Park Slope Reader

Reader Profile

Adem Bunkeddeko: Offering Structural Change to NY-9

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While the worst of the pandemic is arguably behind us and the long road to economic recovery lies ahead, recent weeks have brought on new challenges and calls for immediate systemic and structural change. Tens of thousands of New Yorkers have taken to the streets each day to protest police brutality, lack of law enforcement accountability, and the fundamental discriminatory and racist systems that have targeted and hindered Black communities.

Now that the pandemic-disrupted Primary Election is only a day away, some New Yorkers are turning to new faces to create the structural change desperately needed in our country. For those living in Central Brooklyn’s Ninth District, promising change is tied to the campaign of community organizer and Democratic Candidate for the United States Congress, Adem Bunkeddeko. In 2018, Bunkeddeko narrowly lost the Democratic primary to seven-term incumbent, Rep. Yvette Clarke. Now, he is back in the race, centering his grassroots, people-powered campaign on bringing housing security and economic opportunity to the Ninth Congressional District. 

“We started from zero and had many hurdles,” said Bunkeddeko. “Now we have grassroots energy leading our campaign. This is the type of energy and support that is needed to bring about change in Brooklyn and in Washington.”

Bunkeddeko, 32, has spent his entire career helping vulnerable New Yorkers attain economic autonomy. A modest upbringing has helped him connect to Brooklyn’s immigrant communities, particularly those living in Crown Heights and Flatbush. Bunkeddeko’s parents, Ugandan war refugees who fled during the civil war, resettled in Queens and raised their New York City-born children in a one-bedroom apartment. His father, who came to the US with only $50, spent time in a detention center before seeking asylum through the help of legal aid. Growing up in a working-class, immigrant family, Bunkeddeko was taught to value the principles of Democracy and economic opportunity. He was one of the first in his family to attend college and received a B.A. from Haverford College and an M.B.A. from the Harvard Business School. 

“The decision to run for Congress in NY-9 was a natural arch through my experiences with community organizing and public service,” said Bunkeddeko. “My own experience, and the experiences of my parents, are similar to those in our community, particularly in immigrant neighborhoods and in communities of color. There is a hunger and a desire for change that hasn’t been met under the current representatives.” 

Bunkeddeko’s career in public service and the nonprofit sector began with the New York Working Families Party, where he worked as a grassroots organizer. He later worked with the Empire State Development Corporation, improving Brooklyn’s underserved communities. Bunkeddeko has previously served on Brooklyn Community Board #8, and recently served as the strategy and innovation officer for the Local Initiatives Support Corporation to bring economic opportunity to residents. 

“Roadblocks are happening in government,” said Bunkeddeko, “including roadblocks in Washington. We haven’t seen meaningful, structural change because those in charge are detached.”

Many New Yorkers, living in the state’s metropolitan area, are familiar with the financial difficulties of experiencing a high-rent burden. In some parts of Brooklyn, rent has increased by 20% or more, and some areas have suffered a net loss of 5,000 rent-stabilized apartments. Bunkeddeko’s Housing Plan includes fully funding the New York City Housing Authority (NYCHA), and creating a federal program to help moderate and low-income New Yorkers become homeowners at the lowest possible cost. His national housing initiative would see an investment of federal dollars to build 12 million public housing units throughout the country.

In a published article, Bunkeddeko wrote, “In 2018, housing was my number one issue. Now, two years later, the crisis continues as politicians allow investors to rig the housing market as they shortchange investment in affordable homes.”

Bunkeddeko’s federal school desegregation program, Race to Racial Fairness, redraws school districts away from historically segregated maps and provides federal funding for districts that recruit and accept students and teachers of color. The initiative also replaces law enforcement with mental health professionals and supports alternative post-secondary career pathways. 

The killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers has sparked national outrage and has invoked a larger movement to protest the rise in documented police violence towards Black individuals. Bunkeddeko is committed to fighting for equality and justice, specifically in low-income, Black and Brown communities by bringing equity and reform to the systems that are currently in place. He supports the ending of qualified immunity for law enforcement officials who violate the Constitution. Reforms to the NYPD and law enforcement, including the defunding and demilitarizing of police units, are part of Bunkeddeko’s plan to protect and reinvest in marginalized communities. 

Bunkeddeko is also committed to reforming the criminal justice system, which disproportionally targets and imprisons low-income individuals of color. Reforming the bail system such that pretrial detention is based upon flight risk instead of wealth, and legalizing marijuana while expunging the records of those who have possession-related convictions, can greatly reduce America’s prison population and bring justice to those who have been disproportionately and unfairly incarcerated. 

“I am exhausted and my community is exhausted,” said Bunkeddeko. “People with Black bodies are exhausted. Until the country is exhausted, we won’t see change.”

Recently, Bunkeddeko has taken to the streets of New York City, proudly marching with the Black Lives Matter movement. In early June, he rallied with the Crown Heights Tenant Union and NY Communities for Change to push for legislation that would protect New Yorkers who are housing insecure by halting all evictions while the novel coronavirus persists. 

One of Bunkeddeko’s most discussed issues is on creating humane immigration policy to protect refugee and immigrant communities from deportation while reforming employer-sponsored visa systems, broadening legal services available to immigrants, and creating a pathway to citizenship for DACA recipients. In an interview with Errol Louis of NY1’s Inside City Hall, Bunkeddeko said, “We’ve got an administration that is turning its back on not only immigrants but the values that made this country what it is— and why my parents were willing to flee war-torn Uganda to come here.” 

The Supreme Court’s ruling to block the Trump administration’s attempt to end DACA came as a surprise and relief to many. The decision to setback one of Trump’s crucial campaign promises, ending the legal protection of nearly 800,000 young immigrants brought to the United States as children, is provisional. While the Obama-era immigration program does not provide a pathway to citizenship, it is a problem Bunkeddeko intends to redress.

“For many people, the ‘American Dream’ has not existed,” said Bunkeddeko. “We live in a hunger-games society, and if we are not going to provide the basics— housing security, education, equal opportunity, and a pathway to citizenship— then people are not going to see the potential for a dream. If we can make lasting changes to these systems through policy, people will be actually able to live out their version of the dream.” 

Adem Bunkeddeko has been endorsed by The New York Times, New York Progressive Action Network, Empire State Indivisible, LAMBA Independent Democrats of Brooklyn, Leadership Now Project, and more. For more information on Bunkeddeko’s Congressional campaign, please visit the official website, Adem for Congress. 

For voter information regarding the June 23rd Democratic Primary Election, please visit, New York State Board of Elections. 

Caroline P. Cohen – Honest Engagement

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Caroline Cohen – Candidate for Civil Court Judge

When I spoke with Caroline, she was in the midst of another busy day, riding in the car with her family- husband, Steve, and two children, Daschel and CiCi. And even over the phone, I could tell she was full of energy, inspiration, and self-assurance.  Back in April, Caroline won first out of four in the Primary Election for Civil Court Judge. Now, she running unopposed in the November General Election. She contributes this major achievement to her honest engagement with the Brooklyn community.

For the past two years, Caroline has been a trusted Civil Rights Attorney, working for a small, “Feminist Litigation Firm.” What’s that mean? Well, exactly what you would hope. A legal firm that advises and represents those that have been discriminated against in the workplace – be it sexually harassed, because of their status as a caregiver, or for their maternity status. Caroline sites this leap into law and politics as the best professional decision she has ever made. 

She then quotes Gandhi, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” After the 2016 election, Caroline, like many others, felt a call to action. “I couldn’t be as mad as I was and not try to move into a position that could affect greater good.” These intimate feelings motivate many of Caroline’s personal and political engagement decisions. She continuously speaks about how she experiences issues very emotionally and takes things incredibly personally. Ironically, these are often the excuses people have for not electing women into positions of power. But Caroline is unapologetic with her feelings. Aside from showcasing a sense of humanity, she understands them as an opportunity to translate emotions into a passion and dedication for positive change. “I was filled with rage. But still, you turn that into something else. It would be a greater tragedy just to take those feelings and be like ‘Oh well, this is the world we live in now.’ No, you take it and you do more with it.” 

Soon after, she called her brother saying, “Well, I guess I am running for office now.”

Caroline with her campaign team including NYS Senate Candidate Josue Pierre

Similarly, Caroline’s desire to move into law came from her own mother’s inability to pursue higher education and a professional career as an attorney. Caroline states that the death of her mother, Carol, was the most defining moment of her life, because of the parallel similarities she saw between her moment of loss and her mother’s. Carol had applied to law school, but ultimately her father did not support it, saying “You have been educated enough. That’s it. Hard stop.” In the end, she moved on to be a successful businesswoman, but still, this loss was continuously prominent in the determination to pass on strength to her children. Caroline says, “She saw a lot in me what she saw in herself – a focus, and dedication, and just a belief that you can do it.” 

Amongst the great values inherited from her mother is the belief that “you don’t take shit from anybody.” Caroline too wishes to deliver this energetic self-assurance to others. She speaks to me about the need to claim your identity and power. “Be fearless when you’re speaking with people who are dismissive of you.” I can image Caroline working with her clients, giving them the same spirited motivation that her words project; providing them the opportunity, access, and tools to pursue that which other’s have tried to take away. And Caroline brings this ferocious devotion to all aspects of her life.  

“This cycle I hope to give to my clients, that I hope to give to my children, that I hope to give to my constituents is that if you come before me as a judge you will be heard, if you are my client I will fight for you, if you’re my child I will empower you to speak for yourself and speak for others.”

Of course, the transition has not always been easy. It continues to involve months of long days as it was never an option to take off of work for Caroline – she says, “My ladies need me.” So while holding her 9 to 5 hours, she would campaign on the subways in the morning, knock on doors in the evenings, and end her day with team meetings between 9:30 and 11 PM.  An almost unbelievable work schedule for a mother raising a 6 and 4 ¾-year-old. But as Caroline states, “I am the definition of ‘It takes a village.’ And when I ask her children if they think it’s cool to see their mom talking with all these people and doing this big job for the city, rising pre-schooler CiCi replies, “Pretty much.”

Caroline and daughter, CiCi speaking with friend

In the same way that the community has supported her, as Civil Court Judge, Caroline is focused on giving back and engaging the community. “And not just during the campaign, I think that’s a bunch of garbage. You have to be dedicated to reach out to all the corners of the community if you are going be a public servant and seek to represent them.” Caroline has made a major effort to connect with Brooklyn individuals in order to understand the nuances of each community. For example, providing comprehensive relief to the multi-decade affordable housing crisis or directly dealing with Islamaphobia in the Muslim community. She has been endorsed by Brooklyn Young Democrats, LGBTQ organizations- the Lambda Independent Democrats of Brooklyn and the Jim Owles Liberal Democratic Club, and the Shirley Chisholm Democratic Club. “What I can bring [to Civil Court Judge position] is a perspective and understanding of whom my constituents are. And it comes from living here. I have lived in Flatbush for 10 years. It’s a great joy to me and my family to continue to be involved in the community.”

As part of her community engagement Caroline co-founded Ditmas Art, a mixed media arts organization focused on political discourse. So, we wrapped up our conversation with a question that as a media creator I often ask others: What do you believe the goal of art and media should be? For me, the goal is to create work the provokes empathy. Caroline began by telling me a story of a former Art History professor who hated Steven Speilberg films, because “They told you how to feel.” However, she finds a distinction between this control and engaging one’s audience to make them think in a new way. She states, “It’s all about opening up dialogue. And that was really the point of opening up this art salon in our house. Because we were a community who were bereft from the 2016 election. And I use that word purposefully.”

She again recalls the night of the 2016 election with the deeply personal memory of retreating to her upstairs bathroom, so her son would not have to see her cry. In those moments, fear took hold equivalent to that when she learned her mother had stage four metastatic cancer. “It felt like the world had shifted under my feet. So I wanted to create a space for people to bring their ideas… And to allow them to begin to formulate thoughts. Because people were grieving. And it was an opportunity for people to grieve.”

“So, I think, in its best form art is just an opportunity for people to allow their thoughts to flow.”

Caroline’s thoughts, too, flow from her with purpose and energy as she speaks with me about these challenges, accomplishments, and sentiments. All which motivate her to bring that same confidence to others- confidence not only that she will fulfill her role as Civil Court Judge, but promise that in doing so every individual will gain a stronger, louder, and recognized voice. In our conversation, again and again, Caroline would proudly proclaim, “I love what I do!” Indulging in stories of the people, places, and experience that brought her to where she is today.

“I am very aware that I am indebted to the community. I owe everything to this community. It is helping me raise my children. It provided me a platform to meet my boss- who I met in my oldest child’s moms group. It has given me a spiritual stronghold in moments of political disbelief. And that love and dedication will translate to love and dedication on the bench.”

To learn more about Caroline’s Campaign go to cohenforjudge2019.com

The Reader Profile: Zellnor Myrie

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A Sneakerhead Runs for State Senate

Zellnor Myrie would like to introduce himself to you, Central Brooklyn. Zellnor — just Z, if you’d prefer — is the progressive challenger for Jesse Hamilton’s District 20 State Senate seat, and though his campaign only began in earnest in February, when he quit his full time job at global law firm Davis Polk & Wardwell LLP, he’s already covered considerable ground in the district, greeting commuters at train stations, marching in parades, attending church services, speaking at bars and banquets and high school graduation ceremonies, and, of course, knocking on doors. 

Canvassing held him up for our interview at a cafe off of Crown Heights’ Franklin Avenue, and though I’d met him only in passing at a fundraising event at Gotham Market, the energetic 31-year-old greeted me with a hug. Train delays. “There are parts of the district where it takes me longer to get to than it would for me to get to the city,” he told me with a laugh. I had to hand that to him, District 20 is indeed an odd one, horseshoeing narrowly around Prospect Park and encompassing swaths of Bed-Stuy, Fort Greene, Crown Heights, Prospect Heights, Boerum Hill, Carroll Gardens, and Sunset Park.

On a recent 90 degree evening, in the tiny stretch of Park Slope, in his district, I met up with him and his aide Godfre — who joined the campaign by way of a Twitter DM — and despite it being the first dreadful day of summer, Myrie looked cool as ever in his typical uniform: button-up, tie, dress pants. Loafers were the one irregularity for the unabashed sneakerhead. (“I take great pride in the fact that I wore Jordans and listened to Migos in the elevator of my former law firm,” he recently tweeted in a thread linked with #Vote4TheCulture. “Let’s show people that we can be fly and civically engaged at the same time.”)

Godfre also serves as an occasional hypeman, gently coaxing Z to knock again, a daunting task when there’s so much to say, and when one of the main topics on your agenda — the IDC — is a tough concept to convey period, let alone in the time your average New Yorker is willing to give a stranger. 

The Independent Democratic Conference, or IDC, is a faction of Democratic state senators who vote with Senate Republicans, giving them the power to pass legislation despite the Dem’s 32 – 31 majority. Formed by Jeffrey Klein in 2011, when Republicans briefly held a majority, members claim the coalition is a bipartisan effort to move legislation forward. Anti-IDC groups paint another picture, one of kickbacks in the form of committee chair positions (complete with salary increases) and a chokehold on progressive legislation, including bills on comprehensive health care, anti-LGBTQ discrimination, and reproductive rights.

In early April, Governor Andrew Cuomo brokered a deal to reunify the IDC with mainstream Senate Democrats, but the move inspires tepid confidence, and progressive challengers, including Myrie, still consider the strange political games a need-to-know for all Brooklynites. “We’re at a time in our country where we cannot afford to have Democrats not be Democrats,” the candidate, usually mild-mannered, stressed, “It’s just why people hate politics. Because you have people that come before you and give you lip service and they say, this is what I’m fighting for, and it’s all surface level stuff.” 

Hamilton, who ran in 2014 and took office in 2015, pledged himself to the IDC just before election day in 2016. “When it comes to the substance and when you peel the curtain back,” Myrie continues, “you see that nothing is there, and meanwhile we have tens of thousands of families being kicked out of their rent stabilized apartments because we don’t have the right laws on the books. Meanwhile we’ve got people in jail because they are poor. Meanwhile we have schools that are owed tens of millions of dollars all within this district because people have decided to play politics.”

Myrie’s quick to point out the different fundraising styles between his and Hamilton’s campaign as well. To date, Hamilton has taken tens of thousands from real estate special interest groups, including The Real Estate Board of New York. Myrie, by contrast, boasts that 100 percent of his first quarter donations came from individuals. Only time will tell if this grassroots approach will pay off, though; incumbents historically bank wins on name recognition and larger coffers. Add to that New York State’s infamously low voter turnout, even for presidential elections, and it’s a far cry from an easy victory. 

But this isn’t Myrie’s first foray into politics. After graduating with a bachelor’s in communications and master’s in Urban Studies from Fordham University, Zellnor worked as Legislative Director for City Councilman Fernando Cabrera. While earning his JD at Cornell, he served as president of the Cornell Law Student Association.

And he’s confident about his odds because he’s been talking to the people. 

Myrie is both plagued and inspired by the problems that lie behind the many doors of the district, like the senior citizens who don’t know how they’re going to make rent or low-income housing fallen into disrepair. “I’ve had people in NYCHA facilities bring me into their apartments and show me the ceilings coming down in their bathrooms. They’ve shown me the insects that have gathered in the kitchen,” he recounts. “When all of the other challenges of running and being a candidate surface, I remember people I’ve spoken to who really need help.”

As he often does, Z brings up his mother, Marcelina, a Costa Rican immigrant who came to the city four decades ago on the promise of a mattress and a factory job and built a life for herself and her son in Prospect Lefferts Gardens thanks in no small part to affordable housing. “That stability, my mom being secure in the fact that she knew that her rent would only go up by a certain percentage,” he shared, “I think allowed her to flourish in the other areas of her life.” Like keeping a watchful eye on her son, sending him to P.S. 161 and Brooklyn Technical High School, making sure he was home by 7 p.m. sharp and his homework was done. 

Myrie isn’t shy about expressing gratitude and love for the community that raised him, and it’s this pride and concern that brings him back, Ivy League law degree in hand, to legislate for social change. “I do not consider myself exceptional,” he is quoted in his post-grad, pre-campaign “success story” on the Cornell Law School website. “I have just been in the right place, at the right time, around the right people. My job, outside of work, is to provide those things — the place, time, and people — to those who do not have them.” He echoed a similar sentiment when we spoke, his campaign now a reality, and well underway. “You gotta change the law,” he said. “That’s how you change the arc of our community.”

When one of the last doors we knocked on opened, a kitten darted out and Myrie put out his foot to gently block the animal’s bound down the stairs. As the woman brought the kitten in, he turned around grinned. Did you see that save? The woman poked her head back out with a slightly bothered air, but as he started his spiel, faint recognition dawned. “Oh, you’re running against…” she searched. Jesse Hamilton, Z offered. “Who’s part of that bad group…” The woman again let Myrie fill in her blank. The IDC, yes. “Oh yes,” she concluded, grabbing his outstretched flyer. “I’ll vote for you.” 

If only it were always that easy. 

But election day is months away, and he’s still gathering signatures to get his name on the ballot. Then there’s voter registration. Endorsements continue to roll in, including from the Working Families Party, Independent Neighborhood Democrats, and Lambda Independent Democrats, but Myrie’s still out and about, morning to night. 

 That evening, he stood on the steps of a building with no conceivable entry system — the last building of the night — and scrolled through a calendar on his iPhone. It wasn’t even 9, a mercifully early end to the night’s work, given the thunder that rumbled ominously overhead. “At the end of the day, I like to check and see what the first thing I have to do the next morning is,” he said. Trains. 7:30 am. 

“It’s day by day, you know. It’s a war of attrition kind of thing,” Myrie reflected with a smile when I asked how he keeps his energy up. “But that makes it exciting because then you look back and you’re like, ‘Oh wow. Over this time period, look at what we’ve been able to accomplish.’” 

For Myrie, there’s no time to consider defeat and little time to even consider his opponent Hamilton, who so far has done little to engage with the progressive upstart. There’s only time to lace up his sneakers, keep his eyes on September, and just keep running.

 

 

Our Conversation With Jacqueline Woodson

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Park Slope resident Jacqueline Woodson is staggering. In 2014, her childhood memoir-in-verse, Brown Girl Dreaming—which she wrote at the local Du Jour Bakery—won The National Book Award, as well as the Coretta Scott King Award (she has two), a Newberry Honor (she has four), the NAACP Image Award, and a Sibert Honor. A year later, the Poetry Foundation named her the Young People’s Poet Laureate. A year after that, her adult novel, Another Brooklyn, became a National Book Award finalist. And only months ago, Jacqueline was chosen as the new National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, a role she will hold for two years as she travels the country and discusses the importance of young people’s literature. These are only a few of the accolades she has earned over a career that has spanned nearly three decades. Although Jacqueline admits she was a “reluctant ambassador,” given what is happening in our country, “whether or not I’m ready, the world is ready for me. So, I need to show up.” Below, Jacqueline shares some thoughts on her new ambassadorial duties; the power of literature as it relates to hope, change and identity; her favorite Park Slope hangouts; and why parents should let their kids read picture books all the way through high school.

PS Reader: In your new role as the National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, you’re traveling around the country speaking to students in schools, libraries and underserved areas. What will you be discussing?

I’m hoping to be discussing the power of literature and the power of literature to change the narrative of lives and countries and places, and just how important it is for us to have bigger conversations, and how literature allows us to have those conversations. Until I meet the people I don’t know how the conversations are going to go, so I can’t say I’m going to talk about this one blanket thing. But I’m hoping to have decent, meaningful conversations about the power of literature to create hope in our lives, and also how that hope becomes part of the change.

And will you be approaching these students with a lesson plan, or will you leave it more open-ended?

Open-ended. I’m not trying to teach. I don’t think my role as ambassador is to teach. It’s a kind of gospel of literature and how important literature is in the narratives of our lives. How would you describe your platform, “READING = HOPE X CHANGE (What’s Your Equation)”?

In terms of what? In terms of what you are hoping to elicit from the students when you broach the subject. I know you want to discuss the power of literature.

I’m not only speaking to students. I’m going to prisons, I’m going to juvenile detention centers, I’m going into community centers, I’m speaking to adults, I’m speaking to young people. So it’s not just going into classrooms and speaking to students. Although there will be that. I’m going to conferences. And, basically, I think it’s simply that. When you read a book, you meet characters. You fall in love with those characters, or you don’t. But you exit a book differently than how you enter it. And that exchange, and that time of going from opening a book and having an experience, to closing it and having had that experience, you’re a different person. And that different person is able to have different conversations. Is able to talk about different themes and thoughts and characters and situations. Everything, from social situations to economic situations to talking about race and talking about sexuality and gender. All of these themes that get introduced in books allow you to have more hopeful conversations with a bigger community of people, because you have more information, and less fear, and that’s the hope. My hope is that these are the kinds of conversations we will have, and I think these are really important conversations at this moment in time. At all moments in time.

And what books will you be discussing? Do you know yet?

I don’t know, because I don’t know a lot of things. I don’t know what books we can get donated if they’re underserved communities. There are going to be different books that we use for young people than we use for grownups, maybe, or there’ll be more mother-daughter or adult-child reading groups. Or if they’re literacy programs, they’re going to be reading something different. But hopefully, there is a common theme that I can bring in there, and say, look, here’s this narrative, here’s Owl Moon or Show Way or whatever the book is, let’s read it together and then let’s talk about everything it represents, and what it means to you, and what you find in common, and what’s enlightened you, what you find enlightening about the narrative, and all of that. But again, it so much depends on the room. Some rooms I’m going to go into, the young people have been reading, right. They’ve been reading a common text already, so whatever the teachers choose as the text, that’s fine with me. I’ll read it before I get there so we’re all on the same page.

In Brown Girl Dreaming you mention that when you were younger you were sometimes admonished for reading too slowly or for reading books that were too “babyish.” On the website for the National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature, you say that “young people should not be judged by the level of their reading, but by the way a book makes them think and feel.” Did your experiences as a young reader inform that belief you hold today?

Oh, definitely. I think it’s not only my experience as a young reader but also what I’ve seen being an author for the past 30 years, and what I’ve seen happening in classrooms and institutions of learning in ways that haven’t changed from my own childhood. So, definitely.

And how do you think that can be corrected, today?

I don’t know. I don’t like to use the word ‘corrected,’ cause it assumes something being done wrong. I think we can think differently, and think about reading differently, and think about reading as an engagement and a social engagement and a means of having a conversation. The book is having a conversation with the reader, the reader is having a conversation with the book, and the reader is having a conversation with another reader or a teacher, and all of that is not something that needs to be graded or judged for how well or intellectually it’s done. But they should just be part of the continuum of the engagement.

I read somewhere as well that the graphic novelist Gene [Yuen Lang], who was the national ambassador before you, had to talk you into saying yes to this position. Why is that?

Yeah. I was reluctant. I was definitely a reluctant ambassador. I was concerned about how much traveling I would do. I was concerned about how far it would take me away from my writing and my family. It wasn’t the work that I wanted to do right now. And then I think about so many people who are asked to do the work they’re not ready to do, and the time is ready, whether or not they are. So I think in terms of looking at where our country is right now and what’s happening to young people, and what’s happening to people of color, and what’s happening to queer people, what’s happening to poor people, you know, whether or not I’m ready, the world is ready for me. So, I need to show up. When Brown Girl Dreaming had gotten The National Book Award I was traveling a lot, and I have a 15-year-old daughter and a 10-year-old son, and it was hard to be away from home, so I think that’s where most of the reluctance came in. I was like, ‘Oh, no, I don’t want to go out on the road, I don’t want to have conversations, I just want to stay home and write and be mom.’

Now that you have accepted the position, are you happy for having done so?

I am, I am. I think it’s worth it. I’ve figured out how to do it and write. It’s made me be very clear about what I can say ‘yes’ to and ‘no’ to, so I can make the time to do what I need to do and also be a good ambassador.

You were speaking about the point at which our country is at the moment. I was reading another interview you gave to NPR. In it, you say you have no tolerance for people who are not thinking deeply about things, or “no tolerance for people not being a part of the world and being in it and trying to change it.” My question is: What would you say to those who live in precisely that way—that is, people who do not advocate or agitate for change?

You know, I think I would ask them, ‘Why?’ I think that’s the biggest question, is ‘Why?’ What keeps you here in this moment as it is, and I’d be interested in hearing their answers. I think that’s what having a conversation means, is to ask the questions that are going to make people introspective. And I think some people are very comfortable to live in very small worlds and there is very little I can do to change that, but once I know what the answer to that ‘why’ is, then I can begin to have a conversation. But, I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to someone because I don’t know who they are, I don’t know why they make the choices they make.

When you go speak to these students and other people, will you try to draw a connection between social change and the ways in which literature can help bring that about?

I hope so. I hope so. I think that I have such a deep respect for young people. And I think they know that they are the future and I think young people are pretty unhappy with a lot of stuff that’s happening now and ready to change that. Grow up and change it in the way they can. I think it’s going to be interesting.

Did you attend The March [For Our Lives] this past weekend?

We were at the one in Vermont.

And what did you think when you were there?

I think it would have been nice to be in New York or D.C. where there were a lot, a lot of people, but it was very sweet. It’s just nice to know that in every state there are people speaking out against what’s going on right now.

Along similar lines, in an interview you gave to The Brown Bookshelf, again speaking about the injustices or the unkindness and the fear that is in the world, you said you can’t afford to be one of those people who ignore it, because that would mean not growing, and if you can’t grow, you can’t write. You said, “So some days I’m like this big bruise walking through the world. And it’s a bit awful, but it comes with what it means to be a writer.” Could you expand upon that thought? What, to you, does it mean to be a writer? In this day and age in particular, as well as at all times?

I think it means to be woke. And to be really in the world and to really see it, warts and all, and to really see its possibility. So I think it means walking through the world very pessimistically and optimistically at the same time. Which feels like a contradiction, but it’s true. Just to be able to see the hope in the world and then articulate what that hope could look like is really important. But, in order to get to that, you also have to see the way the world is. Things are not working for so many people and that’s painful.

I know it’s your job as a writer to articulate that hope, as you said, but do you ever find that difficult?

It’s always difficult. It’s always difficult. But, you know, something being difficult shouldn’t be the thing that stops somebody.

How do you push past the difficulty?

Cause I know the only way through it is through it. To just stay where I am means that nothing is going to change. I know there are days when writing is very cathartic for me, so it feels empowering. When things feel the hardest I know that I can sit down and imagine the change I want to see in the world.

This question might sound a little naïve, but I would love to hear the answer in your own words: What about the experience of seeing oneself represented in fiction is so powerful? How would you describe the feeling?

I think what it does is it legitimizes you, your experiences. Even though it’s fiction, it means that someone else has imagined and/or lived what you’ve lived. And that means that there are more people like you in the world. And that’s empowering because I think a lot of times, we question our own existences and our own legitimacy when we’re not represented on a bigger screen. And so to open up a book and find someone who looks like you or thinks like you or eats what you eat or prays the way you pray or has the same family makeup you do, it’s like, wait a second, I matter, and I’m in the world, and here I am, again and again and again. And I think if you’ve walked through the world always seeing mirrors of yourself in it, then it’s hard to imagine what it would be like not to. But for someone who’s never seen that mirror, it’s just huge.

That reminds me of the article you recently wrote for Vanity Fair when you spoke with [“Master of None” Emmy-winning actress] Lena Waithe. Could you talk about that? What was it like, to speak with her?

She’s great. She’s phenomenal. And she’s so smart and it’s so great to have a conversation with her and to realize all of these ways in which our lives overlap and how we both got to our calling, through television and through literature. But I just think she’s phenomenal.

I would love to know what you’re currently reading.

I just finished re-reading Jesmyn Ward’s Sing, Unburied, Sing, which I loved. I’m reading a book by Daniel José Older that’s not out yet, but it’s phenomenal. And it’s a middle-grade book, I’m reading it to blurb it. There’s a woman named Imani Perry who just wrote a book about Lorraine Hansberry. I’m in the middle of reading that, I’m reading a number of books at once. And I’m just so excited about this Lorraine Hansberry story, because I love A Raisin in the Sun and I just loved her so much as a person, even though I never knew her. And to be able to sit for hours with her life…And Wade in the Water, which is a collection of poems by Tracy K. Smith.

Do you set aside time to read every day?

I don’t, I figure out how to. I was doing a Scholastic interview and then reading a little bit before you called, because it ended early, and then I always read at night. And when I’m writing, I’ll try to stop writing for a while and read a little bit, just because it clears my mind. So if I’m writing something more literary, I’ll read more poetry, and that helps.

What can you tell us about your two new books that will be coming out? I believe there’s a picture book and a middle-grade book?

The picture book is called Harbor Me and it’s about six kids in a specialized classroom in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. And the picture book is called The Day You Begin and it’s about walking into a room and feeling like you’re the only one like yourself in that room, and then realizing it’s not true.

[As] a Park Slope resident, what do you love about the neighborhood?

I love that I can walk anywhere, I love that I can leave my house and go right and be at the park in two blocks, I love that. Or three blocks. I love that I can go left and be on 5th avenue in no time and go have lunch with friends or go grab a coffee. So I love that it’s a walking neighborhood. And I love my backyard, because I love gardening.

How would you say it compares with your experiences in Bushwick growing up?

It’s whiter. [Laughs] It is far, far, far—less diverse than my childhood neighborhood. I don’t know, it’s hard to compare. There are things I love about Park Slope and things I struggle with. Bushwick was much more alive. Strangers said ‘hi’ to each other. That doesn’t happen so much here. And there were lots of languages spoken, so you grew up speaking lots of languages. I grew up speaking Spanish and English. That doesn’t seem to happen so much here. Or, there’s not the intersection of people speaking across languages. And Park Slope is definitely a quieter neighborhood, but it has a lot more cars than my childhood neighborhood.

Do you have any favorite spots around here?

I like [Café] Martin’s, around the corner. And I used to go to Du Jour [Bakery] all the time. I wrote Brown Girl Dreaming at Du Jour. Sometimes we go to Blue Ribbon for dinner when we don’t feel like cooking, which is a spot my son loves. And I love the library here. Cause I can walk to it. And where else do I hang? I love my stoop. Which I hang a lot on.

Is there anything else you would like our readers of The Park Slope Reader to know?

I think it’s really important that parents know that they should let their kids read picture books all the way through high school. I think a lot of times, people think that, ‘oh, my kid has moved beyond picture books,’ but it’s a way to learn about poetry. All of my picture books are written in a poetic form. It’s a way to learn how to write a novel. Cause in 32 pages, you get a beginning, middle and end. You learn about character. There’s all this stuff that they might miss learning about if they skipped that stage of picture books. And I always get a little sad when I see people pushing their kids toward chapter books and not letting them have the experience of picture books. So, let them have that. The library has great picture books and reading picture books does not mean they’re reading at what people call a quote-unquote ‘lower grade level.’ They’re just reading as writers, and respect that.

Are there any picture books that you would recommend?

I love Owl Moon by Jane Yolen. I love When I Was Young in The Mountains, by Cynthia Rylant. And then she has another one called The Relatives Came. And she’s just such a thoughtful writer. And what other picture books? I love anything by Mo Willems, an ex-Park Sloper. And anything by Javaka Steptoe. So, my list could go on.

PLEASURE SAGE

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A Conversation with Sid Azmi, a resident of Park Slope, and the owner of please, an educated Pleasure Shop.

It’s an Fall afternoon in Park Slope and pleasure boutique Please sits perched on the corner in a swirl of sunny windows, glass tables, and exposed brick. A song spills out of the speakers as a man wanders in and owner Sid Azmi leaps up to assist him. He needs something specific for his girlfriend; they don’t carry it, but could she suggest something similar? He asks how much, already keen to purchase it, but she advises him to talk to his partner again first. As he steps back out onto the street, she waves goodbye and wishes him the best. To Azmi, people are more important than the sale. The items she sells just happen to include vibrators.

Azmi is open with her gestures and smiles, as well as her story. “I grew up in Singapore and moved here when I was 19. I was basically running away from home,” said Azmi. After moving to the United States to attend Suffolk University in Boston, she became a radiation therapist and worked intimately with cancer patients. “I worked with a lot of patients who were diagnosed with urological-based cancers like prostate cancer,” Azmi reflected. She noticed that even while people were surviving their cancer, the quality of their sex lives were rarely discussed. Her patients grappled with vulnerable issues as certain sexual experiences dramatically changed or vanished completely. And while they faced these problems, no platform existed on which to discuss it. “The medical world is so straight-laced,” said Azmi. “Anything that was sexual was considered taboo.” As a chief therapist, Azmi found herself wanting to open a small business and provide a comfortable space for people to discuss and improve their sex lives without limitations. “The changing of how people think about sex has always been in my life as a conversation piece,” said Azmi. “So how do we put that into a business form? We put it into a store that symbolizes that. The store is not just a financial endeavor, it’s more of a social mission that we carry.” For many, the idea of shopping for a pleasure item is unthinkable. Some still have trouble looking their local bodega owner in the eye when buying condoms, let alone purchasing a sex toy. Azmi wanted to create a space that was “transparent, open, and welcoming” while also hoping to reframe the way people think about stores like hers. For those who were confused or uneasy about broaching the topic of sexual pleasure, Azmi found that most were often scared of what they didn’t fully understand. As she educated others, she believed the best way of achieving a productive discussion was meeting them halfway with patience and humor. “Sex is one of our main driving forces, and we don’t talk about it,” asserted Azmi. She hoped to embolden people in her community to not only re-acquaint themselves with what brings them pleasure, but ask for it without guilt or fear of stigma. Azmi believes that there’s more to sex than just the act itself. “Sex enables us to be assertive and confident. It contributes to wellness, exercise, and mental stimulation. When you are happy internally, that joy perpetuates outward.” Azmi went on to explain her pride in owning a business in Park Slope and admitted that while small businesses generate less revenue financially and meet greater barriers, she enjoys the experience of serving her neighbors. “We are heavily dependant on our community,” Azmi stressed. “In the long run, learning to have a relationship with your community is a very important aspect of any business. People don’t buy things just because they really want them; they buy things also because they like you. I think the second part is what keeps a business open longer.” And even with simple likability proving hugely beneficial in attracting patrons, Azmi hopes that it goes deeper than that. “I think that when people can identify with something – whether it’s the products, or the mission, or the people working in there – they’re more proud to be in those communities,” Azmi beamed. “I’m proud to be in this community because my store exists. Even if it wasn’t my store, it would make me think, ‘Oh, my neighborhood is cool!’”

http://www.pleasenewyork.com

DETERMINATION — Planned Parenthood of New York City

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A Conversation with Carrie Mumah, a resident of Park Slope, and the Director of Digital and Media Relations at Planned Parenthood of New York City.

While Planned Parenthood has increasingly been called to stand at the center of contemporary political debates over the legislation of reproductive health care in recent years, the organization itself has been around for more than a century. It was founded in Brooklyn on October 16th, 1916, by New York native and early feminist Margaret Sanger. 100 years later, Planned Parenthood is still servicing countless individuals and providing reproductive health care not only across the nation, but around the globe as well.

Mumah believes that the long lasting nature of the organization is a testament to the value it holds in numerous communities. “Our mission is to provide information and health care to all who need it, and to promote public policies that make those services available to all,” said Mumah. “For 100 years, we have been a resource for all New Yorkers and have empowered individuals to make independent, informed decisions about their sexual and reproductive lives.”

For Mumah, her relationship with the company began two years ago, when she moved from Washington D.C. to New York City. She soon started working at the Planned Parenthood at NYC, calling the experience “life-changing.” In her two and a half years with the organization, Mumah has learned boundless information from everyone she has interacted with, whether they be “doctors, social workers, financial counselors, sex educators, activists, [or] patients.”

One of the most important concepts Mumah has learned during her time at Planned Parenthood is how indispensible health care really is. “Reproductive health care access is so critical to people’s overall wellbeing,” said Mumah. “Including everything from their physical health, to their mental health, to their economic security and being able to live the lives they want to live.”

While Planned Parenthood is often associated with women in conversations pertaining to health care access, Mumah asserted that they are truly available to everyone. There is a wealth of options and services open to anyone who needs them, extending beyond birth control measures and including HIV and STD testing and treatment. “In NYC, we also recently started offering PrEP, a daily pill to help reduce the risk of HIV, as well as transgender hormone therapy and vasectomy,” stated Mumah. “Planned Parenthood is not just about women’s health—we are here as a resource for all people, regardless of their gender identity or sexual orientation.”

Planned Parenthood is able to look beyond the confines of gender norms because they believe all patients are worthy of the same care. Mumah remarked that is not a matter of defining people but rather about ensuring that “all people can lead healthy lives, we also need to make sure that the full range of reproductive and sexual health care is accessible to everyone, regardless of immigration status or ability to pay.”

When it comes to abortion and contraception, thorny topics that often prove difficult to navigate, Planned Parenthood’s main goal is to provide as much information as they have at their disposal and to protect their patients’ reproductive rights. Over time, a misconception has emerged that women seeking abortions are villainous or careless. This concept strips women of their humanity while coloring a delicate decision as one of calculated violence, and Mumah wants to help dispel this myth.

“There is no single type of person who gets an abortion,” Mumah asserted. “The people who come to us include people of all backgrounds, ethnicities, gender identities, and income levels. Some of these people may already have children, and others may not. The important part to know is that these are people who are fully aware of their options and who are making the best decision for them and their families. All people should have the right to decide when and if to have children, and access to safe and legal abortion is a critical part of reproductive freedom.”

Planned Parenthood has long been aware of their role in the national conversation surrounding women’s rights and reproductive health care, but the subject has recently endured more scrutiny and contention due to the transition of political administrations. Mumah assured that regardless of who may reside in the White House, their mission of helping everyone in need never changes. She stressed that “even as we face attacks, we will continue to fight for the communities we serve.”

Mumah ultimately summed up the history and accomplishments of Planned Parenthood in one word: determination. It’s this same sentiment that has propelled the company forward in the last century and will keep it moving on into the next. Mumah acknowledged this notion with pride, stating, “We’re proud to be here for New Yorkers as a trusted provider and anticipate being here for another 100 years.”

 

How to help Planned Parenthood

• Educate yourself on reproductive health issues

• Spread awareness

• Donate

• Sign up for email alerts

• Raise money locally by hosting creative benefits

• Speak out against hatred, bigotry, and misogyny

• Go to http://www.ppnycaction.org/takeaction to learn more

A Year of Yes at the Brooklyn Museum

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A Conversation with Brooklyn Museum Curator Catherine Morris

For the ten-year anniversary of the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art, Brooklyn Museum curator Catherine Morris planned a series of exhibitions titled A Year of Yes: Reimagining Feminism, which would begin in October 2016 and end in early 2018. The various exhibits would examine artwork, social movements, and historical periods with a keen feminist eye. When reflecting on the past decade and the ways in which society and media had gradually come to accept feminist methodology more and more, Morris was struck by a thought: how long does a place like the Sackler center need to exist? Is there a day when we will no longer need a center devoted to preserving and educating the public on feminist art?

She did not have to wait long for an answer. In early November, Marilyn Minter’s: Pretty/Dirty exhibit was underway, and Morris and her fellow coordinators looked on with pride. They expected Marilyn Minter’s examination of female body image in America to coincide with a Hillary Clinton presidency; a retrospective on the commercialization and objectification of the female form timely paired with a much-anticipated first female presidency. The coincidental juxtaposition of the two would have in and of itself been a lesson, a lesson that boldly said, “Look how far we’ve come!” Instead, when Election Day arrived the lesson became, “There is still so much left to do.”

 

Marilyn Minter’s Blue Poles from Marilyn Minter: Pretty/Dirty.

 

Morris no longer feels like she needs to question the existence of the Sackler Center; she sees Donald Trump’s presidency as a confirmation of its necessity. “I have to say, since November 8, I don’t want to have that conversation anymore,” said Morris. “That day answered that question for me, at least right now, and for the next four years.”

Morris went on to discuss how the election results shifted the intention and reception of A Year of Yes’s programming. Minter’s show took on an entirely new energy, and suddenly became one that “needed to protest, to talk, to strategize.” Alternatively, the concepts and themes conveyed in another show, We Wanted a Revolution: Black Radical Women 1965-85, felt eerily prescient. It is difficult to ignore how, overwhelmingly, white women voted for Trump while a majority of black women voted for Clinton, statistics which reveal in Morris’ mind, “that kind of contested relationship between women who on so many agenda levels want to be allies” but find themselves separated “in a politically divided and racially fraught moment.”

 

Faith Ringgold’s Early Works #25: Self-Portrait, 1965 from We Wanted a Revolution: Black Radical Women 1965-85.

 

We Wanted a Revolution, which opens April 21, details how the feminist movement emerged in African-American communities in the sixties and examines what Morris openly identified as an “uncomfortable relationship between women of color who did not necessarily always feel welcome, understood, or even heard, within the context of second-wave feminism which was largely white, middle-class, post-college degree-[holding] women.” Morris noted that it is worth looking at both feminist history and its present-day practice with a critical eye, cracking it open to point out the flaws that lie within. Even Minter often faced criticism from fellow women for her artwork, despite being an outspoken and self-identifying feminist herself. “Feminism is not a monolithic thing,” insisted Morris. “It is in fact, intersectional in and of itself, and is only enriched by having these complicated discussions.”

Even the word feminism itself carries a weighted and complex history. While men and women alike once balked at the word, which evinced mental images of enraged women brandishing burning bras, it has come a long way in the national lexicon. It still faces criticism, but it also holds a new status in the media, with pop culture icons like Beyonce and Taylor Swift declaring themselves feminist as mass crowds of impressionable girls look on in admiration. Morris said in her lifetime, “the ebb and flowing of the term is enormous” and it has gotten to a point where “in the digital era, its value changes from week to week.”

For her, this is evidence of the word’s importance, even if some view it as radical or demeaning towards men. “We also are acknowledging the fact that even if the term is problematic, the impulse towards gender equity or parity is certainly a human rights issue that I think you’d be very hard pressed to find anybody say they didn’t agree with,” reasoned Morris. “Different people just have different ways of defining it, contextualizing it, being comfortable with it.”

This range in interpretation and definition extends to the series of exhibits themselves. Despite varying subject matter, the exhibitions are all tied together by the unique tools feminism has provided historians; one of the most important of these tools being historical revisionism, which allows canonical histories to be rewritten. Consider Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party (1974-79), a commemorative art piece depicting a banquet with a place setting reserved for thirty nine women of historical importance. Morris explained that “even in the earliest moments of second wave feminism, artists, curators, and historians were really wanting to change history; to talk about the people who were overlooked and put them back into it.”

 

Piece by Amarna King from A Woman’s Afterlife: Gender Transformation in Ancient Egypt.

 

Historical revisionism also helps to understand the past in new ways. For instance, A Woman’s Afterlife: Gender Transformation in Ancient Egypt may look back on a time period when feminism did not yet exist, but it proves that exploration of a subject through a particular lens can unearth new discoveries. Morris said that with more women entering the field of Egyptology, unique conclusions are being drawn by archaeologists who are able to “look at things differently and ask certain questions, and as a result, get different answers.”

Morris hopes that those who come to the Brooklyn Museum to experience any of A Year of Yes’ many exhibits leave with a new understanding of the world around them and recognize the value of making room for other people’s stories. The driving force of the exhibition series is to be a space of inclusion and education. “I think that as I have said many, many, times I am really proud to be the curator of the Center of Feminist Art and not the Center of Women’s Art,” said Morris. “I think feminism applies to everybody.”

 

Upcoming and ongoing exhibitions:

Infinite Blue (Nov. 25, 2016 – Nov. 5, 2017)

A Woman’s Afterlife: Gender Transformation in Ancient Egypt (Dec. 15, 2016 – ongoing)

Georgia O’Keefe: Living Modern (March 3, 2017 – July 23, 2017)

Utopia Station (March 2017 – ongoing)

We Wanted a Revolution: Black Radical Women, 1965-85 (April 21, 2017 – Sept. 17, 2017)

The Roots of “The Dinner Party” (Oct. 20, 2017 – early 2018)

A Feminist Timeline (Oct. 20, 2017 – early 2018)

 

https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/year_of_yes_reimagining_feminism