We're Not Ready

The Black Urbanist Weekly for October 31, 2022

Yes, please stop and assess the direction you’re going. Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash

This is The Black Urbanist Weekly, an email newsletter that highlights the Black Queer Feminist Urbanist thoughts and commentary of me, Kristen Jeffers, an internationally-known urban planner, fiber designer, and contributing editor. Think of this as an editorial page column, but directly in your email. This week, I’m still thinking about how capitalism is affecting our “return to normal” and how I’m just not that kind of normal.

So I already had plans to tackle how capitalism fails the Black body before recent news developments, but then again, this whole newsletter is about that and how it relates to our geography and coming together in physical spaces.

But, these past couple of weeks basically made me realize I’ve been right all along.

We ain’t ready to be outside. We ain’t doing right by everybody outside. And with this being fall going into winter in the northern hemisphere, might be time for those of us stateside to step back. And for those emerging back into the world to think about what’s really going on.

Now I’m not saying we gotta go all the way back to full lockdown. Personal protective equipment (masks of all levels, air cleaners/purifiers, face shields and goggles, and full body suits) and ventilated indoor and outdoor heated spaces of all kinds allow us to be out here with reason and sense. Especially those of us whose bodies already don’t like our polluted air, water, and broken social service systems.

However, I think I miss the lockdown portion of quarantine so much because, for the first time in my adult business life, I felt like I wasn’t missing out.

All the conferences beamed right into the bedroom. I could wake up and sleep at the pace of the sun. I could master crafts I’ve loved for years. Everyone was in the same boat, or at least similar, side-by-side boats it seemed.

In reality, the lockdown was sad and scary because we didn’t realize how much danger was at our door and we, meaning all races, ages, classes abilities, and wealth. Some relationships were rekindling and others were falling apart due to isolation. But it was making us slow down and really consider what was worth doing and many of us, at least based on what was posted online, were actually doing that!

However, once the first waves of infection passed and so many of us in positions of power, wealth, and access stopped dying and managed to not have side effects, it seemed like the hustle came back.

I’ve seen so many people, notably Black folks building business, harp on community, but insist that that community only happen face-to-face.

For every Black person calling on rest as resistance and liberation, another is saying liberation is only in our hustle.

Can we not forget that some of us can sleep and guzzle elderberry syrup and even wear our masks and our body will still do what it does?

Or I guess abundance and wellness are only available to the abled and the privileged.

I’m a dreamer and a creative and I hate the idea that I could be too sick to create because of something that fell out of the sky. And that doing it fast and risky is the only way to success.

It feels like the denials of my ancestors and my elders — you’re Black, so you can’t do that or be that.

It’s as if we have to earn our rights or liberation.

I’m here today to declare that liberation and rest are our birthrights. And no, that doesn’t mean one is forever gone be broke.

To declare and model what it looks like to make and do from a place of abundance. Last newsletter it was my personal abundance in limitation.

This newsletter it’s doing me and then connecting— with these technologies and techniques our ancestors and elders would dream of having, and owning myself as a success, internal and ancestral.

I like to think of myself, as a conduit and facilitator. I create projects, objects, and events. I may be the lead person managing the team or I may work on the object (say my crochet scarf pattern or any other crafty thing) in solitude. However, especially when the project is done in the community, I’m happy with sharing not just the labor, but the fruits of our labor, equitably.

Capitalism is not equitable. And yes, fares in cities that can tax billionaires to provide the funds for the services we punish others for not having enough to access, is capitalism. So is housing in the same situation? Yes, we need to compensate those that build housing, but we need to continue to be creative and work with a team of architects and construction experts that can provide us as a people with a variety and abundance of options without exploitation.

Oh and before you come at me that I’m not thinking about the kids: Open the windows and buy the fans for the schools and offer more tutoring and individualized education.

Also, you’re a doctor’s office, the PPE is for you first, especially since we are trusting you to usher us through the illnesses, ailments, and mobility device needs we expect from you.

You can get out here and hustle and push and pull. Do that for you. But don’t do it on someone’s back. Don’t do it at someone’s expense. Don’t do it for clout. Share the wealth, especially if it's a group project or event, or something that benefits a broader community.

In the meantime, now that we’re been in this return mode for a second, let’s take a step back. Are you doing what you’re doing because you want to or because of obligation?

Is it really working or do you think it’s working?

You’ll see me when you see me. At the right spots and at the right time and yes, I’m happy, because all I have to do is be.

By the Way

If you’re new here, I write out my grand thesis of the week above, then I share other articles/videos that were noteworthy for me this week in this section. Apologies in advance for things behind a paywall. Some things I subscribe to and others I grab just before the wall comes down on me. I will start marking these articles and describing them.

Another reason to get Black urbanism right is that Black/African urbanism will be the lead urbanism if population numbers do continue their trend in the nations of West Africa and their coastal cities. Also relevant at the moment, is how and why Judaism is practiced in West Africa.

I appreciate CityLab’s Linda Poon for highlighting what folks are and aren’t doing with indoor ventilation and what we should be listening for when a school, concert, or conference venue claims that they are cleaning the air, especially when they claim it’s “hospital-grade”.

And thank you Washington Post for shining a beacon on us “still Covid-ing”, but seriously, we aren’t weird because we are careful, then again, this is the Washington Post. I do want to lift up Elaine Weltheroth’s new WaPo column though, for often getting it right, especially when talking about when it works to walk away from a career.

Finally, this Post article about why Victorian-style homes are considered scary should go well with your candy and costume this year. Read it by candlelight.

Before You Go

Check out some special announcements from me.

I’ll be live on Patreon, LinkedIn and YouTube talking about everything I mentioned above and then some for my Open Studio/Office Hours from 11:45-12 noon eastern. Don’t worry if you can’t watch live, it will be archived publicly on all spaces.

My bookshelf over at Bookshop.org is very much alive and well, purchase your copies of books I talked about above, plus more that I’ve designated part of the Black Queer Feminist Urbanist canon, the general urbanism canon and other lists because you can never have too many books.

Finally, Learn how and what you can you book me for in 2022 and 2023.

If you want to support me for any reason, but don't need anything in return, you can donate to my capital campaign, or Venmo or Cash. App me.