The Action Alliance Affirms the “Moment of Truth” Statement of Commitment to Black Lives

The Virginia Sexual and Domestic Violence Action Alliance, along with 44 other coalitions, has proudly signed on to the national Moment of Truth: Statement of Commitment to Black Lives. The full statement and list of signatories are included below.

Moment of Truth: Statement of Commitment to Black Lives

This is a moment of reckoning. The murder of George Floyd broke the collective heart of this country, and now, finally, millions of people are saying their names: George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, Ahmaud Arbery – an endless list of Black Lives stolen at the hands and knees of police. The legacies of slavery and unfulfilled civil rights, colonialism and erasure, hatred and violence, have always been in full view. Turning away is no longer an option. Superficial reform is not enough.

We, the undersigned sexual assault and domestic violence state coalitions​ call ourselves to account for the ways in which this movement, and particularly the white leadership within this movement, has repeatedly failed Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) survivors, leaders, organizations, and movements:

  • We have failed to listen to Black feminist liberationists and other colleagues of color in the movement who cautioned us against the consequences of choosing increased policing, prosecution, and imprisonment as the primary solution to gender-based violence.

  • We have promoted false solutions of reforming systems that are designed to control people, rather than real community-based solutions that support healing and liberation.

  • We have invested significantly in the criminal legal system, despite knowing that the vast majority of survivors choose not to engage with it and that those who do are often re-traumatized by it.

  • We have held up calls for “victim safety” to justify imprisonment and ignored the fact that prisons hold some of the densest per-capita populations of trauma survivors in the world.

  • We have ignored and dismissed transformative justice approaches to healing, accountability, and repair, approaches created by BIPOC leaders and used successfully in BIPOC communities.

We acknowledge BIPOC’s historical trauma and lived experiences of violence and center those traumas and experiences in our commitments to move forward. We affirm that BIPOC communities are not homogeneous and that opinions on what is necessary now vary in both substance and degree. ​We stand with the Black Women leaders in our movement, for whom isolation, risk, and hardship are now particularly acute.  And we are grateful to the Black Women, Indigenous Women, and Women of Color – past and present – who have contributed mightily to our collective body of work, even as it has compromised their own health and well-being.

This moment has long been coming. We must be responsible for the ways in which our movement work directly contradicts our values. We espouse nonviolence, self-determination, freedom for all people and the right to bodily autonomy as we simultaneously contribute to a pro-arrest and oppressive system that is designed to isolate, control, and punish. We promote the ideas of equity and freedom as we ignore and minimize the real risks faced by BIPOC survivors who interact with a policing system that threatens the safety of their families and their very existence. We seek to uproot the core drivers of gender-based violence yet treat colonialism, white supremacy, racism, and transphobia as disconnected or separate from our core work.

A better world is within reach. It is being remembered and imagined in BIPOC communities around the world, and it is calling us to be a part of it.  In this world:

  • all human beings have inherent value, even when they cause harm;

  • people have what they need – adequate and nutritious food, housing, quality education and healthcare, meaningful work, and time with family and friends; and

  • all sentient beings are connected, including Mother Earth.

It is time to transform not only oppressive institutions, but also ourselves. Divestment and reallocation must be accompanied by rigorous commitment to and participation in the community solutions and supports that are being recommended by multiple organizations
and platforms.

We are listening to and centering BIPOC-led groups, organizations, and communities. We join their vision of liberation and support
the following:

The undersigned coalitions agree that the above actions are both aspirational and essential. While timing and strategy may differ across communities, states, and sovereign nations, we commit to supporting and partnering with BIPOC leaders and organizations. We commit to standing in solidarity with sovereignty, land and water protection, and human rights. And we say resoundingly and unequivocally: BLACK LIVES MATTER!

The Coronavirus pandemic, unchecked and increased police violence, political and economic upheaval, and stay-at-home isolation have produced the “perfect storm.”  We have a choice to make: run from the storm or into it. We choose to run into it and through it. We choose to come out the other side better, whole, loving, just, and more human. We have spent decades building our movement’s voice and power. How we use them now will define us in the years ahead. Let our actions show that we did not stand idly by. Let them show that we learned, changed, and will continue to demonstrate that Black Lives Matter is a centering practice for our work.

Affirmed by:

Alabama Coalition Against Rape
Alaska Network on Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault
Arkansas Coalition Against Sexual Assault
California Coalition Against Sexual Assault
California Partnership to End Domestic Violence
CAWS North Dakota
Colorado Coalition Against Sexual Assault
End Domestic Abuse Wisconsin
Florida Council Against Sexual Violence
Georgia Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Georgia Network to End Sexual Assault
Idaho Coalition Against Sexual & Domestic Violence
Illinois Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Indiana Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Iowa Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Iowa Coalition Against Sexual Assault
Jane Doe Inc. (Massachusetts Coalition Against Sexual and Domestic Violence)
Kentucky Association of Sexual Assault Programs, Inc.
Kentucky Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Maine Coalition Against Sexual Assault
Maine Coalition to End Domestic Violence
Maryland Network Against Domestic Violence
Mississippi Coalition Against Sexual Assault
Montana Coalition Against Domestic and Sexual Violence
Nebraska Coalition to End Sexual and Domestic Violence
Nevada Coalition to End Domestic and Sexual Violence
New Jersey Coalition Against Sexual Assault
New Jersey Coalition to End Domestic Violence
New Mexico Coalition of Sexual Assault Programs, Inc.
New York State Coalition Against Domestic Violence
New York State Coalition Against Sexual Assault
North Carolina Coalition Against Domestic Violence
North Carolina Coalition Against Sexual Assault
Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence
Ohio Domestic Violence Network
Pennsylvania Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Pennsylvania Coalition Against Rape
Tennessee Coalition to End Domestic and Sexual Violence
Utah Coalition Against Sexual Assault
Vermont Network Against Domestic and Sexual Violence
Violence Free Colorado
Virginia Sexual & Domestic Violence Action Alliance 
Washington Coalition of Sexual Assault Programs
Washington State Coalition Against Domestic Violence
West Virginia Coalition Against Domestic Violence
Wisconsin Coalition Against Sexual Assault

moment of truth

Action Alliance Statement on Police Brutality and Working for Racial Justice

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Action Alliance Statement on Police Brutality and Working for Racial Justice 

The Action Alliance explicitly denounces the senseless and unjust murders of Black people at the hands of law enforcement, as well as the continued threats against their lives and well-being for simply existing in this nation. Pain, sadness, anger, frustration, exhaustion, and fear are only a few of the words to describe the heaviness that sits on our hearts as we continue to learn of more Black lives being stolen by police brutality, including Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade, George Floydall those who came before, and all those who may come after. 

As advocates for survivors of sexual and domestic violence, we know too well the tactics of oppression used by people to control and abuse partners and family members and see those same tactics replicated time and again by the police to control and abuse neighborhoods where Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) reside. These tactics include intimidation, physical and sexual violence, and gaslighting through minimizing, denying, and victim-blaming. 

Racism and white supremacy have been used for centuries to reinforce sexual and domestic violence; therefore, work to achieve racial justice is inextricably linked to the work to eradicate sexual and domestic violence. The Action Alliance commits to centering racial, reproductive, and economic justice in our efforts to achieve gender justice. This requires us to educate ourselves and others about the real-life impacts that violence has on BIPOC communities. It requires that we continue to learn how white supremacy and white complacency perpetuates, upholds, and reinforces that violence. It asks us to speak up and speak out when we see these systems at work in our families, workplaces, government, places of worship, community spaces, neighborhoods, and selves. It requires deliberate, intentional, and constant action. 

When we center racial justice — when we create systems that provide shelter, food, mental and physical healthcare, livable wages, and educational access to BIPOC communities — we all are more likely to flourish. The ability for BIPOC families and communities to thrive is intrinsically tied to thriving for all of us.  

Now is a time to lean into the discomfort of acknowledging the ways that white supremacy and racial inequalities have created opportunities for many, even in our own field of work, and placed barriers in front of others. In this moment, we are called to re-examine the ways in which we contribute to injustice, including our movement’s investment in systems of policing and incarceration which often increase violence and trauma, rather than reduce it.  

Black lives are beautiful and sacred. Black lives unequivocally matter. As a coalition, we must acknowledge our complicity in upholding violent systemssystems that refuse to see the beauty and sacredness of Black livesand do the work necessary to repair.  

We call in Virginia’s Sexual & Domestic Violence Agencies to join usWe call in our fellow advocates to account for the ways in which our movement has failed BIPOC survivors and to organize in the service of listening to and meeting the needs of BIPOC survivors and communities. We call in our fellow advocates to ensure that survivors have access to voting and to BIPOC-led resources in their communities.  

We ask all who support the idea of racial justice to help make it a reality by: 

  • Supporting BIPOC-led organizers and organizations working for justice and liberation like Southerners on New GroundSisterSong, and Black Lives Matter; 
  • Supporting efforts to ensure full participation in our democratic processes, like New Virginia Majority; 
  • Assisting with voter registration efforts and advocating for full access to absentee ballots so people may vote without fear of becoming sick; and 
  • Continuing to learn and teach others about the fight for racial justice in this country. 

We recommit to amplifying and centering Black voices as well as other marginalized communities. We recommit to deconstructing the many ways in which we uphold and embolden white supremacist ideology, and actively working to dismantle them. The voices of Black and brown people will be silenced no more. We will amplify and center those voices in all we do and all we are. We encourage you to lean into the discomfort with usWe choose to do the work of racial justice every day. We will hold each other up as we do this work together. Change must come swiftly, and just like peace, change begins at home.  

We Need More Than Words

Book cover with blue skies and white mountains, with words "Something needs to change."With the recent assassinations of Black people at the hands of the police and racists in this country, there have been calls for solidarity and the need for allyship. The assumption is that we are only asking for well-meaning White folks to do more, learn more, and be more active in fighting white supremacy and racism. While this is true, we need more than fight. We need change. We need to be able to be seen as whole free people feeling real emotions inside of a country that was created by white supremacy with the intention of having control over our bodies in life and death. We need to be who we are unapologetically. We need to be represented in spaces that have historically been occupied and controlled by White people and not have our experiences ignored or silenced.

We need change. We need to be able to be seen as whole free people feeling real emotions inside of a country that was created by white supremacy with the intention of having control over our bodies in life and death.

Black people and people of color have not been extended the privileges to enter those spaces and have people acknowledge what is happening to them in this county. We often have to fix our faces, tones of voice, and emotions to get the job done and proceed as if all is well because when we do speak up and out they are seen as trouble makers and then again we are silenced. We want to be able to be angry about how we are consistently impacted by all the racism and frequent microaggressions in our workspaces and the communities we live in. We want to openly mourn seeing the people that look like us killed either by the disproportionate negative impacts that this society has created or by the police that are supposed to “protect” us. We want to be seen in movements that have historically and presently continue to erase our presence and foundational contributions.

In this field of gender violence we collectively have fought for people to have autonomy over their bodies and the end to interpersonal violence. Yet, when it comes to the disproportionate impact on Black and Brown bodies, we have become invisible. We have just now in recent years inside of the mainstream spaces of this movement been bold enough to point out these impacts in words but in actions little has changed. We talk about being here for everyone, but the painful truth is that we are not. This movement has been hypocritical in its actions.

We have just now in recent years inside of the mainstream spaces of this movement been bold enough to point out these impacts in words but in actions little has changed.

The call for allyship is nice and needed but what we really need is for your actions to speak louder than the memes, retweets, shares, and repeating the words of Black people and people of color. We need change in our environments that push us out when we speak up. We need real dialogue that includes us in the “hard” conversations about race. We need you to do more than read books about privilege. We need you to look inside and think about the many ways that your non-action in speaking up about state violence and committing forms of it in the spaces that you frequent are also violent. Yes, we need you to learn AND we need you to change.

One person's hands holding another's hand in support.

To the survivors and advocates that are Black and people of color, we see you, you are whole and are loved.


Cortney Calixte is the Movement and Capacity-Building Director at the Action Alliance. Her main focuses are underserved populations, social justice movements and their intersections with advocacy.

Solidarity Calls for More than Outrage on Social Media

Despite her claims otherwise, Amy Cooper knew exactly what she was doing when she called 911 to make a false report that Chris Cooper was threatening her in New York City’s Central Park.

“I’m going to tell them there’s an African American man threatening my life,” she sneers, pulling down her face mask and dragging her dog by its collar. “Please call the cops,” Chris Cooper calmly responds.

Whether Amy Cooper acknowledges it or not, growing up as a white person in the U.S., she has been saturated with toxic messages of the supremacy of whiteness since birth. We all have. She leveraged her whiteness to weaponize the police against Chris Cooper, an avid birdwatcher, a Black man who had asked her to leash her dog in an area where it was illegal to have one’s dog off-leash. She knew—she intuited—that a white woman calling the cops to lie about a Black man threatening her would bring a swift, unquestioning response in her favor. She knew that by saying, “I’m going to tell them there’s an African-American man threatening my life,” she was in fact making a threat against Chris Cooper’s life.

Police have a long and horrifying record of using deadly force against Black people. On the same day that Amy Cooper was lying to 911, Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin (who had 12 prior complaints against him in a 19-year career on the force with zero disciplinary action) was murdering 46-year old George Floyd by kneeling on his neck as he gasped for air on the concrete, pleading, “I can’t breathe.” George Floyd was described by friends and family as a “gentle giant” who worked security for a bistro, and was “loved by all employees and customers.” He had moved from Houston to Minneapolis to “be his best self,” one friend said.

Equality, Justice, Love, and Peace

It’s easy for us as white folks to vilify the Amy Coopers of the world—entitled white women who police and report the activities of innocent Black people—thereby endangering their lives. Going all the way back to the murder of Emmett Till and way before that, false reports by white women have resulted in Black people being murdered.

And yes, Amy Cooper’s actions are certainly worthy of critique. But by saying to ourselves and others, “I’m not like her,” we miss the chance to examine our own internalized white supremacy and how it operates in our minds, families, offices, and communities (see illustration below).

supremacy iceberg

The white supremacy iceberg illustrates the connections between overt (socially unacceptable) and covert (often socially acceptable) forms of white supremacy.


If we want to be allies to our Black colleagues, family, friends, neighbors, and clients, it’s critical for us white people to understand that—like all oppressions—racist behaviors exist on a continuum. The actions of Amy Cooper and Derek Chauvin exist on that continuum; there is a direct line from Amy Cooper’s weaponizing race for summoning the police to police officer Derek Chauvin using lethal force against a man who was posing no physical threat.

Hand holding sign saying "End Hate"Similarly, there is a direct line from microaggressions we may inflict on Black people to Amy Cooper knowing that she could lie to police with impunity and quite possibly endanger an innocent man’s life in the process. All of these behaviors support the omnipresent and toxic falsehood in our culture that Black people are “less than”.

 

Racist actions on this continuum have different impacts, yet all are harmful to the psyche and bodies of our fellow human beings. From microaggressions to murder, racist actions prop up the structural inequalities (the written and unwritten policies and practices) that ensure white people—on the whole—have access to more chances, more resources, greater safety, and more justice than anyone who is not considered “white.”

So, what to do, dear fellow white people? Paralysis and guilt may be understandable reactions to the onslaught of news about the excessive toll taken on Black bodies-whether it’s by police brutality or COVID-19, where the mortality rate for Black Americans is almost two and half time higher than for whites. But paralysis and guilt do nothing to save lives.

There is no dearth of information on how white people can help make change happen. Here is a list of 75 actions that white people can do to help support racial justice. Here is a list of anti-racism resources, including podcasts, reading and video lists, and other resources for white folks to learn more about racist oppression and the beauty of Blackness without putting the burden of our education on Black people (after all, it is not the responsibility of Black people to educate us on racism).

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Do what you can where you are. Talk to your kids and family about white supremacy and racism, how to spot them, and how to talk with their own friends about them. Contribute time and money to organizations led by people of color that work toward liberation, like Southerners on New Ground and Black Lives Matter. Give to the Legal Aid Justice Center and the New Virginia Majority, two organizations in Virginia that fight for racial justice and democracy.

If you are an advocate for survivors of violence, commit to your own education about how racism impacts survivors of color*, learn how to engage in systems advocacy in your own community by following the lead of organizations that have people of color at the helm*, and talk with schools in your community about simple steps you can take to dismantle the trauma-to-prison pipeline*.

How Justice Movements Connect-FINALWorking for gender justice and a world without gendered violence means that we must simultaneously work toward racial justice and a world without racist violence. If you’d like to learn more about how the work to create gender justice intersects with work to end other oppressions, download these Action Alliance infographics here: “How Justice Movements Connect” and “How Oppressive Systems Connect”.

 

 

 

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If you’d like to learn more about how the Action Alliance is currently working to build gender justice, racial justice, economic justice, and reproductive justice, download our Vision, Values, and Strategies document.

If there is one thing that the Coronavirus global pandemic has taught is, it is that we are all connected. As white people, it is up to us to honor that sacred responsibility and do our part to bring about change so that all human beings may thrive. White folks living today may not be responsible for building this country’s labyrinth of white supremacy but our silence in the face of white supremacist actions today and moving forward makes us complicit. We are responsible for actively fighting for white supremacy’s destruction. As the ancestors of future generations, we have the resourcefulness and tenacity to build a brighter future for ourselves and for our future descendants.


Kate McCord (she/they) is an Associate Director for the Action Alliance and has been active in integrating a racial justice lens into Virginia’s movement for gender justice for over 20 years.

*The Action Alliance has training curricula on these topics and/or can create “trainings-on-request” for these topics.


Source of featured image: bbc.com

Source of white supremacy iceberg: https://www.facebook.com/rtrlo/photos/a.2323769810997875/3975957802445726/?type=1&theater

White supremacy iceberg image attributions, as listed in its source post: Safehouse Progressive Alliance for Nonviolence (2005). Adapted: Ellen Tuzzolo (2016); Mary Julia Cooksey Cordero (@jewelspewels) (2019); The Conscious Kid (2020).

Spotlighting Agencies Supporting Asian American Survivors

This May as part of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, the Action Alliance highlights the work of two member agencies offering culturally specific support to Asian and Asian American survivors.  While survivors in Asian communities face some of the same struggles as non-Asian survivors, they also have unique considerations related to cultural norms, language access, and immigration status.

Learn more about Boat People SOS and the Korean Community Services Center of Greater Washington below.

BOAT PEOPLE SOS

1.      Tell us a little about your organization.

Boat People SOS, Inc. (BPSOS) is a national community-based organization with 40 years of experience servicing the Vietnamese American community. Founded in 1980, BPSOS’ mission is to “empower, organize and equip Vietnamese refugees and immigrants in their pursuit of liberty and dignity.” Our population has been predominantly Vietnamese refugees and immigrants, most of whom have a long history of trauma, and often are survivors of domestic violence. During the past 40 years, our national network of branch offices has directly assisted over 120,000 Vietnamese residing in Vietnam, on the high seas as boat people, in refugee camps, and after resettlement to the United States. Our long and successful track record of service to this vulnerable population has elevated our trustworthiness and credibility as an organization with cultural competence and subject matter expertise to serve this population. BPSOS is the only Vietnamese American national organization with a physical presence in six locations in the U.S. and one office in Thailand with a total of 65 staff members and a network totaling hundreds of dedicated volunteers.

Group of about 30 people facing a speaker during a workshop presentation.
Boat People SOS Hosts a Workshop

2.      How do you see the needs of Asian survivors differing from other survivors?

Domestic violence has long been prevalent in the Vietnamese community. The high incidence of domestic violence is compounded by significant barriers faced by survivors when accessing mainstream domestic violence services, including limited English competency, cultural tolerance for abusive behavior and general fear of seeking assistance outside the family network. In the Vietnamese culture, despite the fact that they are the survivors, women are often blamed by their own families for the abuse they suffer. Among many traditional families, abuse by their husbands is viewed as an indication of the woman’s bad character, which brings shame to the entire family. This traditional belief often translates to cultural tolerance for violence against women. For many of the survivors we serve, a lack of understanding of U.S. laws is common and exacerbates the barriers detailed above. For example, survivors who are recent immigrants are generally unaware of their rights under the U.S. legal system, such as their right to self-petition for legal permanent residence under the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA). Moreover, they often fear detention and deportation, especially those who derive their immigration status from their abusive spouses, and this fear often deters these women from seeking assistance and legal recourse. Most survivors don’t have any family members or relatives in the US to help and explain to them what they need to do if they’re physically, sexually, or financially abused. Vietnamese survivors really need case management to explain safety, shelters, protection orders, or separation and divorce. Without devoted and fast supports, survivors may die, commit suicide or get traumatized.

3.      What, if anything, do you want the broader anti-violence community to know or understand about the work you do?

We would want the broader anti-violence community to know and understand that our ultimate goal is to end the cycle of domestic violence among Vietnamese families and to empower and equip survivors to lead self-sufficient, stable, and independent lives for themselves and for their dependents. Our services are very culturally-specific, trauma-informed, free of charge, and strictly voluntary, while protecting confidentiality of client information. Our Communities Against Domestic Violence (CADV) project, started 22 years ago, focused originally on raising community awareness about domestic violence. As a growing number of survivors requested direct services, we gradually built capacity, through long-term case management, to meet the diverse needs of victims, including legal assistance, transitional housing, job placement, financial education, counseling, and social services. With the support of BPSOS’ leadership, in 2012 the CADV management team decided to expand this program to all 6 BPSOS branches nationwide. To date, the CADV Program has assisted over 1,200 Vietnamese and other Asian American survivors of domestic violence across the nation in accessing needed legal and social service assistance. Additionally, over 100 domestic service and legal assistance providers have received our cultural competency trainings.

 4.      How has the COVID pandemic impacted the people you serve?

Since March 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic has extremely impacted the people we serve.  Our partner, Just Neighbors, could not meet with new DV victims to do intake, and therefore, they could not help our clients to apply for two-year or ten-year green cards. Some ten-year green card applications have been pending and delayed for submission to USCIS because of this pandemic. Many victims lost their jobs, their health insurance, and hopes to solve their family issues. They have been so depressed, stressed, and worried about their green cards that will expire soon in 2020. One of our female survivor’s son of 20 years old could not fly to the US from Vietnam in March 2020 to reunite with his mother who left Vietnam seven years ago to the US (to live with her abusive husband). We have tried our best to assist people as much as we can during this difficult time.

 5.      What statewide policy change(s) would be most beneficial to helping survivors you support?

Survivors always need financial assistance to pay for rent if they need to move out to live separately from their spouses. If the state can allocate some funds to assist survivors with this need, that would be great. We usually just provide any assistance they need (interpretation, translation, referrals, legal, shelter, safety plan, etc.) but we are unable to provide financial assistance which is very important for survivors to quickly move away from the abusers who always curse victims/survivors with threatening words and violent actions.

 6.      What can people do to support your organization and work?

 People can support our organization and work with different ways: (1) Donate or invest in our program; (2) Volunteer to assist our community; (3) Stay informed and spread the word to others. Together, we can advocate successfully for victims and survivors in any fields so that they can rebuild their life with dignity and liberty.

KOREAN COMMUNITY SERVICES CENTER OF GREATER WASHINGTON

1.      Tell us a little about your organization.

KCSC is a one-stop shop non-profit providing social services for the Asian American community. It brings a multidisciplinary approach to Asian Americans and new immigrants through social service, education, advocacy, and development of resources. The Victim Services program aims to provide culturally and linguistically appropriate services in coordination with prevention educators, transitional housing assistants, advocates, and community engagement staff.

2.      How do you see the needs of Asian survivors differing from other survivors?

While domestic violence survivors’ basic needs are similar, what’s particular to Asian survivors are the culturally deep-rooted idea of family unity and the responsibility of holding the family or providing the children an intact family. Asian survivors are deeply related to family-centered and patriarchal cultural values. This sometimes makes it hard to decide the options that they need.  In addition, they don’t know where and how they can get practical help or useful resources because of barriers, such as instability of their legal status, lack of command of English, and lack of connections. Sometimes survivors feel more isolated and depressed without support systems where they can reach out for help when they don’t feel safe at home.

kcscgw-cfc-awareness-event-with-apanet-in-partnership-with-patents-business-units

Tabling to Raise Awareness of KCSC’s Services

3.      What, if anything, do you want the broader anti-violence community to know or understand about the work you do?

KCSC not only provides case management to clients, but also reaches out to other community members to provide DV seminars regarding Asian culture and how to help immigrants survivors from different cultures. We are willing to get connected with other relevant agencies providing similar services and have cross-training, if possible. 

4.      How has the COVID pandemic impacted the people you serve?

The pandemic has impacted clients in many different ways. Many clients’ employment stability was negatively impacted, which spiked the needs for social services and financial assistance. In order to prevent sexual violence and dating violence, close cooperation and engagements with the local community are very important. This type of the education session is more efficient in the setting of in-person gatherings. However, due to COVID-19, it is challenging to do outreach.

5.      What statewide policy change(s) would be most beneficial to helping survivors you support?

Language assistance in the legal system: Clients need equal access to legal services and remedies. For example, adequate communication in any aspect of accessing the legal system from finding an attorney, understanding options, filling out forms, and simply navigating the courthouse.

Immigration status: A good number of my clients depend on their abusive spouses for their immigration status, thus VAWA Self-petition is a pivotal grounding for those clients. Continue to advocate to expedite the VAWA application process.

Housing: Protecting renters’ and homeowners’ rights, especially during COVID-19 would be beneficial to helping survivors have a continuously secure and safe place (See National Housing Law Project).  

6.      What can people do to support your organization and work?

(1) Have the curiosity and be open-minded to the domestic violence issues in the community. Raise awareness and have open conversations about domestic violence in Asian communities. (2) Share information about KCSC through your social media and other connections. (3) Volunteer your time with KCSC. (4) Donate to KCSC.

Interested in learning more about gender-based violence in Asian and Pacific Islander communities? Find resources and reports from the Asian Pacific Institute on Gender-Based Violence. API-GBV has COVID-19 In-Language Resources and Resources for Survivors and Service Providers during COVID-19.

Refusing Invisibility in the Anti-Violence Movement: A Reflection on Holding Multiple Identities as a Survivor and Advocate

For some strange reason I thought in a place where advocates against violence were virtually meeting, there would be a pause and acknowledgment of what is happening in our country to Black people.

I thought that they would take a moment to say not only was the release of Title IX Final Rule document hurtful because of the document itself and the poor choice and timing amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, also known as the novel coronavirus, but also because it was released during the week where many Americans watched an innocent young Black man senselessly gunned down by two white men while he was jogging in his own neighborhood.

I thought that there would be a mention of his name, Ahmaud Arbery, a mention of the correlation between sexual violence and racial violence because violence is a form of oppression.  While both issues are valid on their own, there are intersections. When will the sexual and domestic violence movement make the shift to doing this work of advocacy, prevention, and response with a racial justice lens?

Headshot of Fatima Smith in white blouse and navy suit jacket.

Fatima M. Smith

I am a survivor who is also a mother, unapologetically Black, and identifies as a woman whose passion and work are dedicated to ending sexual and intimate partner violence. Yet I continue to feel like my identities are not valued.

The conversation during the town hall was a familiar one that is often had in sexual and intimate partner violence survivor advocacy circles, where the focus is on women.

I found myself struggling to stay focused because I kept thinking about what about those students who identify within the LGBTQ+ community, what about those Black and Brown students, what are the implications for them?

As I told my brain to focus on the meeting speakers, the answers to the aforementioned questions from the speakers was as if all survivors were made equal, but really we’re not.

We’re more than just the acts that are committed against us. We have beautiful pieces of us that make up the whole and I can’t get on board with entities that are going to continue to work in the silo of “only women are sexually assaulted” which is code for “only white middle class college women are sexually assaulted”.

As I tried to move past these feelings, I couldn’t help but think about those trans students who will be misgendered intentionally or unintentionally by respondents’ advisors during cross-examination, or the pressure to have to come out to avoid being misgendered by a respondent’s advisor.

I’m just trying to figure out when do we have discussions about dynamics of power when it comes to sexual assault when the assault occurs between different races and ethnicities? What does it look like to be a Black student who is assaulted by a white student and then to have to not only face one’s perpetrator but also potentially have to be interrogated (or as they like to say “cross-examined”) by a white individual?

The consideration of racial fatigue and that question of trauma-informed care isn’t being discussed on a deeper level because we’re just talking about survivors as a homogeneous entity. But it’s not. We are not.

Fatima Smith stands at a podium testifying before a group of legislators with Senator Jennifer McClellan standing beside her.

Fatima M. Smith testifies before the Virginia General Assembly during the 2020 session.


Fatima M. Smith is a survivor, relentless advocate and founder of FMS Speaks, LLC. She established FMS Speaks as a way to share her passion for anti-violence work, racial justice, and engage folks in dialogue that ignites action for progress. Fatima serves as a member of the Action Alliance’s Governing Body. 

A Brief Reflection on the Intersections between Race, HIV, Sexual Orientation, and Gender Identity

As a Black and gay male, I understand the urgency of addressing the HIV epidemic that affects me and others within our community. National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day, February 7, is a time set aside for us within the Black community to increase HIV education, testing, community involvement, and treatment in an effort to end the HIV epidemic. It is also important to take time to acknowledge distinct barriers to prevention and care that impede efforts ending the HIV epidemic. One such barrier is the unique experience of LGBTQ people in regard to the intersection of HIV/AIDS and domestic abuse.

Power and control wheel

“LGBTQ Relationship Violence” From the National Domestic Violence Hotline

In his article, Just*in Time: HIV & LGBTQ Domestic Violence, Justin B. Terry-Smith voices the struggles of the intersection of HIV/AIDS and domestic abuse. He details a few tactics of abusers: using HIV guilt as a weapon, taking away or controlling access to HIV medication – this control over medication can be for PrEP, nPEP[1], or antiretroviral HIV medications – controlling access to money and other resources, using social media to manipulate and threaten, and creating or magnifying stress and trauma. All of these tactics can make a person’s HIV diagnosis more dangerous for their health. An abuser’s ability to victim-blame, isolate and control by using social media, and regulating HIV medication is amplified for LGBTQ Blacks and African Americans, who at the same time are experiencing racial disparities within the healthcare and domestic violence services systems. Additionally, resources for LGBTQ people are already limited, and an abuser isolating an LGBTQ partner can be especially detrimental for health outcomes.

According to the United States Census Bureau, we lack equity in economics, insurance coverage, and health.

  • Economics: In 2017, the Census Bureau reported the average Black median household income to be $40,165 in comparison to $65,845 for white households. Also in 2017, the Census Bureau reported that 22.9 percent of Blacks in comparison to 9.6 percent of whites were living at the poverty level. Further, in 2017, the unemployment rate for Blacks was found to be twice that of non-Hispanic whites, 9.5 percent and 4.2 percent, respectively.
  • Insurance Coverage: In 2017, the Census Bureau reported 55.5 percent of Blacks in comparison to 75.4 percent of whites used private health insurance. Also in 2017, 43.9 percent of Blacks in comparison to 33.7 percent of whites relied on Medicaid or public health insurance. Lastly, 9.9 percent of Blacks in comparison to 5.9 percent of whites were uninsured.
  • Health: According to Census Bureau projections, the 2015 life expectancies at birth for Blacks is 76.1 years, with 78.9 years for women, and 72.9 years for men. For whites the projected life expectancies is 79.8 years, with 82.0 years for women, and 77.5 years for men. The death rate for African Americans is generally higher than whites for the following: heart diseases, stroke, cancer, asthma, influenza and pneumonia, diabetes, HIV/AIDS, and homicide.

“never reported, contracted HIV.” — Gay male, 29, Charlottesville*

The National Domestic Violence Hotline goes even further into the unique mental and physical tactics LGBTQ abusers use to gain power and control, detailing that LGBTQ tactics to gain control are all rooted in homophobia, biphobia, heterosexism, and transphobia. Threatening to “out” a survivor’s sexual orientation or gender identity, denying the survivor’s sexual orientation or gender identity, suggesting the abuse is “deserved” because of the survivor’s sexual orientation or gender identity, and explaining away abuse by upholding the abuse as masculine or some other desirable trait. These mental tactics all serve to isolate the survivor from the LGBTQ community. This is especially damaging for LGBTQ people since there are fewer specific resources for LGBTQ people. Similarly, these tactics can be combined with racism to compound the isolation and damage experienced by the person being abused.

It was a friend. The first gay person I ever knew. I really was reaching out for the first time trying to find a mentor. He was older and I wanted to learn what it was like to be gay in my rural community … but then this [violence] happened.” — Gay queer male, 23, Richmond*

As Black and African American LGBTQ people, we are tasked with managing our health, regardless of HIV status, finding ways to navigate institutions that were not designed with us in mind, stigma that is associated with HIV/AIDS and domestic abuse, and various other societal pressures without much structural or institutional support.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal; it felt normal or not what I thought “domestic violence” was;” –Bisexual female, 20, Richmond*

It is also important to acknowledge and understand the power we have as individuals and as a community to combat stigma accompanying HIV/AIDS and domestic abuse and bring change to existing institutions. Reducing stigma by acknowledging anyone – regardless of gender – can be in an abusive relationship, and that domestic abuse is more than physical abuse; domestic abuse can also be mental abuse and emotional abuse. Stigma reduction also helps in disregarding victim-blaming narratives linked with HIV/AIDS and domestic abuse, respectively. Educating ourselves to understand the circumstances that would lead to a HIV diagnosis or to someone being with an abuser, likewise, helps reduce victim-blaming. For example, understanding that prevention measures such as nPEP and PrEP may not be available due to lack of accessible healthcare options, or unable to access because a person’s abuser is controlling their lives, are two examples of how reducing stigma also reduces victim-blaming.

I believe we as a nation will reach equity in regard to race, gender identity and expression, and sexuality. True equity would mean no one would be able to determine a person’s health outcomes based on their race, gender identity and expression, and/or sexuality. We can and do have the power to combat HIV/AIDS and domestic abuse in all of our communities, across race, LGBTQ identities, and other dimensions.

“I really believe that LGBTQ hate crimes, domestic violence, discrimination and bias are still quite a problem in our time. Since I was involved in a support group for LGBTQ folks (Dignity/Integrity Richmond, now defunct, from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s) I became aware of these issues, particularly LGBTQ domestic violence. All of these issues were occurring then and I am quite sure they continue to occur today. For the most part I think LGBTQ folks are aware of these issues but for the most part I think LGBTQ folks, for whatever their reasons, don’t report them or try to deal with them on their own. This is the reason, I think for surveys like this one and I think it’s a good thing.” — Gay male, 51, Henrico*

You can reach the Virginia Disease Prevention Hotline (Monday-Friday, 8am-5pm) at 1-800-533-4148, where counselors answer questions and provide crisis intervention, referrals, and written educational materials regarding Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STDs), HIV/AIDS, and Viral Hepatitis. 

If you or someone you know needs help or resources, contact the LGBTQ partner abuse and sexual assault helpline 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, at 1-866-356-6998. Or, text 804-793-9999 or chat: www.vadata.org/chat

*The quotes in this post come from the Virginia Anti-Violence Project 2008 Survey.

Sources:

The State of Violence in Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Communities of Virginia: A Report of the Equality Virginia Education Fund Anti-Violence Project

National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day

Just*in Time: HIV & LGBTQ Domestic Violence

Income and Poverty in the United States: 2017

The Black Population: 2010

Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2017

Census Bureau, 2018. 2017 American Community Survey 1-Year Estimates

The National Domestic Violence Hotline page on LGBT abuse

[1] Pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP) and non-occupational post-exposure prophylaxis (nPEP) are HIV prevention strategies.  They are medical interventions and public health approaches used to prevent infection. (Learn more about PrEP and nPEP.)


Christian Carr is a Ryland Roane Fellow for the Virginia Department of Health and is currently working alongside Minority Health Consortium to help empower the Richmond, Virginia community.

Action Alliance Statement on Governor Northam’s Veto of Mandatory Minimum Sentencing Bills

The VA Sexual and Domestic Violence Action Alliance applauds Governor Ralph Northam’s decision to veto two bills that passed this year’s General Assembly session that supported mandatory minimum sentencing for particular crimes. One of those bills, House Bill 2042, would have created a 60 day mandatory minimum sentence for a second conviction of assault and battery of a family or household member within a 10 year period. While we applaud legislators’ instincts to take crimes of domestic violence seriously and to seek victim safety, we do not believe that mandatory minimums are a real solution that protects victims of domestic violenceIn fact, mandatory minimums are a costly and simplistic tool that serve to remove judicial discretion and disproportionately impact historically marginalized communities while providing little real safety for victims or true accountability for offenders of domestic violence.

“…mandatory minimums are a costly and simplistic tool that serve to remove judicial discretion and disproportionately impact historically marginalized communities while providing little real safety for victims or true accountability for offenders of domestic violence.”

Loss of judicial discretion in sentencing, that takes all of the facts presented in a particular case into account, is one of the strongest arguments against the use of mandatory minimums. The criminal charge of assault and battery against a family or household member does not necessarily take into account a pattern of ongoing behavior that includes a broad range of crimes and offenses designed to exert power and control over an individual. Many victims do fight back in self-defense. Creating a mandatory minimum sentence can land victims of domestic violence in jail and serve to reinforce the control of the abuser.  Many judges understand this and often craft solutions to hold a victim accountable for committing a crime of assault and battery yet allow for options that recognize the broader circumstances, such as referring a victim, who has committed violence in an act of self-defense, to a domestic violence program.

We believe that working to address and change practices and procedures at the community level – such as effective enforcement of protective orders, appropriate law enforcement response to crimes of domestic violence, appropriate charging and prosecution of crimes, and a coordinated community response to this violence – is the work that recognizes the complexities of domestic violence, understands the impacts of trauma on families, and addresses real community solutions to this devastating issue.

The Virginia Sexual and Domestic Violence Action Alliance opposes mandatory minimum sentences as a strategy to address domestic violence in the Commonwealth. Putting our resources towards real solutions like strengthening coordination of systems, creating trauma-informed, healing-centered communities, providing services to both victims and offenders that help to strengthen families, and removing guns from convicted abusers and respondents in protective order cases are all strategies that bring about real safety for victims.

Trauma is an underground river: On Charlottesville, Healing, and Transformative Justice

TRIGGER WARNING: Charlottesville attack, white supremacist violence, physical harm

…….

…….

Almost two years later, I still think about Charlottesville nearly every day. I hear the sickening thud thud thud thud thud of the car hitting people in rapid succession. I see projectiles in the air that my mind could only register at the time as bricks, not what they actually were: shoes knocked off feet from force of impact. I feel the shock of my body hitting the pavement as I tried to run. I remember the fleeting sense that this was where I was going to die. Trampled.

When I consider the arc of trauma in my life, Charlottesville looms large. Most days, it sits on my right shoulder; a dull ache and stiffness from being injured that day. On better days, it slumbers just beneath the surface. I’m not sure it was the hardest thing I’ve ever survived, but it was one of the most terrifying.

Charlottesville is for me both a shared trauma and a private one. I share the experience with the others who were there, and in a different way with the millions of people whose hearts squeezed tight when they bore witness to the horror through captured images. My love is the only person also there on that day with whom I’ve processed what happened. Only she knows how often those pictures hover in my mind’s eye and make my heart squeeze again.

Trauma is an underground river. It winds through invisible passages below the surface, often snaking quietly. Sometimes, though, it roils.

Two weeks ago, my love and I watched BlackKKlansman together. We knew ahead of time that Spike Lee had inserted footage from Charlottesville at the end of his film to illustrate how little has changed since the 70s. We prepared ourselves. It had been nearly 2 years; I thought I was ready to see the footage again with some detachment. But of course, I wasn’t. As we watched the grey Dodge Charger slam into the crowd, nausea rose up in me. My heart drummed like a hummingbird’s wings as I tried to steady my breath. My heart beats just as fast now as write this.

A similar-looking grey Dodge Charger picks up a student at our son’s high school on a regular basis. I’ve noticed it every Monday and Tuesday at 2:15pm in car line since the beginning of the semester. When its rumbling engine revs, it sickens me a little. The rational part of my brain knows it’s not the same car, but the primal part of my brain, the part designed to keep me alive, does not.

When the movie ended, my love and I rewound BlackKKlansman and watched the drone footage of the attack over and over again, pausing and searching the image for ourselves. Looking from that vantage point—a bird’s eye view—that blur there…was that us? Right there in the middle of the intersection? We must have rewound it at least 5 times, feeling grateful for the two cars that impeded his rampage and saved our lives, and sorrow for those who were caught between us and him.

We didn’t know at the time whether this was a single incident or the beginning of more attacks. We wanted to remain alive for our 3 amazing kids and the others we love, so we didn’t stay at the intersection after it happened. I still feel guilt for leaving the scene of the carnage. I wonder if the guy in the grey Dodge Charger feels his heart heavy with remorse looking back, or if he still feels justified in trying to murder as many of us as possible. I’d like to think that time for reflection has helped change his mind.

My father died a year before Charlottesville. I fell asleep many nights as my brain replayed how I held his hand after he died, my grief crystallizing as his body grew cold and stiff. It’s a memory weighted with gratitude but mostly deep sadness and loss. I wouldn’t try to summon the memory; it would just show up and take a stroll through my mind’s eye and my heart as I tried to drift off. After Charlottesville, my falling-asleep brain switched channels and started replaying Charlottesville over and over instead of my dead father. I felt relieved, in a way, for new images to fall asleep to. I wonder how morbid this would sound if I ever said it out loud.

My love and I recently honeymooned on the Yucatán Peninsula. It was magical. One day, we explored a cenote in the middle of the jungle. A cenote is a sinkhole that exposes groundwater underneath when the limestone rock above collapses. We swam through the underground cave, enveloped by a darkness so deep it felt palpable. It was other-worldly and yet not far from the 10-passenger Eurovan that brought us there. Creatures thrive there that are not meant to survive the light of day.

I wonder if a cenote is an apt metaphor for collective trauma: an interlocking network of unmapped underground rivers revealed only when the weight of the earth on top becomes too much to bear. Then again, maybe it’s a metaphor for grief.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what accountability and repair should look like in the wake of harm. I’m sure many others who live in Virginia have too, ever since the Governor’s yearbook was made public with racist images and the Lt. Governor was reported by two women to have sexually assaulted them. Both are serious harms, rooted in different kinds of interlocking, systemic oppressions. What should happen when harms like these come to light is not an easy question to answer.

I’ve worked in the movement to end gender-based violence since I was a student at Oberlin College. It’s the only profession I’ve ever known. In the 1990s, we fought hard for sexual violence and domestic violence to be taken seriously. Rape is a violation and should be a crime in all circumstances, no matter your relationship with the person who hurt you. If a man beat his wife, he should expect the full force of the community to come knocking at his door. Making something a crime affirmed that it was a serious matter and should be treated seriously. We said, “perpetrators need to be held accountable”, but often what we really were saying was “perpetrators should go to jail.” We began to conflate taking responsibility with punishment. We began to conflate accountability with incarceration.

I know now that we were mistaken.

We knew the criminal legal system could deliver neither accountability for perpetrators nor healing for survivors…or we should have known. Indigenous women and other women of color—in particular our Black sisters in the movement—cautioned us again and again not to choose this path, and we failed to listen.

Accountability is an active process that requires the person who has committed harm to take responsibility, acknowledge the impact, express remorse, and commit never to engage in the harm again. None of those things happen when someone is incarcerated. Incarceration punishes and isolates; it does not help us find our humanity–whether we are the ones on the inside of the bars or the outside. The system wasn’t built to help us heal.

IMG_6597Now, 25 years later, I and others in this work have started to reckon with this legacy: how and why did we manage to turn a movement that once held up liberation as our bright future into a profession that is so invested in and bound up with a system that puts people in cages[i]? How could we think more police, more prisons would bring freedom?

Almost everyone who commits violence has also survived it[ii]. How does it shift our perceptions when we stop thinking of someone as either a perpetrator or a survivor and embrace the complexity that most people who use violence are both/and? How would it change my perception of the driver of the grey Dodge Charger if I learned about the trauma he survived before he drove his car into a crowd of people? Knowing wouldn’t mitigate the harm, but perhaps it would shape a path forward beyond containment and retribution.

We’ve built a prison nation by incarcerating more people than any other country in the world. We treat people of color, poor people, people who are trying to migrate to save their families, and other historically oppressed communities as though they are disposable, and it diminishes our humanity. I often think about how my life would be different if I were seen only as the worst thing I’ve ever done, if I were never given the chance to grow and do better. What if everyone were given grace to fail and learn from it. What if we chose all of us[iii]?

I believe in redemption, change, and forgiveness, and I think and talk about it a lot with my friends and colleagues who strive for what we call a “radically hopeful future”: one in which we all thrive.

img_6595.pngBut if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever really put those beliefs to the test. I may be able to think of the 20-year-old driver of the grey Dodge Charger as a wounded person, but can I also see him as someone capable of redemption? What would Marissa Blair and Marcus Martin, two people who were directly in his path, need from him, if anything, for healing and repair? What about the family of Heather Heyer, who died at the scene? Here we encounter one of the complexities of trauma, healing, and repair: each person’s experience and needs are different.

I recently read a piece written by a man who tried to kill a police officer when he was 17. Twenty years later, he and the officer met at the officer’s request. The man who wrote it is serving a life sentence for attempted murder. He apologized to the officer for the pain he caused him and his family, sobbing from the weight of his guilt and shame. He said the meeting was the best day of his life. I don’t know, but I imagine something lifted in the officer’s heart too. Perhaps the encounter was transformative for both of them.

We can and should ask more from people who commit harm, more than asking them to sit in a cell and live out their punishment. I wonder if we can think more deeply and with more complexity about justice, accountability, and healing in the aftermath of harm. Something beyond punishment and retribution. Something that strives to maintain the humanity and compassion that we’re all capable of giving and worthy of receiving. Something that could transform us collectively.

I wonder if we could truly stop seeing anyone as disposable, and begin to see all of us as worthy, no matter how badly we fail, how many we hurt. I wonder what would happen if we commit to choose all of us. I wonder how that might change us.

 

Kate McCord is the Movement Strategy & Communications Director for the Action Alliance and has been working in the movement to end gender-based violence for over 25 years. Kate is working with other coalition leaders across the country to mobilize toward a future in which all of us have what we need to thrive. She first wrote about her experiences in #Charlottesville in a blog post dated August 15, 2017.

#charlottesville #transformativejustice #accountability #harm​​ #whitesupremacist #domesticterrorism


Featured image: Kate McCord

Notes:

[i] Credit to Dr. Mimi Kim for unveiling this concept. Also see Dr. Kim’s related, fascinating paper, Dancing the Carceral Creep: The Anti-Domestic Violence Movement and the Paradoxical Pursuit of Criminalization, 1973 – 1986.

[ii] Danielle Sered, Common Justice. See her powerful 1-minute video here, a longer talk about “Violence, Restoration, and Accountability” (starting at 11:50) here, and a great podcast, On Restorative Justice: What Justice Could Look Like, featuring Danielle Sered and Sonya Shah.

[iii] “We choose all of us” is a sentiment first shared by one of my teachers, Norma Wong. Inspired by Norma’s words, the Idaho Coalition Against Sexual & Domestic Violence has created the beautiful “We Choose All Of Us” Campaign, a middle school and high school campaign to deepen our connections with one another and nurture transformative culture shifts.

TransformHarm.org is a resource hub about ending violence. It offers an introduction to transformative justice. Created by Mariame Kaba and designed by Joseph Lublink, the site includes selected articles, audio-visual resources, curricula, and more.


Join the work of the Action Alliance.

Holiday Gift Guide for Social Change Enthusiasts

As the holiday season approaches and you start to think about what you’ll be gifting your loved ones, our team at the Action Alliance wanted to share a few things to give to the emerging or seasoned preventionists and activists in your life!


FOR CHILDREN

A is for activist

Cover image for book, A is for Activist by Innosanto Nagara

A is for Activist or Counting on Community by Innosanto Nagara

A is for Activist is an ABC board book written and illustrated for the next generation of progressives: families who want their kids to grow up in a space that is unapologetic about activism, environmental justice, civil rights, LGBTQ rights, and everything else that activists believe in and fight for. The alliteration, rhyming, and vibrant illustrations make the book exciting for children, while the issues it brings up resonate with their parents’ values of community, equality, and justice. This engaging little book carries huge messages as it inspires hope for the future, and calls children to action while teaching them a love for books.”

counting on community

Cover image for book, Counting on Community by Innosanto Nagara

Counting on Community is Innosanto Nagara’s follow-up to his hit ABC book, A is for Activist. Counting up from one stuffed piñata to ten hefty hens–and always counting on each other–children are encouraged to recognize the value of their community, the joys inherent in healthy eco-friendly activities, and the agency they posses to make change. A broad and inspiring vision of diversity is told through stories in words and pictures. And of course, there is a duck to find on every page!”

 

 

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Cover image for book, Sex is a Funny Word by Cory Silverberg and Fiona Smyth

 Sex is a Funny Word by Cory Silverberg

“A comic book for kids that includes children and families of all makeups, orientations, and gender identities, Sex Is a Funny Word is an essential resource about bodies, gender, and sexuality for children ages 8 to 10 as well as their parents and caregivers. Much more than the “facts of life” or “the birds and the bees,” Sex Is a Funny Word opens up conversations between young people and their caregivers in a way that allows adults to convey their values and beliefs while providing information about boundaries, safety, and joy.”

 

 

LJL.jpg

A sample box of materials from Little Justice Leaders, including markers, a book, and a journal.

Little Justice Leaders Subscription Box

Perfect for kids in grades K-5, this subscription box highlights a social justice issue each month through arts and crafts, projects, books, conversation starters, and other activities that help the young person in your life how to understand complex issues. Options include a sibling pack for families with more than one child and a teacher version for teachers!

 

 

my-first-book-of-feminism-for-boys-9781941367629_hr

Cover of the book, My First Book of Feminism (for boys) by Julie Merberg

My First Book of Feminism (For Boys) by Julie Merberg

With simple and colorful illustrations and engaging, age-appropriate language, this book is perfect for children ages 0-3! At the Action Alliance we believe it’s never too early for young people to learn about respecting other people’s boundaries and no’s and that masculinity can be expansive, tender, and caring; this book is a great way to start those conversations with the young people in your life!

 


FOR YOUNG ADULTS

the hate

Cover image for the book, The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

“Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil’s name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does—or does not—say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life.”

 

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Cover image for the book, The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

Recently named a National Book Award Winner! “Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, she has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking. But Xiomara has plenty she wants to say, and she pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers—especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. With Mami’s determination to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself. So when she is invited to join her school’s slam poetry club, she doesn’t know how she could ever attend without her mami finding out. But she still can’t stop thinking about performing her poems. Because in the face of a world that may not want to hear her, Xiomara refuses to be silent.”

Girls-Write-Now-RGB-1-800x1236

Cover of Girls Write Now book

Girls Write Now: Two Decades of True Stories from Young Female Voices by Girls Write Now

Girls Write Now builds community through their Writing & Mentorship Program, Digital Media Mentoring Program, and monthly workshop series. For the last 20 years they have connected girls and young women with progression women writers to provide mentees with tools to grow as writers and storytellers. In a starred review, Booklist wrote, “Through poetic verse and infused with native language, these 116 autobiographical short stories from black, Asian, and Latina young women are thoughtful, earnest, raw, regretful, angry, and impassioned . . . The authors’ authentic experiences will elicit strong emotional reactions from readers and maybe even encourage them to write their own. Strongly recommended.”


FOR EVERYONE

Fund Abortion Earrings

Fund Abortion/Build Power earrings in purple

Fund Abortion/Build Power Earrings or We Fund Abortion Socks by National Network of Abortion Funds

The National Network of Abortion Funds builds power with its members to remove barriers to abortion access. In their work they center people who have had abortions and organize at the intersections of racial, economic and reproductive justice. Many Action Alliance staff have a huge crush on NNAF and the abortion funds (and individuals) that make up their membership (including the Richmond Reproductive Freedom Project), and it’s not just because they have some of the coolest merch out there.

 

OB

Cover image of the book, Octavia’s Brood, edited by Walidah Imarisha and adrienne maree brown

Octavia’s Brood edited by Walidah Imarisha and adrienne maree brown

“Whenever we envision a world without war, prisons, or capitalism, we are producing speculative fiction. Organizers and activists envision, and try to create, such worlds all the time. Walidah Imarisha and adrienne maree brown have brought 20 of them together in the first anthology of short stories to explore the connections between radical speculative fiction and movements for social change. These visionary tales span genres–sci-fi, fantasy, horror, magical realism–but all are united by an attempt to inject a healthy dose of imagination and innovation into our political practice and to try on new ways of understanding ourselves, the world around us, and all the selves and worlds that could be. Also features essays by Tananarive Due and Mumia Abu-Jamal, and a preface by Sheree Renee Thomas.”

 

unap

Cover image of the book, Unapologetic, by Charlene Carruthers

Unapologetic: A Black, Queer, and Feminist Mandate for Radical Movements by Charlene Carruthers

“Drawing on Black intellectual and grassroots organizing traditions, including the Haitian Revolution, the US civil rights movement, and LGBTQ rights and feminist movements, Unapologetic challenges all of us engaged in the social justice struggle to make the movement for Black liberation more radical, more queer, and more feminist. This book provides a vision for how social justice movements can become sharper and more effective through principled struggle, healing justice, and leadership development. It also offers a flexible model of what deeply effective organizing can be, anchored in the Chicago model of activism, which features long-term commitment, cultural sensitivity, creative strategizing, and multiple cross-group alliances. And Unapologetic provides a clear framework for activists committed to building transformative power, encouraging young people to see themselves as visionaries and leaders.”

 

MDBO_Black_TShirt_Front_1024x1024

Free Our Mothers t-shirt in black

Mama’s Bail Out Shirt or Chisholm for President Crewneck

Philadelphia Print Works is a social justice brand and screen printing workshop. They have partnered with organizations such as the Philadelphia Community Bail Fund, Assata’s Daughters, March to End Rape Culture, and the Philly Trans March to support organizing around food security, police brutality, liberation, tlgbq+ rights, mass incarceration and more!

 

Chisolm for President

Chisholm for President shirt in red, available at Philadelphia PrintWorks, a social justice heritage brand and screen printing workshop. It was founded in 2010 by Maryam Pugh and Ruth Perez.

 

 

Rise-Up-photo-credit-Molly-McLeod

A picture of the Rise Up game board and playing pieces.

Rise Up: The Game of People & Power

This collaborative board game is all about building people power and winning together for social justice! A great game for nights in with friends or office team building alike, this game is all about building movements. Created by the folks at the TESA Collective, don’t forget to check out the rest of their store full of expansion packs and other social justice-centered games.

 

crabs-01

An image of the Repeal Hyde Art Project’s poster, which is an illustration of two crabs with the header, “Friends don’t let friends plot to dismantle the imperialist, white supremacist, capitalist heteropatriarchy alone.”

“Friends Don’t Let Friends” Repeal Hyde Art Project Print

The Repeal Hyde Art Project aims to create dialogue and awareness around the Hyde Amendment. Passed in 1976, the Hyde Amendment prevents people from using Medicaid to pay for abortions. This art project highlights how the Hyde Amendment has disproportionately impacted women of color and is connected to other forms of oppression such as transphobia, ableism, and classism. Many Action Alliance staffers have these beautiful prints in their office to reminds us that “Friends don’t let friends plot to dismantle the imperialist, white supremacist, capitalist heteropatriarchy alone!”

 

Gumbs

Cover image of the book, Revolutionary Mothering, edited by Alexis Pauline Gumbs, China Martens, and Mai’a Williams

Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Front Lines edited by Alexis Pauline Gumbs, China Martens, and Mai’a Williams

“Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Frontlines is an anthology that centers mothers of color and marginalized mothers’ voices—women who are in a world of necessary transformation. The challenges faced by movements working for antiviolence, anti-imperialist, and queer liberation, as well as racial, economic, reproductive, gender, and food justice are the same challenges that marginalized mothers face every day. Motivated to create spaces for this discourse because of the authors’ passionate belief in the power of a radical conversation about mothering, they have become the go-to people for cutting-edge inspired work on this topic for an overlapping committed audience of activists, scholars, and writers. Revolutionary Mothering is a movement-shifting anthology committed to birthing new worlds, full of faith and hope for what we can raise up together.”

 

bitch

Feminist fury pencil pack from Bitch Media

Feminist Fury Pencil Pack by Bitch Media

Bitch Media has provided thoughtful feminist responses to mainstream media and pop culture since 1996 in print, online, on the air, and on campuses. This pack three-pack of neon pencils are ready to help you write or sketch out your angry feminist agenda and support Bitch Media at the same time!

 

 

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Cover image of the book, Don’t Call Us Dead by Danez Smith

Don’t Call Us Dead: Poems by Danez Smith

“Award-winning poet Danez Smith is a groundbreaking force, celebrated for deft lyrics, urgent subjects, and performative power. Don’t Call Us Dead opens with a heartrending sequence that imagines an afterlife for black men shot by police, a place where suspicion, violence, and grief are forgotten and replaced with the safety, love, and longevity they deserved here on earth. Smith turns then to desire, mortality—the dangers experienced in skin and body and blood—and a diagnosis of HIV positive. “Some of us are killed / in pieces,” Smith writes, “some of us all at once.” Don’t Call Us Dead is an astonishing and ambitious collection, one that confronts, praises, and rebukes America—“Dear White America”—where every day is too often a funeral and not often enough a miracle.”

 

Be the Change: Just Seeds Coloring Book by Justseeds Artists’ Cooperative

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Cover image for the book, Be the Change by Justseeds Artists’ Cooperative

Be the Change is the first coloring book featuring the art of Justseeds Artists’ Cooperative!  These 35 illustrations envision radical social transformation and pathways toward a more just future. People of all ages will find inspiration here. In a world that is getting faster every day, slow down and celebrate art and resistance. Make the revolution bright, colorful, and irresistible! Together we can be the change we want to see!”

 

 

 

 

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Cover image of book, Queer and Trans Artists of Color by Nia King

Queer and Trans Artists of Color: Stories of Some of Our Lives by Nia King

“A collection of sixteen unique and honest conversations you won’t read anywhere else… Mixed-race queer art activist Nia King left a full-time job in an effort to center her life around making art. Grappling with questions of purpose, survival, and compromise, she started a podcast called We Want the Airwaves in order to pick the brains of fellow queer and trans artists of color about their work, their lives, and “making it” – both in terms of success and in terms of survival. In this collection of interviews, Nia discusses fat burlesque with Magnoliah Black, queer fashion with Kiam Marcelo Junio, interning at Playboy with Janet Mock, dating gay Latino Republicans with Julio Salgado, intellectual hazing with Kortney Ryan Ziegler, gay gentrification with Van Binfa, getting a book deal with Virgie Tovar, the politics of black drag with Micia Mosely, evading deportation with Yosimar Reyes, weird science with Ryka Aoki, gay public sex in Africa with Nick Mwaluko, thin privilege with Fabian Romero, the tyranny of “self-care” with Lovemme Corazón, “selling out” with Miss Persia and Daddie$ Pla$tik, the self-employed art activist hustle with Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarsinha, and much, much more. Welcome to the future of QPOC art activism.”

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Poster image of a drawing of Marsha P Johnson with heading, “No pride for some of us without liberation for all of us” by Micah Bazant.

Marsha P Johnson Poster by Micah Bazant

The tagline on Micah Bazant’s website is “making social change look irresistible,” and that is very much what they do. They are a “a trans visual artist who works with social justice movements to reimagine the world. They create art inspired by struggles to decolonize ourselves from white supremacy, patriarchy, ableism, and the gender binary.” This particular poster was first created in 2014 for their “No Pride for Some of Us Without Liberation for All of Us” series as a way to “challenge whitewashed gay pride and celebrate Marsha, one of the mother of the trans and queer liberation movement.”


This holiday gift-giving guide is brought to you by the Action Alliance’s Social Change Team, which works on social change and movement building to disrupt the conditions that give rise to violence and oppression.