MASK IS HOSTING FREE FAMILY TREE FEBRUARY

MASK will be hosting free genealogy clinics in person and online for the entire month of February. It’s time. The mission of MASK is to stop violence and killing and to challenge ourselves to constantly come up with more innovative solutions. 

While we’re still pushing for speed bumps on the block and fulfilling as many of the needs of the community as we can, we know that it's still not enough. 

They say if you want to change what's around, you must first change what's inside of you. That could be difficult if you don’t know what that is.

  This is why a specialized education can play a huge role in combating violence. The majority of community service is education and connection. Reading, writing, and arithmetic are all very important and are undoubtedly taught in some of the same classrooms where we learned them. However, on the block, we plan on making knowledge of ourselves and how we came to be wherever we are in this country a top priority.

The story of Black people is as unique as that of other groups. Yet, it's often reduced to slavery, freedom, the civil rights movement, and now Barak Obama. There's more to us and our history than that. 

 Other communities don’t suffer the level of human loss that we do because they belong to someone or a people, and membership in that group comes with a level of responsibility to preserve their history, teach their children that history, and charge their children with taking their people into the future. Each community member is important because they have been entrusted with growing their community. Everyone has value.

  Other cultures make their history central to their identities and communities. Their history is often tied to their survival. They never forget. We’re just the opposite. We don’t know the history, and if we do, it doesn’t have much value.

Meanwhile, we’re celebrating other people's heritage and holidays. While not paying very much attention to our own. Juneteenth is great, but it’s not the day many former enslaved people learned about their emancipation. Other formerly enslaved people were just as jubilant the day they found out they were free. Those stories are part of the histories of some of us, and they are important, too. Not just the ones that Congress has given us a day off to “observe.”   

The Black community is missing a common story and history that we can center our communities around. This project makes it personal. It approaches the issue of gun violence unconventionally. Genealogical research is quite personal because it clarifies why we are the way we are. 

 The problem isn’t only the guns. It’s why we need them in the first place. We don’t know each other anymore, and that makes us feel fearful and paranoid.

 If we knew our history, we would know that those emotions used to be reserved for those who enslaved us. 

They were the ones who wronged us and constantly feared uprisings and retribution.

  Why did we have to be fearful or paranoid of what we might do to one another? Especially when you consider the slave who damaged another slave could be beaten, sold off, or even killed for harming the property of a white slaveholder.

That was their job. But somehow, now it's ours?

 We used to be in this together. We had an enemy but it wasn’t each other. 

When the knowledge of our history and our own story no longer exists in your consciousness because it's been erased and you’ve been convinced it doesn’t matter, someone else's stories and all the things that come with it will occupy that space. 

That is one of the main reasons we kill each other.

  Learning about one's history could once again familiarize us and our children with each other. 

You may find out your difficult neighbor is actually a relative, and we have more in common than we previously thought. This project can go a long way to helping kids with no family who may be wards of the state. Perhaps they find out the opp that they’re contemplating shooting or vice versa, maybe kin? It may save both lives? It could potentially give a kid who has been alone in the world for so long an actual family and not just a gang that acts as a surrogate.

So much of our personal information and the vital stories that tell us who we are and who we’re connected to have been hidden away from us, and our children are dying because of it. 

This is us doing what we do best: trying to find solutions. Summer will be back soon. We’ll still want our speed bumps to accompany our lights and cameras. People will still be screaming for shot spotter and they’ll put more police on the street. Will that work? We don’t know. But we do know we can’t say we did or are doing everything we can if we’re not battling this issue from every angle, even this one. So please take advantage of this free opportunity, FREE y'all, to improve yourself and your community. Knowing where you come from shouldn't be a privilege. It's a right! 

Sign up today!

Are you better of than you were 48 years ago?

   There was a time in my life when people asked me my age, and I told them that I was born during the Carter administration. That was funny to me for so many reasons. One of them was because some people had no idea when that was or my fave, when some beautiful fool would ask if that was my last name. Cute. It told me a lot about who they were, but it wouldn’t become meaningful until much later that a sixteen-year-old girl from the hood knew who Jimmy Carter was and when he was the President. 

One of my earliest memories is of when Carter faced off against Reagan. The way it was talked about in my house made Reagan sound like a monster, and he was to my community. Until his party would one day spurn even bigger, badder monsters. 

I remember when Reagan took the oath of office, and then hostages were released, and my uncle railed about how Reagan took credit for Carter's work. I wasn’t even three years old yet. But, my family talked politics more than anything else when I was growing up, much like we do now. And perhaps I can’t remember exactly, or I’ve watched tv clips and heard vivid retellings? What I do know is that this country and my community would take a drastic turn after that day. 

Black women would be labeled “Welfare Queens”. We’d learn that only urine trickles down, and my community, still reeling from COINTELPRO, would be hit with a bomb called the crack epidemic that still produces victims to this day. 

I know some will have a problem with my recollections of the Reagan era, but you didn’t come from where I did. For you, “crack babies” were the subject of salacious articles in the NYT or WaPo. For me, they were the shame of my neighbors. And the problem was always those who sold the drugs and not the ones who let them in. Some families could lose loved ones to drug addiction and the street violence that came with selling it. 

Meanwhile, the first Jimmy Carter work project would be held in NYC, and he would start building. 

The accomplishments and selfless work of the man during whose presidency I would enter the world always inspired me, especially as he aged. His example may be part of why I started an organization designed to help people.

 At a time when many of us still struggle to find purpose and relevance, he was building his 100,00th house! 

As I got older, being born during his administration became a massive source of pride.

Americans can debate the merits of his accomplishments while he was president, but no one can ever challenge the fact that the presidency wasn’t his last or most defining act.

It was the concern for humanity that he would still show long after votes no longer mattered. 

Because of Jimmy Carter I am in no rush to run for office, if ever. Party affiliations and backroom deals can hinder you. It can make you “obstinate,” “difficult to work with,” and “unproductive.” The White House took much away from the life of someone like him, but he got every minute of it back by building homes for others. 

At this moment, I think we should all ask ourselves if we’re better off now than we were 48 years ago. Some may say no, but others, pondering the question under a roof built by the hands and heart of the 39th President of the United States, may disagree.

Same day. Same time. Next year.

Eight Years ago, we hosted a holiday party in the basement of a local church. It was marvelous. There were dozens of children, and to our delight, there were even more toys. It was also the year that MASK received the deed to our new home. 

After the party, we found ourselves still in possession of lots of toys. There was no Ash then. He would have benefitted tremendously from our surplus!

We called around to children's hospitals, women's shelters, and churches, but not many people answered, and the ones who did told us they had more than enough, so our contribution wasn't needed. 

Christmas day comes, and we still have all of these toys.  

My mom, a couple of friends, and one of my cousins- I'm certain everyone knows which one- head out on Christmas morning. And it was pre-climate change cold out. 

We planned to drive around until we found a church that could use our donation. Ironically enough, we couldn't find a church open at 11 am on Christmas morning! Who knew? 

So, we're driving aimlessly at this point, and then we see a man walking down the street with these two little girls. Again, it's freezing outside. 

I yell out of the window, “ Do you all want some new toys?” The kids scream in the affirmative.  I put my car in park, put on my blinkers, and jumped out of the car with an arm full of toys for these two little girls. Their father thanks us profusely.  Traffic is kinda messed up for a minute, but it's Christmas and freezing, so who cares? These kids are warm. And that's all that matters. 

I get back in the car, and we decide that we're going to go where people, like the guy with two little girls, are. We're going to go where people need the most help. 

We pulled up in front of a dollar store where a young man walking by told us that he wasn't going to be allowed to see his children that day because he didn't have any presents for them, and what we gave him made it possible for him to be with his family that day. We were then told to head east to the south shore, where there were tons of poor people in large apartment buildings.  That's where we were off to next. 

When we got there, it was just as we were told it was. Lots of people needed help but didn't trust outsiders. Instead of ringing doorbells, knocking on windows, or invading their space. We parked on a main street and let the curious come and check us out. We were fresh out of toys in about 15 minutes. 

This would change the way we would do Christmas from then on.

One of the lessons we learned was sometimes when people say they don't have it, they really don't. We threw a party and had toys left over, but maybe that was because some parents didn't have bus fare or gas money. They may have had to work multiple jobs. We don't know what the circumstances of others may be. So, sometimes we have to go to them. 

And that's what we've done for the last eight years. 

Our giving circle and caravan have grown exponentially in the last few years. The majority of the toys we give away each year don’t come from houses of worship or elected officials. It comes from the “unlisted”—people who claim no religion or are just religion adjacent. 

We don’t just get contributions from the people who can quote the bible cover to cover. We get them from everyday average people who still struggle with their humanity and good and bad inclinations. 

Sometimes, when we go to Temple, Church, Mosque, etc., we believe because of our attendance or some other superficial reason, we are as good as we’re going to get, and paying tithes and showing up on weekends is enough. It’s not. We’re only as good as the amount of engagement we have with a problematic world that constantly challenges us.

We often do great alone or when we’re separated from the world. It’s easy. It’s not hard to deal with people with whom you have lots in common. They don’t test you.

 It’s the ones who are never satisfied. The ones who say, yes, you gave, but not enough. It’s those who still will accept your goodwill while at the same time implying you may worship Satan and be suffering from an identity crisis because you’re Black but not Christian. It’s the ones who don’t seem to even know the meaning of the word gratitude. Those people try you. They make you walk the talk. And while they may be irritating to no end, they’re necessary. 

They show us who we really are, and if we’re as patient with others as we’re taught, G-d is with us.

Every year, no matter what happens or how we are tested, I am honored to be part of a group that still shows up. 

Our caravan has grown so much that we’re weighing whether we will turn it into a full-blown parade next year. Can you imagine a parade, with alternating routes every year, going through the most blighted neighborhoods on Christmas morning with Santa, multiple DJs, and thousands of gifts for all of the children along the route? That would be epic.

 Chicago could use some more good days and every year, the people who show up to donate, drive, knock on doors, and pass out gifts create them. I could thank the people who showed up and made some kid's Christmas unforgettable, but that seems too small. Maybe there’s no need for a thank you. We just owe each other another year. They didn’t do it for me, and I didn't do it for them. We did it for the kids, and that’s what we’re all committed to. 

See y’all next Christmas (and others in a few weeks for giveaway day)!