Lauren Y. Casteel — Denver Foundation / Inclusiveness Project
January 16, 2012

It is a pleasure to be in Boulder. When I first moved from the concrete canyons of New York to the majestic mountains of Colorado in 1974, I lived in Boulder for one year. I remember asking for directions to the bus on Bas-el-ine Street. At least three people looked at me and shrugged before some kind individual translated that what I meant was Base-line. It was my first experience in what would be a year of cross-cultural learning for me – on many levels. I worked at Fashion Bar in Crossroads Shopping Center and then on a line that punched computer cards at Storage Tech. I ate my first pickled cactus and learned to chew tobacco (more boorish than Boulderish). I tried to ski (badly) and made it to the magnificent vistas of Chasm Lake.

While it was during the era that Penfield Tate was Boulder’s first black Mayor, it was not long after the highly-esteemed, and only Latino, Colorado Supreme Court Chief Justice, Luis Rovira – as a young attorney – filed a lawsuit that forced Boulder barbers to cut the hair of blacks. Years later, I would participate in a leadership development program entitled Women of Color Warriors of Light, organized by Malaika Pettigrew and the United Black Women of Boulder Valley. Similarly, I have been honored to learn from the wisdom of: The Denver Foundation’s former Board Chair – Rich Lopez, M.L. Roble, Brenda Lyle, Carly Hare, Kirsten Wilson, Daniel Escalante, Josie Heath, Senator Mark Udall, and dozens of nonprofit, community, and resident leaders of Boulder.

It is in that spirit of learning and the dynamics of change that I thank the 2012 Boulder Martin Luther King Celebration Committee and all of your sponsors for the opportunity to join you briefly as you use the arts to launch One Action – One Boulder / Niwot’s Arrow.

I spent the first six years of my life from 1954-1960 living in the segregated south. As a child growing up in a completely self-contained black neighborhood of Atlanta, I am not using hyperbole when I say that I have no memory of seeing a white person. And, if I did, I never spoke to them. At the same time, as a small Georgia girl, I had a constant visceral sense of imminent change within the confines of my secure community.

In 1961, we moved to New Rochelle, New York, which was the location for one of the early school defacto segregation cases. I was now the only student of any color, and one of the few non-Jewish, in my elementary school. I attended the progressive Unitarian Universalist Church with my family, and occasionally, synagogue Saturday school with my new friends.

My father, Whitney Moore Young, Jr., served as Executive Director of the National Urban League from 1961 until 197, when he drowned off the coast of Lagos while attending an America Africa Leadership program. He was considered one of the “Big Six” of the Civil Rights Movement, including Martin Luther King, Jr., Roy Wilkins, James Farmer, John Lewis, and A. Philip Randolph. Certainly, Dorothy Height, Bayard Rustin, Medgar Evers, Malcom X, Shirley Chisolm, Gordon Parks, Schwerner, Chaney and Goodman, Kenneth Clark, Thurgood Marshall, Lyndon Johnson, Freedom Riders, the Little Rock 9, and many, many others could be included. The beauty of this movement was the recognition that together, using different tools and strategies, they had collective impact.

The photograph [above] is the focus of my remarks today because it is deeply personal and a 20-minute time limit won’t allow me to go beyond the thoughts that it evokes for me. This amazing still was taken on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial as Marion Anderson sings the National Anthem for the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. My father, Whitney Moore Young, Jr., is standing to the left of Martin Luther King, Jr. – just prior to his delivery of the “I Have A Dream” speech. The AFL-CIO’s Walter Reuther is to the right. Imagine, for just a moment, the view that is before them as they look toward the Washington Memorial. Imagine the power of the throngs of Americans of all variety of races, ethnicities, creeds, genders, religions, abilities, and sexual orientations, gathered against all odds for a single nonviolent purpose of equity and social justice. Imagine, for some, the challenge of pledging allegiance to a country that had enslaved and subjugated generations of your family.

I was 10 when this photograph was taken and already there was a clear message with which my father inoculated me. That message was, “NEVER confuse symbols for substance.” He was very clear that symbols have power to capture the essence of a concept or to initiate action. But, symbols are only the beginning.

This photograph captures a moment symbolic of hope, promise, and opportunity – just as Martin Luther King Day is an annual symbol of our hope that the goals of the Civil Rights movement (or what Dr. Vincent Harding of Veterans of Hope, calls the “Black-led Expansion of Democracy”) are being achieved and that the legacy does live. Just as images of President Obama’s election sparked off the erroneous concept of a “post-racial society” or photos of Justice Sonia Sotomayer, in her black robe after her appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court, may be misperceived as the arrival of all Latinas to the seat of justice.

As I look out at today’s gathering, I am struck by the importance of the symbolism of today’s festivities. Celebration energizes and sustains us for the journey ahead. You are a beautifully diverse crowd reflecting the many threads that weave together to create the fabric of Boulder. Similarly, I have enjoyed the hearing and dancing to the many beats that are your pulse.

But, these could be mere symbols if we leave today without more than a resolution to One Action/One Boulder. Unlike a New Year’s list, we must make deep, long-term and sustainable commitment to individual personal transformation and collective inclusive impact within your businesses, nonprofits, social and political systems.

If we really want to honor Martin Luther King’s poignant dream, we must also do as my father spoke on those same steps at the Lincoln Memorial some 49 years ago.

We must:

“…march from a present feeling of hopelessness, despair, and frustration to renewed faith and confidence due to tangible programs and visible changes made possible by walking together: to the PTA meetings, to the libraries, to the decision-making meetings, to the schools and colleges, to the adult education centers for all age groups, and to the voter registration booths.

The hour is late. The gap is widening. The rumbling of the drums of discontent, resounding throughout this land, are heard in all parts of the world. The missions which we send there, to “keep the world safe for democracy,” are shallow symbols unless with them goes living testament that this country practices at home the doctrine which it seeks to promote abroad.”

My father called for action known as the Domestic Marshall Plan, which became the precursor to affirmative action and the War on Poverty.

My father was also known to say that he cared less about the guilt that some people may feel, or the blame that others may aim, and more about what they do. Our feelings are symbolic symptoms of the need to take substantive action to ensure the expansion of democracy for all.

However, I must be honest when I say that much of the substance of what is happening in our country and local communities today fills me with sadness. My father’s words at the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom still hold true. The hour is even later and the gap has widened. For example:

It has been 6 ½ years since we first saw the images of Hurricane Katrina and the pain that was further exacerbated by then-President Bush’s inadequate attempts to acknowledge the people of this vibrant American city. Today, New Orleans continues to struggle, albeit with a resilient heart, with massive personal suffering, economic devastation, and physical blight. In those days when the storm raged and the levees broke, national media showed images of displaced poor people of color and referred to them as “refugees.” Americans looked at one of our own richly historic cities and compared it to Port Au Price, Haiti. A comparison made all too visible just four short years later, when an earthquake toppled that nation.

When did we stop recognizing and claiming our own citizens? When land was taken from native people, perhaps? On the slave blocks? Or, when we interred Japanese Americans? The reality is that there are many marginalized and disenfranchised American people we failed to recognize or claim. And, for that, we all suffer because we are denied the richness of our collective experience and impact.

It is close to only 50 years since the photo was taken of my father and Martin Luther King, Jr. (Interestingly, neither of them lived to be 50.) And, even then, there was a certain palpable tension you can feel as they stand in allegiance to an America for which they had both love and deep concern. They knew that unless we fully embraced rights and opportunities for recognition of our most vulnerable communities, that we would never see the true greatness of America fulfilled.

We were lulled into a certain social stupor during the opulence and symbolic conspicuous consumption of the 1990s. Katrina shocked us back into a horrifying reality.

On January 6, 2012 CNN reported that the black unemployment rate has been roughly double that of whites since the government started tracking the figures in 1972. Needless to say, according to a 2011 report by Pew Research, both the collapse of the housing market (predatory lending anyone?) and the recession hit communities of color disproportionately hard.

Lastly, in response to Chris Rock’s satirical routine about running from Martin Luther King Boulevard, a graduate student at the University of Northern Texas did a research project and film about the 730 Martin Luther King Boulevards across the country. What he found is that while many are living expressions of possibility with recreation or parks associated with them or are located in diverse neighborhoods, these streets are also disproportionately asphalt symbols of what Langston Hughes called “dreams deferred” in neighborhoods where residents average lower incomes or higher percentages of single mothers with children.

Yes, I am proud that Whitney Young is the name on the front of the high school where First Lady Michelle Obama graduated in Chicago, but what happens inside of the building is more tangible than the name on the front.

Similarly, here in our metro area, we are in the midst of our own invisible Katrina. Our education, economic, and judicial tides are creating an undertow that is drowning an entire generation of young people of color. Rhonda Tsoi-A-Fatt, Senior Policy analyst for the Center for Law and Policy, and the author of “We Dream a World: The 2025 Vision for Black Men and Boys,” describes the multiple collisions of challenges creating negative outcomes for black men specifically, but her words are applicable to various races and ethnicities and certainly those that are further marginalized by immigration status, language, different abilities, felony or marital status, or gender or gender expressions expressions.

According to Tsoi-A-Fatt, “the precarious situation of our Nation’s black men and boys is due to a complex intersection of race, class, historic structural/institutional racism, personal responsibility, and lack of equal or equitable access to opportunity.”

What are the local facts underscoring these disparities?

The “2011 Colorado KidsCount Report” (a joint effort between the Colorado Children’s Campaign and the Annie E. Casey Foundation) found the following:

• 79% of whites, and 53% of black K-12 students are proficient in reading
• 65% of white, and 37% of Hispanic K-12 students are proficient in math
• 24% of whites, 14% of blacks, and 8% of Hispanics are college graduates
• Black students are 5.9% of Colorado’s K-12 student population, but 12.7% of discipline referrals (These are all appalling numbers, but 8% – is that acceptable to anyone?)
• Black students are 5.9% of Colorado’s K-12 student population, but 12.7% of discipline referrals

It is for these reasons that The Denver Foundation’s new strategic plan will focus on basic human needs, education and economic opportunity for those who are most vulnerable. As the mother of two young black men and one young woman, as well as the grandmother of three black/Navajo boys, I want to weep as I review the data. I do that and go to work.

Colorado’s Padres Unidos reported that in the 2009-2010 school year there were 732 Latino college graduates, but 3,285 Latino K-12 students were referred to the police, joining what is known as the “school-to-jail pipeline.” There are similar comparables for black and American Indian students. This pipeline is just one of the factors including historic unequal application of drug laws that contribute to what Michelle Alexander’s well-documented book, The New Jim Crow, calls “mass incarceration.” At the Colorado state level, within the City and County of Denver, and nationally, there are community-judicial conversations about policies and practices affecting racial and ethnic over-representation in our criminal justice system and the consequences. I hope Boulder is doing the same.

The substantive cracks in our communities call us all to action. Early in these remarks, I mentioned a number of names. Some are national icons or local heroes. However, among us are many who are consistently showing up in the world of social justice in quiet and effective ways. Even if we refer to the photograph again, there is a face that is missing, but without whom there never would have been a March on Washington. How many of you are familiar with the name Bayard Rustin? Bayard was an out-gay black man who was the chief organizer of the March on Washington and worked in partnership with A. Philip Randolph, the black labor leader, who conceptualized that historic day. I like to think that today, Bayard’s sexual orientation does not minimize his recognition.

So, what can you do as individuals, organizations, neighborhoods, or systems to have collective impact to honor the dream and have a living legacy to all of those who marched for the expansion of democracy?

The One Action/One Boulder literature enthusiastically encourages the community to celebrate and learn through AMAZING arts and action opportunities. They will send you specific suggestions throughout the year. I hope you will find your place to take action and aim with “Niwot’s Arrow.” A few gentle additional thoughts to consider:

• Talk openly and clearly about race and other forms of diversity. It is important to see different assets and hear different perspectives. Research published in Psychological Science found that color-blindness is ineffective.

  For the past decade, I have been honored to help lead The Denver Foundation’s ongoing commitment to the core values of Inclusiveness and Equity. The Inclusiveness Project, which received the Council on Foundation’s 2009 Critical Impact Award, has a mission of “engaging Metro Denver nonprofits, including funders, to become more inclusive of people of color.” To us, Diversity is the face of a group, while Inclusiveness is about racial equity and involvement. Our very collaborative work cuts across individual, organizational, and sector-wide transformation because we believe that there are mission, demographic, business, and equity imperatives. To learn more about our research, programs, strategies, and resources, or to engage in peer dialogues, please go to The Denver Foundation’s website or www.nonprofitinclusiveness.org or call Adrienne Mansanares, the project manager.

  In 2011, we sponsored community conversations with Michelle Alexander (New Jim Crow) and Dr. Rose Brewer (Color of Wealth). On April 30, 2012 , nationally renowned dr. john powell of the Kirwan Institute, will do a public presentation on the psychology of racism. We would love to have you join us. We cannot succeed alone.

• Set clear goals. Personally, with all due respect to Rodney King, I don’t think a goal of “getting along” will move us further down the continuum toward an anti-racist society;
• Commit to the long-term;
• Do the personal work that is necessary to get through the difficult times, which for some may mean confronting internalized racism, and for others, learning about the work of Peggy McIntosh or Tim Wise around white privilege – facilitated discussion can be important vehicles for diverse or same-race groups;
• Don’t ever ask a single individual to represent “their people” as you perceive them; “The Bridge Poem” by Kate Rushin captures powerfully the impact of this phenomena;
• Look up the 2012 “State of the Dream” report on the Emerging Majority by United for a Fair Economy;
• Read Colorado first Lady, Helen Thorpe’s book, Just Like Us
• Show up, pay attention, and tell the truth. At the same time, listen;
• Learn from and hold up programs that are doing the work: Boulder County AIDS Project is a member of our Inclusiveness Project Grantee Learning Community; did you know that the largest growing population affected by HIV/AIDS is straight women of color?
• The YWCA of Boulder County took leadership around anti-racism years ago;
• Volunteer with Reading to End Racism;
• Explore national models. Seattle city government has developed a comprehensive Race and Social Justice Initiative;
• I heard recently about a Boulder Paint the Street Project in neighborhoods to plant the seed of dialogue about difficult issues. Check out the City website to learn more;
• See the soon-to-be released film “Red Tails” about the Tuskegee airmen. Then ask what happened to these brave black soldiers who returned from World War II to Jim Crow America;
• Read Melisa Harris-Perry’s Sister Citizen;
• Speak up when you see an injustice or hear an inappropriate joke. Taking the risk of giving voice as an ally is powerful. We are not responsible for our brothers and sisters, but we need to be responsible to them.
• Review behavior, policy, and practice through an equity, power, access, and privilege lens. Collaborate across disciplines; education, economic opportunity, housing, and health are all connected to each other as well as to race and place.
• Don’t use the excuse that we don’t have time to do this work. It is the work. Time and resources must be applied to ensure our collective future success.
• And, lastly…some principles and values for developing inclusive practices from both our Strengthening Neighborhoods resident-led projects and the Inclusiveness Project: Build relationships and partnerships that lead to an open culture of trust and learning. Understand that there is a continuum of success. Celebrate along the way. Be patient, courageous, and flexible.

At my father’s grave site, there is a lovely wooden bench beneath a shade tree next to a low stone wall. And, on that wall, is a bronze plaque with one of my father’s quotes, which has guided my life. With apologies for its lack of gender or age neutrality, it reads: “Every man is our brother, and every man’s burden is our own. Where poverty exists, all are poorer. Where hate flourishes, all are corrupted. Where injustice reigns, all are unequal.”

What image better represents America’s “mountains’ majesty” than the Flatirons of Boulder? Claim the power and energy of that symbolic imagery and translate it into majestic and substantive movement forward as a living legacy to Martin Luther King and all of those who stood or sat, spoke or listened, wept or cheered, on the steps, behind the steps, and in front of the steps, as well as those who keep stepping. The March for Jobs and Freedom has not yet arrived at its destination. Today, we renew our faith and confidence.

Thank you.