Former members of the Durham Police Department excited about the return of their newly appointed chief of police

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Former officers with the Durham Police Department say the hiring of Patrice Andrews is what is needed to improve morale within the troubled department.

One of the former officers interviewed by Rev-elution noted a message on the Police Department’s Facebook page, posted on October 21.

“Are you aware that Interstate 85 persistently remains in the top 10 crash locations in Durham? Perhaps earlier this week you saw DPD’s Traffic and Crash Team (TACT) and Motor Unit, along with Ofc. J. Harris of Uniform Patrol as they conducted speed enforcement along I-85 North and South between E. Club Boulevard and Cole Mill Road. The highest recorded speed was 97 mph in a 60-mph zone! Officers made 15 vehicle stops.”

A simple message, like so many others on the page. It was the second comment posted minutes later that caught the attention of members of the police department.

“Proud of the work that you all are doing to keep our roads safe! See you soon!”  Patrice Andrews, the newly appointed chief of police, is making a statement. I see you. I affirm you. I look forward to working with you.

It’s that level of familiarity that resonates with many members of the police department. Many say they know and trust the woman who is coming back home after a brief stay not far away.

Andrews, who served five years as the Town of Morrisville Police Chief, replaces C. J. Davis who left Durham to head the Memphis, TN police department. Andrews started her career with the Durham Police Department as a patrol officer in 1997. She’s remembered for advancing up the ranks to become district commander and a captain supervising the Special Victims, Homicide, Domestic Violence, and Fraud units.

Rev-elution interviewed officers who worked with Andrews before she left Durham in 2016. The officers say her leadership style with the rank and file is a better match than Davis, who came to Durham from Atlanta, GA.

“Patrice is more willing to listen to the opinions of others,” a retired officer said on the condition of anonymity. “She takes what others think before making a decision.”

The retired officer noted tension within the police department caused by understaffing and an unwillingness to consider alternatives to maximize current staffing needs.

“Patrice is more of a community person,” another former officer said when questioned about Andrews. “She’s the type of leader who will be out in the community with the people. She will build relationships with everybody.”

A retired officer compared Andrews to former Durham Police Chief Steve Chalmers, who served as chief of police from 2003-2007. After serving on the force for more than 32 years, Chalmers continued efforts to impact the root causes of crime with Men of Vision, a nonprofit he started while serving as police chief.

“She’s like Chalmers. They both care for the community and know the city,” the former officer said. “She’s got that same drive to build programs that make a difference.”

Rev-elution spoke with residents who desired a more transparent process. They imagined a series of community forums with finalist like when Davis was under consideration to become Durham’s police chief. There were four finalists following a national search. Durham City Manager Wanda Page made the decision with the help of nine diverse members of Durham’s community.

In the end, deep connections to Durham made the difference.

"I am confident that Chief Andrews is the right leader for Durham, where she spent most of her law enforcement career," City Manager Wanda Page said in a statement. "I am happy to welcome her back to Durham, where she also has deep family roots and developed lasting relationships in the community while working and living here."

Andrews faces numerous challenges as Durham Chief of Police. She enters a political climate with calls to defund the police. Homicides are rising and increasing disparities complicate strategies to strike the roots of crime. The current police force is witnessing retirements and the exodus of officers to other higher paying, safer municipalities.

According to past members of the police department, there is reason to be excited about Andrews’ return to Durham.

Prayer vigil conjures hope in a new reality

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THE NAMES OF 38 PEOPLE WERE PRINTED IN BOLD letters on separate pieces of white paper. They were carried to a table and placed underneath rocks to protect them from the wind. The church across from the parking lot summoned thoughts of a holy procession, with an altar, prayers, and homilies reminding us of the lives of the dead.

Ben Haas, director of The Religious Coalition of Nonviolent Durham, welcomed the more than one hundred attendees to a service of grieving. The 29^th Annual Vigil Against Violence took place at the Elizabeth Street United Methodist Church.  Because of Covid-19, last years vigil was conducted virtually. The naming of the dead reminded the people present of the worst part of Durham. The senseless deaths of men and women.

It was a mixed crowd of the varied hues of Durham, mingled with a group of politicians who have made reducing homicides part of their platforms. Javiera Cabellero, who suspended her campaign for mayor, stood beside Nida Allam, Wendy Jacobs, and Mayor Steve Schewel. On the opposite side of the parking lot, Elaine O’Neal stood near DeDreana Freeman. I was positioned close to both in an area packed with grieving family members.

The distance exposed more than paces between bodies. The detachment summoned a reminder of both political and societal dissimilarities adding to the pain.

I thought about and prayed for Allam as I looked for names on the Durham Memorial Quilt. The quilt was started by Sidney Brodie in 1994 after the senseless death of two- year-old Shaquana Atwater in Few Gardens. I cried after closing my eyes and calling the names of Allam’s friends – Deah Shaddy Barakat, Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, and Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha – all murdered by a white man with a history of threatening Black and Brown neighbors in Chapel Hill, NC.

I was reminded of how political distance often lies. Allam belonged next to me as we grieved the deaths of the 38 people with names on white sheets of paper. My desire to frame others as adversary was met with a common pain that transcends labels we create to protect distance. I found five other names to add to the blues of Tia Carraway’s memory. I remembered standing with her family as we identified a body battered by bullets and rigamortis.

Thirty-eight names on white pieces of paper.

The comments reverberated like an echo – the same message kept coming back. All of us need to work against this common enemy. This is our problem. It could happen to anyone. It could happen to you. The same message kept coming back. The long line of names on the quilt forced an even more painful memory. It’s not the first time I’ve heard this eulogy.

The blue sky and gentle wind conceived the backdrop for confusion. Beautiful days aren’t made for memories like this. I thought of gloomy skies and torrid winds. I thought of the bitterness of death stirring uncontrollable moans of Black mamas in a church packed with a troubled community. I imagined the sound of a Black gospel choir singing “Precious Lord, take my hand.”

I saw blue skies, felt a gentle wind, and heard the mingling of white and Black voices troubled by incessant death. I felt the lure of distancing preventing the breakthrough of new possibilities. My imagination captured the explosive bang of bullets. My prayers sought the refuge of a community unwilling to surrender to making this a normal memory.

Thirty-eight names on white paper.

Thirty-eight people killed in 2020. They have mothers and fathers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some have children too young to remember the day their parent died.

It is easy to miss the story when pain owns the moment. The story isn’t a political agenda. It’s not the race of the victims, or the vicious cycle leading to their deaths.

It’s the making of a holy moment, with names on white paper escorted to an altar underneath the blue sky with a gentle wind. Its collective tears mingled like incense in a bowl lit in the presence of our sacred truths. Its naming a certainty deeper than death – our hope and faith in a world not known for this type of misery.

Thirty-eight names on white paper.

My prayer, no more paper.

 

 

How to destroy a Black politician: The LeVon Barnes decision

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“carl, if you are in town this week, I would love to have a sit down with you and learn about the history of Durham politics,” the request was sent on September 5, 2017, by LeVon Barnes at 9:34 a.m. It was the beginning of an ongoing conversation involving politics in Durham.

We met the following day at Coco Cinnamon. It was a pleasant day. He found me outside as I was sipping a glass of yerba mate. We discussed Dr. Wyatt Tee Walker, the Black Baptist pastor who marched with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Barnes called Walker his mentor, a point that made it easier for me to understand his passion for politics. My previous conversations with Dr. Walker were a journey into a period of American history when Black men and women did more than stand on the sideline while others fought for their rights.

Dr. Walker was dying. The sadness in the air connected the two of us beyond the galling drama of Durham politics.

The details matter when you’re discussing the political death of a Black man.

Barnes placed his name in the hat as a candidate for the Ward 2 city council seat. Two other Black men, Mark-Anthony Middleton and John Rooks, were also running. Rooks received the endorsement of People’s Alliance’s (PA) Political Action Committee. Rooks was under attack for comments on his questionnaire perceived as homophobic.

Rooks responded with a rebuttal that blamed a staff volunteer for filling out the questionnaire. Barnes attributed the rebuttal as the work of Tom Miller, a PA board member.

PA’s General Body reversed the PAC’s recommendation after Charlie Reece made an impassioned appeal for the group to endorse Mark-Anthony Middleton. It was a contentious meeting with supporters from McDougald Terrance vying for Rooks with members of Congregations, Associations and Neighborhoods (CAN) supporting Middleton. Barnes was left on the outside in a battle between two other Black men lobbying for the support of the powerful, mostly white PAC.

“Off the bat, you need to have a huge, volunteer base. Organizations matter. The best candidate sometimes doesn’t win,” Barnes stated in a message sent to me on October 11, 2017. “Are we really progressive, or do we just talk progressive. A lot of the voting base is not informed, it doesn’t matter what you say, as long as the People Alliance backs you.

It was a precursor of things to come. Barnes ran without the support of the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People (DCABP). He met with Omar Beasley, who served as the chair at the time, and Keith Bishop, a member of DCABP’s executive committee. They advised Barnes not to run. They felt more time was needed to build relationships.

I gave the same advice. Barnes was sprinting in a race that required the endurance of a long-distance runner. He was determined not to give up.

“Meaning I would love to be someone who is remembered for being a culture changer here,” he wrote on October 24, 2017. “Whose leadership transcends all people, because it was pure, and it was about people. I guess like a Wyatt Tee Walker or Dr. King.”

The Decision

Fast forward to “The Decision”.

That’s the title Barnes gave to episode #26 on his "Unapologetic Podcast". “The Decision” was to endorse Charlie Reece, Jillian Johnson and Javiera Cabellero for city council rather than Joshua Gunn, his fraternity brother. The trio branded themselves as Bull City Together and hoped their experience as incumbents on the city council would be enough to defeat Gunn, a popular Durham native.

Barnes filed as a candidate in a crowded field for the Durham Board of County Commissioners. The word circulating was Barnes endorsed the Bull City Together slate in exchange for their promised endorsement.

“Man, it’s getting harder to defend you,” I stated in a message sent to Barnes on December 30, 2019. “Tell me it all isn’t true. A fundraiser for you being planned by Charlie, Jillian, and Javier. The promise of a PA endorsement.”

“Anything to take me out. I’m sorry, but my level of disgust is real. Somebody is going to believe it,” Barnes responded. “Plus, you know when something like that is said it runs deeper than just an election.”

On Thursday, October 21, Barnes bared his soul on his podcast. He took every question and criticism I launched to get at the truth. We talked about his tarnished reputation. We discussed his being called a sellout by some people in the Black community. He also shared the burden of it all – the loss of a girlfriend and contemplating suicide.

The exchange was part confessional coupled with the offering of redemption. A big mistake was made. Barnes talked about the mistakes.

He agreed to work on Reece’s campaign due to their relationship. Barnes, a physical education teacher and basketball coach, received funding from Reece and his wife for Young Male Achievers, his nonprofit organization.

Barnes was serving as Co-Chair of the DCABP Education Committee with Dr. Ronda Taylor Bullock when he agreed to work with Reece. He failed to divulge his involvement with members of the DCABP. Working on a political campaign was a violation of the organization’s bylaws.

Barnes says he felt justified after the DCABP endorsed Reece for city council. The moment of his critical decision came when he was told Reece would campaign with Cabellero and Johnson. He continued to work on the campaign after learning of Gunn’s candidacy.

He told members of the Bull City Together team he wouldn’t engage in supporting negative statements made about his fraternity brother. The promise was challenged after a heated exchange at the August 21, 2019, PA endorsement meeting. Rodrigo Dorfman was concerned that an endorsement of Gunn would leave Cabellero without the support she needed to continue as the first Latina to serve on the council.

Barnes says he heard the exchange between Dorfman and Nia Wilson, co-director of SpiritHouse, and Michelle Cotton Laws, who challenged David Price for U.S. Congress. During a meeting a few days later called to address concerns related to the exchange, Barnes says he fought for some form of censure due to the attack on two Black women.

He continued to serve on the Bull City Together campaign. There was an opportunity to bow out. He was being compensated for his work. He honored his promise to Reece.

What followed was a rapid regression that placed him on the outside of Durham’s Black politically engaged community. He made a decision that hampered his relationships with members of Alpha Phi Alpha, the fraternity he shares with Gunn and a pack of local Black pastors. His role with the DCABP was over.

He lost his bid to join the Durham Board of County Commissioners. He fought for Reece, his friend who convinced him to work on his campaign. Reece didn’t fight on behalf of Barnes when he needed endorsements. Cabellero and Johnson left him to contend on his own.

The price he paid was isolation and rejection.

Barnes says he doesn’t feel used. It sounds like he was played like keys on a piano. The music is a broken record of another Black man sacrificed for promoting the wishes of others not willing to repay the favor.

Is it worth it?

Barnes played a game like the one played by Pierce Freelon. The puzzle involving how Freelon won a seat on the city council has pieces that fit a narrative of gains made after walking away from the Black community. Freelon may point to policies aimed at abolishing the police. Black leaders point to crafty maneuvering after failing to endorse Farad Ali for Mayor and Gunn, another homegrown Black man who, like Freelon, is a hip-hop recording artist.

Barnes says he considered suicide after his friends walked away – his girlfriend, members of the DCABP, and the Bull City Together team. He took a bullet for their political cause. When he suffered from the wound, they weren’t there to offer CPR.

I saw Barnes walking, alone, at the Black Farmers Market on a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was months after he lost the election and word of his perceived treason flooded conversations in the Black community. He was wearing an Alpha Phi Alpha jacket – alone. In that moment, I thought of Gunn, who, at the time, was a partner of Provident1898, the co-working space in the North Carolina Mutual building. The farmer’s market was held in the NC Mutual parking lot. It was hard not to make the connection.

There was a sadness on his face. It was the look of dejection that comes with attempts to overcome a bad decision. I thought of stopping. I didn’t. Maybe, it was too soon. Maybe, it was too late.

What’s next?

I believe in redemption stories. Barnes isn’t 40, yet. There’s time to overcome the misfortune of a bad decision. I’m reminded we all make mistakes. It’s much harder when mistakes are made in public view. There was a moment in the podcast. It was a constant thread of moments, like a great chain of consciousness beckoning a pain deeper than things imagined finding peace. I felt the call of ancestors commissioning the burning of white sage and a bawl of deep unto deep.

I felt the presence of Dr. Wyatt Tee Walker, like a descending angel, reminding me of a greater calling. The work of wounded spirits and souls harmed by bad decisions caught me in the middle of Barnes’ confession. I’m reminded that my work with Black men and women rebuffs the urge to throw the gifts of life away. There was merit in Barnes’ confession beyond the work of a political office. I heard every word as a symbol of grace. Each word. Like moans in search of redemption.

The lesson

It pains me that Barnes was treated like disposable goods. His yearning to make a difference was used to manipulate him into serving members of the Bull City Together team. There complicity may not be intentional, but the outcome is irrevocable – like the last rights before the last breath.

These are lessons on how to destroy a Black politician. You cover him with promises. You surround him with perceived validation. You seduce him with promises of a better way on the other side of political visions. You suck the life from those dreams after a perpetual season of disappointment - no endorsements to match the passion.

It looks like gold on the other side of those hills. It’s fools’ gold. Don’t go there, because it gets lonely after the promise fades into the truth of being manipulated into carrying the heavy load of their tainted victory.

I welcomed Barnes back home.

Join me in the reunion.

 

 

COMMENTARY: What being a progressive means to Black people

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What does it mean when a political candidate touts being progressive?

Is it a statement donating a certain type of white wokeness? There are varied levels to being woke, a point made by the rapid succession of Karens pointing fingers while screaming at Black men and women while advocating to end global warming.

In Durham, NC, being woke is a prerequisite if you want to succeed at anything beyond purchasing a home in a newly gentrified neighborhood.

Woke and progressive go hand in hand like Bonnie needs Clyde and peanut butter isn’t the same without jelly. All the above fit. Saying you’re progressive in Durham is a redundant statement that only brings attention to the bean counters who use labels to discredit the competition.

I have a secret. Black people only claim being progressive if they’re attempting to convince certain white people they’re different, wait for it, than “those” Black people.

Gasp.

Be mindful of any Black politician who uses being progressive as a point of separation. It’s not being used to appeal to Black voters. It’s used to affirm solidarity with a certain brand of white wokeness.

This is a truth with historical footing. Naming and controlling the agenda of Black people has been on the table since Black people migrated North in search of new opportunities. They absconded the witness of lynch mobs for the promise of places like Harlem, where being Black meant walking with your head held high and not moving to the other side of the street when white folks approach.

They were met with a mixed bag of clarifications related to what it means to embrace a new version of Black identity. There was the respectability politics of W.E.B. Du Bois imparted on the editorial page of The Crisis, the magazine of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). There was the socialism and union organizing of A. Philip Randolph, pitched on the pages of The Messenger. Randolph was part of “The New Crowd Negro” movement that challenged Du Bois and Booker T. Washington’s embrace of capitalism. Finally, they met Marcus Garvey and the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA).

While Garvey built an army of supporters prepared to return to Africa, Washington and Randolph helped the government force Garvey’s deportation. In other words, same song, different dance. Black people, historically, have endured suppression from both Black and white people.

Well intentioned white people have intruded into Black folks’ business since the 1840’s when white abolitionist focused on slavery, while Black people coupled anti-slavery activities with demands for racial equality and justice. Being progressive white woke meant something entirely different when viewed from the lens of people walking and talking while being Black all day, every day, for the rest of their lives.

Progressive white wokeness has historically come with high levels of paternalism. They mean well, but the agendas of Black people are often compromised to soothe goals of objectives rooted in an analysis of what “those” poor Black people need. For Du Bois, his agenda was outlined by a philosophy defining success by the ability to attune to white normality. For Randolph, at times, it meant making race secondary to union involvement. For Garvey, it meant making the Black agenda more important than anything white people had to say.

One more time. None of this is new. That part about varied opinions regarding policies impacting the Black community. That other part about white people attempting to define and control what should matter with Black people. If that’s true, progressive is a way of redefining the terms of Black resistance.

The Black people I know have other ways to describe left leaning activism. They talk about forming a Black agenda, Black economic development, Black pride, and Black nationalism. They discuss the vision and purpose of the ancestors, Black culture, and solidarity. Progressive doesn’t fit when the focus is on strengthening a community of kinfolk who hang out on the corner and play spades at family gatherings.

Maybe that’s why I cringe when I hear a Black person press their interpretation of a progressive agenda. It’s hard not thinking it’s a statement meant for the white people who are listening. Another reminder that words matter when they’re often used to define and manipulate work among Black people.

I don’t talk about being a progressive. I’m a Black nationalist with a desire to hear and learn from my brothers and sisters of the African diaspora.

Yeah, that sounds different.

 

 

Activism: More than a photo opp

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Commentary: carl w. kenney ii

The world I knew completely changed on the day I met Alexandra Valladares.

A life limited by eyes wide shut took a blink to discover a world with unmeasured dimension. I knew the multiple shades of blackness and the beats and rhythms inspiring me to dance. I knew the oasis of Black love and the tender strokes of my Black mama’s love whenever sadness shifted to depression. I understood the power of collective memories and the call of the ancestors beckoning me to keep moving when troubles got in my way.

Still, something was missing.

I felt a divide created by distance, language, culture, and complicated histories. I felt the challenge of telling untold stories with a firm understanding of the life and witness of Brown people. I had to admit what I didn’t know. It’s difficult telling stories without discernment of lessons limited to articles and Facebook postings.

We met at a local coffeehouse. I began by telling Alexandra I wanted to write a story for Durham Magazine about the experiences of Latina’s living in Durham. Five minutes later, I told her I wanted to write a series of articles. Ten minutes later, I told her she needed to write about her experience. Finally, 30 minutes later, I begged her to run for office.

I fought back tears as she talked about jumping the fence to enter America after escaping the hardship of Honduras. She shared her experience of living in McDougald Terrace, graduating from Hillside High School and North Carolina Central University. She disclosed being a single parent after getting married young, enduring a divorce, and doing her best to be a mother in a system packed with limitations.

We discussed the burden of advocacy - the brutal pain related to witnessing parents struggle to communicate feelings when language barriers get in the way.

Again, I begged her to run for office.

It was complicated.

After fighting to secure a spot on the Durham City Council for Javiera Cabellero, I witnessed the disappointment when Cabellero failed to endorse Alexandra. She didn’t complain. It wasn’t mentioned, but, I wondered, why not. I watched as advocates of Latina inclusion on the city council failed to acknowledge the importance of the same on the board of education. I noted the extreme contradiction, prayed, and prepared for a better day.

The answer to that prayer was to build and promote a Black and Brown coalition. The Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People endorsed Alexandra over Steve Unruhe, a popular and competent member of the school board. Alexandra narrowly received the endorsement of People’s Alliance. Some of the members of People’s Alliance were infuriated and responded with a vicious counterattack.

I met new brothers and sisters. I listened to Ivan Almonte tell the story and reasons for his activism. I developed a bond with Sandro A Mendoza, another brother from another mother, who teaches me new lessons every time I shake his hand. My respect for Aidil Ortiz grew more as I watched her interact with my Brown brothers and sisters with a grace brewed after years of listening to each other talk about life in the Bull City.

My celebration of Alexandra’s placement on the Durham Public School’s Board of Education is because it matters. Not just because she’s Latina, but because she represents what it means to build an authentic Black and Bown coalition. She exemplifies activism with the people.

My work with Alexandra, Aidil, Sandro and Ivan imparts lessons in listening. They help me think critically about the massive assumptions people make regarding inclusion. Genuine inclusion happens with the people. It’s not a photo opp. It doesn’t seek the affirmation of people not impacted by the labor. It’s not engineered by out-of-town activism with ripples of contributions from people who never stepped foot in the community. It’s not the ideological vision of state and national directives formed in isolation from the people who live both night and day with blockades limiting pure inclusion.

My Brown brothers and sisters teach me lessons about the purity of love and community. This is the work they do because the survival of their neighbors depends on their success. They do it when no one is watching. They do it with limited resources and the lack of consistent affirmation.

I think of them when I witness the influx of endorsements and campaign material from organizations with limited Durham connections. I listen to them as they remind me of the work done with and for the people. I pray when I consider the privilege of support afforded the people who walk and talk with the advantage of Latino class privilege.

Not my words and thoughts. It’s the message taught when eyes, once wide shut, blinks twice to discover a world of unmeasurable dimension.

I see the world in Black and Brown. Shades of white are welcome.

 

Is this a message from Durham voters: Part 2

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Data collected by University of Oklahoma Associate Professor Andrea Benjamin tells a story regarding a potential radical shift in Durham politics. For more than a decade, winning municipal elections is the result of valuable endorsements from People’s Alliance, The Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People, The Friends of Durham, and the Indy Week - a local newspaper.

The influence of local political action committees has expanded to include the Durham Association of Educators, Durham4All, and other emerging political players. The power of the PACs has taken on a life of its own, making Benjamin’s thesis – the influence of endorsements in deciding elections – the most critical work of a local campaign team.

It’s only a primary, but could Durham be amid a radical shift?

Referendum of Political Action Committees

Many residents express lingering concerns regarding candidate endorsements. The legitimacy of People Alliance’s endorsement of Javier Cabellero for Mayor, Marion Teniade Johnson for City Council Ward 1, and A.J. Williams for City Council for Ward 3 is perceived to be the outcome of a takeover. Concerns include the influence of voters who don’t reside in Durham, and an agenda packed with the platforms of Durham4All, Durham Beyond Policing, Southern Vision Alliance, and Durham Association of Educators.

The dominance of People’s Alliance over the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People shifted when IndyWeek broke with a longstanding tradition by not endorsing the same slate as People’s Alliance. The IndyWeek endorsement singles, for many, a divide within the ranks of Durham’s white progressive community.

Balanced Approach to Law Enforcement

When Cabellero, Jillian Johnson and Charlie Reece united to campaign as the Bull City Together Team, it came with a platform that includes massive police reform. Many voters’ express concerns that a disagreement regarding funding to support additional police impacted Police Chief C.J Davis’s decision to accept the job as head of the Memphis, TN police department.

Efforts to defund Durham’s police department is met with resistance during an uptick in gun violence. Cabellero, Johnson and Reece are viewed as a team determined to add Marion T. Johnson and A.J. Williams to abolish the police, a goal communicated by members of Durham Beyond Policing.

Meanwhile, O’Neal, a respected former district and superior court judge, is trusted by many to have the skills and experience to lead balanced conversations regarding criminal justice reform.

Checks, Balances and Conflicts of Interest

Many Durham voters express concerns regarding a city council without disagreement.

DeDreana Freeman, Ward 1 incumbent, is criticized for raising questions related to accountability in her votes regarding affordable housing. Freeman’s concerns are consistent with many of her constituents.

“DeDreana Freeman was targeted by Jillian [Johnson] precisely for her independence and for telling the truth,” Sherri Zann Rosenthal, a former deputy city attorney, posted recently on Facebook. Rosenthall was assigned to handle issues within the Housing and Community Development Department. “DeDreana voted against the so-called Expanding Housing Choices ordinance and was the only member of the Council to do so. That ordinance was wrapped in the cloak of anti-racism and affordable housing but actually did nothing for either of those goals.”

As part of her work as a longtime senior city attorney, Rosenthall legally structured the city’s affordable housing and loan programs. Rosenthall says the ordinance approved by the city council opened historic neighborhoods to developers.

“Jillian had a vested interest in the passage of this ordinance, as she planned to build a rental duplex,” Rosenthal continued. “The duplex plan was already submitted to the Historic Preservation Commission (HPC) prior to the Council and Commission vote to pass the HPC ordinance. She didn’t disclose her personal interest, and she didn’t recuse herself.”

Rosenthal says Steve Schewel is part of a real estate LLC with family members, and Vernetta Alston formed a real estate LLC while still a member of the Durham City Council. Alston is currently shown in the North Carolina Secretary of State database as being associated with three real estate develop entities. Alston currently serves as a member of the North Carolina House of Representatives

The Rev-elution reporting on the Participatory Budgeting process lifted concerns related to Jillian Johnson’s influence in the process. Johnson championed Participatory Budgeting and served as the city council representative on the steering committee. A.J. Williams, a candidate for city council, serves as the Director of Incubation and Ideation Labs for Southern Vision Alliance where Johnson is the Co-Chair of the Board of Directors and the former Director of Operations and Chief Financial Officer. Williams is a member of the steering committee.

Marion T. Johnson, a candidate for city council, serves as the Chair of the Participatory Budgeting Steering Committee after working as a member of Johnson’s campaign team. Susan E. Goodman, the mother of Paul Bendich, Johnson’s partner, also served on the steering committee. The Participatory Budgeting Committee awarded Southern Vision Alliance, the nonprofit organization where Johnson serves as co-chair, $50,000, the maximum allowed during the Phase 2, 2021 budget cycle.

Commitment to Racial Equity

Many residents point to O’Neal’s work as the Co-Chair of Durham’s Racial Equity Task Force and Freeman’s work as Co-Chair of Episcopalians United Against Racism. Both groups offer convincing leadership before and after Durham County Commissioners failed to extend the contract of former County Manager Wendell Davis.

During a period of increased racial hostility, some members of the Durham City Council publicly supported Durham County Commissioner Heidi Carter after Davis wrote a letter addressing comments that he perceived to be racist. When Cabellero supported the decision not to extend Davis’ contract, based on an assessment that he failed to support public education, many Black residents viewed her comments to be an intrusion into county government affairs.

Notwithstanding Cabellero’s perspective regarding Davis’ failure to support education funding, many local voters are seeking a leadership style that advances the recommendations of the Durham Racial Equity Task Force report.

Are Durham Voters Making a Statement?

Benjamin’s statement in part 1 holds true. There isn’t enough evidence to formulate a conclusion. Things could shift over the next thirty days, when votes are cast in the General Election on November 2.

What we do know is close to 70% of Durham voters supported O’Neal, Freeman, and Middleton in the primary. Will that translate in the General Election? Will Durham voters select A.J. Williams, who is supported by Johnson and Cabellero, or Leonardo Williams, who is campaigning with Freeman and Middleton.

One thing is clear. This is a clash of opposing ideas like Durham has never seen during my time in the city.

 

What does the landslide Municipal Election tell us about Durham politics?: Part 1

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WHAT DOES THE OCTOBER 5 LANDSLIDE VICTORY for Elaine O’Neal for Mayor and DeDreana Freeman for City Council Ward 1 tell us about the current state of Durham politics?

Andrea Benjamin, associate professor at the University of Oklahoma, has spent lots of time collecting data on elections in Durham, NC. She’s currently working on a project about coalitions, electoral representation, and policy representation in local politics based on data she obtained in Durham. Benjamin conducted research in Durham when she was a member of the political science faculty at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

Her first book, Racial Coalition Building in Local Elections: Elite Cues and Cross-Ethic Voting, shows that Blacks and Latinos rely on endorsements from co-ethnic leaders when casting their votes.

Benjamin says although it is only a primary, the landslide victories of Elaine O’Neal for Mayor and DeDreanna Freeman for City Council Ward 1 is making a powerful statement.

“Without having exit poll data from the election yesterday, I am hesitant to speculate on why people voted the way they did,” Benjamin said. ‘What I can say is that in both 2015 and 2017, I did collect exit poll data during the General Elections and in both elections, voters were very aware of which candidate received which endorsements and that awareness was positively associated with vote choice.”

Bill Bell was overwhelmingly re-elected in 2015. At the city council level, Steve Schewel was endorsed by People’s Alliance, The Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People, The Friends of Durham, and Indy Week. Jillian Johnson and Charlie Reece were endorsed by People’s Alliance and Indy Week.

In the general election, Schewel was re-elected, and Johnson and Reece were elected to the council for the first time.

·      Steve Schewel, won re-election and also received the largest number of votes (15,011 or 28.07%). 

·      Jillian Johnson, won a seat on the council and received the second most votes in the election (12,497 votes or 23.37%). 

·      Charlie Reece, won a seat on the council with the third most votes (9,680 votes or 18.10%). 

·      Mike Shiflett, did not win a seat on the council.  He received 7,376 votes (13.79%). 

·      Ricky Hart did not win a seat on the council.  He received 5,844 votes (10.93%). 

·      Robert Stephens did not win a seat on the council.  He received 2,925 votes (5.47%). 

In the 2017 Ward elections, there was a clear slate from the People’s Alliance:  Steve Schewel for Mayor, DeDreana Freeman (W1), John Rooks, Jr. (W2) and Vernetta Alston (W3).  While the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People and the Friends of Durham backed the same slate: Farad Ali for Mayor, Cora Cole-McFadden (W1), Middleton (W2), and Shelia Huggins (W3).  The Indy Week backed Schewel for Mayor, Freeman (W1), Middleton (W2) and Alston (W3).  These were the four candidates elected to office in 2017.

 ·      Farad Ali did not win the election (14,326 votes or 40.13%). 

·      Steve Schewel won (21,252 or 59.53%). 

·      Cora Cole-McFadden did not win the election (15,716 votes or 45.40%). 

·      DeDreanna Freeman won the election (18,847 votes or 54.45%). 

·      Mark-Anthony Middleton won the election (19,136 votes or 57.04%). 

·      John Rooks, Jr., did not win the election (14,334 votes or 42.73 %). 

·      Vernetta Alston, won the election (21,204 votes or 62.46%). 

·      Shelia Huggins did not win the election (12,643 votes or 37.25%). 

The vote for the top six candidates in the 2019 Primary were:

 Jillian Johnson               10,461 - 21.33%

Charlie Reece                 9,675    - 19.73%

Javiera Caballero            9,313    - 18.99%

Joshua Gunn                  6,675    - 13.61%

Jacqueline Wagstaff       3,709    - 7.56%

Daniel Meier                   2,954    - 6.02%

 

The general election results were:

 

Jillian Johnson                19,857 - 20.65% (Re-elected)

Charlie Reece                 19,532 - 20.31% (Re-elected)

Javiera Caballero            19,023 - 19.78% (Re-elected

Joshua Gunn                  18,631 - 19.38%

Daniel Meier                    9,426    - 9.80%

Jacqueline Wagstaff        9,354  - 9.73%

 

In 2019, the People’s Alliance and the Indy Week endorsed Johnson, Reece, and Caballero.  The Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black people and the Friends of Durham endorsed Gunn.  The Friends of Durham also endorsed Meier.   

"Take note that Joshua Gunn missed it by 392 votes," Bejamin said.  "That is a very close margin."

The 2021 Primary results showed a large margin for Elaine O’Neal, Freeman, and Middleton, who were endorsed by the Durham Committee on the Affairs of Black People, the Friends of Durham, and the Indy Week.  Middleton was also endorsed by the People’s Alliance. 

Mayor

Elaine O'Neal                           13,586 - 67.96%

Javiera Caballero                     4,925   - 24.63%

Ward 1

DeDreana Freeman                 13,468 -  69.61%

Marion T. Johnson                    5,189    - 26.82%

Ward 2

Mark-Anthony Middleton           16,255 - 85.91%

Sylvester Williams                     1,718   - 9.08%

“I believe endorsements can be a useful tool to help voters make informed decisions.  Again, without exit poll data, it’s hard to say if people were ‘using’ the endorsements or not as they cast their ballots,” Benjamin said.  “It could also be that voters are very tuned into this election cycle, and they preferred these candidates because of their issue positions on things like policing and the future of Durham.”

Bejamin says the results are surprising in the margin between the candidates, which has been closer in recent elections.

“I think the General Election will see increased turnout as each candidate works to mobilize their supporters,” Benjamin said.  “Perhaps some people didn’t vote in the primary because they thought their vote didn’t matter, but it does.  I expect things to get intense over the next month.”

 

 

Prelude to another election and the continuing buildup of Black Trauma

Rev-elution offers independent, local, Black journalism and reflections on faith in public space. Support Rev-elution by contributing at: Cash app, $CMizzou, or Venmo, $Carl-Kenney-1

COMMENTARY: Black trauma is a mother, shut yo mouth.

It brews in the belly and feeds on a pile of historical woes. It binds to the angst of the ancestors and wallows in the misery of memories that refuse to go away. Trauma is the price Black people pay for believing in the American Dream.

I’ve witnessed an eruption of Black trauma in public view. Black people are accustomed to the uncontrollable display of horns locked to make it all go away. The sadness is not that it happens. The gloom is that it happens far to often, and that it happens because Black folks carry their rage deep in the soul.

I’m troubled that it often happens in public view. It means something different when white people witness what happens in Black spaces. People are quick to shame Black people when there is no context to explain the what and why behind all that pain. Having to explain what happened magnifies the trauma.

Black trauma hinders patience and the ability to process beyond hurt feelings. It takes years of training and therapy to learn to communicate without feelings controlling what is said. I know it when I see it, but it’s hard helping others to understand the pain behind the madness.

It's what makes this journalism work so difficult. I’m often compelled to translate the significance of actions beyond the obvious story. It’s not just the facts, ma’am. The who, what, when, where, and why of the story comes with bunches of unresolved issues packed in an exploding Black body.

The gifts of white privilege is not having to explain the underlying madness. In reporting and writing, I often notice the mindset of a person “bout to lose their mind, up in here, up in here.” Saying that is another cultural affirmation inserting feelings of folks who know the lingo of the Prophet DMX.

There are layers to distress packed in by decades of frustration. The disappointment of a job denied. The heartache of love vanished. The agony of being misunderstood due to not being fully seen.

It’s what makes an election more than a political option. The power of privilege is winning doesn’t change much. Privilege grants losers a chance to tray again, while the pain of Black trauma adds new tiers to a load of misery. Disappointment bankrupts a person weighed heavy by Black trauma. It increases the rate of lapping among people already miles behind.

Catching up is a dream. Being forgotten and dismissed are the regiment of people accustomed to losing. Faith in something better, something different, is overshadowed by internal voices screaming “none of it matters.”

Waiting is a wish. Maybe. Could it be different? This time. Can we?

Another layer to unmeasured depression. Another episode of the continuing drama related to what white people can’t see. Another day of potentially unfulfilled hope in a sea of cosmic disproportion.

As my fingers cling to the keys on my laptop computer, a wave of disappointed Black faces gawp at me in preparation of the next observation of dreams deferred. The risk to swollen misery seeps between my fingertips and the computer keys.

Dear God, please offer breaths of freedom within this patent cycle of Black misery.

Black trauma. It’s hard to explain it. Some people can’t see it.

It’s a mother, shut yo mouth.