Monthly Archives: May 2022

What economic development can learn from one community-supported, Black-owned jazz restaurant in Boston.

So many things could have gone wrong with the vacant storefront at the historic former Ferdinand Furniture store building in Bostons predominantly-Black Roxbury neighborhood.

Historically, a lot has already gone wrong in the area. Redlining the pattern of racial discrimination in lending allowed homes, apartment buildings and commercial buildings in Roxbury to decline. Redlining also means small businesses in the area have long had trouble accessing loans or other investment capital to grow. Racial discrimination in city contracting locked out many Roxbury businesses from the reliable income of a City Hall contract. Racial discrimination in hiring, wage-setting and promotions held back many of the areas working age adults in the job market not to mention the disproportionate impact of mass incarceration on Black communities.

That pattern could have continued within the former Ferdinand Furniture storefront. The surrounding community could have been ignored or brought in to participate in endless community meetings to voice their dreams for the space, only to learn later it was all just for show and they were never taken seriously in the first place. A developer or real estate brokerage with zero ties to the community might have gone behind the communitys back to line up a tenant, based on whatever financial analysis determined to be the highest and best use for the space, community voices be damned.

The tenant coming in could have been a national restaurant chain, or a private equity-backed restaurant concept by a celebrity chef whos never visited Roxbury before. Profits from the restaurant, generated in part out of the cultural cache of the location, might be sent thousands of miles away to a bank account held in an overseas tax haven.

But instead of continuing that pattern, the former Ferdinand Furniture storefront will soon open its doors as the brand new Jazz Urbane Caf, a sit-down restaurant and performing arts space that will feature local musicians and other artists. Its the kind of cultural and community gathering space, which residents in the area have dreamed of for years. The all-Black Jazz Urbane founders have deep ties to Roxbury.

What makes this project unique is that the community didnt just say it wants Jazz Urbane; it voted to put some of its own wealth at risk for the business. Through the Boston Ujima Project, members of the surrounding community recently voted to approve a six-figure investment to make the community itself a part-owner of Jazz Urbane Caf. So the community will also receive a share of the wealth generated if it all works out on top of gaining a cultural landmark restaurant and performance space to showcase its artists and provide jobs for some of its residents. For Nia Grace, born and raised in Roxbury and part of the Jazz Urbane founding team, its a powerful moment.

I always think about things kind of being full circle, Grace says. I did not have the privilege and honor to know what it looked like when the building was active. It was always something I just wondered about. It needed more investment, more love and more care. I love being able to come home and nurture something that was such a big part of my childhood.

A History of Disinvestment

Its not just about the outcome. The process of how the community got here matters even more.

Too often in neighborhoods like Roxbury, disinvestment goes beyond the mere lack of capital; theres also a mutual distrust between the neighborhood and mainstream institutions. These neighborhoods dont trust the public or private sector to work for their benefit. Mainstream public or private sector institutions also often dont trust members of these communities to provide worthwhile ideas for development projects.

Some disinvested communities have turned to making outside developers negotiate community benefit agreements promising jobs, housing or other benefits to communities surrounding major projects. But the track record of those agreements has been spotty at best. One of the most heralded early examples, the Kingsbridge National Ice Center in the Bronx, has yet to produce a single actual benefit and is now hanging in limbo as the project has completely stalled. After 10 years, the developers never successfully raised the needed funds to get started, and the city recently terminated the redevelopment contract with the developer group who signed the community benefit agreement.

Writing in Architects Newspaper about new city-backed development projects in Chicagos historically disinvested neighborhoods, architectural critic Anjulie Rao says, After decades of disinvestment instilled a sense of distrust, these neighborhoods dont just need new developments they need the city to lead reparative processes.

A reparative process starts with recognizing that history of disinvestment, acknowledging it was intentional on the part of the public and private sector players who perpetrated it, that it was tied largely to racism, and that it is a painful history but also more than a painful history. The people who lived in and still live in these neighborhoods have joyful memories of these places, too, and there are elements that help keep those joyful memories alive like the former Ferdinand Furniture store facade, which loomed large over the Dudley Square intersection for decades even after the store closed in the 1970s. It was vacant, yes, but it was and remains a beautiful building.

Like many other young Black children growing up in Boston, Grace remembers going shopping with her mother on Saturday mornings in Dudley Square: at department stores, street vendors lining the sidewalks, or A Nubian Notion, a landmark family-owned convenience store and boutique. The area was once known as Bostons other downtown. Dudley Square had an elevated rail station until 1987, and still has one of the largest bus stations in the city where more than a dozen bus routes connect.

Going Down Dudley is what we used to call it, Grace says. [The Ferdinand Furniture building] was definitely a cornerstone of the neighborhood, but it looked shuttered.

It hasnt been a linear process to revitalize the former Ferdinand Furniture storefront, but there has been a common thread tying the pieces together: neighborhood, city and investors learning to trust each other as equal participants in the development process. The neighborhood had ideas and aspirations; the city took them seriously, and they inspired even a few outside investors to invest some of their dollars in line with those ideas.

Keeping the Neighborhood Involved

The redevelopment moved slowly, and it helped keep the neighborhood involved at every step. All the way back in 2006, then-Mayor Thomas Menino raised the idea of redeveloping Dudley Square, including the former Ferdinand Furniture building, according to Architects Newspaper.

The city already owned much of the property at the site, but the emerging designs led to the city acquiring two additional small buildings via eminent domain in 2011. The handful of small businesses didnt like being displaced, but, as reported in the Bay State Banner, community-based organizations in the neighborhood supported the move even though they had their own painful memories of eminent domain being used to clear out large swaths of Black neighborhoods to clear a path for highways.

By 2015, the city had completed the new construction and the restoration of the historic facades at the site. According to general contractor Shawmut, 41% of construction workers for the project were Boston Residents and 44.9% were workers of color. The city moved its education department into the building, bringing hundreds of workers to the neighborhood daily.

The combined new and restored structure was renamed the Bruce C. Bolling Municipal Building, after the citys first Black City Council president. A smaller cafe and other tenants moved into first-floor spaces, paying below-market rents as required by the buildings federal New Markets Tax Credit financing. But the former Ferdinand Furniture storefront remained vacant.

In the meantime, a group of residents from Roxbury and Bostons other predominantly-Black neighborhoods Dorchester, Mattapan and Jamaica Plain began meeting regularly to talk about how to model a democratic economy, one that would respond to their needs. It came to be called the Boston Ujima Project ujima being a Swahili word and one of the seven Kwanzaa principles, understood to mean collective work and responsibility.

Since its first general assembly in 2017, which Next City covered at the time, the Boston Ujima Project has spent much of its energy coming up with ways to telegraph to neighbors and to those outside their communities what they like in their neighborhoods, finding out what investments might be needed to maintain those things, and also determining what they would like to have in their neighborhoods in the future.

Privileged and credentialed technocrats might recognize all that as part of the work of urban planning. Ujima members have held neighborhood assemblies, citywide assemblies, and attended regular convenings held by other community organizing groups across the city to invite more residents of their communities to discuss, and ultimately vote on, investment plans for their neighborhoods.

Sit-down restaurants and performing arts spaces have come up frequently on top of the Boston Ujima Project wishlist. Roxbury residents had long been calling for performance spaces and sit-down restaurants in their once-booming Nubian Square. So it was no surprise to anyone when the city finally put out an RFP in 2017 for the 7,800 square-foot former Ferdinand Furniture storefront, calling for a wide range of businesses including a restaurant, a major performance space or a meeting space.

Musician Turned Owner

It was a pleasant surprise that the citys economic development agency leadership was among the first to reach out to Bill Banfield to encourage him to submit a proposal for the former Ferdinand Furniture storefront.

A Detroit native, Banfield first moved to Boston in the 1980s, landing a job teaching music at Madison Park High School, just a few blocks from Dudley Square. An accomplished jazz producer, composer and guitarist in his own right, Banfield eventually took a page out of Motown founder Berry Gordys book and borrowed some cash from his parents to start his own recording label.

Banfields work took him away from Boston for a while, but he eventually returned to take a professor position at Bostons world-famous Berklee College of Music. Around that time, in the late 2000s, he started collaborating with Nia Grace to reinvigorate the local jazz performance scene in Boston. They started at Darryls, where Grace was still just a manager. She acquired the restaurant in 2018.

While Darryls is technically in Roxbury, its at the very northern edge of the neighborhood. Banfield dreamed of something bigger to draw people to the commercial heart of historic Black Boston, now known as Nubian Square. The city officially renamed the square in 2019, a tribute to the broader notion of Nubia, a region of the African continent, being symbolic of the areas Black heritage.

Darryls had certainly been an important place, and there were other places but we didnt have the kind of mainstream venue that, say, Scullers represented for Cambridge, Banfield says. Boston really needed it.

The city awarded the space to Banfield and the Jazz Urbane Caf concept in 2018. It also set up the restaurant venue with a performance-based lease its rent payments are a percentage of monthly revenue. Its not uncommon for private landlords with storefront spaces to make such agreements with commercial tenants, but no one had ever heard of the city government doing it.

It was really the city thinking innovatively and realizing if you want homegrown businesses to occupy prime commercial space, they would need that kind of assistance, on the lease and in some other regards, as well, says Turahn Dorsey, the third member of the Jazz Urbane founding team. They saw the possibilities from the very beginning.

Another transplant from Detroit and a former student of Banfield, Dorsey is also no stranger to city government, nor to the Bolling Municipal Building. He worked there from 2014 to 2018 during his tenure as chief of education for the City of Boston.

The Neighborhood Wants In

But even after securing the space, Jazz Urbane still needs to raise startup capital to finance its buildout and working capital to open its doors. In the middle of this process, the pandemic hit in 2020, putting everything on hold temporarily. As theyve re-started the search for startup capital, the three founders made sure to come back to one of the first places they initially went to find investors the Boston Ujima Project.

In addition to planning out some of the investments theyd like to see in their neighborhoods, the Boston Ujima Project also manages a small pool of investment capital to actually make some of those investments. Some of the funds come from community members in Roxbury, Dorchester and Mattapan, but the bulk of the dollars come from high-net-worth individuals and philanthropic institutions elsewhere in Boston and beyond. The voting members of Ujima, however, have the final say in making investments, and Ujima limits its voting power to members who are Boston residents identifying as working class and/or as a person of color, or a working class and/or person of color who has been displaced from the city. This setup flips the usual dynamic of the folks with the most money having the most power over investment dollars.

In April, after listening to the Jazz Urbane Caf founders make their pitch, asking questions and reviewing the business plan, Ujima voting members approved a $200,000 investment to take a 3.29% ownership stake in the business. Also known as an equity investment, it is riskier than making a loan, but the potential payoff can be much higher. Its the first equity investment for the Boston Ujima Project, and while its just a small ownership stake, there are larger implications.

Usually, this kind of early-stage equity investment is only accessible to people who are already wealthy for example, the investors on the popular Shark Tank television series. But by pooling investment capital from multiple sources as a fund, Boston Ujima Project found a way to bring working-class communities of color as investors into an early-stage equity investment. And the Jazz Urbane Caf founders want to provide an example for others from Black communities in Boston to follow, whether its through Ujima or other new channels for not-so-wealthy individuals or individuals of color to make early-stage equity investments in local businesses.

They were among the first we went to in part because we knew that we wanted strong representation by investors of color in Jazz Urbane Caf, Dorsey says. Certainly other people will be welcome to the house, but weve long wanted something for ourselves and were not waiting for permission from traditional capital to do the things weve long wanted to do.

Oscar is Next City's senior economics correspondent. He previously served asNext Citys editor from2018-2019, and was a Next City Equitable Cities Fellow from 2015-2016. Since 2011, Oscar has covered community development finance,community banking, impact investing, economic development, housingand more for media outlets suchas Shelterforce, B Magazine, Impact Alpha, and Fast Company.

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Boston Neighborhood Finally Gets the Business It Wants - And Invests in It Too - Next City

Governor KathyHochuland New York City Mayor Eric Adams today announced the launch of "New" New York blue-ribbon panel to examine the future of New York City and the region's economy, to be led by co-chairs Robin Hood CEO RichardBueryand former Sidewalk Labs CEO DanielDoctoroff. The "New" New York panel one of 70 concrete proposals Mayor Adams first announced in his"Rebuild, Renew,ReinventBlueprint for New York City's Economic Recovery"plan in March will develop actionable strategies for the resurgence and resilience of the city's commercial districts. The initiative also builds upon GovernorHochul'sambitious 2022 State of the State agenda and fiscal year 2023 New York State budget, which made historic investments to advance economic opportunity for New Yorkers across all communities.

"It is critical that we find new, innovative solutions to move New York's economy forward as we continue to build back better than ever from the COVID pandemic,"GovernorHochulsaid. "The 'New' New York panel is laying the groundwork today to usher in a brighter tomorrow, and their expertise will help support bold initiatives in every corner of the state. I thank RichardBueryand DanDoctorofffor leading this effort, and look forward to working with them tocreatea New Era for New York."

"While our city continues to add jobs at a faster rate than the rest of the country, we have more work to do to ensure all New Yorkers can access family sustaining careers,"said Mayor Adams. "The experts on our 'New' New York panel will identify actionable strategies to build a more equitable economy, reimagine our central business districts, and prepare our city to lead in the industries of the future. I am extremely pleased to have RichardBueryand DanDoctorofflending their experience and creativity to this critical effort."

The panel's recommendations will focus on how and where people work as well as the mix and use of space in key employment centers, with a goal of minimizing vacancy, catalyzing vibrancy, and bolstering the tax base. It will also inform New York City's path to an inclusive economic recovery with increased opportunities for New Yorkers to thrive in family-sustaining jobs.

Empire State Development Commissioner, President, and CEO Hope Knightsaid,"The economy of our region and the nation depend on a strong, vibrant, resilient New York. The 'New' New York panel convened by GovernorHochuland Mayor Adams includes some of the brightest and most determined New Yorkers, who with theircollective experience and expertise will undoubtedly provide a thoughtful, actionable blueprint to expand New York's economy and ensure it provides opportunity for all."

New York City Deputy Mayor for Economic and Workforce Development Maria TorresSpringer said,"As we continue to rebuild our economy in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, we have a responsibility to make sure all New Yorkers can share in the promise and opportunity of our city. A truly equitable recovery will require coordinated efforts from both the city and the state and the 'New' New York Panel will provide us with a concrete roadmap for that collaboration. I look forward to working with RichardBueryand DanDoctoroffin the months ahead as they lead this diverse group of experts."

New York City Economic Development Corporation President and CEO Andrew Kimballsaid,"There's no place that is more innovative and primed for equitable economic growth than New York City. I am thrilled GovernorHochuland Mayor Adams are convening the 'New' New York panel, and I am confident that their recommendations will improve the quality of life for all New Yorkers while also supporting the ways people will live and work in the future."

Richard R.Buery, Jr.said,"New York City has always found new ways to reinvent itself, and the post-COVID era will be no different, because New York's dynamism, ambition, and entrepreneurial spirit cannot be matched.The central question for the future is not if New York will rebound but how and who will get to participate. How we reimagine our region's economy and who we create new opportunities for will determine our city's future competitiveness. Creating vibrant centers for commerce throughout the city underscores our commitment to inclusiveness and equity while positioning New York City as an engine of opportunity for all New Yorkers and our economy, a global example of how to foster universal prosperity."

DanielDoctoroffsaid,"After 9/11, we rethought andreplannedcentral business districts across the city in Hudson Yards, Lower Manhattan, Downtown Brooklyn, Long Island City, Harlem, Flushing, and Jamaica. Never would I have thought that we would need to do it again, just two decades later. But work is changing, technology is opening new opportunities forplacemaking, and we can be far more intentional about the way in which we connect people to opportunity. The one thing about New York that hasn't changed is we are unafraid to take the big leaps that make it the most interesting, dynamic, and open city in the world, which is why I know what will emerge from this effort will be bold and actionable, and it will help to ensure a vibrant future that is more equitable and inclusive."

The "New" New York panelwill identify high-impact ideas to spur the equitable recovery of the New York City region by addressing the changing needs of workers, residents, and companies stemming from the COVID-19 pandemic as well as the longstanding and systemic challenges of underserved workers and entrepreneurs. Comprised of a broad and diverse cross-section of civic leaders and industry experts, the panel is charged with creating a shared city-state agenda for investments, legislation,development projects, infrastructure, and long-term, transformative initiatives. The panel is expected to convene in June and present recommendations before the end of 2022.

The panel will focus on transforming the city's job centers, including Midtown Manhattan, and other neighborhoods to support the ways people will live and work in the future. It will also identify key industries of the future, areas for regional cooperation especially related to infrastructure, androbust talent development opportunities to position local workers for careers in those industries.

The panel is expected to focus its efforts across three sets of goals: (1) investing inplacemaking, (2) growing future industries, and (3) supporting our people. Specific goals will be developed by the panel, and additional panelists will be announced in the coming weeks.

About Richard R.Buery, Jr.

Richard R.Buery, Jr. is the CEO of Robin Hood, New York City's largest poverty fighting philanthropy. He has spent his career fighting to advance equal opportunities for families and communities often left behind.Bueryserved as Deputy Mayor for Strategic Policy Initiatives for the City of New York during theDeBlasioadministration and was the key architect of the City's Pre-K for All initiative, enabling 50,000 additional 4-year-oldsto get an early start on their education through a free, full-day program, among other key programs in education and mental health. He has also worked for or led four major nonprofits, including the Brennan Center at NYU's School of Law, KIPP, Children's Aid, and Achievement First. Additionally,Bueryfounded Groundwork to support the educational aspirations of public housing residents in Brooklyn, and was cofounder of the national nonprofit,iMentor, which pairs high school students with mentors to help them navigate to and through college.Bueryalso serves as a Public Service Fellow at the NYU Wagner Graduate School of Public Service, where he was the Distinguished Visiting Urbanist during theSpringof 2019. He is also a visiting lecturer at Yale Law School, a Senior Fellow at theGovLabat NYU, and a partner at the Perception Institute. He serves on the boards of theKresgeFoundation,iMentor, United to Protect Democracy, Atria Health Collaborative, the Grace Church School, and on the Alumni Advisory Council of the Tsai Leadership Program at Yale Law School.Buerygraduated from Harvard University and Yale Law School. He lives in Manhattan with his wife Deborah and their two sons.

About Daniel L.Doctoroff

Daniel L.Doctoroffled New York's recovery after 9/11 as Deputy Mayor for Economic Development and Rebuilding under Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg. Together, they developed a Five Borough Economic Development plan that transformed neighborhoods across the city, promoted new industries, produced hundreds of thousands of jobs, created a record affordable housing plan, and developed apathbreakingsustainability plan. Mr.Doctoroffthen led Bloomberg LP for seven years, including through the financial crisis, during which revenues nearly doubled and the company expanded beyond its core Terminal business. Then Mr.Doctoroffand Google created Sidewalk Labs, an urban innovation company that developed a vision for an innovation district and leveraged that vision to start companies that have created new models for urban health care, urban data and information, advanced infrastructure, building energy efficiency, and master planning, among others. Mr.Doctoroffis the Founding Chairman of The Shed and the Founding Chairman of Target ALS, which has pioneered a new approach to ALS research.

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Governor Hochul and Mayor Adams Announce Launch of "New" New York Blue-Ribbon Panel on Future of NYC's, Region's Economy - ny.gov

Published 15 hours ago

Submitted by Womens Foundation of the South

NEW ORLEANS, May 24, 2022/CSRwire/ - Southern-based non-profit Womens Foundation of the South (WFS) is pleased to announce that it is airing the first episode of its four-part Learn with Us series on streaming service Vimeo. WFSs Learn with Us series amplifies the Foundations vision of a flourishing South, where womxn and girls of color are healthy, doing well financially, and able to determine their own destinies, ensuring that they and their families thrive. Note WFS use of womxn to include trans womxn and gender non-conforming people.

Learn with Us is an impact production, telling the stories of womxn and girls of color in the South, and rooted in content that showcases conditions and issues that womxn and girls face in the countrys Southern states. The timing of the debut on Mothers Day, May 8 was intentional.

The Womens Foundation of the South (WFS) is a revolutionary first-ever foundation dedicated to womxn and girls of color across 13 states, guided by grantmaking experts of color. WFSs Learn with Us is a four-part series of 30-minute videos featuring womxn of color speaking about their experiences and telling compelling stories that illustrate these events.

The first episode concerns the specific experiences womxn of color have when it comes to maternal health, maternal mortality, infant mortality, and reproductive justice in Southern states, particularly Louisiana. Four panelists speak about their own experience of birthing while black as well as what they encounter as birth workers in Louisiana, and the discussion is moderated by WFS Founding President and CEO Carmen James Randolph.

This is a dont-miss debut episode that changes the way people think about maternal mortality and health, leaving them with the clear understanding that outcomes concerning maternal mortality are so much worse in Southern states for womxn of color than elsewhere in our country.

The topic of maternal mortality is especially impassioned, and of-the-moment given Senator Bill Cassidys (R-La.) controversial and comments to Politico that Louisianas maternal mortality rate one of the worst in the nation does not tell the whole story of maternal health in the state because of its large Black population. His comments underscore how is it possible for Black womxn to be systemically unseen, unheard, disbelieved, and dismissed by healthcare professionals and even elected officials in Louisiana. He said, So if you correct our population for race, we're not as much of an outlier as it'd otherwise appear." The United States has the worst maternal mortality rate among developed nations. Each year, approximately 17 mothers die for every 100,000 pregnancies in the country, with rates much more common among Black womxn than other racial groups. In Louisiana, maternal mortality for Black womxn is four times that of White womxn. WFSs Learn with Us series is particularly eye-opening in light of Sen. Cassidys statement. Watch it and Learn with Us and Partner with us to #ShiftTheSouth.

Episode #1

About Carmen James Randolph:As an experienced leader in philanthropy known for championing sustainable transformation from the intersections of gender, racial and social justice, Carmen specializes in galvanizing funders, donors, policy makers and grassroots activists to forever change communities, organizations and people for good. With 21 years of expertise in philanthropy, she has leveraged more than $20M in new investments from national and regional funders to support and transform marginalized communities.

About Womens Foundation of the South: WFS centers and invests in the collective power, health, well-being, economic security, and leadership of womxn and girls of color in the South. WFS is a permanent, endowed institution that serves as a gateway for donors, foundations, corporations, and individual investors to maximize the social impact of their investments in womxn and girls of color in the South. Womens Foundation of the South seeks to connect philanthropy funders and individual donors and investments with womxn BIPOC of the South to help amplify the voices and actions of those nonprofits in the South who are led by and working on behalf WGOC of the South. By transforming the way philanthropy prioritizes its funding, we can effect systemic change in gender and racial injustice when it comes to charitable giving.

Media Contacts: Tashion Macon; tashion@strutagency.com; Penny Guyon; penny@strutagency.com

The Womens Foundation of the South (WFS) is a visionary, healing-centered public foundation, led by and working for womxn and girls of color in the Southern United States. (*Note the useof womxn to include trans womxn and gender non-conforming people.) WFS is the only permanent philanthropic institution dedicated to centering and investing in the collective health, wealth, and power of Black, Latinx, Indigenous, and Asian womxn and girls across the entire American South. It is also singular in its leadership on both the board and staff levels, of which the majority are womxn of color who have a collective 100+ years of professional grantmaking experience.

WFS addresses racial and gender equity at its root by shifting philanthropic resources to the womxn and girls of color who daily prove themselves as leaders and problem solvers despite centuries of abuse, injustice, and exploitation. By intentionally shifting the focus in philanthropy to support womxn and girls of color, WFS is building a South in which families experience optimal health outcomes, accumulate wealth, and set the conditions for their success across three generations.

The Women's Foundation of the South serves the thirteen states of the American South: Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Texas. Guided by the values of equity, justice, sisterhood, power-sharing, ingenuity, self-determination, community wisdom, and the brilliance of mother wit, WFS launched in 2021.

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Women's Foundation of the South to Launch Learn With Us - CSRwire.com

On the heels of the April 1, 2022 court decision striking down Californias groundbreaking statute requiring underrepresented community mandates for corporate boards, a different trial court dealt the states corporate governance diversity efforts another blow. On May 13, 2022, a trial court issued a verdict finding the female board representation law similarly violates Californias Equal Protection Clause.

Now that both statutes have been invalidated AB 979 (members of underrepresented communities) on summary judgment and SB 826 (females) following a trial on the merits corporate boards and the stakeholders and communities those boards serve are asking what is next for statutory governance initiatives?

Californias Statutory Governance Initiatives

In 2018, California enacted a female representation mandate for corporate boards for California-based public companies. Two years later, the California legislature expanded the female board representation mandate to require a specified number of board seats be allocated to members of statutorily specified underrepresented communities. Immediately following the enactment of both statutes, taxpayers filed separate lawsuits claiming the statutes violated the Equal Protection Clause of the California Constitution.

The First Court Acts Striking Down the Underrepresented Community Statute

Following a hearing on the taxpayers summary judgment motion, Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Terry Green declared AB 979 unconstitutional and enjoined the State from enforcing it. The Court found the State was unable to demonstrate that AB 979s racial and other classifications were narrowly tailored enough to address specifically identified harms that the State had a compelling interest in remediating. The Court found that the State had failed to consider race-neutral steps to address the discrimination the State perceived was occurring in corporate boardrooms. While the Court did not cite to the Nasdaq diversity initiative that requires its listed companies to disclose the gender and racial makeup of their boards, the Court referenced disclosure as an avenue the State could have considered when evaluating statutory remedies to address community underrepresentation on corporate boards. Judge Green has not yet entered final judgment and the State has not indicated whether it will appeal the ruling.

A Second Court Voids the Gender Mandate After Trial

While the ruling on AB 979 was issued on a motion for summary judgment, the separate legal challenge to SB 826, the States gender mandate, was resolved by verdict after trial. Like the AB 979 ruling, Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Maureen Duffy-Lewis found that the State failed to show the statute was narrowly tailored to address compelling state interests, noting that there is no compelling governmental interest in remedying generalized non-specific societal discrimination. The Court found that the statutory mandate for female board representation was not a remedy designed to restore victims of specific, purposeful or intentional, unlawful discrimination to the positions they would have occupied absent such illegal actions. The Court also rejected evidence that there was a connection between female representation on corporate boards and improved corporate performance. Instead, the Court found that the legislative purpose in enacting SB 826 was to create gender parity, not to remedy past discrimination.

Similar to the AB 979 ruling but interestingly without citation to Judge Greens decision invalidating AB 979 Judge Duffy-Lewis rejected evidence of like stereotyping, affinity bias, like picking like and gender matching as justification for the law. She also did not find these issue unique to nor associated with any California-based public companies. Likewise, and again similar to the AB 979 ruling, the Court found significant the absence of compelling evidence that California-based public companies had engaged in purposeful and intentional past unlawful discrimination in the board selection process. Judge Duffy-Lewis concluded (similar to Judge Greens decision) that the State had failed to carry its burden of demonstrating that the legislature considered gender-neutral alternative to remedy purposeful discrimination in the board selection process. Judge Duffy-Lewis did not propose possible statutory alternatives in the same way that Judge Green did in his ruling striking down AB 979. But the Court unambiguously enjoined the enforcement of the statute it found offended the Equal Protection Clause of the California Constitution. The State has not yet indicated whether it intends to appeal the verdict.

What Now?

Both statutory mandates are now void and California-based public corporations are not obligated to comply with them. For Nasdaq issuers, however, beginning August 8, 2022 (or the date the issuers 2022 proxy is filed, whichever is later), an initial board matrix must be filed reflecting the issuers board diversity statistics using a Nasdaq template. The rule also requires (after a transition period) issuers to explain whether or not they have at least two diverse directors and if not, why not. This issuer-required reporting is not a mandate. The issuers who fail to provide or meet the stated diversity objectives may elect to explain the unmet objectives in a proxy statement or through other public disclosures. The Nasdaq rule is the subject of a pending lawsuit before the Fifth Circuit challenging the SECs legal authority to approve the rules implementation (with oral argument currently tentatively scheduled for the same week the rule becomes effective).

In addition to the Nasdaq initiative, other states such as Washington, Illinois and New York have passed legislation addressing corporate board representation. While the Washington State law is most like the California model in that it requires the board be composed of a certain percentage of female representation, the law differs significantly in that no penalties are assessed for compliance failures. In fact. the Washington statute operates like the Nasdaq initiative in the requirement of transparent reporting in the form of a board diversity discussion and analysis that is delivered to shareholders that requires details concerning the representation of diverse candidates for election as directors and other board refreshment disclosures. It would seem this model is more likely to withstand legal challenge: instead of creating suspect classifications that face difficult constitutional challenges, the transparent reporting model is both administrative and informative two components that meet shareholder demands for accountability, in the same way financial reporting keeps stakeholders informed as to whether or not a corporation is meeting its financial and other goals.

Statutory initiatives may move the needle toward inclusiveness, but they should not be the primary drivers of boardroom diversification. The California experience demonstrates how legal challenges can derail important initiatives. Boards should not rest inclusiveness on statutory mandates. Stakeholders and ESG initiatives demand governance focused on a meaningful process for seating a board that not only reflects the expertise the corporation requires, but fuller representation of the community the corporation serves.

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Two Strikes Against Board Diversity: Whats Next for Statutory Governance Initiatives? - JD Supra

The killing of 10 Black people by a white supremacist in Buffalo earlier this month has elicited an outpouring of grief. Its also spurred a call to action by one of the nations most prominent civil rights organizations.

VPRs Peter Hirschfeld recently spoke with Mia Schultz, president of the Rutland-area branch of the NAACP, and Steffen Gillom, president of the organizations Windham County branch. He began by asking Schultz and Gillom about the threat that racism and white supremacy pose to Black people and other people of color in Vermont.

Mia Schultz: So before we can inform that threat assessment, we have to educate, and specifically educate surrounding what white supremacy really is. I mean, there is a misconception that white supremacy is only intentional, that it's only people in hoods, or only people who use racial slurs, et cetera.

But really what white supremacy is, is it's embedded into everything. It's our culture. It's our systems. It's an ideology that whiteness whether it's being white or whether it's the cultural values that come along with being white placed on us is superior to all. And so for Vermonters it might not look like a man walking into a store specifically to target Black people and murder them. But it could look like an onslaught of racial microaggressions, or overt racism that's going unchecked, or actually uplifting racist people instead of centering the people who are really harmed, right? It looks different here.

But then that leads to the terrorism that we saw in Buffalo. It's the proliferation of gross white supremacy over time that told that individual that it was basically his civic duty to slaughter Black people. So it led up to that. It wasn't one specific trigger. It was a lifetime, and this country's lifetime, of uplifting white supremacy.

So it forms over time, and so the assessment of threat varies certainly, but it's certainly ongoing and daily for people of color in Vermont and in the nation.

Mia Schultz, NAACP

Steffen Gillom: And I also think that we have to paint a picture, right? Because I don't necessarily know if we're having the conversation about what the actual picture is.

In Vermont, you know, we're a mostly white state, but we have an increasing number of BIPOC people, and that number is not going down. It's going up. And it's a diverse and nuanced group of people of color, right? Which is what I mean by BIPOC Black, Indigenous, people of color. And those folks, right, all of us are people from different types of diaspora. Some folks are from international backgrounds, immigrant backgrounds, domestic backgrounds, and across a skew of economic backgrounds.

And so if you take that, and then you add it to the economic struggles around housing and resources that are already here in Vermont, right, that everyone, regardless of their race, is struggling with, you create a potential perfect storm for incidences of hate to brew, right?

There are reasons for this type of behavior that go deeper than just spur of the moment, bad decisions. You know, we can't rely on our presumed ideology that we are a progressive state as a buffer for hate. I tell everyone, you know, think of it like a cake, right? That good talk is like the icing on the top. And it's pretty and it smells good. But we have no idea what the cake is like underneath until we take a big bite into it.

Vermont is just at the place where we're prepared to take that big first bite. I don't even necessarily know if we've taken it yet. I would say, arguably, no, we have not. But we do see institutions having the conversation, or just starting to have the conversation about this issue.

So like I said, perfect storm could be brewing. We can I think beat this back as a state. But we have to name it for what it is and paint the actual picture in a way that's easy and accessible for everyone to understand.

Peter Hirschfeld: As you survey the landscape, what does Vermont need to do to make sure Black Vermonters, other Vermonters of color, are safe and protected in their communities, and I guess perhaps as importantly, feel safe and protected in their communities?

Mia Schultz: I just want to first point out that Vermont has come a little bit of a way in at least acknowledging that racism exists here. Because there was a baseline before I know that there were many people that could not even acknowledge that racism even exists here ... in a progressive state like Vermont. So we're getting there.

And I think over time, that awareness has generally been shifting. And that's also due to a lot of the qualitative and quantitative data that has been demonstrated over the last few years to support that it's now time to shift to acknowledgement, right?

But now we need to shift from performance, and by that I mean these performative ways that Vermont has really been using to remedy the very real and embedded threat that racism imposes on our society. So, for example, what does that mean to have a declaration of inclusion if we're going to see BIPOC people leaving the state for racial violence that they experience? I mean, I just met a family the other day that's moving down to North Carolina because the schools here were not safe for their kids. Think about that: they're moving to North Carolina from Vermont. So what does that declaration of inclusion mean? We have to really implement it.

More from Vermont Edition: In the wake of the Buffalo shooting, how are Vermonters fostering diversity, equity and inclusion?

Another example of things that we see that might look like change, but it's really performance at this point: What does it mean to have a DEI committee, for example, if you're not seeing any actual accountability in the workplace for racism that people are suffering? And what does it mean for the state to declare racism as a public health emergency when we're still experiencing inexplicable deaths of Black and Brown people in our hospitals, like we are here in Bennington?

I mean it's shifting from acknowledgment to performance, but we need to go deeper, dig deeper, and acknowledge that it's embedded in our systems. It's embedded into our beliefs, in our psyches. And we need to start listening to our communities of color and letting them lead the conversations for their own safety, and then enforce what they're saying. Believe it and enforce it, and put in strategies that don't perpetuate that harm.

Steffen Gillom: Yeah, you know, I agree with my sister president. I think that we have to take their security seriously as a state and that is creating structures that are fast-acting and easily accessible. So, you know, that looks like the encouragement of organizations private and public across the state to actually do this. It looks like offering incentives, you know, insisting on implementation and, as Mia was saying, enforcing it.

You know, those are four steps that I think the state is taking but should be prioritizing even more. Plus, the executive and legislative branches should be in sync better on this. I think that there has been a lot of politic playing, to be honest with you, around a lot of this language, around a lot of these initiatives.

But at the end of the day, as we're seeing, these are people's lives. These are families who are not getting their brothers and sisters back. Parents who are not coming home. And at the end of the day, Vermont is not immune to that. And so politics have to be put aside. And I think that's a conversation for another show. It's probably even a bigger can of worms open. But we have to name it, you know? We have to name that there are agendas at play that stop good work around what it means to keep people, especially people of color safe, and to actually enforce equity, not only across the state, but within individual and public and private institutions as well.

Peter Hirschfeld: You both have made decisions to involve yourself in this work through leadership roles in the NAACP. What kinds of barriers have you encountered as the organization tries to advance its mission here in Vermont?

Steffen Gillom: First and foremost, the biggest barrier, at least for the Windham branch I'll speak only for the Windham branch in this particular instance, even though I'm sure that Mia shares sentiments with me is that there is an over-focus on the structure There is a focus from a lot of organizations to make themselves look good, right, focusing on their structure to make themselves look good and an under-focus on the individual's actual experience, right.

It's almost like people are viewed as collateral damage. You know, the people who are lost, the people who suffered some of the discrimination or some of the hardships in these organizations, it's almost like the organizations want to just kind of put a blanket over that and say, "Let's just focus on the structure. Let's create a DEI committee and make it kind of all go away."

And there has to be questions asked about that, such as: "What does that do to those who are currently being impacted? And how does the trauma of that ripple through the community?" Vermont is a state that is made up of a conglomeration of small towns, for the most part, so when something like that happens, it travels quickly, and in circles with BIPOC people it travels even quicker. It's almost like there is an addiction to analysis paralysis, right? To bide time and maintain white comfort. But on the backs of who and at what cost is the real question.

Steffen Gillom, NAACP Windham County branch

Mia Schultz: Yeah, to that end, you know, right on our on the national NAACP website, it states that we envision an inclusive community rooted in liberation, where all persons can exercise their civil and human rights without discrimination. That is literally on the national website.

And one of the barriers that I see in my work is this idea of tokenism. That's not really inclusion, right? Because let's face it, when we're talking about racism, when we talk about white supremacy, it's scary, it's uncomfortable, and therefore, learning about it, when you're showing up in the individual is really scary, right?

So it feels really good just to see inclusion, like inviting a BIPOC member as part of your group, but still enforcing some of these ideologies and white supremacy ideologies, into your group, asking that person to just kind of conform to your norms, right? Instead of inviting them there to be their whole complete selves, right?

And frankly, it's a personal barrier for myself. People quite frankly villainize me for pushing for structural change and real inclusion that includes really difficult conversations and uplifts other BIPOC people. And instead, they find people who will kind of like do and say what they want to, so they can take some pictures with them, and they can say, "Look at how diverse we are! Look at how welcoming and inclusive we are!" When in actuality, those people are too being harmed in those systems, and still experiencing, you know, microaggressions and macroaggressions, and going back to that whole performative piece that we were talking about.

We need to do things that are substantial in inclusivity, right? We have to learn and listen and center the people that have not been centered. And so that means uplifting their voices and not silencing them, and not just using them for photo opportunities, or using them to make themselves look good. So that is a barrier that I see for myself in particular, and in my area working with the NAACP and beyond.

Mia Schultz, Rutland-area branch of the NAACP

Peter Hirschfeld: To people that have an interest in doing work on this, what are things that they can do as individuals to begin to eliminate or erode some of the barriers that you both just talked about?

Steffen Gillom: Well, you know, I think it's important that they do their own work, right? And so the therapist in me wants to give a task, but there is something called the genogram. And a genogram is something that you can Google But really what it does is it helps you map out the ideas and patterns that you've learned over time, you know? Not only communication wise, but also ideologies. It allows you to ask yourself questions like, "What ideologies have been passed down to me? Do I like those ideologies? How does my upbringing impact my behavior and emotional reaction around things like race? What have I done about it personally that has worked? And why or why not?"

We're talking about core identity development, going back and asking yourself, "What did it take to develop who I am? And am I comfortable in 2022 with some of those realities? Am I comfortable with some of those ideologies?"

A lot of people rush to what we call "do the work," but are not really so knowledgeable on their own upbringing and processes. And so you might be reading ad nauseum, but you might be targeting the wrong part of yourself. You might be looking at it asking the wrong questions. And so I think you have to go back into your lineage, and you have to do what a lot of people of color do when they're trying to, you know, dispel a lot of notions and ideologies that they picked up and empower themselves in other ways, you know? It's the same process.

I think that a lot of white people in the U.S. have become so comfortable because of where they are, right? But at the same time, that personal work, and that core development work, I believe it's key.

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Mia Schultz: Yeah, that's what I was going to say that personal work is absolutely key. Learning, what is white supremacy? But further than that, how does it show up in me? How does it show up in my everyday interactions? How does it show up in the world around me, right?

And there are plenty of resources out there to talk about that lots of books, lots of seminars and trainings and that sort of thing that you can do. But then you have to take the next step, you have to interrupt it. You can do all of the learning in the world, but the individual has to interrupt it when they see it to be among other white people and interrupt them when they are being racist. And saying, "Look, that is racist," and teaching other white people, interrupting it instead of sitting silently, right?

I mean, that is one of the ways to not normalize it anymore. It has become normal for groups of white people to be together and to say racist things and for people to let it slide. So it's important for it to be interrupted. And once you've done that self-evaluation and learning, educating, all of those things, it's important to spread that out into the community so that they can do the same things.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

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After racist mass killing in Buffalo, NAACP leaders reflect on threat of white supremacy in Vermont - Vermont Public Radio

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The only thing I could see was a moving dot in front of me. Everything else was blinding white. Just dont lose that dot, I told myself. Keep moving. One ski in front of the other. I had been wearing these ski boots for nearly 10 days. Underneath my layers of insulation and wool, I alternated between freezing to the bone and breaking a sweat. I was scaredof getting lost in this nothingness on my own.

Eventually the dot stopped, and more dots appeared. I could make out the color of each of my expedition mates jackets. I knew Kaitlin by the purple, Luke ahead of her by his lime green. Fifteen of us gathered somewhere on Horse Mountain in the Wyoming Range. We couldnt see the summit, so we claimed the turnaround spot as it, and broke out in celebration. Deep belly laughs roared through the sound of wind ripping through Gore-Tex layers. We put our arms around each other to stay upright and sang, out-of-tune, Aint no mountain high enough! In that moment, with those people, I was home.

I spent 89 days with those 14 others on a National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) course. We got to know each other at a depth I had never experienced before, and from that point on, I was hooked on the outdoor culture. All too hurriedly, on the 90th day, we boarded planes and dispersed across the country.

The NOLS course led me to start working seasonal guiding and wilderness-therapy jobs. Over time I spent nearly all of my 20s moving in pursuit of adventure, the wild, the over there. I lived out of vehicles for intentional impermanence, and changed jobs, friends, and states just about every season. Each job was the next big adventure, from backpacking and rock climbing with adolescents in Utah to sea kayaking and climbing glaciers with vacationers in Alaska. The cycle was the same: the high and sense of purpose that came when working the season, and a low that followed.

The wild landscapes attracted me. Even with their objective hazards, they felt safer than the suburban environment I had grown up in. In the outdoors I could predict and prepare for dangerous situations. It was the life behind closed doors that kept me living in a constant state of alertness. The mountains, the rivers, the oceans, and the canyons were indifferent to who I was and whether I was performing or still. No judgment, no comparison. Only now, edging into my 30s and having stepped away from full-time guiding, do I realize that I was running, rebelling, and seeking that sense of being home, over and over again in the places I guided.

Growing up, I had never felt like I belonged. The community I was born into seemed to value fitting in over being creative, being nice over being honest, and doing what youre told. I felt defined by perceived external beauty, degrees, athleticism, and career goals. It seemed as if every adult around me asked questions about how well I was doing in school and sports, and plans for my future. Never about who I really was or what I wanted. Others of my peers seemed to fit in seamlessly, and I wondered what was wrong with me. Layers of pretending led to feeling like an imposter.

So after college, I packed up and drove from Maryland out West, reasoning that the further I could get from the life I knew, the closer I might get to the one I wanted. What I didnt know at the time is that rebellion is just as much of a cage as obedience is, as Glennon Doyle wrote in her book Untamed. Both are a reaction to someone elses way instead of paving your own.

Finding the outdoor guiding community was like discovering a beach of shiny broken shards that fit together perfectly. We noticed common threads among ourselves, and often were the black sheep of our families. We sat around campfires and spent hours on the ends of each others ropes, depending on one another for safety. We flaunted our financial instability in rebellion to society. We howled into the open desert, and pissed on glaciers. As the season picked up, our days would fill with running trips and supporting and entertaining clients. Some of the crew kept charging after adventures in the infrequent off-time, but some would get home, slump into the couch, crack open a beer, and zone out. Some loved to partyhard. While NOLS had felt like a family, in guiding, the initial easy waves of meeting each other sometimes seemed to curl into an undertow of competition and comparison.

I felt like my practice in pretending and performing was put to use day after day, and I again learned a calculated version of who I could be. I had scripted answers to the clients questions. And when shit hit the fan on a trip, such as a client having a breakdown in a remote environment, I suppressed the feelings of powerlessness so that I could show up the next day ready to go back out. There were few to no affordable or available mental-health resources to help us guides feel supported. We generally relied on each other with drunken subpar therapy.

A sense of restlessness grew within me. I felt like I constantly needed to prove something to somebody, or at least myself. A part of me was driven to ramp it up and squeeze every drop out of that midnight sun. Another part of me questioned how long I could really keep going. The season would end, as it each one did, and the community, the job, the way I dressed, and the shared language would all halt. And we would all be left saying flimsy see-ya-laters, packing up our cars, and jumping on planes to whatever was next. There was always a question of who would come back.

In October 2019, I flew from Alaska, where I had just finished another season, to New Zealand for another guiding gig. I bought a van and drove it around the South Island, staring out at the beautiful shores that were printed on thousands of postcards. Places people only dreamed of escaping to. I sought climbing partners, and met a nice European couple. We shared a day cragging, and then they drove their van in the opposite direction from mine. My heart sank. The cycle of relationships coming and going was speeding up more than I could handle. What I really wanted, beyond any grand adventure, was a consistent community.

Bellingham Mountain Guide, 26, Dies in Fall in North Cascades

I remember staring out at the ocean and feeling nothing. I was thousands of miles from anyone I knew, and not only did I not want to be there, I couldnt think of a single spot where I really wanted to be. I wanted to stop running, stop moving, stop living in a way that burnt me out. On the day I was to start orientation for my new job, I sat frozen in the companys parking lot and couldnt even step outside my van door. Finally I drove away and used whatever money I had left after getting there to buy a plane ticket home. I had broken down and recreated my identity so many times. What once felt like freedom in the nomad spirit, now felt like a dead end.

After the month it took to sell the van, I left New Zealand to move into my mothers house. I felt like a failure. If I slowed down enough to find stability, would I be compromising too much? What if I no longer had the drive to guide or take risks in the outdoors? Those things had become my identity.

Over the next two years I lived in seven more houses and four different states. A therapist in North Idaho told me about two twin women who open their homes to help people listen to and heal their hearts, and move through grief. They run 10-week classes and three- and six-day workshops called Responsible Living. I resisted meeting them until I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. That point came after five more significant events, including losing a relationship, housing and even housing for my pup all in one swing. What I needed was a roof and a friend.

These women taught me that when I know who I am, even in a whiteout storm, I can never be lost. Season after season I thought I had learned who I was. But it was only in the context of each job, place, and identity. And those contexts werent sustainable. Or if they were, I had to ask myself if I really wanted to continue down those paths.

I believe the outdoor guiding industries have the ability to create healthy, sustainable communities. They just need the resources and support. Individual therapeutic support for guides is one great tool, but the most effective connection comes through community, over time, in small moments, not in a structured one-hour sit down block. Some organizations are collectively having similar thoughts and doing something about it. Redside Foundation in Idaho and Montana and Whale Foundation in Arizona support the health and strength of the professional outdoor guiding community through cost-free counseling and financial and holistic health support. I think a step in the right direction could be creating times of intentional togetherness, such as campfire circles where anyone who feels compelled can share a piece of their story or something theyre feeling. Principles that can help guide that space are being 100 percent accountable for yourself, staying current with your feelings, choosing win-win mentality, using I statements and being specific, and confidentiality. Check in with each other regularly. We can sometimes get so caught up in our stories that we miss what is really going on.

Erin Phillips is a writer and photographer living in North Idaho. She is a seasoned wilderness-therapy and outdoor guide and passionate about supporting mental health. Find her at erinmp93, erinmariedesigns.com.

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