To eradicate health care disparities, the Supreme Court needs enforcement

—Dayna Bowen Matthew

matthewIn the long-awaited King v. Burwell ruling last month, the Supreme Court took a major step forward in the fight to eradicate the racial and ethnic health disparities that result in the loss of over 83,000 black and brown lives in America each year. But just as the Court’s groundbreaking Brown v. Board of Education decision was not enough to guarantee equal educational opportunity for minorities in 1959, the Supreme Court’s ruling alone cannot ensure equality in American health care today.

King v. Burwell hinged on the decision to uphold tax subsidies for those who purchased coverage through the Affordable Care Act (ACA).  By affirming the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act’s tax credits for individuals with household incomes between 100% and 400% of the federal poverty line, the Court’s ruling preserved the economic support that many low income families (by some estimates, over 26 million Americans) rely on to buy health insurance and access health care.

Beyond preserving the Act’s economic support, King v. Burwell also protected the Affordable Care Act’s nondiscrimination provisions. Section 1557 of the ACA is the first-ever civil rights provision to specifically prohibit discrimination in the health care industry. This statute could represent a turning point—a veritable Gettysburg—in the fight against racial and ethnic health disparities. But only if the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) makes full use of it.

Section 1557 breathes new life into Title VI of the Civil Rights Act and could be enforced to prohibit discrimination in health care based on race, color, or national origin. Thus far, the DHHS has applied Section 1557 successfully to combat sex discrimination in health care—important in its use to protect transgender patients, and ensure that providers treat men and women equitably in the context of hospital emergency departments. DHHS has also employed Section 1557 to win a number of significant agreements requiring providers across the country to ensure language access for persons with limited English proficiency. But HHS can, and must, go further.

The Department of Health and Human Services must use Section 1557 to challenge the well-documented discriminatory treatment practices that deny minority patients access to medical care for heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and a wide range of other illnesses. Section 1557 has yet to be leveraged to curb rampant discriminatory patient admission and transfer practices; differential pricing and prescribing of specialty drugs used to treat chronic diseases that disproportionately affect minority patients; gross under-representation of minorities in research clinical trials; or the shocking lack of diversity in the medical workforce, all of which are persistent contributors to disparate health outcomes for racial and ethnic minorities.

The deadly, disparate impact of these and other discriminatory practices can and should be the focus of new investigations and enforcement activities. Only then will we ensure an end to the legacy of inequality in America’s health care system.

Dayna Bowen Matthew is Professor at University of Colorado Law School and the Colorado School of Public Health. She serves on the faculty of the University of Colorado Center for Bioethics and Humanities, and she is co-founder of the Colorado Health Equity Project, a medical legal partnership whose mission is to remove barriers to good health for low-income clients. She is the author of Just Medicine: A Cure for Racial Inequality in American Health Care (NYU Press, 2015).

Obama and the N-word

—Andra Gillespie

The president said the N-word, and it became a top news story.

Now, it wasn’t the first time a president said the word — recordings exist in which Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon use the term artfully and prolifically.

However, it was the first time in recent memory that we know that a president used the term and meant to be heard saying it publicly. And, of course, it is not lost on audiences that said president is black.

Since I am someone who studies how black politicians born after 1960 advocate for African American interests, this story definitely piqued my interest.

What does it mean for any president, much less a black one who used race-neutral campaign tactics, to use such a word?

And is our attention on this story a distraction, especially in light of real racial issues, like police brutality and the recent hate crime in Charleston?

A proper use of language

I think people are making a bigger deal about President Obama’s use of this word than is necessary.

Yes, it is rarely heard in polite company. But if one has to use the word, the way in which President Obama deployed it was entirely proper.

He was not using it as part of his Chris Rock or Richard Pryor impression. He was not calling out any person or group of people. He used the term in the context of talking about people who say that word.

And frankly, by using the actual word instead of resorting to the contrivance of saying “the N-word,” he was rhetorically effective.

The problem is our collective American tendency to be superficial.

When President Obama invoked the N-word, he was making an important point about structural racism and our moral responsibility to be vigilant against all remaining forms of racial discrimination.

He rightly pointed out that some people think that refraining from the use of racial slurs is the sum of eliminating racism.

He rightfully observed that removing those words from one’s vocabulary is but a small part of promoting racial equality.

Yes, we should modify our language to be respectful of all people, but one can racially profile, deny jobs, housing and equal pay, and provide substandard schooling to minorities without calling them a racial slur. Frankly, these things are materially more important.

In his own way, President Obama was trying to shock Americans into thinking more critically about racial issues.

Starting a conversation about race

There is a tendency in this country to avoid serious conversations about race.

We’d rather relegate racism to the 1950s or contend that it is a province of backwards southerners.

Then, when we are confronted with the facts of continuing inequality — like the fact that in New York, black and Latino youth were more likely to be stopped and frisked by the police without cause or that last year, the Pew Research Center found that median white net worth was 13 times the median net worth of blacks — we look for every other possible explanation and refuse to confront the ways that racism explains a lot of the disparity.

Americans’ tendency to not address an obvious cause of so much inequality and strife dooms us to repeat the same cycle of racial conflict and even violence over and over again.

Some people might argue that by resurrecting such a hurtful word, President Obama was creating another smokescreen for racial issues.

Instead of talking about healing Charleston, for instance, news programs are devoting airtime to deconstructing the president’s use of this word.

Just one of the many media dissections of the president’s language.

Hopefully, though, the president’s deployment of this term (and his larger argument for having deeper discussions about how to reduce racial inequality) will sink in because of the shock of having him speak so bluntly about the issue.

If by next week, we are talking about actual structural inequality and not about the fact that President Obama said the N-word (to be clear, the current debate about the Confederate flag is an important one but a symbolic issue), then perhaps we can give him credit for having started a meaningful dialogue about race.

Andra Gillespie is Associate Professor of Political Science at Emory University and author of The New Black Politician: Cory Booker, Newark, and Post-Racial America (NYU Press, 2012).

[This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.]

Community organizing to end the school-to-jail track

—Ben Kirshner and Ricardo Martinez

The Black Lives Matter movement has galvanized people throughout the US to speak up about systemic racism and the devastating impact of mass incarceration on communities of color. Civil disobedience and mass protest since Ferguson have generated needed media attention to the persistence of American racism. What the national media often overlooks, however, has been the last decade of tireless organizing by students, parents, and community organizers to dismantle the school-to-jail track inside K-12 schools.

PJU-report2015According to the Advancement Project, the school-to-jail track refers to a system in which “out-of-school suspensions, expulsions, and school-based arrests are increasingly used to deal with student misbehavior, especially for minor incidents, and huge numbers of children and youth are pushed out of school and into the juvenile and criminal justice systems.” This system became the new normal in the mid-1990s as zero tolerance school policies spread throughout the United States. The impact landed disproportionately on youth of color, mostly African American and Latino. A report by the Annie E. Casey Foundation, for example, found that African American youth were six times and Latino youth three times more likely than White youth to be incarcerated for the same offenses.

Padres & Jóvenes Unidos (PJU), a multigenerational and multiracial community organizing group based in the southwest side of Denver, Colorado, became involved in this issue when they saw their membership facing increased criminalization in schools. Since launching its End the School-to-Jail Track campaign in 2005, PJU has seen several of its goals met, including revisions to the Denver Public Schools disciplinary code, passage of a Colorado state law about school safety, and new agreements between police and school districts reducing police presence. New research carried out by PJU is a resource to hold state policymakers accountable for proper implementation. Young people of color have worked on the front lines of this campaign in various capacities—tackling problem analysis, formulating strategy, recruiting members, collecting data, speaking at public events, and communicating with media. The intergenerational structure of Padres & Jóvenes Unidos creates a space where middle and high school students often work side-by-side with young adults and veteran organizers to prepare for meetings and clarify strategy.

PJU’s impact is not limited to its policy achievements, but also in what it means for civic renewal and grassroots democracy. In a social and political context where the participation of regular people—not specialists or lobbyists—in public policy-making is rare, and youth participation is even rarer, the End the School-to-Jail Track campaign offers a bright exception. Students’ experience of engaging in high-stakes encounters with policy makers, including praising them when called for and voicing criticism when necessary, contributes to a culture shift, even if incremental, in which young people are taken seriously in the public square.

2015 has been a year of increased conversation about racial discrimination in policing and the courts. In a development that would not have been possible five years ago, presidential candidates from both major parties are calling for an end to mass incarceration. As the US tries to make collective progress on this issue, it will be important to also address how schools educate and discipline youth. This means not just doing away with racist practices but creating new systems to take their place, such as restorative justice and other forms of discipline that foster healthy relationships and a sense of community in schools. This slow and steady work of institution-building is most likely to have lasting effects if led by groups such as PJU, which are made up of students and parents from the communities that experience the impact of racial profiling in their everyday lives.

Ben Kirshner is Associate Professor of Education at the University of Colorado Boulder and author of Youth Activism in an Era of Education Inequality (NYU Press, 2015).

Ricardo Martinez is Co-Executive Director of Padres & Jóvenes Unidos.

Celebrating Revolutionary Blackness: Haitian Flag Day

—Bertin M. Louis, Jr.

[This post originally appeared on Mark Anthony Neal’s blog, NewBlackMan (in Exile).]

Haitian-flag3

In communities across the globe, thousands of Haitians celebrate Haitian Flag Day every May 18 at concerts and ceremonies, on the Internet and at festivals and parades. The flag not only reflects pride in Haitian roots but it is the flag of the first black republic in the world. The Haitian flag takes on renewed meaning as an anti-racist symbol of revolutionary blackness and freedom in a continuing time of white supremacy and anti-blackness. Its inception was from the Haitian Revolution (1791-1803).

On May 18, 1803, in the city of Archaie, not far from Haiti’s current capital of Port-au-Prince, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, the leader of the blacks and the first leader of an independent Haiti, and Alexandre Pétion, the leader of the mulattoes, agreed on an official flag, with blue and red bands placed vertically. Haitian heroine Catherine Flon, who also served as a military strategist and nurse, sewed Haiti’s first flag. However, the flag was modified on Independence Day (January 1st) when the blue and the red bands were placed horizontally with the blue band on top of the red band. Haiti used the red and blue flag until 1964, when President-for life François “Papa Doc” Duvalier used a vertical black and red flag and added a modified version of the arms of the republic during the Duvalier regime, which lasted from 1971 to 1986. On February 25, 1986, after Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier fled Haiti on an American-charted jet and the Duvalier regime fell apart, the Haitian people in its vast majority requested that the red and blue flag be brought back. The red and blue flag remains the official flag of Haiti.

Haiti was the French colony of Saint-Domingue before the revolution. A 1697 treaty between the French and the Spanish created the colony on the western third of the island of Hispaniola. Saint-Domingue was known as “the pearl of the Antilles” because the industrialization of sugar in the region enriched its French absentee owners and made it one of the most successful sugar colonies in history. The arduous labor required for sugar production resulted in the virtual eradication of the indigenous Taino Arawak population and an average seven-year life span for Africans who were brought against their will. In an area roughly the size of Maryland enslaved Africans produced indigo, tobacco and at one point in history two-fifths of the world’s sugar and almost half of the world’s coffee.

Physical and psychological violence were used to maintain plantation production processes. As sociologist Alex Dupuy writes it was not uncommon for slave masters to “hang a slave by the ears, mutilate a leg, pull teeth out, gash open one’s side and pour melted lard into the incision, or mutilate genital organs. Still others used the torture of live burial, whereby the slave, in the presence of the rest of the slaves who were forced to bear witness, was made to dig his own grave…Women had their sexual parts burned by a smoldering log; others had hot wax splattered over hands, arms, and backs, or boiling cane syrup poured over their heads.” Within this violent and dehumanizing environment, many enslaved Africans resisted and fought against their captors and participated in the most radical revolution of the “Age of Revolution.”

The Haitian Revolution was more radical than the American Revolutionary war (1775-1783) and the French Revolution (1789-1799) because it challenged chattel slavery and racism, the foundation of American and French empires. As the late anthropologist Michel-Rolph Trouillot wrote: “The Haitian Revolution was the ultimate test to the universalist pretensions of both the French and the American revolutions. And they both failed. And they both failed. In 1791, there is no public debate on the record, in France, in England, or in the United States on the right of black slaves to achieve self-determination, and the right to do so by way of armed resistance.” The Haitian Revolution led to the destruction of plantation capitalism on the island where both modern-day Haiti and the Dominican Republic are located.

Through the efforts of black people and the leadership of Toussaint Louverture, British and Spanish forces were defeated and independence from the French colonial master was achieved. The only successful slave revolt in human history resulted in the formation of Haiti as the world’s first black republic, which extended the rights of liberty, brotherhood and equality to black people. Unlike the United States and France, Haiti was the first country to articulate a general principle of common, unqualified equality for all of its citizens regardless of race unlike the United States where only propertied white males had the privilege of full citizenship.

The Haitian Revolution would spawn uprisings among captive Africans throughout the Caribbean and the United States. The revolution also influenced other Western Hemispheric liberation movements. Haitian blogger Pascal Robert observes that Venezuelan military and political leader Simon Bolivar went to Haiti to receive the military assistance and material support from Haiti’s then president Alexandre Petion. Bolivar used those Haitian connections to liberate colonial territories from Spanish rule. The Haitian flag reflects and symbolizes this unique and promising moment for people of African descent – black freedom in a world dominated by white supremacy.

Haitian Flag day celebrations take on renewed meaning when we recall the recent treatment of Haitians in the Western Hemisphere. In February 2015 a young Haitian man was lynched in the Dominican Republic. This lynching occurred at a time where the Dominican state has revoked the citizenship of Haitian-descended Dominicans. Essays from sociologist Regine O. Jackson’s edited volume Geographies of the Haitian Diaspora (Routledge 2011) discusses how Haitians serve as repugnant cultural “others” in Jamaica, Guadeloupe, and Cuba. In Haiti a post-earthquake cholera outbreak introduced by Nepalese soldiers from the United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH) has claimed 9,000 Haitian lives and affected more than 735,000 people. This preventable tragedy is in addition to earthquake aid that did not go to Haitians but mostly went “to donors’ own civilian and military entities, UN agencies, international NGOs and private contractors.” A recent essay from Latin Correspondent reporter Nathalie Baptiste recognizes anti-Haitian policies in Brazil, Canada, the Dominican Republic and the United States.

While we must attend to the differences in the local histories, varying socioeconomic factors and political situations of each country mentioned, a pattern of alienation, expulsion, elimination, marginalization and stigmatization of Haitians is evident when reviewing recent news and scholarly publications.

Anti-Haitianism is also prevalent in the Bahamas where I conduct anthropological research and where a new immigration policyadversely affected Haitians. A brief anecdote that I discuss in my book My Soul Is in Haiti: Protestantism in the Haitian Diaspora of the Bahamas (NYU Press 2014)”illustrates this fact. Towards the end of ethnographic research in New Providence, I was invited by a Bahamian friend to speak about the importance of education to elementary school children at an afterschool program. The children, who all sat around me in a circle, were black. As I spoke to them about the importance of reading, studying, doing well on tests, and getting help when they encountered difficulties, one girl was struck with a look of astonishment when I mentioned that I was of Haitian descent. After my speech I took the opportunity to ask her why she was so stunned. She replied that I didn’t look Haitian to her but that I looked Bahamian. So I asked her “so what does a Haitian look like?” Replying in Bahamian Creole she and her friends replied that Haitians were “scrubby,” meaning that they have an uneven or mottled dark complexion. They also said of Haitians that “Dey (They) black,” “Dey smell bad” and “Dey look like rat.”

These comments came from children who are of African descent (85 percent of the Bahamas is black) and the darkest black-skinned Bahamian child in that group said that Haitians were “scrubby.” This story from the field reflects the current crisis in Haitian identity in the Western Hemisphere and why it is necessary to celebrate Haitian Flag day as a way to resist the dehumanizing effects of anti-blackness. Anti-blackness is a key component of white supremacy “an historically based, institutionally perpetuated system of exploitation and oppression of continents, nations, and peoples of color by white peoples and nations of the European continent, for the purpose of maintaining and defending a system of wealth, power, and privilege.” In this example, young Bahamian children do the work of white supremacy through their use of anti-Haitian and anti-Black stereotypes.

The stigmatization of Haitians in the Western Hemisphere should alarm other black people because Haitian instability also reflects the current insecurity of blacks around the globe. The deaths of West African migrants in the Mediterranean on their way to Europe, Ethiopian Jews who are encouraged to either leave Israel or be imprisoned, police brutality against blacks in favelas in Brazil, and attacks against African immigrants by black South Africans should remind us of this ongoing crisis, which many people view as normative (i.e. there’s always death and destruction among Africans and in the African Diaspora). But we do not have to look outside of the borders of the United States to understand the deprivation of the humanity of black people. The current #BlackLivesMattermovement against police killings of unarmed black people is another reminder of the disposability of black life in the modern world which continues a pattern of anti-blackness that harkens back to the transatlantic slave trade.

Anti-blackness began with the forced marches of Africans from the interiors of the continent to African coasts where they were sold as chattel and would become the engine that fueled European colonial wealth. It continued during the Middle Passage where white captains tightly packed blacks together on slave ships and threw black bodies into the Atlantic Ocean with the hope that large numbers of human cargo would offset increased deaths. Anti-blackness was codified in the colonies and territories where the legally imposed identity of slave was passed from mother to child and became associated with blackness.

Anti-blackness is prevalent during this contemporary period in the media coverage of the killings of Walter Scott and Eric Garner as corporate news channels show their video-recorded killings at the hands of American law enforcement on a loop and refer to the black youth of Baltimore rebelling against unequal treatment under the law as “thugs.” Anti-blackness is also reflected in the current relations between Haitians and the nations they live in as well as how other countries treat people of African descent.

In closing, the Haitian flag reminds us that white superiority and black inferiority are fallacies and have no basis in biology and that white supremacy can be challenged and defeated as the Haitian Revolution demonstrated. Due to the poor treatment of Haitians throughout the Western Hemisphere we should also understand why Haitians are proud of their heritage and celebrate the anniversary of their flag. But the Haitian flag is also a flag that belongs to people of African descent around the globe, as do other flags. It is one of many symbols that Haitians and other people of African descent should utilize in resistance to the dehumanizing and deadly effects of capitalism, state power and white supremacy on black bodies. Overall, Haitian Flag Day should remind all of us to celebrate revolutionary blackness and to continue to challenge white supremacy in the struggle to create dignified lives for black people worldwide.

Bertin M. Louis, Jr. is the author of My Soul Is in Haiti: Protestantism in the Haitian Diaspora of the Bahamas (NYU Press, 2014) and an Assistant Professor of Anthropology and Africana Studies at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. He is also the creator of #ShamelesslyHaitian, a Twitter event where Haitians express pride and educate others about their history and culture on Haitian Independence Day and Haitian Flag Day. Follow him on Twitter @MySoulIsInHaiti.

Clinton deserves the black vote

—F. Michael Higginbotham

[This article originally appeared in The Baltimore Sun.]

Political pundits have wondered whether Hillary Clinton will enjoy the same enthusiastic support from the African-American community in her presidential bid that President Barack Obama received. Others have wondered whether she deserves it. After her April 29th speech at Columbia University in New York City, there can be no doubt that the answer to both questions is a resounding “Yes!”

hillary-rodham-clintonIn her speech, Ms. Clinton spoke about the protest in Baltimore, expressing concern for Freddie Gray’s family, condemning the violence and calling for its immediate cessation. Most importantly, her wide-ranging discussion of the causes of the turmoil and her proposed solutions demonstrate a deep and thoughtful understanding of long standing racial inequities both in the criminal justice system and in the broader economic and political arenas throughout America.

Ms. Clinton began by recognizing that something is seriously wrong in the current relationships between police and the minority community. She is absolutely right. Relations in Baltimore have been strained for decades due to unnecessarily harsh policing practices and outright race discrimination by the police. Baltimore has paid over $6 million in court judgments and settlements in over 100 lawsuits alleging police brutality since 2011, according to The Baltimore Sun. Ms. Clinton also noted the stark racial disparities that exist in sentencing and incarceration. As Ms. Clinton declared, “African American men are still far more likely to be stopped and searched by police, charged with crimes and sentenced to longer prison terms than are meted out to their white counterparts.”

As one step for dealing with this national problem, Ms. Clinton called for body cameras on every police officer in the nation. This is an excellent start as bad relations have been exacerbated due to a lack of full and complete information on incidents or conflicting testimony where even implausible police officer accounts are accepted as truth. Body cameras are not a cure-all, but they certainly would increase the level and accuracy of information and would likely lead to more indictments and convictions of officers who commit police misconduct. It is hoped that the risk of exposure would also significantly reduce such conduct.

Ms. Clinton’s most important observation, though, was that the issues raised by the death of Freddie Gray, who died from a spinal injury received while in police custody, concern far more than police practices. She explained that a comprehensive approach is desperately needed to address long standing problems. She began by focusing on the long-term significant disparities in unemployment. As Ms. Clinton knows, unemployment among blacks in Baltimore is twice as high as that for whites and, in some neighborhoods for black youth 20-24 years of age, it is three times as high. As Ms. Clinton said, “There is something wrong when more than one out of every three young black men in Baltimore can’t find a job.” It is hardly surprising that almost a quarter of blacks in many Baltimore neighborhoods are living in poverty. Even more alarming, nationally the median net worth of whites is 18 times that of blacks, a wider wealth gap by race than existed in South Africa during apartheid. Freddie Gray’s tragedy then, requires us to finally talk about, as Ms. Clinton said, “what’s needed to provide economic opportunity, better educational chances for young people, more support to families so they can do the best jobs they are capable of doing to help support their own children.”

The speech was not, of course, the first time that Ms. Clinton has addressed issues of racial justice. Last summer, she discussed inequality in the political arena. She focused on racial inequities in voting rights, condemning restrictive voter identification laws and restrictions on early voting and same day registration. She was particularly critical of the 2013 Supreme Court decision in Shelby County v. Holder. In that case, the court invalidated the so-called “pre-clearance” requirement of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, which required states with a history of race discrimination in voting to secure federal approval prior to changing election practices. Ms. Clinton noted that the Voting Rights Act is one of the most democratizing pieces of legislation ever passed in the United States, allowing over 800,000 new voters, primarily black voters, to register within four years of its passage. She also knows how easy it is for states to create restrictive practices that have a disproportionate impact on minority voters. Ms. Clinton has rightfully called for a new Voting Rights Act, recognizing that, throughout the nation, voter suppression based on race remains a serious problem.

Hillary Clinton understands not only that black lives matter, but that justice requires fundamental reform in the courts, on the streets and in classrooms, offices and voting booths. That is why, I predict, by Election Day, she will be embraced, with enthusiasm, by the African-American community.

F. Michael Higginbotham is the Joseph Curtis Professor of Law at the University of Baltimore School of Law and author of Ghosts of Jim Crow: Ending Racism in Post-Racial America (NYU Press, 2013).

The racial injustices of mass deportation

—Tanya Maria Golash-Boza

[This article was originally published on CounterPunch.] 

Comprehensive immigration reform, it seems, is no longer on the political agenda. It is incumbent upon us (by us I mean people committed to immigrant rights and racial justice) to put it back on the agenda. And, the focus of that agenda should be the repeal of the 1996 laws: IIRIRA and AEDPA.

Between 2009 and 2013, I carried out a research project that involved interviewing 147 deportees in four countries. One of the deportees I met, who I will call Ryan, was living outside of Kingston, Jamaica in the house of a distant relative. I will share his story with you, as it is emblematic of many of the problems with immigration law enforcement in the United States and points to the need for reform of the 1996 laws.

Ryan moved to Brooklyn, New York, with his mother, when he was six years old. There, he finished high school and enrolled in college. Things were going well for Ryan until he made one mistake that would change his life.

When Ryan was about 20 years old, he received a phone call from a friend, who asked Ryan for a ride home. As they were driving home, they came across a police checkpoint. It turned out Ryan’s friend was carrying cocaine. Ryan and his friend were found guilty of drug possession and Ryan was sentenced to 18 months in boot camp. When Ryan was released, his fiancé, his daughter, and his mother came to pick him up from boot camp.

However, Ryan was not permitted to go home with his family. Ryan was a legal permanent resident of the United States. And, he had been convicted of possession of narcotics, and thus faced mandatory deportation to Jamaica. From one day to the next, Ryan’s life fell apart.

Ryan was deported due to changes in deportation law passed in 1996 that made deportation mandatory for certain crimes. Since the implementation of these laws in 1997, over five million people have been deported from the United States.

The current period is exceptional insofar as there has never previously been a time when so many people were deported from the United States.

Five million people since 1997. That’s a huge number. It’s over twice the sum total of all deportations prior to 1997. The details of these numbers are often the subject of debate. However, no matter how you slice it, we are in a moment of mass deportation and the effects of this policy are felt in communities across this country and throughout Latin America.

A recent Pew survey revealed that over a quarter of Latinos know someone who has been deported or detained in the past year. This means the effects of deportation are reverberating far beyond these five million individual deportations.

Last year, over 100,000 people who were living in the United States were apprehended by immigration law enforcement agents and deported to their countries of birth. That is three times as many interior removals as there were in 2003. An interior removal refers to someone like Ryan who was living in the United States prior to being deported.

Over the past decade, over 200,000 people who had lived in the United States for more than ten years have been removed from this country. That amounts to the city of Rochester, New York, being depleted of its population over the course of 10 years. Or perhaps more accurately, imagine every father in San Francisco being removed from the country.

Last year, about 100,000 parents of U.S. citizen children were removed from the United States. That’s ten times as many as the sum total of all parents of U.S. citizens removed between 1997 and 2006.

Not only is mass deportation on the rise, it also targets specific populations. About 90% of deportees have been men, and nearly all (97%) are from the Americas, even though about half of all non-citizens are women and only 60 percent of non-citizens are from the Americas.

Mass deportation happens often with minimal due process. In 2009, 231 immigration judges heard more than 300,000 cases – an average of over 1,200 per judge. Dana L. Marks, an immigration judge in San Francisco explained that asylum hearings often feel “like holding death penalty cases in traffic court.”

Immigration court is a bit like traffic court. It is an administrative court without the due process protections of criminal courts. In immigration proceedings, you have no right to legal representation. You can be detained without bond. You can be deported without a full hearing. Ryan, for example, never got to tell a judge that he had come to the United States when he was six, that he qualified for and had applied for citizenship, that he was a college student, that his daughter had just been born, or even that he had no family or friends in Jamaica.

The 1996 laws took away most of judge’s discretionary power in aggravated felony cases. Those convicted now face mandatory and automatic deportation, no matter the extenuating circumstances. Even legal permanent residents like Ryan who have lived in the United States for decades, and have extensive family ties in this country, are subject to deportation for relatively minor crimes they may have committed years ago.

How do we make sense of this? Why is the United States deporting more people than ever before? Why are black and Latino men targeted? And, why are deportation laws so draconian?

In my forthcoming book, Deported: Immigrant Policing, Disposable Labor, and Global Capitalism (NYU Press 2015), I argue that mass deportation is best understood as an instance of racialized state repression, a practice that has a long history in this country.

The racialized and gendered nature of immigration law enforcement – specifically the targeting of black and Latino men – should be unsurprising to anyone familiar with the history of state repression in the United States. The enslavement of African Americans, the internment of the Japanese, and the mass deportation of Mexicans in the 1930s were all official state practices that targeted specific ethnic or racial groups.

In today’s political climate of colorblind racism, it is unacceptable to have a policy that explicitly targets one group. However, it is legal and acceptable to have a policy that – in its implementation – produces disparate outcomes. Insofar as deportation laws are colorblind in their language, it is legally permissible that they are discriminatory in practice.

It is thus well beyond time to change the course of history. We can start by repealing the 1996 laws.

Tanya Maria Golash-Boza is Associate Professor of Sociology at the University of California, Merced. She is the author of several books, including Immigration Nation (2012) and Race and Racisms (2015). Her forthcoming book, Deported: Policing Immigrants, Disposable Labor and Global Capitalism, will be published by NYU Press in 2015.

Picture us free

—Jasmine Nichole Cobb

I have always been enamored by U.S. illustrations of black struggles for freedom. Typical depictions feature African descendants insisting on respect and white state officials denying privileges. Cross-generational portrayals mediate these conflicts by construing blackness as spectacularly distinct within U.S. race relations. Although the specific “rights” in question change over time, these characteristics appear in images from the nineteenth to the twenty-first century. They are the stakes that underpin racist caricatures, early photography, and black screen cultures; in many ways, these themes define the pictorial history of the United States.

The year 2015 marks several watershed moments in the long arc of strivings for black freedom, including the 50th anniversary of the Voting Rights Act, signed by President Lyndon Johnson in 1965, as well as the 150th anniversary of the 13th amendment, ratified in 1865 to abolish the legal practice of slavery. On this continuum, 2015 will contribute its own pictures to the timeline of race in America, with illustrations of the first black president presiding over many important commemorations.

Last Saturday, March 7th, President Barack Obama gave a speech to memorialize the marches from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. While his words were politically salient—charging congress to restore the Voting Rights Act—it is in pictures that the first black president marked an important contribution to the history of black people in the United States. Joined hand-in-hand with survivors of the civil rights struggle, the First Family stood on the frontline of a procession to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge—the site of Bloody Sunday. Captured on the verge of marching, the Obamas were camera ready, smiling, their sense of motion stilled for the photographic opportunity. Hand-in-hand with Senator John Lewis and foot soldier Amelia Boynton Robinson, the Obamas were at the forefront, with Martin Luther King III and Rev. Al Sharpton among those notable figures that receded into back rows of the image.

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Staged to reminisce on the marches to Montgomery, this illustration suggests the fulfillment of black citizenship by the existence of a black president. It honors the murder and violation of activists in 1965, but draws on the sober and respectable depictions of triumph taken from days like March 25th when Martin Luther King Jr., Coretta Scott King and other activists safely arrived in the state capital. In living color, Obama implies the completion of black freedom struggles. Read against the precursor images—black-and-white photos of sixties activists marching forward, lips parted in song, tired, but convicted—the affirmation of black citizenship pictured in 2015 connects to illustrations that exclude contention.

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But like every attempt to picture freedom, threats against black life persist at the margins. While President Obama described the abuses of billy clubs and tear gas during the 1960s, he denied a connection to Ferguson, Missouri, where many of these tactics endure. While we were all invited to picture freedom through illustrations like Selma 2015, we were to look away from the mediation of murder, this time of Wisconsin teen, Tony Robinson.

I cannot deny the beauty of seeing a black president address civil rights activists at the site of transgression. I especially enjoy seeing the First Lady, her mother and growing daughters. But seeing the Obama family is different from viewing their existence as a representation of black freedom. National commemorations of the black freedom struggle, which ask us to hail the Commander-in-Chief as the fulfillment of our strivings, refuse the ways in which that struggle remains ever present. The tension between these motives animates every illustration of this kind.

The most popular depictions of free black people serve to bolster national narratives of U.S. race relations. In my book, Picture Freedom, I explore how people of African descent envisioned black autonomy in the context of slavery and among popular representations that were hostile to the idea of free black people. I consider complicated images that reveal the power and permanence of nineteenth century approaches to blackness. After them, I still enjoy pictures of black freedom, but now I wonder what they obscure.

Jasmine Nichole Cobb is an Assistant Professor of Communication Studies at Northwestern University and an American Fellow of the AAUW. She is the author of Picture Freedom: Remaking Black Visuality in the Early Nineteenth Century (NYU Press, 2015).

Race, ethnicity, and policing

Last year, the killings of unarmed black men by white police officers—the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri and the chokehold death of Eric Garner in New York City—sparked massive protests and a politically-charged debate on race, policing, and the use of force that continues across the country today.

Here at NYU Press, we rounded up a few experts on the topic, including co-editors Stephen K. Rice and Michael D. White and contributors Amanda Geller, Matthew Hickman, Robert Kane, William Parkin, and Ronald Weitzer of Race, Ethnicity, and Policing: New and Essential Readings (NYU Press, 2010).

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Hands up, don’t shoot

One of the responses to the recent police-involved killings of unarmed black men has been a call for police departments to diversify. If police forces were more racially diverse, do you think this would alleviate tensions between police and communities?

MICHAEL WHITE: Racial diversity in a police department is important. The Commission on Accreditation of Law Enforcement Agencies (CALEA) recommends that a police department be representative of the community it serves. On conceptual and perceptual levels, the arguments favoring representativeness are persuasive. Representativeness can demonstrate to a minority community that their police department cares about their needs, interests and well-being. Perception matters a great deal in this regard. The conceptual arguments are equally compelling. Presumably, minority officers will have a better understanding of the cultural norms and beliefs of the residents in a minority neighborhood. Presumably, citizens will feel better about police officers who look and think like them; and who have an understanding of the issues in their community. Presumably, minority officers will be better able to manage difficult encounters with citizens of their own race, because of their more intimate understanding of the background, history and experiences of the people in those minority neighborhoods who may require police service. Though the empirical evidence supporting these perceptual and conceptual arguments is mixed, police departments should be racially and ethnically diverse.

AMANDA GELLER: Diversity among police officers can certainly help improve community relationships on some fronts – resolving linguistic challenges in immigrant communities, for example. To the extent that officers have personal ties to the communities they police, that can also help to establish and reinforce community trust. But diversity alone won’t alleviate tensions if the officers are behaving in ways that the community finds illegitimate. In order to alleviate police-community tensions, community members will need to believe that the police will deal with them in a constitutional way, and treat them with respect.

RONALD WEITZER: Racial diversification of police departments is endorsed by the vast majority of Americans. Some departments have made substantial progress in diversification, but many others are out of sync with the local population.Officers of different racial backgrounds generally behave similarly when they interact with members of the public. They are trained similarly and differ little in performing their duties. But because diversification is popular with the public, it can have intangible, symbolic benefits: helping to build trust and confidence in the police. A police department that reflects the composition of the local population can enhance its reputation and status among residents. A diverse police force can also help to decrease the sense that people are being stopped and questioned solely because of their race. In a majority-black city like Ferguson, where 50 of the 53 officers are white, it is not surprising that African Americans who are stopped might feel like they have been racially profiled.

ROBERT KANE: Diversity is crucial to achieve a well functioning police department. Indeed, as police departments diversify, they tend to become better “behaved” (that is, organizational rates of misconduct decline). To reap the full benefits of diversity, however, police agencies must open all ranks (e.g., detective, supervisory, command, administrative) to minority officers, so that minority officer influence doesn’t just come from the bottom-up, but also from the top-down in the form of policies, practices, and procedures. This shift in organizational culture can only occur if minority officers advance beyond line level ranks.

Amid the multitude of public protests across the country, what do you think is the appropriate role of the media? 

STEPHEN RICE: I’m feeling somewhat optimistic about how well the media’s been drawing on empirical evidence in framing their stories. Sure, there are still a multitude of media outlets that sing the ‘song of sexy’ anecdote, but there are also outlets that attempt to explain crime and criminal justice in serious ways. For example, in recent months, WNYC’s John Hockenberry has invited scholars to speak on a wide range of topics surrounding the issue, including Dennis Rosenbaum on police oversight and accountability, Jon Shane on police organizational culture, varied compelling experts on Ferguson, and George Kelling on broken windows. The next step will be to see how well practitioners such as police leadership work to better integrate empirical evidence into their operations. When corporate America came to realize that evangelizing products and services were key differentiators, they hired CEOs (Chief Evangelist Officers). Why not consider evangelism marketing in police departments by senior-level leaders whose principal task it is to explain how operations are informed by what we know, empirically, about crime and place, community policing, police legitimacy, and competing models of officer engagement?

WILLIAM PARKIN: One can talk about responsible journalism and its role in reporting on and framing the public protests. However, I prefer to put the onus on the public. The media, like most businesses, is driven by the need to supply a product that their audience will consume. It should be of no surprise, then, when media outlets produce sensationalized, polemic pieces that superficially discuss these issues. They present easy-to-understand, black-and-white interpretations of the perspectives of those who support or oppose the viewpoints of the protestors and law enforcement. These stories cater to their typical audience. There are, however, media outlets that provide thoughtful, balanced reporting that attempt to dissect the complicated issues that have brought the country to where it is, in relation to law enforcement, accountability, and the use of force. Instead of discussing the appropriate role of the media, I encourage the public to understand their role and to consume media that attempts to find a solution, not sensationalize the problem.

How would you propose police go about changing their image to that of an effective and legitimate agency of authority?

AMANDA GELLER: Public perceptions of the police are largely shaped by personal experience, and what’s known as “vicarious” experience – the experiences of friends and family, and what people witness in their communities. We also know that this legal socialization is shaped not only by whether people have been stopped by the police (or witness the stops of others in their communities), but also by what happens in these encounters. If people feel like they’ve been treated fairly – that they were stopped for a legitimate reason, treated with respect, given a chance to explain themselves – and if they feel that decisions were made through just procedures, these types of encounters can help to restore a sense of police legitimacy among community members.

To ensure accountability and transparency, how can police corruption be monitored or prevented?

MATTHEW HICKMAN: There are several levels of monitoring that need to be considered. First, we expect police departments themselves to provide some degree of internal oversight. Over time, there has been a steady trend toward emphasizing external oversight bodies as a compliment to internal review functions. There are many different models of civilian oversight, but all recognize that a greater role of civilians in oversight is fundamentally democratic and seeks to ensure some level of responsiveness to community concerns. Most important is the vigilance of community groups and organizations, such as local chapters of the American Civil Liberties Union. When all else fails, the U.S. Department of Justice has authority to pursue criminal action against officers and civil litigation against police departments that evidence behavior infringing on constitutional rights.

Given the attacks in Paris at Charlie Hebdo and the Hyper Cacher kosher market, some have argued that ethnic and faith-based profiling will rise in Europe and/or the United States. How do you feel we should frame profiling in a broader, global context?

STEPHEN RICE: No matter how strenuously one might feel that differential attention is warranted in neighborhoods or airports, a simple fact remains: profiling is fraught with error (Type 1 error, or false positives), a condition which fundamentally undermines public trust and its willingness to impart authorities with the power to exercise discretion. When one speaks of Muslim Americans—a group estimated at 2.5 million nationwide—perceptions of profiling is very serious business. Judgments people make about the fairness of their experiences condition views regarding the legitimacy of authority, and these views shape compliance with the law. In Europe, future perceived attacks on civil rights under the banner of assimilation (e.g., banning of the hijab) may come to be framed concomitant with a “war on terror,” hence as structured anti-Muslim discrimination. There is a critical relationship between interactions with agents of social control, the emotions that can manifest as a result of these interactions (e.g., anger, rage, humiliation), and an individual’s willingness to accept the legitimacy of authority.

WILLIAM PARKIN: As humans, we are forced to generalize, stereotype and make assumptions about people and places based on limited information. Most of us have few, if any, meaningful interactions on a daily basis with people of different races, ethnicities, cultures or religions. Therefore, when profiling based on race or religion is presented as an option for combating crime or terrorism, it seems like a practical solution to the majority (i.e., those not being profiled). A deeper analysis of the issue, however, leads to questions around whether profiling is a fair application of justice: Does it undermine the legitimacy of the criminal justice system? Could it actually alienate—or increase the risk presented by—these profiled groups? Does it even work? In many ways, it is like looking for a needle in a haystack where, to you, every piece of hay also looks like a needle. Law enforcement would be better served, both from an ethical and practical perspective, by implementing policies that encourage hiring minority candidates and strengthening and increasing positive dialogue with minority communities. Just as law enforcement officers should be judged by their individual behavior, not profiled because of the actions of a few, so should the public that they serve.

Some members of the public feel strongly that stop-question-and-frisk is an appropriate strategy for policing in the United States.  What are your opinions on this approach?  

ROBERT KANE: The original intent of “stop and frisk” was to allow police officers to pat-down the outer clothing of a suspect for weapons. The major problems with using stop-and-frisk as a crime detection strategy are, (1) officers usually don’t find contraband or weapons, and (2) stop-and-frisks are generally concentrated in the parts of town (or city) characterized by racially-concentrated structural disadvantage. Thus, the crime-reduction benefits seem greatly outweighed by the social costs: Mothers, aunts, grandmothers, and sisters grow tired of watching their men and boys being “put against the wall” whenever they leave their dwellings. As a consequence, aggressive stop-and-frisk strategies tend to erode public trust in the police, which ultimately leads to a lack of legitimacy. In the end, police departments would do themselves a lot of good if they simply remembered: A little coercion goes a long way; and in the most disenfranchised communities, too much coercion can backfire.

Do “body cams” worn by police officers offer a solution to ending police misconduct?

MICHAEL WHITE: Police officer body-worn cameras (BWCs) are not a silver bullet. But the technology can serve as an important tool in the larger package of accountability mechanisms that a department can put in place. Relatedly, the technology may serve as a solution to the split-second syndrome. Police-citizen encounters are transactional events, with each participant making decisions and responding to the decisions of the other participant. As a result, use of force by a police officer is the culmination of a series of earlier actions and reactions. However, review of force incidents traditionally ignores earlier stages of an encounter and focuses entirely on the final-frame decision. James Fyfe called this the split-second syndrome, and he argued that this narrow focus excuses unnecessary violence resulting from poor decisions made by officers at earlier stages of the encounter. BWCs represent an opportunity to overcome the split-second syndrome because the technology allows for a full review of all decisions made by the officer during an encounter, from start to finish.

MATTHEW HICKMAN: It’s still too early to tell. Many scholars and practitioners are referring to the Rialto study, which provided some of the first strong evidence about the positive benefits of body cameras, and there are studies going on in other cities, such as Phoenix and Los Angeles. But we need to be patient and wait for the evidence to accumulate from these studies before we start subsidizing the purchase of body cameras and changing policies. Recall what happened with the Minneapolis Domestic Violence Experiment: a lot of media attention and proselytizing about the deterrent effects of arrest, and then we started to see widespread policy changes toward mandatory arrest. Five subsequent replications of the Minneapolis DV experiment in other cities yielded a relatively mixed bag of results, with arrest having varied and weaker effects than in Minneapolis. Subsequent reanalysis has tended to confirm the deterrent effect of arrest. But let’s be careful not to put the cart before the horse with body cameras, and allow the evidence to accumulate. Patience!

Stephen K. Rice is Associate Professor in the Department of Criminal Justice at Seattle University and co-editor of Race, Ethnicity, and Policing: New and Essential Readings (NYU Press, 2010). Michael D. White is Associate Professor in the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice at Arizona State University. He is co-editor of Race, Ethnicity, and Policing: New and Essential Readings (NYU Press, 2010) and co-author of Jammed Up: Bad Cops, Police Misconduct, and the New York City Police Department (NYU Press, 2012). Amanda Geller is Clinical Associate Professor of Sociology at New York University. Matthew Hickman is Associate Professor of Criminal Justice at Seattle University. Robert Kane is Professor of Criminology and Justice Studies at Drexel University. He is the co-author of Jammed Up: Bad Cops, Police Misconduct, and the New York City Police Department (NYU Press, 2012). William Parkin is Assistant Professor of Criminal Justice at Seattle University. Ronald Weitzer is Professor of Sociology at George Washington University and author of Legalizing Prostitution: From Illicit Vice to Lawful Business (NYU Press, 2012).