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Posts tagged as “Dena Crowder”

Eleven Years Ago Today: Good Black News Was Founded

GOOD BLACK NEWS proudly celebrates its eleventh anniversary today, March 18, 2021. GBN initially launched in 2010 as a Facebook page (read the story behind GBN’s creation here), and in 2012, we created a dedicated website, goodblacknews.org, which has allowed us to provide archives, search functions and easy access to our most popular social media to you, our readers.

The outpouring of appreciation you’ve shown us over the years via follows, likes, comments, shares, reblogs, DMs and e-mails means the world (even when we are overwhelmed and can’t respond to them all), and inspires GBN to keep working to find ways to expand, improve, and offer more content on the main page as well as on FacebookTwitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr, YouTubeRSS feed, LinkedIn and Flipboard (new)!

In the past year, we were honored to not only have GBN’s 2016 Editorial “What I Said When My White Friend Asked for My Black Opinion on White Privilege” recirculate across the internet, but also to see the May 2020 editorial, A Letter to Friends Who Really Want to End Racism, spark much-needed conversation on both topics.

Additionally, GBN was featured in the April 2020 New York Times article “The News Is Making People Anxious. You’ll Never Believe What They’re Reading Instead.” and the June 2020 Good Housekeeping piece How To Explain White Privilege to Someone Who Doesn’t Think it Exists.

In July 2020 GBN Founder and Editor-in-Chief Lori Lakin Hutcherson was interviewed about Good Black News on Barry Shore’s Joy of Living podcast and in Fall 2020 finally spoke with Jason, the high school friend whose Facebook post lead to “What I Said When My White Friend Asked for My Black Opinion on White Privilege” on the premiere episode of the Three Uncanny Four podcast Do The Work:

In 2020, Lori also started a Q&A column entitled “Dear Lori” where she responds to questions about white privilege and race she’s been asked by readers that she intends to resume shortly, because the questions just don’t stop.

And after years of promising in these anniversary posts, we finally launched the GBN newsletter via email. The intention is for it to be weekly but for myriad reasons, it hasn’t been consistent. In the coming months, we aim to make it so.

GBN is super proud to announce that in Fall 2021 Workman Publishing will be offering our first physical product: a Page-A-Day® Calendar entitled A Year of Good Black News for 2022, chock full of history, trivia and fun Black facts to enjoy every day of the year. We will offer more information on the calendar and its availability in the coming months.

Good Black News remains a labor of love for Founder/Editor-In-Chief Lori Lakin Hutcherson and co-editor Lesa Lakin, and we must gratefully acknowledge 2020’s volunteer contributors: Susan Cartsonis, Julie Adelle Bibb, Beck Carpenter, Hanelle Culpepper Meier, Jessie Davis, Dan Evans, Gina Fattore, Julie Fishman, Michael Giltz, Eric Greene, Thaddeus Grimes-Gruczka, Ashanti Hutcherson, Warren Hutcherson, Fred Johnson, Epiphany Jordan, Brenda Lakin, Joyce Lakin, Ray Lancon, Lois Leveen, John Levinson, Rob Lowry, Catherine Metcalf, Lara Olsen, Flynn Richardson, Maeve RichardsonRosanna Rossetto and Becky Schonbrun

Special thanks to Zyda Culpepper Mellon for allowing GBN to share her powerful video testimony on how white friends and family can be allies, to TedX speaker and contributor Dena Crowder for creating and sharing her Power Shot video series on GBN, to incredible Tech Jedi Samer Shenouda for migrating and revamping the GBN website to make us bigger, stronger, faster, and to Jeff Meier, Teddy Tenenbaum and Marlon West for creating incredible Spotify playlists and posts covering a variety of genres, sub-genres and artists celebrating the musical diaspora, past and present. You are all deeply, greatly appreciated.

Please continue to help us spread GBN by sharing, liking, re-tweeting and commenting, and consider following GBN here on the main page, as well as wherever you are on social media.

Please also consider joining our e-mail list via our “Contact Us” tab. We will only use this list to keep you updated on GBN and send you our e-newsletter. And, of course, you may opt out at any time.

GBN believes in bringing you positive news, reviews and stories of interest about black people all over the world, and greatly value your participation in continuing to build our shared vision.

Thank you again for your support, and we look forward to providing you with more Good Black News in the coming year, and beyond!

Warmly,

The Good Black News Team

“New Direction for Democracy”: Dena Crowder’s 6-Minute Power Shot on the Importance of Listening to Black Voices (WATCH)

In today’s “Power Shot,” TEDx speaker, Power Lab performance coach, and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder breaks down how white supremacy is the ideology behind the biggest threat to democracy in the United States.

Crowder clearly and concisely explains how Black people have been and continue to be essential to preserving and re-defining democracy, why Black voices must be listened to, and gives deeper context for why #BlackLivesMatter. Check it out:

Check out Dena’s other Power Shots below:

“You Are The Solution”: Dena Crowder’s 6-Minute Power Shot on Why Voting This November is So Crucial (WATCH)

In today’s “Power Shot,” TEDx speaker, Power Lab performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder explains so clearly and succinctly in three simple steps exactly how and why mobilizing to vote is so crucial this November, Good Black News is adding a fourth step:

WATCH and SHARE Dena’s video everywhere so anyone who is on the fence about voting can hop on over into the right side of history and utilize their power to affect significant change.

To quote just some of Dena’s insightful guidance:

There is no perfect, uncorrupted, ideal candidate, do not get caught up in that… Whoever wins this election is going to set the tone for the direction that we take on every single issue facing Black Americans.

We’re talking prison, we’re talking police, we’re talking human rights, we’re talking civil rights, we are talking healthcare and housing. So prioritize what really matters and vote the bigger picture.

Watch below… and share!

Black People Let’s Stop Just Surviving – It’s Time To Thrive! 8-Minute Power Shot with Dena (WATCH)

Over the past few months, TEDx speaker, performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder has offered “Power Shot” guides on Mental Health and Well-Being, Transforming Trauma, Tapping into our Own Power to Affect Meaningful Change, Divining our Worth and Transforming the Internalized Face of Power.

This week, Dena offers an eight-minute Power Shot to help Black people move beyond the survival skills we’ve necessarily developed and employed to stay alive over the centuries into ones that allow us to live fully and thrive — on our own terms. Watch:

TEDx Speaker Dena Crowder Offers 5-Minute Guide on Transforming the Internalized Face of Power (WATCH)

When you envision a “boss,” who does that boss look like to you? Yourself? Your actual boss? Beyoncé? Deep down, who do you consider to be a successful “authority figure,” and why?

Is it possible who you say that figure is may not jibe with who you subconsciously have been conditioned to see in that role? If so, how does that effect how you navigate your life?

TEDx speaker, performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder offers a five-minute “Power Shot” to aid and guide us on discovering the hidden views we may hold regardless of age, race or gender about who a “successful authority” looks like, and how to transform those views into ones that feed, not fetter, our inner power. Watch:

TEDx Speaker Dena Crowder Offers 5-Minute Guide on Divining Your Own Worth (WATCH)

For centuries, enslaved Africans were brought to America and had their worth literally determined in dollars and cents on an auction block.

This legacy of being bartered, traded, valued and devalued systemically and arbitrarily has been intrinsic to the African-American experience – a legacy that persists in many ways and is in serious need of transformation.

TEDx speaker, performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder  today offers a five-minute“Power Shot” to aid and guide us on divining and defining our own worth. Watch:

Tedx Speaker Dena Crowder Offers 5-Minute Guide on Tapping into Your Own Power to Affect Meaningful Change (WATCH)

In 1971, Wadsworth A. Jarrell painted “Revolutionary (Angela Davis),” tapping into his own power and skills as an artist to amplify the message and mission of the Black Power and Civil Rights movements by dynamically depicting political activist and leader Angela Davis.

Also in 1971, Gil Scott-Heron famously recorded “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” using his power and skills as a musician to passionately address, fortify and amplify the very same movements.

The last line in the song presciently lays out a deeper truth – “The Revolution Will Be Live” – because for any moment to turn into a lasting movement that culminates in systemic change, we all have to “be live.” To harness, hone and offer on our own unique power and skills to the greater mission.

Last week Tedx speaker, performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward”contributor Dena Crowder offered a six-minute “Power Shot” with guiding words and an exercise to help release and transform trauma into energy to fuel us forward.

Today, Dena (pictured above with Jarell’s painting) offers a five-minute “Power Shot” to help focus on tapping into and staying connected to our own inner power and skills and using them to guide our actions as we navigate the political and societal sea change ahead of us. Watch:

Like that? You can also check out Dena’s three-minute video designed to help maintain our mental health and wellness.

Tedx Speaker Dena Crowder Offers 6-Minute Guide on Transforming Trauma (WATCH)

Ahmaud Arbery.

Breonna Taylor.

George Floyd.

Three people we have recently witnessed dying violently, people who died solely because as African Americans, their lives are not valued in this country.

Tragically, this horror is not new. Arbery, Taylor and Floyd are now part of a sickeningly long chain of Black people in the United States to lose their lives to systemic racism, brutality and hate.

A recent article in USA Today titled “George Floyd Video Adds to Trauma: ‘When Is The Last Time You Saw a White Person Killed Online?'” addresses what those who have been experiencing it already know: African Americans are suffering greatly from constantly watching these acts of racial violence play out month after month year after year.

To quote:

“African Americans face harmful mental health effects every time high-profile incidents of racism and police brutality go viral, especially when little changes in the aftermath.”

Combined with a global pandemic, healthcare disparities and a financial crisis, African Americans are currently coping with exponential levels of trauma that will likely not dissipate any time soon.

So what can we do to protect ourselves as we bear these trying times, especially when community and family gatherings are so severely limited?

Last week, in honor of Mental Health Awareness MonthTedx speaker, performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder offered a three-minute video as an aide for mental health and wellness.

Today, Dena offers a six-minute “Power Shot” with guiding words and an exercise to help release and transform trauma into energy to fuel us forward. Watch:

(Dena Crowder: DenaCrowder.com; IG: dena.crowder)

Dena Crowder (photo courtesy Dena Crowder)

Tedx Speaker Dena Crowder Offers 3-Minute Guide On Our Mental Health and Well-Being During the Pandemic (WATCH)

May is Mental Health Awareness Month in the U.S., and in the age of the coronavirus pandemic, many of us are finding our mental well-being challenged in unexpected, extraordinary ways.

Black and Brown Americans are hit hard by both – first by disproportionately suffering the physical and financial effects of the COVID-19 crisis, on top of being, according to Medical News Today, more likely to suffer higher rates of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) than White Americans.

According to studies by the American Psychological Association (APA), minorities experience a significant degree of marginalization and discrimination, which can stifle socioeconomic growth as well as access to healthcare, including formal mental health support.

So, in the spirit of aiding those who don’t have the opportunity, access to, or much time for mental healthcare, Tedx speaker, performance coach and GBN’s “This Way Forward” contributor Dena Crowder has put together a three-minute “Power Shot” with some guiding words and a quick breath exercise that can help you re-center in these overwhelming times:

Enjoy… and breathe!

(Dena Crowder: DenaCrowder.com; IG: dena.crowder)

Dena Crowder (photo courtesy Dena Crowder)

"Woman In The Mirror": GBN Editor Lori Lakin Hutcherson’s Personal Essay on Women, Power and Leadership

by Lori Lakin Hutcherson via dumbofeather.com

Ever since I was four years old, I remember feeling powerless. I didn’t know it by name then, but looking back, powerlessness is what drove me every night, after I slid under my Raggedy Ann sheets and comforter, to wish and pray that when I woke up, I’d wake up a boy. Not because I felt like a boy inside, but because boys got to have what I couldn’t. Hair that didn’t have to be detangled or combed or braided. Action figures instead of dolls. Race cars with race tracks and pants to play in—always pants. In my four-year-old mind, boys had everything. Freedom. Choices. Power. Pants. But every morning like clockwork, the sun rose, I looked down, and I was denied yet again by The Man Upstairs. I was still Team Pink. I was still a girl.

I wore my disappointment more stoically than my dresses, because somehow I knew this was not a conversation to be had with either parent, or even my big sister (who was obsessed with boys in the acceptable way—with crushes and smiles and day dates to ice skating shows). I didn’t know how to voice the palpable inequity I was absorbing from our society, my culture, the media. That boys were considered the stronger, smarter, faster sex, who should be deferred to and in control. What I couldn’t find words for, but knew from the tips of my bobble ball hair ties to the soles of my patent leather Mary Janes, was that the way girls were devalued wasn’t fair, square or remotely close to justified.

Girls were just as smart and fast and valuable as boys—and once in a while, in between ads for EZ bake ovens and hungry toy babies and household products that would save me from a lifetime of dishpan hands, my TV echoed parts of this truth to me. I saw the “Bionic Woman” and “Wonder Woman” and Billie Jean King with the big glasses and small tennis racket beat the old, blustering Bobby guy in “The Battle of the Sexes.” And then there was Nadia from Romania who proved her ability at the Montreal Olympics, though her dainty and pretty were remarked upon more often than her athleticism and artistry. Even after her repeated displays of superlativeness, she stood there, half-smiling, as they gave most of the credit to her male coach. They might not have been black like me but they were girls like me, girls who liked to rip and run and use their bodies and brains for something other than to attract boys.

In my home, the messages were similarly mixed. My mom had a job just like my dad did. And as a teacher, when I went to work with her, I got to see a woman in charge. Of the space, the lessons, the students. I saw her leadership there, as well as in the house. Mom had as much authority as Dad (if not more) and my dad did the cooking. And since both parents were college graduates and educators, my sister and I were expected to do well in school, go to college and have a career.
Mom even gave my sister and me “School Years” memory books so we could track our progress from Kindergarten through High School. Who our friends and teachers were, our activities, awards, and what we wanted to be when we grew up. This aid to success ended up being one of the most painful reminders of the limited expectations the world had for me. The occupations listed for “Boys”? Policeman, Fireman, Astronaut, Soldier, Cowboy, Baseball Player. But for “Girls”? Mother, Nurse, School Teacher, Airline Hostess, Model, Secretary. In that order.

There was a “fill in the blank” space, so every year from Kinder on I filled it in with “Doctor.” By third grade, someone with a pink marker lined through my “Doctor” and checked “Secretary” instead. I rebelled with my blue marker and rubbed over the pink check next to “Secretary.” I didn’t remember this until I recently found the book, but it spoke volumes that someone in my life thought I was fantasizing if I wanted to be a doctor. In 1976. The same year of the U.S. Bicentennial, 200 years after independence from tyranny was declared and where colonists believed their liberty was worth their death. I, too, was fighting for liberty. My liberty. I wanted Batman, not Barbie, and I was tired of feeling wrong about it.

Years pass, and compliments about my cuteness are directed to me instead of my parents. I didn’t do anything to be cute—DNA did that—so this always feels weird. My mum tells me to not question or argue but just say “thank you.” Dutifully, I do. But being valued solely this way never sits right with me. I wanted “boy-style” compliments, about how clever or strong or skilled at whatever I was—praise that felt earned. I did receive some of this from the adults in my life, right alongside advice like, “Always have bus money so you don’t have to depend on boys for rides,” or, “No one buys the cow if the milk is free,” or, “It’s just as easy to marry a rich man as it is a poor one.”

When my parents separate and divorce, this family fracture ironically gets me more of what I want. Guilt presents include video games and model cars and Star Wars toys. And pants—jeans and corduroys! My mom says when she was younger, she was a tomboy too. She enrolls my sister (and eventually me) in softball, and buys me books about skateboarding but stops short of the skateboard—she thinks I will fall and break my head. If I were a boy, I think, she’d let me break my head. I try to build my own with a plank of wood and wheels from Mom’s ancient metal roller skates. It travels six inches, I fall off and it falls apart. When my dad gets a housekeeper for his new townhouse, she cleans my room and asks him how old his son is. Suddenly Dad won’t buy me any more model cars.

As puberty dawns, boys are still getting the better deal. Most of them grow into muscles and height and undeniable physical dominance. But should this give them more rights? Should more strength automatically equal more power? Boys (and several girls) seem to think so and this thinking is validated at every turn. In government, in movies, in the workplace, in classrooms. They can pick up girls at random and the girls squeal and laugh and cajole the boys to put them down instead of throwing them into the ocean/pool/sofa cushions. All in good fun, right? Not at all a display or reminder of dominance, right? Boys get to act on crushes and initiate kisses and ask for dates without being considered “fast” or “sluts” or “whores.” They also get no periods, no pregnancies, no abortions.

I am handed deodorant, pads and Judy Blume books as my teenage girl starter kit. I dislike the changes and growing pains and expectations of “blossoming into a young woman.” I focus on grades instead of gregariousness—studying instead of a social life. My big sister Lesa, a natural at young womanhood, follows in our grandmother and mother’s kick steps and becomes a varsity cheerleader. I scoff and diminish her choice by saying I’d rather be who people cheer for. Because some girls make fun of other girls for being too “girly.” I do not see the insidious danger of this for decades.

By 1986 I am a senior in high school, and being in the “smart girl” category has been a boon for me. I am not offered a cent for a cute outfit or a good hair day, but Dad pays good money for As and Bs. I also get to wear pants and sneakers and no make up everyday and no one cares. Mom and Lesa are officially the “pretty girls” with pretty power and that is alright by me. I have no jealousy or longing for “pretty” status— though most girls aspire to this, it seems more like a curse than a gift to me. Yes, my mother and sister get preferential treatment and constant compliments, which they enjoy. But I also see them experience the flip side. Men and boys would stalk them both. Put their hands on them without permission. Recklessly follow after them in traffic. This was weekly if not daily for them; for me it was rarely, but it should have been never. It should always be never. But as 99 percent of girls and women will tell you, it’s never never. I am approached by a pimp on a bus who tells me I look sad and he can take care of me. I exit at the next stop and walk the extra mile home to escape him. I am told to smile more times than I am asked for my opinion. One afternoon I’m followed by a man who screams I should be walking behind him and don’t know my place. I run into a 7-11 and stay huddled near the Ms. Pacman machine until he disappears. Oh hell no. Screw being treated like prey. Screw pretty.

Instead I want to be strong and quick. And thanks to Title IX, I can put my body in service to sports—softball, basketball, cross country. I do them all and excel at none. I am average in every way, but the existence of these girls’ teams does not live or die by any one of us having to prove exceptional ability. We have the freedom to suck and stay funded, just like the boys’ teams. This makes me wonder if society needs a version of Title IX not just for the sports field, but for every field. Shouldn’t we demand and legislate programs that provide equal opportunity for both sexes everywhere? So then over time, like with sports, this parity would become the norm? Why not try this out in politics, I think—like maybe in the Senate? After all, there are 100 senators, two from each state, so why not make them 50:50, one male and one female? Wouldn’t that be true equal representation? But I don’t know what to do with these notions, so I keep them to myself. What kind of power do I have to make them happen, anyway? I don’t my want my “smart girl” rep to become a “naive, silly, pie-in-the-sky girl” rep.

High school also offers me a lifelong mentor in the unlikely form of tough-as-nails, no nonsense, AP U.S. history teacher Mr. Safier. He values effort, intelligence and discipline above gender, race, class… or anything else, really. Finally I am celebrated for what I believe counts. Safier is more than safe harbor. He is an equalizer. After repeatedly killing it in his classes, one boy writes in my senior yearbook he’s lived in academic fear of me for almost two years. I love this. Now I have proof. Brains are my field-levelling power. And they are what get me into a top-notch university.

At first, college feels different than high school—better—like there is gender parity. Like “smart” is all that matters. Smart whomevers travel to Boston from wherever to spend four focused years getting smarter. But then the parties start. The blue lights, safety phones and shuttle bus stops are pointed out. Boys casually notice, girls mark their maps. We have political debates. Ideological tangles. We openly protest to take back the night. I make male and female friends of every race and religion and orientation and it all feels equitable and the way the real world should be. I don’t shave my legs all winter. I march with the Black Student Union to the freshman quad to demand I don’t remember what from the Dean. One Christmas I fly home sporting fake Malcolm X glasses, leather Africa medallions and a lot of opinions. My dad picks me up at the airport and later asks everyone in the family but me if I’m a lesbian. Dressed like that, politicized like that, with my “tomboy” history—what else could I be?

What my father does ask me about is what I want to do after college. Whatever it is, I’m told, I should want my boss’ job. That’s where the power is. If you don’t want your boss’ job, you have the wrong job. So if I still want to be a doctor, become Chief of Surgery. If I want to teach, become Teacher of the Year. I do journalism for fun at college because there’s no television station, so I tell him maybe I want to write. Then, Dad says, become the publisher. He sends me articles on mastery and how to achieve it. The bar is set high—as high for me as for the boy he never had, I think, so I accept his challenge. I try to jump that high. Into top positions. Into leadership. Into power.

Unlike Dad though, I think public sector work is for the birds, even when in the “power position.” Dad had achieved that – he rose from community college counsellor to assistant Dean, Dean (the youngest dean in California ever at the time), Vice President, President, then Chancellor of an entire district. He was the top dog, the leader. But then sometimes he would say if he were in the private sector, he would be a CEO making ten times as much money. But it just so happened his heart was in education, and he chose it over what could have been real wealth. Another mixed message I struggled to process. Go for heart or for money or for power? And do they have to be separate?

My power equation, I came to realize, extended beyond my father’s. Mine was leadership, plus affinity, plus money. And, luckily, I told myself, my heart was in writing—television to be specific—a very lucrative field. (Journalism, I’d discovered, paid even less than teaching). So I told him I wanted to follow the Hollywood path. I wanted to come back to California. Come back home.