Tag : black lives matter

October 23, 2020 by

Fiction: The Neowise Comet Listens In


I remember you from before. Weren’t you here the last time I came? It was before Gilgamesh, before Anansi, before Apollo. I saw you there. It was six thousand years ago, or seven.

Black Lives Matter, of course it’s true. But the fact that something is true is NEVER the reason for saying it. So why say it? If you’ve got to ask why, then you don’t get it, you don’t understand. I know you want time to understand the saying of it. Is it a group? Is it an idea? Why do we need to say it if we already know that it’s true?

I am a returning departing comet. The last time I was here Gilgamesh hadn’t been born yet, but you were here. You’re Black. You’re Jewish. I saw you in tents, in huts, in booths, under canopies – corridors, hallways, chambers. You crossed the sand and came to the salt water, you saw islands.

Black lives matter. Black lives started it. You all came from Africa. All of you. All of us. That’s what I overheard returning and departing. All lives are Black lives that matter. But sometimes you forget. Say it so you don’t forget. Black Lives Matter.

I overheard someone speaking, “I was not the one who did it.” They were words coming up from Sixteenth Street in front of the synagogue, her congregation, Tifereth Israel, every Friday.
They were standing along Sixteenth Street, in support of Black Lives. I heard someone explaining, “I did not arrange it for everyone to stand along Sixteenth Street, six feet apart, social distancing.” She was holding a sign. She said, “I do it because I want a change, I held a sign but so did the others. Did you see my sign? I got worried. What is my country doing? Why does my country hurt Black people so much? That’s why I was there.” That’s what she said, that’s what she does.

Do you want to know what I do? I make returns and curves and circles and ellipses around and around and around. I come back and back and back I was here six thousand years ago and when I came by this time I heard her say, “I want it to change.”

Most of the words that were spoken the last time I came are lost now, but not all of them.

I am black and beautiful,

As the tents of Kedar,

as the curtains of Solomon

Black. Beautiful. Then. Now.

Hebrew words spoken all the way back. I was already there. Why are you saying it now? One said, “Y’all hear that, Chile? She went down to the Capitol Building, yes she did, She went all the way down to the Capitol Building to see the casket of John Lewis. That’s what she did. She kept saying, Black Lives Matter. She went before to see the casket of Rosa Parks. She went this time to see the casket of John Lewis. The moments were different.”

Rosa was in the sunlight. John was by night,

And there were floodlights on the Capitol Building.

When I was still approaching, back in 1987, I overheard when one said, “Black Power.” She was there with Stokely Carmichael in the basement of Douglass Hall at Howard University. One said, “We’ve got to call ourselves something. We have lots of words to choose from. Let’s call it something. Let’s call it Black Power. We didn’t know it would end up being a thing. We didn’t know where it was going.”

Black Power. It didn’t say, nobody else has power. It didn’t say anything about anybody else’s anything. It just said, Black Power. And if you don’t know that it’s replacing black non-power. That means you’re clueless. You don’t know what’s going on. And if you think Black Lives Matter is trying to say Black Lives Matter instead of White Lives, instead of other kinds of lives, then you don’t know what we’ve been going through.

But one said, “What about the word forbearance. One day I hope somebody’s going to have forbearance for some stupid thing I’m probably doing right now, and I don’t even realize what it is. Forbearance. Give somebody a chance to learn something.”

I overheard. One told a story. “The first day I showed up at Howard University, first year student, first day of college, I started in the summer time. I arrived, and there were policemen there holding us all back as we were about to make the turn into the campus. One, two, three, four, fifteen, twenty buses came driving out onto Georgia Avenue and turn south, going to sit in somewhere. They were going to risk their lives somewhere. And I was a little first year student, scared to death. I said, ‘I’m glad they’re going because I ain’t going nowhere. I’m glad someone’s willing to go there for me’.”

When those buses were gone, another one came up to that one and asked, “What are you going to do? Your country is a mess.” And that one answered, “I don’t believe my country would ever do anything to hurt me.” Yes, that one said, “I don’t believe my country would ever do anything to hurt me.” That one is a descendant of Jews who were kicked out of Spain in the Inquisition, in 1492. That one is a descendant of slaves in America. That one is a descendant of slaveowning rapists and murderers. One of that one’s ancestors signed a parchment with the words, “All men are created equal.” That one said, “I don’t believe my country would do anything to hurt me.”

But there was forbearance. That one had time to learn something and figure things out. That one believes in teaching and forbearance. Someone taught her and had forbearance for her.

That one thinks about her friends. “One of the hardest things for me,” she says about Black Lives Matter, “is not affirming that Black Lives Matter, but that all of my white friends are all feeling bad and searching their lives and hearts and dealing with all their pain about racism as if their lives are not connected to mine. Who am I supposed to have a cup of coffee with and a good laugh while they are out there in the midnight of their souls digging out their racism? Who am I supposed to have a giggle with while they’re off attending anti-racism seminars? And we’re so close that it hurts my heart too. It’s not like it’s only hurting on one side of the friendship, and the others are home free.

“So, I keep thinking, maybe I’m the wrong person to listen to… Black Lives Matter… but too late now, I’m here, and I’m already talking, so you can’t uninvite me.

“I feel so weird sometimes when I see the lack of forbearance. It’s a new word that has never been heard before. Hold back a little bit, give somebody a chance to learn something, to teach something, to understand something.”

This is what I overheard six thousand years on my way back, or maybe seven. Mostly I just lie down and wait for time to pass, lying down in space. And I remember you, all of you, from
before. You were here the last time I came. Before Gilgamesh. Before Anansi. Before Apollo.

But there you were, Black, and Hebrew, and Jewish.

Black and beautiful

as the tents of Kedar

as the curtains of Solomon

One said, “There were more barriers when I went to see John Lewis. I don’t remember barriers for Rosa. John’s dark was so beautiful, he changed the night. Rosa was joy, John was solemn. 

One said, “You want to tell it as if I did it all myself. I looked at it, I because I am a part of it, standing along Sixteenth Street holding a sign. Is that just performance? Is that nothing.”

Another one spoke to that one. “What do you think holding a sign on Sixteenth Street is going to do to help Black Lives?” White people were up there yelling at other white people, “All ya’ll are doing is performance. You’re doing nothing, nothing. All you’re doing is standing there holding a sign. That’s just performance.”

And yet I overheard young men, Black men speaking one to the other, “I’ve never seen this before. Usually when the trouble comes, white people disappear. Every other time they disappeared. This time they didn’t run away.” Performance. A way to get started.

Surely you were here the last time I came ellipsing around your sun, hearing your earth.

One remembers a song she sang as a child.

We’re marching to Zion,

Beautiful, beautiful Zion

We’re marching onward to Zion

the beautiful city of God.

But another one said to that one, “Zion isn’t yours.” But that one thought… Yet the other said, “If you’re a Zionist then something is wrong with you. If you want to be a Zionist you better be it secretly in your heart. You’d better not tell anybody. Send secret money to Israel while marching on the Plaza with Black Lives Matter downtown.”

“Do you think the land was given to Jews only forever for all time?” “Not exactly that, but I figure if G_d gave us that land, then let G_d set it up,” that one said. “As for me, my joy is to have peace with the people around me. If G_d wants to make a change, then G_d you come in here and do it. I want peace. I want the people in Israel to know they don’t have to worry about food. They don’t have to worry about having a place to live and stay. My hope is that given the freedom of enough food and enough support, there will be time to know how can we live in Israel in peace.”

I overheard as I ellipse around her sun. I remember that one. I saw her before, when I came by before, this is what I saw,

I saw Moses standing before Pharaoh. There was a little Egyptian girl behind a curtain listening. Hail was about to fall. Moses said to Pharaoh, “so tell your people to say inside and get the cows in, or the hail will fall on them and they’ll die.”

And the little Egyptian girl behind the curtain said, “That’s the first time any G_d has ever cared about what happens to the enemy, and tells the enemy to protect themselves. I’ve heard of many a god, but I’ve never heard of a G_d who cares about the enemy. So I’m going to follow this Moses. And I’m going to be there.” And the little Egyptian girl left Egypt just behind the children of Israel, and spent 40 years catching up with them, crossing the desert, and came to the land. To Israel. Black Lives Matter. We’re Marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion.

I remember you from before

You are Black and beautiful

As the tents of Kedar

As the curtains of Solomon.

Carolivia Herron, Ph.D., teaches Classics at Howard University. Her books include Peacesong DC: A Jewish Africana Academia Epic Tale of Washington City; Always an Olivia: A Remarkable Family History; and Asenath and the Origin of Nappy Hair: Being a Collection of Tales Gathered and Extracted from the Epic Stanzas of Asenath and Our Song of Songs.

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October 20, 2020 by

Elissa Slotkin: How 2020 Looks from the Midwest

Representative Elissa Slotkin, the Democratic incumbent Member of Congress representing Michigan’s 8th District, is running a race to watch in 2020: Even Politico has  profiled her in a series of articles because her district is “the sort of place Republicans figured to rule forever, the sort of place Trump won comfortably (by 7 points, to be exact) and the sort of place where a suburban realignment to the left could ensure not only a Democratic grip on the hard-won House seats of 2018 but a Joe Biden blowout across the battleground map of 2020..”

Slotkin, with multiple cultural and political tightropes to walk and a formidable political savvy, is also a former Lilith cover star. With the election, the pandemic, and the rise of white supremacy weighing heavily on everyone’s minds, Lilith’s Editor in Chief, Susan Weidman Schneider, and photographer, Joan Roth, hopped on Zoom with Slotkin to talk about some of the most intense topics of 2020.

Lilith: The “Proud Boys” are new to national consciousness–but you’ve been dealing with them for a while.

Representative Slotkin: They’ve protested in my town, Lansing, Michigan, and in many, many towns around here. They’re very open, they’re wearing motorcycle vests that say Proud Boys embroidered on the back. They’ve even provided security at some Republican events!  

One of the things that I’m worried about is that the president though his leadership has fomented a lot of folks who are ready to take up arms at his suggestion. People who have seen their views normalized by the commander in chief.  So to be a Jewish candidate running right now, in 2020, is very different from the last time I saw you, in 2018.

Lilith: What has been different? How have you experienced antisemitism?

E.S.: There’s a normalization of hate, a permissiveness around antisemitism that has grown, so that people commenting on Facebook pages are alluding to my being a Jewish candidate. There are memes being put out by the man I’m running against that are for me really right on the line of antisemitism, with me holding money bags and Slotkin spelled with a dollar sign. 

My opponent will not denounce the Proud Boys. He will not denounce these hate groups. It’s one of those things where you know if the ADL and the Southern Poverty Law Center label you a hate group it should be really easy for any candidate around the country to denounce that hate, especially now, and the fact that they won’t shows how normalized and how concerned they are about not offending those folks.

Lilith: How has this affected your Jewish supporters?

E.S.: In my district, I have about 4,000 Jews, a small Jewish community of East Lansing. The majority of Jewish Michiganders are closer to Detroit than I live, I live on my family farm. I grew up in the Jewish community of suburban Detroit, my parents still live here, so we have really strong ties. They all think of me as their daughter. Right before Covid. I brought in the Attorney General, I brought in some senior FBI folk from Michigan, and the ADL for events, because we’ve seen a fourfold increase in antisemitic events in Michigan. It’s spraypainting of swastikas outside of cafes run by more progressive people, the destruction of a sukkah outside of Michigan State Hillel. It’s a series of things; they aren’t violent, but what the FBI really told us about is a ladder of escalation. And when you add to that the conspiracy theories that have now been mainstreamed about Jews, that have literally led to violence in Poway and Pittsburgh, it’s just a different tone and feeling out on the campaign trail. 

Lilith: How do you see your role as an elected leader in the wake of the George Floyd protests?

E.S.: There is something new for me. After the murder of George Floyd—and the reaction among our African American community, among the white communities, rural communities in Michigan where people held peaceful protests in small farm towns, all-white farm towns— I felt people were absorbing this message that there is systemic racism, and it’s important to be anti-racist. So one of the things that I’ve been asked to do––by both people of color and people in white communities who know no people of color––is to use my convening authority as a member of Congress to bring groups together who wouldn’t otherwise sit in the same room. And it has now been such a steady drumbeat of people asking me that I’m setting myself up to be trained on how to facilitate these conversations in a healthy way. 

Lilith: What changed for you in dealing with racism?

E.S.: One of my best friends is an African American man I went to high school with who’s now the head diversity officer for Ralph Lauren. I was telling him how people from the African American community wanted to engage with people from all-white communities. How Black entrepreneurs wanted to talk to the Michigan Banking Association, and vice versa. I kept saying to him, “I think I need to find someone I can introduce them to so they can have that facilitated conversation.” And he really pushed me to be that someone: “I would say in 2020 this is now part of the job description for a Member of Congress, or anyone in elected leadership––to bring people together who want to deal with the pain and division in their communities and are looking to elected leaders to help that happen in a safe way.” 

So it’s new. It’s not like I was trained in the national security world to do this! Not at all. I want to just put it on peoples’ radar, because I think it’s one of the real, substantive outcomes of the whole movement that happened after George Floyd was murdered, and it has really changed my approach to my job.

Lilith: You were on Lilith’s cover back during the last election cycle. What response did you get?

ES: I will always remember you guys because you were my first cover! I get calls from someone vacationing in Oregon: “I went into this lovely bookstore, and there’s your face, staring at me!” We remember you all fondly on our team as being our first breakout publication.

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October 15, 2020 by

Connecting Jewish Tradition with Black Fugitive Legacies

This autumn, the parking lot of the Halcyon Arts Lab in Washington DC hosted a special sukkah built by visual artist Jessica Valoris. Though its materials—recycled cardboard, paper, bamboo and plant materials—are all things you might expect to find in your average sukkah. this one is anything but; it’s a structure that confronts the past and present, invites us to engage with possibilities of the future. Lilith spoke with Valoris about creating, Black fugitivity, spirituality, and more. 


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September 23, 2020 by

Reflecting on the Protests in Portland

Portland is one of the whitest cities in America, with an extremely racist history. So who would have ever thought we would be the city to watch during the modern-day civil rights movement?

The murder of George Floyd changed our country, and it changed Portland. So much so that this week, along with Seattle and NYC, we were designated an “Anarchist jurisdiction” by the Attorney General just this past Monday.


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July 27, 2020 by

Who Shall Die…

Friday would’ve been the 65th birthday of my first wife and her yahrzeit is this week. As I thought about the beauty of her laugh and the pain of her end, so different from those on whose behalf we cry out, the words of the Unetaneh Tokef—a prayer that inspires fear and awe during the High Holidays—came to me.

Both the Unetaneh Tokef and the impact of this list of killings of Black Americans (compiled by an unknown community member) inspired “Unetaneh Tokef for Black Lives”.

Each day we hazard our Black lives in the Court of the White World

We know our worth

Yet the white world is judge-self-appointed

We pass before you to be counted

12.5 million bodies stolen

1.8 million mercifully avoided your shores

Stolen shores, stolen land

10.7 million arrived unsafely

…times 401 years

…times infinite human indignities

…times ⅗ of a human being

We now number 47.8 million



In the morning it is written and by curfew it is sealed

Who shall die while jogging (#AhmaudArbery)

Who shall die while relaxing in the comfort of their home (#BothamJean #AtatianaJefferson)

Who shall die while seeking help after a car crash (#JonathanFerrell #RenishaMcBride).

Who shall die while holding a cellphone (#StephonClark).

Who shall die while decorating for a party (#ClaudeReese).

Who shall die while leaving a party (#JordanEdwards #SeanBell)

 Who shall die while enjoying music (#JordanDavis).

Who shall die while selling music…trying to make a way outta no way (#AltonSterling).


Who shall die while sleeping (#AiyanaJones)

Who shall die while worshipping the Lord (#Charleston9).


Who shall die for a traffic violation (#SandraBland).

Who shall die while coming from the store (#MikeBrown and #TrayvonMartin).


Who shall die while playing cops and robbers (#TamirRice).

Who shall die while lawfully carrying a weapon (#PhilandoCastile, #FreddieGray).

Who shall die while on the shoulder of the road with car problems (#CoreyJones #TerrenceCrutcher).

Who shall die in the first hours of the new year (#OscarGrant)

Who shall die while shopping at Walmart (#JohnCrawford).

Who shall die while cashing a check in peace (#YvonneSmallwood).


Who shall die while reading a book in their own car (#KeithScott).

Who shall die while taking a walk with their stepfather (#CliffordGlover).


Who shall die while reaching for their wallet (#AmadouDiallo).

Who shall die while running away (#WalterScott).


Who shall die while asking a cop a question (#RandyEvans).

Who shall die while begging for their life, their breath (#EricGarner #GeorgeFloyd).


Who shall die by the effects of supremacy, greed, and apathy

…who by beast, indeed


“But repentance, prayer and charity temper judgment’s severe decree”

“But repentance, prayer and charity avert judgment’s severe decree?”

But turningconnection and giving, these return us to our Gd?

Whose repentance? Whose prayer? Whose charity?

Temper, please temper

Temper already! Temper… 

For sins against God, the Day of Atonement brings forgiveness; for sins against one’s fellowman, the Day of Atonement brings no forgiveness till he has become reconciled with the fellowman he wronged. (Mishnah Yoma 8:9)

“The Day of Atonement brings no forgiveness 

till he has become reconciled with the fellowman he wronged.”

When will you atone? How will you atone?


For you, like us, will be judged.

You, like us, will return to dust.



Imani Romney-Rosa Chapman is one of the co-founders of Romney Associates, Inc. She has more than 25 years of experience organizing, educating, and developing curriculum for social justice. Her writing about racial intimacy and anti-racism at her Brooklyn synagogue can be found in the chapter she co-authored in UnCommon Bonds: Women Reflect on Race and Friendship (Peter Lang). 

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July 27, 2020 by

Susan Weidman Schneider: “Be the solution.”

I was part of an audience in the 1960s hearing Black Power advocate Stokely Carmichael declare that “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem,” an accusation that originated apparently as part of an advertising campaign for VISTA, a domestic iteration of the Peace Corp. The sentence scared me. I—I—was part of a problem? Then, by degrees, I recognized how I was wired (like so many of you reading this) to not stand idly by. The myriad problems that we all, every one of us, affect and are affected by—racism, grotesque economic inequities which lead to disease and hunger, gender and age prejudice, confiscated opportunities, anti-Semitism—these are some of the very large problems we all need to solve. Starting now, as the cover of this issue states, and moving into the next—and undoubtedly difficult—phases of our lives together.

From the magazine’s inception, Lilith has described itself and its readers on an identity grid, “at the intersection of feminism and Jewish life.” But each of us contains multitudes, and no single point can map a life. We all have many identifiers. Jewish lesbian feminist math teacher. Black Jewish feminist lawyer. Mexican-born genderqueer feminist Jewish artist; Canadian Jewish feminist mother of two mixed-race boys. Since its inception, one of the magazine’s goals has been to provide safe space for our different identities to find expression, feel valued, be heard— mainstream voices along with those of women (and women-identified people) not accustomed to being on center stage.

And yet, though Lilith has always welcomed diverse cadres of writers and artists, we want to make sure we’re opening our doors wide enough. Lilith’s archives (online at Lilith.org and IRL at Brandeis University) provide examples of Lilith’s early and consistent centering of women heretofore on the margins. Reporting by LGBTQ Jews and by the daughters of Holocaust survivors; memoirs by Persian Jews, women with disabilities, poor Jews; investigations into sexism and anti-Semitism and abuse by rabbis and pediatricians, fathers and strangers.

None of these experiences prepared us adequately, as citizens and editors, readers and writers, as Jews and as women, for the concatenation of assaults we’re now experiencing. The pandemic, the confrontations with racism, the venality of government, the helplessness of so many of the governed, the terror of an empty stomach, empty bank account, empty hopes.

As we prepare ourselves and others for the upcoming High Holidays, which this year may be unlike any other in living memory, indelibly altered by the need to protect ourselves from one another rather than seeking community in one another’s company, I hope you’ll find some wisdom in the “Now. Next.” pages you’re about to open. May we be guided wisely by our own experiences and intuition, by new and seasoned teachers, and by ancient wisdom about how important it is to engage. Bear witness, step into the fray when you know you need to, vote your conscience, be the solution—and the change—you want to see.

There are problems to be solved, and we’ve got to plan for their just solutions, together.


Susan Weidman Schneider

Editor in Chief


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June 9, 2020 by

Unetaneh Tokef for Black Lives

Friday would’ve been the 65th birthday of my first wife and her yahrzeit is this week. As I thought about the beauty of her laugh and the pain of her end, so different from those on whose behalf we cry out, the words of the Unetaneh Tokef—a prayer that inspires fear and awe during the High Holidays—came to me.

Both the Unetaneh Tokef and the impact of this list of killings of Black Americans (compiled by an unknown community member) inspired “Unetaneh Tokef for Black Lives”.

Each day we hazard our Black lives in the Court of the White World

We know our worth

Yet the white world is judge-self-appointed

We pass before you to be counted

12.5 million bodies stolen

1.8 million mercifully avoided your shores

Stolen shores, stolen land

10.7 million arrived unsafely

…times 401 years

…times infinite human indignities

…times ⅗ of a human being

We now number 47.8 million


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June 9, 2020 by

Where Was the “Peace” 400 Years Ago?

My father is the most peaceful man I know.

A few years ago, he came home from the watch store, and told us that the owner had said to him, “What would people think if they walked in and saw a nigger working here?” after my father had casually said something about becoming his apprentice and learning how to fix watches. In that very moment, I wish my dad hadn’t been the peaceful man that he is.

“… a nigger working here…”

I think about this story frequently. I was so angry at my father for not screaming in the owner’s face, or arguing with him until he had lost his voice. My father had let me down. I wanted him to fight, but I never told him this.

A few weeks ago in an argument, I brought this story up again, and in an instant I finally revealed to my father how I truly felt; how I felt about him walking out the door before an argument could even begin. About how his actions made me lose faith in his ability to defend the color of my skin. As he listened to my concerns, with his legs crossed and his eyes calm but focused, he soaked up the emotion that poured out of his 18-year-old daughter. That day, my father told me that if he had gotten into an argument, he would have been risking his daughters having a future without a father or his sons having to lock the door at night, because they would now be the oldest men in the house. He wanted to fight, but he had to choose.

I thought my father hadn’t fought that day because he gave in. I thought he had let them win, when in reality, he had decided that his life, vows, and the promises that he had made to his wife and children trumped everything. His family was more important than defending the color of his skin, in that rundown watch shop. My father decided to swallow his anger in the face of a man who only saw his Black skin, a man who perceived my father’s brown eyes as more threatening than the small pocket knife dangling from his own jeans.

My father chose us. He chose to come home instead of lying on a rug in a pool of blood, alone, and unable to defend the skin that would be soaked in the very red that is printed on the flag of a country that promised to protect him.

There will be more racist shop owners, there will be more blood, there will be more sons and daughters waiting on the stoop for their fathers who are never coming home.

Who’s gonna raise the kids of the parents who were murdered screaming “George Floyd?” Who’s gonna carry the body of a young Black man who has not even graduated high school yet?

My father is the most peaceful man I know, and I love him for that. But I won’t wait for my brothers to be the next young Black men that “fit the description.” I want to see my 13-year-old brother graduate from middle school.

I want to be peaceful, but where was the peace when my people hung from trees, naked and stripped of their lives?

Where was the peace when Emmett Till was mutilated and murdered at the age of 14? 
Where was the peace when unarmed Breonna Taylor was shot eight times in the comfort of her own home? Where was the peace when two men in a pickup truck chased Ahmaud Arbery, an innocent man, and fired a shotgun into his stomach?

We need more peaceful people like my father, but I won’t wait for his blood to be spilled.

So let me ask you again,
Where was the peace 400 years ago?


Makeda Zabot-Hall is on the editorial board of jGirls Magazine, where this piece was originally published. You can read more of Makeda’s work here

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June 4, 2020 by

Black Lives Matter: Read, Learn, and Act

In the wake of this most recent horrific moment of racist violence and white supremacy, the Lilith staff would like to share the articles we’ve been reading and rereading–the organizations we’ve been following, and resources we’ve been turning to.  

We also want to hear from you: what have you been reading, asking, wrestling with, learning from, supporting? Because we’re in this with you- committing to listen, deepen our anti-racism learning & act in solidarity with Black communities, Jews of Color, Indigenous people, & communities of color for racial equity and a just world. 




There are so many organizations doing incredible racial justice work. We wanted to highlight the following organizations that are run for and by women of color.

  • Sister Song is a Southern-based organization with a purpose to build an effective network of individuals and organizations to improve institutional policies and systems that impact the reproductive lives of marginalized communities.
  • The Loveland Foundation is an organization that provides financial assistance to Black women and girls seeking mental health support.
  • #FreeBlackMamas is an annual campaign by National Bail Out seeking to raise awareness about the human and financial costs of money bail and emphasize its impact on Black mothers and caregivers.



  • #JusticeforFloyd: Demand the officers who killed George Floyd are charged with murder is a petition demanding the along with Derek Chauvin, the other three officers be arrested and charged with third-degree murder and manslaughter. 
  • NAACP: We Are Done Dying is a petition with 4 main demands. These are to arrest the remaining 3 officers involved in George Floyd’s murder, demand appointment of an independent special processor to lead the government’s full and impartial investigation of the murder of George Floyd, demand reinstitution by the Department of Justice of consent decrees on police departments and municipal governments across this country that have demonstrated patterns of racism towards and mistreatment of people of color, and demand for sweeping police reform, including federal legislation mandating a zero-tolerance approach in penalizing and/or prosecuting police officers who kill unarmed, non-violent, and non-resisting individuals in an arrest.
  • Black Lives Matter: #DefundThe Police is a petition that calls for the end to the systemic racism that allows this culture of corruption to go unchecked and our lives to be taken. They call for a national defunding of police and investment in Black communities.


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May 29, 2020 by

We are Dying Because of the Fears of White People

“I’m not Black, I’m Jamaican.” Following in the tradition of many immigrants and first-generation Black immigrants, that was the tune I sang for most of my adolescent life.  I ran from my Blackness. My mother came to the United States seeking a better life. Until she stepped onto U.S. soil, my mother had never known a country where you could be shot and killed just for existing. 

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