Homegrown: A Message to Baltimore by Baltimore by charmlitmag

HOMEGROWN A Message to Baltim ore by Baltim ore

A project from CHARM: Voices of Baltimore Youth

Homegrown: A Message to Baltimore by Baltimore

Homegrown: A Message to Baltimore by Baltimore CHARM: Voices of Baltimore Youth Baltimore Unity Hall | 1505 Eutaw Place | Baltimore, MD 21217 https://charmlitmag.org Cover Art: Christian Hicks Book Design: Yifan Luo © CHARM & authors, 2022

Student Editorial Board All CHARM Publications are produced by our student editorial board, which consists of 20 middle and high school students from around Baltimore. The board is made up of two teams: Journalism and Publications. The following students were part of Homegrown’s publication: Me’Shiah Bell | Baltimore Polytechnic High School Shubhan Bhat | Baltimore Polytechnic High School Denim Fisher | Pikesville High School Charlie Martin | Commodore John Rodgers Elementary/Middle Ashley Morejon | Benjamin Franklin High School Zoe Muher | Francis Scott Key Elementary/Middle Kameran Rodgers | Commodore John Rodgers Elementary/Middle Tehle Ross | Baltimore City College Elisabeth Paulk | Baltimore Polytechnic High School Kendall Safran | Benjamin Franklin High School Marilu Velazquez | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women Evelyn Williams | Baltimore School for the Arts

Adult Supporters Executive Director: Whitney Birenbaum Graphic Designer and Portrait Illustrator: Yifan Luo Partnerships Coordinator: Madison Mattison Student Editorial Board Mentor: Jonathan Veale

Foreword A while back, I’ll never forget happily unloading books onto the counter at a nearby store. he cashier asked, “Who are these for?” I told her they were for my classroom library. She asked where I taught. I told her. She paused. With a serious face she had the nerve to say, “Aren’t you scared working in Baltimore? Like, if students will hurt you?” My face contorted, and I corrected her assumptions. About Baltimore. About my students. hat cashier’s negative and ignorant attitude toward Baltimore, especially toward Baltimore youth, isn’t unheard of. here’s a persistent, false narrative in the media and surrounding neighboring communities that Baltimore kids are “bad,” “dangerous,” “unruly,” and “uneducated.” Turn on the news, open a newspaper, read comments for stories about Baltimore. You’ll see ideas and beliefs rooted in fallacy about Baltimore’s youth: violent, ignorant, incapable, failing, uncaring. he list goes on. But, to me, those are lies told that are rooted in Baltimore’s long history of anti-Blackness, racism, segregation, and chronic underfunding. Actually, Baltimore youth are brilliantly thriving and boldly existing, even when the rest of the world is telling them they can’t. I see Baltimore youth from Healing Youth Alliance leading Trauma Informed Care Training for adults at Pratt. I see Baltimore youth writing their own beautiful poems and art to be shared in publications like CHARM magazine or performed during DewMore events. I see Baltimore youth organizing and protesting for racial and gender equality, as well as culturally responsive classes, within their schools and their communities. I also see

Baltimore youth winning debate tournaments, participating in robotics competitions, starting businesses, learning trades, getting acceptance letters into various colleges around the country, and so much more. If you pay closer attention and ignore the naysayers, these positive stories are boundless. Unfortunately, these positive stories aren’t given as much attention as the negative narrative. here is power in words and art. Homegrown is about taking that power of words and art to control Baltimore’s narrative into a more honest and complete one, especially for our youth. No matter what anybody says or tries to do, our perspectives, our voices, and our stories hold immense value and beauty. As D. Watkins said in one of his books, “We speak for ourselves.” Nobody else does. With Homegrown, we asked Baltimore artists, authors, activists, and other community members to create original and personal works that allow young people to experience and connect with a narrative beyond death and sufering. his book was curated especially for Baltimore youth. It is our hope that students use these stories for a stronger sense of self and value so that they know unquestionably that their worth is not determined by their current circumstances or how others view them; they can and will reach any heights they choose. Why should Baltimore be pigeonholed into a single, incomplete narrative? Baltimore is not monolithic. Never has been. Never will be. herefore, we spoke for ourselves. ~ Sidney homas

Homegrown Sheri Booker

Black Keys Meccamorphosis

he Beauty in Your “Tew” Brittany Young

Dear Baltimore Erricka Bridgeford

Teaching Poetry Slangston Hughes

How Baltimore Came to Be Alanah Nichole Davis

How Baltimore Became a Healing City Zeke Cohen

Broken Link Akilah Divine

Carving Out the Moments Dr. Kaye Wise Whitehead

How Did You Find the Beauty in Baltimore? Kyle Pompey

contents

Penn North Kyle Pompey

Lanvale & Greenmount Kyle Pompey

Homegrown Takirra Winield-Dixon

So Y’all Gay? by Jabari Lyles

I Can Be… Dyymond Whipper-Young

Letter of Recommendation: Nike Air Force 1s D. Watkins

Untitled Lady Brion

he Day I Fell In Love With Baltimore NIA JUNE

Dear Mother Baltimore Erica L. Green

Acknowledgments

About CHARM

Homegrown By Sheri J. Booker

Dear Young Dreamer from Bmore — I’m writing this because we are family. here are strands of this city etched into our DNA. hat’s why we talk like we “DEW.” But I need to explain something to you. Baltimore is your home. It’s not just a place that you hear about on television or the internet. It’s the heart of who we become. Grit and authenticity make its way into our molecular makeup when we are born here. his small town makes us tenacious. We wake up with audacity. We are a diferent type of dreamer. We see what others can’t imagine because they don’t know what it’s like to be us. hey don’t know what it’s like to have to be the light in the darkest situations. hey don’t know what it’s like to breathe in things that could potentially kill you and still muster up just enough strength to give someone another chance at life. hey don’t know what it’s like to have death as a teacher. When you are from Baltimore, you can survive anywhere in the world. You can thrive anywhere in the world. You are “wired” diferently. Ain’t nobody like us. We take our southern charm and mix it with our urge to hustle and bustle. We get it done. he world knows us by name. hey know where to ind us. We inspire. We create legends. We deine greatness. We beat odds. We inluence the world. We do it for the culture. We are the blueprint.

Lionel Yewitt, “The Insipiration”

And just because we are built this way doesn’t mean that we don’t get frustrated. hat the days don’t become overwhelming or that we don’t get exhausted from the news. Some days we just want to be heard. Some days we just want to see the change appear overnight like an answered prayer. Some days we want to leave here and never look back. But then we remember — the feeling of home. We remember that we are family. We remember the deep legacy of our ancestors that still lives here. We remember the work that must be done. We remember the ire inside of us. And we get back to work. We reach back and we pull someone up. We create. And we create. And create. So never forget, you are Baltimore.

bio by Tehle Ross

Sheri Booker, a native Baltimorean, is an award-winning poet, author, spoken-word artist, and professor. Booker received the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literary Work by a Debut Author for her book Nine Years Under: Coming of Age in an Inner City Funeral Home. This memoir tells the story of Booker’s experience of her work in a Black funeral home in Baltimore at age 15. A world traveler, Sheri Booker has previously lived in South Africa, where she helped teach young African women about journalism and writing. Booker was a Cultural Ambassador for the U.S. Embassy. In this role, she traveled to India to share her poetry through performance and teaching.

Black Keys By Meccamorphosis

Play me a song made of only the Black keys I want you to show me what Jazz comes from my skin when Blackness is caressed by loving hands I could never love a piano without its sharps for it no longer looks like a Black child with gaps between their teeth And cheeks from Ova West to Ova East Baltimore Daring to smile Grand piano in jaw Hold that note for me as long you can Between the laughter or the breathing I can’t tell which is my favorite part of the song Do that one part again when you played me a memory us dancing gathering living singing he moments the world couldn’t take our keys away You cracked your knuckles Said Hold that thought And I did

bio by Denim Fisher

Mecca Verdell, known as Meccamorphosis, is a Baltimore based poet of DewMore Baltimore. She began her poetry career in 2016, and since then she has achieved an abundance of accomplishments. Her experience ranges from winning national national poetry slams, to being a teaching artist at regional universities, to becoming a radio show host. She takes pride in ensuring that youth feel encouraged to express themselves. Poetry is important to her becauseit is an incredible outlet to heal and display your creativity.

The Beauty in Your “Tew” By Brittany Young

As you grow in the world never forget how you are tew much and more than enough. Some will say you have too much attitude Some people will say you have to smile Some people will ask you to repeat yourself Some people will say you have an accent and make you say “tew,” “dew,” or “yew” just to hear it. When the time comes, you make sure you wear Baltimore with pride. Head up, poke out your chest and remind them where you come from. For too long, we have sat on the sidelines as people created a narrative for us. his city was the home of the most free Black people. We led the industrial revolution that powered an entire nation. he place our grands and great grands migrated to escape the south with their hopes of freedom and joys for generations to come. No matter if you’re from ova east, ova west or down the hill. You better remind people that you are tew much to handle, you dew love your city and how yew wear being from here with pride.

Tamya Guaman-Palchisaca, “Beauty in Baltimore”

bio by Marilu Velazquez

Brittany Young is a Baltimore native who has a diverse background in STEM and Education. She founded B-360, an organization whose mission is to utilize dirt bike culture to end the cycle of poverty, disrupt the prison pipeline, and build bridges in communities. A few of Brittany’s other accomplishments include serving as a co-chair of Mayor Brandon Scott’s transition committee, being named one of Maryland’s Leading Women, and being awarded an Echoing Green fellowship. Brittany enjoys serving her community and motivating others through education that problem-solves the issues we have in our communities and system. She believes those closest to the problem are also the solution. Her hope is to reimagine the city by promoting Black talent, genius, and culture by utilizing dirt bike culture to better the Baltimore community. Her work has been featured in TED, Kelly Clarkson, Steve Harvey, The Today Show, and more.

Dear Baltimore By Erricka Bridgeford

Dear Baltimore, Let’s talk about your strength Let’s talk about how you rise When everybody thinks you’re down for the count Let’s talk about how you rise Rise like that time my brother was on crack And my parents would search the streets looking for him And sometimes, he would run from them But that one time… one time I found him And he almost ran And I begged him not to And I reminded him that I’d been at my bottom, too. hat I’d seen the crevices of my gutter, too. And having come up out of it, here was no way I was gonna leave him Rise like how he promised me he would meet me later that afternoon… And let me take him to our parents Rise like how I promised him I’d be standing on that corner until he returned And he left to go get that last hit… Rise like the joy in my soul when I saw his frail, crack devoured body coming over the hill To let his sister take him home So rise like that time I realized that I actually love having one hand And I learned to kiss my nub every single day.

Rise like the glimmer of excitement in children’s eyes when somebody opens the ire hydrant on a hot Summer Day I’m saying it like it’s easy when I know it’s hard When I know what’s been done to you When I know how they still neglect you But I know you You made me I know that it looks so dark all around you Open your eyes anyway hey are the lamps in the darkness Your vision can shine away the darkest corners around you, Of you, In you Healing you Rise like that time I sat down to write you this letter Whether you feel like it or not Worthy or not Broken or whole Rise to your soul’s Calling Yearning Knowing Knowing that you are not other people’s perception of you With your name on their lips And your greatness far from their understanding Rise because you know only you can save you Rise like that time we spent a week singing, dancing, and praying at North & Penn With cameras all around waiting for us to blow up again All the while, we were strategizing how to know us, within Rise like that time since 2014 we had 11 and a half days of no murder.

Rise like the people who convinced each other not to break that streak See… you are worth standing in the gap for Going to war for Demanding peace for Let’s talk about your strength Let’s talk about your resilience Let’s talk about how you rise time and time again Dear Baltimore Not only only do you have rise in you Rise IS you

bio by Elisabeth Paulk

Right: Donovan Fortune, “City in a Drop”

Erricka Bridgeford is a renowned activist, healer, and inspirational speaker from Baltimore. She has worked to repeal the death penalty in Maryland and has worked to get money and resources to families of murder victims. Bridgeford is most known for being a co-organizer of Baltimore Ceasefire 365, a movement that quarterly calls for 72 hours of life-affirming events and no murder in Baltimore. Started in 2017, Baltimore Ceasefire has resulted in weekends with less violence than normally seen, more celebrations of life than normally experienced, and hundreds of murder locations being reclaimed as sacred ground. In 2017, she was named the Marylander of the Year for her role in starting Baltimore Ceasefire 365. Before her time as an activist, Bridgeford was a mediator, and was the first mediator-trainer to go to prison and train people who are incarcerated in mediating conflict. Erricka is currently Executive Director at the Baltimore Community Mediation Center, where she also mediates conflicts, trains mediators around the country, and leads conflict management trainings.

Teaching Poetry By Slangston Hughes

10 not so easy steps for teaching poetry Step 1: Remind yourself that you are not teaching poetry. If only it were that easy. Know that there will be days when you must be a magician. Words will not be enough. You will need wizardry. Step 2: Tell yourself that poetry is a super power. hat today you can save the world with words. hat you can social justice league their path to a better tomorrow and leap apathy in a single bound. his will be a lie. Step 3: Change your occupation. From poet... to beaver. Cause lord knows you will have to work extremely hard just to give a damn. On the day that your looded basement becomes a safe haven for youth writing workshops and little hungry poet children eat up all your ramen noodles and turkey bologna during slam practice. Bastards.

Step 4: Finally become religious. When at 3am Deiondre aka Grim hunts your DMs. With another desperate attempt to rent the veil between lyricist and physiologist When there is no Jesus, just a pen to jot down his quiet gesethmes with. And you realize you’re the only air/ ear in the garden. To hear these prayers turned last writes. Step 5: Get certiied in CPR. For the day when you are forced to edit suicide note disguised as poem. When the last thing he writes might be the last thing he writes. Try to ind the breath in him when Melvin tries to erase the body of his own sacred text. You must press poem into his chest and show him that he still has sacred left.

Step 6 Allow your mirror to double as motivational speaker. To help you accept the truth. And admit that you are equally overjoyed and terriied. On the day that you decide to adopt poet as daughter. Or daughters. Know that you will feel as powerless as a child. When your child uses pain to carve stanzas into her lesh on days when the page just isn’t comfort enough. And neither are you. Step 7: When you and the other teaching artist each make the adult slam team. You will travel all the way to Oakland or Atlanta, Denver and Chicago just to ind out that you are not “adults.” hat the teachers and the students are exactly the same! hat you are just as panic prone and petriied of your own potential as the children are. hat you are the children. And your most diicult bout will have nothing to do with poems. Yet your greatest victory will be discovering that you are clearly more community than colleagues. More family than slam team. hat your love for one another out ranks any national ranking. And no score, or inal stage can ever change that! Step 8: Realize you have no steps let. Because you have not inished your own manual. And you cannot “Sway” yourself into believing that you have the answers.

Because you do not. And the poem is almost done. But your work, has just begun...

I have told him that if he was around when the Last Poets first started he could’ve rolled with us! Umar Bin Hassan of The Last Poets

bio by Kameran Rogers

Victor Frantz Rodgers 2nd aka Slangston Hughes is a National Slam Champion based out of Baltimore, Maryland. He is Director of Youth Poetry at Dew More Baltimore and lead coach of the world champion (2016 & 2018) Baltimore City Youth Poetry Team. His work has been published in the Poets’ America anthology via the Kratz Creative Writing Center. Slangston published his ﬁrst collaborative literary work Writers’ Alchemy with prosaist Devlon E. Waddell as part of E.M.B.O.D.Y. Most recently Slangston Hughes released a collection of his poetry that spans nearly two decades. Slanguage Arts & Griot Glimpses is both a chronicling of one individual’s growth as a writer over a 15 year period (2002–2017) of poetic evolution as well as a record of some of this era’s most pressing sociopolitical issues and happenings as witnessed and responded to in arguably some of the most radical and profoundly truthful incantations ever written down via the medium of poetry in a manner where the political and personal merge. Slanguage Arts & Griot Glimpses is very much “a research guide for the soul.” In addition, he is a founder of Speak Out: Slammageddon. Slangston was also a member of the Slammageddon Baltimore slam team that won the 2016 National Poetry Slam, the Southern Fried Slam in 2017, 2018, and 2019, as well as Ink Slam 2019.

How Baltimore Came To Be Alanah Nichole Davis

In the not so far reaches of my imagination God is a woman who was married to the man who was the God at the time of the the holocaust, slavery, and racism. He inherited all of creation from His father who was also God over the plague and the creation of avocados, it should be noted that I the author am not fond of avocados...or the holocaust or slavery or racism. Anyway…She God, divorced He God and in the divorce she inherited the earth and all of its inhabitants, but its problems too, sigh... In the not so far reaches of my imagination God is a divorced woman who travels through time on the sil Her cumulonimbus cloud, which seconds as Her home. She sits high there in her plush home tinkering with all of time, continually creating the land, picking away at its edges with the sea using her breath as a pencil. One day She-God sat high on the sil of her cumulonimbus cloud riding over the year 1729 when She had a hankering for a town, a taste for a city. Having already created St. Augustine on Sept. 8, 1565, Santa Fe, New Mexico 1607 and Albany, New York 1614 she headed just south of Albany, but not too South...but also not too North and on the way she sketched the Mason Dixon line. Being perfectly not too South or not too North she whispered, “Maryland” into her ist and she hit the irmament hard with thunder from which crawled one

singular crab and under his tiny legs a puddle of water that grew into what we now know as the Chesapeake Bay — which crawled down to what then was a crystal blue Harbor. A Crab? She thought and fought back tears from the pain it caused her knuckles to create so much all in one day she slammed the irmament again after whispering ‘Baltimore’ and out from her thunderous hand emerged ships, shops, and cobblestones — lots and lots of car axle wrecking cobblestones.

Khaliah Deya, “Adaptable”

She saw the beauty of Baltimore and saw that it was good, also gritty but mostly good and she created the hearts of the people in her image. Being satisied with her creation she left to conjure other cities...taking her eyes of of Baltimore for only 2 seconds its inhabitants hosted he Battle of Baltimore and he B&O railroad Mount Clare Station, the War of 1812 had come and gone. Two more seconds in God’s time and it was 1904 — he Great Baltimore ire erupted consuming Baltimore City she commanded the ires to stop and the city slowly rebuilt itself. he city we see today is a result of a woman’s work, sacriice, and Old Bay Seasoning. he End.

Victoria Lasek, “Commute Home”

bio by Elisabeth Paulk

Alanah Nichole Davis is a writer, designer, and philanthropist currently living in Baltimore, Maryland. She is a Leslie King Hammond Graduate Fellow, a 2020 Maryland Delaware and DC Press Association awardee, and a 2021 recipient of the Fred Lazarus Leadership for Social Change award. In 2021, she earned a Master of Arts in Social Design from Maryland Institute College of Art. Davis’ writing is centered around love, womanhood, and race and has gone viral in many online spaces.

Amaya Burke, “Two Cities”

How Baltimore Became a Healing City by Zeke Cohen

On an otherwise normal day, students in Mr. Parson’s class heard a loud bang. All of a sudden, Frederick Douglass High School erupted into chaos. “Lock the door!” Someone shouted. “Active shooter. his is not a drill.” he students huddled together. No one knew what to do. When the day ended, they learned that a beloved staf member had been shot and injured. he experience was deeply traumatic for the students, staf and entire community. he safety of the school had been violated. hree students from the class decided to take action. With their teacher, they went to city hall to testify about this horrible experience and demand a response from city leaders. hey felt a ierce determination to not allow this event to go unanswered. hey wrote speeches and practiced giving them in their classroom. When the students got to city hall, many of the adults were talking about adding more metal detectors or giving school police guns. But Bryonna, Jaionna, and Damani wanted something entirely diferent. In loud powerful voices they spoke about the trauma they had experienced, not just during that shooting, but day to day dealing with homelessness, addiction, violence, and racism. hey demanded that we focus not only on what happened in their school, but what happens to children across our city. hey did not want to hear more about policing, but prevention. hey wanted us to create a law to help Baltimoreans heal from trauma.

As a former teacher, and current City Councilmember I was moved by the student’s moral clarity. hey could not be ignored. I approached them after the hearing. We decided to work together to write a law that would help Baltimore heal. When you want to write a law, it’s important to irst do your homework. Where else is there a similar law? What already exists? What can we learn from other places? I was shocked to ind that no other city in America had created a law to help heal trauma. Lawmakers also need to hear directly from impacted people about what they want changed. We embarked on a year-long “listening tour,” to directly ask Baltimore’s communities how we could legislate healing. We listened in libraries, in rec centers, in barber shops and in classrooms across our city. We worked directly with the students to write the bill. We learned that there were many people across our city engaged in healing work. From artists to educators, to barbers, beauticians, non-proits and activists, Baltimore is illed with healers. But City Government needed to step our game up and play our part. A year after the shooting, over three hundred Baltimore City Students went to Morgan State University for the irst ever Healing City Summit. hey shared poems, Ted Talks, panels and breakout sessions on how to heal from trauma. hey spoke with deep authenticity as only young people can do. he next day we went to Coppin State University for a massive resource fair. Baltimore’s communities came together in a show of joy and healing. We walked with the Frederick Douglass marching band back to the high school and iled into the auditorium. here, Bryonna, Jaionna, and Damani spoke about the law that they helped to write. hey spoke about

reclaiming their power and transforming their pain into purpose after the horriic shooting. As Mayor Jack Young signed the bill right there in their school, Baltimore became the irst city in America to enact a law calling for trauma responsive care across government. In other words, every city agency will learn about trauma, and learn how to help people heal through meditation, mindfulness, restorative practices and self-care. Young people have the power to shape the world we live in. By using your voice, you can correct injustice and demand more from the people in charge. Know that there are adults in positions of power that will listen if you organize and speak out. Don’t let the doubters or the haters have the last word. Just like the students from Frederick Douglass, you too can change our laws, and change our world.

bio by Ashley Morejon

Zeke Cohen represents District 1 on the Baltimore City Council and Chairs the Trauma Informed Care Taskforce. Councilmember Cohen graduated from Goucher College earning a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science and also earned a Master’s degree from The Johns Hopkins University in Public Policy. Cohen started his career as a teacher in West Baltimore and South Baltimore. He then started a nonproﬁt organization called The Intersection that teaches young people civic leadership and helps them learn community organizing. In July 2019, he introduced the Elijah Cummings Healing City Act, making Baltimore the ﬁrst city in America to comprehensively legislate trauma-responsive care. Zeke believes that Democracy only works when everyone has a voice.

Broken Link By Akilah Divine

Baked in brown sugar Beauty never looked better Baltimore be all grit Bouncing resilience and Brilliance of our lips Grills shining Gum Popping Sass on leek

Survival was birthed from how we live Our stories are told when we speak Here we exist Learned to walk these streets With hope in our hearts And a clenched ist I love where I’m from It taught me everything I know Swam in the deep of these waters Just to appreciate my ocean’s low I was born with a gift It allowed me to be in the presence of Art, Music, and Culture he result was a mind shift

here were people just like me Pushing talent like shopping carts Spitting on the mic And stimulating the heart We are all connected With a mission But if the link is broken How can we truly listen?

bio by Charlie Martin

Akilah Divine is a multi-disciplinary artist; singer, spoken word artist, rapper, and actress who was born and raised in Baltimore. She graduated from Delaware State University and received her two Bachelor’s Degrees in Social Work and Mass Communications. She continued her education and proceeded to obtain her Master’s Degree in Social Work. She aims to resonate and connect with people by giving them experiences they can feel. She has been featured in many publications, a few being: The Afro, Hot 97, Grid Magazine, Baltimore Times, and A&R Factory. Her hit single “TRIBE” was accepted as Official Selection in 14 ﬁlm festivals and won four best music video awards. She currently works as the School, Community, and Home Engagement Manager at the Greenmount West Community Center, an organization that allows her to use the fullness of her being to merge aspects of her artistry and profession. She focuses on inspiring others through her passions for writing, music, community engagement, and the arts.

Leslie Wheeler, “Canvas Painting: Between the Lines”

Carving Out the Moments by Dr. Kaye Wise Whitehead

On December 31, 1862, the night before the Emancipation Proclamation was due to be released, black and white people around the country were watching and waiting for freedom to arrive. hey were unsure about whether Abraham Lincoln was going to go forward with his emancipation plan and if he did go forward, they were not sure of what this would portend for our nation. Earlier that year, Lincoln, in a speech given in Antietam, Maryland, released a controversial document that was designed to provide the Confederate states with one inal opportunity to either join the Union or risk the immediate emancipation of their slaves. Even though this was a war tactic and was not designed to provide freedom for close to four million enslaved people, it was seen as the irst step, as a daybreak that would end a very long night of despair. On that night, as people waited for the freedom word to go forward, Frederick Douglass, at the Tremont Church in Boston, Massachusetts, spoke about the signiicance of this moment and how it was an answer to the agonizing prayers that had gone up for centuries. Douglass — who had been born enslaved in Tuckahoe, Talbot County and worked as a caulker in Baltimore — spoke a bit about his life in Maryland. He remembered how he fought to learn how to read; how his mom would walk hours at night to spend a little time with him; and of how he dreamed and planned to be free. He recognized early on that freedom was something that

you had to be willing to sacriice for, to break the law if you needed to, and to die if you had to. He understood that freedom is something that stands on the other side of struggle.

Alex Eller, “The Greatest City in America”

It has been about 160 years since that irst Watch Night, and there are days here in Baltimore where it feels like we are still watching and waiting for freedom to arrive, particularly over the last year. It has been a very long couple of years, between COVID-19 and the violence that plagues our city, and we have struggled and mourned; sacriiced and fought. We have watched our city come to the edge of darkness and slowly pull its way back. We have cheered when things have gone right and consoled ourselves when they did not. My father used to say that when you fall, make sure to fall on your back because if you can look up, then you can get up. his year, we have fallen so many times, and yet, every single time, we look up, and then we get up. We are truly a city of survivors, and because of this, we must make this moment, this one right here, the one where we decide to usher in a daybreak to end this long night of despair. his is the moment where we must craft a new narrative. We need to show the world that the strength of our city is uniquely tied to our ability to mobilize our best and brightest minds. Baltimore City is our Holy Ground and our blood, as Frederick Douglass once said, is mixed with the soil of this land. We helped to build this city, and it has survived because of our sacriice, and it is on its way to greatness because of our brilliance. Despite everything that has happened, Baltimore still stands tall like a lighthouse, always there, never moving, never giving an inch, helping us to guide our tiny ships through the raging waters of injustice and inequality, despair, and defeat, back to the shore.

We must remember to mark this occasion for future generations, to record for them that something happened at the end of all of these “moments” and because of it, there was a shift in the social and emotional climate. his is a powerful moment because it will be the one where we reclaim our neighborhoods and reclaim our children. his is the moment where we show the world that both our tears of sorrow and our tears of joy are mixed with the foundation of this city and our sweat and our sacriice are combined with the mortar that holds it together. We understand that like the best teachers we sometimes have to take a moment to reteach America some of the key things that they often fail to remember about Baltimoreans: that we are resilient, and failure for us has never been an option; that we are brilliant, and we can efectively mobilize the collective strength of our genius and strategically plan for a better tomorrow; and, that we are knitted together so that our collective strengths support our collective weaknesses. As we step into tomorrow, we will, as James Weldon Johnson once wrote, sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us. We will sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us. And when we fall, we will make sure to fall on our backs, because when we look up, we will get up.

bio by Denim Fisher

Karsonya Wise Whitehead, Ph.D. aka “Dr. Kaye” is the founding director of the Karson Institute for Race, Peace & Social Justice and an associate professor of Communication and African and African American Studies at Loyola University Maryland. She is the host of the award-winning radio show Today with Dr. Kaye on WEAA, 88.9 FM and the recent recipient of the Vernon Jarrett Medal for Journalistic Excellence, for her outstanding reporting on the impact racial reckoning has had in helping to close social/racial wealth gap for Black people in America. In 2021, Dr. Kaye received the Regional Edward R. Murrow Award for Excellence in Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion; the Afro newspaper selected her as one of their “2021 Newsmakers of the Year;” and she was selected by the Baltimore Business Journal to receive the Leaders in Diversity Award. She is an award-winning author of four books, including Letters to My Black Sons: Raising Boys in a Post-Racial America. Dr. Kaye aims to celebrate Black excellence and culture by offering her knowledge and insight in order to connect to the generation of children that are going to be the future leaders of the nation. A recent empty nester, she lives in Baltimore City with her husband.

How Did You Find the Beauty in Baltimore? By Kyle Pompey

I found the beauty in Baltimore through the lens of a Nikon Coolpix point and shoot in 2007, but don’t tell anybody I started with a Nikon. Lol. Before photography I was like a feather blowing in the wind. Out here in the World with no real goals or ambitions. Just going through life until I picked up a camera, that’s when my eyes really opened up. Photography allowed me to slow down and take in what the World has to ofer, speciically Baltimore. Photography saved my life. Photography allowed me to observe all things that matter. I’ve met great people that I have forged wonderful relationships with, I’ve discovered places that I didn’t know existed here in Baltimore, I’ve been able to document some of Baltimore’s

most monumental moments, but most of all I’ve been able to invest in the youth in a place that I call home. Born and raised in East Baltimore, I feel like it’s my duty to do what I can to make it better and I use photography to do that. My goal is to show the youth how photography could save their lives too. Kyle Pompey, “Penn North”

Kyle Pompey, “Lanvale & Greenmount”

bio by Zoe Muher

Kyle Pompey is a photojournalist and native Baltimorean. He has been interested in photography from a young age, and has had photography published in Ebony Magazine, The Huffington Post, GQ, Essence, Japan Magazine, and The Baltimore Sun Dark Room. He published his photography book, Perspective: Baltimore, which invites readers to interpret, reﬂect, and engage with his photos. He lets his subjects deﬁne his art, rather than a posed or planned photo.

Homegrown By Takirra Winield Dixon

Dear Brilliant Baltimore City Student (yup, that’s you), he beauty of Baltimore is…all of us. It’s in our potential before we even know it. It’s everything we give and everything we are — no one else can take that from us. Our talents, gifts and skills are a great asset. But our lived experiences make us greater. We are not all the same. We don’t come from the same neighborhood. We are bold. We are brave. We are incredible. We are smart not just because a textbook told us, but because we are resilient, creative and genius. Everything we need is already within us. Go ind it and channel it. here are so many success stories coming from our City. Just as we say the names of those we’ve lost, we should say the names of those who have not just survived, but thrived. We call Baltimore home, too. Add your name to that list. Be proud to be from Baltimore — we are so much more than pain, trauma and turmoil. Learn the history of the Black and brown people who made an impact and the names of the neighborhoods, the communities, and the streets where we lived and accomplished our dreams. To love yourself is to know yourself. Know what you want and surround yourself with positive people who will help you achieve your dreams. I am calling on you to make representation more than matter — we shouldn’t just settle for the irsts, but work toward many.

Left: Donovan Fortune, “The Darkling Thrush”

Most importantly, be yourself — your true, authentic, brilliant, bright, incredible, smart, innovative, beautiful, unique, conident self. Deine your own success. It is more than how much money you make or how many followers you have on social media. And most of all, know that those of us from Baltimore City really and deeply love our city and we absolutely love you and we cannot wait to pass the torch and see what you’ll do. We are counting on you to keep us Baltimore proud!

bio by Kameran Rogers

Takirra

Takirra Winfield Dixon is a native Baltimorean who is an activist, writer, communicator, and founder all while working hard to give back to her community. She has her Bachelor’s degree in Communications from the University of Maryland, College Park, and her Master’s degree in Intercultural Communications from Howard University. Winfield Dixon served in President Barack Obama’s administration as a political appointee. She is also the founder of Unapologetic Communications, a national strategic communications consulting firm with a focus on personal brand development for current and growing Black women influencers and visionaries to help them lean into their authentic voices.

So Y’all Gay? By Jabari Lyles

“Hi, my name is Jabari and I’m here today from an organization called GLSEN, which stands for he Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network.” With each jab of the word, “gay”, “lesbian” and “straight,” I heard gasps, giggles and some breathing stop altogether. “So y’all gay?” A student blurts out the question everyone is wondering. “Yep, I am,” I say proudly. More gasps, some smirks. “Let’s begin? Can you all form a circle for me?” It’s 2010, a decade into the new millennium. I’m 19, an energetic college dropout, with big dreams to become a Baltimore City math teacher with a classroom and whiteboard and everything. I started volunteering with Baltimore’s local chapter of GLSEN back in 2005, and by 2010, we were ready to search out grant funds to expand our “Safe Space for All” program in Baltimore City schools. We were a team of three: myself, another up-and-coming, young, Black, queer public service professional, Blair Franklin, and our fearless leader, a Jewish, 60-something, longtime civil rights advocate and distance runner, Kay Halle. We began organizing a conversation in Baltimore’s classrooms that year that would ignite another decade’s worth of conversations, trainings, meetings, policies, triumphs and failures. We decided we would attempt to ensure as many schools in Baltimore as we could were safe, celebratory places of

learning and support for LGBTQ youth. We advertised our program to a group of administrators, and we were eventually invited to speak with students and faculty members at ive diferent elementary/middle schools in Baltimore. I’d wake up miles away in Lutherville at 6:00AM to walk to a bus stop, catch the light rail, to jump on another bus, to end up at either Collington Square, Mt. Royal Elementary/Middle, Hampstead Hill Academy, NAF Middle and High, or FAST: Friendship Academy of Science and Technology. We spent hours and at times, full days inside of these classrooms, shuling in and out of seventh and eighth grade social studies periods, daring to say words that are rarely said in school, in a way that coated them with pride and conidence, a way that eked out fear and insecurity. “Gay.” “Lesbian.” “Queer.” “Bisexual.” “Transgender.” While sitting in the circle, we played a game that we called, “Me Too.” One student would stand in the middle and share a fact about themselves, usually something they liked or disliked. If you also liked or disliked the thing that was shared, you would shout, “me too” and get up and switch seats. he game would always start with things like favorite foods, or favorite pop stars. In 2010, middle schoolers in Baltimore City were obsessed with the boy-band Mindless Behavior. hat was always a popular answer. Eventually, we

would share a turn and say, “someone I know is gay.” hough a bit hesitant, multiple students stood up and shouted, “me too!” We would add, “someone I know has been bullied for being LGBT.” Several students would shout, “me too!” he foundation for our conversation had started. After the game, we discussed the impact of feeling accepted for whatever you like. We explored the students’ feelings when lots of students agreed with what they liked, or how it felt when you shared your like but no one else got up. We discussed empathy, the efect of harmful language and put-downs, and how to be an ally instead of a bystander when friends are being bullied. We talked about the importance of being a good citizen in your classroom so that everyone can learn. We discussed the beauty and bravery in knowing and loving yourself enough to embrace your identity, whatever it may be. I remember one particularly powerful experience, during an activity on empathy. We invited the students to read from small slips of paper which contained an example of a marginalized identity. We invited the students to imagine what it would be like to navigate school having that identity. One student picked a slip and read it: “I’m teased for being overweight.” he student paused and said, “I don’t have to imagine what it would be like. Y’all tease me and call me fat almost every day.” And then she began to cry. he entire class got out of their seats and surrounded this student with hugs and apologies. I’ll never forget that day. Each time we visited that class from the day forward, it seemed as

though a community wound had been healed. A safer space was created. Another time, during a discussion about stereotypes, we explored how jokes and stereotypes can be harmful to LGBTQ people. One of the students who was obviously accepted as a leader of the social scene in the class shared, “my uncle is gay. My parents tell me not to talk about it, but he’s cool. I don’t see what’s so wrong with it.” I remember how the rest of the class reacted. his was a student who, on the surface, seemed “tough”, “masculine” and conident. Students were shocked at how he discussed sexuality with ease, and more importantly, acceptance. By the end of that school year, there were no more giggles after saying words like “gay” and “lesbian.” Only lots of questions and lots of hope. “Mr. Lyles, you’re gay and all, but you’re actually kinda cool.” hat was love. I’ll never forget the time I spent in those classrooms discussing gender, sexuality and acceptance. In 2016, I inally became a math teacher, with a classroom and a whiteboard and everything. Some of my favorite memories in this city include my time as an openly Black, queer teacher in our classrooms. Our young people in Baltimore City have an incredible capacity for compassion, understanding, empathy and acceptance. No one has shown me the beauty and depth of Baltimore more than Baltimore’s youth.

bio by Tehle Ross

Jabari Lyles (he/they) was born in Baltimore, Maryland into a family of educators and human service providers. Lyles is an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community and was appointed by Governor Hogan to a four-year term on Maryland’s first-ever statewide Commission on LGBTQ Affairs in October 2021. They have worked as an educator in Baltimore City Schools, promoting inclusivity inside and outside of the classroom. They most recently served as Baltimore’s first Director of LGBTQ Affairs in the Office of the Mayor and Chief Operating Officer at Baltimore Safe Haven. Today, they own and operate a small consulting firm providing LGBTQ inclusion and training to schools and service providers across the country. They were honored as Baltimore Homecoming Hero, a Business Equality Magazine LGBTQ Leader Under 40, and their 2017 TEDx Talk, entitled Black Self/White World: Lessons on Internalized Racism, gained over 200,000 views and has been featured in racial justice education and university syllabi across the globe.

I Can Be… By Dyymond Whipper Young

bio by Charlie Martin

Dyymond Whipper Young is an educator who graduated from Temple University. Since she was 11, she’s always had a profound love and appreciation for art. She broke the World Record for the largest drawing at 6,450 square feet in a collaboration with Crayola and the Franklin Institute. She is celebrated for her impact and activism in her community through art. Today Dyymond is now an artist, a curator, and an educator who is passionate about educating students on creative expression, cultural heritage and careers in the creative economy.

Letter of Recommendation: Nike Air Force 1s By D. Watkins

“Wake up, dummy!” my cousin yelled through my bedroom door. his was back in 1998, about 7 a.m. “You got the Foot Locker interview! We need that discount! Get up!” Ashy, teenage me fell out of bed and ran to my calendar, navigating through all the sneakers littering my loor: Air Jordans, Air Max 90s, 95s, 97s, the Pippens that say “AIR” on the side, more Uptempos, Duncans, Air Pennys and every other slightly worn Nike in my rotation. He was right, today was the Foot Locker interview — the day that the famous sneaker chain would recognize me as a shoe expert, hire me on the spot, hit me with my own oicial Foot Locker referee shirt and grossly underpay me but try to make it right with the 30 percent discount before marveling at the way I tripled their sales with my uncanny shoe intellect and promote me to the highest level in their company while I was still in high school.

I had never had a job before. In the event that I ever was in a position to get one, my dad always told me to say, “I’d like to develop a sense of independence.” We all know that the real reason we work is for money, but as Pop constantly reminded me, “You gotta play the game.” I planned to play the game that day in a crisp buttonup shirt, some black slacks, and hard bottoms — you know, church shoes. But after 10 minutes of shoe digging and inding only one, I spotted, all the way at the end of the long line of boxed shoes I rarely touched, a fresh pair of white-on-white “Airs.” I threw them on and blasted out the door. Nike Air Force 1s were sacred in my town, and still are. We Baltimoreans call them “Airs” because they’re as important to us as oxygen. My dad ran the streets in his until the fronts crinkled and the seams burst. My older brother and his friends would buy fresh pairs by the dozens with street money, in a bunch of diferent colors

to match their Russell, Champion and Sergio Tacchini tracksuits. Clean Airs and a clean sweatsuit was the East Baltimore uniform. When I arrived at the interview, there was one nervous-looking guy in front of me. From behind, I heard a voice: “You cleaned up for this job, with ya lil’ Airs and button-up on. You think you cute?” “Nay Nay!” I said, turning around. “You never beeped me. What’s up?” “I thought you wanted to be a little drug dealer like your friends?” she said. Nay Nay was two years ahead of me in school. She always had a reason for not dating me: “You too young!” or “hose boys you be with are too crazy!” But here I was, interviewing for jobs. I wrote my beeper number down for her again and watched her walk out of the store. “Mr. Watkins, how you doin’, B!” the store manager said in a heavy New York accent. “Welcome!” I followed him into a little oice at the back of the store, where he complimented my shoes: “I’m gonna get married in a pair of Air 1s, B.” He ofered a common myth about how the world should be thankful that New York popularized the sneaker (New Yorkers are very Christopher Columbus-like — they think they discovered everything). he truth was, the shoe needed Baltimore as much as Baltimore needed the shoe. “Without Baltimore, the Nike Air Force 1 might have faded out of existence,” reads a Nike promo from 2017. “In 1984, two years after its launch, Nike wasn’t planning to continue

production of the shoe. But thanks to Baltimore’s enthusiastic wearers, the AF-1 continued to be made.” Harold Rudo, whose family founded the legendary Baltimore sneaker store Charley Rudo Sports, was getting them delivered by the truckload when he heard that Nike planned to discontinue the shoe. his was in the days before the internet, so businesses like Rudo’s weren’t as focused on what the rest of the world was doing. he local market was everything — and locally, we wanted Airs. “he shoes were blowing out of my store,” Rudo said in a 2007 article in he Baltimore Sun. He lew out to Nike’s headquarters in Portland, Oregon, and “met with the second-in-command.” Airs were one of the most popular shoes in both Rudo’s East and West Baltimore stores. “After a time, Nike decided to send AF1s to the chopping block,” Rochelle Rudo, Harold’s sister, told the Sun. “Harold wouldn’t let that happen.” he Foot Locker manager shook my hand. “You’ll be hearing from me, kid,” he said. “Real talk.” I headed home to let my cousin know that I smashed the interview, and that we had big discounts in our future. On the way, I got a #911 page, so I stopped at a pay phone and hit the number back: It was Nay Nay, asking for a date. When I picked up my cousin, he cut me of before I could tell him about my winning streak. “No time!” he replied, jumping in my car: Two friends wanted to play us in basketball for money, like $300, right now. I looked down at my feet. My fresh white Airs were about to get as crumpled and brown at the seams as my dad’s. We won the game, and I wiped them down as

best I could before my date with Nay Nay, which led to multiple dates, which led to nothing, because she was using high school me to make her 20-something-yearold boyfriend jealous. I never got that Foot Locker job, or any other job in a shoe store, either. But I discovered my connection with Airs, just as my dad, big brother and older guys in the neighborhood did before me. I’m from a place where nothing is permanent — not housing, not family, not freedom — and yet these shoes have always been there: the one sneaker I can hoop in, wear on a date or to a job interview. Twenty years later, and they’re still a part of my uniform.

bio by Me’Shiah Bell

D. Watkins is a New York Times bestselling and award winning author from East Baltimore. He holds a Master’s degree in Education from Johns Hopkins University, and is a professor at the University of Baltimore. Watkins’s work is heavily inspired by his background in Baltimore City. He has published work in The Guardian, Rolling Stone, Salon, and numerous other publications. Watkins’s third book, We Speak For Ourselves, showcases east Baltimore’s Black voices, and was the 2020 selection for the Enoch Pratt Free Library’s One Book Baltimore. He currently lives in Baltimore with his wife and daughter.

Khaliah Deya “Still Life #2”

Untitled By Lady Brion (Brion Gill)

I found beauty in this city when I really embraced it for what it is and started to appreciate the people and places that make it special and not feeding into all the negativity people have to say about the city that raised me. I remember when President Trump called Baltimore a rat-infested mess, I was infuriated because I felt the president should have more respect for the city that I take pride in. So I decided to speak from that vantage point in the following poem for the Homegrown Project: I heard the White House say Baltimore be a mess Be rat-infested And Baltimore be un-phased Cuz who cares what a hater gotta say We were raised on the neglected scraps that we have come to cherish and celebrate his city covered with charisma like crabs smothered in old bay energy low like the Chesapeake way We harbor... healers, hard work and homegrown talent in the heart of the city Downtown don’t hold the soul You gotta search for that through the vacants past the sultry stares beneath the crevices of the crumbling sidewalks

here... wearing Goddess braids door knocker earrings and supernatural swag or New balances, a small white tee, and a scully Draped in three jobs that all seem full time and the pride of children who wear smiles for a living Coursing with ingenuity solutions on the tips of their ingers change scraping the underside of their ingernails Baltimore knows how to get things done Cuz, Baltimore be on the brink And you can’t sink what is said to already be at the bottom so don’t that make us on the rise? We have learned to recycle Broken windows and broken promises into a brighter tomorrow made redlining and white L’s into Black Power sludge and factory into promenade with Fudgery We got churches on every corner Meaning we know prayer and how to receive a blessing Rebuke a devil when approaching Can’t have this joy of mine We are a miracle city that chooses to survive Chooses not to be numb or succumb to the violence Ask Baltimore Ceaseire, why? We press on the way the resilient will always persist determination strapped to our feet hey all report this city dangerous which is to say we ight for ours even when it means making street pharmaceuticals occupational

When loving your family and this city ain’t optional It’s innate Baltimore be sanctuary his place has the most gorgeous kind of ugly unity folded in fragmented shards Scarred and scathed but still here Winded and Withering, but still working With a special kind of strength that emerges from the bleak And don’t need nobody to speak for or about this city.

bio by Me’Shiah Bell

Poetry coach, activist, and spoken word artist Lady Brion has been performing since she was just 12 years old. She received her Bachelor’s degree in Communications from Howard University and her Master’s Degree in Creative Writing & Publishing Arts from the University of Baltimore. She has represented Baltimore in many national slam poetry competitions; She became the 2016 National Poetry Slam Champion and the 2017 Southern Fried Regional Slam Champion. Brion has shared her passion for poetry through DewMore Baltimore, and she has also facilitated impactful poetry workshops in prisons and group homes throughout Maryland. As the Cultural Curator for the Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, Brion advocates for youth leadership to help meet the needs of Black people in Baltimore City.

The Day I Fell in Love With Baltimore (according to 6 year old me) By NIA JUNE

In the summer of 2001, on the 500 block of N Denison St., everything has a beating heart and an appetite for love. Everything is music: my grandmother’s ripe laugh, my aunts, fussy and proud, parading around the kitchen. And us: every sound we make swims through the sky on a wind, illing the block with something warm and homelike. A big boned ice cream truck inches down our street, squeezing its hips between cars on the left and right. Everybody’s front porch is the place to be, a place to gossip, a throne. And somebody is always on the front porch. Like Ms. Vanessa and Mr. Sunny. We exchange our wide smiles and old school manners for the silver change in their pockets.

Nahomy Tewodros, Untitled

SpongeBob ice cream with gumball eyes. Bomb pops and sugar cones. Ranch sunlower seeds and poppers. he alley is crowded with the city’s darkest secrets. But it becomes whatever we need it to be: an Olympic arena, a basketball court, a place to liberate ourselves from the rule of grown ups. Blue tongues and dirty shoes, bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish, we carve our footprints into the ground and slip into the magic of our imagination. Uncle Bug whistles his way to the bar. Lightning bugs mimic our electric eyes as the smell of food gets louder and louder and the sun falls asleep on a row home.

bio by Ashley Morejon

his is my home. In all its catastrophic romance, its sirens and searchlights, Baltimore is still the most beautifully alive and fearless city I have ever known.

NIA JUNE was born in Baltimore, Maryland, where she became an arts educator, dancer, performer, author, and filmmaker. In May 2020, she graduated from Towson University where she earned a full scholarship for “Excellence in Poetry.” She has been a featured performer and guest speaker in a variety of places, and when she is not performing, she focuses on teaching poetry, filmmaking, and dance to the youth. JUNE is the author of Paper Trails of the Undying, a short but compelling collection of poems and photos, in collaboration with photographer Kirby Griffin. JUNE was recognized as “Best Poet of 2020” by Baltimore Magazine. JUNE’s debut film, A Black Girl’s Country, has been featured in many film festivals taking place in Baltimore, Maryland, Houston, Texas, Washington D.C., and Falmouth, England. In 2021, the film was acquired by The Baltimore Museum of Art as a part of their permanent collection.

Dear Mother Baltimore By Erica L. Green

Dear Mother Baltimore, hey told me that in order to survive, I had to leave you. But each time I was shuttled away on I-95, I knew that wasn’t true. hey said that I needed more fostering, more caring. hey said that in the county the air was crisper and the sky brighter, and it would lighten the load that my small shoulders were carrying. hey said that in the county, I could climb higher, through greener grass and stealthier trees. But I longed for the days we heated the house with a stove, and lit dark rooms with a ire. I longed for the concrete that used to scrape up my knees. hey said that in order to thrive I had to leave you behind, and that I had a chance to build a life anew. But every time I came home to you, and had to leave again, I knew that wasn’t true. Life was a struggle, this is to be sure. here were mistakes, but the love was pure. here was loss, but there was laughter. here was neglect, but there was nurturing. here were promises made and broken, but re-made again.

here was tragedy, but there was hope. hey said that the hope wouldn’t last, that I couldn’t trust you. But every time I daydreamed about the life we could have, had you had a chance, I knew that wasn’t true. You see, children are not meant to be torn from their mothers. Not after the irst time when their lifeline to the body that created them is cut, and they make the transition from the warmth of the womb to the warmth of arms. But they said that in order to survive, I had to leave those arms, too. Every cold night after our hugs, I knew that wasn’t true. here were other arms, in the greener, lighter, brighter place No doubt, I appreciate those, too. But everytime I left you, I knew nowhere else would ever do. Because you are me and I am you. And no one will ever love me the way that you do. Love, Eri

bio by Tehle Ross

Erica L. Green is a renowned journalist and Baltimore native whose experience with an incarcerated parent and journey through the foster care system has made her a leading voice on issues facing underserved and underestimated children. She received her Bachelor’s degree in communications and political science from Goucher College, and her Master’s of Science degree in Journalism from Northwestern University. Green was an education reporter covering the Baltimore City School System for The Baltimore Sun before becoming a National Correspondent for The New York Times. Green covers federal education policy for The Times, focusing on how decisions made in the nation’s capital impact children, families, and educators across the country. Green’s education coverage at The Sun and The Times has won more than one dozen local and national journalism awards.

Acknowledgements Special thank you to Sidney homas and Wyatt Oroke for entrusting the CHARM team with this exciting idea and project. We are honored to help bring this book into the world! hanks to Yifan Luo for leading the graphic design and portrait illustration process and for sharing her expertise with our student editors. he cover art was created by Christian Hicks from Commodore John Rodgers Elementary/Middle School. Contributor bios were researched and written by CHARM youth editors, with feedback from contributors themselves.

About CHARM

CHARM: Voices of Baltimore Youth is a literary-arts organization founded on the belief that kids’ voices matter. We are on a mission to support young people as they develop as writers, and provide a platform to amplify their voices. CHARM magazine was founded by a group of teachers and their students in 2013, and has since published 15 publications that feature the poetry, iction, essays, and artwork of over 1,000 students from more than 50 public schools in Baltimore City. CHARM magazine is curated and produced by a dynamic student editorial board, which consists of middle and high schoolers from across Baltimore City. We also oﬀer a host of other programming designed to support young writers and amplify student voices, including in-person and virtual workshops. Check us out at www.charmlitmag.org for more information, and follow us on social media @charmlitmag. Want to get involved? Want to support our work? We welcome your contribution on our website, and your gift is tax deductible. We also oﬀer monthly subscription options at www.patreon.com/charmlitmag.