workers Bill of Rights bill and the Trust Act. I found myself, and the people around me, once again straddling the arduous both / and line. Happy that we had some wins and devastated, too.

We know that the same communities who will continue to live without healthcare are also under the constant threat of deportation. The same person who risks unwarranted deportation also isn’t receiving healthcare. The same person who is fighting for a living wage, also risks finding themselves in need of safe arrangements for their children should they be detained. What Governor Brown and policy makers nationwide fail to realize is that we are not monolithic in our needs. Passing a couple of bills won’t pacify us. We deserve asylum, healthcare, living wages, humane treatment, sick days and to be treated with respect and dignity – all of our basic human rights. Our families are strongest when we can be accepted as both / and.

Martin Luther King told us “an injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” This is especially true for those us who are fighting to be our whole selves in this country. As we celebrate the victories and mourn the losses of the weekend, we urge Governor Brown to consider that denying domestic workers their rights threatens all of our rights. We hope that you’ll join us in telling the Governor that he can’t sacrifice some for the betterment of others. We are all deserving of the rights, recognition and resources we need to be our best selves and for our families to thrive.

Send Governor Brown this tweet: @JerrybrownGov We deserve all of our human rights! Reconsider the Domestic Workers BOR & Trust Act. #strongfams


Shanelle Matthews is a blogger, new and online media professional and the Communications Manager at Forward Together. Follow her on Twitter at @freedom_writer