Category Archives: Emerging Justice Seekers

Anyone Can Lobby

Anyone Can Lobby

Claudia Brock 
November 18, 2017

In early November, NETWORK Lobby headed to the Ignatian Family Teach-In for Justice (IFTJ) for a few days of presenting, learning, and networking. As a graduate of a Jesuit university, it was heartening to see so many young people excited about social justice and willing to consider how their values influence politics. To begin the weekend, my colleague, Jeremiah, and I gave a “How to Lobby” presentation to prepare the students for their day advocating on Capitol Hill — the culmination of the IFTJ weekend.

One of my favorite parts of the presentation was when Jeremiah asked who had lobbied before and only a few students in a room of over one hundred people raised their hands. After a few moments, Jeremiah asked again and this time noted that signing on online petition, calling a Member of Congress or tweeting with a political hashtag were forms of lobbying; suddenly every hand in the room was up. At times it can feel like the political process is hard to navigate or so abstract it’s impossible to engage in it, especially as a young person who is not able to vote yet. But it is important to remember that every constituent has personal power in their own voice. It was enlivening to demystify what it means to be politically active through our presentation.

A few of us on the Grassroots Mobilization team at NETWORK had the chance to meet the renowned organizer Heather Booth. When she was asked what it took to be an organizer or make any kind of political change she said, “You just have to love people and hate injustice.” Using Heather Booth’s qualifications, every student at IFTJ and each member of NETWORK’s spirit-filled network has what it takes to enact real change.

As Jeremiah told the students at IFTJ, there are many ways to lobby for justice. If you’re busy working full time or have other responsibilities, it may be most convenient for you to lobby your elected officials by making phone calls. When you call, we recommend mentioning a brief personal reason for why you support or oppose a bill (see more tips here for using email, social media, or for an in-person lobby visit ). Find out how contacting your Member of Congress, using social media and writing letters to the editor are great ways to advocate for social change.  Email [email protected] with any questions, comments, or to report back on how your lobbying goes!

The Importance of Intentionality

The Importance of Intentionality

Jeremiah Pennebaker
November 15, 2017

What do I owe to the generations coming after me?

I was always taught to “reach back as I forge ahead” in my life and that nobody gets to where they’re going without some help and guidance from those who came before them. So I try and take that to heart, especially when I’m in a position where I can speak about my experiences and expertise.

I had an opportunity to do just that this past weekend at the Ignatian Family Teach-In for Justice (IFTJ),  a conference for members of the Ignatian network  to come together to reflect and advocate for justice. Overall, it was a rewarding weekend of teaching, reflecting and discerning. My fellow NETWORK Associate Claudia Brock and I were tasked with educating various high school and college groups. We had the chance to talk to a multitude of young people who are motivated by their faith and values to engage in the political process throughout the weekend. Seeing their passion to learn about and do justice was very inspiring. At times I really felt that I was living up to that idea of helping those after me to move forward. I shared my knowledge and experience, provided them with insight on my position at NETWORK and told them how they can become NETWORK Associates one day.

What I failed to realize is that I would learn more from them than they would learn from me. The students at IFTJ taught me valuable lessons and inspired me to be a better pioneer for justice. I was particularly inspired at a session on what it means to be a feminist. I saw a big group of Black boys walk in, something I would have thought to be impossible, as it took me until my senior year of college to grasp the importance of feminism. So often I had heard and witnessed the lack of respect that men have for women — specifically in my friend circles– but to see a group of Black high school boys interested in feminism gave me some hope. I listened to a panel on immigration and heard one of the most heartbreaking stories of my life about a woman who lost her family to insidious immigration policies and procedures. I watched as the woman regained her resolve and spoke about how she continues to push forward even in the most daunting of situations.

I learned not only from hearing the experiences of others, but also by presenting at the conference. After my session on the Racial Wealth and Income Gap, I was critiqued by a young group of Black and brown students. Their feedback made me realize that I need to do better job of being intentional when I am attempting to “reach back as I forge ahead.” While presenting on the Racial Wealth and Income Gap, I made the mistake of only thinking about how my message impacts the white students in the audience. In my mind, I had only considered how the white students needed to learn about the horrific sins of the past and how the subject of racism is woven into our federal policies. I failed to account for the experiences of those who are too often the only person of color in the room.

I forgot about the times when I wished I wasn’t in history class surrounded by pale faces talking about how their ancestors didn’t think mine were people. I forgot what it felt like to feel singled out because slavery this and redlining that. I forgot that for the select few in the audience this was their daily experience and not just some educational exercise. I forgot maybe because I had become numb to being the token, a position I was placed so often. I realized that does not mean that I should irresponsibly place others in that position. I owed it to these students. They shouldn’t be forced to deal with both the reality of their situations and the potential condescension and or guilt of their white counterparts. I realized that it was my burden to bear as a facilitator to try and alleviate them from that difficult position in whatever way that I can. I realized that I need to hold myself more accountable to the people who look like me because I know they already have it hard enough.

I learned a lot from IFTJ. I learned what I could do to be a better example for the generations after me. I learned that as hopeless as the media may make the world look, there are too many people of all ages working for justice that I refuse to believe it.

Finding Beauty in Difference

Finding Beauty in Difference

Caitlin Wright
November 3, 2017

Everything is so…white, I couldn’t help but think as I emerged from the 72nd Street Broadway metro station on the Upper West Side. Not only were the people strikingly white, but the buildings, the sidewalks, everything was gleamingly ivory. The streets of Brooklyn that I had grown accustomed to were far away, both in distance and memory, as I converged with the other white women of one of the wealthiest areas of Manhattan. Though I was not sporting Givenchy or Prada, it was odd to think that superficially, I had much more in common with these people than with residents of the other boroughs. Yet I felt the most uncomfortable I had since moving to Bedford-Stuyvescent, a neighborhood of Brooklyn, as a Jesuit Volunteer a month and a half prior. I pounded the pavement — my attempts to look like a native New Yorker typically consist of me walking quickly in a distinct direction — toward the Church of the Blessed Sacrament to see a talk with a Jesuit priest that others and I admire very much: Father James Martin.

In his talk, Father Martin spoke about his most recent publication, Building a Bridge, a monumental piece of literature for the Catholic Church. In Building a Bridge, Father Martin reflects on the essential bond the Church must nurture between members of the Catholic faith and the LGBT community. After the lecture, I could not stop thinking about the discussion surrounding the concept of “the other”. Jesus calls us toward the marginalized, toward the oppressed, and toward those in need. He calls us not toward ignorance, nor denial, nor pity for those who are different, but toward solidarity; toward true empathy that we are unified as children of God. Your neighbor, whoever he/she/they may be, is inextricably bound to you through God’s love. As Father Martin said that night, “There is no ‘other’ for Jesus. There is no ‘us’ and ‘them’. There is only us.”

In no way am I disregarding the essential recognition of those who are different from you or me, but we must see the beauty in these differences rather than allowing them to become divisive. It is far too easy to allow ourselves to see each person superficially, especially in this political climate. Even Jesuit juggernauts like Father Martin are facing massive backlash for efforts toward unification that are manipulated into cruelty and spite. Class consciousness only prevails in the greatest efforts toward understanding, when we ask a question and sincerely listen to the answer without malice. And it is only with this class consciousness that we can achieve a faith that does justice.

I thought about this as I exited the church back into the Upper East Side, questioning the judgements I had held about the diverse neighborhoods of the largest city in the world. On my train back to Brooklyn, I asked myself, had I been too self-righteous in thinking that I already knew it all? Was I inserting myself into a community with preconceived assumptions, allowing existence of the “other” to remain? When I arrived in Bed-Stuy, I promised myself that I would ask more of these questions, and challenge myself to see beyond. I am called to act with justice, not only as a Jesuit Volunteer, but as a child of God, and this call asks me to love and serve by being with others, side by side, in solidarity. Whether I am with my clients, my housemates, my neighbors, the people in my subway car, or even the Upper East Siders, the matter remains: there is no “us” and “them”. There is only us.

Caitlin Wright is a Jesuit Volunteer serving at Catholic Migration Services in Brooklyn. She is originally from Prior Lake, MN and graduated from Creighton University in May of 2017.

Distracted

Distracted

Jeremiah Pennebaker
October 23, 2017

“The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.” -Toni Morrison

I used to love watching football every Sunday with my parents. I remember the scene well: my mom, an avid New England Patriots fan, and my father, laying claim to both the Cowboys and the Steelers– the teams who thrived during his childhood– both screaming at the TV, the living room filled with the aroma of fried food, and the surround sound pumping the voice of Al Michaels throughout the house.

Football is a sentimental pastime for me, as I’m sure that it is for many people across the country. But like many others, football has become difficult for me to watch. Since the kneeling protests by Colin Kaepernick and a multitude of other players across the NFL have started, I have been distracted from the game that I love by something larger. I can no longer watch football without being reminded of how much my life does not matter. I can’t watch football without being reminded that as a Black man in America, I only exist as a problem that needs to be solved, an animal to be muzzled and caged, a commodity to be bought, sold, and discarded.

I can no longer plug in, turn on, and tune out of the daily distraction that is racism when I watch football. I can’t watch football without thinking that people care more about a song and a piece of cloth than they do about a 12-year-old boy being gunned down for playing in the park. It has tainted the game I love. Some in the United States would rather have me pledge allegiance to the flag than the country be a nation with liberty and justice for all. It is hard for me to stomach this and simply “stick to sports.”

Football was a distraction for me, and I’m sure for many others, from the daily struggles of life. Now, it brings my lack of humanity in our society to the forefront every Sunday when I hear about people heckling those who kneel in protest or see the overt and covert racist tweets about “ungrateful athletes.” I imagine that those people are frustrated because they are also distracted from their favorite pastime. This was something that they could retreat to when they did not want to be bothered by the distraction that is the Black man begging for change outside of the subway. The distraction that is the Black girl with the funny name and big hair who “only got the job because of affirmative action”. The distraction that is the Black kid at school who keeps complaining about the confederate flags flying in the parking lot. These distractions have infiltrated the sacred space of American football. It is no longer the noncontroversial space of hard work and meritocracy that Americans viewers are used to. They’re distracted because their once colorblind consciousness has been forced to recognize that these athletes are people too. Black people. Black athletes are Black lives and their lives should matter just as much as I want mine to.

Broadening Horizons: A Deeper Understanding of Poverty

Broadening Horizons: A Deeper Understanding of Poverty

Mary Cunningham
October 10, 2017

“You’re going to Burkesville, Kentucky!” the headline of my email read. As a senior, I had decided to lead a spring break immersion trip to Appalachia, where I would accompany 12 participants from my college to engage in a week of service, immersion and solidarity with the community in Burkesville, Kentucky. I thought I had a pretty good idea of what to expect, but as usual, I was surprised.

Leading up the trip I did not understand what rural poverty looked like. I grew up in northern Massachusetts in a small, upper middle class town. I spent one summer during college interning at a church in downtown Boston, an area known for its large population of homeless individuals and high-concentration of drugs. Having been surrounded by this on a daily basis, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what poverty looked like. My trip to Kentucky changed that.

Burkesville, a small, remote town in southern Kentucky has a vibrant spirit and a strong sense of community. And yet, as my week there unfolded, I noticed signs of poverty. We worked at the Burkesville elementary school where many of the kids were on a nutrition assistance program. Although the school provided some snacks, they were often unhealthy options. Talking with school administrators, we also learned that there were not a lot of viable job opportunities in the area. There was a large population of children and retired people, but there seemed to be a lack of middle-aged people contributing to the economic growth of the town. Seeing a community struggling with these issues was something I had heard about, but never encountered.

As an associate at NETWORK, I recently learned about the rural poverty I saw in Burkesville from a policy perspective. On September 28, I attended a briefing titled, “Urban and Rural Poverty in America” in the Rayburn House Office Building. One of the things that stood out to me was how a city’s remoteness and population size are connected to poverty rates. Research collected by the Salvation Army shows that states that are more remote and that have both high and low population concentrations tend to have higher levels of need than states that are less remote. Rural towns located far from large cities tend to have a harder time accessing government services and their residents are often underemployed. It was clear from the panel that these unique challenges facing rural communities make grappling with poverty across our country difficult.

Another interesting comment came from one of the panelists, John Letteiri, who works for the Economic Innovation Group. Mr. Letteiri noted that the decline of migration is one of the major causes of exacerbated rural poverty. He cited an interesting statistic: since the 1990s migration from rural to urban areas has fallen about 50 percent. Without mobility, residents of these rural towns are attached to the economic reality of their area. As I left the panel, I was left with a sharp reminder of my experience in Burkesville, Kentucky.

The way in which we understand poverty needs to constantly be reframed. We largely define poverty based on our own cultural perceptions, not the reality of the situation. As a society, we must take into account those who are forced into poverty due to social, economic, and political factors beyond their control and prioritize policies that support them. As poverty changes, so must our definition of it.

Who Are We the People?

2020 Census: Who Are We the People?

Lily Ryan
August 10, 2017

With the many ups and downs of health care and immigration over the last seven months, I’ve found myself quoting numbers and statistics all the time: Who receives benefits from what programs; which states have the most to lose if the ACA was overturned; numbers that illustrate immigration’s positive impacts of on a state and national level.

Thinking deeper into each of these data points, a more basic question emerges—from “Who are the people who will be affected?” to “Who are the people?” Every ten years we have a constitutionally-mandated census and we as a country get to ask this question: “Who is here?” The answer we find shapes legislation, budgets, and federal policies and programs for the next ten years.

Catholic tradition tells us that every person matters and that no one deserves to be left behind. The 2020 Census is an opportunity to affirm the presence and worth of our entire population, most especially those who have been left out of the minds and hearts of lawmakers. As people of conscience and members of a diverse and changing society, it is our duty to make sure everyone is counted and treated with dignity, and the fate of funding for the 2020 Census will have a major impact on whether or not we can succeed.

The U.S. Census Bureau is one of the most overlooked agencies in the federal government, but its work has an enormous impact on the functioning of the rest of government. As Congress shifts its focus to the federal budget, funding for the Census Bureau at the level needed to gather an accurate picture of the United States in 2020 is in serious jeopardy.

Funding for the census in the Fiscal Year 2018 budget will either establish or prevent an effective and efficient 2020 Census process . The GOP and the White House have signaled their reticence to allocate adequate funding to the census, focusing particular ire on the Census Bureau’s modernized techniques, including statistical and spatial analysis in combination with traditional mail-in and door-to-door surveys.

Full funding of the census must be a budget priority starting now because an effective census process will ensure a more accurate count of the population. Insufficient counting methods have, in the past, led to an undercount of some populations and an overcount of others.

The populations most likely to be undercounted- low-income people, people of color, young children and undocumented immigrants- are also the groups who are most at-risk as the GOP and Trump administration seek to make cuts to social programs. An undercount of these populations in the 2020 Census would only compound the exclusion and damage caused by the GOP’s draconian budget proposals.

An accurate census count will have long-lasting ramifications on the allocation of federal money for programs that help low-income families with healthcare and child care, provide job training and employment programs to people without jobs, and promote safe and healthy communities across the country. In a time of alternative facts and fake news, we should all agree that the census is something we need to get right.

Lily Ryan is a summer intern with the NETWORK Communications team.

Make Your Voice Heard on Capitol Hill!

Make Your Voice Heard on Capitol Hill!

Brie Baumert
August 1, 2017

We participate in the political life of our nation through an important task: by reaching out to our members of Congress with our opinions and concerns. Too often, our First Amendment right to petition to the government is overshadowed by other powerful aspects of the Constitution. Yet, this power we have is extremely effective, exceedingly important, and all the more necessary in our nation today. Beyond our duty as citizens, for some of us, our faith encourages us to be involved in the political process. The principles of Catholic Social Justice teach us that we have a responsibility to participate in politics out of a concern for and commitment to the good.

Contacting your members of Congress is easier now than ever before. With the help of technology and social media, there are many ways to get in touch with Representatives and Senators, including sending letters and faxes, visiting their offices in person, using social media outlets like Facebook and Twitter, writing a letter to the editor in your local newspaper, attending town halls, and most commonly, directly emailing and calling your members of Congress.

Since President Trump took office in January 2017, a flood of phone calls and emails has been pouring into Capitol Hill. So many people have been contacting their congressional representatives that voicemail inboxes have been filled to capacity, phone lines have been busy, and emails have been bouncing back. Before President Trump’s inauguration, many Washington, D.C. offices received on average anywhere from 120 to 200 calls in a given week. Those numbers have more than doubled this year! Congressional offices claim that during the week of January 30, 2017, the Senate received 1.5 million calls a day. Three of those days were the busiest in the history of the Capitol switchboard. The outpouring of civic involvement, especially in light of the recent presidential election, is evident, and is making a difference in the legislative realm.

Needless to say, constituent input does matter greatly. “Everything is read, every call and voice mail is listened to,” Isaiah Akin, the deputy legislative director for Oregon Senator Ron Wyden, said.

The response by elected officials to these grassroots movements reveals that civic participation works. Contacting your members of Congress matters, whether your Senators or Representatives are Republicans or Democrats! It is critically important for Americans to stand up and make their voices heard. Let’s keep up the pressure on our elected officials to represent their constituents faithfully!

If you have never called your members of Congress, I urge you try. It’s simple, easy, and effective. Here’s how to do it:

  1. When there’s something important happening on Capitol Hill, NETWORK’s Action Alerts will ask you to call or email your members of Congress. Make sure you are signed up to receive action alerts via email (sign up here if you don’t already) and sign up to receive text alerts on your phone from NETWORK by texting “NUNS” to 877-877.
  2. Read NETWORK’s tips on emailing Congress or calling Congress to make sure you’re comfortable and confident contacting your members of Congress.

That’s it! You’re ready to get started contacting your representatives. I encourage you to not only reach out to your members, but to teach your friends how to contact their members of Congress and work towards Mending the Gaps!

Brie Baumert is a summer intern with the NETWORK Grassroots Mobilization team.

Blog: We Won’t Be Silent Anymore

We Won’t Be Silent Anymore

23 Hours of Prayer, Testimonies, and Protest
Brie Baumert
July 5, 2017

Last Wednesday, NETWORK joined dozens of religious denominations and organizations in a 23-hour interfaith prayer vigil for healthcare. Together we voiced our opposition to the Senate Healthcare bill – the Better Care Reconciliation Act- a bill that makes immoral cuts to Medicaid and would drastically change the lives of millions of people, especially those who are marginalized in our communities. As people of faith, it is our responsibility to fight for and defend the dignity of all people, especially those on the margins of our society, and to advocate for God’s belief in the worth of all people to have an abundant and healthy life.

As a NETWORK intern, I’ve been so inspired by the work that faith organizations are doing to advocate for the dignity of all God’s children. These 23 hours were unlike anything I have seen before. I saw pain, passion, and promise. I witnessed vulnerability, I experienced agony and anger, and I felt the fear of what this new healthcare bill could mean for loved ones. For 23 hours, people of different faiths were all united in the mission to love our neighbor and to pray, sing, and speak out against the Senate and House versions of a new healthcare bill.

As Matthew 18:20 says, “For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.”  God’s presence was apparent on that Capitol lawn- in the people present, in the stories shared, in the songs chanted, in the prayers cried out, in the silence of the hearts. While we were surrounded by various powerful political institutions, the true power that night was on the patch of grass that held the hearts of those advocating for the human right of healthcare.

For 23 hours, people stayed awake advocating for Americans who depend on Medicaid coverage for their healthcare. As I sat there hearing story after story of people whose lives will be forever changed by the Better Care Reconciliation Act, it became clear that we are not alone. To those who have or are currently suffering from mental or physical illnesses, and to those who have a loved one who is suffering from mental or physical illness, we stand with you. Never forget your inherent dignity and worth as a child of God.

As people of faith, we all stand together, to advocate for our sisters and brothers. We have the power of God’s love and the power of our community, and that is far greater than any institutional power. Despite all the evident pain and fear, hope prevailed. Hope was there when the sun rose in the morning and cast a beautiful sunrise. I was reminded that we are the hope we need, we are the change we seek. That hope, that fire that burned inside all of us is as important now as ever.

This fight is far from over. For all of those who feel called, I urge you to keep sharing your stories. God doesn’t call us to be ineffective. God calls us to love our neighbors, to advocate for those who are unable to, to stand up for those who are hurting and suffering. God calls us to be a voice of truth, to speak out against this sinful healthcare bill that will take the lives of thousands of people and change the lives of millions of people forever. As Rev. J William Barber II exclaimed, “Jesus said, ‘When I was sick, you cared for me.’ He didn’t say, ‘When I was sick, you cared for some of me.’” As people of faith, we are called to be truth-seekers. We are called to share our stories. We are called to resist any policy that brings harm to our sisters and brothers.

We will not be silent anymore.

Brie Baumert is a summer intern with the NETWORK Grassroots Mobilization team.

Blog: Dialogue, Disagreement, or Both?

Dialogue, Disagreement, or Both?

Emma Tacke
May 24, 2017

“The new Pope is a humble man, very much like me, which probably explains why I like him so much!” Donald Trump crowed from his favorite podium, Twitter, in December of 2013. Although Trump appeared delighted to have found a kindred spirit in Pope Francis, I think most people would be hard-pressed to come up with any realistic similarities between our 45th president and Pope Francis. Our president, as we all know, is many things, but humble he is not. Even President Trump’s most ardent supporters probably wouldn’t list ‘modesty’ as one of his defining characteristics. The world was given its chance to compare the two men side-by-side as earlier this morning President Trump met with Pope Francis at the Vatican as part of his first foreign tour as president.

In fact, Pope Francis and Donald Trump seem like they could not be more opposite from one another. Besides the fact that they hold two of the world’s most influential titles, what could these two possibly have in common? They disagree on several important political and social issues, including but not limited to, immigration, healthcare, and climate change.

Did the president’s characteristic bravado and arrogance shine through this morning? Was the man who once said “If and when the Vatican is attacked by ISIS, which as everyone knows is ISIS’ ultimate trophy, I can promise you that the pope would have only wished and prayed that Donald Trump would have been president,” humbled at all in the presence of the pontiff?

As a Catholic and as someone who deeply admires Pope Francis, part of me wonders what could possibly be gained from this meeting. Will anything Pope Francis said to Donald Trump have any impact? We have seen time and time again that Trump dismisses anyone and anything that counters his warped ideologies. Maybe I’m coming across as too judgmental. Perhaps my resentment and anger towards the new president only contributes to the very divisiveness I seek to reject. My heart feels dried up and I am doubtful the meeting at the Vatican will have any true effect on Trump. However, maybe the lesson Pope Francis offers us is patience and a reminder to extend openness and respect to those with whom we have fundamental differences. This could be the Holy Spirit guiding us to call those neighbors we’ve come to verbal blows on Facebook with.  Maybe now is the time to reach out to those relatives we could barely speak to at Easter and say “I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

As we, the American people, watch our current president maneuver the weight and responsibility of the position for which he so mercilessly fought for, I am struck by this sentence from the Pope’s 2015 address to the United States Congress, “To imitate the hatred and violence of tyrants and murderers is the best way to take their place. That is something which you, as a people, reject.” Was this sentiment echoing in Pope Francis’ own mind this morning when he met with President Trump? Did he privately lament the kind of culture, seemingly lacking in empathy and compassion, our country has fostered in order for such a man to rise to power? I wonder if the Pope saw a tyrant sitting across from him this morning, or just a man desperately in need of redemption.

Is Your Feminism Intersectional?

Is Your Feminism Intersectional?

Catherine G.
March 30, 2017

I am a Black woman. Despite the marriage of these two identities, my Blackness tends to always feel divorced from the latter. Separate and not equal. Not equal because while there are shared struggles specific to the woman experience, not all women are valued or discriminated against equally and liberation for black and brown women is merely an afterthought, if even thought of at all. Separate because being Black in America affords me with a set of unique experiences that can only be comprehended by people who share that identity with me.  And, it is precisely this distinction that creates a tension between my two identities.

In our history, the majority of women showed up almost exclusively for white women’s causes. Not all women could vote in 1920 after the 19th Amendment was passed, yet that year is taught in high school history courses.  Enraged protests against the $0.77 women earn to every $1.00 a white male makes ignore the fact that for a Black woman it’s $0.60.  Thousands of women rushed to Susan B. Anthony’s grave after the 2016 Election with their “I voted” stickers.  While Susan B. Anthony fought tirelessly for women’s right to vote neither my personhood, nor the personhood of my ancestors were included in her fight.  Anthony once said, “I will cut off this right arm of mine before I will ever work or demand the ballot for the Negro and not the woman.”  And still we, as Black women, are expected to learn the history of Susan B. Anthony before Ida B. Wells or Sojourner Truth.

For me, intersectionality means acknowledging that there are varying components that shape our womanhood. I do not support any kind of feminism that functions on the institution of Whiteness or unearned privilege. Instead, I support feminism that is intersectional at every level. This Women’s History Month, I vowed to listen and seek out women’s voices that are not always brought to the forefront or celebrated. Women like Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, Malala Yousafzai, and Janet Mock who have devoted their lives to effecting change for all.  I vow to continue this effort and hope that all proclaimed feminists will follow suit.  Because as Audre Lorde pointed out, “It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.”