Although I realize it is not the same thing, this very personal experience makes it even more powerfully clear to me why much of the struggle and challenge of eradicating intergenerational poverty is about poor people finding and having voice.  Finding and speaking their truth about their barriers to and hopes for rising, and believing they have a say in their own definition of rising both as individuals and as members of a community.  Finding and having voice is fundamental to the personal transformation necessary to be the change one needs to be in their own life.  My commitment to listening, and to using my voice to do what I can to make space for the voices of others is deeper and stronger, all because of a birthday song sung to me by my mother.

The Los Angeles Times reported yesterday that two Cuban film stars may have defected on their way to the Tribeca Film Festival in New York.  Last week, Raul Castro criticized President Obama for calling for democratic reforms in Cuba at the Summit for the Americas, and Ozzie Guillan, manager of the Miami Marlins professional baseball team, went back to work after a five-game suspension for making pro-Fidel Castro remarks.

I went to Cuba last month for the first time.  It did not leave me thinking good things about Fidel Castro, or his brother, Raul.  It did leave me thinking that the democratic reforms President Obama called for might not be so crazy to imagine.  I say that because in Havana, I saw a great deal about how hard it is to suppress people’s desire to rise.

I was in Cuba with a group of Boston business leaders on a religious delegation. We technically accompanied Archbishop Sean Cardinal O’Malley, who went for the Papal mass.  We spent three days getting to know Havana, including nonprofit work being done by Caritas Cubana.  At the mass, we sat a stone’s throw (with a decent throwing arm) away from Raul Castro and his team.  Throwing such a stone would have been a very bad idea, however, given the Grizz and Dot Com sizes of the gentlemen flanking him.  (30 Rock reference.  You can look it up.)

The juxtaposition of Castro’s oppressive-looking body guards and the gazillion-foot obelisk in Revolution Square behind the altar with the chanting (yes, they chanted at a Papal mass) exuberance of the crowd were symbolic of what I saw throughout the trip: a government can attempt to systematically dismantle the tools for rising, and people will find ways to rise anyway.

I have discussed this idea of “rising” in these pages before.    It is the act of making happen what you want for you, your family and your community.  It is self-determination at a personal and community level.  In my organization, we think the tools for rising include an education that gives you a shot at a job, a job that lets you build some assets over time, and strong social connections to support you along the way.

In Cuba, the education system is state-run.  From what we learned, quality and attendance are in true decline.  Employment is hard to get a handle on.  The official Cuban data is 4.6%, but that seems non-credible.

Incomes are terrifically low — a doctor, for example, makes, on average, $26.00 a month.  Other than homeownership, which on an informal basis is over 80% (home ownership was made legal for the first time only in December) people hold very few assets.  There are few things to own because consumer goods are ridiculously difficult to obtain, incomes are staggeringly low, and there is no infrastructure for wholesale markets.  As for social connections, parish life was strong in the neighborhoods we visited.  We saw artists communities, extended families living together to maintain ownership rights over property, and what appeared to be strong ties between vendors in government-operated marketplaces.

This is a conflicting picture, to be sure.  Overall, though, my experience of the residents of Havana was definitely of people finding ways to rise.  We saw evidence of an underground economy.  Caritas Cubana and other NGOs were finding ways to do extensive charity work despite the complete lack of government support.  We also saw them pushing into workforce development and affordable housing — all without any regulatory or financial supports.

Where the government had full control, as with education, it was harder to ascertain whether people were getting it done on their own.  As I mentioned, for example, we heard that education has been slipping.  Where government had little control, however, such as with social networks, the underlying fabric seemed strong.

Since returning, people have seemed surprised by my observations.  I often hear some variation of, “‘Fifty years of the government controlling peoples’ lives and providing for all the basics will make people lazy, complacent and unimaginative.”

I respectfully disagree.  What I saw in Havana confirmed my own belief, which is that rising is our natural state.  We were born to rise and want to rise.  Life can come along and suppress either the desire or the ability, but it has to work pretty hard to do that, and the rising will leak out the sides, anyway.

Apparently, that’s true when a government tries to suppress rising, too.

I work in Boston and had a conversation last week with a colleague of mine about the Trayvon Martin case. That was when she told me about “The Talk,” a very different kind of family ritual of which I had been completely ignorant until then. I learned that parents of young black boys around my son’s age give them a set of “rules” to avoid raising suspicions from authorities when they are out in the world. Some rules seemed to make sense (although strange to have to discuss with an eleven year old), like “never reach into your pocket when talking to the police.” Others seemed absurd, especially for an eleven year old, like “never run anywhere” or “never hang around.” Still others seemed maddeningly conflicting, like “never travel in a group,” but “never go anywhere alone.” As we’ve all seen far too many times, failure to follow these rules can lead to anything from questioning by the police to, sometimes, death.

After work that day, my wife and I were discussing this Talk that some parents need to have with their children to keep them safe. My son, who was in the next room doing his homework, overheard us and rushed in, looking agitated.

“Wait!” he said, “There’s a talk you are supposed to have with me to keep me from getting shot?!?!?”

He looked betrayed and bewildered at the idea that we would let him go into a dangerous world and deny him vital information that he needed to be safe. He was also a little indignant, guessing that we might have been withholding this information from him “until he was old enough.”

My immediate reaction was amusement—what he had proposed was ridiculous. My son has got as much chance of being shot in his daily routine because someone finds him threatening as he has of getting hit by lightning. My next feeling was of relief and joy, because I don’t have to have this talk with my son. I can go to work every day, and he can go to school, totally free from these worries.

“No.” I said, “People like us don’t have to give that talk to our sons.”

But as soon as those words left my mouth, I knew this talk was far from over. In fact, it turned out that we were about to have the exact inverse of “The Talk” that parents of color have with their sons. Not about how we need to change our behaviors to be safe, but about why we don’t have to.

“People like us?” he asked, puzzled. What did I mean?

I had to think about it for a minute. What is it, really, that makes some people have to give the talk to their sons and makes us exempt? Is it that we make more money than they do? Or that we live in a suburb and not in the city? That didn’t feel completely true. I’ve heard of middle class, black families taking their sons to their suburban police departments to introduce them around so police officers wouldn’t be suspicious of them in the community. Obviously wealth and location doesn’t shield these families from these fears. There was really only one answer left.

“People who are white.” I told him.

At eleven, my son has learned a little bit about race in America. He’s been through six Martin Luther King Jr. Days and Black History Months in our public schools. To him, racism is the overt racism of the 50’s: a world of separate bathrooms and sitting in the back of the bus. Today, when black people can sit where they want, eat where they want, vote, and even become President, it’s easy to see how he thinks racism is a thing of the past.

But racism hasn’t gone away, I told him, it’s just different today. When white people see a black person they feel threatened in a way that they don’t when they see another white person. When a white person reaches for their wallet to identify themselves to a police officer, they are reaching for their wallet. When a black man reaches for his wallet, he could be reaching for a gun. So black parents teach their sons to keep their hands where everyone can see them. White parents don’t.

My son will never have to learn these tactics to survive. His freedom from this danger is a privilege that he was born with, that he didn’t have to earn, and one that we can never take away. And, it’s a privilege that we must work to extend to other boys like him so they, too, can live without fear.

That was “The Talk” we had with our son.

This week’s mission moment comes to you courtesy of Harvard University.

I am an alumna of the Harvard Kennedy School (MPP class of 2000). About a year ago, the university suggested I stand for election as an Harvard Alumni Association director. I did. This last weekend, I attended my third HAA board meeting.

Over these last three meetings, I have been struck in particular by just how hard Harvard alumni work on behalf of students to ensure that getting a Crimson cap means lifelong access to the tools for rising – an education that gives you a shot at a job, a job that helps you build assets over time, and strong social connections. While this may not surprise those readers who perceive access to the privileges of Harvard as something carefully cultivated and jealously guarded, and may very much surprise those who perceive the Harvard imprimatur as automatically guaranteeing lifelong control over the tools for rising, but it struck me so profoundly because it showed that no one at Harvard takes rising for granted, even if they could.

The community understands so profoundly and fundamentally the importance of accessing and leveraging the tools for rising that they focus like a laser beam. They never just let it ride. They also treat the university like a village – one in which the elders have an expressed responsibility to help the next generation rise.

As I was leaving my last meeting Saturday, I kept thinking, “I want this for everyone. I want this kind of access, focus, mentoring, institutionalized support to be available to everyone trying to rise. I want it to be a given for every young person in Boston that she or he can rise, and for every young person’s village that there must be tireless stewardship of the tools for rising on their behalf.”

That’s the vision here at Boston Rising. Imagine the possibilities…

Up we go!

Tiziana
Tiziana C. Dearing
Chief Executive Officer

I was there two weeks ago with a group of Boston business leaders on a religious delegation. We went down when Archbishop Sean Cardinal O’Malley went for the Papal Mass.  We spent three days getting to know Havana, including nonprofit work being done by Caritas Cubana, and attended the mass.  The trip offered a lifetime’s worth of learning experiences.

I can think of a dozen mission moments I might share from that trip.  We could talk about what it is like to be in a fascist state.  (It sure looked fascist to me.) We could talk about the role of NGOs in fomenting civil society under repressive regimes.  We could talk about the continuum between charity work and capacity building, and how to decide when to do which.  We could even talk about what it’s like to be in a glorious city frozen roughly fifty years ago in time.   I’d love to talk about all of that and more.

What I am going to talk about, though, is rising.  What I saw in Havana is how a government can attempt to systematically dismantle the tools for rising, and how people can find ways to rise anyway.

Remember, we think the tools for rising include an education that gives you a shot at a job, a job that lets you build some assets over time, and strong social connections to support you along the way.  In Cuba, the education system is state-run.  From what we learned, quality and attendance are in true decline.  Employment is hard to get a handle on.  The official Cuban data is 4.6%, but that seems non-credible from what we saw.

Incomes are terrifically low – a doctor, for example, makes, on average, $26.00 a month.  Other than homeownership, which on an informal basis is over 80% (home ownership was made legal for the first time only in December) people hold very few assets.  There are few things to own because consumer goods are ridiculously difficult to obtain, incomes are so low, and there is no infrastructure for wholesale markets.  As for social connections, parish life was strong in the neighborhoods we visited.  We saw artists communities, extended families living together to maintain ownership rights over property, and what appeared to be strong ties between vendors in government-operated marketplaces.

Why raise this conflicting picture?  Because overall, my experience of the residents of Havana were of people finding ways to rise.  We saw evidence of an underground economy.  Caritas Cubana and other NGOs were finding ways to do extensive charity work despite the complete lack of government support.  We also saw them pushing into workforce development, affordable housing and entrepreneurship – all without any regulatory or financial supports.   Where the government had full control, as with education, it was harder to ascertain whether people were getting it done on their own.  Where government had little control, such as with social networks, the underlying fabric seemed strong.

People have seemed surprised by my observations.  The common assumption among those who are surprised is that 50 years of the government controlling peoples’ lives and providing for all the basics will make people lazy, complacent and unimaginative.

But I believe that what I saw in Havana confirmed my own belief, which is that rising is our natural state.  We were born to rise and want to rise.  Life can come along and suppress either the desire or the ability, but it has to work pretty hard to do that, and the rising will leak out the sides, anyway.

Apparently, that’s true when a government tries to suppress rising, too.

Up we go!

Tiziana
Tiziana C. Dearing
Chief Executive Officer

As a member of the Boston Rising team, I believe that a huge inhibitor to “one Rising Class” or transformative community change is the underlying assumption that power is finite and that in any one community, some people will win and some will lose. Yes, positional power is finite. And, yes, civil society needs positional power to function efficiently and effectively. But, personal power is infinite too and can be recognized and shared on a consistent basis within community systems.  A culture that fosters sharing power offers the collective ground needed to support community members in sharing their best gifts and achieving their highest potential.  The practice of sharing personal power ensures that positional power is merely a practical instrument and not the dominate frame.

I understand that asking diverse community residents “to share power” seems big and perhaps overly optimistic. So, instead, think of sharing power as a call for you and others to start on a new journey while “carrying” two items with you along this journey. The first item you must carry and use on this journey is a backpack containing your unique kernel of power. All of us are born with unique qualities to contribute. Any time you meet with a fellow community member or hold a small team meeting, make sure you have your backpack with you. Even if you do not fully know or understand your unique kernel of power, remember that you have it to give and it is available to you.

The second item to always carry and use is an empty treasure chest.  The purpose of this chest is to remind you that you are on a treasure hunt for kernels of power held by your fellow community members.  Again, when you sit with someone for a cup of coffee or hold a meeting to talk about a particular community issue or initiative bring your treasure chest and actively seek out the treasures offered to you through your engagement with others.

Over time, if you repeatedly focus on harnessing your personal power while also exploring the personal power of others, you will begin to uncover new resources and solutions that you couldn’t have imagined.  If you practice sharing power repeatedly, then over time in interactions with others, you will begin to see the unfolding of a new and transformed community ecosystem.

If you are still feeling skeptical or uncomfortable with the practice of “power sharing,” think of it in terms of four simple behavioral shifts.

Shift One: Understanding your own unique personal power. 

• What does this new behavior look like?
• You enter each new encounter feeling positive,  open and calm.
• What does the old behavior look like?
• You enter each new encounter feeling anxious and the       need to protect yourself.
• Why is the shift hard to make?
• We have a well-developed story in our head that says  we don’t have anything to contribute to others or that others do not       appreciate what we have to offer.

Shift Two: Contributing from your own unique personal power.

• What does this new behavior look like?
• You listen more carefully to creative thoughts that bubble-up in your head and then you take on the risk of sharing these       thoughts with others.
• What does the old behavior look like?
• You hold back from offering an idea or you consume       yourself with focusing and talking about concerns or limiting circumstances.
• Why is the shift hard to make?
• We have a well-developed story in our head that tells us we have little to contribute to others or that others do not       appreciate what we have to offer.

Shift Three: Being curious about another person’s unique personal power.

• What does this new behavior look like?
• You talk less and look for opportunities to specifically  ask others about their ideas and thoughts.
• What does the old behavior look like?
• You consume a lot of time talking or you passively       participate, which can inhibit others in talking or offering an idea or thought.
• Why is the shift hard to make?
• Many times, we have to work hard just to get our ideas out in the open, much less devoting energy to drawing out others,       especially those who are shy or reticent.

Shift Four: Receiving offers from another person’s unique personal power.

• What does this new behavior look like?
• You ask clarifying questions which indicates that you heard what someone said and you are genuinely interested in knowing more, even if you do not agree.
• What does the old behavior look like?
• You might immediately disagree, link the offer back to your point or dismiss it because it does not match what you were looking for.
• Why is the shift hard to make?
• We often hear what people say through our immediate lens, which is usually a protective one. So, our first instinct is to       judge an offer based on how it serves or does not serve our positional interests.

At Boston Rising, when we introduce the concept of the Rising Class, we often say, “At Boston Rising, the term Rising Class represents an entire community of self-determined people committed to achieving their own American Dream.”  This idea resonates strongly with people, but sometimes in different ways.

Recently, we have heard from some of our African-American stakeholders that the American Dream means something very different for them than for the white community.  To them, it implies an idealized, almost 1950′s way of life, built on industry and policies that excluded and sometimes exploited black people.  (For example, when Social Security was enacted in the late 1930s, domestic workers – who were mostly people of color – were deliberately excluded.) For some, the American Dream is not an inspiring concept.

I raise this for two important reasons.  First, when we talk about rising here, we always talk about people being able to “rise in the way they choose.”  There is a difference between the American Dream and your American Dream – being free and able to make happen the life you want for you and your family.  All of what we know and think about ourselves in this country is in near-constant renegotiation.  But one thing that remains the same is our commitment to self-determination.  It is a core promise that each American can self-determine his or her future. That is what we are so committed to here at Boston Rising.

This nuance has been on my mind so much for the second important reason.  I doubt anyone has missed the public conversation about George Zimmerman’s shooting of Trayvon Martin in Florida last month.  On some levels, it is an incredibly complicated story.  But in many ways, it really is quite simple.

Trayvon Martin and his father thought they were going to be able to rise in the ways they chose.  Indeed, the ways they chose looked a lot like the stereotypical American Dream.  They lived in a gated community.  He was getting an education.  He had money in his pocket when he headed to the store to buy candy and soda, as I did myself going to and from Henry’s Ice Cream so often when I was a kid.  And then something went terribly wrong with his and his family’s American Dream.  While we don’t know all the details of that night, given what we do know, it’s hard to believe that his race, combined with his now-famous hoodie, weren’t a trigger.

That’s another truth about rising.  Even when we have the trappings of self-determination, sometimes old beliefs about race, identity, and  entitlement take it away.  We have work to do if we truly are committed to people being able to rise in the ways they choose.

Up we go!

Tiziana

Tiziana C. Dearing
Chief Executive Officer

In the last week or so, the South by Southwest Technology Conference in Austin, Texas (SXSW) caused a tremendous amount of controversy by employing homeless people to walk around the conference space as human 4G wireless hotspots. The conference, as described by the New York Times, “has become a magnet for those who want to chase the latest in technology trends.” This year, thanks to a promotional idea by BBH Labs, conference-goers could make a “donation” to one of these “Homeless Hotspots,” as they were called, to obtain the privilege of internet access. The employees, from a local homeless shelter, were paid $20 per day for the work and were allowed to keep the money people paid to use the hotspots.

Much ado — and I mean much — has been made about the Homeless Hotspots. Most pieces have been a jumble of confusion trying to sort out whether this was a bad thing because it belittled the people employed, or a good thing because it employed them. The answer is both. And if we comb it out, we can see why.

Let’s start with the good part. Employment is good. Income is good. People engaging in gainful, legal employment that offers them a sense of control over their work and earns a wage that can be used for food, shelter and items of aspiration, is good. It’s OK to say that and think that, even when we are vaguely, or maybe acutely, uncomfortable with some of the circumstances around the employment. The Times summed that part well with this quote from one of the workers:

“Everyone thinks I’m getting the rough end of the stick, but I don’t feel that,” Mr. Jones said. “I love talking to people and it’s a job. An honest day of work and pay.”

As Johnny Depp said in Rango, (yes, I’m at that place in life where I’m quoting kids’ movies,) “Ain’t no shame in that.”

Unfortunately, there’s also a troubling undercurrent to the way this idea was executed. It played out in two ways. First, work is dignity. So why wasn’t this just treated as work? Second, people are people, not objects. There’s a difference between, “I’m a Homeless Hotspot,” and “I’m carrying a 4G hotspot.”

The organizers and users of the Homeless Hotspot idea tried to have it both ways. They made it about charity for homeless people and a transaction to get wireless connectivity. That gets messy. You can’t say, “Hey, we’re just employing people,” on the one hand and then call the payment for hotspot usage a “donation.” Which is it? Is this charity or work?

The truth is, it was work. The $20 per diem paid for labor, and the money handed over on the spot paid for the Internet connection. Who kept the money was a contractual question between employer and employee. The problem came in trading on the workers’ economic status outside of the conference to gain a patina of social good inside the conference. Effectively, it shrunk the dignity of the work. It devalued the labor in favor of showing off the workers’ economic vulnerability for reputational gain. Not cool.

Then there’s the, “I’m a Homeless Hotspot,” part. No. That’s a person, actually. I know some readers will think this is an overreaction. But it isn’t.

Poverty is a dehumanizing force. National sage Maurice Lim Miller describes it as a problem of self-determination. Self-determination is what makes us free and complete. It’s the chance to rise in the ways we choose, to make of our lives what we want. Extreme poverty blocks that progress at all crossroads, and it takes away our dignity over time.

That means we should set the bar even higher for avoiding dehumanizing experiences for our neighbors in poverty. Life is doing that enough as it is.

In the best of economic circumstances, turning people into products for profit or entertainment is troubling. People experiencing homelessness are not in the best of circumstances. Out of respect, we have an obligation to participate in commodifying the person even less in this case. “I’m a Homeless Hotspot,” doesn’t pass the test.

In life, things really can be good and bad. To BBH Labs and SXSW I say: Kudos on the work. Raspberries on the execution. In this case, work could have come with dignity, and it didn’t. Ironically, the 4G hotspot would have worked — and people would have paid for it — either way.

Last week, at our invitation, Prof. Bane came to Boston Rising to spend a couple of hours talking with our team about national trends in poverty.  Two slides she showed us really hit home.  The first was on income growth (using Congressional Budget Office data) and the second was on incarceration rates (using data from the US Census Bureau and Bureau of Justice Statistics).

Income Growth

Over the last 30 years, real annual income for the bottom 80% of earners in the United States remained flat.  If, however, your household earned in the top 1% during those 30 years, your income nearly tripled to somewhere between $1.5 and $2.0 million.  These numbers take into account inflation.  They also are by household, not individual.  More households have two earners now.  Here is the graph we saw.  It comes from Mother Jones, but the data is from the Congressional Budget Office.

Incarceration

Over the last 30 years, incarceration rates among White male high-school dropouts more than doubled, going from fewer than 5% to more than 10%.  Black male high-school dropouts were on another plane entirely.  Their incarceration rates nearly tripled, to 35%.  That is in addition to the more than 5% of Black male high-school graduates who are incarcerated.

Here is the graph Prof. Bane shared with us.  It comes from The Pew Charitable Trusts.

As a student of public policy, it is impossible to look at these charts and not see significant systemic issues to address.  But the first step is just to know the situation.  I think most people aren’t aware of these numbers, and we should be.  This is what’s happening for swaths of our citizenry.  These kinds of numbers, in part, are why it is so important that we help all members of the Rising Class once again access and use the tools to rise.

Up we go!

Tiziana

Tiziana C. Dearing
Chief Executive Officer

When I look a little closer though, the ante is upped even more.  When I consider why individuals and organizations are not transparent, I understand that it is because no one wants to be that vulnerable to criticism or to charges of hypocrisy and disingenuousness.  No one wants to take this kind of risk.  So, you choose to be transparent or you don’t.  And almost always, you don’t.  With this “all or nothing” way of considering transparency, no Foundation will ever be transparent.  Alternatively, transparency could be held as the ideal – something to strive for – and even then some level of relationship is necessary for transparency to grow in the fertile soil of empathy.  Taking the risk to reveal how decisions are made, how much progress or lack thereof is made, when mistakes are made can only happen with some modicum of confidence when the benefit of the doubt is offered.  And the benefit of the doubt is only given when there is some minimum level of trust, in relationship.

I have recently watched a TED talk on vulnerability many times because it so resonates.  The talk, by Brené Brown, Ph.D, a research professor of Social Work at the University of Houston, reveals to me that vulnerability is the key to transparency.  Genuine transparency.  If Boston Rising believes in the transformative power of connections, then we have to be willing ourselves to be transparent, to be seen, to be vulnerable.  This requires, according to Brown, a willingness to have the courage and compassion to be who we are not be stymied by who we are expected to be.  To risk relationships that might not work out.  To resist the temptations to make what is uncertain certain, make what is imperfect perfect, to pretend we know “the truth” when we do not.

So, as we at Boston Rising proceed in our quest to clarify and then operationalize our values, and then act based on these values, we have to be clear about taking on transparency as an aspiration from which we won’t shy away, even if it makes us vulnerable.