A reflection from Women’s Center staff member Daniel Willey

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about how disaster response and the concept of a snow day have social justice implications. This week, I am continuing the trend by looking at the disaster in Flint, Michigan. Many news outlets are examining the crisis from a “so how do we fix it” standpoint, but I want to look at this crisis through the lens of “how did we get here.” What structural imbalances led us to this point? What does this crisis say about the bigger picture? Before we get there, though, let’s look at what happened:

(cnn.com)

In 2011, former acting mayor of Flint, Michigan Mike Brown was appointed by Michigan Governor Rick Snyder as the city’s Emergency Financial Manager. The city was $15 million in debt, and it was the EFM’s job to cut the budget as much as possible to remedy the situation. As a major cost saving measure, Flint voted to stop buying water from Detroit, which pulls water from Lake Huron, and connect to Karegnondi Water Authority as a cheaper, more direct way of getting water from Lake Huron. This plan, voted on in 2013, would not be completed until 2016 and the city switched to water from the Flint River in the interim. Tests done on Flint River back in 2011 showed that the water from the river was corrosive and would need to be treated with phosphates before it could be used as a water source. This information was sent to the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality in 2013 when the decision was made to switch. It was the MDEQ’s job to address the corrosiveness of the water, which would cost about $100 per day. As a cost saving measure, they didn’t.

Fast forward to April 2014. Flint switches its water source. Residents report that the water is brown, smells, and has a bad taste. It was gross, but officials insisted it was fine.

(flintwaterstudy.org)

That summer, E.coli and coliform bacteria were found in the water and residents were told to boil their water. Still gross, but officials still claimed the water was safe to drink. Residents continued to report nasty water which was now causing rashes and illness across the city. In January of 2015, Detroit offered to reconnect Flint to Detroit municipal water and wave the reconnection fee. City officials declined and again insisted the water was safe.

Meanwhile, the GM plant near Flint stopped using the water, citing issues with corrosion of metal parts. Since April 2014, this same corrosion had been eating away at the zinc coating on the inside of lead pipes, allowing lead to leach into Flint’s water supply.

You probably know the rest of the story. There was cover-up after cover-up.

Thousands upon thousands of cases of water to be distributed to Flint residents (ibtimes.com)

Kids showing signs of lead poisoning were tested. The water was tested. The city switched back to Detroit’s municipal water, but it was too late. The lead was exposed and continues to leach into the water today. Flint is currently in a state of emergency, with all of its residents using bottled water to do everything from cooking to bathing to brushing teeth.

There’s a lot of stuff going on here. This timeline (and this one) and these few articles can help you get up-to-date on the facts and the finger-pointing. But, I want to focus on the residents of Flint and ask the question, How on earth did this happen?

Flint, like many parts of Michigan, was hit hard by the collapse of the automotive industry in 2009. Today, 40% of its residents are below the poverty line and 57% are black. Most are blue collar workers and the median value of owner-occupied homes is just $41,700. So, one has to wonder: Would this have happened in a white suburb? Would it have taken over a year for officials to respond? Historically, the answer is no.

It’s important to understand that the Flint disaster isn’t just the result of negligence. City officials made a conscious decision to pump corrosive, notoriously contaminated water into the homes of its residents. They also made a conscious decision to not properly treat the water. Once things got really bad, city officials did everything they could to cover it up. Flint residents are calling for answers and solutions, all while trying to survive on one case of bottled water per day.

Protesters in Detroit, Michigan during the height of the water shutoffs (thedailybeast.com)

Access to clean water is a human right. We literally cannot live without it. But, time and again poor people and people of color are denied this human right in the US. Just this last summer, water was shut off for 3,000 households in Detroit because of past-due accounts. Thousands more are at risk for losing their water– in fact, 40% of Detroit, 120,000 accounts and about 300,000 people, have outstanding water bills at an average of $755 per household. Detroit Water Brigade is one of many non-profits working to stop the shutoffs and implement a water affordability program.

Water shutoffs in Detroit and contaminated water in Flint have two important things in common: high rates of poverty and high proportions of black residents. It is no coincidence that both of these human rights violations occurred in areas of high rates of poverty and majority black population. When you consistently demonize, criminalize, and disinvest in poor or black people and black communities, a clear message is sent both to civilian constituents and city officials: these people aren’t worth our time and money and they don’t care anyway. That’s what Flint city and Michigan state officials conveyed to Flint residents and, eventually, the entire country.

Lee Ann Walters shows MotherJones.com the water from her tap

The thing is, the people of Flint do care. Lee Ann Walters is the mother of four who blew the whistle on the whole issue. It was because of her and a report from the EPA that was leaked to her that the national media began to pay attention to the issue. She organized residents for town hall meetings with city officials on numerous occasions, only to be met with dismissals and the same story about how the water was safe. In this viral video, she explains another issue with the water: she’s still being billed for it. If you can’t pay for your water, they shut it off. If you have no water, Child Protective Services get called in to remove your children from an “unfit” and “unsanitary” home. After 90 days of not paying the water bill, they cap your sewer which can lead to having your house condemned. There’s already a stigma on poor families and single parent households, especially single mothers. We call them unfit, or suggest they don’t care about their children. They are assumed to be less educated and less concerned about health issues, and now the stigma has played into how this whole thing went down: not only have classist and sexist assumptions allowed officials to dismiss local concerns for months, but they can also cause families to be uprooted or become homeless. This is what makes this issue not only a human rights issue but a social justice and feminist issue. 

Protesters in Flint, Michigan (rollingstone.com)

The residents of Flint deserve justice. Sure, officials need to be held accountable for their actions but what Flint needs right now is water. Flint needs investment. Flint needs new pipes and more jobs and better access to healthcare and government assistance programs. Flint needs schools and teachers equipped to meet the needs of the hundreds of children who have been affected by lead poisoning. Activist Michael Moore has written an open letter expressing his anger and calling for accountability and revolution. Whether or not you agree with him, it’s clear that this is a social justice issue. And, if we claim intersectional feminism as a value and practice, this is an issue feminists need to rally around as well.  

Understanding how structures of poverty, racism, and sexism set this problem up (and inform what happens next) can help activists, policy makers, and leaders keep this kind of thing from ever happening again. It can also help us answer these questions: Why didn’t it become an issue sooner? Who matters — and who doesn’t? Where else in this country are people in crisis without a voice? What will it take to get us to notice? Will we be too late?

If you want to do more to help flint, check out the Flint Water Response Team website or this article listing different areas in need of donations. The Flint water crisis didn’t become widely known and publicized until fairly recently and the EPA is still not happy with how the recovery is going. Spreading the word, sending water, and putting pressure on officials is crucial in the short term, but Flint has a long, long expensive road ahead.

    A post by Women’s Center staff member Daniel Willey

Earlier this semester, as I’m sure you all remember, we got hit (bombarded, pelted, buried, whatever) by winter storm Jonas. BWI airport recorded almost 30 inches of snow and the wind blew the icy flakes sideways into drifts best navigated with a harness and rope or a tunneling machine. 

The sea of snow outside my house in Halethorpe on Sunday

Baltimore shut down the Light Rail, MARC, and buses for almost a week — only the fourth MTA shutdown in the last 40 years. My roommates and I braved the grocery store on Thursday night before the storm hit and it was a nightmare. I thought my mom was just being a mom when she texted to warn me that all the bread was gone. Some impatient man in a business suit chased me away from my parking spot at the Giant by honking his horn repeatedly so he could swoop in and take it. People were getting nasty.

Now, I’m used to this kind of snow.

Our dog Raven wondering how she’ll ever get out to pee

Having grown up in the mountains in Western Maryland, I’ve seen my fair share of snow and ice storms. But I’ve never experienced it in an urban setting and I’ve definitely never been old enough to be the responsible snow survivor before. It got me really thinking about what it means to have a snow day and how the local and state government reactions to something like Jonas has a lot more to do with social issues and inequality than you might think.

The MTA shutdown is what got me thinking first. If you’ve ever taken a Baltimore City bus you know our transportation system is flaky at best. But you probably also know how many people rely on the MTA every day for school and work and errands and everything else. When it shut down, all those people suddenly lost that essential piece to their everyday goings-on. And sure, the first day or so when nobody could leave their homes anyway may not have mattered. But the people who do the hourly and low-wage jobs that are essential to the running of any city had to get to work on Sunday. And Monday. And Tuesday. And Wednesday.

The MARC and Light Rail didn’t start back up until Wednesday (on a limited schedule) and even though there were buses on Monday, there weren’t very many and it was a total free-for-all in terms of scheduling for several days. While we UMBC students and many people in office or management or government jobs (positions with salaries and benefits and paid leave) had half a week of snow days, the snow plow and bus drivers, food service workers, maintenance and road workers, hotel staff, emergency responders, retail workers, grocery store clerks, pharmacists, and nurses (and the many many others who rely on pay from every hour they can get their hands on) made the trek to work with basically no transit system.

Well, she got out but she is not happy about it

And then I thought about my horrible grocery store experience. I thought about the brave souls running the checkout aisles and managing the rapidly depleting inventory. I thought about all the families without cars or living in food deserts who would struggle to get provisions for the coming storm. What about disabled people or older adults who couldn’t hustle to the store and back in time? I thought about the low income families who are unable to spend large amounts of money at once to stockpile supplies or those who had run out of food stamps because it was the end of the month. What about the people whose heat was shut off? Or those living in abandoned houses or their cars or in the tents on MLK Blvd?

When I picked my boyfriend up from work early on Friday (because there was no bus– surprise!) he said, “The people who are running around and freaking out right now are going to be fine.” And he was right. We had the money to stock up on food. We could afford to live in quality, well-maintained housing with good heat and a solid roof. They had plowed out our whole neighborhood by Sunday afternoon. A friend of mine who lives on Guilford Ave a few blocks outside of Station North said the road was plowed a few blocks down from where it connected to North Ave, but then it just ended. There was no dead end, no cars blocking the street, nothing to indicate it would make more sense to stop there than to continue down into the poorer or residential areas down the street. The lines of where plowing happened first and last show a very clear indication of what areas of the city are important and why.

Taking a snow day is a luxury. Getting a snow day means that if you don’t have a salaried position with paid leave, you have to lose pay for lost hours. Sometimes it means making a choice between braving a dangerous commute and earning your next meal — or even just keeping your job (and if there’s no public transportation, the low-income portion of the 30% of Baltimore residents without cars can’t get to work). A snow day is made possible by people who can’t take a snow day.

Getting a snow day can be fun for some students, but many low-income students rely on free school meals. For some students, this is their only steady source of nutrition.

On the Tuesday after the storm, only female Senate members and their female staff showed up to work on Capitol Hill. Proceedings had been postponed until Wednesday, but someone had to be there to make an official motion to postpone the Senate in order for that to happen. Those people were women. Sure, some may have been truly snowed in but, like I said, a snow day is made possible by people who didn’t get one.

The way a city handles a snowstorm is a social justice issue because socio-economic status is a major factor in the health, safety, and well-being of low-income and at-risk populations. So, think about it. What (and who) made your snow day possible?

When the unrest swelled again in Baltimore on Monday, April 27th, 2015, UMBC was in the midst of studying for final exams and preparing for the end of the semester. For many, the Uprising seemed well removed from our campus, as a perceived sense of distance from the city belies the significance of the ‘B’ in UMBC. Aside from periodically checking the local news updates or receiving a swell of calls and messages from concerned relatives on Facebook, studying and campus night life went on as usual. For some students, the reality of a Baltimore in chaos mere miles away didn’t sink in until they saw fires burning from the 7th floor of Albin O. Kuhn Library.

But for many others, those fires were burning our city—our home.

As members of the Critical Social Justice team unpacked the events that transpired in Baltimore, we struggled to find balance in the divide between the university and Baltimore. The divide, for example, between staying at home in the city to engage in a movement for Black lives or leaving the city for UMBC to create healing spaces, meet with students in need, and challenge those who had yet to understand the complexities and vast differences between riots and uprisings. The reality of an “us” and a “them” felt very real as we navigated back and forth on campus during those next few days. While on campus, it was easy to think through theory, strategize, and simply talk about Baltimore in the abstract; however, at night with the sounds of helicopters and sirens invading through our windows, we desperately needed our other UMBC community members to think beyond Hilltop Circle.

Baltimore City and the pervasive violence and injustice there can no longer be talked about in the abstract. Whether or not Baltimore is your home, Critical Social Justice calls each of us in this privileged community of higher education to think and engage critically about Baltimore. We cannot only think about the city when we see a fire from the library or when the Ravens win the Super Bowl. Much like Critical Social Justice is a year-long campaign, our critical thinking, action, and care for Baltimore must happen all 365 days a year.

This year’s Critical Social Justice initiative aims to create space and learning opportunities to consider the ways we can cultivate deep and lasting commitments to Baltimore City that are meaningful to us as individuals and as part of the UMBC community. By focusing on Baltimore, we aim to engage with local social justice issues and activism while framing our understanding within the context of larger national movements and ongoing struggles against systemic racism and injustice.

Our campus and our city are not as separate as they may seem at our quiet university—nor are they as readily connected as our proximity and names might lead people to believe. Critical Social Justice: Baltimore 365 knits the UMBC and Baltimore communities together in the hopes of growing into a better UMBC through a better Baltimore.

Critical Social Justice: Baltimore 365 will be held on October 19th through 23rd, 2015. Follow the CSJ blog, Facebook, and Twitter for updates on scheduled events and other news. For more information about the Critical Social Justice initiative, or if you’re organizing a related event that week that might be included on the CSJ calendar, please email womens.center@umbc.edu.

Critical Social Justice week is fast approaching (this February from the 16th to the 20th) and the theme this year is “Creating Brave Spaces”. To unpack and explore this idea, we had the Critical Social Justice Student Alliance tell us what the theme meant to them and how we can use it in our social justice work. Emily Eaglin, incoming president of this new student organization, created this helpful video that documents our conversation and expands upon what brave spaces can be. Check it out below!

We were inspired by Brian Arao and Kristi Clemens’ article, “From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces,” and for some highly recommended further reading, you can access it here.

If you’re interested in learning more about the Critical Social Justice campaign, check out our WordPress, like our Facebook page, and/or follow us on Twitter!