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Lawmakers Kill Bill Requiring Officers Render Aid, Report Wrongdoing

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The bill, introduced by Del. Mark Levine, would have protected citizens against bias-based profiling on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity, as well as requiring police to provide aid to the injured and report misconduct by other officers.

A Senate committee recently killed a bill intended to minimize police misconduct and incentivize accountability among law enforcement. 

House Bill 1948, introduced by Del. Mark Levine, D-Alexandria, required law enforcement officers to report misconduct by fellow officers. Another part of the measure, which some opponents called too subjective, was that on-duty officers provide aid, as circumstances objectively permitted, to someone suffering a life-threatening condition or serious bodily injury. 

The bill also expanded the current definition of bias-based profiling, which is prohibited in Virginia, to include gender identity and sexual orientation. Bias-based profiling is when a police officer takes action solely based on an individual’s real or perceived race, age, ethnicity, or gender. 

The measure passed the Virginia House of Delegates last month on a 57-42 vote and the Senate Judiciary committee killed the bill this week on a 9-6 vote. Levine introduced a similar bill last year that also failed in the Senate.

“I call HB 1948 my good apple bill, because it separates the vast majority of law enforcement that are good apples from the few bad apples that are not,” Levine said when the bill was before the House. 

Delegate Mark Levine. Photo via Facebook

Dominique Martin, a policy analyst for New Virginia Majority, said before a House panel that the bill would establish a mechanism to create accountability among officers. 

“One of the major themes when discussing long lasting approaches to police reform is the need for change at the institutional level,” Martin said. “One aspect is addressing organizational culture. It incentivizes a more accountable culture amongst law enforcement.”

Vee Lamneck, executive director for Equality Virginia, spoke in favor of the bill.

“LGBT people, especially Black, Latinx, Indigenous LGBT people, are more likely to be victimized by discriminatory police practices,” Lamneck said. “Transgender women are six times more likely to endure police violence and Black transgender women experience even higher rates of being antagonized and criminalized by police.”

HB 1250, also known as The Community Policing Act, took effect on July 1, 2020. The law prohibits police from engaging in bias-based profiling while on duty.

Dana Schrad, executive director of the Virginia Association of Chiefs of Police, expressed concern with the part of Levine’s bill that required officers to provide aid to someone with a life threatening injury.

“The concern is that a lot of times in situations where you don’t know whether life-saving aid is necessarily required in that instance, the outcome may be that someone is injured more than is immediately recognizable,” Schrad said.

Schrad said the bill was a response to events such as the death of George Floyd, a 46-year-old Black man who died in police custody. Former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin has been charged with second-degree murder and will stand trial in March. The three other officers, J. Alexander Kueng, Thomas Lane, and Tou Thao, will stand trial in August on charges of aiding and abetting second-degree murder.

 “It’s the George Floyd response that the officers there did not render aid,” Schrad said.

John Clair, police chief for the Marion Police Department, in Smyth County, agreed with Schrad.

“We’re police officers, medical aid should be left to medical professionals,” Clair said. 

Virginia State Police Ford Crown Victoria, by JLaw45, licensed with CC BY 2.0.

The requirement to render aid is not in the state code and though it is a requirement already for many districts, there is a need for consistency across the commonwealth, Levine said.

“I’m confident that the vast majority would do so anyway,” Levine said. “This makes it a matter of policy; it will be taught in training.”

Several bills centered on police reform have died during this General Assembly session. A measure by Del. Elizabeth Guzman, D-Woodbridge, would have established data collection on use of force incidents that would be reported to the superintendent of Virginia State Police. HB 2045 and SB 1440 would have eliminated qualified immunity. The bills would have made it easier for plaintiffs to sue police officers in civil court for depriving the plaintiffs of their constitutional rights. Both bills were struck down within the last two weeks. A similar measure from Del. Jeff Bourne, D-Richmond, who patroned HB 2045, was also struck down during the 2020 General Assembly special session. 

Schrad said Levine’s bill and the qualified immunity bill would have taken away legal protections and created a strict liability for police officers. Opponents of the qualified immunity bills also said there would be a negative impact on hiring new police recruits.

“These kinds of issues, all taken together, create such a standard of both strict liability, and no protections for law enforcement officers that we’re really throwing them under the bus,” Schrad said.

Levine said his bill was both modest and large. 

 “It’s large because it really tries to make it clear there is no thin blue line, that the goal of law enforcement is to serve the public first; and you should not be covering up bad acts, severe acts of wrongdoing, that’s not technical or minimal, by your fellow officer,” he said.

Written by Sarah Elson, Capital News Service. Top Photo: Police square off with protesters at the JEB Stuart monument in Richmond on June 21. Photo by Andrew Ringle.

Canceling The Confederacy

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Dismantling the Confederacy’s legacy as one of the most ubiquitous brands in American history is not easy. But, as Rachel Scott Everett writes, progress is finally being made.

On July 1, 2020, I stood with hundreds of masked observers to witness history in my hometown of Richmond, Virginia: the official removal of the first Confederate statue in our city.

A deluge of rain poured down, but spectators didn’t budge. We watched as a crane plucked a century-old bronze statue of Confederate general Stonewall Jackson from its 20-foot pedestal on Monument Avenue. Immediately at lift-off, I felt a momentous shift take place. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Church bells tolled. Even the heavens offered a resounding approval with a loud clap of thunder.

This wasn’t just the removal of a statue. It was the elimination of a powerful symbol — a visual representation of a belief system with its own narrative, distinct set of values, and unique personality; in short, a successful brand. 

Having spent more than a decade working at ad agencies creating campaigns for national and global companies, I’ve seen firsthand the influence that brands have on people — for better and for worse.

Consider some of the top brands out there and the messaging they invoke.

Coke invites us to “Taste the feeling,” Apple inspires us to “Think different,” and of course, Nike motivates us to “Just do it.” These brands make us feel something, strongly and viscerally. In fact, our emotions play a big role in why we buy a brand’s products and services. It’s also how we inadvertently become “brand ambassadors.” People see our advocacy in the choices we make — what we drink, the phone we use, the clothes we wear, the conversations we have, even the posts we like on social media. 

The same holds true when a person, such as a celebrity or global figure, becomes a brand. Their audience, in the form of fans or followers, become unofficial spokespeople. It’s why a red MAGA hat denotes so much more than a political party. It says to the world that you not only support that particular individual, but you believe in what they do, stand for what they stand for, and subscribe to their ideology.

Branding is an effective marketing tool because it taps deep into our psyche, often without our realizing it.

It can confirm what we already believe to be true, or it can be so persuasive that it changes our mind. In some cases, a brand stretches or distorts the truth to appeal to its audience. Do we really think Pop-Tarts are part of a nutritious breakfast, as Kellogg’s suggests? Over time, the reinforcement of this skewed reality becomes accepted as the norm. It’s exactly how the rise of the Confederacy brand came to pass.

People congregate on Monument Avenue in Richmond, Virginia, to witness the removal of the J.E.B. Stuart Monument by city officials in July. Photo by EVERGIB.

Ultimately, behind every brand is an agenda — whether it’s turning a profit, gaining an audience, acquiring fame or power, promoting a cause, or perhaps all of the above.

The way that agenda comes to life is typically through a “brand story,” a compelling narrative that elicits an emotional response, which in turn affects behavior. While I’d like to say humans are smart enough to recognize this subliminal sales pitch, we’re simple creatures who can be won over easily. Charles Revson, founder of the makeup brand Revlon, once stated, “In our factory, we make lipstick. In our store, we sell hope.”

When the Civil War ended, the Confederacy should have, too. 

But a belief system was already in place — one that included the justification of slavery — and it was profoundly ingrained in the minds of most white Southerners.

The Confederates may have lost the war, but they were not about to give up on their version of America. They needed a way for the Confederacy to stay alive. In the world of advertising, it’s a well-known strategy for a business to launch a new campaign when its brand starts to lose relevance, gets tied up in bad press, or in the case of the Confederacy, faces extinction.

In 2016, Wells Fargo created millions of fraudulent savings and checking accounts on behalf of clients without their consent. The multinational financial company admitted to breaking the law and was fined $3 billion. To recover from the scandal, the company modernized its logo and released a campaign emphasizing a new and improved commitment to customers. Through empathetic language and a tone of humility, Wells Fargo attempted to transform its image from evil banking behemoth to trusted banking friend. Only time will tell if it proves successful.

Branding is a marathon, not a sprint. It can take years to build an impactful brand (or rebrand).

It’s why we know BMW is “The ultimate driving machine” and that we’ll be “in good hands with Allstate” — both slogans have been running for more than 40 years. De Beers has been telling us “A diamond is forever” since 1947. From “Have it your way” to “The happiest place on Earth,” the way brands become part of our cultural landscape is through the story they consistently tell us over time.

Graffiti messages cover what remains of the Jefferson Davis Memorial. The statue of Davis, the former president of the Confederate States, was unofficially removed by protestors in June. Photo by EVERGIB.

Enter the Lost Cause, an interpretation of the Civil War developed during post-Reconstruction by white Southerners, many of whom were former Confederate generals. The sole aim of this one-sided narrative was to paint the Confederacy in the best possible light. Marketers call this “brand positioning” — the way in which a brand is perceived in the minds of its audience. For the Confederates, this meant writing their own version of history.

The primary purpose of the Lost Cause was to establish the belief that the Confederacy fought for a just and heroic cause — specifically, states’ rights.

Downplaying support of institutionalized slavery, it emphasized Confederate bravery and the struggle for independence. In this romanticized version of the Old South, the “brand personality” of the Confederacy began to take shape.

By applying human traits and characteristics, the brand became more relatable, inspiring more empathy. Serving up Confederate war efforts as noble and virtuous strengthened the brand’s emotional connection to white Southerners by tapping into their longstanding pride. 

The Lost Cause also weaved in guiding principles to perpetuate a more honorable and respected image.

These “brand values” highlighted what was important to Southerners: devotion to family and state, faithfulness to Christian ideals, and preservation of the life and culture of the Antebellum South, characterized by plantation fields, sweet tea, good manners and “happy” slaves.

When brand values, personality and positioning come together, they work to promote what is known as the “brand promise.” This is the expectation a brand sets for itself to motivate its audience to support, and ideally, champion its cause.

For the Confederacy, that promise came to fruition in a brand slogan created by a Southern political coalition known as the Redeemers. “The South will rise again” became the Confederate rallying cry. Depending on whether you were white or Black, the phrase was either a vision for the future or a threat to your very existence. 

Declarations like this are on what’s left of the Confederate statues in Richmond. Other messages include “End White Supremacy,” “We Won’t Stop,” and “With Us or Against.” Photo by EVERGIB.

As the Confederate brand further solidified, its followers sought out the most effective way to push their agenda out into the world. Essentially a “brand launch campaign,” the Confederacy used specific mediums (“media channels”) to communicate its message to the widest audience possible.

Back in the late 1800s, there was obviously no social media, influencer marketing or commercials. However, the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC), a white Southern women’s “heritage” group, found a solution that would not only preserve the legacy of the Confederacy, but validate it. Their primary media channel: school textbooks.

The UDC argued that the historical narrative around the Civil War dishonored the South in a legacy of shame.

As such, they referred to the war as the War Between the States or the War for Southern Independence. This is an example of “rebranding” — a marketing strategy that allocates a different identity for a brand; one that works more in its favor.

By pushing for the Lost Cause narrative in the classroom, the Confederates were able to reach children at the origin point of their education, indoctrinating them with a biased perspective of U.S. history. This systematic method of changing attitudes or altering beliefs is often known by another term: brainwashing.

The Lost Cause still remains in some present-day textbooks. The goal of the UDC wasn’t just to rewrite history for the South, but for the entire nation. They wanted to ensure generations grew up knowing their version of the “truth.” But they didn’t stop there. There was a desire to build something permanent and highly visible to maintain the Confederacy’s relevance.

As such, the UDC led the movement to erect memorials to Confederate veterans in public spaces all over the country during two distinct time periods.

The first wave of Confederate statues was built during The Progressive Era (1890-1921). Slavery was abolished, but the South was determined to keep Black people oppressed through Jim Crow laws that legalized and enforced racial segregation. The proliferation of memorials to the Confederacy kept the brand visible, while serving as an intimidation tactic (for context, the UDC also built a memorial commemorating the Ku Klux Klan).

Around this same time, an unprecedented number of lynchings took place. These killings were public acts of racial terror committed by white Southerners to incite fear among newly freed slaves. In some cases, white people who enabled Black people were lynched as well.

The second wave of Confederate statues was built during the Civil Rights Movement (1954-68). Black people were justifiably fed up with the continued inequality stemming from the country’s inherent prejudice.

After World War II, a group of white Southern Democrats briefly formed their own far-right political party called the Dixiecrats. Opposing racial integration, they supported Jim Crow laws and pledged to uphold white supremacy. The party’s symbol: the Confederate battle flag (also known as the Rebel flag). Resurrected after nearly 100 years out of the public eye, it sent a message loud and clear: defiance against racial equality.

Armed defenders of the United Daughters of the Confederacy stand guard outside the national headquarters building after it was vandalized earlier this summer. Photo by EVERGIB.

Today, more than 1,500 Confederate symbols exist in the United States, with over 240 in Virginia alone, more than any other state. Most are statues of Confederate leaders or soldiers from the Civil War, put in prominent spaces for public display.

The Confederacy also found its way into the names of schools, roads, parks, bridges, and of all places, military bases.

Confederate museums popped up, serving as shrines to protect the “legacy” of the war, but again, only showcasing the point of view of the South. 

Until a few months ago, the Virginia Flaggers, a neo-Confederate group based in Richmond, would gather on a highly visible corner of Arthur Ashe Boulevard, near the UDC national headquarters (yes, the UDC still exists). According to an article in the Daily Beast, some members of the Virginia Flaggers are directly tied to white nationalist groups that openly promote white supremacy.

Typically, the scene would consist of a few older white men and a lineup of parked trucks flying multiple Confederate flags from 10-foot poles. In recent years, they had added a giant Trump flag to their collection. However, since the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement and protests, the Flaggers have been absent.

From a branding perspective, a lack of visibility is a sure sign a brand is losing relevance. Out of sight, out of mind.

For more than a century, the Confederacy built and strengthened its brand through textbooks, monuments, flags and more. Eventually, it made its way into pop culture.

In the 1980s, the country band Alabama released the song “Dixieland Delight.” The feel-good song became popular with students at the University of Alabama, who began singing it during football games. When they added their own profanity-laced lyrics, the school momentarily banned the tradition. Ironically, no one seemed to have a problem with the actual name of the song, “Dixieland,” a nickname referring to the 11 Southern states that seceded to form the Confederate States of America.

In fact, it wasn’t long ago that fraternities at the University of Alabama, and other Southern universities, held “Old South” themed parties and parades. Revelers dressed in Civil War attire with women in Scarlett O’Hara-like hoop skirts and men in Confederate gray military uniforms.

Growing up, I couldn’t get enough of The Dukes of Hazzard.

The action-packed TV show featured the adventures of cousins Bo and Luke Duke, two good ol’ boys who ran a moonshine business for their Uncle Jesse in rural Georgia. Mostly, the show was watching them evade the law by driving around in their 1969 Dodge Charger, named the “General Lee” after Confederate general Robert E. Lee. The car had a Confederate flag painted on the roof and a signature horn that played the first few notes of “Dixie,” the de facto national anthem of the Confederacy. 

In 2005, Warner Brothers released a feature film based on the hit series. Reruns of the show continued to play on TV Land until 2015, when white supremacist Dylann Roof stormed a church in South Carolina, killing nine Black people for the explicit purpose of starting a race war. Photos later surfaced of him posing at a historic Civil War site, holding the gun he used in the massacre, along with a Confederate flag.

Visitors climb on the graffitied steps of the Robert E. Lee Monument. In recent months, the area has seen a dramatic increase of people coming specifically to experience the monument. Photo by EVERGIB.

Brands are powerful because of the complex idea system behind them.

A quick search on Amazon shows the Confederacy’s fight to stay alive. Branded merchandise ranges from Confederate T-shirts and throw pillows to commemorative coins and face masks — even the Dixie Air Horn is available. From generation to generation, the Confederacy brand and its racist ideology have continued to exist. As a society, we’ve failed to bring the truth to the masses. Instead, we’ve succumbed to the branding.

Our tolerance, and in some cases indifference, has translated into acceptance. A brand reaches the pinnacle of success when it becomes a normal part of everyday life — when people carry around the ubiquitous Starbucks coffee cup, talk about their latest run to Targét [“tar-jay”], or when a reality show host becomes president of the United States and defends the statues of traitors proliferating our country.

But the normalization can end when the narrative changes.

And that’s precisely what happened on May 25, 2020, when Minneapolis police killed George Floyd. 

The momentum of protests that erupted across the country quickly made its way to Richmond, former capital of the Confederacy. Nowhere has the Confederacy been more visible in the city than on Monument Avenue, a grand, tree-lined boulevard featuring five enormous statues dedicated to Confederate military and political figures.

Over the years, numerous efforts have been made to remove or relocate the statues, or use historical plaques to provide context. It wasn’t until protesters began to tear down statues around town that Mayor Levar Stoney announced a proposal to officially remove all Confederate statues from Monument Avenue, stating that “Richmond is no longer the capital of the Confederacy — it is filled with diversity and love for all, and we need to demonstrate that.”

In less than a month, four of the five statues were removed. Now, only General Robert E. Lee remains, due to a court order protecting it that is expected to be lifted. The Confederate general on horseback sits perched atop a 60-foot pedestal covered in an impactful array of colorful graffiti.

Finally, “context” has been added.

While a few complain about the profanity, most recognize the profound meaning behind the messages. Centuries of pain, injustice, anger, grief, and trauma are finally being unleashed and recognized, culminating in a beautiful expression that is ultimately about hope. 

Photographer John Biggs used a drone to capture an incredible abstract aerial shot of the Lee Monument. A yoga friend of mine remarked that the colors and textures resemble a mandala, the sacred symbol in Hindu and Buddhist rituals that also represents a sacred space. It’s a poignant analogy that demonstrates how a change in perspective (both literally and figuratively) can open the mind to see things in an entirely new light. It’s precisely what we need right now.

A drone image shows the colorful messages surrounding the statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee on Monument Avenue in Richmond. Photo by John Biggs.

A video clip has been trending from the beloved 1980s sitcom The Golden Girls, which focuses on the friendship of four senior women living in Florida. The clip shows one of the main characters, Blanche Devereaux (played by Rue McClanahan), being confronted by a young Don Cheadle, who gives her a lesson in racism prompted by her display of the Confederate flag.

As Blanche attempts to defend her Southern heritage, she quickly realizes her predicament with the flag’s racist ties. Clearly having an existential crisis, she pleads, “What am I supposed to do and think about my family now? What am I supposed to think about all those people I love? What am I supposed to think about ME? Everything I grew up believing in, all my wonderful memories, they’re all tarnished now by …” She pauses for a moment to consider the weight of the moment. “Oh god … by the truth.”

For many, this time has been an awakening as a new, more accurate historical narrative takes shape.

In a display of poetic justice, the area where the Lee Monument stands on Monument Avenue in Richmond has been rebranded as Marcus-David Peters (MDP) Circle. The new community gathering spot is named after a 24-year-old local Black man and high school teacher, who was having a mental health crisis when a Richmond police officer shot and killed him in May 2018.

He is our George Floyd.

A couple embrace at the newly rebranded Marcus-David Peters Circle on Monument Avenue in Richmond. MDP Circle has recently become a celebrated community gathering spot. Photo by EVERGIB.

At the center of MDP Circle, makeshift memorials have been built, featuring Black people from across the country who have died from police brutality. Their photos are accompanied by bios that tell their stories and the injustice of their deaths.

On a daily basis, people come here to learn, cry, contemplate, and rejoice.

They take photos, have conversations, enjoy a picnic, and play pickup basketball games. The location has served as a venue for lectures, dance and music performances, and yoga practices. A community garden has been started, and volunteers under tents regularly offer water and snacks and information on ways to take action and register to vote.

In the evenings, a local lighting artist uses the Lee statue as a backdrop for the projection of the faces of Black victims, alongside Black activists, thinkers and politicians, to reclaim support for the BLM movement.

I wonder, if Lee were alive today, what he might think of his statue’s transformation. Considering he opposed monuments, specifically Confederate war monuments, my hope is he’d recognize the irony. Certainly his descendants do. Rev. Robert Wright Lee, a distant nephew of the Confederate general, has voiced support for removal of the statues for years, stating:

“I fully believe, along with a host of other amazing citizens of this great country, that Black lives matter — and for us to continue to celebrate a man who questioned the education, disparaged the right to vote of Black life, and had previously fought for the continued enslavement of Africans on the North American continent is an affront to those now suffering under the continued weight of oppression.”

Locals watch images of notable Black people projected on the statue of Confederate general Robert E. Lee, created by lighting artist Dustin Klein at MDP Circle in Richmond. Photo by EVERGIB.

This is how we begin to re-educate a nation. This is how we seek the truth.

Already we’re seeing visible signs of change nationwide. Confederate statues are coming down, Black Lives Matter murals are going up. Police reform and accountability are being discussed. Corporate America is taking a stance and rethinking policies and practices. And many are taking a serious look at their branding.

In just the last few months, NASCAR has banned Confederate flags at all races and events, the Dixie Chicks are now the Chicks, the Washington Redskins plan to change their name and logo, and Aunt Jemima, Uncle Ben’s, and Cream of Wheat are among a number of brands looking to update their image.

Finally, we’ve reached a tipping point that is changing our acceptance into action. This is the revolution our country needs.

Make no mistake, symbolic changes will not get rid of the systematic racism that continues to prevail in this country. Police brutality isn’t just happening in the South — it’s happening all over the country, including in liberal cities like Minneapolis. After all, our history of colonization and the racist ideology of white supremacy aren’t exclusive instruments to the Confederacy brand, but to the brand of the entire United States of America. 

Yet there is hope. Through these challenging times, our nation is evolving. We are beginning to acknowledge and understand our past, not from a single narrative, but from multiple perspectives. It’s human nature for people to believe what they want to believe, even if it means ignoring the truth. But there is no growth, empathy, or understanding in ignorance.

The only way of moving toward a more equitable future is by empowering ourselves — and others — through knowledge. 

Branding is not the truth. It’s an interpretation — in some cases, an illusion that holds great power, as witnessed by the rise of the Confederacy brand. We live in a time with incredible access to information, yet the lines between fact and fiction are blurred more than ever. That’s why it’s up to us to take individual responsibility — not only as responsible consumers, but as informed citizens.

We must question what is normalized, look past the persuasive narrative, and never stop seeking the truth.

To learn more about this topic, consider reading Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America by Dr. Ibram Kendi.

Top Photo: A biker rides along the perimeter of a heavily graffitied statue of Confederate general J.E.B. Stuart in Richmond, Virginia, former capital of the Confederacy. Photo by EVERGIB.

This essay was first published by Muse by Clio on July 29, 2020.

AARNxBRWN: The Prodigal Son

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Recording artist and producer AARNxBRWN dropped a new video and has a new album on the way. His musical journey over the summer coincided with a quest to find himself and justice for his people through protests and activism.

Before this summer, rapper/producer Aaron Brown, known to the music world as AARNxBRWN, didn’t consider himself an activist. But when protests started around the murder of George Floyd and people began taking to the streets to demand justice, Brown joined in. He wound up with a megaphone in his hand and a new way of thinking about his music.

Photo by LOSINGMYEGO

Since releasing his debut album, GHost, in 2019, Brown has built a reputation for his melodic production and expressive sound, as well as his dynamic lyricism. But his participation in the protests, where he marched alongside thousands of Richmonders for several weeks, made him want to record something as a means of expression. He produced the beat for his single, “Value,” and wrote the first verse after the first week or two, and returned to finish the track around a month in. 

“I finally felt like I had enough information and enough experience and enough of a story to finish,” Brown said. 

LOSINGMYEGO, a self-described “one woman multidisciplinary creative studio” and Brown’s friend, shot footage of the protests night after night using her phone and a Moment lens, unbeknownst to Brown. When he finished “Value,” she asked to make a video for the song. 

“When I finished the song she was like, ‘I need it, give me the song,” Brown said. “She put together this crazy video with all these shots I didn’t even know she had.” 

The end result is a powerful representation of the summer’s struggles. The black and white shots cut quickly from scene to scene, lingering in striking moments of visual symbolism — a fist raised in air filled with tear gas, a burning flag, masked protesters perched on the sides of the monument at Marcus-David Peters Circle. Between biting, emotional verses, Brown reminds his listeners, “know your worth / know your value.”

For Brown, knowing your worth means knowing who you are and what you deserve. He isn’t content to settle only for what bureaucracy and systems of injustice deem feasible. 

“A lot of the older folks and people were like, this is how you do it I guess, one small step at a time, and we just need to keep trucking along,” Brown said. “I think my mentality was like, I’m really tired of just piecing together equalities for us.”

Brown knows he’s new to the work of activism. His experiences in the protests and working with justice causes now have changed the way he thinks about his music, but for him, it still comes down to his talent for putting what he experiences into words and beats. It’s just that now, his subject matter is slightly different. 

“This is the first time in my life where I stepped out into the thick of something that was national, international attention,” Brown said. “A lot of my music is influenced, because I’ve been in new spaces and I’ve learned so much about my own culture and my own standing in America … It’s made my music more impactful, I think. It’s truer to me.”

Photo by LOSINGMYEGO

Taking risks has become a central theme of Brown’s upcoming album, Save Me I’m Drowning, which drops November 6. He talks about a kind of inspired urgency — a willingness to jump in the water and ignore others’ fears. 

“Now it’s like there’s a fire under my ass,” Brown said. “There’s a single off of the album … the whole concept is almost like a prodigal son story, the idea of going away and ‘jumping into water’… Taking that risk, whatever it is — whether it’s a social risk or a life risk or whatever that thing is — and people being scared of you taking that risk.”

In order to learn, the prodigal son had to leave, Brown explained. Even if it meant making mistakes, he could only gain and grow by venturing out before returning home. 

“He had to go away to get enough wisdom to understand that everything he needed was home,” Brown said. “At some point of time he had to take that jump.”

Photo by LOSINGMYEGO

For Brown, the future is all about risking dangerous waters to emerge as the person he needs to be — a prodigal son seeking justice for all. 

You can pre-order Brown’s upcoming album, Save Me I’m Drowning, at Bandcamp, where you can also hear a two-track preview of the album.

Top Photo by LOSINGMYEGO

Projecting A Clear Message

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In Chesterfield County, one couple with strong feelings about the current political climate have begun to express themselves through signs and projections on the front of their house.

A Chesterfield man named Tim Barry — no, not that one — has turned his home into a giant political projector screen.

From a tribute to Ruth Bader Ginsburg after her death to a declaration that “Breonna Taylor Deserved Better” to a projection of Biden’s infamous retort to Trump — “Will you shut up, man?” — Barry’s unashamed political messaging has drawn both support and disdain from his neighbors. 

Tim and Lauren Barry have been involved in politics for a long time, having both worked for political campaigns in the past. Tim now works in public relations for a professional organization. They live in their Chesterfield home with their two young daughters.

Barry says that the first night they projected an image, Ruth Bader Ginsburg had just passed away. 

“That was sort of the impetus to start the projections. We were talking about how upset we were about the justice passing, and the plans the Republicans were making to replace her, and we were upset,” Barry said. “We were angry about the way things were going. We knew we had to do something, and this was something we could do using our combined skills.”

Barry says that his wife, Lauren, is the person who creates the graphics that they project on the house. 

“My wife is a really talented graphics artist,” Barry said. “I do the messages, and she makes them look amazing.”

The projections are not the Barrys’ first political display, however. Earlier in the year, the couple became caught in a battle with the county over a sign in their yard. 

Tim and Lauren erected three large yellow letters in their yard after the killing of George Floyd in May. The letters — which spelled out “BLM” — have been a source of conflict between the Barrys and Chesterfield county officials. A zoning ordinance in the county prohibits residential signs from occupying over 14 square feet of space.

Most of their neighbors, however, have been supportive. The Barrys received a note from one local resident that read, “Goodness… Can I tell you how much this BLM sign means to me?” The note described the lettering as a “huge sign of hope.”

“Our feedback has been 95 percent positive,” said Barry. 

Another neighbor, speaking to Channel 8 News in Chesterfield, said she was surprised that the sign was so “in-your-face,” and said she wished that it said ALM — all lives matter. 

The letters are still securely fastened to Barry’s trees, and he has no intention of taking them down. The process to appeal the county’s decision may take several months, Barry said. 

Unlike the BLM letters in the yard, there are no county ordinances against the projector images. The Barrys start the projector at sundown, and take the image down before they go to bed around 10:30 P.M. Unless it’s raining, they project images every night. 

Tim Barry said that he is afraid of drawing too much attention to the house, in fear that someone who doesn’t like their message will retaliate. 

“I don’t want to go in and make it contentious,” Barry said. “We are genuinely afraid that someone might do something to us.”

However, the house is already gaining popularity. According to Barry, at one point the house had its own instagram page with around 2,500 followers.

Local and state politicians have supported Barry’s messaging behind the scenes as well. When the county first sent a letter to the Barrys, warning them to take down their BLM sign, Tim Barry reached out to state Senator Ghazala Hashimi to ask for support.

“She put us in touch with a senior person from the county,” said Barry. “I’ve kept her office updated on what we’re doing.”

When Barry wanted to put up a projection image in support of congresswoman Abigail Spanberger, he informed her office beforehand so they could give permission. Barry says that other politicians have commented on photos of the house on Facebook.

“People are definitely noticing it,” Barry said. “But no one has asked us to put them up there.”

There was one more thing we had to ask Barry about. Readers of RVA Mag may notice that he shares a name with local musician Tim Barry. Barry says that he’s familiar with the musician, and that he’s encountered people who were disappointed that he wasn’t the other one.

“One time I went and got my hair cut at the barbershop, and people thought it was going to be him,” Barry said. “When I walked in, they were disappointed.”

Photos courtesy Ed Holten and Tim Barry

Two Black LGBTQ Candidates Seek Richmond City Council Seats

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We sat down with City Council candidates Tavarris Spinks and Joseph S.H. Rogers to talk about their ties to Richmond, plans for their respective districts, and how they want to switch up Richmond’s representative voice.

Tavarris Spinks, 2nd District 

Tavarris Spinks, a noted participant and activist in Richmond politics, is a fifth-generation Richmonder and VCU alumnus with strong connections to the 2nd District community. He’s running to fill Councilwoman Kim Gray’s seat. 

Spinks’ childhood in a lower-income community in Richmond has informed his experience as an activist, and so has his journey to become a first-generation college graduate and a prominent member of Richmond’s political scene over the past 17 years.

“You know, I grew up in subsidized housing, like Section 8 subsidized housing,” Spinks said. “For the first several years of my life, I remember having a relatively happy childhood. My parents worked very hard to make sure that I didn’t want for anything, but they also had help from family because so much of my family lives here.”

His grandmother still lives in his old neighborhood, Spinks said, and is able to stay in her home despite rising housing costs due to subsidies for people over 65. But that experience isn’t universal, Spinks said.

“The 2nd District, in Jackson Ward, historic Jackson Ward, used to be a thriving African American enclave. But now, folks are being pushed out by political and economic forces,” he said. “Keeping those neighborhoods together, allowing people, especially black folks, to stay in their homes, is super important.”

His worldview shifted, Spinks said, when he first exited the world of his childhood during a field trip in eighth grade and saw the parts of Richmond that had wealth and well-maintained infrastructure. 

“Once you get older, you start to see the wider world. You know, it took me a while to realize, ‘Oh, we are actually quite poor compared to [other families],’” Spinks said. “We went to the VMFA and that was my first time going. And, you know, riding through Monument Avenue, and then seeing that this is still the same city.”

Attending VCU and living in the Fan gave Spinks a chance to observe the disparities in neighborhoods of Richmond in his everyday life. 

“Running in the 2nd district — this is my home. You know, it’s a great part of town,” he said. “I want to see it get better, and I want to see all of Richmond get better. City Council doesn’t just vote on issues that affect one district.”

Spinks is passionate about developing and maintaining the infrastructure of the city, specifically the accessibility of sidewalks and walkways around construction sites. He lived in the Fan for 12 years, and said he now knows “what it’s like to live in a part of town that has more access to transit services, better roads.” He sees how these issues specifically affect people in the 2nd District. But he said that even more wealthy parts of the city like the Fan and Scott’s Addition still need help with sidewalks. 

Spinks’ advocacy for accessible sidewalks stems from his familiarity with activists in the disability community, he said. He’s observed “folks who are using mobility devices, like wheelchairs, or walkers in the street, facing vehicle traffic.” His sensitivity to this issue comes from his experience thinking about the groups most impacted by the city’s decisions. 

“When I think about a policy I meet, the first thing I think about is, ‘Who tends to be vulnerable? And who can lose in this type of policy?’” Spinks said. “And going from there, I then think, ‘Okay, what are the solutions to the problem that we’re trying to solve?’” 

Photo via Tavarris Spinks/Facebook

This sensitivity extends to the issues he’s observed and lived as a Black and gay man, he said. “Just to be clear, I’m not saying that you need to be gay to understand gay issues or represent gay constituents,” Spinks said. “But, it helps.” 

Living with those two identities is “a lot, frankly, and it’s a lot to navigate,” he said.

Spinks said that while he loves his district’s open-mindedness, he’s also aware that “just 30 minutes” from where he now lives and is running for office, just “trying to exist … I’d have a very different story to tell” about living as a Black man and a member of the LGBTQ community.

“[That’s] one of the reasons why I am politically active, because of knowing how much of my liberty and freedom immediately has an effect in legislation at all levels,” Spinks said. “It made me certainly aware of ‘Who’s in power, how that power is being used, and who is it being used for? And who is it being used against?’”

That issue of which groups have power over minorities has even followed Spinks into his political work, he said. While out canvassing, he was stopped by police officers and asked what he was doing, with the suspicion that he was “up to something.”

“And I was ‘up to’ trying to get people to vote,” Spinks said. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had encounters with police, or interactions with police, that I think were unnecessary.”

Spinks is advocating for a “reimagining” of public safety and law enforcement, he said, and supports reforms that focus on the scope and budget of law enforcement. He said he believes  in returning to “core policing functions” and confronting “systemic dysfunction and racial bias within the department.” Spinks is also calling for the implementation of a citizen review board with subpoena power to oversee the Richmond Police Department. 

Often, Spinks said, law enforcement training doesn’t give officers the tools they need to handle many of the situations they’re asked to. 

“Let’s say we already lived in a place without police,” Spinks said. “And let’s imagine what it would look like for police to exist, and what their roles and functions would be, and their relationship with the people that they’re policing.”

Spinks is also reimagining what the City government’s transparency should look like, he said. He wants to “keep the government accountable and responsive to people.” Citizens shouldn’t have to file Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests to learn about the inner workings of Richmond, Spinks said. Instead, he wants every file to be freely accessible on websites. 

“People need to know why something’s not working, where the money’s going,” he said. “You need to do that, because it’s trust. So much of the City government has lost the trust of the people.”

Spinks has seen much change during his lifetime in Richmond — but he calls it growth, for the most part.

“I want to be a part of helping to guide that growth, and making sure that folks don’t get left behind,” Spinks said. “We should build a better city for everyone.”

Photo via Joseph S.H. Rogers/Facebook

Joseph S.H. Rogers, 7th District

Running for the city council seat in a district against a 12-year incumbent inherently involves “running on a platform of change,” said Joseph S. H. Rogers. While he’s a new candidate for the 7th district, which has been represented for the past 12 years by Cynthia Newbille, Rogers has old ties to Richmond.

As a historian and museum educator, Rogers tends to frame most things with historical context. One example is his family’s connection to Richmond — which is brief, but significant — through Rogers’ ancestor, James Apostle Fields, in the 19th century. “The routes that my family take through the city of Richmond is very interesting,” Rogers said.

Fields was an enslaved man that made his way to freedom from Hanover to Richmond in 1863, where he stayed with his brother John. After almost being captured into slavery again, Fields made his way to Roanoke, Virginia. That’s where Rogers was born, and where his family has been based since the 1860s. 

“I think that we have a tendency in the modern age to believe that everything is new,” Rogers said. “And that we are coming up with radical solutions, innovative and radical solutions to problems, when a lot of those solutions have already been applied. They’ve happened in the past, they have examples that we can refer to from the past. But also in some of those places where those solutions have not yet existed, it’s good to have a historical lens.”

Rogers moved to Richmond in 2014, and he’s been politically active in the city since he became a resident. He said he’s been an advocate for a Marcus Alert and a civilian review board, and part of a lobbying effort on City Hall with the Virginia Defenders for Freedom, Justice & Equality since 2017 to “make those changes be taken seriously, as well,” he said. “And I realized that we’ve been, more or less, right. We’ve been right this entire time.”

His decision to run for city council in the 7th district stems from Rogers’ observations of “rallying calls” being made for political action after George Floyd’s death, he said. But his decision wasn’t “just about George Floyd.”

“Here in the City of Richmond, it was about statues, monuments, and Marcus-David Peters,” Rogers said. “And as I listened to everything that was happening, I realized that there was a lot of anger there. But there was a lot of love that was underlying these messages. There’s also just that need for people to feel heard, and for action to be taken. And I recognize that in myself — I had been at the forefront of those issues.”

Rogers’ desire to be part of that movement came from his struggle to bring issues of reform up to the City Council. He said the lack of response led him to think “maybe we need a different City Council.”

“[Or a] councilperson who will listen to the people, before the city is actually on fire,” Rogers said. 

Rogers said he wants to try to be “that voice that works with the people in the city who are voicing these concerns, before they get to a boiling point.”

In addition to calling for the removal of Confederate statues, one reform that Rogers’ is calling for is the defunding of the Richmond Police Department. His campaign is advocating for a citizen review board, and for the City to invest in building up services that will address the tasks that police are asked to do outside of solving crime “that’s stretched them thin,” like wellness checks or responding to mental health crises. Rogers wants to “divest from the policing model, invest in the community first model.”

“Defunding the police is not even talking about a decrease of civil servants,” Rogers said. “Just different civil servants involved in these areas.”

Rogers’ perspective as a historian is once again informing his ideas for policy. His understanding of the history of crime in the 1980s and ’90s, and the police response to that, has shaped his understanding of the current issues with police departments in the U.S.

“We were told that the way to address crime was to punish criminals,” Rogers said. “Ultimately, that led to increases in funding in police departments across the country. And it led to the demonizing of the ‘criminal,’ ultimately seeing them as other. The problem is that primarily the people who they were claiming are criminals were Black people. And so disproportionately Black people were affected by these policies.”

Being a Black man and a member of the Black community, Rogers said he recognises “that these are things that we need to uplift. These are people that we need to uplift.”

Being a member of Richmond’s LGBTQ community has also led him to recognize issues he plans to pursue while on City Council. 

“I identify as bisexual. That is part of my identity. So in the same way that I bring my being a Black man, also being a bisexual Black man is a part of that conversation as well,” Rogers said. “I also want to acknowledge [that] how I plan on helping the LGBTQ community isn’t just by being bi on the council.”

He said he has plans of “putting forward policy that addresses a wide state of things” that affect the LGBTQ community, such as the high rate of homelessness for the trans community. Richmond’s high rate of homelessness in the trans community and in the larger population is “no different” than other cities, Rogers said. 

Looking at Richmond’s past, Rogers said that the problem he’s seen isn’t that the city has changed, but that “we’ve seen the ways in which it hasn’t changed, and hasn’t done better.”

“It doesn’t look like change from the outside, perhaps because we live in this big world where everything else in the nation is changing so rapidly,” Rogers said. “But then, Richmond is still struggling in those same ways that we thought we were gonna be able to move away from.”

Top Photo via Tavarris Spinks/Facebook & Joseph S.H. Rogers/Facebook

Richmond’s Big Heart Collective Shows Heart With Their Charity Live Album

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An off-the-cuff pre-pandemic live recording from Big Heart Collective, a fun side project featuring some of Richmond’s most talented rockers, has become a fundraiser and statement in support of Black lives.

For the better part of 2020, musicians around the world have been in a forced state of hibernation. Most are unable to go play shows, and many have zero access to a studio. However, 2020 has also been a time of political chaos, and the resulting spark of inspiration from these issues has motivated many artists to release whatever content they can in spite of the quarantine.

Big Heart Collective is one of these bands, and while their recently-released live album — An Evening at Cary St. Cafe — was recorded before the George Floyd protests, it’s release was still inspired by the historic event.

“It was something where I wanted to help out in whatever facet I can,” said BHC founding member Raphaël Katchinoff. “And the only way I could think of was to put a record out and then use that money to donate to causes that were worthwhile.”

The album itself is admittedly nothing too elaborate. For the most part, Big Heart Collective is a side project for all of its members. Katchinoff (Drums), Andrew Carper (Bass), Nick Michon (Guitar), Andrew Sisk (Percussion), Andrew Rapisarda (Guitar), and Tommy Booker (Keys) all play and record with other bands, including Palm Palm, The Southern Belles, The Deli Kings, and many more.

Recording this live album was not even the last music-related activity many of them did before quarantine. Katchinoff was on tour when the pandemic hit, with a band that was supposed to play South by Southwest. Unfortunately, their performance was cancelled.

Raphael Katchinoff and Andrew Carper of Big Heart Collective performing at Cary St. Cafe. Photo by Ashley Travis.

Members of the Big Heart Collective did not even originally plan on recording their set at Cary St. Cafe that night. However, their opening act, Ben Butterworth, has a habit of recording many of his live performances. That night in February, once he’d recorded his own set, he continued recording, and captured BHC’s performance as well.   

Big Heart Collective has had a steady gig at Cary St. Cafe since their origins. Katchinoff founded the group in 2017 as a way to get back into professional music after a long break from the art. The band’s first gig came on Thanksgiving night; Katchinoff assembled a lineup at the last minute. After that, Big Heart Collective became a monthly presence at Cary St. Cafe throughout 2018 and 2019.

Unfortunately, the band’s monthly live shows at the cafe have been completely postponed until the end of COVID quarantine. For now, all of BHC that is available to the public is their album.

But that’s okay, because An Evening At Cary St. Cafe‘s status as a live album by a side project makes it perfect for a charity event. It is a way to put out music during an artistic lull without straining the listener’s pocket, while simultaneously making a positive impact on the world.

Raphael Katchinoff, Nicky Michon, Andrew Sisk, and Nate Cowing of Big Heart Collective work it out at Cary St. Cafe. Photo by Ashley Travis.

“I was on the ropes about putting it out, because it’s not that great quality and it’s not our own songs,” said Katchinoff. “I would never put something out that has covers and then take money from that… The only thing I could think, to feel like it was worth putting out, was to see if I could use any funds people donated to go to organizations that I thought would stand up for the direction of what should be right in this country.”

Like many projects available for streaming on Bandcamp, BHC’s album is technically free to listen. However people may choose to donate as much as they want on the album page. 100 percent of the proceeds for the donations will go to the NAACP and Southern Poverty Law Center, two organizations that work against bigotry and fight for the rights of marginalized groups, particularly African Americans.

Top Photo: Big Heart Collective (Raphaël Katchinoff, Andrew Carper, Nicky Michon, Corey Wells, and Tommy Booker). Photo by Ashley Travis.