A drag queen on the drag bans
  March 7, 2023 Howdy, Meteor readers, We’ve got a big one today, so let’s get right to it. In today’s newsletter, we hear about Tennessee’s new drag ban from one of America’s favorite drag queens: me. And for today’s slice of women’s history, Meteor founding member and disability rights activist Emily Ladau reflects on the legacy of the great Judith Heumann—who passed away Saturday. But first: the news. Hope you're ready for it, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ONSuing the Lone Star State: Yesterday, five Texan women who were denied abortions for life-threatening pregnancies sued the state over its abortion ban. Though the authors of the ban say it allows exceptions in cases of risk of substantial harm to the mother, doctors across the state say it has been tying their hands—and putting patients’ lives at risk. Amanda Zurawski, one of the plaintiffs, developed sepsis when forced to carry an unviable pregnancy before doctors were willing to operate. The resulting scar tissue has left one of her fallopian tubes permanently closed. Today, these women told their stories on the steps of the Texas Capitol. “I may have been one of the first who was affected by the overturning of Roe in Texas,” said Zurawski, “but I’m certainly not the last. More people have been and will continue to be harmed until we do something about it.” Lauren Miller, another plaintiff, shared how she was not allowed to terminate the pregnancy of one twin to save the life of the other, asking, “How is it that I can get an abortion for a dog but not for me?” These women are incredibly brave, and we hope that bravery can help to make change for, as Zurawksi phrased it, “all Texans who, like me, are scared and outraged at the thought of being pregnant in this state.” You can learn more about Zurawski’s story here. AND:
 RECALLING A TOO-FAMILIAR HISTORYThe Attack on Drag, as Told by a Drag QueenBY BAILEY WAYNE HUNDL  DYNA WITH A D, AKA METEOR WRITER BAILEY WAYNE HUNDL, AKA ME (PHOTO BY FREDDIE COLLIER) On Thursday, Gov. Bill Lee (R-Tenn.) signed a bill making Tennessee the first state to officially ban public drag performances. The new law, which goes into effect July 1, prohibits a wide variety of “adult cabaret performance”—including “male and female impersonators”—from public property or any venue where a child could see a performer. And it probably won’t be the last of its kind; similar “drag bans” have popped up in 12 other states. I’ve been a drag performer for over five years now. I’ve met friends through drag shows; I’ve mourned friends through drag shows. Before I was fully aware I was trans, I entered amateur drag competitions as a safe way to play with my gender. The first place I ever tried out the name Bailey, just to see how it felt, was in the crowd of one of my favorite shows. For so many people in so many ways, the art of drag and the community surrounding it has acted as a source of freedom and solace from an otherwise oppressive reality. Hell, if I’d been exposed to drag sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have waited ‘til I was almost 30 to start hormone replacement therapy—a fact that I’m certain these anti-drag legislators have at the forefront of their minds. Laws prohibiting gender variance are unfortunately nothing new; in fact, they’ve been around for nearly 150 years. The Stonewall riots (aka the very first Pride) started in reaction to police arresting anyone who wore less than three items of their assigned gender—a policy based on an 1845 law intended to stop farmers from evading taxes. And the abuse these laws enable is well-documented. Targeting “male and female impersonators on public property” puts trans and gender-nonconforming people at risk of police harassment. It puts performers who’ve used drag as their sole source of income (who now have a huge “gap” in their resume) at risk of unemployment. It puts bar and restaurant owners who rely on drag shows to bring in business at risk of closing. “A lot of these performers…they’ve been around my kids since they were born, they’ve known them their whole life,” said Tennessee cocktail bar owner Nick Scott. “We consider them family.” The stated purpose of these drag bans is to protect children. (Apparently these legislators haven’t heard of school shootings.) But honestly? Children love drag. I’ve performed at several kid-friendly events over the years. I’ve had kids come up and dance with me—completely unprompted—while I’m lip-syncing Disney; I’ve watched their parents say, “It’s okay, honey” as they nervously approach me for a picture; I’ve handed them noisemakers to “be my backup band” while I perform; I’ve read them storybooks in the park. As “RuPaul’s Drag Race UK” alum Cheddar Gorgeous has said, “Drag can be made age appropriate in the same way comedy, movies, books, plays or any other art form can be made for and enjoyed by kids!” Everyone knows how much kids love shiny, sparkly, colorful things. And you know what? So do we. The right’s attempt to eradicate gender nonconformity is nothing new. But time and time again, the queer community has proven its resilience. So rest assured: We are not even a little bit close to giving up.  A 🍕 OF HISTORYOn Judith Heumann, the “mother of the disability rights movement”The activist passed away this weekend at 75. Her mentee, friend, and partner in the movement Emily Ladau reflects on her incredible legacy. When I was younger, as I was developing my own sense of disability identity, I read about Judy Heumann. To so many, she is known as the mother of the disability rights movement. And as I got more involved in the world of activism, I had the privilege of getting to know her personally. Judy had no children of her own, but she made people feel like family. So often, she took younger disabled people under her wing, mentoring, guiding, and connecting us with resources. From my first meeting with her, I knew she was going to illuminate my own pathway. Judy fought for so much, from her right to become a teacher in New York City in the 1970s to the signing of the Section 504 regulations of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. She was among the leaders of the longest nonviolent sit-in at a federal building to get them signed. This was a precursor to the Americans with Disabilities Act; without these efforts, the collective work of the disability rights movement wouldn't have moved forward. Advocacy was at the core of Judy's being, from her time serving in the State Department to fostering relations with the global disability community. She was constantly in action: doing speaking engagements, co-writing her memoir, creating a children's book, hosting a podcast. I often wondered how she took time for herself, but I also really admired how she always gave so selflessly to others. Judy was also quite the Jewish bubbe type and would regularly ask if I was engaged yet. Though I always had to tell her no, I appreciated that she cared. What I love the most about Judy is that she truly was deeply human (and not just because of her last name). And she was full of fire over the fact that people saw disability as a tragedy, rather than seeing the inaccessible world around us as the real tragedy. I am lucky that I grew up in a time after so much of the groundwork had been laid for a more just, inclusive world—so much of it because of Judy's tireless activism and indomitable will. And alongside the rest of the disability community, I am ready to continue to carry the torch.  FOLLOW THE METEOR    Thank you for reading The Meteor! 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"You can't just cherry-pick history"
  March 2, 2023 Looking cute today, Meteor readers! Do we have anyone from Italy with us today? Apparently, some Italian Starbucks stores have started offering a new coffee drink with a twist ingredient: olive oil. If you’ve tried it, please tell me whether it’s a horror or a revelation. My inbox is open.  In the meantime, how ’bout I treat you to some news? It’s officially Women’s History Month, and we’ve decided to celebrate by including a little slice of history every week. Today, Rebecca Carroll writes about Toni Morrison’s Beloved—and the real woman the novel was based on. And we’ll also learn about Hippocrates, the right’s latest darling, who, according to Renee Bracey Sherman, may have been more enlightened than they claim. But first: the news. Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ONThe growing child labor scandal: The Biden administration announced a Department of Labor (DOL) investigation into major American companies’ use of child labor, following the release of a major New York Times investigation into dangerous factory jobs being performed by migrant children. Even before its most recent announcement, the DOL had seen the number of child labor law violations increase by almost 70% since 2018. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) then expanded the DOL’s previous investigation into migrant children—some as young as 13—found cleaning blood and animal parts off the floors of slaughterhouses. You would think these headlines might lead to greater vigilance nationwide surrounding child labor laws. But just yesterday, the Arkansas House’s Public Health, Welfare, and Labor Committee passed H.B. 1410, which would eliminate the need for 14- and 15-year-olds to obtain and submit to employers a certificate showing they are entitled to work legally. Bill sponsor Sen. Rebecca Burkes (R) said that the current form creates an unnecessary hurdle in the hiring process. But, as Laura Kellan of Arkansas Advocates for Children and Families pointed out, employment certificates only inconvenience companies who are illegally hiring minors. “We’re worried about the children who are at risk of being exploited and who are being exploited today,” Kellan said. AND:
 CHERRY-PICKING HISTORYThe Anti-Abortion Movement's Man-Crush on Hippocrates"I'm calling bullshit," says Renee Bracey Sherman  PEOPLE RALLY IN FRONT OF THE U.S. SUPREME COURT DURING THE 50TH ANNUAL MARCH FOR LIFE RALLY IN WASHINGTON, DC. (PHOTO BY CHIP SOMODEVILLA/GETTY IMAGES) The Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine, named for ancient Greek physician Hippocrates of “do no harm” fame, sounds like a benevolent organization. But the AHM is actually a virulently anti-abortion group, backed by lawyers who have passed many of the last decade’s strictest anti-trans laws—and they are currently fighting in an Amarillo, Texas courtroom to have mifepristone banned from its current use as an abortion pill. But in addition to all the other ways in which they are wrong, writer, activist, and We Testify founder Renee Bracey Sherman says they’ve got Hippocrates wrong too. OK, so what’s the myth about Hippocrates, and what’s the truth? So there's a line in the Hippocratic oath that basically says, "I will not give a woman an abortion pessary,” which was a suppository. Anti-abortion advocates have used this to claim that doctors should not provide abortions because it goes against the Hippocratic oath to do no harm. However, Hippocrates didn’t even write the oath himself! And [my co-author Regina Mahone and I] found research showing that Hippocrates actually gave out many recipes about how to do an abortion, both as a suppository and as a tea (or a “potion,” as they were called). John M. Riddle's book Eve's Herbs argues that the Greek phrase meaning “abortive pessary” was changed later to mean all abortions rather than just one method. In other words, Hippocrates' writings have been mistranslated, misunderstood, misappropriated, and downright mangled. And why does it matter? Because the anti-abortion movement cannot just cherry-pick which parts of history they want to keep and which ones they don't. They want to hold on to someone like Hippocrates, because they believe in ancient Greek and Roman medicine, and because they revere ancient white society. And they want to say that the original physician—for whatever that’s worth—said, “No abortions!” But that’s simply not true. [Meanwhile], they want to throw out Black and brown communities that have been teaching abortion for thousands of years. This is not the first time that they've done this. They do this with Dr. Martin Luther King and other black civil rights revolutionaries—they say that they're anti-abortion, but the evidence is to the contrary. MLK accepted an award from Planned Parenthood and literally wrote a note thanking them for it, saying, “This will be among my most cherished possessions.” Coretta Scott King went to the event to accept the award on his behalf. They're rewriting history. It ties deeply into this moment where [conservatives] are trying to ban books in school and Black history lessons. They are trying to get rid of our history, because if we don't know our history, we can't sit here and say: That is simply not true. I'm calling bullshit. And abortion has always been our right historically. This entire lawsuit is built on misinformation and a misreading of the historical facts. And it starts with the name of the organization. It’s all a hill of lies.  A 🍕 OF HISTORYThe History of Toni Morrison's Beloved and the Real Woman Who Inspired ItIt’s Women’s History Month. And every week, a Meteor collective member recounts a piece of women’s history that resonates with them. First up: Rebecca Carroll.  NOBLE, THOMAS SATTERWHITE. THE MODERN MEDEA. 1867. PHOTOGRAPH. When I discovered the work of Toni Morrison in college, it felt like the sky had cracked open and released a magnificent Black language and legacy for which I’d been waiting a lifetime. All of the characters and stories in Morrison’s books are stubbornly elegant in their own way, achingly intimate, and resolutely real. But it’s stunning to know now that one of her most chilling stories—Beloved, which is both widely considered to be her magnum opus and has been challenged and even banned by some high schools—is based on a real person: Margaret Garner. Morrison’s 1987 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel tells the story of Sethe, a woman who has escaped the Kentucky plantation on which she was enslaved to live free in Ohio, where we find her after the Civil War. However, Sethe’s home is haunted by a ghost called Beloved—the word inscribed on the tombstone of Sethe’s first, unnamed daughter, whom she killed to protect from a life of enslavement. The first time I read the book—long before I became a mother myself—I remember thinking that her horrific, unthinkable act was a plausible choice for a parent to make. And that was before I understood that the story was based on Margaret Garner, who escaped enslavement in Kentucky with her husband and four young children only to find her family surrounded by slave catchers in Ohio. In that desperate moment, she slit the throat of her two-year-old daughter, started to kill her other children, and planned to kill herself to prevent their return to enslavement. She failed, was prosecuted for “damage to property” and sold to her original owner’s brother. And yet her story—the way that her unimaginable trauma fueled her fierce mother-love—has become part of our collective history. But perhaps more than that, Garner’s story inspired the genius of another Black woman, and together, Garner and Morrison have given all of us an extraordinary narrative that demonstrates the tethered intersection of Blackness and womanness.  Rebecca Carroll is a writer, cultural critic, and podcast creator/host. Her writing has been published widely, and she is the author of several books, including her recent memoir, Surviving the White Gaze. Rebecca is Editor at Large for The Meteor.  FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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Student debt is a feminist issue
  February 28, 2023 Hope you’re having a good Tuesday, Meteor readers, According to my calendar, we are somehow two whole months into 2023. I guess it’s true: Time flies when you’re having a million different crises at once.  Meanwhile, it’s officially the last day before Black History Month ends (and Women’s History Month starts). To close it out, today’s newsletter contains a list of recommended reading and viewing curated by Ayesha Johnson. It’s a wealth of good options—for every month of the year. But first: the news. Flipping my calendar, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ON STUDENT DEBT BORROWERS CAMPAIGN FOR PRESIDENT BIDEN TO CANCEL STUDENT DEBT (PHOTO BY PAUL MORIGI/GETTY IMAGES) “Student debt cancellation is legal”: Today, the Supreme Court begins to hear arguments in two cases challenging President Joe Biden’s student loan forgiveness program—the first: a lawsuit from six Republican-led states arguing the plan hurts loan providers; the second: a case put forward by two individual borrowers who did not qualify for full debt relief forgiveness, claiming the law is unfair. The central question behind this case: Does the Department of Education have the authority to forgive loans? A little background: The Department of Education first paused payments at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic and extended this pause as the pandemic continued. When the payments were set to start back up in 2022, the Biden administration decided to offer up to $20,000 of relief to lower-income borrowers. Solicitor General Elizabeth Prelogar cited the 2003 HEROES Act, which provides the Secretary of Education the right to help borrowers in a national emergency—which the COVID-19 pandemic certainly was. But the opposition claims this was an over-extension of executive powers that shouldn’t have been able to pass without Congress. The payment pause, which has been extended in light of this litigation, will last until 60 days after this case is resolved. But Biden’s policy, which would wipe out $400 billion in student debt, would be crucial for so many Americans who are facing rising costs of education but stagnant salary growth. And lest we need to say it again: Student debt is a feminist issue. Women hold nearly ⅔ of all student debt in the United States, with Black and Native women disproportionately affected. As Bernie Sanders said today outside the deliberations, “You should not have to face financial ruin because you want a damn education!” Abortion is for everyone: Jessa Duggar Seewald—of the Duggars, the infamous family of forced-childbirth advocates—posted a video on Friday recounting the story of her life-saving abortion. Of course, she didn’t call it that; she described it as a miscarriage, and the procedure used to remove the fetus—a dilation and curettage (D&C)—as a medical procedure. But D&Cs are used to remove uterine tissue in the case of non-viable, dangerous, or unwanted pregnancies—a process that does, in fact, constitute an abortion. Duggar Seewald was lucky to be able to access one; there are many documented instances of people who required the same procedure but were denied it due to their states’ abortion bans. To be clear: It’s a good thing that Duggar Seewald wasn’t forced to carry a nonviable pregnancy to term. But her family has been very vocally anti-abortion—and she herself has compared abortion to the Holocaust. This story is another reminder that any pregnant person, for any reason, may one day need an abortion—regardless of how much of a boogeyman they’ve made it out to be. AND:
  MY BLACK HISTORY MONTH LIST The Meteor’s Ayesha Johnson shares some of the TV shows, movies, and books that are, for her, an essential way to understand Black history. TV Shows/Movies
Books
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A Ukrainian reflects on her year of war
  February 23, 2023 Hidey-ho, Meteor readers, It’s been four full days since the BAFTAs and I still can’t stop singing, “AN-GE-LA BA-SSETT did the thing.” Ariana DeBose should host every awards show from now until forever. If she auctioned that pink jumpsuit, I would buy it for millions (that, to be clear, I do not have).  In today’s newsletter, on the eve of the one-year anniversary of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, my colleague Anya Kurkina shares her reflections as a Ukrainian in America. Plus, rapists get what’s been coming to them (or at least some of it). But first: the news. Doing the thing, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ONWhat will it take to believe women?: Today in Los Angeles, Harvey Weinstein was sentenced to 16 additional years in prison. Back in December 2022, the jury had convicted Weinstein of three counts of rape and sexual assault against an anonymous victim. (The trial also addressed the claims of three other victims—including First Lady of California Jennifer Siebel Newsom—but the jurors were unable to produce a conviction.) This sentence comes in addition to the 23 years Weinstein received from his 2020 trial, where he was found guilty of one count of rape and one count of sexual assault against two women. Before we celebrate, it’s worth remembering what Siebel Newsom has called out as the misogyny on display in this trial. At one point, one of Weinstein’s lawyers accused her of being “another bimbo who slept with Harvey Weinstein to get ahead in Hollywood.” And it’s absolutely appalling that despite the bravery of over 100 women who dared to publicly disclose their trauma, Weinstein has been convicted of so little. Between two trials, he’s only been convicted of crimes against three of his victims—meaning there are still more than 90 women whose publicly shared stories have had no legal bearing. In a statement released Monday, Siebel Newsom applauded the bravery of all the victims, saying: “We must keep fighting to ensure that survivors are supported and that their voices are heard.” AND:
 ONE YEAR AFTER THE INVASION OF UKRAINE“Since That Day, Nothing Has Been the Same” The Meteor's Anya Kurkina reflects on the distress in her homeland.  THE UKRAINIAN FLAG FLIES OVER A DESTROYED BUILDING (IMAGE BY JARAMA VIA GETTY IMAGES) Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of Russian president Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. One year of bombing, of refugees, and—as in so many other conflicts—of lives interrupted. (According to the UN, at least 8,000 civilians have died and 13,000 have been injured.) For The Meteor’s Anya Kurkina, who grew up in Ukraine and whose parents still live there, this story is personal. She shares a bit of it here. The Meteor: Thinking back to a year ago, February 24, 2022: What was that day like for you? Anya Kurkina: Like every single Ukrainian, I remember that day really well. The entire week before was spent in speculation: Will he or won’t he [invade]? People were divided into these camps, and I was on the side of “he won’t.” I still believed, for some reason, that he had some fear, that he was a smart politician. But I think what happened is that he figured it would be a blitzkrieg for him—an easy win. So I was sitting there perfectly comfortable…and at about 2 or 3 AM, I get a call from my mom [in Kiev], and she’s in tears, and she just whispered to me: “It has started.” My dad had seen a rocket flare go by their window. And since that day, nothing has been the same—not for any Ukrainian there, or for any refugees. TM: How are you feeling on this anniversary? AK: The morning starts the same way for every single person from Ukraine right now: Wake up, look at Telegram (which is the equivalent of Messenger but protected), go through the WhatsApp groups to see the updates, and then you call your mom. And sometimes it’s rants about “the world is doomed,” and sometimes it’s, “I’m making tea, can you tell me how to cut a lemon?” On this day in particular, we're a little bit anxious because we don't know what this maniac is going to do. There's a big fear that he will escalate to…a different degree than ever seen before…All we have, unfortunately, is hope. [President Volodymyr] Zelensky would say we also need weapons alongside hope—that would be great. [Laughs.] But I do have hope. TM: What have been the most hopeful moments this year? AK: Every day is so rough, because there’s no guarantee of anything. You fear for your family, but also every region being hit—this week, Mariupol had to evacuate. For me, the [best part] has been to see how much people care. For one event [through Spilka, the arts collective and relief group Kurkina volunteers with], we raised 6K just by selling tee shirts and bowls of borscht. We can see how many people want to show support; in our volunteer group, we have people from Norway, Italy, Romania. It's great to feel united in this fight. And we were ecstatic that Biden went to Ukraine—and that he chose to come to Kiev as opposed to…a city closer to the border, which would have been much safer. It meant a lot. TM: What do you want Meteor readers to know on this anniversary? AK: You can donate, and you can just keep talking about it. I know it's not a good dinner-table conversation topic, but we're talking about something beautiful, and a way to [build] the world we want to see.  FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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The most important election this year?
  February 21, 2023 Salutations, Meteor readers, Yeah, yeah, yeah, yesterday was President’s Day. And that’s fine (though personally, we have some notes). But today is National Pancake Day, which is a LOT more fun to celebrate. Why don’t we get today off work instead? Imagine the parties.  In today’s newsletter, we take a look at politics & politicians: Sen. John Fetterman’s openness with depression and what it means for the way we view elected officials, plus a super-important election in Wisconsin that could shape our democracy (and that I hope all our Cheesehead readers will be voting in.) But first: the news. Passing the syrup, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ON U.S. SENATOR JOHN FETTERMAN (PHOTO BY ALEX WONG/GETTY IMAGES) In praise of political honesty: On February 15, U.S. Senator John Fetterman (D-Pa.) checked himself into the hospital to receive care for clinical depression. As his chief of staff Adam Jentleson said in a statement, “While John has experienced depression off and on throughout his life, it only became severe in recent weeks.” Last year on the campaign trail, the official also suffered a near-fatal stroke, a medical event which has been shown to drastically increase depression. Fetterman’s courageous openness about his hospitalization signals a shift in the image elected officials are willing to show to the public. Traditionally, the tacit expectation has been for politicians to conceal their humanity and hide anything that could be perceived as a weakness. It wasn’t that long ago that Hilary Clinton was lambasted for having the audacity to have pneumonia. And mental health is a whole ‘nother story. For comparison, consider fellow PA senator Bob Casey’s prostate cancer diagnosis just last January. You probably didn’t even hear about it; it received far less media coverage than Fetterman. And on February 14—the day before Fetterman went into the hospital—Casey announced he had received treatment. No media hubbub, no thinkpieces. He had a medical issue and it was handled. By showing the type of vulnerability he isn’t supposed to, Fetterman rewrites the script for what it means to be a politician, what it means to be well, and what illnesses deserve to be taken seriously. He makes space for anyone struggling with depression who might be too afraid to get the help they need. And trust me, that’s a good thing—don’t you want the person flying your plane or transplanting your kidney to have their mental health cared for? This is a meaningful change, and it’s not an isolated one. Just in this last month, Jacinda Ardern and Nicola Sturgeon both stepped down from public office (New Zealand Prime Minister and Scottish First Minister, respectively) and were honest about the reason: burnout. Hopefully we see this shift towards openly acknowledging our own capacity continue and extend to all areas of our worker-first, human-second, capitalist hellscape culture. Because if the leaders of our country can ask for help with depression and burnout, guess what: So can we. Democracy on the ballot: Wisconsin has its primary election today. Among other things on the ballot: the seventh seat on the state’s Supreme Court—a seat which will be instrumental in determining not just the future of abortion rights in Wisconsin, but the future of the whole state for years to come. For the last 14 years, the Court’s conservative justices have held a 4-3 majority. And in that time, they’ve used their power on everything from union busting to voter restriction. But with the departure of conservative Justice Patience Roggensack, the incoming judge has a huge opportunity to change this trajectory. The Court is currently poised to hear a lawsuit against the state’s current abortion ban (written in 1849!). And though this is technically a nonpartisan race, the four options on Tuesday’s ballot—two conservative and two liberal—have made it clear which way they would rule. (Protasiewicz and Mitchell both listed Dobbs as the worst Supreme Court decision they’ve seen in the past 30 years; Dorow and Kelly have been endorsed by Wisconsin Right to Life.) The generally moderate battleground state has been held in a stranglehold by its conservative legislature, and that conservative legislature has been supported by the Court’s conservative majority. But with this election, that could all change. Several upcoming issues hang in the balance—not only abortion, but Republican gerrymandering, the certification of future presidential elections, and so much more. The top two candidates will be chosen today and move on to a final match-up in April. If you live in Wisconsin, please make sure you are registered to vote and show up to the polls. AND:
 HOSTS QWEEN JEAN AND GIA LOVE BANTER AT THE "TRANS DAY OF LOVE" EVENT (PHOTO BY ADRIAN CHILDRESS)  FOLLOW THE METEOR    Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays. Ideas? Feedback? Requests? Tell us what you think at [email protected]
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What come after an uprising?
  February 16, 2023 Hello, Meteor readers, I couldn’t help but notice that it’s been two days since Valentine’s Day and none of you have sent me my roses. Listen, I get it. The postal service can be slow. I’m sure your love is in the mail. Still, though…you couldn’t overnight it?  In today’s newsletter, Samhita Mukhopadhyay sits down with Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor, co-founder of the new Black-centric magazine Hammer & Hope, to discuss Black resistance, cross-cultural solidarity, and what happened (and didn’t) after 2020. But first: the news. Double-checking my mailbox, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ONA letter to the editor: On Wednesday, a collective of New York Times contributors published an open letter to Philip B. Corbett, the Times’ associate managing editor for standards. In it, they addressed the “editorial bias in the newspaper’s reporting on transgender, non-binary, and gender nonconforming people.” The letter cited multiple instances in which the Times amplified anti-trans rhetoric, such as one story describing a trans child as “patient zero.” (Following the letter’s example, we will not provide links to these stories.) And how did the Times respond to this civil, well-stated, and widely supported request? By publishing an op-ed this morning titled “In Defense of J.K. Rowling.” In case you’ve not been burdened with the curse of knowledge, I regret to inform you that the Harry Potter author’s transphobic views have been well-documented. In the op-ed, writer Pamela Paul (who last summer claimed that trans inclusivity threatened women’s rights as much as the far right does) compares the “dangerous” criticism Rowling faces to Salman Rushdie, who was stabbed multiple times last year. A key difference here—along with the fact that Rowling has not, and likely will not, be stabbed—is that Rushdie faced direct death threats from the former Supreme Leader of Iran; Rowling faces exasperated trans people who just want her to stop tweeting. But the op-ed is one thing; the timing of it is another. It could not be more disrespectful to the thoughtful signers of the letter. If you’d like to add your name to theirs, you can sign here. AND:
 A NEW SPACE FOR BLACK RESISTANCE“After the Uprising, What is To Be Done?” Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor on a magazine that starts to answer that question BY SAMHITA MUKHOPADHYAY  A BLM PROTESTOR RALLIES A CROWD (IMAGE BY TAYFUN COSKUN/ANADOLU AGENCY VIA GETTY IMAGES) After 2020, scholar, author, and columnist Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor and Jen Parker, editor and New York Times alum, saw a gap in how Black politics and resistance were being covered in the media. It was clear that people were angry and fired up—but where was the publication that could serve as a roadmap for a movement? So they came up with the idea for a new magazine focused on Black politics and culture. Launched on Wednesday, Hammer & Hope says it plans to serve as a place for people to hash out the most important ideas in movement building and beyond. This week, I had the distinct pleasure of sitting down to talk to Keeanga about the new magazine and why we need it now. Samhita Mukhopadhyay: Talk about how this project came to be and why you decided you wanted to do it. I mean, you're so busy—a magazine?! Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor: I met Jen in the fall of 2019 [as my editor at The New York Times], and when the events of 2020 happened, both of us felt the absence of a venue to really engage with some of the debates that were emerging over what the nature of police reform should be, can the police be reformed, and what activists and organizers should be doing. There were millions of people on the streets and uprisings in different cities, yet there was little organizational cohesion. And so the questions of “What needs to happen? What should happen next?” or “Where does all this energy go?” It just felt like those types of questions weren't being fully engaged. So we spent the last two years trying to make it happen—a publication that saw itself as part of these discussions, a space where people on the ground could come talk about these ideas, [ask] strategic and tactical questions, but also the political questions that arise out of those debates. SM: You've recently written about the attack on Black studies, and even your own work has been banned [from A.P. curriculum by the College Board]. Why is Black rebellion and resistance so important to our understanding of history, and where does this project fit within that? KYT: You've got the governors of states trying to ban any discussion about Black history. And that is because the Black movement, probably more than any other, really exposes the hypocrisy at the center of American history. Black people were brought here as slave labor, and then when slavery ended, you had another hundred years of legal subjugation. With those 400 years of conscripted, codified racism, discrimination, and subjugation, the entire idea that the United States is a unique democracy…falls apart and is a complete farce. And some of that is revealing, too, in terms of what it says about white people. Because as James Baldwin once said, “If we are not who you think we are, then who are you?” So if you've built the entire foundation of the country based on this idea of Black people being subordinate and inferior, and it's not true, then it's deeply destabilizing when they rise up. And then the second part of it is that if it's true that there are 400 years of legal oppression and exploitation, then maybe the claims of Black people are legitimate; then maybe the claims for redress, for reparations, for programmatic interventions from the state—that has legitimacy. And that is something that neither liberals nor conservatives really want to talk about. They don't want to pay the price tag—the trillion dollar price tag—that comes with not even the question of reparations, but what does it mean to invest in schools? What does it mean to repair housing? What does it mean to provide meaningful jobs for people? They don't want to deal with any of that. And you have to deal with that if you deal with Black history. And so that history remains marginalized and out of our discussions. And so, of course, we want to bring that to the surface, but we want to do it in a way that is not just about Black rebellion unto itself. We're interested in the politics of solidarity. Even if we say that Black people bear the brunt of racism, discrimination, and exploitation in the United States, we know that Black people aren't the only ones who experience that. We have to show what connects us and brings us together and organize a struggle and a fight around that. SM: Much of your work critically engages with identity politics and how it’s merged with a neoliberal sense of diversity. You get into that in your book Let's Get Free, and you have talked about that with Olúfẹ́mi Táíwò, author of Elite Capture—who's also in the inaugural issue. But there is a very big interest in representation in pop culture. What do you think about the energy that goes into that? KYT: We have an interview in the magazine with myself, Durecka Purnell and Olúfẹ́mi Táíwò, titled “After The Uprising, What is To Be Done?” We talk about how symbolic representation has been offered as an alternative to substantive change in the last several years. So we don't get meaningful police reform, but we get Juneteenth as a holiday. We don't get substantive reform regarding housing—where you have Black women who are the one demographic most likely to be evicted in the United States—but we get a Black woman on the Supreme Court or a Black woman as the vice president. And that is supposed to satisfy the needs of Black women somehow. There's certainly a problem with the kind of over-emphasis on representation…[which] has become easier to deliver than the substantive change that people want. [That’s] why the level of tension socially is escalating. The ability to simply pay people off with representational or token support versus actually transforming a situation…I think people, in many ways, are rejecting that. And you might be happy or satisfied with the individual, but the idea that that would supplant a particular program or funding or something with some substance to it is really less [acceptable] with every passing day. And we obviously think that issues concerning race and gender and sexuality and ability and nationality and where you come from, immigrant status and all of that, are important, and particular struggles exist around each of them. At the same time, we want to understand how solidarity can bring different struggles and movements together. And that's part of the point of this publication, to create a space where we really work that out. SM: And the magazine is free? You can't build a movement behind a paywall. And why on earth, if we've got Chase Strangio talking about the attacks on trans people and their relationship to the attacks on Black people—why are we charging anybody to read that?  FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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This 21-year-old survived two school shootings
  February 14, 2023 Happy(?) Valentine's Day, Meteor readers, I wish I had better tidings for February 14, famously known as Anna Howard Shaw Day. But unfortunately, we must process the news of yet another tragic school shooting. In case you’re wondering, the last time we covered a mass shooting was…less than one month ago. Today we mourn the three lives lost, look into the shooter’s history, and explore the unprotected state of today’s transgender youth. I know, it’s a lot. I’ve been grabbing a feel-better snack about once every 28 seconds. My house is quickly running out of frozen Kit-Kats—which I highly recommend. Not exactly the Valentine's Day chocolates I was expecting, but I'll take it. Well, no putting it off any further. Let’s get into the news. Grabbing another pick-me-up, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ONThe shooting at Michigan State: On Monday night, the eve of the fifth anniversary of the Parkland massacre, a tragic shooting took place at Michigan State University. Three people have died, five more were critically wounded, and the suspect has been identified as a 43-year-old man unaffiliated with the university, who ultimately shot and killed himself. The identities of two victims have been released: Brian Fraser, a sophomore who was president of MSU’s Phi Delta Theta chapter, and Alexandria Verner, a junior who played basketball, softball, and volleyball through high school. The family of the third victim has requested not to be identified.  THE ROCK, A MONUMENT ON THE MSU CAMPUS, PAINTED TO MOURN THE VICTIMS (Image by Scott Olsen, Getty Images News) The gunman’s history had many of the usual danger signs: He had been arrested in 2019 for carrying a firearm without a permit, and was sentenced to 18 months of probation—during which time his father has said he repeatedly lied to him about possessing a gun. At the time of last night’s shooting, the gunman had a two-page note in his backpack that indicated an additional threat to two schools in Ewing, New Jersey. (He apparently had ties in the area.) All Ewing public schools have been closed as a precaution. We know this story all too well. According to the Gun Violence Archive, this is the 67th mass shooting in America this year—and it’s only February. Mass shootings are so commonplace that we’re starting to see people whose lives are touched by more than one. This 21-year-old student, now a survivor of both the MSU shooting and the Sandy Hook shooting, summed it up best on TikTok last night: “We can no longer just provide love and prayers. It needs to be legislation. It needs to be action.” In a statement made today commemorating the Parkland massacre, President Biden announced that $231 million will be allocated to the Justice Department to “reduce gun violence and save lives.” This money will fund crisis intervention projects such as “red flag” programs. But of course, as we’ve discussed before, “red flag” laws are not enough; they require civilians to fire reports to trigger the law. If you recall from last fall, the gunman at Colorado Springs’ Club Q had been arrested before the shooting—but because he was not charged, and no one who knew him filed a report, he was allowed to keep his firearm. What’s needed instead is a full overhaul of our gun laws—starting with an assault weapons ban. Call your representatives today and tell them to act now to end gun violence. Who’s protecting trans youth?: On Monday, South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem signed HB 1080 into law, banning access to all gender-affirming healthcare for transgender minors. As of July 1, South Dakota doctors will be unable to prescribe or administer puberty blockers, hormone replacement therapy (HRT), or any gender-affirming surgery to anyone under the age of 18. This makes South Dakota the second state to outlaw this medical care, following Utah’s ban in late January. And with more than 80 similar bills on their way, more states are sure to join. This news comes as the trans community mourns the loss of Brianna Ghey, a 16-year-old trans teenager who was stabbed to death Saturday in a park in Warrington, England. (Two 15-year-olds have been arrested as suspects.) Police say they have not yet found evidence that this was a hate crime, but many of Ghey’s friends have come forward claiming she had faced transphobic bullying for years—with very little intervention or protection from the administration at her school. As a trans person who didn’t start HRT until I was late in my 20s, I have to wonder: Who do these anti-trans legislators think they’re protecting by blocking minors from accessing care? Because trans youth are not in any way protected right now. Anti-trans rhetoric makes them more vulnerable to attacks from their peers—not to mention the fact that trans youth who are blocked from gender-affirming care are far more likely to consider or attempt suicide. Legislators claim they’re just shielding young people from making irreversible changes to their bodies—but there’s no change more irreversible than death. As trans activist Lindsey Spero said while testifying before the Florida Board of Osteopathic Medicine on Friday, “Your denial of my need for this medication doesn’t make my existence as a trans person any less real.” As the Board considered a ban on puberty blockers and HRT, Spero used his allotted time to take a testosterone shot in front of them. He told the Board, “I could stand here and tell you about the times I attempted to end my life because I didn’t have access to gender-affirming care. But I know. I know you don’t care.” They still passed the ban, though. So I guess he was right. AND:
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The President's missed opportunity
  February 9, 2023 How’s it hanging, Meteor readers? Hope you’re all getting through the week and finding meaningful ways to relax. I took a two-hour bath yesterday and read Stephen King’s Misery. “But Bailey,” you might be thinking, “That’s not a very relaxing book.” And to that, dear reader, I say it is when you’ve had a week like mine.  Today we look at President Biden’s State of the Union address: the highlights, the heckles, and the hole where a meaningful mention of abortion should have been. Plus, Barbra Streisand, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and Rihanna all have something exciting to announce! HUGE day for women and women-admirers. But first: the cockadoodie news. Keepin’ it easy, Bailey Wayne Hundl  WHAT'S GOING ONThe state of our union: President Biden gave his second State of the Union address Tuesday night. Traditionally, the State of the Union is a speech given by one person, but I guess this one was a group performance? Republican hecklers were out in full force, including Marjorie Taylor Greene cosplaying as Effie Trinket from The Hunger Games. The odds were not in her favor, though: She yelled “liar!” at Biden for claiming some Republicans (“I’m not saying it’s a majority,” he specified) want to cut Medicare and Social Security; Biden took it in stride, responding he was glad to hear they’d changed their minds—considering many have indeed proposed to cut both. Remember when Rep. Joe Wilson yelled “You lie!” at President Obama (who also hadn’t) and it was treated like a big deal? That was fun. Makes you sort of nostalgic.  But all in all, Biden was able to face the stadium jeers and make several important points. He recounted the horror at Uvalde and called for Congress to “ban assault weapons now.” He honored the parents of Tyre Nichols, who were present, and stressed the importance of police reform. As Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez acknowledged on MSNBC, while advocates have said reform is not enough, POTUS has come a long way from just a year ago, when he was advocating more police funding. But we can’t help but acknowledge the elephant in the room (or perhaps, not in the room): abortion. As writer Jessica Valenti pointed out, the State of the Union “[had] four sentences on abortion. Four. By comparison, the speech [had] 19 sentences on ‘junk fees.’” He started by saying Congress needed to restore and codify Roe v. Wade. Well, okay. Yes. Ground-level stuff, but it’s worth saying. Then he claimed he’s doing everything he can, reassuring us, “If Congress passes a national abortion ban, I will veto it.” I mean…that’s great. But it’s not enough. Every day a new state is introducing or trying to introduce a new way to ban abortion. There is an imminent, very real threat to the abortion pill; the President could have brought awareness to it in a crucial week. He could have pointed out that denying abortions can kill pregnant people (especially considering that one of Dr. Jill Biden’s guests almost died as a result of Texas’ abortion ban). He could have given hope, given information, given a plan of action: anything. Half of America’s citizenry were stripped of their right to bodily autonomy overnight. Trans people have their bodily autonomy threatened more and more every day. Our bodies are under coordinated attack from state legislatures. And with the whole country watching, President Biden decided to offer four sentences of condolences and move on. Last fall’s election demonstrated how much we care about abortion; it’s not unreasonable that we ask our president to do the same. AND:
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Why rape is not a "one-off" crime
  February 2, 2023 Greetings, Meteor readers, Happy Black History Month! Last night, The Meteor welcomed an incredible group of performers to a packed house at New York City’s Joe’s Pub for Say The Word: A Night of Art and Action for Abortion. (If you were there, hi!) The show was jam-packed with brilliance: We heard from comedian Jaye McBride; Colombian human rights lawyer and abortion rights activist Paula Ávila-Guillén; and Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning playwright Michael R. Jackson, who sang an original protest song. And then there was the glorious Dr. Kameelah Phillips, telling it like it is:  And as if that weren’t enough, Bob Odenkirk and David Cross reunited for the weirdest, most hilarious bit, all to raise money for the New York Abortion Access Fund. In today’s newsletter, the body-shaming of Sam Smith and the ridiculousness of the College board. Plus, Cindi Leive talks to writer V about what we get wrong about rape. But first, some news. LYLAS, Samhita Mukhopadhyay  WHAT'S GOING ONSam is thriving: The singer Sam Smith has a new video out for their single “I’m Not Here To Make Friends,” off the newly released album Gloria. In the video, Smith is serving looks—a giant fluffy pink dress and gloves, a feather get-up, and an amazing corset complete with nipple tassels. It’s queer, it’s flirty, it’s artistic; in other words, it’s a perfect music-video fit. But not everyone could get on board. Some boring people—in OpEds, on Twitter, on television—just had to criticize them for baring too much skin, claiming that the video was bad for children. Smith, however, told The Sunday Times that after years of feeling self-conscious about their body, they have learned to embrace themselves and “feel liberated, released from pressures I felt when I was young.” “I now have the opposite of body dysmorphia,” they said. “I look fabulous.” Your new mantra.  College Board catastrophe: The notoriously problematic College Board, which sets the curriculum for things like Advanced Placement classes and the SATs, has stripped down the curriculum of the African American Studies AP class, according to new reporting released yesterday. The New York Times reports that after vocal pressure from Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, the new curriculum removed discussion on critical race theory, intersectionality, queer identity, Black feminism, and Black Lives Matter—along with work by Kimberlé Crenshaw and Ta-Nehisi Coates—but added “Black conservatism” as a possible area of study. Education reporter Dana Goldstein dug into exactly what was removed from the curriculum; the organization, meanwhile, said in a statement that it had made the changes before DeSantis’ public announcement. Meanwhile: the original class sounds awesome! Book club, anyone? AND:
 REP. ILHAN OMAR (IMAGE BY KENT NISHIMURA/LOS ANGELES TIMES VIA GETTY IMAGES)
  THE METEOR INTERVIEW27 Years After the Vagina MonologuesThe writer V—formerly Eve Ensler—on what’s changed for her and the world. BY CINDI LEIVE  V (FORMERLY EVE ENSLER) (IMAGE BY BRYAN BEDDER VIA GETTY IMAGES) It’s been a quarter century since the performer Eve Ensler—who now goes by V—created the culture-changing play The Vagina Monologues and, shortly thereafter, the anti-violence organization V-Day. Times have changed—we now have more inclusive definitions of gender—but V’s gift as a writer has not. Her new book, Reckoning, touches on many topics but cuts deepest when it chronicles her decades-long recovery from childhood abuse. Actually, let me restate because, after talking to V, I'm disinclined to use clichés: her decades-long recovery from her father raping her and her mother protecting him. And as you’ll hear, that specificity matters. Cindi Leive: You've been writing about violence for four decades. How are you feeling about these issues in 2023? V: We’ve had amazing victories. We’ve broken taboos. We’ve opened safe houses, we’ve changed laws, we’ve activated young people. A lot of wonderful things happened. But the essential problem is we still have patriarchy. We can have one-off wins, but we’re still in that system where very, very, very few people, usually men, have all the wealth, all the power, all the ability to determine who is valuable, who is worthy, who gets to live, who gets to die, who has money, who doesn’t, and that all the rest need to be controlled or gotten rid of. Are we going to stay like that? Or are we going to say—finally, at last—we don’t accept this way of operating? Because otherwise, we will be in this struggle for eternity. CL: One of the things that has always affected me about your writing—going back to when I first saw The Vagina Monologues in the mid-90s—is how specific you always are in your language. You write in Reckoning that “violence against women” has become too abstract and broad a term. What do you mean by that? V: I've always been despondent over the terms that we keep using for violence against women. They just seem to get more and more distant, more and more abstract, as the violence seems to get more and more amplified and horrific. And I don’t think that’s accidental. When we talk about “gender-based violence,” who’s doing the violence? What is exactly being done, and who's it being done to? The confusion of that takes the responsibility off the perpetrator. It really should be “men committing violence against women.” I mean, not all violence against women is by men, but a great deal of it is. And when you say “rape,” it's very different than when you say “gender-based violence.” One you have an image of and can see. With “gender-based violence,” I have no vision of what that is. In writing The Apology [V’s 2019 book in which she imagines her father apologizing to her], it was very clear to me that there is no apology without a rendering of the specific details of what you have done. Because in that specificity, both you—the victim—and the perpetrator know you were present at the same event. If you say, “I’m sorry I abused you,” that’s not an indication that you were there. But if you say, “I'm sorry I walked into your room that had the gingham sheets and the pink bedspread...” then you both know you were in the same room, and you’re accountable to the same moment. CL: In the book, speaking of your own experience, you write, “this abuse altered the constitutional makeup of my entire being. It filled my cells and blood and body with terror, worry, guilt, and dread—that would in my teenage years and on until my sixties develop into all-encompassing self-hatred and anxiety.” That's a really devastating sentence. But it also made me a little bit hopeful because you say “until my sixties,” which implies that you have perhaps found some peace. V: One of the things about the kind of violence that happens to women is that no one really wants to think about long-term consequences. We talk about it as if it's a one-off event when in fact, it radically alters a woman's life forever, right? I don't know any woman who was abused sexually as a child or a young woman who has not had huge intimacy issues, particularly if they were incested by a family member. Nobody talks about what it does to your memory or your ability to think or your willingness and ability to be a leader because then you’re seen, and then you become a target, and then you could be raped again. I’ve had to do a lot of work to escape, and by no means am I fully out of it. There are things that can trigger me and put me back into it. But since I wrote The Apology, I will say I’m in a very different place. I felt I was forever in my father’s story, and that has changed. Yes, I got very damaged and broken early on…but it’s not the sum of me, it’s not the total of me. And that's amazing. I never thought that I would ever see that.  FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend? Sign up for your own copy, sent Tuesdays and Thursdays. Ideas? Feedback? Requests? Tell us what you think at [email protected]
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Why it doesn't matter when cops are Black
  January 31, 2023 Dear Meteor readers, Hey there! Samhita here–filling in for Shannon. (She thanks you for the love many of you sent her way as she left for her maternity leave). Though January can feel endless thanks to post-holiday letdown, I broke mine up by heading to the Sundance Film Festival to check out the feminist film offerings (and catch a glimpse of Jason Momoa, nothing un-feminist about that, right?).  This year's festival boasted many explicitly feminist films—several of which I got to see, including Going To Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project, directed by Joe Brewster and Michèle Stephenson (which won the Sundance award for Best Documentary) about the life of the great Black, lesbian poet Nikki Giovanni; and Invisible Beauty, a touching and personal portrait of one of the first Black supermodels, Bethann Hardison, directed by Frédéric Tcheng and Hardison herself. (At the screening for that one, there was a standing ovation and not a dry eye in the house as Hardison addressed the crowd.) Significantly, I also got a chance to see two major political docs. Tracy Droz Tragos’ Plan C is a painful-to-watch deep dive into the networks of women getting pregnant people access to the abortion pill in this changing, dangerous legal landscape. And Nancy Schwartzman’s newest documentary, Victim/Suspect, showcases women who were sexually assaulted but had police question their stories or manipulate them into recanting—only then to arrest and charge them with filing false reports. (She’s a pro at this tough material: Last fall, we talked to her about her documentary and book regarding the Steubenville rape.) Amid all of that, I moderated two panels: One, where I talked to filmmakers Justin Chon, Liz Sargent, and Sing J. Lee about what an AAPI story looks like in 2023; and another, in conversation with actress Anaita Wali Zada, who plays an Afghani refugee in the surreal and heartbreaking film Fremont. (Zada herself had to flee Afghanistan, targeted by the Taliban for her work as a journalist.) In other words: There are a lot of excellent and important stories out there; may they all find buyers and make their way to your screens. In today's newsletter, we look at why it didn't matter that the police who killed Tyre Nichols are Black, new allegations against Marilyn Manson, and the wonderful little development of emergency contraception vending machines on college campuses. Xo, Samhita Mukhopadhyay
 WHAT'S GOING ON A PHOTO OF TYRE NICHOLS FROM A PRESS CONFERENCE ON JAN. 27. (IMAGE BY SCOTT OLSON VIA GETTY IMAGES) What we know about another horrific police killing: Last week, video was released of the five Memphis police officers who severely beat Tyre Nichols during a traffic stop on Jan. 7; he died three days later. In the body cam footage of the attack, you can hear, among other things, Nichols call for his mother, who was only 100 yards away. He was reportedly a shy young man who loved skateboarding and photographing sunsets, as well as a father to a 4-year-old son. As you may have read, the officers involved in the beating of Nichols were part of a unit known as SCORPION—a "special" unit that targets neighborhoods deemed particularly high in crime by the Memphis Police Department. (The unit has now been disbanded). Five of the officers involved in the beating—all of whom were Black—were subsequently arrested and charged with second-degree murder. Another white officer, who was also on the scene and allegedly tased Nichols, was discharged from the force. So naturally, one of the topics of much discussion since the murder has been how much, and whether, it matters that the murderers were Black. Nichols' mother told the Washington Post that that fact makes the news of her son's untimely death "even harder to swallow...[T]hey are Black and they know what we have to go through," she said.  ROWVAUGHN WELLS, MOTHER OF TYRE NICHOLS AT A PRESS CONFERENCE ON JAN. 27. (IMAGE BY SCOTT OLSON VIA GETTY IMAGES) But for many observers, the race of the perpetrators was not surprising at all. While police departments often tout hiring more Black officers as a strategy to solve police violence, journalist Wesley Lowery has studied police aggression and found that the race of the cop doesn't really make a difference in whether an encounter with a suspect gets violent. As he wrote on Twitter, "this also applies to the narrative focus on 'white' officers in cases like Ferguson, Walter Scott, etc etc. What this implies—often unintentionally—is that the issue here is personal (or personal prejudice) and not systemic (something any officer could get caught up in)." And systemic reforms need to go further, argues abolition scholar Derecka Purnell. She pointed out in The Guardian that many of the reforms touted to decrease police violence were in place in the Nichols case: Not only were the officers Black (as is 58% of MPD’s 2000-person police force), but they also had body cameras. She notes that the MPD claims to have met all the criteria in Campaign Zero’s #8CantWait—a campaign to decrease the use of excessive force by police—and also has a Black woman as the police chief. Her conclusion? Not that change is impossible—but that you can only achieve it by steps to decarceration that “reduce the role and power of policing, rather than simply changing the colors of the people committing the harm.” AND:
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