The Statesman 02-15-21

INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT FEATURES BLACK STUDENT NARRATIVES TO SHOW THAT BLACK LIVES MATTER

BY MAYA BROWN

The year 2020 was a milestone year for national racial unrest and protests. During the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, one student at Stony Brook University made it their mission to show the racial unrest within the campus community.

Last summer, a new Instagram account, @blackatstony, was created as a safe space for Black students, alumni and community members to share their stories of facing racism and discrimination both on and off campus.

The owner of the account, who wishes to remain anonymous to avoid distracting attention from the stories she's working to share, is a female Black junior journalism major. After a few days of running the page, she asked one of her peers, another Black junior journalism major, to help run the account.

“The account was created to bring light into the racial discrimination that occurs on campus and show how often they happen,” the creator said. “Our goal is to eventually demand the administration to address these instances that occur too often and put in the work to make an actual change on campus.”

Under the Instagram posts, the community member’s name — unless they wish to be anonymous — race and association are posted along with their story. Submissions began with about two everyday in June 2020, then grew to ten. Submissions slowed down with the start of the fall semester.

Roughly 80% of the submissions are from Black students and the other 20% are from Asian or Latinx students who have described their experiences witnessing racial bias against their Black friends, peers or roommates. Some entries are people’s personal experiences, whereas others consist of their general thoughts or observations.

Social media has played a large role in raising awareness about the Black Lives Matter movement. The movement itself began online when co-founder Alicia Garza shared the

hashtag #BlackLivesMatter on Twitter after the murder of Trayvon Martin in 2012. Eyewitness accounts of police brutality and racism have surfaced on social media throughout the past years and have helped inform and gather support for the movement.

Since social media provides a large opportunity for engagement, stories are more likely to be circulated and eventually help lead to action, including protests and awareness.

Following the release of the account last summer, it gained 1,000 followers in less than 48 hours, according to the creator. The account currently has about 1,658 followers.

The creator said she was initially surprised at the amount of support and traction the page received.

Oreoluwa Adewale, president of the Stony Brook National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) chapter and a senior political science and Africana studies major, didn’t find the stories on the Instagram account surprising.

“There are so many other things that this school could be doing,” she said. “It's just like it's really frustrating and definitely disheartening to see all that happening.”

The page also started to receive attention from university administration, according to the creator.

“We see how much of an impact these pages can have in terms of pushing the administration to make a response,” the creator said. “When we portray the university in a negative light publicly, that’s when they start to pay attention.”

In terms of the way the university had addressed Black Lives Matter during the summer, the creator felt that Stony Brook made it seem as if they stood in solidarity. However, she doesn't believe that the university has taken enough action to address the concerns of students of color.

Around September, the page posted that although the account owners were absent

from constant posts on Instagram, they were still working behind the scenes to create equitable changes for students of color both on and off campus.

The creator and her co-account owner began meeting with Dr. Judith Brown Clarke, vice president for equity & inclusion and chief diversity officer, to discuss their concerns and possible improvements.

“After having several conversations with Clarke, we can truly say we have big hopes,” the creator said. “Her understanding of diversity and inclusion isn’t performative and she’s willing to do the work it will take to advance the lived experiences of students at Stony Brook for the better.”

Clarke said that reading the stories affirmed that the university has an opportunity to grow.

“Please know, Stony Brook is owning the fact that ‘we can be better’ and is working hard to achieve it,” she said. “We took those stories [on instagram] very seriously and have incorporated the required implicit bias interventions into our diversity, equity and inclusion workshops and trainings.”

Clarke appreciates the account and said that both the questions and discussions from the account were reflective of the Black Lives Matter movement.

“I am a strong advocate for safe places for vulnerable voices,” she said. “I embrace criticism as an important opportunity for growth and efficiency, so reading the various stories gave me specific examples of what, and where it, needed to be immediately addressed.”

The owners of the page are currently working on finding new ways to uplift Black students at Stony Brook University, in order to be a resource.

“The Instagram account provided a safe, virtual community that brought people together with synergy around racism, implicit bias, policing and social justice issues,” Clarke said.

WHITEWASHED HISTORY INHIBITS US FROM LEARNING ABOUT THE PAST

BY MATT VENEZIA

Matt Venezia is a sophomore biology major with a minor in writing.

One of my favorite subjects in high school was history. It was, and still is, fascinating to learn how we as a society got to where we are today and which events shaped us. American history was no different and my United States history course was one I always looked forward to.

Looking back now, it was very obvious from the textbooks I read or lessons I learned that “American” meant “white.”

Any person who had descended from a country outside of western or northern Europe in American history had a qualifier next to their name in the textbooks. Eli Whitney was an African-American, Henry Ford was an American, Thomas Jefferson was an American, Sequoyah was a Native American and so on.

This qualification of individuals was the least offensive part of whitewashing. On the other end of the spectrum, atrocities against Black people, indigenous people, Jews and other racial and religious minorities were not treaded on by any of my teachers or taught in my textbooks. There were no substantive discussions on slavery or the desolation of indigenous lands and peoples — America’s two original sins. The enslavement of an entire group of people and the near destruction of another were not considered resulting from anything but unjust policies that, today, have no bearing on our future.

They were considered merely a stain of our past.

Today, we are still struggling with the damaging effects of our history. After all, it is the reason we are where we are right now. The Black Lives Matter movement has pushed people of color to the front and center of our national discourse. If we as a nation are to listen to them, our view of slavery cannot be that it was “unjust” or “wrong.” Those are the obvious statements to make. The difficulty comes in reconciling with our collective past and understanding that those stains are still affecting millions of people.

Racial tension in the United States has reached a boiling point. It’s no secret that white supremacy has been on the rise since Charlottesville in 2017.

The racial underpinnings of politics today are clear.

The birther theory popularized by former president and Twitter user Donald Trump, who claimed that then-President Barack Obama was not born in America, was the center of many political movements in the years leading up to his election to the presidency.

Trump’s rhetoric throughout his time in office and the rhetoric of pundits like Laura Ingraham and Candace Owens have their basis in race.

Those same racial underpinnings are evident in the Confederate flag that was flown in our Capitol during the insurrection in January, just as it is in the monuments of Robert E. Lee and other Confederate generals still standing around the United States.

These racial underpinnings manifest in policy as well. Segregation and Jim Crow laws ended

less than 60 years ago. Indigenous people did not have the right to vote in every state until 1962.

Residential districts were redlined, a process that made Black families less eligible for loans, until the late 1990s.

Even today, Black people are disproportionately more likely to end up in prison as opposed to every other race in the United States; one in every three Black men will end up in prison in his lifetime in the United States. These policies affect people directly, especially Black families, and have led to cycles of poverty for many Black families in the United States. These cycles of oppression also extend to indigenous reservations, where indigenous people face some of the highest levels of poverty in the United States.

The foundation for policies to replace and rectify those of the past must be built on education.

Whitewashing our history will not achieve justice for all in the United States. Ensuring that young students do not talk extensively about slavery is ensuring these cycles of poverty will continue.

To break them will take an enormous national effort. But before we can take any action in the present, we have to talk about the past. Not the whitewashed version; the real American history of brutal slavery and the destruction of hundreds of indigenous cultures. We must own up our moments of national shame to break the cycles of oppression that exist today, and it all starts with a conversation in history class.

WHAT IT REALLY MEANS TO BE AN ALLY

BY JUSTIN CHASSIN

Justin Chassin is a senior computer science and applied math and statistics dual major.

In conversations with friends and family about racial inequality over the past year, one thing I noticed was a resistance to understanding the pain of Black Americans and the reason behind protesting for justice.

Arguments that start with, “But what about Black on Black crime?” or “But police officers need to have these powers,” have been said far too frequently.

What isn’t talked about is qualified immunity, a law that protects police officers from legal accountability for crimes so long as it does not violate clearly established statutory or constitutional rights.

This is a law with a track record of crimes rooted in racial biases that have been weaponized against marginalized groups while allowing police officers to get away with zero accountability.

Discussions therefore miss this question: “What does it feel like to grow up knowing that the criminal justice system is not on your side?”

When this perspective is not addressed, it makes it difficult to be effective allies to those experiencing discrimination.

To put it simply, an allyship is when someone from outside a marginalized group advocates for those in that group at both the interpersonal and intrapersonal level. A key feature of being an ally is to use your voice and privilege to support marginalized groups both socially and politically.

When we break it down, productive allyship is a continuous process of three qualities: perspective, learning and action.

There are certain perspectives you will never completely grasp because they lack firsthand experience. If you are not a member of these marginalized groups, they can never fully understand the day-to-day struggles they face.

In a way, allies should be like students who attempt to listen closely and ask questions to expand their understanding of those experiences.

Since one of the key components of allyship is to listen, acknowledging that you are not an expert or spokesperson for conveying the Black American experience is crucial. But how the mic is passed is just as important.

To make sure that people don’t have to relive traumatic moments, you should independently seek sources themselves. Books, podcasts and articles can help you gain insight into race relations without forcing someone else to retell their experiences.

For an ally to effectively listen, they also must actively reflect on and confront their own biases that can paint how they view stories before they are even told.

When you read or hear about someone’s story, think about your own thought process. Ask yourself why you feel a certain way. If this surprises you, ask yourself, again, why? Is it because you have never experienced this or perhaps haven’t heard about it before? Critically questioning what you know and don’t know grows not only your self-consciousness but also awareness for other peoples’ experiences.

This involves facing an uncomfortable truth — unconscious biases may hurt people without you even realizing it.

Comments such as “you are just playing the race card” are mechanisms that not only divert discomfort about race, but defend biases that manifest in dangerous ways.

Stereotypes that portray Black men as “dangerous” are what got two Black men arrested for simply being at a Starbucks.

These internalized stereotypes can cause people to cross the street because they fear a harmless group and even worse, cause the death of George Floyd and countless others whose wrongful deaths are even debated.

We have to confront our prejudices, no matter how uncomfortable they are. In taking action, we need to think about why we are going to create a certain impact and how it could affect people in turn.

When intent to help is self-motivated to increase “social capital,” “performative allyship” can not only fall flat but be harmful. The nature of this usually involves minimum surface-level efforts to “checkoff” a box and an inconsideration for the impact they have on movements and individuals.

An example of this was Blackout Tuesday. While people were trying to show signs of solidarity, feeds became filled with black squares that took away a platform from helpful, educational resources.

Productive and authentic allyship requires a careful cycle of understanding your own perspective and biases, learning and taking action. Throughout the process, it is key to remember that the spotlight and attention should not only be on the ally themselves, but on how they can understand the issues, attempt to transfer power and challenge biases.

STONY BROOK USG RECKONS WITH THE PASSING OF BLACK ICONS DURING BLACK HISTORY MONTH INITIATIVE

BY LAJIERE BLAKE

Maia Gomis, the Assistant to the Vice President of Student Life, is one of the brains behind the Stony Brook Undergraduate Student Government’s new Instagram series, which, in honor of Black History Month, is posting tributes to Black icons who have recently passed away.

“Black History is not just for one month, it’s forever,” Gomis, a senior biology major and Africana studies minor, said.

Over the last year, many Black people of prominence have died. From Cicely Tyson, MF DOOM, Andre Harrell to Mary Wilson, the point remains the same — the Black community especially is dealing with the loss of powerful icons. Members of USG, aware of this, decided to act. With the Instagram initiative, the hope was to give space for reflection, a space many students of color need during this tumultuous time.

It was decided that a total of four people would be honored on the page, one for every Friday of the month. With so many lives lost, it was hard to pick who those would be. The decision to include Pop Smoke was easy.

"We were supposed to get him as a concert person," Gomis said. Last year, the artist was supposed to be one of the headliners for the annual Brookfest concert, which was canceled due to the pandemic.

Choosing the other figures proved more difficult. Gomis explained the challenge.

“There's so many more people we would like to add but because there were so little chances to post people it was kind of like, okay, who is it that people felt like was the biggest loss?” she said.

So far, Kobe and Gianna Bryant, as well as Pop Smoke, are the only people on the page.

The images have garnered more than 500 likes combined. Instagram user @cxnvallariamajalis

left the comment, “Performative activism, we love to see it,” under the photo of Pop Smoke.

USG welcomed the critique, writing in part, “We’d appreciate feedback, and encourage you to email us with potential suggestions and ideas that showcase advocacy better.”

The initiative may not be enough for some, but to USG, it’s a thoughtful dedication from a coalition of students who, due to a pandemic, can't do things as they have before. "This year, it's kind of limiting again, because COVID kind of sucks... I think that right now, the best we can do is stay virtual," Gomis said.

Senior English and creative writing major Jolena Podolsky is part of that coalition. Podolsky is the vice president of communications at USG and recognizes that the loss of these prominent individuals is felt by all, especially in ways that we can not visualize. USG is honoring more than just Black musicians and athletes on their Instagram page, but people who left lasting change in the United States. Segregation and civil rights issues still exist but have been mitigated by the work of many, like the late John Lewis.

“Though it's a shame that we had these issues in America, we're still grateful for those who took action against it and fought for what we have now,” Podolsky said. “Sometimes these physical contributions … we may not see it, but we're living in it.”

Despite their deaths, the impact these leaders have had on the Black community has not disappeared. Sophomore biology major Chris Jean, who is also the assistant to the executive vice president of USG, agrees that it is more than just the physical objects they have left behind, “but it's the lasting impact and the feelings they made us feel when they were still here. It's like

Black History Month isn't a time to think about the past more. I see it more as a celebration of their impact.”

Their influence is long-lasting in a multitude of ways. For Gomis, their imprint is directly reflected in the way Black children see themselves. Many of these prolific Black artists were trailblazers in their respective fields, breaking down barriers and providing diverse representation for many children.

“Kids can just be kids,” Gomis said. No longer do they feel pressured to conform to a specific form of Blackness.

Senior political science major and journalism and media arts minor Kiara Arias was one of those kids. Defining herself in a predominantly white high school was hard — and the media’s portrayal of Black people did not help.

“I didn't have, anyone really in the media, or in books, movies that I could really look to and be like, wow, they're beautiful, they're intelligent,” Arias said.

Arias enjoys further exploring these tough conversations. “Stony Speaks” is an Instagram Live series hosted by Arias on the USG Instagram page. The intimate discussions range from topics including racism within industries like fashion, to the representation of South Asians in the United States. It is another meaningful way USG has created space for necessary rumination.

Clearly, USG has more in store to serve the diverse Stony Brook University community. USG will continue to host various events, posted to their social media pages.

“When it comes to USGS work, this is not just for February. Obviously, there's a lot more amplification because it is Black History Month,” Podolsky said.

CAMPUS NAACP CHAPTER PRESIDENT FOCUSES ON PROVIDING HER BLACK PEERS WITH SUPPORT

BY MAYA BROWN

To Oreoluwa Adewale, Black Lives Matter is more than another hashtag or a movement.

It is about being allowed to be Black without exception.

Adewale is a senior political science and Africana studies major, and president of the Stony Brook Chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). The NAACP promotes diversity and inclusion and aims to educate about the marginalization of people, while providing a safe space for discussion.

“A lot of people in our community are raised to survive, instead of being raised to be successful,” Adewale said. “Black lives matter is really just being able to just live your life without fear of having to die for no reason.”

Adewale began her journey with the NAACP as the membership recruiter chair during her sophomore year. At the time, she had never considered running for president or having a large role in the organization.

However, many members on the e-board saw leadership qualities within her that would make her an essential component of the NAACP. “It ended up being a really great experience,” she said. “I just had so many ideas for the club and there were so many things that I wanted to fix.

There was a lot of potential, so I took advantage of it. Now people know that we have a NAACP on campus.”

Through the NAACP, she continued to host consistent general body meetings, heavily engaged the organization on social media and promoted the organization as a safe space for Black students.

Goka Lee-Maeba, a senior psychology major and member of the NAACP, emphasized how Adewale has brought the NAACP recognition throughout campus and has taken the chapter to “greater heights.”

“It was clear to the members of the organization, including myself, that Ore needed to be president,” Lee-Maeba said. “We all saw that she cared so deeply for the organization and wanted it to thrive.”

Lee-Maeba has been friends with Adewale since they met during her freshman year of college. She emphasized the role that Adewale has played as an activist and leader in the Black community on campus.

“With everything she does, it is so clear that she cares about Black people and their lives,” Lee-Maeba said. “She is a natural born leader and an activist; she advocates for under-represented people and will always call out something or someone when she sees or hears injustice.”

Last fall, Adewale came up with the idea of holding a Black Lives Matter protest on campus, since COVID-19 had restricted many from attending protests over the summer. The protest was hosted by both the NAACP and the Black Student Athlete Huddle.

“It was a huge success and so many students thanked us for giving them the chance to be able to protest and use their voice to help the movement,” Lee-Maeba said.

Through the NAACP as a whole, Black students have been able to share their voice

openly in various spaces, whether it's through general body meetings or events. Adewale said that she loves that there are several chapters of the NAACP and how campus chapters can have different meanings. For the Stony Brook chapter of the NAACP, the organization is a home for students of color, according to Adewale.

“On Stony Brook’s campus, I definitely feel like we're an avenue for students to express themselves and I want that to be more of our job description as they [the NAACP] continue on even when I'm not here,” she said. “It’s a space for Black students to just say what they have to say.”

One of Adewale’s favorite parts about the NAACP is when people come to general student body meetings and they are extremely honest about how they feel in discussions, regardless if

other people agree or not. When Black students share stories of about injustices that they may have faced on campus during meetings, the NAACP then supports their statement and reports it to the school’s administration, if the student wishes them to do so.

Adewale herself said she has faced numerous accounts of injustice and discrimination on campus, and said that Stony Brook does not feel like a safe space for Black students.

“I think it's a lot of talk and no action,” she said. “In my four years there really has been no genuine change here and the retention for Black students, staff and faculty here is atrocious. A lot of the time, we feel unsafe.”

For example, on one night in 2018 a group of Black students in the library was asked to leave because some people thought they were being too loud — Adewale included. After refusing to leave, the police were called and one of the Black students explained that the situation was a form of discrimination.

In terms of what can be done at Stony Brook to help Black students, Adewale said that accountability is important, especially when multiple students, staff and faculty are coming forward with stories about seeing racism on throughout the campus.

“It will get reported and nothing happens or it's kind of just like the people who are reporting it get gaslit,” Adewale said. “There are also certain situations that I feel the cultural clubs don't get enough support. We're not here for tokenism and a lot of the time, it feels like we're just here to take pictures.”

In the country as a whole, Adewale believes that Black people have been neglected for years. She said that it’s disheartening to see hateful people refuse to believe that white supremacy is real, even with a substantial amount of evidence.

“This country needs to do a lot better for the people that are actually working for it,” she said.

When she first heard about George Floyd, a 46-year-old Black man from Minneapolis who was killed on May 25 after a police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes during an arrest, Adewale was not surprised at all.

She said that his death in combination with many reactions to the news, made her frustrated.

However, she turned her anger into activism and helped plan a protest in her hometown of Wheatley Heights on Long Island.

Adewale’s activism does not just end with the NAACP. Adewale is also the co-founder and vice president of the Stony Brook Chapter of the National Black Law Students Association (NBLSA), which works to increase the number of culturally responsible Black attorneys. She has also been a resident assistant in Tubman Hall since her sophomore year, where she has been consistently decorating her hallway with Black exhibits for Black History Month.

“Oreoluwa has shown activism for Black Lives Matter through educating others and keeping people informed through the platform of social media about issues that are affecting the Black community,” Jhordyne Donaldson, a junior economics and sociology double major and e-board member of the NBLSA, said.

“Even the fact that she is able to lead and be resourceful to two major clubs on Stony Brooks campus, which have a high population of Black students, is one way she demonstrates activism, as she continues to elevate the Black students in all aspects of their life.”

Adewale is also the head cultural officer with the African Students Union, a member of the Student African American Sisterhood and the student liaison with the Black and Latino Alumni Network, which focuses on discussion around issues that Black students face on campus.

Even with all of the clubs and organizations that she has joined that focus on providing support for Black students on campus, Adewale still feels that there is much more work to be done.

“I'm involved in a lot of things and it's sad that I don't feel like much has changed on this campus,” she said.

“It's hard for me to see positivity in our [the Black community’s] future because I don't think that this school fights for us. And when you're only fighting for yourself, other people can just do whatever to you. So, Stony Brook: Get it together.”

“DOES IT SURPRISE ME? NO”: MEMBERS OF THE SBU COMMUNITY COMMENT ON LACK OF BLACK MEMORIALIZATION

BY STEVEN KEEHNER

Of Stony Brook University’s 64 named buildings and spaces, only four Black historical figures — Arturo Alfonso Schomburg, Jimi Hendrix, Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman — are memorialized, according to a list compiled by the university’s archivist.

As sociology professor Dr. Crystal Fleming explains, Stony Brook University’s lack of Black memorialization shows a much deeper insight into racial inequality on campus.

“When we look at the underrepresentation of not just Black people but indigenous people from the highest positions of leadership and the realities of racism that many of our Black students, faculty and staff are still dealing with, it does not surprise me we don’t see more representation and inclusion of Black people in our monuments on campus,” Fleming said.

Dr. Robert Chase, an associate professor of history, expressed a very similar sentiment.

“The history of America is one where public memory is overwritten with narratives that too often valorize powerful people who were weighed over and often against [people of color],” Chase said.

From student-led petitions to roundtable discussions, the renaming of buildings has been debated and discussed on campus since this past summer. Following the months of protests related to the Black Lives Matter movement, Stony Brook University announced in a July 21 statement the formation of the Renaming Buildings, Spaces and Structures Ad Hoc Committee.

“I think that activists have a keen grasp of history and are interested in making those connections to the present,” Chase said. “It’s only natural then that they look at the monuments of the museum, the building names and see that as a part of a greater racial inequality that affects their day-to-day lives.”

He explained that there comes a point where memorialization can only serve as a temporary solution to the greater problem of societal inequity.

Students have expressed similar thoughts.

Reimy Concepcion, a senior English major and secretary of the Black Women’s Association, explained that as a minority in such a large student body, the feelings of isolation are impossible to ignore.

“I saw how [Stony Brook] took all these initiatives for these other student populations and it makes you feel like you’re drowning in the sea,” Concepcion said. “That is how I felt often — like maybe I should just transfer somewhere like in the city where I know they’re more students of my color. But I think it would really provide that recognition that [Black students] are definitely looking for.”

Concepcion expressed a desire to see Stony Brook University move toward “meaningful change,” such as a dedicated space for Black students to host events/club meetings.

“We have an LGBTQ center, and I thought that was a great idea — it gives LGBTQ students that reassurance from Stony Brook like, ‘We see you, and we hear you. We know that you have not been the most accepted by our society, but we’re here to let you know that we’re different from everyone else,’” Concepcion said.

Chase recommended that the university should look to create discussion on historical Black figures through academia.

“I would bet that most students do not know who Frederick Douglass was,” Chase said. “As a university, if we truly want to embrace a notion of broader racial equality, we ought to have a program that every incoming freshman would read one book a year; we could read something on the name of the building that we’ve designated as something to honor.”

His suggestions also included possible trips to the Schomburg Center in New York City, named after Schomburg who is considered the “Father of Black History” and was integral to the Harlem Renaissance movement.

As Fleming emphasized, names only carry so much weight.

“I’m a scholar of commemoration and collective memories so, of course, I have written about and sometimes speak about and still have an interest in questions of collective memory,” she said. “But it’s important to move beyond visual or commemorative representation and think about actual Black people.”

Citing her experience working with Black and Jewish students and groups, she said how people are treated is worth more than just representation.

“I would ask, what is the point of naming a building after an African American? What is the point? Is it only to honor the past, or is it to inspire anti-racist action? It should be the latter,” Fleming said. “It shouldn’t just be about representation and allowing a university to brand itself as diverse and inclusive, without doing the work of actually addressing how Black people, both on campus and in the broader community, are treated by the University.”

DEFUND THE POLICE BECAUSE SOCIETY SHOULD REASSESS OUR VALUES IF BLACK LIVES REALLY MATTER

BY MAYA BROWN

Maya Brown, assistant news editor, is a junior journalism major with a minor in political science.

Every time I see a blue lives matter flag wavering in the wake of a cruel Black death, my stomach begins to compress. I cannot help myself from tracing down the complicated, yet broken system that is law enforcement in this country.

Months of increased momentum of the Black Lives Matter movement, daily protests and thousands demanding justice for George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and the long list of Black people who have been wrongfully killed, have led to many wanting the same thing — to defund the police.

Let’s be clear about one thing: policing has never been a neutral, non-racist institution. To understand the racial injustices that bleed into law enforcement today, we must first go back to the roots of why it was created. The first U.S. city police department was a slave patrol.

In the South, specifically in the Carolina colonies back in 1704, law enforcement was tasked with chasing down enslaved people who had run away and putting an end to possible slave revolts.

After centuries of revolutionizing race relations in America, law enforcement remains a threat to Black people. The risk of being killed by police force is highest among Black men, who face about a one in 1,000 chance of being killed by police over their lifetime.

There aren’t just a “few bad apples” within the police force. It’s the system, itself. An important thing to also remember is that George Floyd was not the first. Breonna Taylor was not the first. Black individuals have been targeted and executed at the hands of police since the institution’s inception.

Even though calls for police reform have been ongoing, Black people are tired of nothing being done to address police brutality. I, as a Black person, am tired of seeing Black people die for being targeted due to the color of their skin.

Defunding the police has been a topic of controversy over the past year, and while there are varying explanations to define what it looks like, let’s not forget its common goal: Black lives matter.

Defunding the police does not mean abolishing the police department or having zero form of law enforcement. It means to, instead, reallocate funds to social services within communities across the nation.

The U.S. has one of the highest funded law enforcements in the world. Since the war on drugs under the Reagan administration, police funding has increased by more than 200% from 1980. Police budgets throughout the country range from over $100 million a year to $5 billion a year, according to a 24/7 Wall St. special report in 2020. This excessive funding is a problem because law enforcement spending should not be higher than social services, especially if the system has proven to be discriminatory.

What many forget is that the extent at which crime happens in a given community directly correlates to the number of resources that are invested into that community. Underlying conditions that contribute to crime include homelessness, poverty and poor public health. Defunding the police and prioritizing funding into social resources that truly matter, will address many societal problems and lead to a lower crime rate.

For example, if funds are taken away from a local police department, that money could instead be reallocated towards schools, social services and

affordable housing. Some reasons we have youth-related crime are because of undereducation and a lack of housing for those who are most vulnerable to falling through the cracks. Readjusting county, city and state budgeting for public services to focus on supporting school counseling and housing needs would lower the crime rate and help end inequality at the source. This is an idea that is also shared by doctoral candidate Phillip McHarris and strategist Thenjiwe McHarris.

Another point I cannot stress enough is that police officers are also not always fit for their specific calls for service. In many cases involving substance abuse, domestic violence and mental health crises, police officers handle these situations even though they aren’t always professionally trained to do so. Mental health professionals, like counselors, are better equipped to deal with mental health crises, yet they are not always called to remedy these types of situations.

Last March, Daniel Prude, a Black man who was having a psychotic episode, died after Rochester police officers placed a mesh hood over his head. This case is not solely unique to Prude, however. In 2018, police shot and killed about 25% of people who were experiencing a mental health crisis.

Prude’s death is an example of why police should not serve as our first-line responders to mental health crises, as they’re not always adequately trained to deal with such situations. The harsh reality is that police brutality will remain until we implement an expansive, medically-informed mental health response.

This can begin when the state first funds mental health professionals to protect and even save lives that are at risk.

The momentum of defunding the police has also brought around genuine change since last year.

Los Angeles Mayor Eric Garcetti pledged to reduce the LAPD’s almost $2 billion budget by as much as $150 million and redirect the money to health and education programs. In Boston, Mayor Marty Walsh announced $12 million from the police budget would be reallocated to social services, including programs aimed at reducing inequality in the city. Money will instead go towards violence prevention, language access, food security, immigrant advancement and other services that will foster neighborhoods.

In New York, the City Council and Mayor Bill de Blasio passed a budget last June that shifts $1 billion away from the $6 billion budget of the NYC police department.

These were steps towards the right direction, and we have to continue to defund police departments everywhere because change happens systematically.

Nothing will be accomplished for Black people if only a single local police department is defunded. The country needs to reform the entire body of law enforcement and analyze if the system is doing what it is intended to do — to protect and serve.

Now that we addressed the goal of this movement, the pressing question becomes: What happens after it is brought into the national spotlight? I am tired of seeing a movement in the shape of a tsunami turn into little droplets with no momentum.

Black communities deserve better. They deserve reinvestment. Why would we continue to fund a broken system that is not working? Defunding the police is vital for America to say aloud, Black lives matter, with conviction.

RAP CONTINUES TO EMPOWER AND PUSH DISCOURSE AROUND RACE RELATIONS IN AMERICA

BY CATALINA BENAVIDES

Catalina Benavides is a first semester graduate student in the Master of Arts in Teaching English program.

In 2017, I had written a paper for an English class entitled “Martin, Malcolm, & Rap Music” about how rap music today reflects the messages of both Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. I argued that, if not always, rappers have used their platforms and lyrical talent to express to their audiences that the progress for the Black community has yet to be substantial — the fight for equal rights is not over.

With the unfortunate death of George Floyd, which was recorded for all the world to watch in terror, the feelings of loss and despair have only grown for Black Americans in the past year. These feelings have become magnified as more lives are being affected. Breonna Taylor's life was stolen from her in her very own home. Jacob Blake's life was changed forever as the world watched him get shot in the back while he tried to enter his own vehicle, leaving him paralyzed. Rayshard Brooks was shot in the back after initially falling asleep in his car. The pain of Black America had bled into the streets of this country and beyond with the response of protesters supporting the Black Lives Matter movement.

It is now 2021 and rap music is still one of the prominent forms of educating and motivating Black Americans to keep fighting.

Tracks, like “Land of the Free” by Joey Bada$$, call out the injustices that America has inflicted against the Black community and reminds community members to pay attention to the history of mistreatment.

From my experience listening to his work, Joey Bada$$ raps with the hopes that his audience, or the Black community, will work together to fight for racial equality and justice.

This ongoing healing, while slow and fragile, inspires Black creatives to produce art, music and other forms of expression to lift their voices.

Many rappers responded with their own songs, like Meek Mill's “Otherside of America” or Lil Baby's “The Bigger Picture,” which both reflect upon this current point in time and the history of being Black in America. Both artists echo the messages of civil rights leaders of the past and present — messages that need to still be heard.

In “The Bigger Picture," Lil Baby raps, “This was a dream/Now we got the power that we need to have/They don't want us with it and that's why they mad,” to express how the dream that MLK once shared is still under attack by "they" or white supremacists.

Lil Baby’s rap is significant because not only does he describe life as a Black man, but he also uses his platform to inspire Black Americans to fight back. He uses his fame to shed light on political realities and empower his listeners to protest and advocate for themselves.

Meek Mill's “Otherside of America” begins with the harsh words of former President Donald Trump: “You're living in poverty. Your schools are no good. You have no jobs. 58% of your youth is unemployed.

What the hell do you have to lose?” These statements make it seem like Black America is at fault, when in reality, white America has enslaved and redlined Black communities, and criminalized Black folks for minor offenses.

Meek Mill raps about the realities of the Black community as they grow up in a country that does not account for them by shedding light on the all too common struggles that Black children face, from instability at home, food insecurity and a general lack of resources their communities have been given by those in power.

Through his music, Meek Mill is narrating the daily lives of Black Americans with his own experience and the experiences of those he knows. By narrating these realities, he adds dimension to the injustices that we can no longer allow to continue. His music not only empowers Black Americans but also inspires them to work towards a brighter future by seeing how someone who, despite the similar obstacles they currently face, prevails in the pursuit of justice.

Rap has always been a vehicle for political commentary, from N.W.A.’s 1988 hit “F*** the Police” to J. Cole’s “Neighbors” and “4 Your Eyez Only.” Rap is more than music, it’s poetry — an art created through the manipulation of words.

Ralph Ellison's “Invisible Man,” published in 1952, could easily be connected to many of the events experienced by the men in these rap songs, so why shouldn't the songs be examined in the same way for their lyrical value and poetic nature? Ellison wrote of the African American experience in the 20th century in order to reveal how race is used to define individuals from the white American gaze, instead of by their own potentials and capabilities. Ellison’s narrator moves through the world as a shadow because society has rendered his identity meaningless.

Like Ellison’s narrator, rappers use their music to share their experiences growing up and moving through a prejudiced society that still has a long way to go today. Both mediums encourage their readers and listeners to change this reality, to change the system, to change the future.

The visibility of an entire community has been veiled, and the deaths of Black lives all across the country have shown that. However, we should never forget that the mission of the BLM movement and that the uplifting of all Black voices, in song or any other artistic medium, is necessary and should continue to grow in volume for all to hear and to act in unity towards a more equal America.

THE FIGHT FOR EQUALITY INSPIRES CHAMPIONS OF CHANGE IN THE SPORTS COMMUNITY

BY AMAYA MCDONALD

Activism has not always been welcome in the sports community. In 1968, track athletes John Wesley Carlos and Tommie Smith were condemned for raising Black Power salutes on the victory podium after a race in the summer Olympic games. In 2016, football quarterback Colin Kaepernick was fired from the San Francisco 49’ers after kneeling while the National Anthem played at the start of a National Football League game. In 2018, basketball all-star Lebron James was told to “shut up and dribble” by journalist Laura Ingraham after speaking about racism in an interview with ESPN. Now, following the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement in the summer of 2020, athletes have become noticeably more vocal when it comes to addressing systematic and systemic racism in the United States.

The killing of George Floyd in May 2020 allowed Americans of all backgrounds to witness an act of police brutality and gave some insight into the injustices faced by Black Americans on a daily basis. Floyd’s wrongful death galvanized a new sense of urgency across the country, motivating large corporations, universities and sports teams on all levels to pledge their commitment to fighting systematic and systemic racism.

Stony Brook Athletics has made a commitment to celebrating “the unique identities of student-athletes, coaches and staff” and has created a Diversity and Inclusion Committee to provide opportunities “for shared understanding and expression around race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion and socioeconomic background.”

In Dec. 2020, Stony Brook University and other institutions in the America East Conference reasserted their “commitment to help end racial inequality and promote social justice.”

Stony Brook Football Team Cornerback Coach, Diamond Weaver, said the Stony Brook Athletic Director, Shawn Heilbron, has made it a mission to make sure conversations surrounding diversity and inclusion are continued following the school’s pledge to celebrate diversity. “[Helibron]’s a man of action,” Weaver said. “We’ve created diversity and inclusion committees … Myself and a few other coaches who are African American had been selected to do professional development.”

After attending a weekend-long virtual professional development event, Weaver shared ideas that could help Stony Brook University be successful in its mission to support students of underrepresented groups.

“We’re empowering our student-athletes to have a voice, making sure that they feel represented. We're having all these conversations, which is key,” Weaver said. “I feel pretty good about where we stand as an athletic community at Stony Brook and how we’re continuing to have conversations and putting action behind it.”

One successful example of student empowerment supported by Stony Brook Athletics is the Black Student-Athlete HUDDLE, more casually referred to as “The Huddle.”

Junior multidisciplinary studies major Kyria Moore is part of Stony Brook University’s women’s track and field team and is a steering committee member of the Black Student-Athlete HUDDLE. “We plan Huddle events and help lead Huddle meetings. We also collaborate with other studentathlete leadership groups and other Black student organizations on campus,” Moore said. “Last semester we led a protest on campus with the NAACP. We had a great turnout with athletes and faculty all across the school.”

The shot-putter spoke to the Black student-athlete experience and the way it differs from that of a white student-athlete.

“If you’re in a sport that is predominantly white, your experience will definitely be different,” Moore said. “You may be seen as ‘only an athlete’ and people may use that to their advantage … Some people may see you as an athlete and in truth, you want to be more of an activist, but your voice may not be heard in that way.”

This reality is faced by Black people in and out of the sports community and highlights the need for support and understanding from coaches, teachers and administrators that are responsible for the development of their students, who may later find themselves in a position to enact change.

Partnered with the America East Conference and dedicated to developing leaders is the Ross Initiative in Sports for Equality (RISE) — a nonprofit organization dedicated to educating

and empowering the sports community to “eliminate racial discrimination, champion social justice and improve race relations.”

RISE’s partnership with America East began in 2019. The organization’s CEO, Diahann Billings-Burford, visited Stony Brook University in Feb. 2020 to discuss strategies to advance diversity, inclusion and equity on campus.

In an interview with The Statesman, RISE’s Senior Director of Curriculum, Dr. Collin Willams Jr., said, “At RISE, we use sports as a way to address issues of social justice. We also are seeking to educate and empower the entire sports community about how to be ‘champions of change’ around these issues.”

In partnership with a wide variety of companies from the National Basketball Association to Stony Brook University, RISE aims to teach skills like conflict resolution, active listening and perspective-taking, or the ability to consider a situation from another point of view. These skills will allow participants to start difficult conversations about race and inclusivity in positive, productive ways.

“We really seek to develop leaders in various spaces,” Williams said. “The hope is that we teach you to provide the skills, necessary curriculum and the practice so that the coaches, the staff, the student-athletes and individuals on campus are able to serve and address these issues [surrounding diversity and inclusion.]”

The RISE curriculum is interactive and based on experiential learning. The dialoguedriven trainings hosted by the organization are designed to encourage participants to empathize with others, reflect on their own experiences and biases and think differently.

“We have to continue to educate ourselves, and we have to continue to educate our peers of a different racial background,” Weaver said.

“RISE gives opportunities for us to do that.

Continuing to create uncomfortable dialogue and talk about those topics and continuing that education is the key piece. Organizations like RISE and the Black Student-Athlete HUDDLE create those conversations, and I think that’s the start.”

SBU PANEL DELVES INTO MENTAL HEALTH BARRIERS FOR THE BLACK COMMUNITY

BY NIKI NASSIRI

Stony Brook University’s School of Health Technology and Management hosted a panel discussing the stigmatization of mental illness in the Black community on Feb. 11.

The panel, which was held on Zoom, was part of the school’s Office of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion’s Black History Month celebration.

The office chose mental health as their topic, specifically focusing on Black people’s experiences with the stigmas surrounding therapy and mental health care. Twenty-five students, staff and faculty attended the event.

The event comes during the worldwide Black Lives Matter movement, which has shined a spotlight on healthcare inequities and police brutality that Black people face daily. Through their research in 2015, The Journal of Healthcare for Poor and Underserved found that Black American men being treated for depression face treatment disparities including misdiagnosis, racism and cultural mistrust.

The panelists for the event were Deputy Director for Strategic Initiatives at the Association for Mental Health & Wellness Anne Marie Montijo, Broadhollow Psychotherapy owner and clinician Sheri-Ann Best and former Assistant Dean for Multicultural Affairs Jarvis Watson. Robbye Kinkade, the director of diversity, equity and inclusion for the School of Health Technology and Management, moderated the panel.

“As shared by our panelists, many Black folks are raised to keep feelings that may be misconstrued as weakness, to oneself for fear of being perceived as weak,” Kinkade wrote in an email to The Statesman. “In addition, there has been a longstanding and legitimate mistrust of the ‘healthcare system’ in the U.S. based on the damaging, unethical, and inequitable treatment of Blacks.”

Montijo, a licensed social worker and the deputy director for strategic initiatives at the Association for Mental Health and Wellness, brought up the lack of diversity within psychiatry and therapy. According to the American Psychiatric Association’s Center for Workforce Studies, 86% of psychologists are white. Only 4% are Black.

She also discussed inherent biases surrounding Black men that may affect the quality of treatment they receive from a non-Black mental healthcare worker.

“It’s long overdue that we address this issue,” Montijo said.

A clinician for seven years before specializing in trauma therapy, Best said that a wonderful part of her job was that she could “bring hope to the table.” She raised the topic of intergenerational trauma amongst Black people that could make them more susceptible to illnesses like anxiety and depression. Best noted that during the period of American slavery, runaway slaves were diagnosed with a mental illness called drapetomania, as an explanation for their unwillingness to be enslaved.

“Today we wonder why there’s a hesitancy for Black people to go to therapy,” Best said.

Only one in three Black adults who need mental healthcare will receive it, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness.

Black college students face specific mental health care struggles, and Watson, now the director of diversity, equity and inclusion at the School of Visual Arts, has had almost 20 years of experience advocating for marginalized students and their health. He touched on building trust with students and maintaining that relationship.

Watson said he believes that the systemic oppression of Black students in the education system and the media portraying Black youth in certain ways might discourage students from seeking help.

“You’re going to develop some sort of PTSD or trauma by thinking I’m going to get through this the best I can,” Watson said about students of color. “You’re not a machine or superhero.”

During the second part of the event, Kinkade asked the panelists several questions about the effect of microaggressions on mental health, why men in particular avoid therapy, intergenerational trauma and the myth of the “strong Black woman.”

The panelists identified all these problems as layered and complex because of systemic inequalities. In her own practice, Best recognizes that microaggressions take an everyday toll on people of color. To help her patients, Best explains to them that therapy is a process and "a place to reflect" on harmful things that happen in their lives.

In Watson's experience as an educator, he's identified many reasons why Black men might avoid therapy. He said many Black men fear appearing weak or needing pity, or realize that the people they want to get help from look like their oppressors, since most therapists are white. Black male role models, diverse learning

environments and healthy peer relationships are all key to fixing this problem, Watson said.

Best agreed with Watson, saying that Black women also fear appearing weak and feel they need to look strong. She called it a “heavy burden” they carry every day.

“When you walk in [to therapy], hang your cape up on the door,” Best said. “You don't need to be a superhuman here.”

In the third part of the event, panelists took questions from the audience. The Statesman asked what professors could do to help BIPOC students in the classroom, especially during potentially traumatic events like protests and political strife.

Watson said that professors should learn different types of presences within their classrooms, such as an equity presence — which means educators must explore their own culture as well as their student's cultures.

He said professors should recognize their own biases before trying to help students and take advantage of implicit bias training.

Most importantly, educators should be present, provide resources to students and in the case of referring a student to therapy, they should not just pass off students but hand them off. Professors should strive to build a bond with their students instead of only recommending them to campus mental health services, according to Watson.

“Be intrusive in a holistic way,” Watson said.

“Ask how they are.”

Karen Mendelsohn, assistant dean for academic and student affairs at the School of Health Technology and Management, added that professors need to “acknowledge... in the classroom that this is what’s happening. Things that are happening in the country and world... could be affecting anyone in the classroom.”

Kinkade said she hopes attendees will walk away “with an understanding that mental illness does not have to be a source of shame,” and that like with any other physical illness, there are solutions for folks from all backgrounds.

She wishes that healthcare practitioners would also realize that there are “concrete and specific” reasons that many people in the Black community will not reach out for help.

“Most importantly we hope that for any person who feels that they need help, they can ask for it without shame,” Kinkade said. “That is okay to not be okay, and equally okay to say that you are not okay.”

OPINIONS STAFF PICKS: OUR BLACK HEROES

BY STEVEN KEEHNER, SAM LAURIA, CINDY MIZAKU AND FANNI FRANKL Steven Keehner, assistant opinions editor, is a junior journalism major with a minor in history.

Muhammad Ali The phrase “Greatest of All Time” has seen its value diminish in the age of social media, where words are thrown around with no regard.

Yet, when speaking of Muhammad Ali, to use any other description than “The Greatest” is an understatement about who he was.

I could explain how the Louisville slugger dominated the boxing world with his quick wits and quicker reaction time, but what made Ali into a legend wasn’t his 56 wins, 37 knockouts or heavyweight championships; what made him the best was what he accomplished outside of the ring.

Ali’s anti-war beliefs made him a public enemy of America following his refusal to serve in the Vietnam War. Because of this, his athletic prime was systematically taken from him — he was stripped of his boxing license and subsequently, his title too. This didn’t stop Ali from continuing to advocate for the causes he believed in.

As the American perception of the war changed, so did the public eye on Ali, who went from a villain to a hero, then into a champion once more. Even after his career ended, he continued to be the people’s champ through his dedication to a variety of humanitarian causes. An earner of the Presidential Medal of Freedom and United Nations Messenger of Peace, his impact on the world was bigger than any boxing ring could handle.

Despite his death in 2016, Ali’s dedication and resiliency still inspire those seeking to create a better world. He was a fighter in every meaning of the word — the only man who could make medicine sick — he was the greatest.

Sam Lauria, assistant opinions editor, is a sophomore journalism/political science major with a minor in philosophy.

RuPaul Black History Month is a time in which we recognize and celebrate the role of Black individuals in America. When thinking about a Black person whom I admire, my mind immediately went to RuPaul.

RuPaul is the most financially successful drag queen in the U.S. He is known for introducing the world to drag (a form of entertainment in which people, usually men, dress up as women) during a time when it was very stigmatized. He normalized drag in a fun way that allowed drag queens to fully express their talents and personalities.

RuPaul is one of my biggest role models because he takes so much pride in who he is. As a bisexual woman, I have always respected how RuPaul has been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community — even when being gay was not as widely accepted as it is today. As an extremely important individual whom I respect for his courage and innovation, RuPaul has always stayed true to himself, which inspires me to do the same in my life.

Cindy Mizaku, opinions editor, is a senior journalism and English dual major with a minor in gender studies.

Demita Frazier, Beverly Smith and Barbara Smith The 1977 Combahee River Collective Statement, a name that honors the unequivocal bravery of Harriet Tubman, introduced a new

lens to schools of feminist thought that is now commonly known as “intersectionality.”

It is the idea that peoples’ identities are multidimensional and with that same belief, the oppressions that people face, whether they stem from racial, gender, economic inequalities to heteronormativity, are intersectional too.

Aside from addressing how varying experiences of discrimination coexist in marginalizing people, Demita Frazier, Beverly Smith and Barbara Smith, the primary founders of the collective, catalyzed what grassroots organizing looks like among people of color today.

I have critically read a diverse array of feminist texts since the age of 14, but none have left the same impact as the work of the Black feminists mentioned above. It’s not just their words that have shaped feminist studies — it’s how they created a Black sisterhood to gather information and inspire their body of work after feeling frustrated with the lack of representation of Black lesbian women in the 1960s movements, like Women’s Rights, Civil Rights and Marxism.

This collective of Black feminists informed their politics through an invaluable type of activism: consciousness-raising. No matter where one lies politically, engaging in personal storytelling, drawing connections between the experiences of others and sharing disagreements are forms of prolific discussions that we can all learn from. Demita Frazier, Beverly Smith and Barbara Smith have undoubtedly inspired me to question what I identify as true through gaining awareness from diverse perspectives — a practice that I firmly believe in.

Fanni Frankl, assistant opinions editor, is a junior journalism and political science dual major.

Maya Angelou Maya Angelou’s poem “And Still I Rise” rings in my head to this day. The heart-wrenching story behind a girl who was raped at eight years old by her mother’s boyfriend could bring anyone to tears. Not only that, but when she told her uncles, who kicked him to death, Angelou could not talk for five years after the incident, frightened by the power of her words.

But still, she rose.

Before starting her career as a prolific writer, she became involved with drugs and sex work.

But still she rose. A theater group discovered Angelou at the strip club she was working at.

She began to win roles and eventually moved to New York and made friends with famous Harlem writers.

As a Black woman in Arkansas during the 1950s and ‘60s, she experienced racial discrimination firsthand, impacting her chances to be the poet and writer she dreamed to be. During the turbulent Civil Rights era, the marginalization of Black women meant a success story like hers is a diamond in the rough. But still she rose.

Growing up in adversity with a passion for writing and the humanities, she was my role model to follow my writing dreams no matter the cost. She inspired me to write poems, sitting in bed with my Nintendo DS as the only source of light, teaching me that “you may trod me in the very dirt but still, like dust, I'll rise.”