Black Lives Matter – Quinby & Co.

In-Brief: On Parks and Wildness

Save Our Home, Save Ourselves

I recently applied to a job that asked me to select the best pic of myself in the outdoors. It sounds like it could be an exciting one, a job where I’d be spending time in some of my favorite places, or one place depending on how you look at it. That is, the National Parks or in the broader sense, in nature.

To that point, I’ve come to see them less as individual places and it more as one larger whole. Our planet. I like that approach more.

It’s hard to say which picture could ever be the best, but this is the one I felt like posting–taken almost exactly four years ago.

Ren Michael - South Kaibob Trail - Grand Canyon - Grand Canyon National Park - Arizona - National Park - Quinby & Co. — Ren Michael on the South Kaibob Trail, Grand Canyon National Park, AZ

Much has happened since then both in my life and throughout the world, and I’ve been fortunate to have gone on many adventures in the time in between. Hopefully I’m a strong sum of those experiences, as each was its own unique reminder of my connection to both land and people.

I’m not unique in that respect, since I know many who have turned to the outdoors and felt a similar way. Restored, replenished, readjusted to the point that their day-to-day ambitions either suddenly feel silly, or are just given renewed purpose in light of the bigger realization that they are a part of something bigger than themselves and their possessions.

While I can only hope it’s enough to help us recognize the importance of preserving these places—since all of us deserve to experience the land in equal measure—above all, I hope we each begin doing our part in preserving the integrity of our environment, for the health of our planet, our one true home, for our physical health, and ultimately for our sanity.

I look back on recent years and I think about people marching against gun violence, or against corporate greed on Wall Street. I think about people marching for Black lives and for our government’s full recognition of their humanity.

And I think about two weeks ago, when everyday I stepped out and saw a smoke-filled sky blotting out the sun due to devastating regional wildfires. In the back of my mind, the fire’s reach had far exceeded the limits of the west coast where I make my home. Indeed, the larger symbolism was hard to miss.

The issues of violence, racial justice, environmental justice and economic inequality are, I believe, inter-related. The dangers of climate change for example pose the most immediate threat to Black and Brown communities, a disproportionate number of which fall below the poverty line in the United States and throughout the world–a reality most clearly demonstrated in food and water shortages not just in third-world countries, but here at home.

Tackling the threat of climate change will not automatically close the gap on income inequality or accomplish comprehensive racial justice. Still you cannot adequately address problems in your house when your house is, quite literally, on fire; and truly, the fight for a healthy planet has the power to bring people of different backgrounds and beliefs together, likely more so than any movement we’ve ever witnessed. More to the point, it’s the understanding of our interconnectedness that will ultimately save us in virtually every domestic and global conflict we experience; and nowhere is that realization more critical than in the necessary global effort to mitigate climate change by cultivating a cleaner and more sustainable world for all people.

The act of getting outdoors, spending time in our public lands and in the broader wilderness of the world has the unique power to reinforce the fundamental reality of our interdependence and dependence on the land. It’s just one of many reasons why it’s so important they stay preserved and protected.

I often reflect on whether it will just be an ongoing battle for every generation between people committed to preserving our wilderness for the public benefit, and the people who seek to exploit the land for their own profit.

I hope that it won’t. Maybe the dual threats of climate change and a global pandemic will convince people of their stake in each other’s health and the health of our planet, and the influence will carry over through generations to come.

I only know that the need for such a realization has never been so urgent.

As for our wilderness, and it’s unmatched beauty and healing power, for now there’s little more I can say, other than to simply go, as soon as you can, and experience it for yourself.

Let’s please take care of our home. I am committed to doing my part and I hope you will join me. The Sierra Club is one of our nation’s most enduring and influential forces for environmental action and awareness. I’ve been a member for a couple years now and I urge you to consider joining and lending your support as well.

Let’s get to work.

*Take Action –> www.sierraclub.org

Friends of the Earth Action https://foeaction.org/

Natural Resources Defense Council https://www.nrdc.org/

National Parks Foundation https://www.nationalparks.org/

In Focus: The John R. Lewis Voting Rights Act of 2020

John Lewis has received a great deal of praise over the last several weeks following his passing in July.

Everyone from former presidents and congressional leaders to the innumerable voices in social media have highlighted his legacy fighting for Civil Rights both on the streets as he marched with Martin Luther King and in the halls of Congress where he served as a Georgia Representative for over 30 years.

We’ve heard about his near-death encounter with Alabama State Troopers on the Edmund Pettus Bridge while peacefully marching for the equal right to vote, and his multiple arrests in the name of what he called getting into good, necessary trouble.

What few people may realize is how the very thing for which he fought has been jeopardized these last seven years, and how its restoration formed a driving cause to which he dedicated his remaining years as a legislator and citizen.

In 2013, the Supreme Court removed a key component of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, one that required districts with a history of voter suppression to get federal approval, or preclearance, before making any changes to their election laws.

The Court ruled that the provision as it stood was based on antiquated data, essentially stating that the barriers which once disenfranchised Black voters in those districts no longer exist. If the Federal Government wanted to reclaim its oversight, the Court ruled, it would have to do so based on contemporary data.

So while the preclearance provision still exists, it’s no longer being applied, since the specific districts once required to get the federal approval are no longer required to do so. Many of these districts are comprised of southern Black communities.

“Today the Supreme Court stuck a dagger in the heart of the Voting Rights Act of 1965,” said Lewis at the time of the ruling. “They’re saying, in effect that history cannot repeat itself. But I say come and walk in my shoes.”

While it’s true that the more overt forms of voter suppression are gone–such as poll taxes and literacy tests–many others still remain such as the restricting of early voting, the arbitrary re-drawing of district maps, strict voter identification laws, and the closing of over 1,600 polling places between 2012 and 2018 in those same districts once required to get federal approval before making any of these changes. In Texas, 750 polling places closed following the Court ruling. Most of these closures took place between the 2014 and 2018 mid-term elections.

In December, the House passed a bill to restore the Voting Rights Act. Congressman Lewis led the drafting of the bill, which was based on the updated data the Court had ruled necessary. After the congressman’s passing in July, the bill was renamed in his honor–The John R. Lewis Voting Rights Act of 2020.

It has yet to be passed in the Senate. It currently sits on Majority Leader Mitch McConnell’s desk, as it has for well over 200 days.

Without a Democratic majority in the Senate, and while President Trump remains in office with his power to veto, it is unlikely the bill will be signed into law.

Note: Election Day has yet to be declared a federal holiday, though it consistently falls on work days in which many Americans don’t have the time to get to their polling place and vote. Colombus Day, meanwhile, is still a federal holiday. Let’s all vote this year, yes?

Here are resources to take action.

https://support.naacp.org/a/john-lewis-voting-rights-act-passes-house”>https://support.naacp.org/a/john-lewis-voting-rights-act-passes-house

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*The following data was compiled by the Leadership Conference Education Fund, a research arm of the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights: http://civilrightsdocs.info/pdf/reports/Democracy-Diverted.pdf

My (Latina) White Privilege

I am Latina. I am a Woman. I’m a child of immigrants. But I am also white facing, meaning I have benefited from white privilege all my life. While this isn’t news to me, I never really understood the true gravity of such privilege until a few months ago.

Our Black and Brown communities have been on the receiving end of violence, terror, extreme injustice and racism for hundreds of years. I have grown up in a system that continues to oppress and quiet BIPOC, along with their respective histories, their achievements, their beauty and most importantly their humanity.

I’ve always considered myself lucky to be a free American. I was equally lucky to have been raised speaking Spanish at home with family while spending my childhood summers in Colombia, experiencing another culture in a country that is home to vast populations of Black and Indigenous communities.

I felt like I was part of a diverse and open-minded community. I still feel that way. However, the privilege of being white was never addressed, so I was oblivious to how it positively affected my life and, more importantly, how it negatively affected the Black and Brown lives around me.

While racism runs deep in Colombia–as it does for much of Latin America and the Caribbean–what’s more specifically common is colorism, which is the preferential treatment of those who are lighter-skinned compared to those who are darker, even though both are of the same race. In Latin communities then, it’s especially common to hear things like, “you’re not Black, you’re [insert country here], or even comments about the type of hair you have, “at least you have good hair,” etc.

As children, we are essentially taught that having lighter skin is more beautiful and that darker skin is less preferred. If you do have darker skin, you are constantly warned, not quite half-jokingly, to stay out of the sun so that you don’t get any darker.

Even the telenovelas we are so used to watching are filled with light-skinned actors taking up the major roles, while the darker-skinned actors usually portray the ‘help.’

And so while I never grew up around any overt displays of racism, I also did not grow up with any understanding of what it meant to be anti-racist, or much less why it is vital.

As detailed above, the society we live in and the system by which this world functions is inherently racist, and built to mainly benefit white people while simultaneously oppressing BIPOC. As it’s embedded within everything around us, it becomes more natural for us to grow up harboring certain prejudices about people and their skin color without even realizing it.

Salento, Colombia - Quinby & Co. — Andrea Pavlov in the Valle de Cocora; Quindío, Colombia

It’s imperative for us to acknowledge this fact and then get to work on changing it. As Ijeoma Oluo, NYT Best Selling Author of ‘So You Want To Talk About Race’ (@ijeomaoluo) so eloquently puts it:

“The beauty of anti-racism is that you don’t have to pretend to be free of racism to be an anti-racist. Anti-racism is the commitment to fight racism wherever you find it, including in yourself. And it’s the only way forward.”

I have engaged in behavior that I regret, making excuses for family members who “don’t know better” because they’re of an older generation, staying quiet when someone has made an offensive “joke” or has said something ignorant or offensive because “they probably didn’t really mean it.” Colorism was very much a part of being raised Latina.

I now realize the dangers of staying silent and I am committed to actively participating in unlearning the harmful ideologies to which we’ve grown accustomed. We are talking about racism at home regularly, and addressing our own white privilege. I have addressed these topics with family and we’ve talked about the ways we can be better and change and eliminate colorism from our vocabulary. I have done a “clean up” of my social media feeds, getting rid of accounts that do not serve in uplifting BIPOC and subscribing to new voices I’d never heard before whether they’re in the arts or civic action.

I recently found Rachel Cargle (@rachel.cargle) who offers a wealth of knowledge and resources for anyone looking to be an ally to BIPOC and specifically Black women, who are the most affected. She founded The Loveland Foundation (@thelovelandfoundation) which provides free therapy for Black women and girls, and she curates a monthly self-paced syllabi at The Great Unlearn (@thegreatunlearn) where she currently has a free 30-day course called #DoTheWork. I began the course earlier this week, and I’m now on day three.

I really encourage you to do more research, ask questions, learn and unlearn, and when you know better, do better. It is perfectly ok to change your mind when you’ve learned more about a subject. That is how we grow and evolve. These are small steps we must begin taking in order to begin dismantling the systems, institutions and ideologies that continue to negatively affect BIPOC and their communities.

Black lives matter. All black lives matter and are beautiful and worthy and deserving.

We are in this together, friends. As white people and Latinxs, we must step forward and stand with our Black and Brown family.

And above all, we must no longer stay quiet.

Portraits of American Music: Robert Johnson

Editors Note: In the spirit of honoring Black voices, we here at Quinby & Co. wanted to launch an ongoing series in tribute to the giants of American Music, a strong majority of whom are Black. Far from being mere adherence to the times or simply doing what is trending or currently in vogue, this is something that is both extremely important to us and something that is distinctly us.

These artists are our heroes. Their music is a gift to our country and to the world. Furthermore, that music is a big part of who we are. It has largely informed the culture of this magazine. Without it, we would not be here. In honoring these voices, we honor our roots and we honor ourselves.

Before we continue please consider visiting this link to see how you can help in the fight for universal equality and justice. Thank You.

This is part of an ongoing series, and though the soon-to-be-mentioned list does follow something of a ranking system, we will be covering each placeholder out of order.

Thanks and Praises

Ren Michael

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Lately I’ve been thinking about the greatest American musicians. A Mount Rushmore of those who’ve shaped the music and shifted the collective consciousness through their work.

On the one hand, I think any sort of ranking system is crude and just plain ol’ silly when it comes to music, or any kind of art. On the other hand, it’s also kind of fun once you’ve surrendered any lingering claim to objectivity. The exercise is, at the very least, just a display of affection for the music and the people who’ve shaped it.

Why did I focus on American music? Well for one thing–besides the fact that I’m American–in my most humble opinion, American music is simply the greatest composed in the last 100 years.

Our English cousins across the pond would likely agree. That so-called British Invasion was, after all, an influx of British musicians coming to America and playing rock n’ roll remixed with a heavy dose of delta and Chicago blues.

Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more inclined I was to go ahead and do it. It remains a fun thing to think about, something that made me happy to sketch out during these unusual times.

Alright so here we go. This is my Mt. Rushmore of American musicians.

1. Louis Armstrong
2. Frank Sinatra
3. Robert Johnson
4. Bob Dylan

Choosing those four was actually easier than I thought it’d be. What proved more difficult was deciding between Johnson and Dylan for the number three spot. Both were songwriters as well as musicians, which interestingly enough, applies to neither of the top two. Still, if this is a broader discussion of musicianship as opposed to songwriting, then I think more credit goes to Robert Johnson. His playing, his technical wizardry across the fretboard, continues to influence guitarists all over the world.

Robert Johnson-King of the Delta Blues Singers — King of the Delta Blues Singers by Robert Johnson; Compilation album released posthumously in 1961 by Columbia Records

Yet while this isn’t a discussion about songwriting alone, any artist’s ability to write lyrics ought to play a role in assessing and appreciating their work. On that score, Johnson again surpasses pretty much every other composer in the blues. For me, the lyrics of ‘Love in Vain’ offer a sample of his poetic depth and economy.

I followed her to the station, with her suitcase in my hand
I followed her to the station, with her suitcase in my hand
It’s hard to tell, so hard to tell, when all your love’s in vain

When the train pulled into the station, I looked her in the eyes
When the train pulled into the station, I looked her in the eyes
I felt so sad, so lonesome, I couldn’t help but cry

When the train left the station, it had two lights on behind
When the train left the station, it had two lights on behind
The blue light was my baby, the red light was my mind

Robert Johnson, ‘Love in Vain’

I’ve always appreciated anyone’s ability to create anything with so little at their disposal, who reaffirm the creed that less is more and showcase the unfailing sophistication of simplicity. I think, in using what ultimately amounts to just six sentences, Johnson achieves that here; as he did in so many of his songs.

He also took a classic setting, one that’s been in more romantic dramas of both film and literature than I can count–a train station where two lovers are saying goodbye–and evokes the core emotional dilemma with subtlety and grace, stripping away melodrama.

As a result, the song stands the test of time. It could have been written yesterday, or any other day. And the hero’s conflict is universally relatable.

It’s just one mark of superb artistry, one of many that makes Robert Johnson the father of the blues and by extension, rock n’ roll.

And still, very little is known about him. Only two photographs remain in which we can even be sure it’s him. Robert Johnson was born in Mississippi in 1911, and started playing in local juke joints at an early age. According to friends and acquaintances–whose accounts form the majority of what we know about him at all, aside from the music–Johnson demonstrated enthusiasm for playing but only moderate ability and showmanship.

Then he disappeared for about a month before returning doing things on the guitar that nobody had ever seen. The remarkable change sparked rumors which eventually birthed the now-popular legend that he sold his soul to the devil, down at the Mississippi crossroads, in exchange for mastery of the guitar.

Not long after, he recorded songs over the period of a couple days in San Antonio, songs which today seem painfully few in number, a precious selection that would ultimately cement his legacy.

The recordings reached the ear of John Hammond at Columbia Records in New York. Eager to book Johnson for an upcoming bill at Carnegie Hall, he sent word down south to find him, only to discover that Johnson had died just weeks before. The story was that he’d been poisoned by a jealous husband, who’d discovered that Johnson was having an affair with his wife. He was 27 years old.

When it comes to the legend surround his life, it’s important to not get carried away particularly regarding the devil at the crossroads. Myths have and likely always will lend meaning and vibrancy to our lives, often acting as roadmaps in navigating deeper universal truths.

But if we treat them as gospel, then–in this case for example–they diminish the virtues of practice and dedication to craft. Indulging the image of Johnson being aided by a supernatural force comes at the expense of recognizing a man of natural ability and instinct, who put in the time to become who he wanted to be, or at least get a little closer to it.

What remains the most enduring fact of Robert Johnson’s legacy lies in those recordings. There is very little production involved. Listening to them, you get the feeling that he might have just walked in, cut them real quick in the span of a few hours, and then left, going about his business with little to no expectation of what might come of it.

Like many recordings of that early era, you can still hear the grainy, scratchy sounds of what is still a new medium, one through which America, for the first time in it’s history, is beginning to hear itself. You can hear a young man, playing his music. Little did he know that one day, his music would change the world.

Have a listen, friends. We recommend playing it early in the morning, maybe with your first cup of coffee. Or maybe at night if there’s a full moon or if you’ve got a nice view of the stars.

I often look up when I hear the music, and I consider a life on earth cut short, but a spirit that endures in some form or another like those stars in the far reaches of space, assuming their own rightful place among the grand tapestry of the cosmos.

We hope you join us in raising a glass to a profoundly gifted artist, and a true national treasure. Robert Johnson.

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A personal statement

In recent years, as a rising number of voices far more qualified than my own began speaking out on racism from the standpoint of their personal experience, in movements like Black Lives Matter, I thought it more appropriate to speak less and listen more.

While it was mainly an act of deference, it also partly came from a fear that my own voice might further add to what I viewed as a dangerously monotonous chorus perpetuated by social media, a superficial facade of allegiance rooted less in justice and more in fashion, something I saw as alarmingly characteristic among people–particularly in the white community–in this rising technological and social media age.

While this point of view had some merit, it’s one I can no longer fully practice. I’ve had the opportunity to educate myself more deeply over the last few years, and while that experience certainly continues, my silence has reached it’s end.

I am a musician. I play American music. I often play what some people call Roots music. The term is typically used to group together folk music, jazz and the blues—art forms unique to America that shaped the music we enjoy today, an enduring tradition through which we continually express ourselves.

As such, it’s a useful conduit to understanding the broader history and dynamic character of this country. While all communities have shaped and continue to shape that character, it is critical to understand that Black people specifically laid down this country’s foundations—both literally and to a large extent, culturally. For me, a great part of understanding that foundation has been through the music they’ve given to America, and to the world.

This wasn’t an act of mere patronage on my part. It wasn’t done out of pity or wanting to better understand a community that I viewed as separate from my own, much less from me. It was an act of studying my country and by extension, myself. It’s been an intensely personal, at times painful, and ultimately gratifying experience.

Still, as I continue along this road, which often feels cyclical as well as linear, I’ve returned to one specific realization over the past few weeks. It’s simply impossible for me to continue playing American music without actively speaking out against racism. To do so would be a betrayal of my personal and artistic roots and to the generations of people who profoundly shaped our country and way of life, one that I celebrate every time I sing, or strum the guitar.

I recognize that they aren’t my ancestors, but without question, they are my musical forbearers; and I cannot, I will not turn my back on them. To do so would be to turn away from myself.

So while this is just a brief summary of my own personal experience as an artist and American citizen, my ultimate intention is that is serves as a call to action for anyone still ambivalent about their stake in this country, in something bigger than themselves.

We must fully recognize racial justice as a cause relevant to more than just one community, and recognize the necessity of it being no longer their fight, but our fight. What happens to one of us will and should affect the other. The riots in our cities are living proof of that universal reality, and while I don’t advocate violence, I implore everyone to communicate, openly and with respect, preferably face to face.

To abstain is to compromise not only the welfare and prosperity of one people, but the soul and lasting integrity of our country.

Until these virtues are fully realized, so long as people of color continue to suffer under the tyranny of systemic racism, persecution and oppression, we should–at the very least–expect people to kneel when we sing the national anthem.

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Resources to Take Action

https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/