A Christmas Tale of Naughty and Nice (with a stock tip thrown in)

Even though I’m not qualified to give advice on what stocks to purchase, when to buy or when to sell, I am making a firm recommendation for what to put in that special Christmas stocking.

nike. stockingNIKE stock.

That’s right.

NIKE stock.

While my knowledge of economics and the stock market is minimal, I know a little about football and a little more about racial equity. So, here’s how NIKE, football, and racial equity all come together, tied with a beautiful Christmas bow.

I know the rules of football and can watch a game and understand what is happening. I even used to follow the Washington DC team (offensive—no pun intended—name not to be acknowledged) but stopped a few years ago. My connection to football, however, did not mean that I knew the names of many of the players. I had never heard of Colin Kaepernick, then quarterback of the San Francisco 49ers, until he decided, in 2016, to kneel during the playing of the National Anthem.

At about that same time, I started my journey to better understand the depth, breadth, and impact of structural racism, racial inequity, and implicit bias. Because I was hyper-attuned to conversations about race and racism—actions and reactions—I focused on what he was doing. Since I was just finding my voice on these topics, I appreciated his use of his platform—that of an NFL quarterback—to recognize police brutality and oppression against communities of color. From everything I heard him say, he never intended what he was accused of: demeaning the flag and the country. There is no question, however, that his very public action was polarizing. He severed his relationship with his team right before, it was rumored, he would have been let go. Though a proven talent, no other team approached him. By their inaction, not their words (they have never publicly stated their ban on hiring him), Kaepernick had been blackballed (note the term) by the NFL. In my view, that’s where naughty… and just plain wrong … came in.

Now, back to NIKE.

In September 2018, two years after Kaepernick’s first protest, NIKE did something extraordinary. This multi-national company, focused on sportswear and sports equipment, chose Kaepernick as the face of its “Just Do It” campaign. It was the 30th anniversary of the iconic slogan. Kaepernick had done what the NIKE slogan challenged. He probably didn’t consider the many negative consequences of his action, but he wanted to recognize the atrocities happening in America to people who looked like him. He took a stand and suffered the consequences.

In my mind, it was a bold step for NIKE, a major sports company, to go against the general sentiment of the organized sports industry. Football—the NFL—had turned its back on Kaepernick. NIKE, however, had elevated his courage and strength of purpose. The anchor advertising image of the new campaign was a black-and-white photo of Kaepernick emblazoned with the quote, “Believe in something. Even if it means sacrificing everything.”


Nice… yes, very, very nice.

While I cheered this move by NIKE, its stock price fell immediately, a bad sign in the business world. BoycottNIKE became a Twitter hashtag, and sports teams and athletes around the country announced that they were destroying their NIKE wear. I wanted NIKE to be celebrated. In my mind, they had taken a considerable risk and done the right thing.

All of my adult life, I have thought one person can make a difference. I didn’t know what I could do to show my appreciation to NIKE. Then, it occurred to me. I would buy NIKE stock. My purchase certainly would not make a difference like that of a major investor, but that wasn’t the point. The point was for me to show my appreciation. And I did. On September 10, 2018, I researched how to purchase NIKE shares, what the minimum purchase was, and then I showed my support for NIKE by buying shares of stock. As I entered the order, sitting at home, alone at my desk, I started to smile. It felt good. Now, over a year later, NIKE’s decision did not have a deleterious impact on the company. In fact, at the time of this posting, the share price has increased by 19% since my initial purchase.

Nike. SamSo, if the NIKE logo is emblazoned on the shoes, shirt, or gym shorts of your favorite niece or nephew, they might be ripe for learning how the stock market works (economics 101). And since they are already demonstrating their support for the company by wearing the products, now would be great time to discuss how this company used its social consciousness (social justice 101) as you explain why shares of NIKE stock are peeking out of their Christmas stocking.

Merry Christmas. You can thank me later for the stock tip 😊.


Can New Friendships — True Friendships — Grow 50 Years Later?

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” Nelson Mandela

I have a lot of friends. Some are closer than others. I think I understand what it takes to build and maintain a true friendship: shared experiences over time, mutual respect, similar values.

Earlier this fall, I attended a milestone high school reunion. My fiftieth. John Marshall High School, Richmond, Virginia, Class of 1969. I suspect that for many, a 50th reunion is a long-awaited event to renew acquaintances and recapture friendships. It seemed to me that a lower percentage of black than white graduates attended. I wonder if fond memories of high school were not shared equally by both groups.

The ‘60s were a time of great racial change in Richmond and across the country. My high school started the decade as a primarily white institution and finished as a mostly black one. White flight was real. The class of 1969 was probably the last one at John Marshall with a white majority. Our class felt the impact of the changing demographics. The black and the white students were classmates, associates in school clubs, or teammates playing a sport, but we were not friends. At least not friends as I consider them. We didn’t go to social events together or hang out at each other’s homes. Our interactions were casual conversations in the halls of the school or at school sporting events.

The Daughters of the Dream L to R — Debbie Riddick, Debby Smith, Marsha Ware, Veronica Abrams, Tamara Copeland, Renee Mills (missing: Jean Petties); photo courtesy of Tony Abrams

For my friendship group, the 50th reunion felt more like an inevitable event, not a much-anticipated occasion. We had attended the 40th where everyone, including me, mostly stayed in our old high school cliques, with only nominal mingling. As an inveterate traveler, it is noteworthy I even passed up a trip to Greece with another group of friends so I could attend this 50th reunion. I guess it may have been more important to me than I wanted to admit.

I entered the first event of the reunion weekend with a bit of trepidation. “Cautiously curious” would best describe my emotions at the Friday evening, Meet-and-Greet. There was a much different feeling from the 40th. It was welcoming, inclusive, people seemed genuinely happy to see each other. Racially mixed groups—genuine laughter and what-seemed-to-be real conversations—was what I saw and experienced. That feeling of camaraderie continued at the weekend’s culminating event, the dinner dance on Saturday night.

What had happened between 2009, our 40th reunion, and 2019?

A significant conversation about race had started in the United States. Did that play a role? Did we understand the dynamics of race in a way that we never had before, and did that understanding make basic conversation easier?

Over the decade between the 40th and 50th reunion, cell phone videos had captured startling displays of injustice that could not be ignored. Newspaper articles, magazines, television documentaries were layering messages about racial inequity throughout the popular media. And great attention to the topic surrounded the presidency of our country’s first African American president. Awareness of race and the disparity between races had probably become more prevalent in America during this decade than since the civil rights movement, the time when our connections as classmates were forming. Maybe these discussions and events were a factor in making the encounters across race more genuine. I wonder if the heightened understanding made it easier to walk up to people of a different race and start conversations. We did, after all, have a shared framework—the halls of John Marshall—if not a wholly shared experience. Maybe it was that recognition of only recently revealed, parallel universes that opened some conversations.

Top: Class of 1969; Bottom L: Carolyn Mosby; Bottom R: classmates: Steve Montgomery, Debbie Lunsford Webb, Harrison Marks and Tamara Copeland; Photos courtesy of Sylvia and Bill Craighead and Steve Montgomery

When speaking at the dinner, Carolyn Mosby, one of the few African American faculty at John Marshall when we were there, said to the group, “tonight we will throw back any regrets, any dislikes, any old grudges.” In those words, she acknowledged that many of the black students had felt prejudice, discrimination, aloofness, racism during our time at John Marshall High School, and acknowledged that some white students, consciously or unconsciously, through words or actions, may have hurt their black fellow students. That was real, but she wanted us to move on. Ever the teacher, she was helping us bridge any racial chasms that had existed and to recognize the passage of time.

Regardless of race, we had all been young with the callousness and insensitivity of teenagers. AND, we were the front guard. The mid-to-late ‘60s were still the early days of integration. When we were in high school, there was not even the semblance of a road map for understanding racial differences and promoting honest dialog across races. There were no experienced guides. We plotted that territory. Mrs. Mosby reminded us to cut each other some slack. We are all different people now than we had been fifty years earlier.

That is an important reminder. We must give each other room to grow, to change beliefs, and to adapt to new understandings of historical “facts” and current reality. Who we were does not reflect who we have become.

I don’t have white friends from high school, at least not yet. In the last few years, I have crossed paths with a growing number and enjoyed those connections. We are friendly, but not yet friends. But who knows, by the next reunion, some budding relationships may evolve into true friendships.


Non-smoker | Anti-racist: A Parallel Path to Racial Equity

Were you ever a smoker? I was.

The recent news stories about the dangers of e-cigarettes have made me think about that time in my life.

I grew up in Virginia, a major tobacco-growing state. In fact, it was only recently that marijuana pushed tobacco to number two in the list of Virginia’s cash crops. When I was growing up, Richmond was home to the Philip Morris Tobacco Company. A huge, cigarette-shaped edifice, with the logos of Marlboro and other top brands plastered over the structure, hovered outside of the main plant, alongside U.S. Route 95, a major north-south highway. It was iconic. Everyone could see it. Philip Morris was a significant employer in the area and even gave free cigarettes to employees. Every October until 1984, Richmond acknowledged its cash crop with an enormous parade, the Tobacco Festival Parade. Frank Sinatra was the parade’s Grand Marshall in 1948. It was just that big.

My parents smoked. Their friends smoked. Not only was there no stigma to smoking when I was growing up, it was almost expected. But I may not have smoked if I hadn’t had a cigarette-smoking roommate in college who looked incredibly sophisticated and just plain cool as she held a cigarette.

Now, I haven’t had a cigarette in almost forty years.

No Smoking No Racism 2
This image was created by Ciara Myers for the Daughters of the Dream blog.

One day a few months after I quit, I came into my apartment and realized just how foul it smelled. The stench of smoke was not clear to me until weeks after I stopped.  It clung to me and had been there all along. I just didn’t know it.

So why am I telling you this?  There is a stench to racism, too. Many just haven’t been able to “smell” it until recently. Now, some – a growing number — are seeing it, understanding it, and they are quitting.

Yes, I see the trajectory to non-smoking in America as very similar to the path to understanding and addressing racism.

Here goes.

Almost 72% of American men and 55% of women smoked in 1980 when I stopped. Smoking was embedded in our world. No one really thought much about it. It was almost invisible. Like racism, particularly structural racism.

I was too young to notice when Congress first warned of the dangers of smoking in 1965. I was nominally aware when the health warning appeared on cigarette packages and when cigarette advertising was banned from television in 1970, but I didn’t stop smoking then. The dangers of it were still too far removed.  I began to pay attention when a family member died from lung cancer. Yet it took the proliferation of messages in the popular media along with personal situations to get me—and many like me—to finally stop smoking. That constant drumbeat, the layering of messages from many people and sources, is what finally made me quit and led to widespread public policy like the smoking bans that we see today.

This is the same path to understanding and addressing structural racism and implicit bias.

We are at the point in our nation’s history where we are beginning to recognize the dangers of racism. Many reports have been released that speak to its deleterious impact not just on people of color, but on all people. I don’t believe that such a report has been released by the U. S. Surgeon General, but the American Academy of Pediatrics has cited racism as a “socially transmitted disease, passed down through generations, leading to the inequities observed in our population today.” The American Academy of Pediatrics is not alone; group after group is offering societal warnings. They are becoming cumulative, and they are becoming mainstream.

I needed personal situations along with research data to push me to stop smoking. Personal instances of structural racism and implicit bias are directly affecting many in America. And while the effect of smoking on me wasn’t known any farther than my family and close friends, cell phone videos and social media are broadening the sharing and the impact of personal stories of racism. We know their names.

Americans still smoke—16.7% of men and 13.6% of women—but you notice smokers and wonder why they are doing something so detrimental to their own health and to the quality of the air we all breathe.

And we are noticing racism more. It is important that questions were raised about the recent sentencing of a white women, Felicity Huffman, in comparison to that of a black woman, Kelly Williams-Bolar, both mothers seeking better educational opportunities for their children. It wasn’t until recently that such a racial equity lens would have been applied.

Like smoking, it is unlikely that racism will ever be totally gone from society, but we must remain vigilant and continue to notice, to talk about the dangers and to act, individually and societally, against it. It’s not enough for you to just notice your own racially-charged actions and quit, so to speak, you must encourage others to quit as well. You must use your voice to be a part of that needed plethora of messages. As Ibram Kendi, author of How To Be An Anti-Racist, cautions, it isn’t sufficient to not be a racist, you must actively be an anti-racist.

One day someone will start a post (or whatever the then-current form of popular social media will be) with “Have you always been an anti-racist? I wasn’t,” as they recount their personal story of understanding and then working against racism in America. And that might be a signal we have turned a corner and made significant improvement toward acknowledging and then reducing structural racism and racial inequity.




A RACIAL HEALING PRIMER: Reveal | Reflect | Recalibrate

I hear a lot about racial healing, but until this summer, I hadn’t taken the time to really think about what a racial healing process would entail. Last month, I posted three, separate blogs to capture what I saw as three critical steps. Now—as an end of summer recap—I’ve abbreviated and combined them here into one easy-to-read, racial healing primer. With suggested activities and readings, hopefully this post is a good educational tool for the traditional start of the school year.

Step One: Reveal

Most of us have only seen America from the vantage point of white America (because you are white or because our country’s educational and media experiences are dominated by the white perspective). Because of this, our knowledge of race and racial injustice is cursory.

This was revealed powerfully in an episode of the TV show, Jeopardy in the second round, double jeopardy, when all but one category had been entirely answered. Remaining on the board—untouched—was African American History. This was a special episode of the show; the contestants were all college students. Even America’s best and brightest were not ready for this category because little in their education had adequately prepared them. And—this is important—the episode wasn’t from the early days of the show, in the 1960s. This happened in 2014.

Revealing our lack of knowledge and correcting a white-dominated view is the first step toward healing. There must be a comprehensive and deep understanding of where we are and how we got here if we are to heal.

IMG_4828If you are ready for a deeper understanding, I commend the following three books and a recent mini-series to start your learning journey:

  • Stamped from the Beginning by Dr. Ibram Kendi. Dr. Kendi is a Professor of History and International Relations at American University and the Founding Director of the University’s Antiracist Research and Policy Center. The subtitle of his book is “The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America.” Dr. Kendi comprehensively reveals the historical origins of racist beliefs in a way that most of us have never heard. He is thorough!
  • The Color of Law by Richard Rothstein. Rothstein is a research associate at the Economic Policy Institute. The subtitle of his book is “A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America.” When one thinks about how much is attached to where we live (see my April 2019 blog, Home) along with Rothstein’s revelations on the intentionality of the federal government in ensuring disparate living areas, we can better understand different life outcomes, by race.
  • Remembering Slavery edited by Ira Berlin, Marc Favreau, and Steven Miller. This book, subtitled “African Americans Talk About Their Personal Experiences with Slavery and Emancipation” presents stories told by formerly enslaved people to HBCU students at Fisk University, Southern University and Kentucky State University during the 1920s and 1930s and to researchers from the Federal Writers’ Project during the New Deal. Like Jewish people who proclaim “Never forget” to implore society to never forget the atrocities that happened to their people, this book reveals the first-person truth about slavery that few know today.
  • When They See Us is a mini-series co-written and directed by Ava DuVernay. It captures the experience of five young African American men falsely accused of rape, their treatment when the crime occurred in 1989, how the media portrayed them, how the public reacted, their imprisonment, and their exoneration in 2002 when the real rapist confessed. This is an age-old story grounded in the perceived purity of white women, the bestiality of black men, and their lust for white women within a biased and structurally racist criminal justice system.

When you read or view these resources, you may notice they are hard to watch or to comprehend fully at first. Take time. Read and re-read. Make yourself watch the difficult parts of the mini-series. Is it hard for you to believe that someone would confess to a crime that they didn’t do? Is it hard for you to conceive that a private citizen spent $85,000 for an ad in a major New York City paper, calling for the death penalty? What leads both to take the actions they did? Can you see the layering of prejudicial messages that Kendi traces over centuries that culminate in the Central Park Five or in the segregationist policies that Rothstein unveils? Do you believe the stories of the formerly enslaved people or do you think they are misrepresenting or exaggerating that experience? Take the time to get in touch with your thoughts and your feelings and think about what contributes to them.

The learning must go beyond a personal level if there is to be real healing for our country. A short reading and viewing list are entirely inadequate to address 400 years of the African-American experience. We must include the study of our racial history in the core curriculum of every elementary, middle, and high school in America. Research has shown that preconceptions and biases based on race emerge at very early ages. We must address those consciously, with structured, well-developed curricula, at every level of our K-12 educational system. Then, we must embed a more in-depth study of structural racism and implicit bias into the curriculum of colleges and universities at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. We must graduate leaders who can see where we are as a country and how we got here so they can lead us to a place of racial equity.

The history of race and racism in America, its depth, breadth, and impact must be revealed and understood. This understanding is an essential first step to move toward racial healing.

Step Two: Reflect

IMG_3382Where do you reflect on the broader issues facing you and your family or our country? My place is by the water, which is where I do my most serious thinking. Over the last few years, I have thought a lot about race and racism in America. What about you?

When you really sit back and think, you sometimes realize how much you take at face value. A quick example: One often hears statistics about the disproportionate number of African Americans in prison in the US. In 2017: 33% of those imprisoned were black, yet blacks represented only 12% of the adult American population then. Why the overrepresentation?

  • Do you think black people are more criminal than whites?
  • Do you sympathetically/empathetically/paternalistically believe African-Americans have had a hard life in America and therefore commit more crimes to survive?


  • Do you ever consider there may be something systemic that contributes to this disparity?

If the third option has never occurred to you, add Ava DuVernay’s documentary “13th” and cartoonist Mark Fiore’s Racist EZ Cash to your viewing list along with adding Michelle Alexander’s book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness to your reading list.

My point is that race and racism in America require significant learning (and unlearning) and then reflection to get to a place where we are ready to heal. Have you ever contemplated—really reflected on—the racial challenges facing our country and the people who live here? Is it possible that race, and disparate treatment (based on race), may contribute to some disproportionate outcomes we have in America? Is it possible that some American “truths” were born of prejudice, misinformation or just plain old ignorance? You don’t know what you don’t know, right?

While we can all sit quietly and consider what we’ve read or viewed—and we should do that—I believe there are other ways to jump-start the process. Here are two resources that are based on deep reflection that you may find useful.

  • Waking Up White by Debby Irving. Irving is a white author who describes her growing understanding of what it means to be white in America, something that she had thought nothing about until well into her adulthood. Her “aha” moments started with understanding who benefited, and who didn’t, from what many feel created America’s middle class, the GI Bill.
  • White Privilege (2018) is a video in the “Putting Racism on the Table” learning series produced by the Washington Regional Association of Grantmakers. This segment features noted author, Robin DiAngelo. DiAngelo, who is white, is credited with the term, “white fragility.” In an easy-to-digest way, DiAngelo reveals that white privilege is not about income (the common misconception), but is about power, acceptance, and position in society that is “earned” solely by skin color.

Despite the well-meaning admonition, no one can walk in another’s shoes. You need a guide, a translator, someone to help you see the world through a lens you don’t have. I urge you to find a thought partner with whom you can be truthful. Have serious conversations about the racial reality of America—the small things and big—and reflect on what you think and why you feel that way. Share your thoughts fully and honestly. These conversations, the serious reflection, will bring you to an understanding you cannot reach alone.

Now, while I think personal reflection and conversations with a trusted colleague/friend will broaden your understanding and deepen your interpersonal relationships, the critical question remains: How can this country move to societal-level racial healing?

Well, first, the obvious: societal change doesn’t happen without the leadership of a person. That person’s passion will catalyze a small group whose energy then moves to a larger group and from that the ripples continue. The fostering of ideas and understanding among average, everyday people, like you and me, leads to a groundswell of interest and thought that can lead to change. But we need the leadership of people at the top, people in power, who want this change to occur. In South Africa, for example, F. W. de Klerk, the last president before the end of apartheid, a white man, and Nelson Mandela, the first president after apartheid, a black man, came together to support a process to foster racial healing in their country. This process should recognize the racial wounds that had divided their nation and then lead to healing and restorative justice. Fully successful? Perhaps not, but a vital collective step for their country.

Through a means of revelation and reflection, we can create a growing group of people who understand what has happened in America and why. We don’t have the leadership that South Africa had, at least not yet, but we can, and must, develop a focus on change and be ready when the needed leadership emerges.

Part Three: Recalibrate

Now we’re at the hard part. We must do something.

As a country, we have functioned in a certain way for decades. The systems/customs/mores that underpin our country have worked fine… for many. But for others—people of color broadly and African Americans in particular—embedded structural racism and unconscious bias, regularly reinforced, has created an environment many now recognize as wrong.

If we are to heal as a country, we must overhaul our racial belief system to enable us to recalibrate and fix a system of legal, structurally embedded, racism. This is a massive undertaking, but as the Chinese proverb states, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

Recently, I read an exquisitely crafted commentary in the Chronicle of Higher Education from Patricia McGuire, President of Washington, DC’s Trinity University. In “How Higher Education Can Atone for Its Long History of Racism,” McGuire writes,

“Renovation can sometimes cure outmoded structures, but sometimes the only solution is demolition and rebuilding. To make real progress in eliminating the structures of racism that depress the enrollment of black students, universities need to move from gestures of good intentions to real transformation. Rather than using metrics derived from the behaviors of traditional student populations—predominately white, economically secure, attending full time with parental financial support—universities that want to lead real change in eradicating the vestiges of segregation need to develop entirely new approaches to admissions, curricula and pedagogy, support services and measures of academic success that are not seat time in one place.”

President McGuire is talking about the complete recalibration of the higher education system. It is broken. It isn’t working for many students of color. Tinkering around the edges is inadequate. As McGuire says, “the only solution is demolition and rebuilding.”

To heal, that level of reflection and transformation is required. Reforms are unquestionably needed in the criminal justice system, in education, in housing, health care, and environmental justice. Large scale recalibration is necessary for almost all the systems that shape America. So, when I am asked, “Where should I start?” My answer is, “Anywhere, just start.”

Everyone doesn’t have the platform of a university president, but we each have a voice, and we each have a means to exercise it. A relatively easy, yet profound way to begin is by asking a pivotal question: Will people of different races be affected differently?

What if you asked that question at the next PTA meeting when a new initiative is considered at your child’s school or at a meeting of your professional association? You could ask your state/city/county representative when you hear a new idea is being considered to address a community need.

Just imagine the effect if we all asked about the differential impact on racial/ethnic groups. The discussion or planning for a new metro/subway stop or bus route, for example, might change if the leaders were asked: What neighborhoods will be disrupted or destroyed? What communities still lack adequate public transportation coverage? Is there an impact based on race?

Typically, when new societal interventions are considered, such as enhanced public transportation, the notion is all will benefit. Ever hear the expression, “All boats rise?” Think about it, even if all boats rise, the disparity is likely to remain. We may have achieved equality—offering the same thing to everyone, but we may not have achieved equity—addressing/improving existing racial differentials.

voiceTo fix America, we must have a heightened awareness and increased, intentional action. By asking a simple, critical question, you plant a seed, you introduce the concept of equity versus equality. When you put racial fairness on the table as a concept for those who may not have ever considered the potential for differential impact, you are playing a pivotal role in recalibrating America. You are helping us to heal.

I have always believed lasting change must both bubble up and trickle down. I do not minimize the link between the dearth of leadership from our country’s “top” and America’s lack of progress toward racial healing. I continue to believe in “We the people.” We can foster a new—better—way of thinking. We can promote fresh ideas and different actions. We—the people—can recalibrate America.

Getting to racial healing may be long and painful, but I believe it will not take as long or be as  painful as the journey of racial inequity in America has been. It won’t be 400 years. With an intentional commitment to racial healing, knowledge will grow, and behaviors will change, slowly at first and then momentum will build. It is already happening.