Tuesday, 29 November 2022

ACLU: Lessons Learned from Our Classroom Censorship Win Against Florida’s Stop W.O.K.E. Act

Lessons Learned from Our Classroom Censorship Win Against Florida’s Stop W.O.K.E. Act

Earlier this month, a federal judge blocked Florida from enforcing the Stop Wrongs Against Our Kids Act (Stop W.O.K.E. Act) in the state’s colleges and universities. Florida is just one of over a dozen states across the country that have passed laws censoring discussions around race and gender in the classroom, and this is the first time a court has ruled that this type of classroom censorship law is unconstitutional. This preliminary victory could present an opportunity to bolster similar challenges to classroom censorship efforts nationwide.

The order came in a lawsuit we filed on behalf of seven instructors and one student in colleges and universities across Florida to challenge the Stop W.O.K.E. Act, which limits the ways concepts related to systemic racism and sex discrimination can be discussed in teaching or conducting training in workplaces or schools. The concepts were parroted from Executive Order 13950, issued by then President Trump and rescinded by President Biden, and have been incorporated in similar classroom censorship laws introduced and passed in other states.

We argued the law violated the First and Fourteenth Amendments because it restricts instructors from teaching and students from learning certain viewpoints, the law is unconstitutionally vague, and it intentionally discriminates against Black instructors and students. The order describes the law as “positively dystopian,” and makes the following key findings that could be leveraged to challenge similar classroom censorship legislation in other states:


1) Instruction in higher education is protected by the First Amendment and academic freedom.

In response to our lawsuit, Florida terrifyingly asserted that it had the absolute right to control what educators can teach because it is government speech, noting that university professors are public employees. This claim contradicts the longstanding recognition that academic freedom is a “special concern” of the First Amendment. In the university setting, this means the First Amendment protects universities’ and professors’ right to make teaching choices without government censorship targeting disfavored viewpoints. The state’s position that university instructors are “simply the state’s mouthpieces” could have dangerous consequences, including allowing the state to literally dictate lessons and have educators simply read from a script. The order held that educators’ First Amendment right to teach concepts prohibited by the Stop W.O.K.E. Act far outweighed the state’s interest in indoctrinating students to its preferred viewpoint.


2) University students have their own First Amendment right to receive information — including concepts related to racism and sexism prohibited by the Stop W.O.K.E. Act.

The order recognized that the First Amendment protects not only the right to speak, but also the right to receive information. In the higher education context, the court held that the scope of a student’s First Amendment right to receive information corresponds to the instructors’ First Amendment right to share.


3) Like the Stop W.O.K.E. Act, other classroom censorship laws are vulnerable to challenge as unconstitutional, viewpoint-based restrictions.

The Stop W.O.K.E. Act limited instruction to viewpoints that the legislature agreed with, even when those viewpoints contradict research, academic scholarship, and foundational understandings of academic disciplines. Based on their academic training and research, our professor plaintiffs teach that some people are disadvantaged in America, and particularly in the criminal legal system, due to their race; describe the existence of “white privilege” and its impact in society; and advocate for affirmative action to ensure campus diversity. The Stop W.O.K.E. Act forced our professor plaintiffs to choose between teaching these evidence-supported concepts, which are foundational in their field, or censoring their viewpoints to comply with the law. As Judge Mark Walker noted, “[t]he law officially bans professors from expressing disfavored viewpoints in university classrooms while permitting unfettered expression of the opposite viewpoints,” in contravention of the First Amendment.


4) The Stop W.O.K.E. Act was unconstitutionally vague on various grounds.

First, the eight concepts prohibited by the law are vague. The order found that some of the prohibited concepts were impossible to interpret within the context of university instruction because of its complicated wording or ambiguous meaning. For example, the law permits discussion of these concepts if presented in an objective manner and without endorsement. However, the state argued that any promotion of the prohibited concepts would violate the law, so the state’s interpretation of “objectivity” was ambiguous because it only permits educators to present the concepts in a negative light. The court noted that professors could not organize a debate about the merits of affirmative action because any speaker that argued in favor of affirmative action would violate the Stop W.O.K.E. Act. The court also recognized that the lack of explicit standards about “objectivity” would allow arbitrary, and potentially discriminatory, enforcement of the law.


5) The state’s attempts to justify the censorship as an antidiscrimination effort to reduce racism was a failed effort.

“Defendants try to dress up the State of Florida’s interest as a public employer and educator as prohibiting discrimination in university classrooms, but this does not give defendants a safe harbor in which to enforce viewpoint-based restrictions targeting protected speech,” wrote Judge Walker. Arguing that the Stop W.O.K.E. Act is an anti-discrimination law is a red herring. To be clear, education gag orders do not serve antidiscrimination purposes. They are thinly veiled speech restrictions without any attempt to limit discriminatory actions.

We are currently challenging classroom censorship laws in Florida, Oklahoma, and New Hampshire, and hope these findings will bolster these challenges and censorship efforts across the nation. We will not stop fighting for students’ and educators’ right to teach and learn free from state censorship and discrimination.

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Donate today

Published November 30, 2022 at 02:54AM
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ACLU: Lessons Learned from Our Classroom Censorship Win Against Florida’s Stop W.O.K.E. Act

Lessons Learned from Our Classroom Censorship Win Against Florida’s Stop W.O.K.E. Act

Earlier this month, a federal judge blocked Florida from enforcing the Stop Wrongs Against Our Kids Act (Stop W.O.K.E. Act) in the state’s colleges and universities. Florida is just one of over a dozen states across the country that have passed laws censoring discussions around race and gender in the classroom, and this is the first time a court has ruled that this type of classroom censorship law is unconstitutional. This preliminary victory could present an opportunity to bolster similar challenges to classroom censorship efforts nationwide.

The order came in a lawsuit we filed on behalf of seven instructors and one student in colleges and universities across Florida to challenge the Stop W.O.K.E. Act, which limits the ways concepts related to systemic racism and sex discrimination can be discussed in teaching or conducting training in workplaces or schools. The concepts were parroted from Executive Order 13950, issued by then President Trump and rescinded by President Biden, and have been incorporated in similar classroom censorship laws introduced and passed in other states.

We argued the law violated the First and Fourteenth Amendments because it restricts instructors from teaching and students from learning certain viewpoints, the law is unconstitutionally vague, and it intentionally discriminates against Black instructors and students. The order describes the law as “positively dystopian,” and makes the following key findings that could be leveraged to challenge similar classroom censorship legislation in other states:


1) Instruction in higher education is protected by the First Amendment and academic freedom.

In response to our lawsuit, Florida terrifyingly asserted that it had the absolute right to control what educators can teach because it is government speech, noting that university professors are public employees. This claim contradicts the longstanding recognition that academic freedom is a “special concern” of the First Amendment. In the university setting, this means the First Amendment protects universities’ and professors’ right to make teaching choices without government censorship targeting disfavored viewpoints. The state’s position that university instructors are “simply the state’s mouthpieces” could have dangerous consequences, including allowing the state to literally dictate lessons and have educators simply read from a script. The order held that educators’ First Amendment right to teach concepts prohibited by the Stop W.O.K.E. Act far outweighed the state’s interest in indoctrinating students to its preferred viewpoint.


2) University students have their own First Amendment right to receive information — including concepts related to racism and sexism prohibited by the Stop W.O.K.E. Act.

The order recognized that the First Amendment protects not only the right to speak, but also the right to receive information. In the higher education context, the court held that the scope of a student’s First Amendment right to receive information corresponds to the instructors’ First Amendment right to share.


3) Like the Stop W.O.K.E. Act, other classroom censorship laws are vulnerable to challenge as unconstitutional, viewpoint-based restrictions.

The Stop W.O.K.E. Act limited instruction to viewpoints that the legislature agreed with, even when those viewpoints contradict research, academic scholarship, and foundational understandings of academic disciplines. Based on their academic training and research, our professor plaintiffs teach that some people are disadvantaged in America, and particularly in the criminal legal system, due to their race; describe the existence of “white privilege” and its impact in society; and advocate for affirmative action to ensure campus diversity. The Stop W.O.K.E. Act forced our professor plaintiffs to choose between teaching these evidence-supported concepts, which are foundational in their field, or censoring their viewpoints to comply with the law. As Judge Mark Walker noted, “[t]he law officially bans professors from expressing disfavored viewpoints in university classrooms while permitting unfettered expression of the opposite viewpoints,” in contravention of the First Amendment.


4) The Stop W.O.K.E. Act was unconstitutionally vague on various grounds.

First, the eight concepts prohibited by the law are vague. The order found that some of the prohibited concepts were impossible to interpret within the context of university instruction because of its complicated wording or ambiguous meaning. For example, the law permits discussion of these concepts if presented in an objective manner and without endorsement. However, the state argued that any promotion of the prohibited concepts would violate the law, so the state’s interpretation of “objectivity” was ambiguous because it only permits educators to present the concepts in a negative light. The court noted that professors could not organize a debate about the merits of affirmative action because any speaker that argued in favor of affirmative action would violate the Stop W.O.K.E. Act. The court also recognized that the lack of explicit standards about “objectivity” would allow arbitrary, and potentially discriminatory, enforcement of the law.


5) The state’s attempts to justify the censorship as an antidiscrimination effort to reduce racism was a failed effort.

“Defendants try to dress up the State of Florida’s interest as a public employer and educator as prohibiting discrimination in university classrooms, but this does not give defendants a safe harbor in which to enforce viewpoint-based restrictions targeting protected speech,” wrote Judge Walker. Arguing that the Stop W.O.K.E. Act is an anti-discrimination law is a red herring. To be clear, education gag orders do not serve antidiscrimination purposes. They are thinly veiled speech restrictions without any attempt to limit discriminatory actions.

We are currently challenging classroom censorship laws in Florida, Oklahoma, and New Hampshire, and hope these findings will bolster these challenges and censorship efforts across the nation. We will not stop fighting for students’ and educators’ right to teach and learn free from state censorship and discrimination.

We need you with us to keep fighting
Donate today

Published November 29, 2022 at 09:24PM
via ACLU https://ift.tt/YOVTpIk

Republic of North Macedonia: Request for an Arrangement under the Precautionary and Liquidity Line-Press Release; Staff Report; and Statement by the Executive Director for Republic of North Macedonia

Republic of North Macedonia: Request for an Arrangement under the Precautionary and Liquidity Line-Press Release; Staff Report; and Statement by the Executive Director for Republic of North Macedonia
Published November 29, 2022 at 08:00AM
Read more at imf.org

Monday, 28 November 2022

ACLU: Missouri is Trying to Bar Me From My Father’s Execution. Governor Parson Must Intervene.

Missouri is Trying to Bar Me From My Father’s Execution. Governor Parson Must Intervene.

Corionsa “Khorry” Ramey is the daughter of Kevin Johnson, Jr., who is scheduled to be executed on Nov. 29, 2022 by the state of Missouri. On Nov. 21, 2022, the ACLU brought a lawsuit on behalf of Khorry, challenging a Missouri law that bars people under the age of 21 from being witnesses at an execution. Kevin included Khorry on his witness list, and she wants to be there. On November 25, a federal court denied Khorry’s request. Here, Khorry explains why she wants to be with her dad in his final moments.

My name is Khorry Ramey, I’m currently 19 years old. I am a new mom to my baby son Kaius, and I work as a nursing assistant in the St. Louis area, where I have lived my whole life. In 2005, when I was 2 years old, my father, Kevin Johnson, Jr., was arrested and charged with capital murder for the shooting death of William McEntee. My father was convicted and sentenced to death. In 2007, when I was 4 years old, my mother, Dana Ramey, was murdered in front of me by her ex-boyfriend.

My dad has been my only parent for almost all my life, and he is the most important person in my life. For as long as I can remember since his incarceration, I went to see him as often as family and friends could take me to the prison, and I speak to him by phone at least once a week. I also correspond with him several times a week through the Missouri prison system’s email and tablets, as I can afford it.

From prison, my dad arranged to have an academic liaison with my school so that the school could update him on my grades and my performance. He monitored my assignments and grades until I graduated from high school in 2020. Throughout my years in school, he encouraged me to study and complete my high school studies, and held me accountable to try my hardest in class. My dad continues to encourage me to pursue my educational and career ambitions as a nurse.

My dad has given me advice and guidance on my personal relationships, family relationships, and life choices. There is not anyone else in my life who understands me the way that he does.

I gave birth to Kaius in September 2022, and my dad is my biggest source of support, advice, and love as I navigate adjusting to being a new mom. On Oct. 18, 2022, I was able to visit my dad with my baby son so that they could meet each other. My dad was able to hold his grandson, and we were able to get photographs taken together. It was a beautiful but bittersweet moment for me, because I realized that it might be the only time that my dad would get to hold his grandson.

A photo Khorry Ramey, Kevin Johnson Jr., and baby Kaius.

A photo Khorry Ramey, Kevin Johnson Jr., and baby Kaius.

Credit: Khorry Ramey

I recently learned that Missouri law won’t let anyone under the age of 21 witness an execution. I am 19 years old, and except for not being allowed to buy alcohol until I am 21, it is my understanding that I am considered an adult for all other purposes in the eyes of the law. My dad has listed me as a witness he wants present at his execution and asked me to be present. As his only child, I want to be a witness to his execution.

I am my dad’s closest living blood relative, and he is mine, other than my baby son. If my dad were dying in the hospital, I would sit by his bed holding his hand and praying for him until his death, both as a source of support for him, and as a support for me as a necessary part of my grieving process and for my peace of mind.

I have suffered so much loss in my life. It is excruciating to know that I am about to lose my dad all over again when the state kills him, yet I cannot be present for his death simply because of my age. The fact that I will not be able to give him comfort and experience any sort of grief and closure for myself, for no other reason than my age, is a new and fresh loss, and a total injustice.

My dad was 19 years old when he tragically killed another person, as I am now. If the State of Missouri thinks that my father’s actions at age 19 make him mature enough to be executed, then it makes no sense that under Missouri law, an adult who is 19 is not mature enough to be present at that person’s execution.

I hope and pray that the Missouri Gov. Michael Parson will grant clemency to my dad. He is a good father, and he has worked very hard to raise me and become a good man in prison.

But if there is no clemency for my dad, and the state of Missouri goes through with my father’s execution, then the state should be ordered to let me be present at his execution now, despite the law. Or the execution should be delayed until I am at least 21, and under Missouri law, finally able to be a witness when the state takes my only living parent away from me.

The harm that I will suffer if Missouri officials bar me from attending my father’s execution for no other reason than my current age is deep and cannot be fixed. Gov. Parson, please do the right thing.

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Published November 28, 2022 at 11:08PM
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ACLU: Missouri is Trying to Bar Me From My Father’s Execution. Governor Parson Must Intervene.

Missouri is Trying to Bar Me From My Father’s Execution. Governor Parson Must Intervene.

Corionsa “Khorry” Ramey is the daughter of Kevin Johnson, Jr., who is scheduled to be executed on Nov. 29, 2022 by the state of Missouri. On Nov. 21, 2022, the ACLU brought a lawsuit on behalf of Khorry, challenging a Missouri law that bars people under the age of 21 from being witnesses at an execution. Kevin included Khorry on his witness list, and she wants to be there. On November 25, a federal court denied Khorry’s request. Here, Khorry explains why she wants to be with her dad in his final moments.

My name is Khorry Ramey, I’m currently 19 years old. I am a new mom to my baby son Kaius, and I work as a nursing assistant in the St. Louis area, where I have lived my whole life. In 2005, when I was 2 years old, my father, Kevin Johnson, Jr., was arrested and charged with capital murder for the shooting death of William McEntee. My father was convicted and sentenced to death. In 2007, when I was 4 years old, my mother, Dana Ramey, was murdered in front of me by her ex-boyfriend.

My dad has been my only parent for almost all my life, and he is the most important person in my life. For as long as I can remember since his incarceration, I went to see him as often as family and friends could take me to the prison, and I speak to him by phone at least once a week. I also correspond with him several times a week through the Missouri prison system’s email and tablets, as I can afford it.

From prison, my dad arranged to have an academic liaison with my school so that the school could update him on my grades and my performance. He monitored my assignments and grades until I graduated from high school in 2020. Throughout my years in school, he encouraged me to study and complete my high school studies, and held me accountable to try my hardest in class. My dad continues to encourage me to pursue my educational and career ambitions as a nurse.

My dad has given me advice and guidance on my personal relationships, family relationships, and life choices. There is not anyone else in my life who understands me the way that he does.

I gave birth to Kaius in September 2022, and my dad is my biggest source of support, advice, and love as I navigate adjusting to being a new mom. On Oct. 18, 2022, I was able to visit my dad with my baby son so that they could meet each other. My dad was able to hold his grandson, and we were able to get photographs taken together. It was a beautiful but bittersweet moment for me, because I realized that it might be the only time that my dad would get to hold his grandson.

A photo Khorry Ramey, Kevin Johnson Jr., and baby Kaius.

A photo Khorry Ramey, Kevin Johnson Jr., and baby Kaius.

Credit: Khorry Ramey

I recently learned that Missouri law won’t let anyone under the age of 21 witness an execution. I am 19 years old, and except for not being allowed to buy alcohol until I am 21, it is my understanding that I am considered an adult for all other purposes in the eyes of the law. My dad has listed me as a witness he wants present at his execution and asked me to be present. As his only child, I want to be a witness to his execution.

I am my dad’s closest living blood relative, and he is mine, other than my baby son. If my dad were dying in the hospital, I would sit by his bed holding his hand and praying for him until his death, both as a source of support for him, and as a support for me as a necessary part of my grieving process and for my peace of mind.

I have suffered so much loss in my life. It is excruciating to know that I am about to lose my dad all over again when the state kills him, yet I cannot be present for his death simply because of my age. The fact that I will not be able to give him comfort and experience any sort of grief and closure for myself, for no other reason than my age, is a new and fresh loss, and a total injustice.

My dad was 19 years old when he tragically killed another person, as I am now. If the State of Missouri thinks that my father’s actions at age 19 make him mature enough to be executed, then it makes no sense that under Missouri law, an adult who is 19 is not mature enough to be present at that person’s execution.

I hope and pray that the Missouri Gov. Michael Parson will grant clemency to my dad. He is a good father, and he has worked very hard to raise me and become a good man in prison.

But if there is no clemency for my dad, and the state of Missouri goes through with my father’s execution, then the state should be ordered to let me be present at his execution now, despite the law. Or the execution should be delayed until I am at least 21, and under Missouri law, finally able to be a witness when the state takes my only living parent away from me.

The harm that I will suffer if Missouri officials bar me from attending my father’s execution for no other reason than my current age is deep and cannot be fixed. Gov. Parson, please do the right thing.

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Donate today

Published November 28, 2022 at 05:38PM
via ACLU https://ift.tt/xX4zbFW

Wednesday, 23 November 2022

ACLU: 20 Years Later, It’s Time to Overhaul the Department of Homeland Security

20 Years Later, It’s Time to Overhaul the Department of Homeland Security

Twenty years ago, President George W. Bush signed legislation authorizing the largest reorganization of the federal government in more than half a century — piecing 22 offices from five departments into one enormous bureaucracy: the Department of Homeland Security (DHS).

In a paper published this week, we set out 15 reforms to DHS for the Biden administration and Congress to consider. We call for important fixes to the way DHS operates–but its problems run deep, and this moment requires a serious reckoning, which includes a fundamental restructuring.

Twenty years later, it’s past time to seriously reconsider DHS. Its abusive practices aren’t just antithetical to our values — they are a waste of taxpayer dollars and a distraction from serious problems facing people in our country.

From the beginning, creating DHS was a bad idea — and many of the people who helped make it happen had misgivings. When Democratic Senator Joe Lieberman proposed it, White House conservatives reportedly balked because it would mean a vast new federal bureaucracy. But President Bush reportedly decided it was “politically expedient” to sign the bill. So Congress and the White House essentially wrote a blank check –one of many that spawned a post-9/11 national security state that threatened to put the country on a permanent war-time footing — and wrongly treated the “homeland” as if it was under continuous, existential threat.

Into the new agency went components of immigration, intelligence-gathering and disaster management; DHS also swallowed the Coast Guard and the Secret Service. “The process for deciding which existing agencies would be moved to DHS, and which ones would stay in other departments, was haphazard at best,” wrote journalist Dara Lind. A former high-level DHS official likened it to a “shotgun marriage” among agencies “some of whom still don’t recognize the department as a department.” The result was poor management and accountability, even as the agency’s budget and staffing continued to balloon.

The sprawling agency was intended to be united around a mandate to “protect the American homeland” — a framing that begs the question, protect from whom? The answer became clear over the last two decades: Activists and peaceful protestors, immigrants with deep community and family ties, people seeking refuge in this country, non-citizens encountered on the high seas, anyone going through the airport. In truth: Potentially anyone.

This overbroad and elastic mandate was always a danger to civil liberties. Back in 2002, we warned that DHS would reach into every nook and cranny of our lives and liberty. We called the initial blueprints for the agency constitutionally bankrupt.

Border Patrol agents in green uniforms with wooden batons stand in a line as protesters rallied outside the Hatfield Federal Courthouse in Portland, Oregon on the night of July 29, 2020.

Sipa USA via AP

Border Patrol agents with wooden batons at the ready, stand by the Hatfield Federal Courthouse in Portland, Oregon as demonstrators protest against federal police presence.

And in many ways, our fears have been realized. “DHS’s overbroad mandate and unchecked powers have turned it into a tinderbox, now ignited by a president willing to trample on the constitutional limits of presidential powers,” ACLU Executive Director Anthony Romero wrote in August 2020. In July, the Trump administration had sent DHS personnel to racial justice protests across the country — as we collectively reckoned with the killing of George Floyd and our nation’s history of police brutality and racism.

Many of us remember the startling news reports from that summer: DHS agents beat demonstrators, grabbed individuals and forced them into unmarked vans, and unlawfully arrested dozens.

“If there is one thing we have learned from the authoritarianism on display in Portland, it’s that we have to remove the loaded weapon that sits on the proverbial coffee table in the Oval Office,” our Romero warned. We called for the dismantling of the department into its component parts and for a reduction of its budget to “allow for more effective oversight, accountability and public transparency” and ensure “the spun-off agencies will have clearer missions and more limited functions.”

For many observers, DHS attacks on protestors were the tip of the iceberg — and not far below the water’s surface was the recent horror of DHS separating parents from their children at the border (some of those children are still missing); the cruelty of DHS claiming legal authority to deny soap, toothbrushes, and sleep to children in its care; and the blatant xenophobia and racism of the Muslim and African travel bans.

The Biden administration has shifted away from the Trump administration’s use of DHS to police protests and abandoned several abusive programs. But in too many ways, DHS remains on course to continue imperiling civil liberties. As the Biden administration turns from the midterm elections to its agenda for the next two years, it should prioritize meaningful reforms that do not require congressional action, including:

Limiting immigration enforcement operations in U.S. communities:

The creation of DHS brought components of the Immigration and Naturalization Service into the fold of a national security-driven agency, explicitly linking immigration enforcement with countering terrorism. Subsequently, funding for immigration enforcement soared — driven by a misplaced security mandate, rather than documented need. Driven by this new excess funding, ICE developed the capacity to reach into communities across the nation — in large part by tapping state and local law enforcement agencies to assist in deportations.

As a result, millions of people across the nation live in heightened fear that an encounter with local police could lead to their deportation or the deportation of loved ones — and the separation of their families.

DHS should limit Immigration Customs and Enforcement’s (ICE) ability to tap state and local law enforcement agencies to assist in deportations, a practice that leads to racial profiling and harassment of immigrant communities, by ending the 287(g) program. It can start with the 54 law enforcement agencies with egregious civil rights records that we identified last spring.

Ending ICE’s for-profit immigration detention:

As DHS grew, detention of immigrants exploded — from an average of 19,000 people detained on a given day in 2001 to 57,000 people at its peak during the Trump administration. It’s been a boon to private prison giants CoreCivic and GEO Group, which received a combined $4.2 billion in revenue in 2022. Their contracts with ICE have enabled them to project growth to their investors despite President Biden’s 2021 executive order phasing out private prison contracts with the Justice Department.

Mass immigrant detention is unjust and unnecessary. Most individuals in ICE detention are locked up pending adjudication of their civil immigration cases, which means they have not been ordered deported and in fact very well may have the legal right to remain in the United States. Many languish in detention for months and years for no reason, only to win their cases. In detention, people suffer medical neglect, sexual assault, dangerously unsanitary conditions, beatings, and retaliation when they protest.

President Biden should build on his 2021 executive order on private prison contracts by ending for-profit immigrant detention, releasing detained people, and supporting community-based alternatives that enable immigrants to navigate the immigration system and fairly make their case for protection from deportation.

Hold CBP accountable:

CBP has been at the heart of some of the most troubling abuses of recent years, from family separation to holding families and children in outdoor cages to keeping unaccompanied children in inhumane conditions. CBP officers almost never face consequences for their actions.

Addressing impunity within the agency must start with DHS taking steps to bolster the role and authority of the CBP Office of Professional Responsibility and DHS Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties. DHS should require both entities to publicly report the outcomes of their investigations and recommendations — a reform members of Congress have proposed. The agency should also ensure all internal policies are made public and available for public scrutiny and congressional oversight. DHS should update use of force and vehicle pursuit policies to align them with professional best practices, better protect people from deadly encounters, and improve accountability.

Issuing meaningful and comprehensive anti-discrimination policies:

Right now, DHS’s patchwork of anti-discrimination policies actually permit discrimination. DHS has the chance to explicitly prohibit biased profiling based on actual or perceived race, ethnicity, religion, national origin and nationality, sexual orientation, disability and gender (including gender identity and expression), without any exceptions.

Congress also needs to act:

Despite reaching a tipping point of public concern, DHS remains mostly intact. DHS still oversees more than 62,000 federal law enforcement officers, by far the largest of any single federal agency. In many respects, the agency is too big to succeed. Its sprawling nature and entrenched systems, practices, and culture make meaningful oversight increasingly difficult. Just two components, ICE and CBP, received 86 percent more in federal funding than the Federal Bureau of Investigation; Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives; and Drug Enforcement Agency combined last year.

Yet DHS keeps expanding. “They keep making the case for more money from Congress by continually saying that they’re failing at their mission,” the former head of the Immigration and Naturalization Service Doris Meissner said in 2020. “And Congress keeps pouring more and more money in.”

Using its oversight and appropriations authorities, Congress should use this moment to assess and reform DHS holistically — examining its chronic waste and fraud, the profiteering by private prison companies and other DHS contractors, the negative influence of DHS on state and local law enforcement agencies and grantees, problems at the DHS Office of Inspector General and other internal watchdogs, and susceptibility to politicization and weaponization against domestic dissent.

Twenty years later, it’s past time to seriously reconsider DHS. Its abusive practices aren’t just antithetical to our values — they are a waste of taxpayer dollars and a distraction from serious problems facing people in our country.

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Published November 23, 2022 at 06:36PM
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ACLU: Election Denialism Lost in Key Midterm Races, but the Fight is Far From Over

Election Denialism Lost in Key Midterm Races, but the Fight is Far From Over

In the days and weeks after the 2020 presidential election, outright lies peddled on the national stage about the validity and security of state-administered elections proliferated. Politicians and political commentators spread and amplified falsehood after falsehood, baselessly alleging that the election was stolen through widespread fraud simply because their candidate of choice lost. Despite the fact that these allegations were proven false time and time again, and rejected by scores of state and federal courts, growing segments of the population became adherents to this “Big Lie.” This culminated in the devastating and unprecedented January 6 attacks on our Capitol that attempted to prevent a duly-elected president from assuming office.

One of the lasting threats galvanized by the “Big Lie” is election denialism — baselessly casting doubt on or refusing to accept the outcome of free, fair, and secure elections. In the face of ample evidence of the legitimacy of the 2020 election outcome, election deniers continue to try to undermine faith in our electoral process and democracy through baseless allegations of election fraud for personal and political gain. Alarmingly, many extreme election deniers secured candidacies for key state and federal positions that would give them direct control or influence over election administration and policy.

Americans Voted to Protect Democracy

It became clear as we approached the 2022 midterm elections that democracy itself — in addition to so many of our civil liberties — was at stake and on the ballot. Nearly 200 candidates on the ballot outright denied the 2020 presidential results through rhetoric or actions, and many more cast doubts on the 2020 election results. This included U.S. Senate candidates in Arizona and Nevada; U.S. House candidates in almost every state; gubernatorial candidates in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Arizona; and secretary of state candidates in Arizona, Michigan, and Nevada, just to name a few.

Now, with most of the results of the midterm elections in, there is no doubt that the American people took firm stances against election denialism and voted to protect our democracy in the most vital races.

Election deniers that vied to be the next secretary of state — a position that involves directly overseeing state and local elections — lost their races in key battleground states, including in Arizona, Minnesota, and Nevada. The ACLU and our state affiliates made a substantial investment in educating voters about the vital role of secretaries of state and where candidates stood on protecting voting rights and democracy.

Two of the most fervent and vocal election deniers running for governor lost their races in Arizona and Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is especially important because its governor appoints the secretary of state.

The Fights Ahead

Although this election season was an important step towards restoring democracy, the fight is far from over. While some of the most extreme election deniers failed in vital competitive races, many election deniers were elected, particularly to the U.S. House of Representatives and statehouses around the country. As we turn our focus toward the 2024 elections and beyond, Congress must enact bipartisan reforms to the Electoral Count Act before this Congress ends to ensure that electoral votes tallied by Congress accurately reflect each state’s popular vote for president. And we must continue to fight for federal voting rights legislation to address voter suppression efforts, fully restore the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and expand access to the ballot.

Moreover, as state legislative sessions approach, we expect to see continued state-level efforts to interfere with free and fair elections and restrict access to the ballot box. We have seen this before: In 2021 alone, over 400 bills with voter suppression provisions were introduced in states around the country. These suppression efforts included restricting vote by mail, limiting early voting, making it more difficult to register to vote, implementing stricter voter ID requirements, enacting problematic voter purge rules, making it harder for voters with disabilities to cast a ballot, and threatening election officials and voters with new or increased criminal penalties.

Just this year, at least seven states enacted 10 laws to make voting more difficult by creating new hurdles to voting by mail (including limiting drop boxes and permanent absentee voting) and making it more difficult to register to vote (including through documentary proof of citizen requirements and limiting Election Day registration). Additionally, at least 12 laws that jeopardize the nonpartisan nature of elections or aim to intimidate election officials and voters with new civil or criminal penalties were enacted in 2022.

While we continue to fight back against attacks on voting rights and the integrity of our elections, we are doubling down on our proactive efforts to increase access to the ballot box and safeguard our democracy. In states such as New Mexico, we will build on progress made this session to push for comprehensive voting rights legislation that restores the voting rights of people convicted of felonies and makes it easier for Indigenous voters to exercise their right to vote.

In Connecticut, following the success of a ballot measure that removed a constitutional restriction on early in-person voting, the legislature has an opportunity to enact strong, accessible early in-person voting legislation. In Michigan, we will build on this midterm’s electoral successes by working to expand Election Day registration locations, automatic voter registration opportunities, and youth voting rights. We will also advocate for the adoption of the National Popular Vote Compact in states that have yet to enact it to move us closer to our ideal of one person, one vote in presidential elections, and we will advocate for the few remaining states that do not utilize voting machines with paper trails for all elections to do so.

Voting rights and protecting our democracy has always been a top priority for the ACLU. Our ACLU affiliates and our millions of supporters stand ready to continue this fight. We invite you to join us in upholding our democracy and ensuring that each and every voice — and vote — counts.

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Published November 23, 2022 at 06:31PM
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Uganda: Technical Report - Public Investment Management Assessment

Uganda: Technical Report - Public Investment Management Assessment
Published November 23, 2022 at 08:00AM
Read more at imf.org

ACLU: Two Cups of Broth and Rotting Sandwiches: The Reality of Mealtime in Prisons and Jails

Two Cups of Broth and Rotting Sandwiches: The Reality of Mealtime in Prisons and Jails

As paralegals with the ACLU’s National Prison Project, we spend a lot of our time speaking to and corresponding with people in our nation’s prisons, jails, and detention centers, and their loved ones. Frequently, the top concern is food. As many Americans prepare for Thanksgiving feasts with loved ones, we can’t help but think of the people we correspond with who are deprived of fresh, nutritious meals year-round.

The food in prisons and jails across the United States is too often unpalatable (the infamous “nutraloaf,” for example) and innutritious. Diets in detention also often do not meet people’s health and religious needs. For example, in 2019, guards force fed a Hindu man in ICE detention who went on hunger strike to protest the failure to provide vegan meals to him and other Hindus in detention.

Sixty-two percent of formerly incarcerated respondents to a 2020 survey reported that they rarely or never had access to fresh vegetables while incarcerated. The typical prison diet, which is high in salt, sugar, and refined carbohydrates, contributes to the elevated rates of diabetes and heart disease among the incarcerated population. People who are incarcerated in the U.S. are also six times more likely to contract a foodborne illness than the general population.

It benefits us all to ensure that people return to their communities after incarceration in better physical and mental condition than when they went in. Meals that foster diabetes, hypertension, kidney disease, or other costly illnesses associated with poor nutrition result in expensive medical care for formerly incarcerated people, and a lost opportunity for them to return home in good health upon their release. Rebuilding a life after incarceration is difficult, and diminished health adds yet another barrier to reentry.

Here, we share just a few examples of what we’ve learned from our incarcerated clients about the food available in prisons, jails, and detention centers.

Jensen v. Shinn

We recently visited Lewis prison in Buckeye, Arizona to speak with our clients primarily about their health care as a part of a class action lawsuit against the state prison system. In speaking with many insulin-dependent people, we learned the food they are provided is not only deficient in nutrients but also actively harmful to the management of their diabetes. One man told us that he relies entirely on commissary foods and tries to make his own meals because the prison doesn’t offer any fresh fruit or vegetables — only refined carbohydrates, like cookies, saltine crackers, and bread.

While prison commissaries carry a broader range of foods than are available in the cafeteria for people to purchase, many incarcerated people don’t have family or friends who can fund their commissary accounts. Prison jobs — when they pay — pay an average of 13 to 52 cents per hour. This leaves little money for food, especially now with soaring inflation. And there is no special medical diet available for people with diabetes in Arizona’s state prisons.

Ahlman v. Barnes

In 2020, the ACLU filed a case on behalf of people detained in Orange County’s jails in response to unsafe conditions during the COVID-19 pandemic. Although the litigation primarily focused on issues such as testing and vaccine accessibility, many of our clients expressed that their top priority was the resumption of hot meals at the jail.

At the beginning of the pandemic, the jail stopped serving hot meals for “reasons of health and safety” according to the sheriff’s department. For more than two years, the jail served sack lunches, usually rotting bologna sandwiches, for each meal of the day. Even if the sandwiches were safe to consume, a diet of processed lunch meat can lead to serious health problems such as high blood pressure and an increased risk of heart disease and stroke. It is not only inhumane but an issue of public health. In line with our clients’ priorities, the ACLU successfully advocated for the resumption of hot meals to be included in the settlement agreement.

Duvall v. Hogan

Two small cups of broth.

A young man with a broken jaw was served two cups of broth for every meal at the Baltimore Jail.

After visiting our clients at the Baltimore jail in August and again in September 2022, it was clear that the quality and quantity of food provided is inadequate. We spent a lot of time in the infirmary, talking with the sickest people at the jail about the numerous failures and delays in their medical care. It was also in the infirmary where we received the most complaints about the food and not receiving enough of it — patients at the infirmary are inexplicably not allowed to order foods from the commissary at all. We spoke with a young man recovering from a broken jaw who had only been given two cups of broth for every meal. It took weeks for him to get Ensure, a nutritional shake, after he repeatedly told staff he was hungry.

In the general population, we spoke with a woman who was 17 weeks pregnant and experiencing hunger pains. She requested some snacks or extra portions. Many other incarcerated women told us they were also not getting enough food. One woman said jail staff told her they were getting small portions because they weren’t burning calories and getting activity outside of their cells.

The National Prison Project’s litigation against prisons, jails, and detention centers advocates for adequate health care and humane conditions, which includes nutrition. Aside from their constitutional right to the basic necessity of palatable and nutritious food, incarcerated people should be treated with dignity — and that includes a nutritious and healthful diet. The issue of food in prison is a moral, legal, and collective one. Sharing food and breaking bread is a fundamental part of our shared humanity — it’s why so many of our most important rituals happen around the dinner table. That humanity doesn’t go away because someone is incarcerated.

Below are more examples of the sparse, nutritionally scarce meals being served in prisons around the country:

Texas prison food, October 2022.
To prevent tracking by Twitter, we are showing a preview. See original tweet.
UPDATE on Alabama prisons: this was the entirety of what grown men were served yesterday at one of the prisons where they’re still on strike.

This was breakfast. And dinner. And there was no lunch.
To prevent tracking by Twitter, we are showing a preview. See original tweet.
And some of the food images that have been circulating and were included in a motion in the ongoing lawsuit.
To prevent tracking by Twitter, we are showing a preview. See original tweet.
We need you with us to keep fighting
Donate today

Published November 23, 2022 at 08:48PM
via ACLU https://ift.tt/Vxdpw8X

ACLU: Two Cups of Broth and Rotting Sandwiches: The Reality of Mealtime in Prisons and Jails

Two Cups of Broth and Rotting Sandwiches: The Reality of Mealtime in Prisons and Jails

As paralegals with the ACLU’s National Prison Project, we spend a lot of our time speaking to and corresponding with people in our nation’s prisons, jails, and detention centers, and their loved ones. Frequently, the top concern is food. As many Americans prepare for Thanksgiving feasts with loved ones, we can’t help but think of the people we correspond with who are deprived of fresh, nutritious meals year-round.

The food in prisons and jails across the United States is too often unpalatable (the infamous “nutraloaf,” for example) and innutritious. Diets in detention also often do not meet people’s health and religious needs. For example, in 2019, guards force fed a Hindu man in ICE detention who went on hunger strike to protest the failure to provide vegan meals to him and other Hindus in detention.

Sixty-two percent of formerly incarcerated respondents to a 2020 survey reported that they rarely or never had access to fresh vegetables while incarcerated. The typical prison diet, which is high in salt, sugar, and refined carbohydrates, contributes to the elevated rates of diabetes and heart disease among the incarcerated population. People who are incarcerated in the U.S. are also six times more likely to contract a foodborne illness than the general population.

It benefits us all to ensure that people return to their communities after incarceration in better physical and mental condition than when they went in. Meals that foster diabetes, hypertension, kidney disease, or other costly illnesses associated with poor nutrition result in expensive medical care for formerly incarcerated people, and a lost opportunity for them to return home in good health upon their release. Rebuilding a life after incarceration is difficult, and diminished health adds yet another barrier to reentry.

Here, we share just a few examples of what we’ve learned from our incarcerated clients about the food available in prisons, jails, and detention centers.

Jensen v. Shinn

We recently visited Lewis prison in Buckeye, Arizona to speak with our clients primarily about their health care as a part of a class action lawsuit against the state prison system. In speaking with many insulin-dependent people, we learned the food they are provided is not only deficient in nutrients but also actively harmful to the management of their diabetes. One man told us that he relies entirely on commissary foods and tries to make his own meals because the prison doesn’t offer any fresh fruit or vegetables — only refined carbohydrates, like cookies, saltine crackers, and bread.

While prison commissaries carry a broader range of foods than are available in the cafeteria for people to purchase, many incarcerated people don’t have family or friends who can fund their commissary accounts. Prison jobs — when they pay — pay an average of 13 to 52 cents per hour. This leaves little money for food, especially now with soaring inflation. And there is no special medical diet available for people with diabetes in Arizona’s state prisons.

Ahlman v. Barnes

In 2020, the ACLU filed a case on behalf of people detained in Orange County’s jails in response to unsafe conditions during the COVID-19 pandemic. Although the litigation primarily focused on issues such as testing and vaccine accessibility, many of our clients expressed that their top priority was the resumption of hot meals at the jail.

At the beginning of the pandemic, the jail stopped serving hot meals for “reasons of health and safety” according to the sheriff’s department. For more than two years, the jail served sack lunches, usually rotting bologna sandwiches, for each meal of the day. Even if the sandwiches were safe to consume, a diet of processed lunch meat can lead to serious health problems such as high blood pressure and an increased risk of heart disease and stroke. It is not only inhumane but an issue of public health. In line with our clients’ priorities, the ACLU successfully advocated for the resumption of hot meals to be included in the settlement agreement.

Duvall v. Hogan

Two small cups of broth.

A young man with a broken jaw was served two cups of broth for every meal at the Baltimore Jail.

After visiting our clients at the Baltimore jail in August and again in September 2022, it was clear that the quality and quantity of food provided is inadequate. We spent a lot of time in the infirmary, talking with the sickest people at the jail about the numerous failures and delays in their medical care. It was also in the infirmary where we received the most complaints about the food and not receiving enough of it — patients at the infirmary are inexplicably not allowed to order foods from the commissary at all. We spoke with a young man recovering from a broken jaw who had only been given two cups of broth for every meal. It took weeks for him to get Ensure, a nutritional shake, after he repeatedly told staff he was hungry.

In the general population, we spoke with a woman who was 17 weeks pregnant and experiencing hunger pains. She requested some snacks or extra portions. Many other incarcerated women told us they were also not getting enough food. One woman said jail staff told her they were getting small portions because they weren’t burning calories and getting activity outside of their cells.

The National Prison Project’s litigation against prisons, jails, and detention centers advocates for adequate health care and humane conditions, which includes nutrition. Aside from their constitutional right to the basic necessity of palatable and nutritious food, incarcerated people should be treated with dignity — and that includes a nutritious and healthful diet. The issue of food in prison is a moral, legal, and collective one. Sharing food and breaking bread is a fundamental part of our shared humanity — it’s why so many of our most important rituals happen around the dinner table. That humanity doesn’t go away because someone is incarcerated.

Below are more examples of the sparse, nutritionally scarce meals being served in prisons around the country:

Texas prison food, October 2022.
To prevent tracking by Twitter, we are showing a preview. See original tweet.
UPDATE on Alabama prisons: this was the entirety of what grown men were served yesterday at one of the prisons where they’re still on strike.

This was breakfast. And dinner. And there was no lunch.
To prevent tracking by Twitter, we are showing a preview. See original tweet.
And some of the food images that have been circulating and were included in a motion in the ongoing lawsuit.
To prevent tracking by Twitter, we are showing a preview. See original tweet.
We need you with us to keep fighting
Donate today

Published November 23, 2022 at 03:18PM
via ACLU https://ift.tt/Gxl9mcy

Tuesday, 22 November 2022

ACLU: The Club Q Shooting Took Trans Lives and Destabilized a Community

The Club Q Shooting Took Trans Lives and Destabilized a Community

When you talk to transgender people who came of age before the internet, you’ll hear a common refrain: “I thought I was the only one.” The experience of growing up transgender is most often a very lonely one, every childhood memory and familial relationship shaded by the pain of lacking the vocabulary to even ask for help, much less seek it out. Transgender people often grow up with the sullen certainty that no one will ever understand us, a sense of social isolation that, combined with widespread poverty, homelessness, and harassment, can often prove deadly.

All of this makes safe places for transgender people to gather among ourselves of utmost importance to our own survival. Club Q, an LGBTQ nightclub in Colorado Springs where a gunman recently killed five people and injured dozens more, was one of these vital safe-havens. Survivors of the shooting have described it as a rare gathering place for the queer community of the famously conservative small city, and the lives of those lost reveal the immensity of what was taken from them.

Kelly, Daniel, and transgender people across the country are bridges across this enforced silence, helping one another navigate a world that was never built for us.

Kelly Loving was described by her sister as a very giving person, “always trying to help the next person out … she was just a caring person.” A friend of Kelly, also a transgender woman, said “When I first started to transition, I wasn’t confident at all. She reminded me that you are not doing the wrong thing by being trans, that it was OK to embrace it because you are a beautiful person. Without her giving me the confidence, I don’t know where I would be today.

Daniel Aston, a 28-year-old transgender man and bartender at Club Q, was similarly described as a keystone of hope for the entire community. “He had friends that would come by the carload just to come and see him bar tend or just to hang out and support,” said a coworker at the club. As Daniel wrote on social media before his death, every time “I have even the slightest thought of leaving Club Q, someone comes up and tells me ‘you’re the reason I love this bar.’”

A white sign with a black ribbon in the background and a rainbow heart with the words "Club Q" in the foreground along with a cardboard sign reading "LOVE over HATE" in large letters sit above bouquets of flowers on a corner near Club Q.

AP Photo/David Zalubowski

Daniel and Kelly were far from alone —– countless transgender people across the country serve as models of hope, strength, and joy for the people around them. It’s a particular note of tragedy that this shooting happened in the first minutes of Transgender Day of Remembrance, an annual commemoration of transgender people lost to violence—–each one of them with the potential to be the kind of pillar for others Daniel and Kelly were.

Across the country, this sense of community and support for transgender people is in peril. Even when not taking the form of violence or the threat of it, politicians are working overtime to further isolate and alienate transgender people from their communities and their families. Whether it’s banning books by or about us, censoring teachers and doctors from sharing the truth of who we are, or even threatening parents who support their own transgender youth, the end goal of these restrictions is denying transgender people the words to describe our experience, the means to express it safely, and the community and support we all deserve.

Violence isn’t often described as a form of censorship, but what are LGBTQ people attacked for if not the way we express ourselves? What is the impact of a shooting at Club Q on transgender people across the country if not instilling a sense of fear in our own ability to live our truth? Kelly, Daniel, and transgender people across the country are bridges across this enforced silence, helping one another navigate a world that was never built for us. While nothing can replace that immense loss, one thing we can do in response is help transgender people know none of us are alone and, in truth, we never were.

We need you with us to keep fighting
Donate today

Published November 23, 2022 at 02:58AM
via ACLU https://ift.tt/e0QrqzN

ACLU: The Club Q Shooting Took Trans Lives and Destabilized a Community

The Club Q Shooting Took Trans Lives and Destabilized a Community

When you talk to transgender people who came of age before the internet, you’ll hear a common refrain: “I thought I was the only one.” The experience of growing up transgender is most often a very lonely one, every childhood memory and familial relationship shaded by the pain of lacking the vocabulary to even ask for help, much less seek it out. Transgender people often grow up with the sullen certainty that no one will ever understand us, a sense of social isolation that, combined with widespread poverty, homelessness, and harassment, can often prove deadly.

All of this makes safe places for transgender people to gather among ourselves of utmost importance to our own survival. Club Q, an LGBTQ nightclub in Colorado Springs where a gunman recently killed five people and injured dozens more, was one of these vital safe-havens. Survivors of the shooting have described it as a rare gathering place for the queer community of the famously conservative small city, and the lives of those lost reveal the immensity of what was taken from them.

Kelly, Daniel, and transgender people across the country are bridges across this enforced silence, helping one another navigate a world that was never built for us.

Kelly Loving was described by her sister as a very giving person, “always trying to help the next person out … she was just a caring person.” A friend of Kelly, also a transgender woman, said “When I first started to transition, I wasn’t confident at all. She reminded me that you are not doing the wrong thing by being trans, that it was OK to embrace it because you are a beautiful person. Without her giving me the confidence, I don’t know where I would be today.

Daniel Aston, a 28-year-old transgender man and bartender at Club Q, was similarly described as a keystone of hope for the entire community. “He had friends that would come by the carload just to come and see him bar tend or just to hang out and support,” said a coworker at the club. As Daniel wrote on social media before his death, every time “I have even the slightest thought of leaving Club Q, someone comes up and tells me ‘you’re the reason I love this bar.’”

A white sign with a black ribbon in the background and a rainbow heart with the words "Club Q" in the foreground along with a cardboard sign reading "LOVE over HATE" in large letters sit above bouquets of flowers on a corner near Club Q.

AP Photo/David Zalubowski

Daniel and Kelly were far from alone —– countless transgender people across the country serve as models of hope, strength, and joy for the people around them. It’s a particular note of tragedy that this shooting happened in the first minutes of Transgender Day of Remembrance, an annual commemoration of transgender people lost to violence—–each one of them with the potential to be the kind of pillar for others Daniel and Kelly were.

Across the country, this sense of community and support for transgender people is in peril. Even when not taking the form of violence or the threat of it, politicians are working overtime to further isolate and alienate transgender people from their communities and their families. Whether it’s banning books by or about us, censoring teachers and doctors from sharing the truth of who we are, or even threatening parents who support their own transgender youth, the end goal of these restrictions is denying transgender people the words to describe our experience, the means to express it safely, and the community and support we all deserve.

Violence isn’t often described as a form of censorship, but what are LGBTQ people attacked for if not the way we express ourselves? What is the impact of a shooting at Club Q on transgender people across the country if not instilling a sense of fear in our own ability to live our truth? Kelly, Daniel, and transgender people across the country are bridges across this enforced silence, helping one another navigate a world that was never built for us. While nothing can replace that immense loss, one thing we can do in response is help transgender people know none of us are alone and, in truth, we never were.

We need you with us to keep fighting
Donate today

Published November 22, 2022 at 09:28PM
via ACLU https://ift.tt/ewGUSpb

Monday, 21 November 2022

St. Kitts and Nevis: 2018 Article IV Consultation-Press Release; Staff Report; and Statement by the Executive Director for St. Kitts and Nevis

St. Kitts and Nevis: 2018 Article IV Consultation-Press Release; Staff Report; and Statement by the Executive Director for St. Kitts and Nevis
Published November 21, 2022 at 08:00AM
Read more at imf.org

ACLU: “Keep Our Families Together”: A Law That Protects Native Families is at Risk

“Keep Our Families Together”: A Law That Protects Native Families is at Risk

The Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA) — which requires state courts to make active efforts to protect Native children and keep Native families together—is currently at risk of being gutted by the Supreme Court in Brackeen v. Haaland. Congress passed ICWA in 1978 to address the nationwide crisis of state child welfare agencies tearing Native children from their families and placing them in non-Native homes, in an attempt to force Native children to assimilate and adopt white cultural norms.

Being removed from their homes and families and disconnected from culture, tradition, and identity profoundly harms Native children and has lasting, lifelong impacts. We spoke to two Native people who shared their stories about the impacts of child removal, why ICWA is important, and why Native families have a right to stay together.


Marshal Galvan Jr., Little Shell Chippewa

A photo of Marshal Galvan Jr.

Marshal Galvan Jr.

Credit: Marshal Galvan Jr.

When I was a child, I remember going to powwows. I remember seeing Native people. I remember being happy in these spaces with my family, and in my eyes and in my sisters’ eyes, my parents could do no wrong. But for whatever reason, the child welfare system decided that my parents weren’t good parents, and they decided to take that right of parenthood away from them.

When my sisters and I were placed in the child welfare system, we were initially placed together, but we got split up and placed into different homes over the years. They said we were bad kids and no one would take all of us on because we were a handful to deal with. Looking back now, we were just kids who were traumatized. We were kids that just wanted to go back to the safety of our parents.

My first placement was in a foster home with a white family. I didn’t learn about Catholicism or Christianity until I entered foster care. As I went through the system, I started landing in different homes with different cultures and languages being spoken, in different cities, schools, and neighborhoods. Everything constantly changed, and it constantly reinforced an identity crisis in my life.

By the time I was a teenager, I was gravitating towards anything and everything that I felt was going to connect me to something — whether it was the gang, drugs, or alcohol. It gave me a false sense of pride, ego, and meaning to life. I was putting myself in risky situations so that I could feel a part of my community. In my young adult life, things started shifting for me. I started getting incarcerated. I turned 18 and became homeless immediately. My addiction took a turn for the worse. Suicidal ideation and hopelessness started setting in. All along, I was grappling with my identity and just really seeking to know my roots.

A photo of Marshal Galvan Jr. as a child.

Marshal Galvan Jr. as a child.

Credit: Marshal Galvan Jr.

In 1997, when my parents lost their rights, there was no support and there certainly wasn’t any communication between our tribe and our family or the courts. At the time, the social workers and courts weren’t making active efforts to help our family bridge those gaps. My family’s tribe, Little Shell, wasn’t federally recognized until 2019. Because of that lack of federal recognition, my family was glossed over and wasn’t protected under ICWA.

My tribe allowed me enrollment membership into the tribe on August 23, 2022, but I’ve never lived in Montana and I don’t know the practices of my tribe. I acknowledge that. But through my enrollment, I am learning and rediscovering things about my tribe, and it has given me the ability to share that with my family. I started to reconnect with my family, and my enrollment is helping 16 other family members reconnect with the tribe, including my dad who wants to relearn his roots. I think it’s a beautiful thing.

It’s been a journey to unlearn, decolonize myself, and decolonize my mind. It’s an ongoing process, and I still have to do a lot of healing. To this day, as a tribal person, I still am facing an identity crisis. But no one should ever feel like they’re not Native enough, or enough, period.

It’s been a journey to unlearn, decolonize myself, and decolonize my mind.

Now, my passion is helping people that have similar stories to mine. Currently, I’m a counselor and work with youth in the Berkeley area. I would like social workers that are working in the child welfare system to continue to educate themselves on their own biases, because we’re hurting families. We’re keeping kids away from their parents and families when they don’t need to be.

The Indian Child Welfare Act is important because it keeps people like myself connected to our cultural roots, our family lineage, and our birthright. Not only does it respect tribal sovereignty, it also gives Native kids an opportunity to choose whether or not they want to embark on a journey that’s a birthright. To have the opportunity to have community, to be able to have folks that I can look around at and say, these are my people. That’s the most important thing — family, community, and cultural roots.


Mondae Vanderwalker, Rosebud Sioux Tribe

Mondae Vanderwalker.

Mondae Vanderwalker

Credit: Mondae Vanderwalker

It took me three and a half years of jumping through hoops and dealing with wrongdoings from the Department of Social Services (DSS) and the court system to adopt my two nephews.

My oldest nephew was taken away from my brother when he was around 3 years old. He was put in the system, and I called the local DSS office and told them that I wanted to get custody and adopt my nephew. The DSS representative told me “No, we’re not going any further or moving forward with this case,” just because they heard some hearsay about me. But they never looked into the allegations. I asked DSS, “Well, how come you won’t do a background investigation or whatever you have to do so that I can get my nephew? He’s an important part of my life.” And they just kept saying, no, we’re done here.

I had no money to fight this, and didn’t know what to do. A few years later, my younger nephew was born, and he was also taken away from my brother when he was just a few months old. After he was taken, a woman from a different DSS office contacted me and asked, “Would you be interested in taking him?” and I said, “Yes,” in a heartbeat. I was waiting for that phone call for many years.

DSS had me and my husband go through a program to get a foster parent certificate to start the process of adopting our nephews. Once we were finalized for the adoption process, DSS finally let us go see my nephews at their foster family’s home. We had to drive from Sioux Falls two and a half hours away each weekend to go see them. But on our third visit, the foster family tried to keep us from visiting. I thought the agreement was that we were working on getting these children placed back with us, but the foster family kept trying to block our visits. DSS representatives warned me: “You’re going to have a battle on your hands — the foster family wants to adopt these children.”

I kept thinking, “I need to do something about this, because I’m going to lose my nephews.” I talked to someone I knew on our tribal council and then to our tribal president and told them what was going on. I told them I was afraid I was going to lose my nephews, because we were coming down to the wire, and the foster family got a lawyer to try to keep our nephews from us. They even tried to argue that my oldest nephew was not an enrolled tribal member, which would have made him ineligible for protection under ICWA. If that had happened, the foster family would have been able to adopt him right away. But thankfully, my brother did fill out tribal enrollment papers for my older nephew years ago — it turned out that DSS just had never turned them into the court.

Our tribal president ended up hiring a lawyer to help me fight for my nephews and we went to court. ICWA ended up saving us. If one of my nephews was not a Native American child, a non-Native person would have been able to adopt them without any question, and I would have lost them. But after a three and a half year battle, I was finally able to legally adopt my nephews under ICWA.

My two nephews are now 8 and 4 years old. Once we were reunited, I felt relieved, like a lot of pressure was taken off my shoulders. I was happy that the fight was finally over and that we could finally just live our lives. I want to help more people to understand ICWA and to tell them to not give up. If I didn’t talk to somebody and try to get help, they would have been gone. But I fought and fought and never gave up. It makes you think — how many more people, how many children who are sacred to Native American people, do you think we lost like that, in this system?

My nephews love me for what I’ve done because now they know a lot about powwows, everything to do with the tribe, and our ancestors. Before, they didn’t know any of that. They didn’t know what a powwow was. They didn’t know what fry bread was, or what Indian tacos were. But they do now. Now, they can have a better understanding of their culture and where they came from.

If ICWA was not put in place, I would have lost my nephews. The ICWA guidelines are important, but the state has to follow them. When my nephews were first placed in the system, my tribe was supposed to be involved from the get go, but they weren’t. Under ICWA, it was the responsibility of a DSS worker to call our family and tribe to let them know that these children were placed in a foster home with non-Native American families, but that didn’t happen. Our tribe needs to know that these children are in this system. And they should have known about it a long time ago.

If ICWA was not put in place, I would have lost my nephews.

When government workers don’t follow the ICWA guidelines, it hurts our people by allowing our children to be adopted out to other families and away from their tribe. ICWA is there to protect us, and DSS needs to do more to help these Native American children be placed back with their families.

ICWA helps us keep our children with their families like they should be. Our children need to stay with us, and we need to keep our families together.

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Published November 21, 2022 at 08:02PM
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