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ambeauty · 8 months

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Thoughts on Sydney, Marcus, and Black Love

Sydney and Marcus form an immediate connection at the beef. He protects her and they create a mentor/mentee dynamic because Sydney has more professional training than him but sees his skillset and value as patisserie. There’s familiarity between them and they stick beside each other when Carmy loses it and they both quit. Sydney easily welcomes him into her home and cooks for him, which is something she does for people she loves. She loves taking care of people in that way.

Sydney advocates for his training and advancement in the work place. She asks about his family. Their banter and conversation is natural. They speak and share the same language. Sydney is at ease with him in a way she is not with most people. But she’s still holding back. She is never vulnerable with him. Not because she doesn’t want to be but because that’s not the type of relationship they have.

She purposefully keeps their relationship superficial. He provides comfort and familiarity in their otherwise chaotic and competitive world. She is his superior but also his peer. There’s a professional veneer that she keeps up with this relationship. And as much as there is a severe lack of two Black people shown in healthy romantic relationships in mainstream tv, this is not that. Their relationship lacks any of the romantic tension that is needed for a friends to lovers arc.

It is not detrimental to the progress of black love on tv for their relationship to remain what it is because it’s necessary for both of their characters to have that camaraderie in such a competitive and toxic career. It is a form of black love. Of course Marcus wants to test the boundaries of his relationship with Sydney because who wouldn’t? Her reaction demonstrates exactly how she feels about him and their relationship. She says herself that it would be weird for them to go on a date. She doesn’t see him in a romantic way. But she still loves and cares about him and their friendship. My suspicions is that she will be his main support system when his mom inevitably passes. How important is it that Sydney receives respect, protection, and adoration from a black man and it is not contingent on her romantic interest in him! This is the beautiful male/female platonic friendship dynamic in the show that everyone is looking for.

And I’m not going to go into details about the difference of Sydney’s relationship with Carmy because that’s been done a million times over. The main idea is that the undefinable nature of their relationships leaves open the opportunity for romance. It’s the way a lot of their scenes are shot and scored and acted. It’s the way they move around each other and the push and pull of their personalities that leave open that question of what are they going to do with all of that underlying tension? Are they Shaq and Kobe? Or are they Jay Z and Beyoncé? (These are terrible examples but you get what I’m saying).

And as terrible as it is to admit, I don’t think race is a factor when it comes to the way the personal relationship of Sydney and Carmy is building. Because these characters could be any race and the dynamic would still remain the same and we’d still feel the same based on the way the story is being told. It’s not real life. It’s fiction. Carmy is never gonna be perfect and doesn’t have to be for a romantic relationship with Sydney to make sense. And vice versa.

Sometimes it’s okay to let societal issues fall away when it comes to fiction. This is a way to escape all of that.

And I know I’m picking and choosing when and where race/gender matters in this show but I think it is too. Professionally it matters. Personally it doesn’t.

#the bear meta #SydMarcus #sydcarmy #black love in media #just trying to put together what it feels like to be in some shipping wars as a BW who loves black love but is not going to force it #sydney adamu #Marcus brooks #carmy berzatto #ship what you want #platonic and messy

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dreamdropsystem · 6 months

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rainbow shio and flower - shio

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ilongfor-the-arts · 1 year

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This idea came to me as I was watching Below Deck! Carmy as a yacht chef and reader is the chief stew. Enemies to lovers vibes!

Below Deck

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader

Warnings: language, semi public kissing, angst

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 3.1k

“Alright chef, what do we have here?”

I inquired, my eyes glazing over the vast array of delectable dishes.

“We’ve made kobe steaks with a demi-glace. And creamy pesto shrimp.”

I nodded.

“Hm. Looks good.”

I twisted my head to meet Carmen's gaze, hands on my hips. Carmen and I hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye throughout the duration of our employment on this yacht. However, I am impressed with his efforts thus far. I can only hope and pray that he does not give me an excuse to become irritated.

“What are you thinking of making for the vegetarian option?”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow.

“The pesto shrimp.”

There you have it. He just gave me a reason to be annoyed.

“Carmen, shrimp isn’t vegetarian.”

He furrowed his brow.

“Nah, shrimp is vegetarian.”

My face grew hot with rage.

“Carmen, shrimp is pescatarian!”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. My jaw dropped. Was he being serious?

“Oh. My. God.”

I rubbed my eyes. My day has already been challenging. The last thing I needed was for this moron to ruin the excellent system I had set up.

“Carmen, we have close to fifty guests on this yacht that don’t eat meat or fish!”

I looked at my watch. My jaw dropped. Time was ticking away, and dinner for fifty guests had yet to be prepared.

“Shit. Dinner is supposed to be served in 45 minutes.”

I muttered under my breath. I wiped my brow with my hand, trying to keep my cool in front of his kitchen staff. If we were alone, he would feel the full force of my rage.

“You need to make a completely new dish with no meat and no shellfish in 45 minutes.”

Carmen's eyes narrowed. He had absolutely no reason to be upset with me. It is not my fault that he does not understand the distinction between a pescatarian and a vegetarian..

“I don’t know if I-”

“Carmen.”

I said sternly, cutting him off.

“You screwed up, and now you have to fix this. I expect fifty plates of a brand new vegetarian dish in 45 minutes. I don’t care how the hell you get it done, but it needs to be done, and it needs to taste amazing.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Yknow, Y/N, I’m getting real sick of this fuckin’ shit.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“Sick of what shit?! You messed up, not me! It’s not my fault you’re a complete idiot who doesn’t know the difference between a pescatarian and a vegetarian!”

Carmen took a step forward, decreasing the gap between us.

“Not just this, you’ve been out to fuckin’ get me the entire time I’ve been on this goddamn boat! I’m sick of your attitude, and I’m sick of you praying for my fuckin’ downfall!”

He repeatedly thrust his finger at me, emphasizing his exasperation. I stood my ground, not faltering.

"Look," I said, moving in closer to whisper. The soft clanging of pots and pans stopped as the majority of the kitchen staff listened intently to our conversation.

“I’m sorry that I won’t sit here and kiss your ass. You’ve been screwing up. When you do things, you do them extremely well. But you need to learn how to listen. I won’t pretend you’re amazing if you’re not.”

Carmen's tough exterior had cracked just enough to show his discomfort.

“I am not praying for your downfall, but if you don’t start listening, I won’t hesitate to find someone else.”

Carmen sighed with aggravation.

“You’re a royal fucking bitch, y’know that?”

I waved my hand through the air, dismissing his previous comment.

“You can think I’m a bitch all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that we need fifty vegetarian dishes in-”

I checked my watch.

“40 minutes. If I were you, I’d stop wasting time and get cooking, alright? I’m not gonna sit here and let you make me look bad.”

Carmen locked his gaze on mine. The tension in the air was palpable. This was a competition. A competition I was most definitely not losing. He held my gaze. Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. But I was not fazed. He eventually realized the jig was up. Carmen sighed deeply, his gaze rapidly shifting away from mine.

“Alright chefs!”

He called out to his staff.

“We need fifty vegetarian dishes in the next forty minutes. I wanna hear some ideas and see some seriously good shit being made!”

I smiled, pleased that I had won the battle. I stepped onto the deck, ready to greet the yacht's numerous guests. The rest of the day was a blur.

The number of times I heard, "Y/N, have you done this yet?"

“Y/N, I need this done right now!”

“Y/N, I need this.”

“Y/N, I need that!”

“Y/N, where’s the owner?”

By the end of the day, my head felt like it was going to explode. I had heard my name so frequently that by the time I was given a break, it irritated me.

I found a secluded area of the dock away from the party's hustle and bustle. I sat in one of the lounge chairs, resting not only my body but my mind as well. I rubbed my temples, trying to work out the various knots that had formed in my brain.

I cast my eyes out onto the breathtaking South Pacific. Wow. What a luxury it would be if I was free from work! What a wonderful life I would have if my only goal was to gaze out onto this beautiful water and drink fruity little drinks with a handsome man by my side.

But, alas, here I am, enjoying my brief respite before the owner summons me.

“What are you doin’ out here?”

My heart leaped. I turned around to reveal the source of the voice, Carmen Berzatto. He stood there with a smug expression on his face, his white chef's apron splattered with various stains.

“What, did Claire not give you enough shit to do?”

He asked, pulling a box of cigarettes from the pocket of his apron. I rolled my eyes.

“She said I could take a break while the guests enjoyed their dinner.”

Carmen popped a cigarette into his mouth.

“Don’t you have to make dessert soon?”

I inquired, hoping to provide an excuse for him to leave. He hummed, cupping his hand around the butt of the cigarette to keep the lighter's flame from blowing out.

“Nah. When dinner’s almost over, I’ll start cooking something up. So, I reckon I got about thirty to forty five minutes?”

The cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke.

“Did you come out here just to annoy me?”

Carmen scoffed, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his inked forearms. I could not help but glaze my eyes over the various tattoos. I wonder if they have any significance.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came out here because I knew it would be quiet.”

I sighed with exasperation.

“I did as well. I suppose I thought wrong.”

He glanced at me.

“I whipped something together for the vegetarians.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

Carmen scoffed with annoyance.

“No need to thank me.”

Carmen chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette before removing it and blowing the cloud of smoke into the crystal clear air. I rolled my eyes.

“I shouldn’t have to thank you after you did what you’re being paid to do. Maybe if you listened and did everything right the first time, I would thank you for your efficiency. But I’m not going to thank you for stressing me out and nearly making me look like a disorganized moron.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Well, Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Y/N, at least give me a little credit! I worked my fuckin’ ass off and prepared fifty vegetarian dishes in forty minutes with no recipe!”

He stated firmly. He would be shouting if his volume rose a few decibels.

“I mean, would it fuckin’ kill you to lose your bitch tendencies for a couple seconds and say thank you?!”

Carmen was flailing his hands around, wisps of smoke trailing the end of his cigarette.

I clenched my teeth. I was so enraged that steam was escaping from my ears. I was tempted to speak. But I was afraid of what might come out. So I simply bit my tongue and averted my gaze.

Instead, I observed the guests rushing around the lower deck. I watched them drink, eat, and laugh. I imagined what they were discussing.

Perhaps the dapper, older gentleman in the blue suit had just returned from his daughter's wedding..

Maybe the young blonde lady in the red dress had a fantastic date last week.

Perhaps the middle-aged man with the big cigar just sold his company.

I tried to push Carmen away from my thoughts. Maybe if I pretended he was not there, he would leave when he realized he was not getting a rise out of me.

“Y’know, it’s unfortunate,” he began.

I jerked my head around to face him. His cigarette had been reduced to a mere inch.

“What is?”

I inquired.

“You’re an attractive lady. You’ve got a drive and passion I admire. You know how to handle yourself.”

He dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe.

“I feel like we could be good friends.”

I scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right, literally all we’ve done so far is butt heads and yell at each other-”

“Alright, alright, so we don’t work well together. But I think, given the right circumstances, we could get along.”

I considered it for a moment. Carmen was undeniably attractive. I also admired his zeal. And, according to what I have heard through the grapevine, he was very respectful of his entire kitchen staff.

“Is this a strange, roundabout way of asking me on a date?”

Carmen shrugged, placing his hands on his hips.

“If I asked, would you accept?”

I shouldn’t. There is no logical explanation as to why I would accept. I hate him. We’ve been quarreling the entire time we’ve been on this ship.

“Yes.”

Carmen cracked a grin.

“Well, then, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

I nodded.

“I think I would like that very much.”

I patted the empty lounge chair across from me.

“Care to sit?”

Carmen accepted.

It was very easy to get sucked into the bustle of the yacht during the day. It was so simple to dismiss Carmen as a person with feelings and instead view him solely as a body hired to complete a task. However, I felt sorry for him after witnessing him in such a private setting.

“Hey, um-I’m sorry I called you an idiot earlier.”

“It’s all good. Don’t sweat it.”

He looked down at the floor.

“I’m-uh-I’m sorry for calling you a royal bitch.”

It was now my turn to chuckle.

“It’s all good. I was kind of being a royal bitch.”

Carmen cracked a smirk and shrugged.

“I mean, I was bein’ a bitch too.”

Carmen twiddled his thumbs.

“Sorry, I got so pissed at you. You were just doin’ your job.”

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s all good. You’ve taken care of it, and the guests are happy. That’s all I care about.”

Our close proximity allowed me to study him. I noticed the numerous cuts on his hands, the ink on his arms, and the sheen of sweat on his brow. He smelled like cigarettes and smoke.

I suddenly felt overdressed in my blazer and heels. I should be wearing a swimsuit and holding a refreshing drink. He should be the one who overdresses. He should be walking along the deck of his yacht in a white button-up and black dress pants, like a true rich man. The sun should feel pleasurable on my bare skin. Instead, I felt hot and suffocated beneath layers of fancy clothing.

I noticed a food speck on his face. Perhaps some sauce. I cupped his face in my hand, rubbing the stain away with my thumb.

Carmen seized. His face grew hot under my touch. I barely noticed, as my brow was furrowed in concentration.

Before I could completely remove the speck, he began to lean in.

I drew back abruptly, my breath catching in my throat.

My heartbeat quickened.

My cheeks turned bright red.

My jaw dropped to the floor.

Was he trying to kiss me?!

A look of realization wafted over Carmen.

“Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry! Holy shit, I thought you were trynna kiss me!”

Oh my God. He thought-

“Oh! No, no, no no no. I was just trying to get rid of some food on your face!”

Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ah! Shit I’m sorry!”

I shook my head, dismissing his apologies.

“You’re fine! You’re totally fine! It was my fault.”

Despite the gentle sound of birds and the bustle of people on the lower deck, an awkward silence ensued. Blush was painfully visible on both of our cheeks. Clearly, we both wanted to forget the discomfort that had just occurred. We didn’t even dare look each other in the eyes.

Then, once the silence had lingered, the mood shifted.

We both sensed it.

We exchanged glances, our demeanors tinged with lust.

I could sense the desire swimming in his eyes.

I straightened my back, hoping to calm the butterflies in my lower abdomen.

Carmen and I cocked our heads to the side, peering into the little living area to ensure no one was loitering as we were easily visible through the sliding glass door.

We locked eyes.

His pupils were now blown out with lust, and only a faint circle of blue could be seen.

“Do-”

I gulped.

“Do you think anyone will see us?”

I whispered.

Carmen shrugged.

“Maybe.”

He spoke in hushed tones.

Whatever.

I practically leapt on him as we locked lips. The tension had been broken. As I straddled his waist, I could feel blood rushing in my ears. My heartbeat quickened to the point where distinct pumps could barely be made out.

I’ve never been this worked up over a man in my life.

Carmen's hands reached my waist. He pulled me closer till there was no more room between us. I sighed deeply into his lips, allowing my rigid form to loosen.

I was a sensible woman.

I never took unnecessary risks.

And I certainly wasn’t one to put my job on the line just so I could make out with the head chef.

But Jesus, there was something about Carmen.

There was something so arousing about how taboo this whole situation was.

He made me want to be so… bad.

I threw my arms around his shoulders, tugging him impossibly closer as his tongue slipped past my teeth. It was instantly a battle for dominance. We were two incredibly passionate people. It wasn’t in our nature to fold.

“God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”

He mumbled sexily against my lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about having you on top of me.”

My stomach fluttered. I wonder if he ever thought about me in bed, long after we fought. I wonder if he allowed his calloused fingers to slip below the waistband of his boxers.

I ran my nails along his scalp, eliciting a whimper from the back of his throat.

God, he was sexy.

I shifted my weight slightly atop his lap. My clothed core brushed against his erection. I groaned involuntarily, my hips instantly searching for more friction.

“You make me so hard.”

It wasn't just the heat of the day that was making me sweat. Carmen’s hands traveled toward the waistband of my dress pants.

“Please,” he groaned with desperation, “please, I wanna make you feel good.”

I desperately wanted to throw off all of my stupid fancy clothes and feel the sun on my skin while I rode him like my life depended on it. But, alas, I knew it was neither the right place, nor the right time.

“Carmen, I have to get back to work.”

I uttered between heated kisses.

“Later, though, I promise.”

I climbed off him.

Jesus, bad idea to make out with someone in the middle of a shift. Now, I was uncomfortably wet and far too aroused to finish my day with a clear head.

Well, I suppose that’s the price I pay for throwing every ounce of sensibility out the window.

“What time is it?”

Carmen asked, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain his composure.

I checked my watch. My jaw dropped.

Man, my time management skills were awful today.

“Holy shit it’s been half an hour! Your staff is probably wondering where the hell you’ve been!”

Carmen shot up, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Oh my God I still have to make fuckin’ dessert for everyone!”

Although I am all for getting things done on time. Carmen could not go back to work with…

“Y’know, I would advise, um-maybe, going to the bathroom.”

My eyes shot back and forth between his erection and his eyes. Carmen glanced down, immediately getting the memo.

“Shit! Shit, I don’t have fuckin’ time for this!”

I placed my hands on his shoulders to keep him from getting too worked up.

“It’s okay! Just take a deep breath. I’ll tell them you’re dealing with a family emergency or something!”

Carmen shook his head rapidly.

“No, shit! I’m already behind schedule.”

He shrugged my hands off his shoulders.

“I really have to get to the kitchen Y/N.”

He began to walk away, but I grasped his shoulders, spinning his body back around to face me.

“Well, would you rather explain to your staff why you’re late, or why you’re hard.”

Carmen stalled, running his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah, on second thought that’s a good point… alright, we’ll go with your plan.”

I gave him a nod of approval. He turned to leave. But, before entering the small living area, he flipped back to face me.

“Hey, remember to find me later Y/N!”

He shouted.

I recalled our brief, yet passionate moment on the lounge chair. A grin spread slowly over my face.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget!”

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ausetkmt · 1 month

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How Black women shaped Tim Walz’s politics after the death of George Floyd

From inside Minnesota’s executive mansion, Gov. Tim Walz could hear the grieving woman’s bellows..

Toshira Garraway’s voice quavered as she spoke to the hundreds gathered outside the residence in St. Paul. It was a sunny Monday in June 2020, just days after George Floyd had been murdered in Minneapolis.

Protesters across the world had been shouting Floyd’s name, but Garraway and other speakers — almost all Black women — were invoking the names of men who hadn’t garnered as much attention after they died in encounters with Minnesota law enforcement. Hardel. Kobe. Justin.

The lifeless body of Justin Teigen, Garraway’s boyfriend, had been found in a recycling bin in 2009. Police had said they were chasing Teigen and lost track of him when he hid in a dumpster, where he remained when the trash was compacted. Garraway was convinced police had killed him.

“They didn’t throw him in the river! They didn’t throw him in the woods!” Garraway shouted. “They threw him in the trash! That’s what they think of our people.”

“I could hear her pain,” Walz recalled in a 2021 interview with a Washington Post reporter. Walz, who is now the Democratic nominee for vice president, stepped outside the residence for a closer listen.

When Garraway heard that Walz had joined the crowd, she stepped away from the microphone to meet him. She asked for his cellphone number.

“I had been calling and writing the governor and attorney general for years,” she recalled telling him. “I want you to meet with our families.”

He promised he would.

At the most critical juncture in Walz’s tenure as governor, with the world pointing to his state as an example of gross injustice, he found insights and counsel from Garraway and a group of Black women who pleaded with him to do more to address systemic racism.

This story is based on years of interviews with Walz and those women, starting 11 months after Floyd’s death as part of research for a book on Floyd’s life and legacy.

Walz’s last interview was in May, two months before he was selected as the running mate of Vice President Kamala Harris, the first woman of color to be the Democratic nominee for president. During the discussions, Walz offered the most expansive, personal accounts he has ever provided about how Floyd’s murder changed his worldview — and about the women who helped shape it.

The women cried with him, prodded him, prayed with him. They admired his ability to listen without interrupting them, and appreciated the get-well cards he sent when they were sick. When it comes to supporting a Black woman who is already facing racist attacks in her bid for the presidency, they think Walz is ready.

But even more than his empathy, the women relished the opportunity to help Walz craft legislation that specifically addressed their concerns. That’s when the relationship became more difficult.

“He makes political calculations in terms of where he’s going to put his energy and spend down political capital, which any responsible person or elected official will do,” said Nekima Levy Armstrong, a former head of the Minneapolis chapter of the NAACP. “But because of his nature, you always have in the back of your mind that he will go the extra mile. … That’s when you get disappointed.”

Beyond Walz’s reputation as a folksy liberal, likely to be on display when he speaks Wednesday at the Democratic National Convention, the women saw a politician trying to navigate uncertain terrain. The national zest for police reform would eventually slow, and Walz’s national profile would begin to soar. And now, some in the group say he has lost interest in them.

Walz declined to comment for this article, but a spokeswoman wrote that Walz “deeply values the friendships, what he’s been able to learn from them, and the reforms they worked together to pass. He continues to meet with them and looks forward to their continued work together to improve Minnesota.”

Garraway has not heard from Walz in more than a year. When friends started texting about his becoming Harris’s running mate, she didn’t fully know what to say.

“I don’t want to bash the man, but all I can do is speak from my heart, and I’m conflicted,” Garraway said. “I cannot say that empathy was not there. But, as time went on and this was no longer the headlining topic, we became less and less important. Our families are pushed to the side and, basically, ignored. It is painful and hurtful.”

Philando Castile's mother, Valerie, holds flowers during a demonstration outside the governor's home in St. Paul on July 7, 2016.

Before Floyd’s death, Walz had been warned about the insidious threat of racism in Minnesota.

The prediction came from Valerie Castile, whose son Philando had been shot and killed at a traffic stop in a suburb of St. Paul in 2016. “Mark my word, if it keeps on going in this direction, something really bad is going to happen,” Castile recalled telling him.

“That was back in 2017,” she said.

At the time, Walz was serving in Congress and preparing a bid for governor. She told him she had dedicated her life to finding a way to bring honor to her son’s name. She spoke about Philando’s generous spirit — the school cafeteria worker would dig into his own pocket to help a student who couldn’t afford lunch.

And then, Castile quizzed Walz on why he thought Black people disproportionately die at the hands of police.

“I’m going to be brutally honest with you,” Castile recalled telling him. “We know it’s a racist factor that’s the underlying problem within law enforcement.”

The two formed a tight bond, calling themselves “friends.” Walz said her honesty showed him how “the basic joys of life are always clouded by” racism, and illuminated “the day-to-day, year-after-year systemic issues and microaggressions that people endure.”

“It just permeates everything,” he told The Post.

Walz, who grew up in Nebraska and moved to rural Minnesota as an adult, said he knew he had a blind spot when it came to the Black experience, “being a middle-aged White guy [from] a town of 300 … with no people of color.” In Minnesota, where only 7 percent of the population is Black, politicians often note how easy it can be to miss the struggles of the African American community. So many of the state’s bragging points — its high incomes, its healthy residents, its high-performing students — disguise some of the country’s widest disparities in wealth, life expectancy and education between Blacks and Whites.

After Walz became governor in 2019, Black lawmakers and activists said, he and his wife engaged with Black communities immediately. Walz said that they were eager to learn — and that they were surprised by what they discovered.

During one event, a Black woman told him she had moved to Duluth from Arkansas. Compared with racism in the Deep South, she said, she found Minnesota’s to be “quieter — but meaner.”

On another occasion, Levy Armstrong, the former NAACP official, told him that state lawmakers had a history of “admiring the problem” — acknowledging that disparities existed but not working hard enough to eradicate them.

Then a police officer knelt on Floyd’s neck in May 2020.

As video of the brutal incident spread, Walz reached out to Castile.

“What do you think they’re going to do?” she recalled Walz asking her.

“You better get ready,” Castile said. “They’re about to tear this motherf---er up.”

Castile was right. Although most of the protests were peaceful, large businesses were looted, windows were smashed and a police station was set aflame.

Not long afterward, the Floyd family asked Walz to remove the county attorney from the investigation of the killing. Walz agreed to assign Keith Ellison, the state’s attorney general, who had a history of working against police brutality. Walz told The Post that he was thinking of Castile when he made the decision.

“She was adamant, and groups of folks who had talked to me even before George Floyd [died] believed that we needed to have an independent prosecutor’s office,” Walz said. “That there’s just too close a connection between the police and the county attorneys.”

Walz, center, joins protesters in front of the Minnesota Governor's Residence on June 1, 2020, after the murder of George Floyd.

A few weeks after Walz spoke with the Floyds, he met with Garraway and the other women on a Zoom call.

Garraway spoke again about her boyfriend, referring to his death as the “2009 version of Emmett Till.”

The police account of the events had always seemed fantastical to her. But in 2009, there were no body cameras or Black Lives Matter movement — and few people took her seriously. After three years, only one lawyer said he would be interested in taking the case. By then, it was too late — the state had a three-year statute of limitations for investigating officers.

Amity Dimock told Walz the story of her autistic son, Kobe Dimock-Heisler, who was killed in 2019 by police during a wellness check. Police said Kobe had lunged at them with a knife, but Amity said she believed the officers reacted so quickly because they were ill-equipped to deal with mental illness.

Del Shea Perry spoke of her son Hardel Sherrell, who died in a jail cell in 2018. Officers ignored Sherrell when he said he wasn’t feeling well. Security camera footage over eight days captured him falling hard off a bed, going limp and dying in a pool of his own waste, never receiving medical attention.

As the women recounted their pain, Walz’s eyes welled with tears. He told The Post that he, like many in the state, needed to do more soul-searching on why it was so easy to look past the trauma of racism that Castile assured him existed.

“This is a great state if you’re White, not so much if you’re not,” Walz later recalled thinking. “And that pains me, but it has to be said. And it’s the truth.”

Amity Dimock, right, is comforted by another woman during a demonstration outside the Governor's Residence on June 6, 2020.

After the conversations with the women, Walz said he went back to his staff and asked, “What can we do? What can we change?”

They encouraged the women to work with racial justice organizations to craft legislation, and by 2021, more than a dozen police reform bills had been introduced. Some followed national trends. They asked for the state legislature to limit the use of chokeholds and no-knock warrants. They asked that the state allow police officers to be sued directly for actions taken in the line of duty, ending a practice known as “qualified immunity” that shielded them.

Other bills were directly inspired by the women’s stories. One would have ended the statute of limitations for wrongful-death suits related to police killings — potentially giving Garraway the chance to find out what had happened to Justin. Another would have referred 911 calls to mental health crisis teams when appropriate — which Dimock thought could have saved Kobe’s life. A third would have mandated wellness checks in jails — which could have led to an intervention for Hardel.

The women set out for the State Capitol to lobby lawmakers, but struggled to gain traction. About a year after Floyd’s death, conservatives were nervous that such measures might deplete the morale of police departments, which were losing officers.

“After Minneapolis started burning, the Republicans immediately went to blaming Governor Walz and Mayor [Jacob] Frey, and [saying] the Democrats will let the city burn down,” said Jeffrey Hayden, who was a Democratic state senator. Hayden said Republicans appeared hesitant to act, arguing that Floyd’s death had been “an isolated incident.”

The women said they found it difficult to find advocates even among rural Democrats, who they said would stare at them with blank faces. They asked the governor to leverage his authority, and he tried at first. He threatened to keep the legislative session open until lawmakers passed police reform, and he negotiated with Republicans, who were in control of the state’s House.

Del Shea Perry cries as she marches with demonstrators near the Governor's Residence on June 6, 2020. Beside her is a photo of son Hardel Sherrell.

The legislature agreed to pass a bill in honor of Sharell, to make changes to police training and to limit the use of chokeholds. Walz used executive action to add $15 million for violence-prevention programs, and then required that police provide body-camera footage to families within five days of incidents involving a death. But the legislature rejected the toughest measures, such as strengthening civilian oversight of police departments and ending qualified immunity.

And the measure to lift the statute of limitations also failed, meaning there would be no chance to get to the truth of what happened to Garraway’s boyfriend.

On the last day of the session, Garraway and the other women held a news conference. She pleaded with her new friend, the governor, to try to do more.

“You listen to our stories. You watch us break down. You watch us cry,” she said. “How can you make a deal to say this is okay?”

A few months after the legislation failed, Walz put his disappointment plainly: “I feel like I failed Toshira.”

Walz told The Post back then that he had learned that White men like him wanted to probe the details while Black women like Garraway sought swift action because the lives of their families were at stake.

“This is a complex issue. It’s nuanced,” Walz said. “But in the midst of this are people who say, ‘I don’t have time for nuance.’”

He wondered if the country needed a truth and reconciliation commission — like the one in post-apartheid South Africa — that would allow people to truly listen to the stories of pain and exploitation he had heard.

After the 2021 legislative session, Walz said he felt the chance to have an honest conversation about racism in America — and then work to fix it — had probably passed him by. He worried that, between the pandemic, the protests and the unraveling of the great American reckoning on race, the country was not “healing.”

“I don’t know if we’ll get another shot at it,” Walz said. “I’m worried about this. … I’m worried [about what] I’m seeing at the national level. I’m seeing our democracy under threat, and I’m seeing the community here that’s losing faith.”

Back then, he also recognized how not addressing the problem would mar his political legacy.

“One way or another, I will be associated with this,” Walz said.

Valerie Castile speaks at a Minneapolis rally on June 16, 2023, after the release of a U.S. Justice Department investigation into the Minneapolis Police Department.

Valerie Castile had not lost faith.

After a jury in 2017 acquitted the police officer who killed Philando, she spent years seeking another route to honor her son’s legacy.

She started a foundation to clear the balances of grade-school students who couldn’t afford to pay for school meals, then began pushing the state legislature to make breakfast and lunch free for all students. In 2023, with a Democratic majority in all three chambers, the bill passed.

It became one of Walz’s signature pieces of legislation, and the photo of children hugging him after he signed the bill has become an indelible political image. Watching proudly in the back that day was Castile.

“Oh my God, we finally did it,” Castile remembered thinking. “Congratulations, Phil.”

After the police reform bills were rejected, Walz tried other routes to deal with racial disparities, at the behest of Democrats eager to avoid bills that could be deemed as anti-police.

Walz worked with lawmakers in 2023 to invest more than $70 million in workforce training for manufacturing and tech jobs. After the NAACP filed a lawsuit alleging that the child-welfare system disproportionately separated Black families, they approved proactive steps to keep families together. They passed laws barring discrimination based on hairstyles and establishing an office to investigate suspicious deaths of Black women that have become cold cases.

In May 2024, Walz told The Post that these policies have helped to close some of the state’s racial gaps. For example, the median household income for Black Minnesotans has jumped 70 percent since 2011, the seventh-fastest growth rate in the country, according to the state’s Department of Employment and Economic Development.

“We’ve stopped admiring the problem,” Walz said in the interview. “We’ve learned not to do the Minnesota thing, which is to look at disparities, say ‘Oh that’s too bad,’ then go and eat pie.”

He also said he was wrong to wonder if the country might have missed its chance to eradicate racism.

“That was a part of my trauma speaking,” Walz said.

The women he met in 2020, though, still wonder if they will ever experience any relief from their trauma, a smidgen of which Castile felt when Walz signed the school meals bill. They accuse Walz of giving up on police reform too quickly. Perry, whose son died in the jail cell, continued trying to persuade Walz that they needed to do more work. In 2018, when Hardel Sherrell died, there were nine other deaths at county jails, state data shows. Last year, there were 20 deaths.

Her phone calls, though, were being returned much more infrequently. Perry’s advocacy didn’t even get a hearing during the last legislative session. When she met Walz earlier this year, he asked if she had been in touch with the Rev. Al Sharpton. Maybe some national attention would help, he suggested.

“Maybe he should call him,” Perry told The Post. “He knows him. I don’t. I’m a grieving mother.”

Still racked with pain, Garraway said there are bigger matters on her mind than Walz’s potential vice presidency.

When county prosecutors decided in June to drop their case against a state trooper who killed a Black man named Ricky Cobb II during a traffic stop, she called Walz to see if she could get answers from a man she thought she understood. Walz had supported dropping the charges, saying it would be impossible to prove that the officer used excessive force.

But after introducing Walz to so many grieving families, Garraway was desperate to know why he could side with the police in this case. She trusted his judgment. So after his big speech accepting the nomination and all the balloons and the pageantry of the Democratic convention, she hopes he’ll answer her calls again. She longs to hear his voice.

#How Black women shaped Tim Walz’s politics after the death of George Floyd #minnesota #minneapolis #George Floyd #Philando Castile #Ricky cobb #Hardel Sherrell #bad police #end qualified immunity #murdered by the police #Walz #Coach #Presidential Election 2024 #Tim Walz #Black Women #Black Lives Matter

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gatheringbones · 1 year

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Hey, do you have any good books for understanding and disarticulating authoritarianism? I've really benefited from a lot of your book recs, thank you

start granular go big

I cut my eye teeth on domestic violence literature, then by the time I got to Judith Herman explaining that the tactics of abusive families and abusive governments are the same, I had enough base knowledge on the internal systems of abusive families to muddle my way forward from there. I’ll try to structure the list so it follows that same basic trend.

adult children of emotionally immature parents by lindsay c gibson

controlling people by patricia evans

trauma and recovery: the aftermath of violence from domestic abuse to political terror by judith herman

if this is a man by primo levi

by hands now known: jim crow’s legal executioners by margaret a. burnham

the man they wanted me to be: toxic masculinity and a crisis of our own making by jared yates sexton

jesus and john wayne: how white evangelicals corrupted a faith and fractured a nation, by kristin kobes du mez

caste: on the origins of our discontents, by isabel wilkerson

white rage: the unspoken truth of our racial divide by carol anderson

captive genders: trans embodiment and the prison industrial complex by eric a. stanley

the origins of totalitarianism by hannah arendt

#book recs tag

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dreamdropsystemarchive · 2 years

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mom..

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fuck-customers · 6 months

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Holy shit, today was wild.

So after our previous general manager left, O came in as a temporary replacement. I’m not sure if he’s staying on as permanent at this point or what; idk if anyone knows. For some reason, not all of his managerial privileges (idk if that’s the right word) are working in the system. So like he can’t make schedules and whatever other stuff it is that managers do (I’m just a cashier I have no clue). S, the highest up assistant manager (idk if that’s actually a thing but there’s always been one at our store), decides to do O a favor and make the schedules until things get sorted out. O’s been here around two months, with S still doing the schedule and other duties that O should be doing all the while—with O being paid the general manager’s wages and S getting paid his regular wages—and like at this point idk if O just has decided he’s fine with having S do the heavy lifting or if our company is just having some wild issue that can’t get this system error with his account fixed.

Our last person who worked print on weekends left, leaving us scrambling on the weekends. Finally, we get a new guy who’s gonna take the weekends. Store opens, and the guy doesn’t show up (apparently he misremembered/misread his schedule and ended up coming in an hour or two late). So I’m at the register, assistant manager K is at shipping, and S is at print. All S and K know how to do with print is give people stuff they’ve already ordered, and I know jack and shit about print so I’m staying over in my corner. A woman comes in, and she got her order yesterday, but it’s the wrong size. She’s upset and is on a deadline and needs the right size ASAP. S says he can give her a refund and transfer her order to a nearby store, and we’re all apologizing coz yeah that’s definitely a rough situation.

Idk exactly what happens next, but more customers start coming in and going towards print after a while, with that first woman still there. S is getting overwhelmed, so he calls O and asks for his advice. O tells him that this is all his fault, and that it’s his responsibility to make the schedules and make sure that there is someone at every station. So S just leaves the print station, tells us he’s done for the day, and goes into the manager’s office (which is basically his office at this point because—as we’ve established—he’s doing everything O should be doing), leaving K and I kinda freaking out as we try to figure out what to do. At one point K even goes into the office and starts arguing and yelling at S (K’s super chill and I’ve never heard him yell before).

Eventually S cools off. Between O and that first customer (who I heard another customer refer to as “the devil” on her way out when talking to her husband), he just couldn’t put up with all that shit. S is a very calm and nice guy. When I found out there’d been an error on my part that meant I’d been getting paid for my lunch breaks for a YEAR (this was between the previous GM leaving and O arriving), S told me that it was okay because I’m worth it and now I know what happened I can make sure it won’t happen again.

I’m good friends with another assistant manager, and she received a text from O that we think was meant for S saying that he’s a leader and needs to learn to take responsibility and own up and whatnot. To top it all off, my friend also shows me a text O sent in the manager group chat:

“To be an effective leader, you have to be a really good listener and not to what's being said, but to what's not being said. You have to be really observant. That was a big transition for me.” — Kobe Bryant

S is still working here, but any GM duties are now O’s problem. He’s done with doing him favors.

Posted by admin Rodney.

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