tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40923173269588015002024-03-13T11:57:16.068-07:00Urban Village MidwifeBuilding sustainable communities, perinatal health equity, and birth innovation that fuels human potentialHakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-88896646568459841892017-12-28T08:48:00.001-08:002017-12-28T08:48:52.841-08:00Bring me that horizonAs 2017 comes to a close, I'd like to set my intentions for the coming year. 2017 has been an eventful and very positive and productive year. 2018 will be even more so. Here is what I have planned for myself, and Uzazi Village.<br />
Professional Goals<br />
1) I have been on hiatus from my midwifery preceptorship this semester. Things start back into full swing in January. My plan is to finish all my births in 2018 and prepare to sit for the NARM exam by this time next year. A big thank you to my preceptor who has painstakingly brought me through this journey and will see me to the end.<br />
2) I will remain half time in my doctorate program. I now have a 'dissertation doula' who has been working with me to refine my research project which will center around the Sister Doula program. My research project was funded and is in full swing and may finish up by April or May.<br />
3) The Ida Mae Clinic has been designed and is ready for its build out. We are awaiting board approval of the plans and then the builders can start. The clinic will be in the back of our current building in an empty warehouse type space. I cannot express the excitement I feel at seeing the clinic come to pass.<br />
4) My group prenatal care model is almost ready to unveil. The Village Circle Model is the model of care that will be practiced in the Ida Mae Clinic. My model was created by Black folks, for Black folks and is built on principles of shared governance, client autonomy and community self-determination. I'm excited that after years of conceptualizing, planning, and creative effort my model has taken shape.<br />
5) I have a goal to publish my book in 2018 and a 'book doula' coming to help me put things in order. I have a publisher, and just need to put it all together to create something that will be a useful guide for Black families trying to get decent care out of the current system or seek out or create new systems.<br />
6) Travel will be very limited in 2018. I will need to stick close to home to finish my births and finally become a midwife. Instead, consider this an open invitation to come see me and Uzazi Village in 2018. We love to entertain visitors and we will happily show off our space and show you how we do what we do. Make plans to come to Kansas City in the coming year.<br />
7) Scouting out properties for the next phase of our growth; the midwifery school and birth center.<br />
Personal Goals<br />
8) I had weight loss surgery last May and to date have lost 60 lbs. I hope to continue on this trajectory and complete my weight loss goals.<br />
9) I plan to clear some psychological and physical space by completing a divorce process this year.<br />
10) Plan to continue therapy- its going great and I love the process.<br />
11) Working on a plan toward home ownership.<br />
12) Making my home a center of community life and activity and hospitality.<br />
That's what's going on in my life. Overall life is good and I'm pretty much up for whatever comes my way. In the words, of Captain Jack Sparrow, "Bring me that horizon."Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-66322226000097992332017-10-05T15:48:00.001-07:002017-10-05T15:48:52.192-07:00Lessons from the Road
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It has been a few weeks since
the Black Infant Mortality Awareness Roadtrip and I promised to write about
it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>These are my ‘lessons from the
road’.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>For those who don’t know, I took
10 days and traveled to five states in the South to interview Black Birth
Workers about what they do, how they do it, and what obstacles they face when
doing it, in relation to addressing Black infant mortality.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I interviewed midwives, doulas, lactation
consultants, and breastfeeding educators.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>The Black women I interviewed were well credentialed or had none at
all.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They were low income, and middle
class. They were high school graduates, and college graduates, They were
mothers themselves or not yet mothers. They ran for profits and not for
profits.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What they had in common was
their commitment to address health disparities in maternity care through their
own particular area of expertise.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I will
not discuss the interviews themselves or the women in them here, that is for
another time and purpose.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What this
essay concerns itself with is my lessons learned from this awesome
experience.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Thank you to Elephant
Circle, Praeclarus Press, Center for Social Inclusion and Uzazi Village for
financing this trip.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was a blessing
to meet every person we spoke with and their stories carry much weight and
value to me.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Special thanks to my
companion on the trip, Jolina Simpson, who was the perfect Thelma to my
Louise.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Jolina and I flew into Houston
(just about a week ahead of the devastating hurricane that flooded it), and
from there went to New Orleans, LA, Montgomery AL, Tupelo MS, and finally
Memphis TN.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We met the most amazing
women, women who are really doing the work.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Women who are sold out to this cause and have dedicated their lives and
livelihood to it. We sat down in each place with each woman in her place of
business or in a fastfood restaurant with free wifi, hotel lobbys or in her
home, but no matter where we met, each woman was eager to share her story.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This is what I learned.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Lesson 1</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">We must unlearn in order to
relearn. There is so much garbage that African-Americans have been fed about
themselves and their culture in this country. We must recognize the lies,
refuse to listen to them and begin to discover the truth about who we are, not
who this country says we are.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must return
to our elemental roots. The scapegoating and gaslighting that this country and
dominant culture people continuously feed us a steady diet of is killing us. We
can’t afford to believe the lies any longer. We must claim our rightful nature,
and the inheritance and ancestral legacy of our true culture. We must stop
believing the lies told about us, fed in abundance to everyone who lives in
this country that we are weak, deficient, inadequate, and small. These are all
lies, repeated over and over and over until we think they are truths. They are
not.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must throw off these lies, the
greatest of which is that we need them. America is like an abusive lover, that
tells us we are nothing without them, that no one else would have us, that we
are too stupid to make it on our own. Those are all lies. We must reconnect
with our true heritage, the ones stolen and buried.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must unearth them, decipher them, and put
them on again. That is our salvation, not anything that dominant culture has to
offer.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Lesson 2</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Put self first. As
African-American women we are subject to the notion that everyone comes before
us. Everyone’s else’s needs must be met before our own.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This too is a lie. We cannot give from an
empty cup.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>As I write this, I am here,
in central Missouri, at an event I am hosting for Black Birth Workers, called,
The Gathering.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We are taking a week, to
walk in nature, to eat nutritious food, to hear the sound of our own voices.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must make this a daily discipline.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Putting our needs first isn’t selfish
(another lie), it is essential. Do that which fills your own soul, then you
will be able to do for others what needs to be done. Put money into your
savings account FIRST, not if anything is left over.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Do your yoga or take your walk, FIRST, not if
you happen to have time in your day left over.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Have that cup of coffee or tea that you love FIRST, not after the
children have been tended and are out the door.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Write in that journal, knit that sweater, sew on that quilt, meditate in
the meadow FIRST, don’t save your bliss or whatever fills you, until after
everyone else is served and you have nothing left to give yourself. Serve
yourself first. Fill your own cup first. This is difficult to do as we have
always been told it is wrong (a lie). It is essential.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We give too much.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We do too much.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We cannot continue at this pace and be
effective for long.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We will burn
ourselves out.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We will use ourselves up.
We will lose what is most important- our very own self. Precious women, tend to
yourself, your body, your mind, your soul and your spirit. You are queens, and
queens are not served last, they are served first.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Lesson 3</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">We take on too much. We think
we can do it all. We cannot- or at least not well. As Black women we are
continuously adding to our plates. We can’t keep doing that and be effective.
We have to choose, choose wisely but choose. We cannot do it all.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>That too is a lie. What I observed during my
travels was Black women being effective but also being overloaded. Overloading
of your plate causes burnout.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Put some
back. Let others shoulder their portion. Don’t take it all on. Consider
carefully what is yours to do and let others do the rest. Learn to say no, and
mean it. Learn to delegate and do it. Please stop this destructive habit. The
world won’t come to an end if you don’t do it.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Someone else will step forward to shoulder the burden, and if they
don’t, it will still be okay.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Make your
lives manageable and livable.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>You’ll
live longer and happier lives if you do. Remember you deserve some happiness,
it’s not just about the work you do or what you accomplish in the world. Dump
everything that leeches your energy and gives nothing back.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Doesn’t matter if it’s a spouse or a business
partner or a subordinate. Get rid of them and enjoy some psychic and soul bound
peace. Do the work that is yours to do and allow others to do theirs.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Lesson 4</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Black women reap little but
sow much.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If you want to get a lot done
with little resources, ask a Black woman to do it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We are the mothers of invention. Everywhere I
went, this is what I saw. If we were well resourced, I’m convinced we could fix
the world.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We do so much with so little.
I fear it is because we are overlooked and ignored that we have learned this
skill. We are not thought to dream big dreams- that is for others.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>So we must piece our dreams together from the
scraps others leave behind. It turns out, our patchwork quilts made from
other’s leftovers are the most beautiful of all. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I don’t understand the mystery of this. I
chalk it up to God’s grace. Those who grandstand get the glory, but those who
do the work, get the results. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Lesson 5</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Money most often flows around
us but rarely to us. We are being consumed. That consumption often comes in the
form of being used for someone else’s purposes. That someone else is always
getting paid. We get a pat on the head, a thank you, or a few token
‘gifts’.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must recognize when we are
being used for other’s gain and say no. We must demand that the money flow
directly to us and our communities.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They
are fat ticks that feed off our community’s life blood. We must remove these
blood suckers and demand the right to assess, diagnose, and implement our own
solutions in our own communities.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We are
not organisms for them to study under a microscope.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We are living, thriving, vibrant communities
and no one, NO ONE, is more suited to the work of serving and solutioning our
communities than we ourselves. We must start our own IRBs, do our own research,
pitch our own RFPs, start our own foundations, find our own internal
philanthropists or grow them. We can self-actualize our communities instead of
being food for others. First we say no to crumbs and hand outs, and demand a
place at the table where decisions are being made, OR better yet, make our own
damn table. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Lesson 6</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">White opposition is real, and
most often comes in subtle forms from those who call themselves our
allies.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Be very careful with whom you
align yourselves, your work, your mission. If they are not willing to be your subordinate,
it can only mean they see themselves as your superior. Stay far away from these
people. It doesn’t matter that they have better credentials (that’s only a
confirmation that they have greater access and resources). Only you can be the
expert on your community.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It doesn’t
matter how long they’ve worked with ‘this population’. This isn’t a
‘population’ to you.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It’s your
community- and as a card carrying member, your knowledge as a member will
ALWAYS trump their knowledge as an outside observer. Yes, they come with resources
that you may need.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Consider the cost.
Whatever you do, don’t let them hold the purse strings to your efforts.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He who holds the gold, holds the power. Don’t
give others ultimate power over the work you do by being able to shut it down.
Make do with a little on your own (see lesson 4) rather than a lot that is
controlled by someone who has veto power to overrule your decisions.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It won’t be too long before what you want to
do is a) too extreme b) too pricey c) too outside the box d) too ethnic or cultural
e) too uncomfortable. Then they will put the cabash on your work and you won’t
see it coming. I’m not saying all white people are not trustworthy, I’m saying
you must be very careful with whom you align yourself, Black or white. (Some of
the greatest and most damaging opposition I’ve faced is from my own, mostly
African-American board). However overt white opposition was a reoccurring theme
during my trip. They often sent Black faces to do the dirty work. Just because
someone calls themselves an ally does not mean that they are one.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I too often saw so-called allies and ally
organizations oppose Black leadership, Black collective action, and impede
Black progress.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Actions still speak
louder than words. Take the time to vet people and see what they are really
about, not just what they say they are about. When people tell you who they
are, believe them.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Conclusions</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">What are my
conclusions from the observed lessons of this trip? Health disparities aren’t
an accident.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>They are a reflection of
American’s disdain for African-Americans.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>They are rooted in historic oppression and colonialism and manifest
today in everything from planned gentrification, to continued redlining, to
abandonment of communities in crisis. So what is the solution to health disparities
if the country gains from our collective losses? We must do it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must be our own solution.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We must start our own, and do it ourselves.
Start from scratch.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Start from nothing
if you must, but start.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Arthur Ashe said
it best: start where you are, use what you have, do what you can. Finally, we
must restore the village way of life.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We
must return to collective action, collective caring, and collective
living.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What we cannot do alone, we can
do together. We can make our lives better, improve our health and wellbeing; physical,
mental, and spiritual.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This we must do
for ourselves</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-22250047948399081892017-08-12T17:02:00.000-07:002017-08-13T09:32:57.584-07:00Your Equity Committee Ain't ShitI've had two events occur this week that compelled me to write this blog post. A phone call and a radio interview. First some background. I was invited to speak as an expert on a local radio show about maternal mortality. Here is a link to said interview: <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://kcur.org/post/maternal-death-rate&source=gmail&ust=1502576381573000&usg=AFQjCNFpGP-wxHd7NlRR8Rrpn7GrIT4O_Q" href="http://kcur.org/post/maternal-death-rate" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc;"> http://kcur.org/post/maternal-<wbr></wbr>death-rate</span></a> Fine. There were three of us. One was a reporter who had written nationally published articles on the topic. Her name is Nina Martin and I thought her contributions to the conversation were stellar. The other guest was a local physician. Like many of her ilk, she seemed clueless about the realities of daily life of the women she 'serves'. She actually mentions 12 week maternity leaves! Maybe that's what she gets but not the women I serve at Uzazi Village. If they get 2 weeks off (even after a cesarean) they can consider themselves lucky. So that was the interview. I only spoke the last 20 minutes, which wasn't near enough time to make my points, but I did my best. Next, the phone call.<br />
I received a call from someone who was a board member for a national professional organization. I represent many professions and nearly all of them have a professional organization. While I have vowed, on this very blog, not to sit on any more professional national boards, I will take calls from them. This call came from a board member who had read some of my work and basically asked me to speak to her sister board members. Now it just so happens, that this board commissioned a report in 2014 to study how they were doing on equity and diversity issues. They were doing terribly. The report was scathing and embarrassing to the organization. So what did the organization do? They buried it. I asked the caller to give an account of which recommendations were followed so far. Of course she could not. I told her, if they didn't listen to their own report- which they had commissioned- then why would they listen to me? <br />
Okay, that was the preamble. Here is the message to all White led professional organizations out there: (bold letters because I'm yelling at the top of my lungs)<br />
STOP FORMING YOUR SHITTY LITTLE COMMITTEES. STOP MAKING EQUITY AND DIVERSITY PANELS. STOP FORMING TASKFORCES. STOP COMMISSIONING REPORTS. NONE OF THAT IS THE WORK- THOSE ARE ALL WAYS TO LOOK LIKE YOU ARE DOING THE WORK WHEN YOU AREN'T DOING JACK SHIT. WORSE- ITS A WAY TO MAKE THE PEOPLE OF COLOR IN YOUR ORGANIZATIONS DO THE WORK YOU SHOULD BE DOING AND WHEN THEY AREN'T SUCCESSFUL, YOU CAN SAY ITS THEIR FAULT. THESE EQUITY COMMITTEES ARE JUST ANOTHER EXPRESSION OF WHITE SUPREMACY. STOP THIS SHIT NOW AND START TO MAKE SOME ACTUAL CHANGE IN YOUR ORGANIZATIONS.<br />
The caller asked me what I would do if I could make change happen- make the boards more diverse? I said, fuck no, I'd make them ALL diverse. I'd fire everyone white and replace them with a person of color. That would start some culture change. One token black or brown wont' do anything but keep white people in their comfort zone while making them think they have done something noteworthy. THAT SHIT AIN'T NOTEWORTHY. These fucking committees don't change organizational culture- they keep organizational change from happening by sealing up all the change makers in a bureaucratic little bundle that has little clout and even less power. Diversity is a smokescreen that in and of itself insures nothing. Equity committees are some serious bullshit. When organizations are serious about change- we'll all know it, because white people will be shitting their pants from the discomfort. Until that happens, its business as usual. If you think this essay does not pertain to you- rest assured, it does. There is not one organization that I am aware of that I don't find wanting. None of you is actually doing the work. Some of you talk a good game, but your shit still stinks. Don't complain to me that you are TRYING. Well my people are TRYING not to fucking die. Black women die in childbirth in these shitty hospitals, Black babies die from preventable causes, and Black men die like dogs in the streets or rot in the white man's prisons. This whole fucking country isn't TRYING hard enough. These organizations could change, but they don't actually want to. Heaven forbid that these good ol' (white) girls clubs give up any fucking power. Therefore, here's what needs to happen. Black and Brown people, start your own organizations. Leave en masse (like what happened at MANA) and let them work on equity without any Black or Brown people to hold their hands and reassure them that their token efforts are good enough. That's what I'm doing. Rather than squander one more moment of my precious and valuable time on the local breastfeeding committee that never listens to a damn thing I say, I'm starting the MOKAN Black Breastfeeding Collaborative here in my city. Instead of Black infant mortality being used to legitimize funding streams that never quite make it to our community, we will make it a true priority and actually promote and protect breastfeeding in our Black and Brown communities. Instead of pimping Black death for organizational profit, we will work within our own communities to create solutions that improve the lives of families that live among us. That's what I'm gonna do. Join me, or get the fuck out of my way.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-61847390849185772472017-05-28T11:25:00.002-07:002017-05-28T11:25:51.356-07:00Stories Wrung from BoneThere is an ever growing need for sacred Black space. I feel it more and more. More of my precious brothers and sisters are seeking a space where they can breathe a collective sigh of relief, if only for a short while. There has gone up a call for a community retreat. I agree that this is something that needs to happen all over the US. Those of us in the daily trenches need time set apart, on the land, in the spirit, singing songs, beating drums, telling our stories, nourishing our bodies and our souls. I didn't know how badly I needed it, until a dear Sister posted this" <br />
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<span class="_5z6m"><span class="_4a6n" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2000em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cm"><span class="_5z6m"><span class="_4a6n" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2000em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span class="_5z6m"><span class="_4a6n" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2000em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">I seriously need an all black retreat! </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/wilderness?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span style="color: red;">#</span></span><span class="_58cm"><span style="color: red;">wilderness</span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"> </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/noelectricity?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span style="color: red;">#</span></span><span class="_58cm"><span style="color: red;">noelectricity</span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"> </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/africansonly?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span style="color: red;">#</span></span><span class="_58cm"><span style="color: red;">Africansonly</span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"> </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/ancestorworship?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span style="color: red;">#</span></span><span class="_58cm"><span style="color: red;">ancestorworship</span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"> </span><a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/feedmysoul?source=feed_text"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span style="color: red;">#</span></span><span class="_58cm"><span style="color: red;">feedmysoul</span></span></span></a><span style="color: red;"> </span><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span style="color: red;">#</span></span><span class="_58cm"><span style="color: red;">ancestorscalling</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="_5z6m"><span class="_4a6n" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2000em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cm"><span class="_5z6m"><span class="_4a6n" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2000em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;"><span class="_5afx"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz"><span class="_5z6m"><span class="_4a6n" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2000em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;"><span class="_5afx"><span class="_58cm"><strike></strike></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>When I read this I thought immediately of the passage from the book, "Beloved". I thought of the gathering in the field on a Saturday afternoon of the entire Black community. In lieu of worship to a cruel white god, they were led in a worship of their own Black selves. Baby Suggs leads them in what is the purest expression of love: "Here, . . . in this place, we flesh; Flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it, love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. . . . Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them, touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face, ‘cause they don’t love that either. You got to love it, You! And no, they ain’t in love with your mouth. . . . You got to love it. This is flesh that I’m talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance, backs that need support; shoulders that need strong arms. . . . More than eyes and feet. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear em now, love your heart. For this is the prize" I thought of that worship in the clearing. The worship of an outcast people. That's how I imagined the OP's request being manifest. That in that holy clearing, the modern day descendants of the original worshippers gather, to find respite from a world that does not love them, by profoundly loving one another and themselves. I love her admonishment to "love it, love it hard" We must love hard. We must move our feet hard. Raise our voices in song hard. We must beat our drums hard. We must love ourselves hard, love our families hard, maintain our communities hard. We must educate our children our hard, grow our own food hard, birth our babies hard, invest and divest hard. We must teach our own hard, grow our own hard, pool our resources hard, own the land hard, build on that land hard, bear fruit on the land hard. Our inheritance from the world is inequity and despair, but we can change that. We can claim our rightful inheritance. We are our own best thing. That is the lesson. It is just not the OP who is tired and in need of respite. All my people are tired and in need in respite. I can stand in the field and bid them come, and love their beautiful selves. I see now, I was born to this. I will take up the work of my mother before me and her mother before her. I will call forth the ancestral call to worship, the call to prayer. The call to work hard, and play hard and rest hard. The call to love hard the Black bodies that move through this world, buffeted on every side. We will build a fire under the full moon as our ancestors did. Men, women, children, Black bodies connected to the earth. We will dance the dances that emerge from our bodies, sing the songs that emerge from our souls, we are the descendants of the stolen. Our bloodlines are severed from our original mother, but our bones remember. Our stories are hidden away for safekeeping in our DNA. Only in sacred Black space, will they be coaxed to the surface. </div>
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Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-45470926078636304112017-03-19T13:23:00.000-07:002017-03-19T13:25:53.414-07:00Lessons LearnedGreetings Readers, I've been too long absent from this blog. Rest assured that things are progressing as planned. I've entered my third and final year of my midwifery apprenticeship. I am learning so much about life, relationship, and healthcare. It has been an amazing journey with an amazing preceptor. My preceptor has one other student, who is just about finished. Our little threesome has become a sisterhood. We are about to add another to our number- another Black woman who is an Uzazi Village Sister Doula. In fact we have two women from Uzazi Village who have just applied to an online midwifery program. I wrote letters of recommendation for both of them. I am so excited to see this progression toward growing our own midwives, finally! Our core group of doulas and other birth workers grows as well. Between the Community Health Worker course, and the Basic Perinatal Health Course, and the Perinatal Doula Course, we are seeing amazing growth in folks who want to do birth work in our community. It has been an amazing privilege to galvanize and prepare these amazing individuals who value what Uzazi Village has to offer. We now have a groundswell of birth workers to restart our Birth Workers of Color group. We have aspiring doulas, lactation consultants, midwives, and physicians and nurses. It has been quite amazing. We can now offer more services and support to these folks because we are moving to a bigger space!!! Our new space is just down the street a few blocks. I feel so blessed when I think of the new space. We will move in May- the landlord is completing a buildout. Our capacity will increase by so much with the new space- the first floor will hold a common area for classes and receptions, There will be a lactation/examination room, a fixed area for Uzazi Closet, a demonstration kitchen, and out back, a community garden. Upstairs will be devoted to the midwifery school. We will have a big open area for classroom space that can also be used for yoga classes, drumming lessons, Tai Chi, whatever we want. The second floor will also hold an office, and a private therapy room that can be used for counseling, massage, chiropractic, lactation, other provider visits. There will be bathrooms on both floors and we have a full basement for storage. I am so excited about this space and the good work that will be accomplished in it. I feel that we (the board and I) are being entrusted with so much. I am ready for that challenge. I'm up for it.<br />
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One of my lessons in this journey of discovery is that I accept who I am- and all that comes with it. I accept that I am a leader in a movement and at the same time a deeply flawed person. I accept that I was given certain work to do, and that I must do it- to the best of my ability, for as long as I can do it. I accept others as they come and go to partake in this vision. I welcome those for whom this place has been prepared. I live in an extreme state of grace. I have so much to be grateful for. I am so glad I began this journey. It is tough from time to time, but overall, I confess- I love my life. I love waking up everyday and putting my feet on the floor and seeing my dreams become realized in ways I could have never expected. Everyday is a step of faith, yet everyday brings a miracle. Here are a few things in the works:<br />
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<li>The Gathering- A weeklong gathering in the woods of central Missouri for Black birth workers from Kansas and Missouri (and a few guests from other states) sponsored by Uzazi Village and Community Birth and Wellness. This is a learning intensive for us to teach one another skills that honor our African traditions. If it goes well, we'll do it annually, but maybe find a bigger space to accommodate more people. We will use grant money to underwrite the cost so that folks only have to pay a nominal fee. Families are welcome, but you must be willing to pitch a tent and help with communal meals. We expect this event to be ground breaking and move us all forward in the trajectory of becoming self sufficient within our own communities. </li>
<li>I will be starting a city-wide organization focused on Black infant and maternal mortality. Instead of playing at decreasing disparities, like current local organizations do now, we will do the actual work of dismantling white supremacy as it is expressed in healthcare organizations, that undergirds these disparities and makes them impenetrable to any clinical solutions. </li>
<li>BWOC- Birth Workers of Color will re-start in April 2017 every 2nd and 4th Friday of the month from 6-8pm. We will have a potluck meal and discuss issues of relevance to birth workers of color. We will share local and regional resources, trainings, and classes. The group will offer a supportive place to land for those who are in or seeking to get into the perinatal fields.</li>
<li>I will be moving deeper and deeper into anti-racism training, which I am feeling called to in order to work more closely with those who want to make real change. Warm fuzzy feelings don't change outcomes. Gut level hard work and sheer determination do. We can't keep pretending that getting Black women to come to (functionally useless) prenatal care visits will change outcomes. We have to do the work of dismantling discriminatory systems. We must and will focus our efforts there.</li>
<li>We are currently re-focusing, sharpening and refining Uzazi's vision. With the move to a new space, we will also be doing essential house cleaning with our Council of Elders to tighten things up in order to increase our influence and effectiveness and measure our impact in our community. </li>
<li>Increasing partnerships. Uzazi Village has worked in its own silo up to this point, but no more. It is now time to join others who are equally invested in the work we are doing to increase both our influence and impact. We look forward to working with others who have demonstrated a common lens on where the problem lies and who seek community led solutions that center families of color and Afro-centric values.</li>
<li>We now have the required five people (3 in Kansas City, 2 in St. Louis) to start a WOC committee of the Missouri Midwives Association. We will be applying to the organization to start such a committee within the greater organization. </li>
<li>Watch this Spring for the new Lemonade Series- a front porch gathering (with Lemonade) that will focus on real talk about women of the African Diaspora and Sex. Be sure to wear white, natural hair optional, and come discuss sexual health matters over a potluck lunch at the Guest House. We plan a series of 3 over the Spring and Summer over the following topics: Orgasm Class, Pregnant Sex, and Sex and Body Image.</li>
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There is this and so much more to come. I want to hear from the community, what more you would like to see happen at Uzazi Village. Thanks for listening.</div>
Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-46640231586856068952016-12-04T11:49:00.000-08:002016-12-04T12:27:36.150-08:00In the Space that Silence HoldsI have been silent of late. The events taking place in my life and in my country have demanded it. Silence and contemplation have always been my go-to's in times of deep conflict. Its important to me that I know my own mind on a matter, and I find my own mind in silence and solitude. The year 2017 marks not only profound changes for my country but for my personal life as well. I spent several hours yesterday morning with my 'brain trust' (my group of woman who hold me accountable) mapping out what the coming year will look like, what I hope to accomplish and how. I have tried not to fear change but rather embrace it, as a lifestyle choice. Now is my time to put this philosophy into practice. <br />
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<li>I left my husband and have moved into Uzazi House. My husband is an ardent supporter of the President-Elect, however I did not leave because of who he voted for, I left because our journeys no longer converge. I am connected to my husband, but we no longer share the same life. He has no understanding of my life mission, and remains unsupportive of my work, which he views as divisive and seperatist. My life at Uzazi House is frankly a dream come true. It is my quiet refuge in the storms of life. It is a three story, four bedroom house that I am converting into an AirBNB. I want to stop teaching and make my income more passive so I can concentrate on getting the midwifery school up and going- and complete my midwifery apprenceship, and keep moving toward my doctorate. I have no money, no assets to speak of, so the process is slow. I teach adjunct for local nursing schools and use this income to live off of and fix up the house. I spend as much time at Uzazi Village as I can, but my volunteers have blessedly filled the gap in my frequent absences. My children (all of whom are adults except the youngest one) are not happy that I have left but they have adjusted with ease to going back and forth between our houses (as have I- I still do my laundry at my husband's house). For now, things will continue as they are as we support one another and co-parent our children.</li>
<li>I am now two years into my midwifery apprenticeship and frankly I have not done a good job. I have been distracted and indifferent, but that is about to change. With the midwifery school on its way to me (the universe is making it happen without any volition on my part at all), I have to be ready when it arrives. There is so much work to be done, but the universe has delivered on my most fervent prayers- a building to house the school (and Uzazi Village). The commercial realty agent called me last week to inform me that she had found the perfect building for us. She is not given to hyperbole, so I was immediately intrigued. She gave me the address and as soon as I hung up the phone, I drove over to have a look at it. It was none other than the very building I had prayed to the heavens four years earlier for. I didn't have to see the inside. I already knew this was our building. There is still convincing the board that this is so, but that is a task I can handle. It turns out= when the broker did arrange a tour- that the new owner has gutted the building and will rebuild according to leasee specifications. We can get the build out to suit our specific needs! This excites me more than you know, Dear Reader. We can have a dedicated room for our Lactation Clinic and a modest exam room to jump start the Ida Mae (prenatal) Clinic. The second floor will house the midwifery school. There will be a commercial kitchen for cooking classes and a community garden just out back. It is just what we needed and all that I have hoped for. The vision continues to be manifested. We will have several months to plan and fund raise, while the owner rebuilds the interior of our building. My community is in the deep and demonic throes of gentrification. How has it happened that I should find a landlord (wealthy white male) who is community minded and wants to support nonprofits that benefit the community (rather than tenants who merely enrich themselves)? We currently have a wonderful landlord who is timely and attentive to our every need. I did not think we would be so fortunate as to find another like him, but we have. My community right now is crawling with the opportunistic who see a fast buck to be made if they have the money to invest. This man actually wants to invest in long term growth and improvement for the community and will support my vision in the process. I hardly know him, but I feel a profound gratitude for him. I feel that same profound gratitude for my preceptor. She has been patient and shown great forebearance. I will become a CPM, God willing, by this time next year.</li>
<li>The individuals I am meeting and getting to know as I invest in them, and they invest in me, has been phenomenal. They are salve to my wounded soul. Tru in St. Louis, Aza in DC, Danielle in Oklahoma, Qua Tia in Rhode Island, Darline in Austin, Justice and Ameena at Uzazi, the list goes on and on- these women are PHENOMENAL- and they are putting in the work, and getting the job done. My hope for the future is in individuals like these. They are bright, innovative, creative and passionate! They restore my hope in humanity while so much happening in my country right now diminishes it. I see my role as investing in individuals like these. I am hosting a ten week class free of charge starting in January for Birthworkers of Color. I have been given so much- time to give back. I am inviting those for whom the class would help into the next phase of their journey. We have got to start grooming our next generation of leaders. I call upon Leaders of Color across the US to do the same. Look amongst your ranks and pull others forward toward the next leg of their journey. Be a mentor, a teacher, a cheerleader, a preceptor, a friend to those just starting out, or somewhere in the middle of this vast and lonely journey toward health equity in our community. I am working with groups of others on several projects that I hope will have national impact. I am working locally and globally with a future orientation so that what we need will be there when we need it. We cannot depend on others to be attentive to our sufferings. Uzazi Village will be a beacon and all that come with a heart to learn, will be welcomed.</li>
<li>The political events of the past month have left me stunned and disoriented. I hardly know what to think, do, or say. Our country needs voices like mine more than ever. I'll press on to become the leader my community needs, to speak truth to power, to be unbending in the face of oppression and tyranny. To do this, I need more time of reflection, more silence and solitude, more filling of my own cup, more self care and self investment. (I also need a cat. I am an undeniable cat person, who has never lived [in adulthood] without a cat.) Uzazi House is in need of a warm and fuzzy feline presence to welcome those who come from far and wide to study at Uzazi Academie or have internships at Uzazi Village. I have no words of comfort concerning political outcomes. I do not know what this means for our country or what the future may hold. I do believe that we get the leaders we deserve, and for some reason we must live through whatever the near future holds. I do believe that if the national leadership does not embody the principles we hold dear, WE must embody them all the more. I will confess that a a part of me wants to close ranks- delve deeper into the Black community and make greater investment in that= and I will. However I will also continue to embrace those that I see as true allies (by my determination, not their's) and invite their contribution to the work. White people will have to be willing to earn any trust that comes their way. It does not surprise me that we are at a crossroads in our country. White people needed to know that racism is alive and well in America and now they know it. Let them grieve their new discovery. We will just get on with the work as we always have. I do see opportunity, once all the hubris is dispensed with to finally advance real dialog in this country about racial equity and equality. Make no mistake about it, Birth Work is racial justice work. Fighting for the sovereignty of birth, the health of women of color in birth, the right of Black babies to survive birth and infancy- that is social justice work. If political expediency and punitive policies abandons our communities, we will be there as a stop gap. We will train our own midwives, catch our own babies, create our own infrastructures if need be. I am a pragmatist, and will work with whatever systems are in place, but I also understand the role of the informal economy that undergirds the health and well being of my community. I will work for the health of Black families no matter what barriers are placed in the way.</li>
<li>Two and a half years ago I met a couple who inspired me to rethink what life partnership looked like. Their friendship has offered me an opportunity to consider what a life partnership with me has to offer. It would be difficult. Whomever I might be joined with in the future must not only understand or tolerate my work, but participate in it. My life is grounded in specific place and pursuits. This is a chance to reset my expectations both of myself and any future partner. What I find is that my expectations are high. I will be happily alone rather than ever be unequally yoked. I will only be with someone who is my equal and who is worthy of me. There will be no compromises made. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-56310269896263075122016-09-02T07:20:00.001-07:002016-09-22T09:20:44.505-07:00Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness- Walk Locally, Demand VocallyOK, I lied. I'm blogging... but its for a good cause. In just 23 short days, I will be doing my annual Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness, and I hope you'll join me. On Saturday, September 24th, we plan to walk 6 miles from Truman Medical Center to Research Medical Center, in recognition that most Uzazi Village clients deliver at one of those two hospitals. We plan to walk down Troost Avenue, the dividing line between Black and White in our community. It is not a protest, it is an awareness campaign. The purpose, as always is to bring awareness to the plight of Black life in America, starting from the day of our births. Black babies are twice as likely to die before reaching their first birthday as White infants. I walk to bring awareness of this largely invisible health crisis, and to bring solutions. So this year, we will be presenting both hospitals with our two new documents: "The Doula Rules; A Guideline for Integrating Doulas into the Facilty-Based Setting" and "Birth Plan for Black Families; Toward Greater Health Equity". Both offer viable solutions to the horrific social crime of Black infant mortality.This particular health inequity points to the unjust nature of the political, economic, and social injustice in the distribution of healthcare resources. I encourage others around the country to plan Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness events in their own communities. Our theme this year is "Walk Locally, Demand Vocally" We invite our friends, families, and supporters to walk with us. There may be other events happening in your community. Events such as the "Improving Birth Rally" happening this Monday (Labor Day). I encourage activists of color to participate in events such as this, to bring the concerns of our communities to the forefront. Without our participation, the concerns and issues of our communities will not be a part of the agenda. A group of local midwives is organizing our Improving Birth Rally this year and Uzazi Village will stand with them- to ensure that voices of color are heard. It is our women that suffer disproportionately from high cesarean rates and VBAC bans. We are the ones that cannot access breastfeeding help when it is needed and who are marginalized within the healthcare system. Its is our babies that die, two to one. Why aren't righting these injustices at the top of everyone's agenda and concerns? It is our job to make it so. Plan a walk in your community. Do a letter writing campaign to the administrators of your local hospital outlining the problem and offering solutions. Make your voices heard in the policy or political arena. Tell your stories to legislators. Have a nurse-in at the state Medicaid office. Highlight birth practices and practitioners that value Black life and Black business. Remove it from those who don't. Send the message that policies need to change in ways that positively impact Black health. If you can't be a part of these activities, send a donation to those who are doing the work. If you plan an event, please post it on the wall of the Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness page or the Uzazi Village community page. We want to hear about what you are doing. Can't join us physically to walk? Join us for our Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness Twitter Chat and Stroll. We'll be Twittering the entire walk, including our meetings with both hospital administrations. <br />
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Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-27380933861621924752016-07-09T06:00:00.000-07:002016-07-09T06:00:48.765-07:00Final Blog Post of 2016Dear Village,<br />
This will be my final post for the year 2016. I am taking time off from blogging to devote to completing my book, "Birthing While Black; how racism and white privilege kills Black babies." We are living in very difficult times. When I watch my TV and see thousands marching in the streets of American cities, I know change is coming. Whether it be for the better or worse, I do not know. All I know is that now is the time to add my voice to the conversation. Now is the time for the publication of my book. I will not only complete my book, but also write curriculum for my new cultural congruency training for maternal infant health organizations. I hope to complete both by December and start offering my curriculum in 2017 as well as (hopefully) a book tour. I am greatly disturbed by what is happening in our country, as are many of you. This is the contribution to that dialog that is for me to make. Thank you to those who continue to hear my voice.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-91784826329298372652016-04-17T07:35:00.000-07:002016-04-17T10:48:02.048-07:00MIDWIFE XToday I took a dear friend out to lunch and had the misfortune of sitting behind two white female OBs. I couldn't help but hear them loudly exclaim that they knew exactly what THOSE women needed to do to improve their birth outcomes. If I hear one more arrogant white person state what we need....I swear I'll explode. Truth be told what we need is a whole lot fewer arrogant white obstetricians thinking they know what ails us. What ails us is them. They are our problem, along with the entire healthcare system they rode in on. This also happened last month when I attended a monthly meeting on infant mortality and listened to blatant indictment of Black women as the cause of Black infant death. It simply is not so. All across the country I hear this, Black women, Black families, the Black community blamed for Black infant deaths. Deaths that are entirely preventable. Deaths that aren't prevented because Black lives don't matter in this country. Deaths that are caused by systemically racist healthcare and economic systems that fail Black women and Black families. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and I shall. Our hands are not the hands bloody with these deaths. Listening to those women smugly and arrogantly parcel out advice from high atop their mountain of privilege made me want to come up with my own list of demands that point out the true villains when it come to Black infant mortality.<br />
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BLACK WOMEN'S MATERNITY CARE MANIFESTO<br />
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Number One: (to Black women)<br />
Whenever you can, wherever you can, opt out of the system. This system is not intended for you, means you no good, and is largely responsible for your poor outcomes, while blaming you for them. Get out, however and whenever you can. Look for alternative ways to get your healthcare. Look for alternative providers. Pay for your own care, after all you really do get what you pay for. The 'free' government run system will keep us and our babies sick and dying. Get out of it if you can.<br />
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Number Two: (to Black people)<br />
We are not who they say we are. They pathologize us, but we are not pathology. It is not our bodies or our culture that is flawed it their system. Their flawed system pathologizes us. Our bodies are strong. Our minds are strong. Our collective will is strong. We have survived everything they have brought against us. We are still here. We still survive. Now it is time to thrive. <br />
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Number Three: (to white careproviders)<br />
Take your white hands off my Black body. Until you can see me, hear me, respect me, love me you have no business touching me. Every touch will be an act of violence upon my person. You do not have permission to touch me until you can see me. Until you can look at me as a real person and not a caricature or a stereotype, you may not touch me. Until you can actually listen to the sound of my voice and hear and respect what I have to say and not dismiss me, you may not touch me. You haven't earned the right. <br />
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Number Four: (to white people)<br />
Allieship on our terms. You are allies when we say so and how. Otherwise your allieship is not to be trusted. You are not to be trusted. You do not even know when you are being untrustworthy. You must depend on our guidance and our say so. If you are not willing to do this, we have no use of you. <br />
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Number Five: (to the Black community)<br />
Cultivate our own maternity care system. We must restore our community midwives. We must invest in midwifery schools and the midwifery arts. We must train our own to serve our own. We are the solution to the healthcare crisis that plagues our communities. Outsiders can only play a limited role, if any in relieving us of this burden of health outcome disparities. We must do it for ourselves. Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-37671908260240035302016-03-12T05:00:00.002-08:002016-03-13T08:35:18.482-07:00The Colonization of Black Birthing BodiesI attended a community meeting this past week. The meeting purpose was to examine causes for infant deaths in our community (which overwhelmingly happen to Black and Brown babies). Despite the fact that I was surrounded by leading professionals who were knowledgeable about all aspects of maternity and newborn care, the best they could come up with was to blame the victims (the mothers) themselves. There was no critical examination of the role of systemic racism within policies that kept them locked out of care. Only criticism of imagined failures of each mother as her case was presented. When I tried to point out that there may be other factors, there was deafening silence. I was told later by another party that my words were being dismissed by other participants because they had faith that the system was delivering good care. <br />
Well I have no such faith. I have watched Black and Brown women be chewed up and spit out by the system for decades now. Our current system of maternity care for low resource women is toxic and punitive. Privileged whites have no business judging Black and Brown women's healthcare decision making- they should be seeking to understand why they make the decisions they do. The paternalism and assumption of rightness is maddening. <br />
It is self-righteous attitudes like these that keep the system from being accountable to those it allegedly serves. The 'system' is deemed above reproach. Black and Brown women are not. Let's add insult to the injury of the death of a baby by questioning the mothers habits and motives. This is why we need to focus on system's change. No one is asking why Black and Brown women are twice as likely to be tested for drug use (when they are not twice as likely to use drugs). In my state it takes weeks if not months to be added to Medicaid and the mothers languish while they wade through a system sorely in need of an update. This is yet another example of hatred parading as helpfulness. The healthcare system is full of such landmines for Black and Brown women. They too believe the system to be altruistic, at least until they experience it for themselves.<br />
We have got to do better. We have got to be more intentional about examining how we arrive at certain outcomes. As I travel across the country I see more of the same. Legions of white providers that have written off their Black and Brown patients as irredeemable, while giving themselves complete immunity for their own implicitness in those terrible outcomes. While the lone voice of the professional of color is criticized for not bearing the party line. Where is the hope in this? How long will our bodies bear the brunt of suffering from white judgment and white indifference? When will corrupt systems be made whole, so that we are enriched rather diminished by our interactions with them? <br />
I think it may be- when we create our own.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-42438681646300169242016-03-07T05:51:00.001-08:002016-03-07T06:02:47.122-08:00What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've given a lot of thought lately to what it means to be connected in a common cause. I can't give up on allyship, but I have grown increasingly frustrated with it. The more I do this work, the more work I see that there is to be done. As I sat at a table with an elderly mother to mother support group leader this past weekend, trying to communicate the concept of systemic racism and the resulting inequities that exists within organizations and institutions, I realized we had no basis for a conversation. Our common verbiage meant different things. True communication was not taking place. We didn't even have enough in common to have a conversation. She looked hurt and so puzzled. Was I saying they had not done the right thing? Were not doing the right thing? That's just it, I said. What you perceive to be the 'right thing' is grounded in your own ethics and ideology, not ours. We are not on the same page about anything at all. What she perceives and what I perceive are worlds apart. She was very far out from beginning to hear my message. She was too stunned to have to accept that I did not accept 'her truths' as 'my truths.'I could tell she walked away from our conversation with a heavy heart. She is at a precarious point. She could just as easily reject as accept my point of view. It is difficult to accept that your thinking for so long has been really wrong on something. When it comes to health disparities, White people will have to accept some culpability right off the bat. For a) establishing and maintaining corrosive and corruptive systems that harm people of color continuously and b) for failing to recognize them as such. This fantasy world view must first be shattered. Its a very difficult and disorienting journey, but one that must be undertaken if any progress is to be made. If you are a White person and consider yourself an 'ally' but you don't feel as though your world has been shaken to the core or that everything you hold dear has been challenged, then you are not there. You have not arrived and your usefulness as an ally is truly debatable. Listen to this account I had with a friend on Facebook:</span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 12.88px;">Last night I hung out with my dear friend Karen. We taught an evening CPR class together and then went out in search of drinks. I was broke (per usual) and all she had on her was her "Apple Pay". We could not find a bar that took Apple Pay so we went to a late night Whole Foods and settled for soup and soda. As we laughed and talked, the conversation turned serious, and Karen (whom I've known and loved for nearly 20 years) began to tell me how she had been challenged by my Facebook page. I know that many of my former white friends have fled my page- some not before telling me how wrong I am. Karen said at first she felt just like those that left, she felt shocked and challenged by the things I was saying, but she didn't leave. She didn't unfriend me. She stayed and continued to listen even when she didn't understand why I was saying the things I was saying. She continued to read everything I posted. She too had grown up impoverished and didn't see how White Priviledge applied to her. And then one day, it happened. After reading someone else's post on the subject- a white person's- she suddenly understood. She said from that point on she began to see the small injustices, and what was worse, she couldn't unsee it. She talked about how disturbing and unsettling this kind of paradigm shift is. For forty plus years, she thought the world was one thing, and then found out it was quite another. As time goes on she notices things on a daily basis. How we all live steeped in this racist ideology that is American culture. She is a nurse, and as I've always contended, surely there's no American institution more corrupt, more morally bankrupt than healthcare. There is plenty for her to see. Karen says the discomfort is tremendous, and worst of all, she doesn't know what to do about it. She says its as though her dreams have been shattered. The world she thought she lived in does not actually exist. She compared it to the plot of The Matrix (a movie I have not seen). She says she is trying to find her way in this new, darker reality. She lives now in this uneven shaky world, surrounded by other white people who still live in the illusion. I can understand the supreme discomfort of this, but I resist expressing sympathy. After all, I never got to be a part of the illusion. I tell her that what she has to do now is tell others. Starting with her children. And her husband. Of course they won't believe her at first (maybe not ever), they'll deny and castigate her. They'll deny that they are racist or can be racist. But she must stand in her truth and speak the truth whatever comes her way. After all, she now knows the truth, and there is no going back from it. (Like after I had my first homebirth, I could never love hospital birth again.) I was so excited to hear that Karen had 'crossed over'. I have a daily onslaught of dealing with folks who think they have, but have only done so theoretically, but never had that 'road to damascus' conversion. They have adopted an intellectual argument, but they are not truly changed. They can talk the talk, but their truest selves peak out from behind the curtain and reveals itself. Those individuals are exhausting and come in no short supply. White people like Karen, who finally at long last 'get it' are few and far between. I know when I am in their presence because they are the only White people who do not drain my energy- and those encounters are rare indeed. I tell her that her discomfort is my salvation. Only when the mass of White people have reached the point where she is at, can we begin to have a national dialog on racial reconcilliation, until that point, there is no common ground for conversation. After all how can someone in the real world share a common vision with someone living in an illusion?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 12.88px;">This conversation is everything. But it cannot be had until you are a puddle on the floor, or balled up in the fetal position with despair. Only then can you be sure you have seen the light. Until you as a White person reach this point, you are not helping me, you are using me to help you. You are siphoning off my valuable time and energy to your own advantage. Keep learning and listening- to and from other White people until understanding comes to you. Until then, we are not even speaking the same language. I know what I am asking takes humility. White people are used to being right about things and its disorienting to hear about your mistakes from a person of color. You'll have to get used to that. You'll have to get used to a great many things in this new world of true equity where your thoughts and ideas take a back seat to others. It will be odd living in a world where Whiteness is not centered, and the lens through which all reality is viewed, but you will get used to it. When you come out on the other side, you'll find me waiting.</span><span style="line-height: 12.88px;"> </span></span></span></span>Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-82126499058920017012015-11-27T07:22:00.000-08:002015-11-27T07:22:06.083-08:00The Other Side of Adoption<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, I know I'm only the birth mother. I realize my story is of less interest. That I am much less important to the adoption story than the heroic and self sacrificing 'others.' I understand that in the popular narrative, my role is to be 'brave and selfless' and place my baby into the hands of others more capable and competent than myself- and then go away, fade into the background, forever. But I didn't go away forever. I found my son, after 31 years of seeking him. just a brief year and a half ago. Since that time, my life has become a roller-coaster of emotions. I've long wanted to write about my reunion journey, knowing full well this is not the version of adoption that people will want to hear about.</div>
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A week ago, I spent my son's 33rd birthday with him. I traveled to the city where he lives so that we could have our first official birthday celebration together, since the day of his birth. He wanted to celebrate with his old and new family members and assembled an assorted crew that included his bio dad and myself, his bio dad's wife and daughter, and his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. Tossed together like some exotic mélange of Black and White, young and old, we formed a family of sorts, our commonality being our love for and deep devotion to my new found son. As we sat in the restaurant he had chosen, and laughed, and joked, and shared stories, another family walked in. Two White parents and two Black children. I would not have noticed them, but my son pointed them out to me. He asked me what I thought about that family. I told him, they appeared to be a family formed by adoption and I did not think about adoption as I have previously thought. A few days later, he asked me to expound on that statement. We talked a good long while about the adoption process from my point of view. A birth mother's point of view. A Black birth mother's point of view. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My own adoption experience has caused me to feel a very deep sense of betrayal. My son did not have the life I thought adoption would afford him. The entire situation has left me feeling abused, abandoned, and misled. Don't misunderstand. Our reunion has been beautiful and wonderful. I love the man that my son is, and I understand that the life he lived has made him thus, but it was a life I would not have chosen for him (did not choose for him). Yes, I made the choice to give him up, and in doing so, gave up the rights to influence what kind of life he would have. Even so, the popular narrative about adoption is a lie. Birth mothers are only good and noble till they sign over their babies. Then they immediately transform into drug addicted crack hoes whom their babies are better off without. In the popular narrative, I'm the stupid, knocked up birth mother. Having come back into my son's life, I'm not supposed to have an opinion, or feel anything but gratitude for the life he was given. But I do have an opinion, and I do feel things other than gratitude. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This journey has been equal parts sadness, joy, regret, and gratitude. I love my son, with a deep yearning and longing that I lack the vocabulary to even describe. I have endured his curiosity, his anger, his sorrow, and have now I think earned his love and respect. When I tell him I love him at the end of our weekly calls, he now says it back. I know there has been longing and yearning on his part as well. He and his bio dad live in the same city and see one another frequently. My son has become a regular fixture in his bio dad's home. He is well loved by his bio dad's wife and daughter. We have all tumbled together to become enmeshed in one anthers' lives. It is good. It is satisfying. It is all that I hoped for and more. But it does not erase the lies that adoption tells.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In this moment, I hate adoption. I hate all that it stands for. I hate the lies it tells about me, and I hate the lies it told my son. I hate the lost years that I will never get back. I hate the lost memories that will only be told to me in past tense stories. I hate the lie that I did the right thing. I don't know that. I will never know if in fact I 'did the right thing.' There is only what did occur and what I did do. But I don't know that it what the RIGHT thing to do, or the BEST thing to do. I had several choices. I chose this. I don't blame anyone else for the choice I made. But there was deceit in it. I bought into the propaganda that adoption would make everything okay. I will never be okay again. Along with what I've gained comes its close companion, what I have lost. Knowing my son now, shows me in vivid detail, all that I have lost. All that I have gained in no way makes up for what was lost. I am left to sit here and mourn my losses silently, since all I should be expressing outwardly is my profound gratitude. I am grateful, but I have sorrow to match.<br />
Moving forward is where my hope lies. I look forward to knowing him, and creating our own memories. He is my son, I am his mother. We begin there. <br />
<br /><br />
<br /></div>
Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-33992159730419142972015-10-04T21:47:00.004-07:002015-10-04T22:02:12.511-07:00The Reluctant Revolutionary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ccnk1r3WvC0/VhIDFV6dpHI/AAAAAAAAByU/OmJjbAOJogc/s1600/storytelling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ccnk1r3WvC0/VhIDFV6dpHI/AAAAAAAAByU/OmJjbAOJogc/s320/storytelling.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Just returned from a weekend retreat at a retreat center in central Missouri. I met with the faculty of the future Uzazi Academie. We are still in need of a midwife to teach the second and third year courses, but we have the first year covered. Starting a CPM program is a large vision to hold, but so it a birth center and a prenatal clinic. There is so much going on all at once. I may be involved in creating a certification process for midwifery instructors and preceptors. I am humbled by this work, but it must be done and no one else in my local community has stepped forward to do it. Our community needs midwives now! We need birthworkers from within our own communities. Where are the Black nurses, midwives, doulas? We need them now, and if they don't exist- we must cultivate our own. There are marvelous women of color around the country doing great works- but there is so much more to be done. <br />
Our retreat was full of making prayers and calling upon the Ancestors for wisdom. There were five of us for the entire retreat with three more stopping in to join our circle for just a little while. We had gatherings around the fire circle, with our facilitator, Sister Morningstar. We gathered herbs, walked the creek, did journaling, feasted on delicious vegetarian meals, had drumming circles sang\songs, told stories, practice Village Prenatals, brain stormed and just took an opportunity to bond with one another. We talked about what type of school we wanted to create and what our future students would look like. We discussed the future of midwifery and where things are headed in the US. We talked about how this systemic racism has sabotaged communities of color and set them up for failure. We don't have high infant mortality rates because our bodies don't work, but because the system does not work for us. We are creating a new system, one that works for communities of color because it comes from communities of color. The Revolution is Real and we invite others to join us in this work. <br />
We are recruiting women of color who want to become midwives, lactation consultants and community health workers. A change will come when we create it. We are creating it now. <br />
<br />
Last weekend I did my Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness. I walked 10 miles on both Saturday and Sunday from Columbia MO to Jefferson City MO to bring awareness to this issue. I was accompanied by some amazing women- from across the state of Missouri. I am building a coalition of women who want to change the way birth is viewed and 'managed'. 'Expectant management' is no longer a viable philosophy for caring for birthing women. We must throw off patriarchal systems of oppression, that view women as broken and birth as something to be controlled. The current system of birth is literally killing us. Black women and babies suffer untold trauma and horror at the hands of the current system. We cannot continue this way. We will not continue this way. The way forward is full of hope. We have nothing to else to lose since our lives are not held sacrosanct.<br />
How can you help? Spread the word. Foward this essay. Tell women of color you know about our work. Support the work of Uzazi Village with a donation today. We are in need of support to keep the work going. We are in need of workers and interns. I could really use an executive assistant. Invite me to come speak to your group about Health Disparities in the Black Community or come here and share your talents with us. There is so much work to be done and the workers are so few. Challenge the status quo where you are. Push for change in your local hospitals and clinics. Speak truth to power. Demand a place at the table, and then fearlessly speak your truth. If we don't speak up, nothing will change. If we don't begin to make a change, nothing will change. Women and babies will continue to needlessly die. The Revolution is here and now.<br />
Donate here: www.uzazivillage.com<br />
<br />Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-68267503866629619662015-08-10T10:33:00.001-07:002015-08-10T21:23:25.788-07:00Dear White People...I don't know about you, but these blog posts get more and more difficult to write each time. The more I travel and talk to people and observe and witness the more clearer it becomes, that those who claim ally-ship are often the same ones maintaining the status quo. A few days ago I got a call to inform me that another (white) person had misquoted something I said in one of my presentations. Yes, I know. That happens all the time. You see, when I go and speak somewhere, I know that 75% of dominant culture people hearing my message will reject it. Immediately. Another 20% will consider it, but decide later, that no, I was wrong after all. But maybe, just maybe 5% or so will hear it and receive it and it will change their lives; in gut wrenching, heart rending ways. But they will be so much better on the other side. They will begin the process of transformation. They will see, hear, and understand for the first time ever. They are the lucky 5%. The other 95% will say I said things that I did not say. They will call ME a racist. They will say I don't like White people. They will say I don't think White people should talk to Black women about breasfeeding or birth. They will say many things, all of them untrue. I'm used to being misinterpreted. I come to town for the Five Percenters. The few who are ready to receive my message and allow it to change their perspective on how we deliver healthcare and health messages during the perinatal period. I don't want to make folks angry, but that's the most likely outcome of my telling the truth when people aren't ready for the truth.<br />
White people in this country are often misguided. Why else would my 'allies' cause me so much grief, pain, and moral agony? They can't even begin to grasp the most simple truths or have the most basic conversations about race. Rather than face the truth about their own racism, they contort themselves to continue their own delusions. Nearly all White people do this. Don't believe me? Find yourself in this list of ally act-ups from just the previous few weeks:<br />
<ul>
<li>A group of white professional women closed rank on a woman of color, effectively locking her out of the profession, (since mentorship is a part of the entry into the profession). They ignored and marginalized her, making it impossible for her to join their ranks, once they decided she was 'unworthy' yet if they sat in one of my seminars while I talked about diversifying this profession, they would NEVER recognize their own overtly racist act of purposely locking a woman of color out of the profession. They would cheer my message smugly agreeing that yes, of course the profession needed more women of color without ever giving a thought to the woman they had ostracized. (This by the way, is one of the problems with mentorship- it breeds 'good ol' girl' networks.) It's also why I started a mentorship program because this happens to women of color ALL THE TIME and everyone always thinks they have a good NON RACIST reason for not mentoring this woman of color (but its still racism).</li>
<li>A preceptor once asked me if the reason a client gave for not having me at her birth was racism in disguise. I answered, 'yes.' It took the preceptor two weeks of mulling it over, to recognize the client's discrimination. It took my own internal 'bullshit-o-meter' about 2 seconds to figure it out, but to be fair, I've had the lived experience of being Black in America to fine tune it. Most white preceptors would have never figured it out. Fortunately this preceptor and I discussed this topic openly and regularly but too many white preceptors NEVER have this conversation with their apprentices of color even when they witness clients abusing them. Most of the time they think they should get a medal, just for HAVING an intern/mentee/apprentice/student of color.</li>
<li>A national organization rolls out a new logo. They've gathered a 'representative' group of members to approve the new logo and when it is unveiled, it looks every bit as dominant culture as every other logo that preceded it. There is NOTHING multicultural or representative about it. I do not see me represented in it-anywhere, as usual.</li>
<li>I have witnessed several chest thumping events by older white women wishing to be recognized as 'pioneers' 'groundbreakers' or some such thing because of the work they did across the span of their careers. I am willing to allow for that. But here is what I won't allow. Don't say you did it for me, to open doors for me. You did it to open doors for other white women. Let's be honest, you did not spend your career creating opportunities for women of color. History just does not support that assertion. BIPOCS live as oppressed classes in this society and the agents of that oppression are white people. White women traditionally have responded in great numbers one of two ways, co-agents in that oppression or stunning silence. Those are the two main responses I see to this day, with rare exception. Oh there's lots of lip service, plenty of sound bites. But actual working to secure equity when it actually costs you something to do so- very little of that. The work white women have done to secure equality has been equality for themselves. I have noted their annoyance when young women of color take the spotlight. I've even seen them be publicly critical and turn the spotlight back on themselves. They want to be known as mothers of the movement. But this is a movement they can never claim motherhood to.</li>
<li>Please don't ask me to teach you how to "wrap your head", "do your hair that way" or other sacred traditions that I'd prefer not to share outside my intimate circles.</li>
<li>Had a client ask for a homebirth to 'escape' the system. With good reason. Her baby will probably be taken away and fed into the system that seems to exist to supply white families with Black and Brown babies. These women and their babies don't stand a chance. The system is not in place to help them but to further exploit them. They are mere commodities for the state to dispense with as they see fit. Woe unto them.</li>
<li>While traveling around I have encountered several White individuals who received a grant for starting breastfeeding support groups in the African-American community. These individuals have little to no ties to the community they want to start a group in and often don't know any qualified African-Americans! How do I know this? These people walk right up to me and tell me! I'm not blaming them for trying to seize an opportunity. I'm blaming the funders for setting up their grant in a way that allows outsiders to come in impose themselves on communities of color instead of building on the strengths and human resources already at work in those communities.</li>
<li>I get calls weekly from folks all over the country. White folks. They want to do this or do that for my community. They always get the same spiel from me. Who are your partners in the community? Of course there usually are none because as I'm told on a regular basis, 'there are no Black people doing this or that." My next question is always the same. HOW ARE YOU QUALIFIED TO KNOW THAT??? If you are a white person on the outside of the community looking in, how the hell do you know WHAT is going on inside? You can't tell me there is no one for you to support or partner with because you are not even qualified to go find an answer. You are just ASSUMING because no one presented themselves to you, that there is no one doing the work. This is just more White arrogance and privilege at work. You have NO IDEA was is going on in someone else's community. Plain and simple. You are an outsider. That's WHY you need to partner with an insider.</li>
<li>Just came from another professional meeting where I met the newest staff member of the team of a local hospital; another White female, even though the population served is 80% women of color, and even though I spoke up and said that I hoped the position would be filled by a woman of color prior to it being filled. But of course my saying that was offensive- because everyone they hire is qualified (and White). </li>
</ul>
<div>
So there you have it. Nothing changes. The status quo lives. Black people die. White people take offense. We must somehow manage the moral fortitude to speak the truth and do what is right, even in the face of systemic racism embedded in the healthcare system. We must speak truth to power even when we have very little power ourselves, we must take down Goliaths where ever we find them, whether it be by bringing legal action against unjust monopolies, creating our own organizations, or writing unpopular blogs we must do the thing we think we cannot. And then get up the next day.... and do it again. <br />
In solidarity <br />
<br /><br />
<br /><br />
Dear Readers,<br />
I have invited a guest post from someone I consider an ally. I think it would be good for White people reading this blog to hear a White person's perspective. This is written by someone I trust and respect and whom I believe understands the appropriate role of an ally. Dear Reader, I give you the thoughtful musings of Diana Casser-Uhl. <br />
<br /><br />
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">I met Sherry Payne for the first
time in 2013, at the USLCA conference. I had submitted my thesis a week prior
and had final exams still ahead of me before I was to graduate with my Master
of Public Health in behavioral science and health promotion. I had given and
was still to give presentations at several conferences that spring, and I was
looking for a job. I had reasons to be exhausted, and didn’t attend many
presentations at USLCA in favor of rest and preparation for my finals. Having
studied about social determinants of health as a primary and recurring theme in
my coursework, Sherry’s session, entitled “Chocolate Milk Café” caught my
interest. I had just spent the last 2 years learning about health disparities
and I wanted to hear about how I should help women of color improve
breastfeeding rates in their communities. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">What I got, though, couldn’t have
been further from my expectations. I heard words like “my community doesn’t
want you to come give us breastfeeding support.” Um, what? Is my IBCLC credential
not enough for women who look like you? I had studied up on “cultural
competence” so I was ready to be tolerant! I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">totally okay</i> with black people and I certainly wasn’t a racist. I
knew all too well what racists were and I wasn’t that!</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">“If you’re working with a woman of
color, and you want her to come to my breastfeeding support group, sure, give
her a ride if she needs one. Then wait for her in the car. Don’t come in.”
Again, I was shocked. Why shouldn’t I go in there? I had no problem with black
people! </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">It didn’t even occur to me that
maybe, black women had a problem with me, with my authoritative claims that I
could help them be successful. “Black women don’t want your white hands and
eyes on their breasts,” someone in the room said, and others – clearly others
who knew something I didn’t – robustly agreed. But wait? Isn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> racism? I shifted uncomfortably in
my chair and let the more courageous, more erudite (older) white women in the
audience carry the conversation. I knew in my gut that anything I might say
would be … wrong. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">“The black women I see at the
clinic where I work don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really want</i>
to breastfeed, anyway. “</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Energies were high in that room, and every point being made
seemed valid. We can’t make someone want to comply with our care plans, right?
I knew enough to understand that there were determinants beyond the clinical
setting that influenced the decision to breastfeed – family members, community
organizations, workplaces, society in general makes it difficult to breastfeed.
I also knew that, of those who managed to breastfeed anyway, most were white
and Asian women. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sherry
calmly but firmly fired question after question to the group. Her message was
to advise us that we can’t possibly know what it’s like for these women,
because our experiences were so foundationally different. How can a woman of
color in a community that does not support breastfeeding possibly breastfeed
for an entire year? When her mother, grandmother, and all of her aunties – all
of whom live nearby and are very involved in the upbringing of the family
babies – didn’t breastfeed and have no interest in re-learning how to take care
of babies, when they already know very well thank you how to handle a
bottle-fed baby?</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I wasn’t
feeling it. I was the first woman in my family to successfully breastfeed in 3
generations. And by “successful,” I mean my babies got nothing but my milk for
6+ months, from my breasts even though I went back to work in an unsupportive
(but thought they were supportive – the worst kind!) 10-12 weeks postpartum. I
breastfed through two pregnancies, I tandem nursed. My babies refused bottles
so I stayed up all night nursing them when they reverse cycled. I suffered
discrimination in my workplace. My mother and grandmother didn’t understand why
I breastfed, hasn’t I turned out just fine? Breastfeeding seemed so much
harder, and I was bringing that on myself. I had no sisters, cousins,
co-workers, or friends who valued breastfeeding and mothering at the breast the
way I did. I had terrible healthcare. My partner questioned my choices, felt
alienated from our families and our friends, and supported my breastfeeding
under what felt to him like sheer duress, all that only because I wanted to
leave our workplace and he was adamant about my staying in it. I wasn’t a
stay-at-home wife of a wealthy man in Lactopia. And yet, I was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">breastfeeding superstar</i> against every
barrier I knew of. I wasn’t buying that a mother could only be successful in an
environment that fostered success, because I had been successful in what I
thought was the very same environment Sherry was describing. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sherry
shared about Uzazi Village, a community center in the urban core that provided
perinatal health services and support to families in the neighborhood. She acknowledged
that those of us in the room were obviously there because we wanted to be part
of a solution, but kept driving home the point: we, ourselves – the white women
in the room – were NOT the solution. I hadn’t learned yet about the white
savior narrative, wherein learned white people descended upon a needy community
of people of color to save and fix them – but this was what Sherry was teaching
us about. Our job isn’t to go to Uzazi Village and provide breastfeeding
support, it’s to take an active role in the development and mentorship of women
of color so they can provide breastfeeding support in their communities. Our
job isn’t to tell the story of the marginalized, it’s to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get out of the way</i> and let them tell their own story – and, when
invited, to amplify their messages, to let women of color stand up on my
shoulders. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My
shoulders. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was at
that moment, over an hour into Sherry’s presentation, that the light bulb
turned on. I thought some more about how similar my own breastfeeding
experiences and efforts at early mothering had been to the circumstances Sherry
described in the community she served. Why did I overcome? What was different
about me? It wasn’t because I’m a better person, or a stronger person. It
wasn’t because I was more motivated or because I wanted to work harder. It
wasn’t because I loved my babies more than black women loved theirs.</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was –
and continues to be – because I was raised to question authority and to
exercise my own. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My own authority</i>. At
every turn – home, school, in jobs I held, in day-to-day interactions I had
with people I knew and didn’t know – I was encouraged to believe in myself.
That I could accomplish anything I set out to accomplish. The world was my
oyster, carpe diem. I received this message loud and clear, unequivocally,
every day.</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Mothers
don’t pull their purses and their children closer when I approach from the
opposite direction on the sidewalk. Drivers don’t lock their doors when they
enter my neighborhood and see me on the corner, waiting to cross the street.
I’ll tell you what else doesn’t happen to me. Just yesterday, I picked up my
keys to the apartment where I will live while I’m in school and my family is at
our home 250 miles away. There were several emails and posted signs in the
leasing office stating that I’d have to show photo ID to receive my keys. My ID
was never requested. The black couple receiving their keys were asked for
theirs by not one, but two employees at the complex. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I live in a
different world because I am white. Someone recently commented on Facebook,
about a political figure who has no concept of privilege, “he was born on third
base and thinks he hit a triple.” I didn’t earn the relative ease with which I
pass through my life, I was born into it. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I didn’t
learn too much about how I could provide breastfeeding support to black women
that day at USLCA, but I left Sherry’s session with an unrelenting discomfort.
I donated to Uzazi Village that week, to support a cause I believed in with
means I had. I was confused that the knowledge and skills I had acquired as an
IBCLC and a public health professional weren’t worth what I thought they might
be. I struggled for awhile with whether there was any place for me at all in
the fight against racial and ethnic health disparities. It would be a few more
months before I’d realize that the disparities are caused by systems, not
individuals, and eliminating those disparities would take a systemic effort. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">I’d love to tell you that from that
moment on, I’ve been a perfect ally, a white woman who waves my Magic Wand of
Privilege and makes things better for women of color every day while I scale
tall buildings in a single bound and mother my three children and get a
doctorate and … no. More often than not, I still feel helpless and lost about
what I can do, what I should do. More often than not, I still feel ashamed and
confused about the biases and prejudices I’ve permitted – and sometimes
continue to permit in my own thinking and behavior. I get frustrated that
certain ZIP Codes, even one less than 10 miles from my own, harbor awful, awful
health disparities, but I raise my own family in the ZIP Code where we have a
better shot, and I wonder if I an implicit or complicit supporter of the
structures that created those disparities – the structures that make it
possible for me and my white family to make a life in a town where black and
brown families have to work twice as hard to get half as far. I listen to and
do what I can to amplify the voices of my black and brown friends, peers, and
colleagues. I listen carefully. I listen to every word and, when my knee-jerk
reaction is to say “but that isn’t about race …” I stay quiet and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">keep listening </i>because it’s not my job
to tell black people in America what their experience has been or how they
should do things differently so they can be just like me. Their world is
different from mine, and my job is to bear witness, to believe what they say,
and, maybe by my words or maybe by my example, to challenge the systems that
make our worlds so different. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
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Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-4488571681059588672015-07-02T22:36:00.000-07:002015-07-04T12:04:37.342-07:00Another Committee? No Thank YouI am fresh returned from another trip. I had yet another opportunity to hear how yet another organization has set up yet another taskforce/committee/ad hoc group whose sole purpose is to yet again eliminate disparities within the profession and or within our community. It all sounded very familiar. Then I remembered why. I've been hearing these very same messages from every maternal infant health organization I've been a part of throughout my 20s, 30s, and 40s and now into my 50s. That is a grand total of 4 decades of listening to someone else's promises of a better day. That day has never come. Disparities still exist in all perinatal professions, and perinatal outcomes in the African-American community have actually gotten WORSE over the past 4 decades. <br />
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I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline yet another 'opportunity' to be on someone's super terrific committee designed to pull me and my community our of a socially-bound slump. There are those of us within communities of color creating real world solutions. Anyone who wants to be a part of those solutions can come join us- or go form another self-serving committee. The help our communities has been promised has never shown. While clinicians fight their professional practice battles, our women and babies die in greater numbers. We can't wait for others to prioritize Black lives. We must raise up an army of perinatal professionals that can care for our long neglected communities. We must lead these efforts ourselves. We are the only ones that will save us. We are our own best hope for ending health inequities. Learn about the groundbreaking work of Mama Toto Village, Common Sense Childbirth, the International Center For Traditional Childbearing, A More Excellent Way, and of course, Uzazi Village. These models were created within communities of color, by communities of color, for communities of color and they are popping up all over the county.<br />
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On a recent trip, I met with a group that will be starting a national association. We will decide and set the standards for programs in our communities and certify them- standards that are not exploitative and that truly support the attainment of improved outcomes. These are the types of efforts that all of us have the opportunity to participate in. I implore you to do these things in whatever capacity you can where you are, to what extent you can. We need to set the standards, hold the purse strings, give out the grants, offer the jobs, etc. Outside organizations, institutions and agencies will never hold the answer to healthcare inequities- they are too embedded in the culture of the problem or they are too distracted with their own issues to be invested in ours. Others may join us, but they may not lead. Please join me in being a part of the solution. Now is the time for brilliance and innovation. Let us be bold. Let us be decisive. Let us look inward to our own best selves. Let us seek the wisdom of the ancestors. We are our best if not only hope. If we do not find a way- there will not be a way.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-65654557435820166052015-06-08T06:48:00.002-07:002015-06-08T06:48:30.218-07:00The Village PrenatalA couple weeks ago, I was in Seattle and spent time with a Native woman who had made a good life for herself. She had a lovely family and home, a satisfying career and is well respected by her peers. She is a good deal younger than me and very accomplished. When we were alone together, I asked her a very personal question, one I was dying to hear her answer too. "Why didn't you get pregnant?" "What set you apart from me and many of your own peers whose life plans were altered by an unplanned pregnancy?" Despite having married the guy she dated in high school they did not have children until many years into their marriage. I really wanted to know what made the difference. I have her permission to share her answer. She told me, without hesitation, that it was two things: excellent school-based sex education, and a supportive parent willing to have the birth control conversation without freaking out. Wow. For the price of those two things, the world gets an accomplished individual who is making a positive difference in the world and in her community. Now, I'm not saying that an unplanned pregnancy ruins you- after all I had TWO kids when I walked across the stage at my high school graduation. But I spent most of my life catching up from that and only now have the productivity in my fifties that I longed for in my thirties. I was so entranced by this woman's story that it made me angry. Angry, that I live/work in two states that will only allow 'abstinence only' education in the public schools. Angry, that I see young women everyday who have little to no access to the knowledge and the birth control that would give them a fighting chance in life. Angry, that our state lawmakers have not expanded Medicaid. Angry, that our society can't wait to condemn unplanned pregnancy, but keeps effective birth control out of reach. Angry, that we set women up to bear the brunt of consequences from unplanned pregnancies. Angry, that we can't have simple conversations with our daughters and sons about basic physiologic functions. Angry, that we don't want women to have abortions, but we don't want them to use birth control either. Angry, that contraceptives aren't free and available to any and everyone who seeks them. Angry, that an unplanned pregnancy can send a family into a financial and emotional tailspin from which it may take years to recover. Angry, that we compromise our children's future by keeping them clothed in ignorance as if it were a virtue.<br />
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Interconception care (care BETWEEN pregnancies) is designed to get you healthy BEFORE you get pregnant and to help you space your pregnancies out. This is a luxury ideology when you don't have healthcare coverage BETWEEN pregnancies as our current system of Medicaid ensures. About half of pregnancies are unplanned (either due to a lack of use of contraceptives, or contraceptive failure). It varies from state to state from a little under half to a little over half, but here about half of pregnancies are covered by Medicaid. Medicaid does little to nothing to prevent or delay the next pregnancy, since women are promptly dropped from insurance at six weeks postpartum.(Just in time to resume sexual activity.) It will cover birth control obtained up to that six week mark but not thereafter. Providers don't help with their contraceptive bullying techniques (bullying women to get the shot or implant because its convenient for the provider- never mind what it does to milk supply or that it is not compatible with her goals or lifestyle). There is little about this system that actually serves women- especially women of color. It is designed to control and subjugate but not to facilitate health and wellness and informed choice.<br />
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I propose a new course. A way to circumvent an educational system and healthcare system that seeks to keep us uninformed and ignorant. Let's educate ourselves about birth and breastfeeding and contraception. Instead of approaching our births with drugs, fear and ignorance, lets teach ourselves what we need to know. Let's go door to door, house to house, community to community reclaiming our right to understand how our bodies work. Let's teach one another rather than depend on those who don't have our best interest or the best interest of our communities at heart. I propose that we start connecting through 'learning parties' that center around learning about our bodies, pregnancy and birth control. But it isn't just about learning new knowledge, its also about nurturing the pregnant person. This idea was created by my mentor, Sr. Morningstar. She calls them Village Prenatals. They bear no resemblance to clinical prenatals and there are no clinical activities. A pregnant person or persons is simply surrounded by their community in an intimate setting. A number of activities take place. First of all there should be good nourishing food and drink. There should be someone to take the lead. There should be a comfortable space for the pregnant person or persons to lie down. There may be drumming, singing bowls or other instrumentation. There may be incense or flowers. The rest of the party should form a circle around the person leading the Village Prenatal and the pregnant person. I have developed a 5 point itinerary that is specific for my community that can be followed or modified to your own needs:<br />
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Village Prenatal Template<br />
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1.An acknowledgement of past failures or harms. (Infant and maternal mortality) <i>I like to start with an acknowledgement of past harms or an honoring of lives already lost- I might do this with a pouring libation, a moment of silence or a guided meditation)</i></div>
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2. Replace the fear with knowledge. (Knowledge is power) (<i>the pregnant person is asked to give voice to their concerns first then their joys. I address those fears with knowledge (this is where teaching occurs) and we stand in agreement in any joys or rejoicing</i></div>
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3. Our bodies are amazing- restore trust in that. (Understand how your body works) (<i>Next we celebrate the body with some sort of body work; body painting, or a belly or foot massage, or belly casting or necklace beading or waist bead making or some other way to honor the body)</i></div>
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4. We are what we need-sisters supporting sisters. (we can be one another's best support) <i>(the next part allows the group or circle to interact by each gifting their own word of wisdom, or presentation of a gift, or participating in some way to honor the individual who is the focus.)</i></div>
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5. Restore community through conscious healing (focus on our corporate good) (<i>I like to end with a closing circle in which everyone offers parting words or wisdom- they can say what they learned, they can offer a thought to the pregnant person. It can end with a song, or with dancing or as it began with drumming or other instrumentation. </i></div>
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This is my template and you may modify if for your own use, and it may be used even if there is not a pregnant person being focused upon. Here is a template for doing a Village Prenatal with a group of teen girls:</div>
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1. Acknowledgement of the past: Begin with foot washing. A bowl is brought forth with water, essential oils, herbs, flowers, and there is a ceremonial washing of feet by the elder women of the younger women</div>
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2. Replacing fear with knowledge: As the young women sit in an inner circle and the older women in an outer circle around them, teaching can be shared on menstruation, pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding, motherhood, whatever the selected topic is. </div>
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3. Our bodies are amazing: The girls can be led in creating menstruation bracelets or waist beads or body painting.</div>
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4. We are what we need: share songs or drumming together. Elder women can weave a thread from girl to woman as they share their own stories of initiating menstruation.</div>
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5. Restore community: Each elder commits to support a young woman in her journey, to become a source of support and encouragement. Each young woman commits cultivate self love and trust.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Here is a template for a gathering of pre-pregnant young adult college or career age individuals:</span></div>
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1. Acknowledgement of the past- Participants can write notes to their mothers stating what they are most grateful for about her mothering.</div>
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2. Replacing fear with knowledge- The education can be on the topic of "What you need to know about pregnancy and birth"</div>
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3. Our bodies are amazing - The group can watch a birth video of a natural homebirth with explanations of what they are seeing</div>
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4. We are what we need- There could be a round robin on how what they have learned will shape their birth experiences or how they will support one another</div>
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5. Restore community- Participants can make care packages to donate to a women's shelter as their closing activity.</div>
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Those are a few ideas off the top of my head for gatherings. They can be done in homes, churches, clubs, civic groups, schools, or just a gathering of friends. The theme is birth, breastfeeding or sexual health. I am committed to leading five of these over the course of the summer to kick them off in my community. You must be a woman of color. Contact me, I'll help you plan it, and then come to your location (in my city) and help execute it. You must be willing to have photos and videos taken to upload on a community page I'm going to create called Village Prenatals so that we can all see and learn from other's examples. If this resonates with you, you are a woman of color, and you live in the Kansas City area, please contact me in the comments section of this post or by email at sherry@uzazivillage.com</div>
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I believe we can change our community by educating and nurturing in this way. If you think so too, contact me and we'll talk. I hope you will try this in your own community, whoever and wherever you are. Let's start a revolution. </div>
Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-50897206803509001642015-05-03T08:37:00.000-07:002015-11-26T07:23:50.476-08:00All Hail the Queen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(This story shared with permission.) No, not that Queen! But mad props to the Duchess of Cambridge for being delivered by Black Midwives! While that historic birth was happening, another was going on right here in Missouri outside the view of cameras and media. A Black working class woman, appropriately named, Queen, gave birth to her third child in her own house, UNASSISTED, save one quiet witness- me. Queen labored all alone in her home, keeping in touch with me by text from the time her water broke at her job on Friday afternoon until I joined her in the wee hours of Saturday morning. I arrived at her home at 2:30am to find Queen laboring naked in her living room. Signs of active labor were clear. She was alone in the house, her other two children were spending the weekend at their father's home. The lights were dim, and smooth mellow jazz blasted from a CD. A shower curtain covered the carpeted floor. Pillows and cushions were piled on the floor near the sofa to make a resting place. Bottles of water and juice loitered about the room.<br />
She labored on her feet and on all fours. She moaned quietly through her contractions which came with efficient regularity. I sat on her sofa and said nothing and did nothing as she continued her labor just exactly as she had been doing before I arrived.<br />
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I had met Queen less than two weeks ago. She called me asking for an appointment to see because she was referred to me by a city bus driver! She was clear that she wanted an unassisted home birth. She showed up at the appointed time and I listened to her story; she had had two hospital births that had left her feeling traumatized and she simply refused to return. She was knowledgeable about the risks and had breastfed her other two babies. I sat stunned as I listened to her. This was the woman I had been waiting for. I wasn't even sure she existed. A Black woman from my own community who through her own knowing and knowledge seeking understood and believed that she could birth her baby simply, with ease, in her own home. I nearly wept with joy. We have been so beaten down and subjugated in birth that I almost never encounter women from my own community who believe they can birth their babies without medical intervention, guidance, or surveillance. I was so excited, I almost ruined Queen's birth. She had not sought out prenatal care. At first I insisted she see my preceptor midwife, get labs and a sonagram done. She wanted me to be there for her birth, but at first I didn't know how to do that, except in the context of a midwifery student. She acquiesced. I was in essence forcing midwifery upon her. Then I read this Facebook post by my friend Ameena Ali Jones: "Birth workers, please...I beg you....STOP TELLING MOTHERS THAT THEY HAVE
TO DO ANYTHING!!!!!!! All she is required to do is Labor and
birth...THATS IT!!!" It was as if she wrote it directly to me. I took it to heart, repented of my deeply rooted dependence on the birth machine. Queen was willing to do all that I asked because I was doing the asking but then it hit me from Ameena's post that I was not honoring Queen's wishes for an unassisted birth at all- I was just gently coaxing her into the kind of birth I wanted to do. I had made it about me- about my comfort- the very thing I accuse physicians, and midwives in hospitals of doing all the time to the women of my community. I apologized to Queen. I cancelled the appointment with my preceptor. I told Queen I would be happy to come alongside and witness her birth. I would not come as a midwife (because I am not one yet) but I would come as a companion and sit beside her as witness to her birth. Her water broke the next day.<br />
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As I sat on the sofa in the tidy little bungalow, Queen labored beautifully. I had no supplies with me. I didn't even interject encouragements like, 'you can do it' or 'you're doing great' She did not need even that. She did it all on her own. About 30 minutes after my arrival, she began to bear down. She was kneeling down with her head resting on the sofa. She stood and began to push. I moved in closer and took several pictures with my phone. By the time I moved from the sofa to her side, the baby's head was already out. I grabbed a nearby towel and gently caught the baby and laid it down between Queen's legs. She wanted to know if it was a boy or girl, but I told her it was not my place to say. She scooped her baby up and after five minutes of oohing and ahhhing, she gently unwrapped the towel to reveal the gender. The baby cooed and later cried all from the safety of her mother's arms. I marveled as Queen never even sat down but began to nurse her baby standing naked in her living room. After 30 minutes her placenta came out, we then burned the cord and tied it with the shoestring Queen provided. I watched over the baby, as Queen showered, then tucked them both into bed. <br />
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As the sun rose beckoning a new day, I drove home and left Queen with her baby nursing in her arms. I realized that I want more of this, more dependence on the mother's own knowing and wisdom. Earlier the previous day I had attended a town hall meeting on maternal mortality. Talking heads from our state capital were in town to present on current disheartening trends- expert statisticians and epidemiologists who would have believed that the answer to those problems lie in exactly what Queen did NOT do; more medical surveillance, more technological control, more dependence on the cult of expertise. I began to see things differently on that ride home. Queen was her own best hope. Not the state experts, not even me. Women taking back their births, even from the so called experts is what will save them. Listening to all the experts in the room made it clear: THEY HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO HELP US. We just die, and they just throw up their hands. Even worse, they think its our fault we are dying- they don't even see their own culpability. The answer lies with us, not with them. Self reliance and self management within our own cultural context will save us, not waiting around for dominant others to fix us. Am I saying that unassisted birth will fix health disparities? No, but I'm no longer willing to rule out that it has a useful role. Today, all of Queen's female relatives are rethinking everything they think they ever knew about birth... with all my millions of classes I teach, I couldn't work that kind of magic. Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-6262110694481417162015-03-23T18:41:00.001-07:002015-03-23T19:10:49.031-07:00Black But Not Like MeI had a recent conversation with a woman from Tanzania. Emelda (not her real name) will be working with Uzazi Village. It is rare that I get to really have a heart to heart with a Black person who is not African-American. Emelda came to the US for college, married an American and is raising her family here in the US. She is on faculty at a local university. I couldn't wait to ask her something I had long wondered. What is it like to be raised in a place where Blackness is not vilified and demonized? Where whiteness is not culturally centered? Where standards of beauty are not eurocentric? Where Blacks are not first seen as a problem to solve. Where every cultural reference, however subtle and intricate sends a negative message about about who and what I am? What would it be like to grow up free of the weight of those lies? She answered simply, "I can't explain it, but every time I fly home, I feel as though when I step off the plane, I leave a burden behind me." <br />
I have long been curious about the 'burden' that we as African-Americans shoulder. A burden made more wearisome by the oft heard denial of systemic racism. Now that I have started the conversation, I am insatiable to know more. What would it be like not to have every sensory experience that comes to me, not filtered through a racially white lens? A lens that reflects back only negativity about who and what I am. Caucasians adamantly deny that they are taught from the crib to distrust and look down upon African-Americans, but the contempt is palpable in this country. <br />
I'm fresh off a weekend binge of African and African-American themed movies. I love getting lost in a world where brown skin is the norm, and where I'm not forced to contend with the relentless elevation of all things White. I long to experience what Emelda spoke of; a laying down of the psychic, soul-felt and weighty stigma of being brown in America. There is no escape from it here, where being diminished is a constant way of life. I must constantly do battle in my mind, not to believe what is relentlessly communicated in ways large and small. I have to help my children do the same. I must actively reject lies told about me in this culture- that I am bad, unworthy, unintelligent, less than in every way, nor accept the lies told about Whites, that they are good, worthy to be the focus of attention and elevation. I have to fight back against the almost passive infiltration of my own internalized oppression. I have no history because in the schools of my country, my history is ignored while I am taught the history of the White man as Lord and Master of the Universe. I have no mother tongue, nor tribal affiliation. My values, my esthetics, even my linguistics are undermined. <br />
I have to wonder, who would I be, if I hadn't spent a lifetime listening to overt and subtle messages attesting to my inferiority? This culture is brutal to people of color, diminishing our own sense of self and human potential if we are not constantly rejecting the lie, that white makes right. <br />
Then for an encore we are told, we are imagining it all, by the very ones from who the smug superiority emanates. I hope someday I find out, what its like to be Black without the baggage.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-4223447566570631152015-02-01T08:57:00.001-08:002015-02-01T13:28:31.284-08:00Allies Behaving BadlyExamples of behavior I have seen in the last few months from 'allies':<br />
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<ul>
<li>A group of mostly White women start a Facebook group for Black Breastfeeding Mothers that the white women admin, and never miss an opportunity to promote their agenda of diversifying a specific breastfeeding support group. I have pointed out that what they are doing constitutes an ethical breach (admining a group for Black women when they are White AND using the site to promote their agenda of diversifying their own group, which may not be consistent with an agenda of supporting African-American breastfeeding mothers.)</li>
<li>Watched a for profit company try to invade an urban African-American community to make money while framing it as 'economic empowerment' when it was more like 'economic exploitation'</li>
<li>A woman of color in another city contacted me to inform me she had co-written a grant with an ally, one that required a woman of color in a leadership role. When the grant was received, she was promptly removed from her position working with the project. There are now no voices of color on the project, even though the funds are aimed at programs for Black women.</li>
<li>I have seen countless groups scavenge for funding aimed at programs for Black women, even though these groups have no ties whatsoever to the Black community. I have watched them scramble to get any Black face they could find on their committees and use these people mercilessly to push their own agendas.</li>
<li>I have seen Black run community-based organizations and coalitions quietly step aside in writing for these same grants for fear of stepping on the toes of those in power.</li>
<li>I have seen individuals of color elected to top ranking positions in clearly White organizations, so that those organizations can claim diversity, when all they really have is one lone person of color floundering in a leadership role in which they alone are expected to do the work of making significant change throughout the organization to promote diversity, when these organizations clearly have no desire to change anything, except how the top leader looks.</li>
<li>I have seen organizations talk the talk, but refuse to walk the walk. </li>
<li>I have seen all manner of disparities pimping. </li>
<li>I have seen so called allies argue down people of color telling them their ideas for what is best for their communities, and instead pushing through their own agendas.</li>
<li>I have seen small groups of peoples of color struggle as they were torn between meeting the needs of their communities on one hand and please the White purse string holders on the other.</li>
<li>I have seen 'allies' write grants so that they get paid to recruit VOLUNTEERS of color into birth or breastfeeding work in efforts that are clearly not sustainable.</li>
<li>I have seen organization claim to want to be anti-racist without a willingness to invest in the hard work of actually becoming anti-racist. </li>
<li>I have seen organizations approach communities of color only when they need something from them such as a focus group for a report to legitimize the work they are doing.</li>
<li>I have seen so-called allies never question their motives, their tactics, their presence in communities of color or call themselves into account for their lack of progress or change in those communities.</li>
<li>Shamelessly appropriating and cannibalizing Black culture when it suits the need.</li>
<li>I see people of color sidelined, marginalized, made invisible, disregarded, silenced, and worse for trying to help their own communities through the vehicle of dominant culture organizations holding dominant culture values. Their opinions are not sought out, nor are they highly regarded within those organizations for the value they bring. Far from it. </li>
<li>I have had groups approach me to talk or do a webinar, as a check off for their diversity to do list, without any interest in actually changing the organization.</li>
<li>"Helping" Black mothers by attacking aspects of Black culture, and inviting them to question the wisdom of their elders in inappropriate ways.</li>
<li>I have seen program managers brag about the numbers of low level workers of color they have recruited, when those workers don't make a living wage, receive benefits, or even have fulltime hours or job security. The managers recruiting them of course, take all those economic niceties for granted.</li>
<li>I have seen many allies expect people of color to change to come be with them, but have seen none willing to change to be culturally appropriate to enter communities of color.</li>
<li>Allies will volunteer to do work in their own communities, that they must be paid to do in communities of color.</li>
<li>I am getting scads of invitations to talk for 'Black History Month'</li>
<li>Allies will scramble like crabs in a bucket to get monies aimed a communities they know nothing about.</li>
</ul>
I could go on, but I think you get my point. All of this amounts to the same thing. Folks that are supposed to be helping us are instead helping themselves and preying off us. Feasting on our slowing decaying and disparity-ridden bones. Health inequities = Social and Economic and Healthcare and Reproductive Injustice A system such as this could have only evolved in a supremely racist and oppressive society. An entire class of educated and employable folks make their living feeding off the poor and peoples of color and call it social benefit. How did we come to this? More importantly how do we get out of it? I have an upcoming webinar on February 17, 2015 with Preclarus Press called, "<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">With
Friends Like These… 10 Steps to Creating Mutually Beneficial Relationships with
Persons and Organizations of Color"</span>. Stay tuned and keep listening. I'm hoping that allies will want to do better, once they know better.<br />
<br />
For my brothers and sisters toiling in the trenches, starting in February, I will offer a monthly conference call that you can join. Watch my Facebook page for details. We will problem-solve with one another on how to exist and manifest effectiveness and excellence in racist and oppressive organizations and or systems. The calls will be limited in numbers of callers, so it will be on a first come, first served basis. That way we can address one another's issues in greater depth. We will create our own brain trust and self help group to address issues commonly encountered by people of color working in the birth and breastfeeding fields. If this describes you, please join us. Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-24902958671716577702015-01-01T13:29:00.000-08:002015-01-01T13:29:27.418-08:00The Way ForwardYesterday, I had lunch with a former nursing student of mine. We met at a local pizza joint and she told me all about her new position at my old hospital. I loved our visit and am grateful that I often connect with former students who are constantly moving forward in their career trajectories. This visit felt very deja vu' as she spoke about the highs and lows of working in a teaching hospital. I know all too well the agonies and ecstasies of working in such a facility and tried to advise her as best I could. The facility had recently become "Baby Friendly" (that means it is certified by a national body as having policies in place that promote breastfeeding). But while the practice policies have changed dramatically, the underlying soul sickness of the place remains. <br />
<br />
My 'relationship' with this hospital spans my entire life cycle. In fact I could say that my story is inextricably entwined with this facility. I was born across the street from the current hospital at its predecessor, General Hospital N. 2. Even the name speaks to its legacy of racism. In my mother's day, Whites were cared for at General Hospital N. 1 and Blacks at N.2. By the time I was born, both facilities had merged and it was informally simply called, General Hospital. It was within its ancient corridors that I would get my first glimpses of White people, who did not exist in my day to day life. Little girls my size, except for their pale skin and curious twin braids trailing down their backs. In 1976, the old General Hospital closed its doors for the last time, and a new upstart hospital, bright and shiny new was built by the city. It was named for Harry S. Truman, the former US President, from Missouri. My first major interaction with this new hospital was, when I went there to give birth to my first child. <br />
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I was and am a voracious reader, and I had read everything I could get my hands on about pregnancy and childbirth. The year was 1978. I was fifteen- a sophomore in high school. The natural birth movement was in full swing. I was fascinated by my own pregnancy and began immediately to amend my orientation toward healthy behaviors. I was fascinated by books I found in the library on homebirth and natural birth. I somehow intuitively knew that these books were onto something. Some very deep and veracious knowledge that I had never heard spoken, but as soon as I saw it on the page, knew that it was so. I also knew that that birth experience was out of my reach. I knew I would get the 'typical' Truman birth. I was however committed to a natural birth. I knew I would not take their drugs. When the time came, to push my baby out, after a hefty labor of Lamaze style focused breathing, the resident offered to give my 'something for pain' which I declined. He shoved a large needle into my vagina anyway, numbing me with what I would later come to discover was a puedendal block (an early precursor to the epidural). I remember my anger at being ignored. I had worked very hard for my natural birth. I had endured a Pitocin enhanced labor (that I didn't know they had given me until decades later when I read my old chart), with techniques I had taught myself. I was left to largely labor alone and then when it was time to push, had my desires completely disregarded. I was invisible to them. They neither saw me nor heard me. I was merely a revenue producing commodity. It didn't matter in the least that I spent months teaching and preparing myself for my birth. In the end I was given over to these people for their purposes, their agenda, their learning. I was completely at their mercy, except there was no mercy to be found in them. There was nothing I could do as a young Black girl to make myself visible to them. <br />
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When I returned to Truman, some twenty years later as a brand new graduate, labor and delivery nurse, I brought that experience with me, and saw my new patients through that girl's eyes. Nothing had changed, nothing. The population of largely Black and Latino women were simply fodder for the mostly White and male resident's learning. I'd sit in the nurses station and listen to the White nurses talk about 'those' people and judge them by their own imperial standards even though they knew nothing about the world the patients had come from and would quickly return to with their babes in arms. The doctors and nurses were completely ignorant of that world. They only passed it in a quick blur as they sped through it in their shiny cars enroute to more prosperous lands. They learned on our Black and Brown bodies, learning to despise the very ones they owed their learning to, and quickly went on the their 'real' jobs after residency caring for Nice White Ladies. White ladies who would reap all the benefits of their doctors having learned to sew up a nice tidy episiotomy after fucking it up on several Black women first.<br />
<br />
All these memories came flooding back to me as I sat and lunched with my former student, now a nurse on the very unit that had caused me such sickness of soul. My experiences on that unit, first as a birthing women, and later as a nurse are exactly the reason Uzazi Village was born. I had been back there recently as a doula with a client during a three day long induction. I could testify to the policy changes that had put a spit shine on the appearance of the care. The residents had been taught to say all the right things. The nurses sickly sweet. But upon closer inspection, I could still see the unseemly underbelly of racism, intolerance, white privilege, and discrimination that ruled the culture. The underlying assumptions were the same. "Do what we tell you to do and don't ask too many questions. If you do, we'll label you 'noncompliant' and punish you and your baby." And they have so many ways to punish. <br />
<br />
It's easy to see that moving to evidence-based care won't change outcomes either. This is the very essence of a white-washed tomb. It is the underlying systemic racism that is woven into the fabric of healthcare institutions that must be cut out like the cancer that it is. Evidence-based care is a clean white bandage over a gaping pus-filled wound that continues to seep. Change the bandage as many times as you want- that does not fix the problem. I am more convinced than ever that my path is true. We must build systems of care for our own. We will never find the health and vitality and wholeness we seek in the reflection of someone to whom we are at best, invisible, and at worst despised.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-1141469327699897732014-12-14T15:17:00.002-08:002014-12-14T15:35:46.752-08:00Saving Our Communities May Entail Some Hurt FeelingsI can remember as a child, crying inconsolably. My mother asked me, 'What's wrong?' and I answered, "You hurt my feelings." Her sassy retort? "I'll hurt more than your feelings, if you don't stop all that crying!"<br />
<br />
Since my last post, I have tussled with the most obstinate of allies. Folks who are literally, 'helping us to death'. They refuse to listen. They refuse to understand. They refuse to give way. All they can see is their own brilliant ideas. All they can wonder is why we don't get on board with them. I have used my most eloquent voice to explain what effective allyship looks like. The response? Apparently I hurt some feelings of some 'sensitive' allies. It's time to change tactics. <br />
<br />
Women of Color, we must rise up and lead our communities out of this mess. No one else can do it. We must do it ourselves or it won't get done. I know its not fair, that huge agencies that are outside our community get millions to decrease perinatal health inequity and go decades without any positive effect from all those tax payer dollars. Our communities continue to suffer. Our babies continue to die. With all the odds stacked against us, we must save our communities anyway. Don't let your shortage of resources stop you. Be brilliant and innovative. We must let nothing stand in our way. <br />
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I attended a birth last week that against all odds, ended in a much desired VBAC. There were trade-offs. Such as the 12 people that crowded into the mother's room while she was pushing, spread eagle in stirrups, you know, 'to help'. They mostly helped themselves to observing another birth to help them get their numbers, but were certainly of no use to the mother who had to endure the indignities of all those strangers in her birthing room. Then there was the 'needed' episiotomy. Needed I'm sure because a resident 'needed' to practice doing one and another 'needed' practice sewing one up. These and many other indignities are endured by our mothers daily in maternity 'care'. The racism and classism is embedded in every brick the buildings are created with. <br />
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We already have brilliant examples. If you haven't done so already, pick up a copy of this month's Essence magazine and read about Aza Nedhari and Mamatoto Village in Washington DC. She and her team are doing amazing things with bigger plans in the works. It is possible for us to change our communities from the inside out. Just look to Jennie Joseph, Kathryn Hall-Trujillo, Shafia Monroe and many others who are creating the change we need to bring our communities back to health and vitality.<br />
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At Uzazi Village our goal is to expand Uzazi Academie which will train local women to be birth workers including doulas, lactation consultants, and midwives. Our prenatal clinic and birth center will serve community mothers in a culturally appropriate and humane way. I implore birth workers of color to do the work only you can do in your corner of the world. Spread the word person, by person, that birth belongs to us. We are the experts. <br />
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I interviewed my first homebirth clients as a midwife under supervision-an African-American couple having their first child. What a salve it was to my soul to hear them talk with a united voice about their desires for a homebirth for their baby. Informed, enthusiastic, optimistic couples just like them are the best hope for our future. She will be one less Black woman treated with all manner of indignities and used for someone else's learning, her baby will be one less Black infant subject to needless interventions and needless disruptions to their bonding process, her husband will be one less Black man treated as invisible and superfluous to the process of the birth of his own baby. My goal is to multiply their numbers until they become the norm rather than the exception.<br />
<br />
If you are a woman of color doing birth work in your community, join the National Perinatal Taskforce and the National Association of Professional and Peer Lactation Supporters of Color if you do breastfeeding support and advocacy. We need to begin to create a tapestry across this country of community-led programs and community-based agencies. We need to know who we all are. We need to increase the national dialog among ourselves. Please be on the look out for continuing conversations for our communities online, in Facebook, Google Hangouts. Join those dialogs, and let us work together for the good of our own communities.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-64145628067174829872014-11-02T10:08:00.004-08:002014-11-02T10:08:42.840-08:00But I Meant Well...Listen people. It is not racist to talk about race. It is not racist to mount efforts that are culturally targeted and that focus and race-based disparities. It is however destructive and exploitative to take and utilize resources that could be used at the community level to impact individual lives and outcomes, and use those resources in trivial and useless pursuits that do nothing but enrich 'the helping class' and then say it was for the community's good. That's a working definition of disparities pimping. Just because you have a great idea, doesn't mean its appropriate for you to act on it. I got calls from all over the country from folks who wanted advice from ME on how to write a grant that I was also competing for. These folks often had no connections to the Black community but wanted to appropriate funds intended to benefit the Black community because... well just because. This is not appropriate. I don't care how well you mean.<br />
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It hasn't been all bad. I had wonderful midwife mentors who welcomed me to their birth center and treated me like one of their own (ditto with my midwife hostess who let me crash at her house for two days, and the Kansas City supporter who handed over the keys to her car so I could get to St. Louis and back after my car died.) I so valued my time at a local conference to connect with midwife powerhouses, Jennie Joseph and Shafia Monroe. I was nurtured and enriched by my time with Jeanette McCullough and Sister Morningstar. I had a productive trip to Nebraska and loved my time Liz Brooks, an insightful person and a gifted speaker at the podium. I returned home to welcome new members to our Council of Elders at Uzazi Village- all women I love, admire and look forward to working alongside. I can't wait to get to Atlanta, to bask in the radiant glory of women like Kimarie Bugg and Ameena Ali. I'm headed to training provided by an ally who 'gets it'. When I return home, it will be to other allies like Diana Casser Uhl who support the work that I and others like me are doing. However, the following scenes from my life, tell me there is much work to be done.<br />
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scenario a) I've been speaking to several communities with no connection to their African-American counterparts. Two local organizations in a city with a 50% African-American population banded together to write a grant that supports African-American women breastfeeding- even though there is no representation within either of these organizations that represents the community where the work is to be done! We cannot continue to do business as usual like this. This is disparities pimping at its finest. Why do these organizations think they have the right to apply for grants aimed at our communities when they have no ties to our community? To continue to do this is pure and simple colonialist thinking. They can take money on our behalf under the guise of serving us (while they really serve themselves), but can't make any reasonable overtures into the community to connect with members of the community? What hope is there for the success of their programs? Shouldn't the infrastructure come first? then programs they support? We do not need more well meaning people to come into our communities with yet another brilliant idea to save us. But of course, they mean well... (Sent out mass email to those involved at leadership level.)<br />
<br />
scenario b) One of my Chocolate Milk Cafe's (TM) was forced to change its name (therefore disqualifying it from being a Chocolate Milk Café (TM) ) when administrators up the ranks found the name to be 'offensive" and issued a gag order to prevent them from sharing their success with the greater organization. They were given a choice to change the name or keep silent (there's that silence thing again) about it during an annual gathering to share their success with other counterparts in other parts of the state. So let me get this straight, its okay for culturally incompetent others to come into our community and start their idea of what they think a breastfeeding support group should look like (see a.) but we cannot start our own support groups that are culturally specific and proven effective? But those who oppose this 'racist' approach, mean well. (Made some calls to state leadership- and a private vow not to work with these organizations in the future)<br />
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scenario c) Sat in Uzazi Village while I endured the visit of two researchers from the local university who had been paid thousands of dollars to do a survey on why our local hospitals are not yet Baby-Friendly and what breastfeeding barriers were posed to first time mothers. Lord help me. I patiently explained that with the thousands that were being spent to compile yet another useless report, I could have served hundreds, literally hundreds of childbearing families in my community. Of course, as the researchers explained it, they meant well... (Just scratched my head in frustration).<br />
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From now on folks, lets DO WELL not just mean well.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-87365865397618512302014-10-11T06:16:00.001-07:002014-10-11T06:16:09.529-07:00Silenced No MoreLast night, both myself and my post were removed from a group for lactation consultants and breastfeeding educators. I was removed for being disruptive force in the group and making group members uncomfortable with my subject matter: Black infant mortality as it relates to breastfeeding. I had stated that I would post the entire conversation on this blog. I will not. That would be unethical. As a wise person pointed out, doing so would be petty and unprofessional. I strive to set a better example. What I will do is state emphatically I WILL NOT BE SILENCED. And neither should you. This is how inequities come about and persist. Dominant culture people who refuse to see what is in front of them. Who refuse to listen, hear, or engage the conversation. But the problem can also be perpetuated by those who offend. I don't want to offend when my message is rejected. I want to move on and engage the next person, hoping they will listen, hear, engage. This entire experience has been evidence to me that we need more lactation consultants of color. Yes, I've been saying that for a long time, but now it feels more urgent. When I submitted my grant application yesterday, I recalled having to amend my program idea, because there are not enough LCs of color around the country to help their own communities. This morning all I think of is that woman from the group going into an African-American client's room today with the thought of 'those colored babies' in her head. That is not the kind of help our mothers need. If you are a Black woman and you want to become a lactation professional (of any kind), please stay on the path. If you are a true ally, I ask you, no I implore you, please help a woman of color in your vicinity. We cannot leave our breastfeeding mothers to people who think of them in such a manner that was expressed to me in that group last night. Yesterday I received a response from IBCLE. I was not selected as a board member, however, I was offered another opportunity to have input in diversifying the ranks of LCs. I will continue to do what I can, and what I must to see that African-American breastfeeding mothers aren't left stranded with the type of "assistance" some people are offering. Let us rise up and be silenced no more.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-56673398888897253122014-09-28T14:21:00.000-07:002014-09-28T14:21:54.390-07:00Recap on Walk for Black Infant Mortality AwarenessThese will be my final thoughts on the Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness, and my lessons learned from the experience. First and foremost I want to thank a few folks:<br />
Our walk sponsors:<br />
<ul>
<li>Ergo Baby</li>
<li>Jennie Joseph and the JJ Way</li>
<li>Home State Health Plans</li>
</ul>
Other donors who donated to cover walk expenses:<br />
<ul>
<li>Andrea Dixon (funds to rent RV)</li>
<li>shoes for walk (Yolanda Fortin and Tasha Reed)</li>
<li>Logo and T-shirts (Corey and Racquel Hykes)</li>
<li>Misfit Wearable Shines (fitness/mileage tracker)</li>
</ul>
Human Resources:<br />
<ul>
<li>Team members who helped plan and execute the walk (Janet and Julie)</li>
<li>Host families who sheltered us in the storm (and in fair weather)</li>
<li>Guest walkers who shared part of the time on the road (Rebecca and Marijke)</li>
<li>Folks who set up speaking gigs, radio, and newspaper interviews (Janet and Elizabeth)</li>
<li>My Council of Elders who supported this walk (Tasha, Noriah, Rebecca, Bryan and Sharese)</li>
<li>Uzazi Village staff who held it down while I was away (Mariah and Charlene)</li>
<li>All those who watched, waited, and read along on the journey</li>
<li>Those who planned and attended the Improving Birth Rally that kicked off the Walk</li>
</ul>
End results of the walk:<br />
When all was said and done, I walked 61 miles over six days and raised, $3,720 toward Uzazi Village operations and programming. Which mean $1,860 for programing (50%), $1,116 (30%) for operations, and $186.00 (5%) each donated to ICTC and National Association of Birth Centers of Color. The remaining $372 (10%) covered fundraising fees for paypal and causevox. Thank you to all those who donated to make this fundraiser a success. From sponsors and other donors we collected $2, 300 to cover walk expenses which included RV rental, food, gas, and motel costs.<br />
<br />
My Experience:<br />
The walk was an amazing experience for me. I walked alone for hours on end for days at a time. That was a true gift. I was beautiful beyond words out on the trail and I got to soak it all in. I'm so grateful to have had that experience. Someone asked me if I ever felt unsafe alone out on the trail. I have to admit it took a couple of days to get used to. City folk like me are used to always having people around and really didn't think the trail would be THAT empty of people. Now that I've done it and look back on it, I'm really proud of what I accomplished. I challenged myself physically. I did increase awareness of the issue, and started some dialog both in Missouri and around the nation. Its just a pittance when so much needs to change. In order to keep the conversationa and awareness going, I've decided to do the walk again next year, and allow others to walk in thier own states to bring awareness and invite dialog which I hope will lead to action. Thank you to all of you who supported my efforts and followed my walk. I will be keeping the walk page open and will reset it for next September so that I can share as the plans for a multi-state walk take shape. This will be no small task as I enter into a CPM preceptorship and a PhD program. Your continued prayers and well wishes are most welcomed.<br />
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Lessons Learned:<br />
<ul>
<li>Say what you mean, and mean what you say.</li>
<li>The only way things will change will be if we change them.</li>
<li>Listen to the body and care for its needs.</li>
<li>Always bring enough to share.</li>
<li>Fear is in the mind, courage is in the action.</li>
</ul>
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Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4092317326958801500.post-90878127558123715632014-09-24T18:41:00.002-07:002014-09-24T18:41:52.053-07:00With Friends Like These...So remember the movie "The Help"? There's a running joke all through the movie. The event that the ladies' group was putting on was raising funds to help the 'poor little starving colored children in Africa'- the joke of course being that they were busy throughout the movie, mightily oppressing the 'poor little starving colored children in America' and their parents.<br />
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Why do I bring up the situation proposed in that movie? I often feel stuck in the same kind of scene. The people in the position to render me a good turn, are often the same people I need to lend the most forbearance. I call them 'allies'. I define allies as 'those who do not self-identify as a person of color, but who demonstrate commitment to communities of color and decreasing health disparities within them.' Notice I use the term 'demonstrate' and not 'talk a good game'. This is a touchy subject but I feel driven to write about it. There are days when my 'allies' tax me more than anyone under the sun. Too many allies credit themselves with too much knowledge about my culture, my community, my cause, etc. Often, very often, they don't know nearly as much as they think they do. <br />
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I'm not saying allies aren't good people, but if they don't maintain humility and a learner's heart, they become quite burdensome to me and to the goals I'm trying to accomplish. There can be a long learning curve for systemic racism and white privilege. It can't be assimilated and understood overnight. Especially since it becomes so intertwined in how we view the world. It can take a really long time to unpack all that privilege. In the meantime, you just have to trust me when I ask you to stand down. <br />
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Allies often confuse 'helping' with 'leading'. I witness this confusion on a daily basis. Dominant culture women are just not used to following women of color. It doesn't fit well and feels ackward. It's one thing to use your privilege to uplift and illuminate a woman of color and her works. Its quite another to stand down and walk behind her, and support her in that way. Often allies think their task is 'to come alongside'. It is not. Your task is to follow in a supportive role until such time you are invited to 'come alongside'. You may never be asked to 'come alongside' and if that is the case, you must be content to follow. "But I'm only trying to help!" is often the distressed cry I receive when I point this out. "No," I state patiently, "You are only trying to lead- which is what you have been taught to do."<br />
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How do allies rid themselves of the 'Saviour Complex' they are enculturated to embrace? It will take some work. Recently at Uzazi Village, I did a little social experiment during an event being held at our facility. Prior to serving the food, I announced that our special guests of honor would go through the buffet first. I then announced that those special guests were the women of color in attendance. The dominant culture women stepped aside as the women of color made their way through the food line. Later in the evening, I invited the dominant culture women to recall another time when they had to 'give way' to a woman of color, because she was a woman of color. I invite those reading this blog to reflect upon that question as well and share their thoughts.<br />
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Why am I bringing this up? Because my allies are only helpful in proportion to their awareness and humility. I need my allies to step up and stop being oblivious to their own privilege. I don't need you to 'come alongside', I need you to be willing to follow. And please don't come to 'save me'. I am saving myself. I might need your help, but I don't need you to take over. I know this is difficult to hear, because it is difficult to say, but it needs to be said. I cannot work with so-called allies who do not understand these truths. You cannot lead in my community- even if no one else has stepped forward to do the work; even if you have looked and can't find woman of color leaders; even if there are no people of color who are qualified (in your opinion); even if, even if, even if. You cannot lead in my community; you don't know enough, to know what you do not know.<br />
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Disparities pimping is a wide spread practice. Our communities are already preyed upon by well meaning do gooders who support their middle class lifestyles by drawing a paycheck off 'serving' the poor including folks of color. The poor never get less 'poorer' but the workers manage to maintain their middle class lifestyles. When the grants are dried up, those people and their programs are gone as well. There is a grave lack of trust of those who encroach on our communities in the name of 'fixing' us. Please allies be aware and beware.<br />
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The fight for health equity needs soldiers, but the general slots are already spoken for.Hakima Tafunzi Paynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766702314998159529noreply@blogger.com2