The Pain of “Othering”

By Latashia Brimm

“Othering” is being placed in a category by systems and society that deem you unworthy to be a part of the community. As a Black person, the foundation of “othering” is white supremacy that permeates throughout the social and justice system. Mass incarceration arose as part of the New Jim Crow to repress Black people. It is now so large and corrupt that it swallows everyone regardless of race. 

The current climate of change surrounding justice is encased in microaggressive stigmas supportive of white supremacy that must be unraveled before any progress can be made. Many mean well but don't realize their reactions are problematic. The worst thing to do is get defensive when the problem is explained to you. You can't change something you're not acknowledging exists. Empathy is the most effective way to pierce the surface in order to begin the process of purging these issues from social systems. It also requires individual reflection and checking one’s bias at the door. 

Your journey through stigma

I encourage you to explore this re-entry reading from a perspective of self - immerse yourself in the experience as though it is your own. 

You are demeaned, humiliated, unheard, disrespected, dehumanized, and traumatized from your very first contact with the justice system. One day a kid threw a rock through your window and shattered the glass. Your landlord says they won’t fix it without a police report. When the police arrive they are dismissive and insulting. They take one look at the color of your skin and your neighborhood and without even looking at the damage say you were the one who broke the glass. Now the landlord won’t fix it because the police officer made assumptions and presented a false reality on the police report. You were mistreated by the responding officer and the landlord after experiencing a traumatic event. 

Now you are haunted by memories of the officers snickering and fear what will happen should you encounter them again. You worry, wondering if they can be trusted to be honest when it’s something major - like a shooting when no one else is around. This renders you fearful of the very people you're supposed to trust to serve and protect you.

During another encounter with the police, you are asked to pull over because of a broken tail light. Your anxiety is heightened because you have already experienced injustice caused by “othering” from law enforcement. You try to stay calm but you’re triggered by the memory of their tone of aggression so you look for a well lit spot to pull over. You’re crippled by fear, and it shows up in your voice. The officer, mistaking your anxiety attack to be suspicious behavior, asks you to get out of the car to search it. You find yourself yelling at the officer that he has no right to search your car. The next thing you know you are on the ground after being tasered in handcuffs. You’re going to jail with a felony charge.   

You complete your sentence, are released, and ready to begin a new life. You set out in search of gainful employment that will assist in building that new life. But you quickly find that having a criminal record impacts your ability to secure employment that fits your skill set and has opportunities for advancement. Instead, only the lowest-paid, least secure jobs are available to you. You’re shocked to find that one of the companies that employed you during work release won’t hire you now that you’re no longer incarcerated. You submit hundreds of online applications but automated algorithms eliminate you from the selection pool. After suffering innumerable rejections based on your charges, you aim for the lowest hanging fruit in an effort to bring in legitimate income. Finally employed in multiple low-paying jobs without benefits to try to make ends meet, you hope to eventually find a way to move up the ladder.  

A place to live is a basic necessity for every human being. When you’re released on probation it’s a requirement, but you were dropped off at the local shelter without concern from the correctional officers. Failure to secure and maintain a place of residence could violate your probation on a technicality, landing you back in jail. In addition, you have a family to care for so you apply for housing within your budget. Regardless of how old your charges are, having a criminal record disqualifies you from renting from many communities and private landlords. A criminal charge on your background makes it difficult to secure a safe, affordable place, and it exposes you to predatory behavior by some landlords. Regardless of its nature, your felony charge automatically eliminates you from the majority of residences. After finally finding a residence within your budget, you disclose your record on the application and pay the background check fee. When the landlord schedules an appointment, you think you have the place, but instead they have just brought you in to say that “no one will ever rent to you” with that record. Now you don’t have a place to live and are out the cost of the application fees.

Despite all this, you are expected to miraculously transform into a “model citizen.” But the psychological and emotional impact of the penal system is traumatic. Those who have not had the experience of living as a justice-impacted person but presented with the same treatment, would report it as abuse and seek therapy to recover. Unfortunately, therapy is not offered to you, and you’re just expected to sort through the trauma associated with being incarcerated and ostracized. As with your efforts to secure sustainable employment and safe housing, you are on your own in a continuously hostile and dehumanizing environment. 

Listening is the key

This is the reality for so many of our neighbors. But if these experiences are foreign to those in power, how can we expect to build a better world? The answer: the people who are impacted by this systemic injustice should be the ones at the table developing and implementing solutions. Who better to build a more inclusive, just world? The way we join the conversation may not look like what people are used to, but that does not imply that we won't be successful. Including new voices requires empathy, patience, and transparency from veterans of the arenas. Skill sets and comfort levels take time to develop. 

Listening is the key. If someone feels they already know everything about a certain issue even though they have no lived experience of that issue, then unlearning should be where change begins for them. If given the opportunity to learn about the lived experiences of others, don’t analyze, empathize instead. This is true even among well-meaning people. The worst thing to do is get defensive when the problem is explained to you. When it comes to re-entry and the justice system, this unlearning and empathy includes recognizing the characteristics of white supremacy, stigma, and becoming aware of unspoken, subconscious bias in your own mind. Until these things are confronted openly no progress can be made. A clean canvas is where real change begins. 

P.S. Everyone (regardless of race) should check-out “White Supremacy Culture” by Tema Okun to become aware of some of the characteristics, where they may show up in your day to day life (including yourself) and to begin your journey of unlearning. 

Surviving and Thriving: Universal Basic Income Explained

By Nadine (Hope) Johnson

When temperatures dropped last week, I felt my heart rate go up. Whenever it’s above 80 degrees or below 65 degrees, I’m plagued by anxiety that I won’t be able to afford the utility bills. This constant fear is not unique to me. Poverty crushed 34 million Americans even before COVID hit, and we have about a 31% poverty rate right here in Gainesville. 

As conversations happen locally and nationally about a universal basic income, or UBI, I’ve been thinking about how this would reduce financial stress in my life and for those I care about. A UBI is a public program designed to increase people's income. A regular cash payment is delivered to everyone in a given population (e.g. adult U.S. citizens) with minimal or no requirements for receiving the money. Not only would a UBI end the material hardship of poverty, it would allow people to expand the possibilities they see for themselves and have more freedom to pursue a fulfilling life. 

In terms of ending material hardship, I could use the A/C or the washer and dryer without the paranoia of my utility services being shut off. I could rest assured that I will not be evicted because I missed work to stay home and nurse my sick child. In short, I would know that I at least have enough to get by. Contrary to outdated stereotypes, I would not stop working and just live off of the government. Quite the opposite, in fact. As the stress from financial insecurity lessens, plans for myself expand. 

Poverty is not just about material well-being, it also shapes your frame of mind. At times I have lowered my expectations of life and of myself, because if money makes the world go round and you don't have any, then why try? My lack of money felt like yet another slammed door, which discouraged me from looking for new opportunities. This creates two separate worlds: a life of  seemingly endless options for the financially stable, and a life devoid of meaningful choices for people in poverty. In other words, economic inequality is not just about some people having more money than others, it’s about possibilities. Being stuck in a box of crisis response limits the possibilities you can see for your future. A UBI would break down those barriers and expand people’s horizons.

A UBI would also be a tool for increasing freedom and fulfillment more broadly. Nowhere is this more clear than as a parent. While I often talk to my children about the importance of using money responsibly, I don’t want to constantly shoot down their dreams with comments such as: “there’s no money in that” or ”that's not a good job.” This way of thinking blinds you to anything but your immediate need for money. You can’t afford to listen to what speaks to you unless it’s attached to a large dollar amount. Your own inner compass becomes a mistrusted nuisance in your desperation to keep your head above water. A UBI would provide the financial stability that’s necessary for my children - and everyone’s children - to pursue their dreams. It would expand their vision beyond that of immediate crisis and allow them to think about fulfillment instead of just survival. 

Think of who we will be as a people once we move beyond the first level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. A UBI would help everyone to meet their basic needs, expand their vision of what’s possible, and, perhaps most importantly, allow them to build fulfilling lives. If we can come together around the idea that everyone has the right to the essential things they need to get by, my hope is that old assumptions and stigma around poverty start to fall away. Being able to meet your own basic needs can be the difference between sinking lower into despair, or climbing higher than ever and achieving self-actualization. A UBI is an opportunity to bring people out of fear and into empowerment.

COVID-19 Exposes Food Accessibility Deficits In Alachua County

By Latashia Mayze-Brimm

COVID-19 has shined a light on problems that our community has struggled with for a long time. For example, the survey Community Spring conducted as part of the Grassroots COVID-19  Recovery Campaign revealed that 27% of responding Alachua County low-income households did not have consistent access to food in May and April. This suggests that thousands of our neighbors are going hungry. While many respondents reported lacking the funds to purchase food, perhaps even more troubling was that one-third of people couldn’t even access the food that was available. Access to food is a basic human right as stated in Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It is simply unacceptable that this human right is not being respected for so many in our community. 

Even before COVID-19 struck, US food systems were already unsustainable and inequitable. According to Feeding America, over 37 million people in our country are experiencing food insecurities, including over 11 million children. In 2015, Florida had the 10th highest rate of food insecurity in the nation. Alachua County landed in the top five of Florida’s 67 counties, with a 19.8% food insecurity rate. This figure was improving, but since COVID-19 it has slipped to 18.9%, which means that nearly 50,000 members of our community are still food insecure. 

The scale of hunger in our community is staggering given all the work that is already being done to combat it. Dedicated organizations such as Bread of the Mighty Food Bank, Working Food, SWAG, Gainesville Community Ministry, Alachua County Christian Pastors Association (ACCPA), Salvation Army and Catholic Charities have been instrumental in distributing food both before and during the COVID-19 pandemic. In addition, food programs such as SNAP (food stamps) and WIC are available to assist with nutrition needs. However, only about 69% of food insecure individuals qualify for federal assistance, which leaves thousands of households struggling to get enough food.

The persistence of food insecurity is due in part to a long history of systemic racism and class inequality. The root of food access disparities, both in Alachua County and elsewhere, is the historic and present-day segregation of low-income minority communities. The lack of diverse, nutritional food options in these places is a painful reminder of archaic discriminatory policies, segregation and racism. 

So what can be done to decrease food insecurities in Alachua County? One place to start is increasing access to food via additional grocery stores. Alachua County has several food deserts - areas with severely limited access to grocery stores - all of which are scattered around Gainesville. For example, in East Gainesville the singular grocery store is Walmart. For East Gainesville residents without reliable transportation this lack of options significantly limits their ability to secure healthy food. The local transit system takes between 8 and 53 minutes to reach Walmart, depending on your location. That timeframe doesn’t include traffic or other delays. That’s potentially two hours round-trip just to get some groceries. Also, factoring in the limited amount of groceries one can carry and bus fare for each trip, there is a clear and significant barrier to food access. Local leaders should find ways to encourage developers to open additional stores in these areas.

However, it’s important to recognize that systemic barriers to food access run deep and new grocery stores won’t open overnight. Taking that into consideration, we need to move forward with other options in the meantime. One possibility is increasing distribution sites for free food. This is already being done in part by the Bread of the Mighty’s Mobile Food Pantry Program. So far there are 30 - 50 distribution sites spread over five counties and serving around 87,000 people each month. This model should be expanded. Imagine market stations of fresh food and produce options deliberately located in vulnerable communities throughout Gainesville. Communities such as Eastwood Meadows, Village/Forest Green, Lamplighter, Lincoln Estates, and Linton Oaks would benefit greatly from increased access to food. Distribution needs to take place on a micro-level, neighborhood by neighborhood.

There might be other creative solutions. Perhaps we could provide busing from communities to the food drive locations. Or bus loads of food boxes can be delivered directly within each food insecure community. Given the scale of the need, it’s time to start looking for new ideas and thinking outside the box.

The veil covering the full scope of food insecurity in our community has been shredded. COVID-19 has brought suffering and losses that we will never forget, but all of that pain is also an opportunity to finally make things better. Our neighbors who are elderly, or single parents, or disabled, or homeless and many others need more food options. Local leadership should encourage developers to open grocery stores in low-income and food insecure communities. In the meantime, a nutritional triage effort is required for food insecure individuals and communities. Partnerships should be formed between local government, farmers and other organizations to expand food distribution. If we fail to act now things will only get worse. 

As we all wait in anticipation for things to get back to normal, we need to think critically about what we consider normal. Food insecurity should not be normal. I hope that this painful moment can help our community unite and ensure that everyone’s basic human right to food is fulfilled.

My only right is the right to remain silent

By Nadine (Hope) Johnson

Americans like to point to the Declaration of Independence as providing the basic promise of our country: “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” But when I look around my community, these words ring hollow. I can’t see the meaningful promises of life, liberty and a chance at happiness for myself or my neighbors. Instead I see a disconnect between our country’s values and its actions, between these unalienable rights and my reality. 

A lot of this gap comes from the racial history of our country. When Jefferson wrote those idealistic words, he owned human beings who not only looked like me but may have shared my same heritage. They cleaned his house and prepared his meals, worked his land and bore his children. All without the use of their so-called “unalienable” rights. Throughout his life he owned upwards of 600 human souls with dark skin and curly hair like mine. The slaves may have been endowed by the creator with these rights but it was a man who took them away. 

Jefferson didn’t include black people in his vision for a free world, and that exclusion has carried over to this very day. As a result, being black in America means doing a specific dance when it comes to your rights. You must be careful not to make too much noise or ruffle feathers or you risk losing the very right you are acting on and much more. Keep your head down, take what is given, don't make a ripple. These are our earliest understandings of rights.

Maybe that’s why people in my community think less about their human rights and more about their right to remain silent, and not just while being Mirandized. When reaching out too many times for food or financial assistance could end up getting the authorities involved in your life, you tend to stay silent even if it means going without the support or protection that you desperately need. I often feel the need to stay safe beneath the radar of authority because a call for protection could cause me to lose my housing or even my children. Others may fear losing their loved ones to incarceration, sending them further into debt and possibly causing them to be evicted. When I think about my basic human rights and look around my neighborhood there is a disconnect that occurs in my mind. When all we see is poverty, violence, incarceration, and a generalized apathy to change any of it, rights don’t mean much. 

Take the right to life. You have a right to some healthcare, and yet black and brown people have less health coverage and have lost their lives at far higher rates from COVID. This topic is barely discussed in my neighborhood, however, because black men, women, and children are more concerned with losing their lives from police brutality. Or consider the right to liberty. You have a right to a fair trial before your liberty is stripped from you, and yet the wealthy hire fancy lawyers to avoid punishment and low-income black and brown people fill the prisons. Or let’s consider a right that is critical to the pursuit of happiness: education. You have a right to a basic education, and yet per student spending is vastly uneven, largely along racial lines, and only 28% of black 3rd graders are reading at grade level in Alachua County. 

There are other ways we could be doing things. Imagine if we all agreed that everyone, no matter the color of their skin, really had the right to the basic things that you need in order to have a real chance at life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. What if there was universal healthcare to ensure that we all had the same chance to keep our lives during a deadly pandemic? What if there was meaningful accountability when the police shoot someone? What if everyone had the right to an attorney in all criminal cases (and not one with a caseload of 300 people)? What if instead of talking about ways to limit assistance to low-income families we talked about having a universal basic income? What if community leaders and community members came together and had regular round table discussions that resulted in real life solutions to the issues that plague oppressed communities?

These things are possible if we’re willing to pursue them. The responsibility to change things lies with the people. We have the power to decide how our community should run and put systems in place to make things better. Don’t forget that the Declaration of Independence also says that “whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it.” There is a long road ahead before our rights match reality, and I'm just one person standing up and saying that a change is needed. But imagine if I inspire others in my community to do the same. We could change the world.