Bring me that horizon

As 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.
Professional Goals
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
7) Scouting out properties for the next phase of our growth; the midwifery school and birth center.
Personal Goals
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.
9) I plan to clear some psychological and physical space by completing a divorce process this year.
10) Plan to continue therapy- its going great and I love the process.
11) Working on a plan toward home ownership.
12) Making my home a center of community life and activity and hospitality.
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."

Lessons from the Road

It has been a few weeks since the Black Infant Mortality Awareness Roadtrip and I promised to write about it.  These are my ‘lessons from the road’.  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.  I interviewed midwives, doulas, lactation consultants, and breastfeeding educators.  The Black women I interviewed were well credentialed or had none at all.  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.  What they had in common was their commitment to address health disparities in maternity care through their own particular area of expertise.  I will not discuss the interviews themselves or the women in them here, that is for another time and purpose.  What this essay concerns itself with is my lessons learned from this awesome experience.  Thank you to Elephant Circle, Praeclarus Press, Center for Social Inclusion and Uzazi Village for financing this trip.  It was a blessing to meet every person we spoke with and their stories carry much weight and value to me.  Special thanks to my companion on the trip, Jolina Simpson, who was the perfect Thelma to my Louise.  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.  We met the most amazing women, women who are really doing the work.  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.  This is what I learned. 

Lesson 1

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.  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.  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.  We must unearth them, decipher them, and put them on again. That is our salvation, not anything that dominant culture has to offer.

Lesson 2

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.  This too is a lie. We cannot give from an empty cup.  As I write this, I am here, in central Missouri, at an event I am hosting for Black Birth Workers, called, The Gathering.  We are taking a week, to walk in nature, to eat nutritious food, to hear the sound of our own voices.  We must make this a daily discipline.  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.  Do your yoga or take your walk, FIRST, not if you happen to have time in your day left over.  Have that cup of coffee or tea that you love FIRST, not after the children have been tended and are out the door.  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.  We give too much.  We do too much.  We cannot continue at this pace and be effective for long.  We will burn ourselves out.  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.

Lesson 3

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.  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.  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.  Someone else will step forward to shoulder the burden, and if they don’t, it will still be okay.  Make your lives manageable and livable.  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.  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.

Lesson 4

Black women reap little but sow much.  If you want to get a lot done with little resources, ask a Black woman to do it.  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.  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.  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.  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.

Lesson 5

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’.  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.  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.  We are not organisms for them to study under a microscope.  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.

Lesson 6

White opposition is real, and most often comes in subtle forms from those who call themselves our allies.  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.  It doesn’t matter how long they’ve worked with ‘this population’. This isn’t a ‘population’ to you.  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.  Consider the cost. Whatever you do, don’t let them hold the purse strings to your efforts.  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.  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.  I too often saw so-called allies and ally organizations oppose Black leadership, Black collective action, and impede Black progress.  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.

Conclusions

What are my conclusions from the observed lessons of this trip? Health disparities aren’t an accident.  They are a reflection of American’s disdain for African-Americans.  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.  We must be our own solution.  We must start our own, and do it ourselves. Start from scratch.  Start from nothing if you must, but start.  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.  We must return to collective action, collective caring, and collective living.  What we cannot do alone, we can do together. We can make our lives better, improve our health and wellbeing; physical, mental, and spiritual.  This we must do for ourselves

Your Equity Committee Ain't Shit

I'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:  http://kcur.org/post/maternal-death-rate   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.
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?
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)
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.
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.

Stories Wrung from Bone

There 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" 

I seriously need an all black retreat! #wilderness #noelectricity #Africansonly #ancestorworship #feedmysoul #ancestorscalling

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.

Lessons Learned

Greetings 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.

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:

• 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. 
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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. 
• 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.

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.

In the Space that Silence Holds

I 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. 

• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.  
  

Walk for Black Infant Mortality Awareness- Walk Locally, Demand Vocally

OK, 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. 

Final Blog Post of 2016

Dear Village,
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.

MIDWIFE X

Today 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.








BLACK WOMEN'S MATERNITY CARE MANIFESTO








Number One: (to Black women)
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.








Number Two: (to Black people)
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.




Number Three: (to white careproviders)
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.




Number Four: (to white people)
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.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  


Number Five: (to the Black community)
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.

The Colonization of Black Birthing Bodies

I 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. 
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. 
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.
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? 
I think it may be- when we create our own.

What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate

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:


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?


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.  

The Other Side of Adoption

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.
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.

The Reluctant Revolutionary

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.
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.
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.

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.
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.
Donate here: www.uzazivillage.com

Dear 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.
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:

• 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).
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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). 

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. 
In solidarity




Dear Readers,
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. 

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.

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 totally okay with black people and I certainly wasn’t a racist. I knew all too well what racists were and I wasn’t that!

“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!

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 that 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.

“The black women I see at the clinic where I work don’t really want to breastfeed, anyway. “

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.

            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?

            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 breastfeeding superstar 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.

            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 get out of the way and let them tell their own story – and, when invited, to amplify their messages, to let women of color stand up on my shoulders.

            My shoulders.

            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.

            It was – and continues to be – because I was raised to question authority and to exercise my own. My own authority. 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.

            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.

            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.

           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.

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 keep listening 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.