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We, the undersigned, demand that charges be filed against the Austin Police Officers responsible for the death of 17-year-old David Joseph, who was fatally shot while naked on February 8, 2016, when a police squad car driven by officer Geoffrey Freeman suddenly descended upon David and Officer Freeman fired...

Please take 30 seconds to sign this petition.

A new kind of movement found its moment. But its future is yet to be determined.

#women

"We have to put our trust in movements."

In 2016, let's please do better.

Tom Mockaitis: Stop Calling Terrorists 'Militiamen'

Heavily armed domestic terrorists have occupied a wildlife preserve in Oregon and invited other extremists to take up arms and join the movement. Calling themselves "patriots" the followers of Cliven Bundy are protesting the impending imprisonment of two ranchers on arson charges. The anti-government radical leader has long challenged restrictions on grazing his cattle on Federal land. Neither the human rights organizations that track domestic hate groups, nor those of us who study violent extremism are surprised by this latest development. We are, however, puzzled by one thing: Why do virtually all media outlets dignify these people by calling them "militiamen?" They are terrorists, pure and simple.

The contemporary 'citizens militia' movement has appropriated and perverted the concept of militias in use at the time of the American Revolution. Lacking a regular army, the colonists initially relied on local bodies of armed citizens to resist tyranny. Despite their celebrated stands at Lexington and Concord, however, militiamen fared poorly against British regulars. The Continental Congress quickly established a conventional army. Militias did play an important role in winning American Independence, but only when they operated under proper authority and in support of regular troops.

The new American Republic was understandably leery of creating a large standing army in peace time, having seen how such forces had been used in Europe to suppress freedom. Its founders, therefore, wrote militias into their new constitution. The much debated second amendment declares that: "A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed." Gun rights advocates are fond of quoting the second clause in this sentence while ignoring the first. It would be difficult to exaggerate the importance of the term "well-regulated." Militias always operated under government authority, usually that of the state. In case of national emergency, state militias could be brought under command of the small regular army, as they were at the outbreak of the Civil War.

Militias are thus the ancestors of the modern National Guard, not of self-proclaimed "patriots" who show utter contempt for any form of authority beyond themselves. The extremists playing solider in the woods of Oregon are at best criminals and at worst domestic terrorists, and they need to be identified as such. Fighting extremism requires contesting ideology as much as combating organizations. These people must, therefore, be denied even the shred of legitimacy they try to claim.

"They don't get any backlash, not on the level that we're getting."

Many people said policing was plagued by serious systemic issues. Now we know just how right they were.

Racial Injustice; Is America ignoring the truth?

Shouldn't there be a raged outcry for justice by all American citizens who own a television or a smart phone? Better yet, anyone who has internet access should be in an uproar! I mean, does anyone know the truth about America's biased judicial history towards African Americans? And I am not talking about the old 1950's justice system. I am shining the spotlight on the ever-present unfairness Black America still fights with today. History has shown us how these biased behaviors have been allowed and now have become the premise of our country. Here is a contrasted time line of how America has progressed on the matter of racial injustice.

• On January 9, 1961, headlines read, "Rioting White Students force suspension of First Black Students to integrate University of Georgia". This happened after Judge William Bootle ordered the university to allow the Black students to attend their classes. • Most recently, this November, the University of Missouri's Black students have spoken out on their experiences with racism in the form of racial slurs, harassment, and threats by white students. Their cries for help went unnoticed by the University's administration until the University of Missouri's football team threatened to boycott the season.

According to the news media outlets, police brutality looks the same today as it did in the 1960's. The harsh treatment towards African Americans from government officials was not uncommon then and it is not unheard of now. Today, many cases of gross murders and vicious brutality are taking place on camera. Even with solid evidence, the cry for justice by all American citizens is still not loud enough.

Can there truly be justice when the blanket judicial system does not represent the African American community? There has always been a huge disparity in our legal system as it relates to racial bias. As long as there is no "sounding of the alarms" regarding the racial injustices we see every day from the powers that be, we can assume that both our White and African American judiciaries are not concerned about racial injustices.

In order for true change to happen we as a collective body of citizens must get to the root of the problem. I believe that God (or the universe or whomever it is you believe in as your higher power) is shining the spotlight on some of the root problems in America; but, are we refusing to see the problems even with the light of the truth beaming down on them? Is it ok to stay quiet in the face of injustices because you believe it does not affect you or your community?

The reality of the situation is: unfairness and injustice to one affects all. A race of people who have suffered through injustices throughout history will soon get tired and fed up. When this happens there will not be any rest for anyone. Remember the aftermath of the Rodney King trial? What about the Michael Brown trial? There are individuals who want peaceful resolutions to America's issues but on the other hand, we have individuals who are filled with rage and anger because they feel helpless. They are despairing because they are made to watch their sons, daughters, and family members be murdered on international television. It is like a slap to the face when some of these cases end in mistrials or the charges are delayed. The rage and anger this body of individuals feel will one day demand a payment.

We as a people must first acknowledge that there is and has always been a serious problem with racial injustice. The core of who we are as a nation must be dealt with. Ignoring the issue will not make it go away. The rest of the world is watching in disbelief as we continue to pretend that our nation is whole.

Will you stand up for your fellow neighbor when you see an injustice, regardless of the color of their skin? Or will you hurry yourself and your family members along as if nothing wrong is going on? How long will we remain silent while human beings are being killed every other day without probable cause?

In order to take action against the many criminal acts being committed within our great nation, we must not to turn the other cheek or turn a blind eye to unfairness. We must rise to look injustice in the face and say, "ENOUGH! We will not tolerate racial injustice or any injustice any longer!" If you choose to remain silent about the injustice in your community, you are not contributing to making this country better.

I take peace in knowing God will make wrongs right and in the end, He will balance the scales in America. Change does not come easy but it does come. We as a people must be willing to hold up the mirror to our own faces to examine ourselves to see how we have become so passive and uncaring. We should no longer hold bias towards another race or stay bias's within our own race. We must unite. Let's unite together and stand for justice for the sake of all our children and our future America.

Bio: Sharon is a Huffington Post blogger, an author of, "Chronicles of Pain," and a co-author of Best Selling book "20 Beautiful Women Volume 2." Her new book which will be released Feb/2016 is called The Thought Detox. She has an AA degree in Human Service Management as well as Chemical Dependency Trainee Certificate through the state of Washington. Her work with the homeless/addicted population has inspired her to share her story, this is where she recognized the importance and the impact of being transparent in helping others. The goals for writing these books are to help shed light on why individuals get to some very desolate and dark places in life.

Sharon Blake Author Maleeka T. Hollaway Editor http://mylifecronicle.org Twitter @Sharonblessedbl

Karen Fleshman: Dear Black Folks: A Love Letter from a White Woman

Dear Black Folks,

I am a white woman inspired to write you a letter by Lisa Fritsch's post, I Wish a White Person Would Write This to Us, reflecting on David Swan's letter to Muslims.

Love and accountability, not guilt, are the foundation of my letter. When I realized the magnitude of the damage my people have done to yours, I felt guilty for good long time. After ruminating on it I realized that guilt is an obstacle to moving forward.

I developed an accountability and action mindset about race. As my friend and mentor Glenn Martin says, "those closest to the problem are closest to the solution." I study race and share what I learn with my white brothers and sisters to influence the way we think and act. It had not occurred to me before to write to black people. I am grateful to Lisa for the suggestion.

My ancestors bought and sold and tormented and discriminated against your ancestors setting us on different trajectories that continue to in large part determine how we live today. On behalf of my ancestors, I apologize to your ancestors for our brutality. On behalf of my contemporaries, I apologize that so few of us recognize that the privileges we enjoy today are rooted in the opportunities we deprived you for generations.

White people systematically make it extremely difficult for you to succeed and then often treat you terribly when you do. Many white people continue to think you are inferior and that there is something wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you -- there is something wrong with us.

White people often make you feel like you don't belong or deserve your opportunities. You 100 percent belong and 100 percent deserve everything you achieve -- in fact you deserve your achievements even more for having to break through so many barriers erected by us to access them.

You live in fear of us, unable to tell if we are your friend or foe just by looking and so you have to wait to see how we act and then respond accordingly. As a mother, I am very sorry that you have to , especially your boys, to fear us and to take extraordinary caution when interacting with us. I cannot imagine how I would explain that to my son.

Many white people choose to live, work, and send our kids to school in segregation from you. Often when we do choose to live next to you, it's to gentrify your neighborhoods without sharing our social capital.

Systemic racism impacts your health and longevity: overpolicing, mass incarceration, and the poor quality of housing, schools, jobs, air, food, health care, and recreation available in your neighborhoods all take their toll.

We place dumps, sewage treatment facilities, and other services we use but don't want in our neighborhoods in yours. We allocate tremendous resources to incarcerating you while allowing public housing and veteran's hospitals to crumble. I am not implying here that all black people live in public housing nor that all veterans are black.

I am sorry to you, black men, for how we fear you, and how out of this fear, we persecute you.

I am sorry to you, black women, for the burden you bear for our fear of black men. For having to worry if you will ever find a husband and have a family because the ratio is so unfavorable. For raising children on your own because their father is incarcerated, dead, or driven away by the stress of being a black man.

I am sorry to you, black children, for all the disturbing images you have seen over the last year. I hope that you feel that you are loved and valued, despite how it may seem.

I am sorry to you, black elders, because it seems like we are turning back the clock after you struggled so hard to make progress. We will keep your struggle alive.

I hope that despite the incessant onslaught of aggressions large and small we inflict on you that you do not allow our madness to affect your self worth.

I wish that we would have more opportunities to get to know each other so that we would learn how beautiful, smart, funny, kind, and sweet you are.

I hope that more white people will begin to take an accountability and action approach to race. To recognize that the problem of race in our country is our problem and we need to change our attitudes, behaviors, workplaces, policies, institutions, communities, and society.

Black people, thank you for being my friends, bosses, coworkers, mentors, mentees, PTA colleagues, and neighbors. I want to particularly thank my many black millennial friends who are entrepreneurial, smart, resourceful and revolutionary. I have tremendous faith in you.

Thank you for all you have patiently and generously taught me and how you have stood by me even when I made mistakes.

I hope that in 2016, more white people will sit down for a cup of coffee or meal with you, invite you into our homes and visit you in yours. I hope that white people will humbly ask for your feedback about what we could do better and that when we do, you are honest and don't hold back. And I hope white people will apply your guidance.

I hope that we can work side by side with you to dismantle systemic racism and build a new, inclusive society together, a society that will benefit us all.

The way we oppress you harms not only you, it harms us. It deprives us of our humanity and yours.

Sincerely,

Karen Fleshman

27 Things Every Black Person Must Learn Before Age 12

The news broke Monday afternoon that yet another jury has declined to indict a person responsible for the unnecessary death of a black person. There was Trayvon Martin. And Michael Brown. And Sandra Bland. And now 12-year-old Tamir Rice's killer won't be put on trial. The message is clear: Black life in America is as expendable as ever. Every time the shooting death of another young life goes unpunished, subtle messages are communicated to young black people about how they should behave, expect to be treated, and navigate the world. These lessons include:

1. Be respectful to police, no matter what. (Even when they unfairly threaten or arrest you, ignore basic protocols, and use excessive force.)

2. Sometimes that won't help.

3. Sometimes that won't save your life.

4. Do not wear hoodies.

5. Or baggy pants, or any other clothing that might be misconstrued as "thuggish."

6. If possible, wear a suit at all times.

7. Know that not even the fanciest suit will protect you from being pegged "suspicious."

8. Your blackness will always be the main thing that makes you a threat.

9. Long before you even hit puberty, you will be regarded as a man, not a boy.

10. Skip the toy aisle with guns at your local department store, lest you be mistaken for an armed gunman.

11. Recognize that these lessons don't apply to your white friends.

12. Don't listen to loud music in a car with friends.

13. Don't Cosplay.

14. Don't hang out at pool parties.

15. Tread carefully. There's a chance you could be shot dead by the police before you're even arrested for anything.

16. You will be blamed for your own death, thanks to any past behavior that paints you in a less than stellar light.

17. That means bad grades, experimenting with marijuana, or taking grainy webcam pics where you're holding up the middle finger.

18. Make sure to have at least one or two "respectable" photos of you online for the media to use after you're killed. Preferably, a picture of you in a cap and gown (because only educated people deserve to live).

19. In the event that you are needlessly shot and killed, do not expect justice for your death.

20. It does not matter if your death is caught on camera, and replayed over and over on the 24-hour-news-cycle to the morbid fascination and horror of the country.

21. It does not matter if your name becomes a trending hashtag on Twitter.

22. It does not matter if people march the streets of your city, of countless U.S. cities, in your name.

23. It does not matter if your parents tearfully stand at press conference podiums and plead for your killer to be held accountable for your death.

24. More often than not, your killer will not be indicted, they will go free.

25. Across social media, people will post messages of disgust and sadness. But no one will be surprised.

26. This is not OK. No black person should ever have to learn these lessons and accept them as facts of life. No black person should grow up feeling unsafe, or feeling like they must prove their own humanity.

27. But, we do.

Tamir Rice was not on trial, but he might as well have been.

Rev. Dr. Susan Brooks Thistlewaite: For God's Sake: Why Don't You Value the Life of Black Girls?

The video is terrifying. My heart was in my throat as I watched this video of sheriff's deputy Ben Fields of Richland County, S. C. throwing a young African American girl over backwards, slamming her to the floor.

For God's sake, literally for the sake of God and God's creation of all human beings as in the image of God, stop treating the young, female African American body like it is not human, not worthy of respect.

Think of the potential for life-threatening injury as that chair with a young girl in it is flipped over, and then she is dragged across the floor of the classroom. It made me literally sick with fear as a parent and grandparent to watch this video several times.

What "crime" would justify this?

Apparently, the 'big offense' that this young African American girl committed to get her body slammed, flipped over and dragged by the white police officer was according to a classmate peeking at her cellphone during class. Per The Guardian (October 27, 2015), when the teacher tried to take the phone away, the student refused to hand it over, and when a school administrator told her to leave the class, she stayed at her desk, which is when Fields was summoned.

Peeking at her cell phone and then refusing to hand it over and then refusing to get up? That's her so-called offense?

This current video is so reminiscent of another Black girl's body treated as though it were just an object to be flung about as happened earlier this year at a pool party in McKinney, Texas. The officer in McKinney was placed on administrative leave; the officer in Richland County is also now on administrative leave.

But what do these police officers learn from seeing their actions on video and then being put on leave? Without strong efforts to confront the underlying contempt for young African American bodies, female and male, and specific training to change that, they seem to be internalizing more contempt not less. The police learning seems to be to close ranks, adopt a defensive posture and blame the victims.

FBI Director James Comey had to concede earlier this week that there was little evidence to support his theory that a recent increase in crime was caused by heightened scrutiny of the police. But his remarks addressing a police chiefs' conference in Chicago that he "sensed" that was a cause of an increase in crime in some cities were very revealing, not of the actual situation, but of his attitude.

Let us be very clear: blaming the victims never works to transform injustice into justice, it never works to transform violence into nonviolence.

And what do the victims and the witnesses of such brutal treatment by police of young Black women's bodies learn? Watch the faces of other students in the classroom. Watch as they try to turn away and make themselves unobtrusive, make themselves invisible so they won't become the next target. Watch the young African American child (and yes, he is still a child!) in the red shirt as he tries not to look, as he puts his head lower but cannot help but see.

What did these children learn in the classroom that day? They learned the lesson of white supremacy in America, that you as a young African American are not worthy of being treated with respect. Your body and even your life is fair game.

I said as a parent and grandparent I was terrified, but let me tell you that as a pastor and seminary teacher I am outraged and I am determined to cast the light of the Christian Gospel on this behavior and call it to account.

As religious leaders we have to confront the structural racism that is at the root of so many of these incidents of the gross and inappropriate use of force against young African American bodies. "Do to others what you would have them do to you," taught Jesus. That's the sum of the "whole law and the prophets." (Matthew 7:12)

It is also the sum and substance of being a decent human being.

Police officers must be retrained not only in techniques of nonviolent communication and conflict mediation, but also in equal respect for and treatment of African Americans in body, mind and spirit.

This is a moral and a civil imperative.

Dominique Matti: Why I'm Absolutely an Angry Black Woman

Because when I was five, my kindergarten classmate told me I couldn't be the princess in the game we were playing because black girls couldn't be princesses. Because I was in third grade the first time a teacher seemed shocked at how "well-spoken" I was. Because in fourth grade I was told my crush didn't like black girls.

Because in sixth grade a different crush told me I was pretty -- for a black girl. Because in 7th grade my predominantly black suburban neighborhood was nicknamed "Spring Ghettos" instead of calling it its name (Spring Meadows). Because I was in 8th grade the first time I was called an Oreo and told that I "wasn't really black" like it was a compliment.

Because in 9th grade when I switched schools a boy told me he knew I had to be mixed with something to be so pretty. Because in 10th grade my group of friends and I were called into an office and asked if we were a gang, or if we had father figures. Because in 11th grade my AP English teacher told me that I didn't write like a college-bound student (though I later scored perfectly on the exam).

Because when I volunteered in Costa Rica that summer, I was whistled at and called Negrita. Because when I asked my host father if that was like being called nigger, he said, no, it was a compliment because black women are perceived to be very good in bed. Because I was a kid.

Because I watched from the bleachers while the school resource officer didn't let my brother into a football game after mistaking him for another black boy who was banned. Because the school resource officer maced him for insisting he was wrong. Because I was suspended for telling the school resource officer he didn't deserve respect. Because my senior year boyfriend said nigger.

Because I was one of two black girls in the freshman class at my college. Because at meetings to talk about how to attract more black students, someone suggested that the school attracted a certain demographic (sustainable living, farming, general hippiness) and that maybe black people "just weren't interested in things like that." Because my college boyfriend called me a "fiery negress" as a joke when he ordered for me at a restaurant. Because the boyfriend after that cut me off for saying he was privileged. Because I can't return to my hometown without getting pulled over.

Because when I got married people assumed I was pregnant. Because people who know I'm married call my husband my "baby daddy." Because my pregnancy with my son was plagued with videos of black lives being taken in cold blood. Because their murderers still walk the streets.

Because the nation sent me a message that my son's life didn't matter. Because when Tamir Rice was murdered I curled up on the bed and sobbed, cupping my belly. Because my son heard me sobbing from the inside. Because they don't care about us. Because when I was 7 months pregnant my neighbor asked me to help him move a dresser up a flight of stairs.

Because I am not seen as a woman. Because I am not allowed to be fragile. Because the nurse that checked me in at the hospital to deliver wouldn't look my husband in the eye. Because the vast majority of people won't look my husband in the eye. Because when the doctors put my son in my arms and I saw that he was as dark as his father, I knew life would be even harder for him.

Because he will be regarded the same way I was. Because he will be forced to grow up before he is grown. Because strangers at the store think it's okay to reach into my son's stroller and touch him without a word to me. Because we aren't entitled to boundaries. Because they think we are here for their enjoyment. Because people don't think we are people.

Because my nephew told me he couldn't be Spider Man like he wants to because Spider Man is white. Because when he was four he said that he wants to be white so that he can go on a boat like the people on TV. Because I couldn't save him from that. Because I can't protect my son. Because I can't protect myself.

Because my stomach sinks whenever I see a police car. Because when my husband leaves the house at night I am afraid he'll be killed for looking like somebody. Because I worry that if I went missing like the 64,000 other black women in this nation, the authorities wouldn't try hard to find me. Because I am disposable. Because I am hated. Because we keep dying. Because they justify our deaths. Because no one is held accountable. Because I am gas lighted.

Because I have been told that by speaking about being oppressed I am victimizing myself. Because our murders are filmed and still pardoned. Because I don't know what it means to let loose. Because doing the things that my white peers do with ease could cost me my life -- trespassing in abandoned buildings, smoking joints, wearing a hoodie, looking an officer in the eye, playing music loudly, existing. Because I am afraid to relax. Because I am traumatized.

Because there isn't a place in the world white supremacy hasn't touched.

Because I am trapped here. Because the playing field isn't leveled. Because I love my skin. Because I love being a woman. Because not hating myself is considered radical. Because I've been called racist for defending myself. Because all the major protests are for cis black men. Because I've been told that talking about the women who've died is taking away from the real issue.

Because I get no break from fighting. Because everything is a struggle. Because my anger isn't validated. Because they don't care about my pain. Because they don't believe in my pain. Because they forgive themselves without atoning. Because I'm not free. Because the awareness of it permeates everything. Because it's not ending. Because they teach the children that it's already ended. Because someone will assert their supremacy over me today. Because they'll do it tomorrow.

Because I want more. Because I deserve better.

This post originally appeared on Those People.

In the report "Who Owns the Land," the U.S. Department of Agriculture disclosed all of Black America only owns just under 8 million acres. In fact, it was further explained that African Americans own less than one percent of U.S. rural land, worth a mere 14 billion dollars.

Jeff Olivet: Homelessness Is a Symptom of Racism

[This blog is the second in a series about the intersection of race and homelessness. Click here to read the first installment.]

The United States faces a deeply troublesome, maddeningly persistent racial gap in income and wealth -- a gap that is growing, not shrinking. According to McKernan and colleagues at the Urban Institute, the income ratio between whites and blacks is approximately 2:1, a number that has remained essentially unchanged over the past three decades. More troublesome is the 6:1 wealth ratio between whites and blacks. This suggests that white privilege dominates and results in greater financial prosperity for whites, while leaving black families and individuals out of the nation's economic growth and recovery.

Discrimination in housing remains a consistent driver of racial inequality among people who are homeless. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) reported that people of color are shown fewer rental units and more often denied leases based on credit history compared to white renters. Discrimination creates the circumstances in which African Americans are more likely to experience homelessness. It also creates significant barriers to exiting homelessness.

The National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty argues that "homelessness and the lack of affordable housing in the United States of America have a disparate racial impact, in violation of the United States' obligations under the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination." The fact that our nation has created a housing system that perpetuates racial inequality is not merely a historical relic. It runs counter to our international obligations and jeopardizes our moral standing as a global superpower with the potential to provide an example to other nations about how affluent countries should provide for their poorest citizens.

Similarly, racism and discrimination continue to keep unemployment rates high among African Americans and to increase the risk for homelessness. According to Pager and Shepherd, African Americans are twice as likely as whites to be unemployed, while Hispanics are only slightly affected. Studies have consistently found that applicants with stereotypically black names (e.g., Jamal, Lakisha) receive 50 percent fewer callbacks for job interviews than candidates with white-sounding names (e.g., Brad, Emily). When the deck is stacked against African Americans in the labor market, homelessness becomes increasingly likely and exiting from homelessness increasingly difficult.

Mass incarceration of people of color, particularly African American men and boys, further increases the likelihood of becoming homeless. One in three black men can expect to go to prison in their lifetimes. People of color make up 30 percent of the U.S. population, but they account for 60 percent of those imprisoned. In 2010, black women were almost three times as likely as white women to be incarcerated, and Hispanic women were almost twice as likely.

Incarceration shackles people for life with a felony record, inhibiting potential employment, access to housing, and full reintegration in the community. Professor Michelle Alexander has described mass incarceration as "the new Jim Crow" -- the next iteration of institutional racism, following slavery and the Jim Crow Apartheid system that ruled the South from the fall of Reconstruction until the civil rights movement. Alexander says, "We avoid talking about caste in our society because we are ashamed of our racial history." We similarly avoid the conversation about race and homelessness because we are ashamed that we have created such a system.

In an editorial in the New York Times on July 18, 2015, Isabel Wilkerson declared that we as a nation are at "Our Racial Moment of Truth." The current conversation about race in the United States is difficult. It involves police shootings of unarmed black men, Confederate flags on State Capitol buildings, and a church shooting in Charleston that killed nine African Americans.

To begin what Wilkerson calls "a more meaningful reconstruction... would require a generosity of spirit to see ourselves in the continued suffering of a people stigmatized since their arrival on these shores and to recognize how the unspoken hierarchies we have inherited play out in the current day and hold us back as a country." Americans can do better. We have the potential to be great, but not until we confront our racial history in an authentic and meaningful way.

My hope is that the national dialogue about race also includes a dialogue about race and homelessness.

Kanu Iheukumere: We Are Poverty: 'Being Mary Jane' Shows How False Divisions Thwart the Cause of Social, Economic Justice

Among the many nerves BET's final season debut of "Being Mary Jane" struck was the idea that America's growing brown population is poised to usurp any gains the black population has accumulated through the Middle Passage, slavery, Jim Crow, the civil rights movement and, now, #blacklivesmatter.

TV anchor Mary Jane Paul (Gabrielle Union) is recovering from a face-disfiguring traffic accident. The strong-willed black woman is worried her CNN-like network will use her temporary absence as a pretext to replace her, though her agent and producer assure her all is well. When a pretty, young, inexperienced Latina is hired to substitute, Mary Jane comes to realize she needs to show her face at work -- however it may look -- and make her power and presence known so no one gets any ideas she's easily replaced.

The crabs-in-a-barrel mentality this scenario evokes says a lot about how marginalized groups can be pitted against one another when they face the same issues -- access to opportunity. It underscores many of the issues faced by those trying to fight poverty in the United States and globally, because it is precisely these social constructs that distract communities of interests impacted by the same events from working together to achieve a common goal.

During a recent convening of the Opportunity Collaboration in Ixtapa, Mexico, more than 400 funders, activists, policy makers and thought-leaders, including myself, examined barriers to addressing poverty around the world. While poverty is not the same in Chicago as it is in Guatemala City, Damascus, New Delhi, Nairobi, Berlin, or Hong Kong there are several commonalities transcending place, spaces and institutions that weave its victims into a common mosaic of economic suppression.

Regardless of locale, the powerful and privileged tend to exploit social constructs as repressive tools that benefit a wealthy few over an impoverished many:

In the United States, a construct of race is exploited to justify skewing access and opportunity toward whites versus other racial minorities.

In Latin America, economies, driven by pressure from the global marketplace and political corruption, punish the rural poor by exploiting the social construct of class.

In the Middle East, sectarian constructs are exploited by the powerful to force their poor to leave their homes, as the mass Syrian migration shows.

In India, the social construct of caste is used to create barriers to jobs and fair business practices to maintain economic success for all classes.

Though I work to eradicate poverty and create paths to well-paying jobs for economically marginalized West Side residents in Chicago, I realize my poverty is no different than anyone else's poverty. And if the problem is the same, then a common set of strategies can be used to address it. Lord knows we need more powerful tools to fight poverty and the events that hamper our ability to stay focused. Case in point:

As the recent Chicago School Board scandal shows, people in power often collude to exploit the poor, which exacerbates poverty. Yes, "collude" is a strong word to describe how a seven-member school board would trust a superintendent and vote on a $20 million no-bid contract without question. The idea of such a large contract, serving many, many poor children, being "no-bid" is absurd.

When now-former Supt. Barbara Byrd Bennett was lining her pockets, who was addressing the fallout of mass school closures in the race toward charters, whose biggest claim to fame is enriching those who run them? If education is the great equalizer, who saw after the needs of a student body where 86 percent are economically disadvantaged?

Globally, bias against immigrants keeps many people entrenched in poverty. For example, in the European Union, half ofpeople whose parents were immigrants are likely to be jobless compared with those with native-born parents, according to OECD Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development), which works to stimulate economic opportunity.

Societies that fail to educate girls is a particularly insidious form of impoverishment. No one illustrates this challenge more than Nobel Peace Prize winner and activist Malala Yousafzai, shot in the head by the Taliban for encouraging girls to get an education.

Acknowledging the role of corruption and false dichotomies is a step toward addressing poverty, the problem that vexes us all. But what are we willing to "go to the mat" for? Bold courage and unconventional approaches are prerequisites for solving systemic problems. They are rarely solved by employing tepid and status quo-tried-and-failed strategies. Those of us fighting poverty believe collaboration, networking and supporting those affected in creating a groundswell of discontent with convention are good starting places.

Now, true collaboration is risky, because is presupposes residents, institutions and governments are working together and not simply trying to get something. Anti-poverty efforts suffer from a lot of shallow victories when "getting me what I want" masquerades as collaboration. If we allow spurious issues to separate us, the winners stack the deck and will always win... and so will poverty. Do some people have to lose in order for others to win or can we build a society where everyone claims victory?

Networking is half serendipity, half intentionality. Forget the corporatized, speed-dating version of networking events where most community-based organizations, and institutions unsuccessfully jockey to get the attention of the big funder or big name. While those people and institutions count, so does more frequent information shares, as individuals and organizations tap common sources of strength in our passions, ideas and personal experiences.

Groundswell speaks to who is not in the room. Do we ask poor people for solutions on the things that impact most, or do we talk around them? We must ask ourselves, for example, how we can support communities in not only roaring at the rallies but also raising their voices above a whisper at the polls when bad policy looms?

The problem isn't violence, bad parenting, family structure, poor teachers; these are symptoms of poverty, the overriding driver of these things. Likewise, the spunky Latina substitute anchor isn't the fictional Mary Jane's problem; it's a racist institution, the network she works for, which can only see fit to extend equal opportunity to one minority at a time. Like a Donald Trump campaign stop, the presence of distracting narratives keep us from pulling together for workable solutions at home and abroad.

Now that we know, we can do better.

Reggie Harris: Randi and Eva: Stop Suspending Our Babies!

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending the #BlackStudentLivesMatter forum in Oakland, California. At this event I had a chance to hear many compelling stories, including the story of Cameron Simmons, the Youth Advocate from Restorative Justice Oakland Youth; the story of a boy who was first suspended at the age of four for allegedly stealing his own candy; the story of a young man who was suspended over 150 times during his school career and is still standing and free to talk about it; the story of a young man who shared an almost identical (however more impressive) story to my own. My first three suspensions came in the second grade as well as my first recommendation for expulsion for things that would now be considered "willful defiance."

Recently, Eva Moskowitz, the President of one of New York City's largest charter schools, Success Academy - and a former councilwoman - appeared on "PBS Newshour" and American Federation of Teachers President Randi Weingarten wrote a piece in the Huffington Post, both discussed school discipline and its effects on Black students. While I genuinely appreciate their intentions I can't help but to be troubled when I hear Ms. Moskowitz express, "If you get it right in the early years, you actually have to suspend far less when the kids are older, because they understand what is expected of them." Equally troubling was her reference to "sexually explicit language" as an example and a reason for mandatory suspension, which demonstrates both a cultural disconnect and an implicit bias. Daytime television is packed with sexually explicit language, not to mention radio. Sending a kid home to watch Maury and Jerry Springer for three straight days and expecting them to return with a more collegial vocabulary is simply illogical.

Ms. Weingarten seems to be a bit more on the mark with her actions and rhetoric, most notably joining protests in support of Eric Garner, but when she expresses, according to a recent AFT press release, "How many times did I cross the street because I was afraid of some hooded men?" I have to question how often she carried that implicit bias into the classroom, as it would indicate that she fears her students, therefore putting them at a greater risk of being removed from the classroom. In this same press release, Ms. Weingarten recommends that the American Federation of Teachers, "continue and expand its work with the Conferences of Chief Justices to help establish engagement strategies to bridge the gap between minority and low-income communities and court leadership through collaborative efforts that will increase public trust and confidence in the states' courts." I question the logic behind engaging youth in, let alone expanding or increasing, any contact with the court systems, particularly when we know that the court system is set up to subjugate and ensnare Black Lives.

During the PBS piece that featured Success Academy, Marie Chauvet-Monchick, principal at P.S. 138 in Brooklyn, was asked about her use of suspensions. In response, she stated, "No, I can't. I can't see it. I don't see the benefit of it. When you send a child home, the child is missing instruction. So, I'm actually robbing the child of an education if I suspend the child." From my perspective, this is an approach of love and the expectation that the student can - and deserves to - receive an education. Other than her statement on suspensions the fact that she was a Black woman feeling this way and acting this way was in stark contrast to the other two educators. It led me to reflect on the fact that although I have only had three Black teachers throughout my education, I have never been suspended by one of them. I was pulled out of public school after my mother got sick of my being ostracized, and was placed into a school run by master educator Marva N. Collins, where I didn't receive as much as a detention. Being a Black woman, Ms. Collins perfected her methodology on her own Black children that were in a system not designed for them and started a school with the students who had been expelled. She did this so well that she became an expert at educating the "unteachable" kids on the Westside of Chicago because she loved them and had high expectations.

To Ms. Markowitz and Ms. Weingarten: the best action that either of you can take for Black kids is to decide to stop suspending them now. Commit to the hard work of being creative in finding new restorative justice models. Support organizations that truly consist of the people that they are supposed to help. Too often in labor - especially in education reform - there are groups who do the work for saving Black and Brown folks but whose boards are all White with the top positions and pay going to White individuals, ironically leaving the Black and Brown folks to literally work out in the field for the lowest wages. There are organizations that have been doing this work for the people and with the people for years, making it simple for you to just plug in and support them. That is how to best use your "privilege". No need to hire and pay consultants who try to figure this out but ultimately do nothing. Send those resources to the Black and Brown organizations that already exist to show solidarity. Stand with us, not for us or on us.

I know that your hearts are in the right place, but the fact is that White women constitute 80% of public-school teachers, which suggests you are in a unique position to disrupt the school "push-out" movement (a tactic in which in and out-of-school suspensions are used as an arm of the school-to-prison pipeline) through direct action. According to the UCLA Civil Rights Project, during the 2011-12 school year, almost 3.5 million public school students were suspended at least once. Putting this into perspective, they went on to indicate that "the number of students suspended in just one school year could fill all of the stadium seats for nearly all the Super Bowls ever played-- (the first 45). Of the 3.5 million students who were suspended in 2011-12, 1.55 million were suspended at least twice. Given that the average suspension lasts 3.5 days, we estimate that U.S. public school children lost nearly 18 million days of instruction in just one school year because of exclusionary discipline."

Make the decision to stop suspending students as fast as you decided to empty out schools for a rally and make that decision with as much fight as you have approached the "opt-out: campaign where a quarter-million students in NYC alone refused to participate in high-stakes testing. We can't test or opt them out if they are pushed out before they can know what's expected of them.

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