On #dementia TikTok, family caregivers find support and bring the disease to light

It all changed on a Saturday night in New York City in 2016. Jacquleyn Revere was 29 years old, and headed out for the evening to attend a friend’s comedy show.

She was still on the subway when her phone rang. It was a friend of her mom’s, back in Los Angeles. That’s weird, Revere thought. She never calls.

“And while I was on the subway, my mom’s friend said, ‘Something is wrong with your mom,'” Revere said. ” ‘We don’t know what’s going on, but your mom got lost driving home. What should have been a 15 minute drive, ended up taking two hours.’ “

Revere flew back to L.A. At her mom’s home in Inglewood, she found foreclosure notices, untreated termite damage on the porch, and expired food in the kitchen.

Her mother, Lynn Hindmon, was a devout Evangelical who worked for her local church. A slim, regal, self-declared “health nut,” Hindmon was now forgetting to pay bills and couldn’t remember who she was talking to on the phone. This was just a few years after Hindmon herself had moved in with her own mother, Joyce Hindmon, Revere’s grandmother, after the matriarch had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

“My mom was taking care of her mom, who had Alzheimer’s, [and] not telling anybody how hard it was or that she needed help, or that it was completely stressing her out,” Revere says.

“And then it became about me coming home to be in a house with three generations of trauma, and working my way through that … while also being afraid and young and scared and not knowing what to do.”

It would take nearly a year before they got the diagnosis that confirmed what Revere already suspected: Her mother had Alzheimer’s, too. Barely 10 years since Revere left home, she found herself moving back in with her mom and her grandmother — this time as their full-time caregiver.

“That first year and a half, I was just filled with fear: What if I lose the house?” Revere says. Because of the stress, she says, “I went through bouts of migraines. My hair, right in the middle, fell out completely.”

“I had to figure out how to get control of all the banking, figure out the passwords, make sure the bills are paid, make sure everything’s taken care of.”

In 2017, her grandmother died. Revere’s grief and isolation felt overpowering. Her friends in their 20s either couldn’t relate, or thought she was “wallowing in pity,” Revere says.

Trying to get them to understand what her daily life was like now seemed impossible. “I just wanted to find people I didn’t have to explain everything to,” she says.

Revere even tried a support group for caregivers, an hour’s drive away. But the other attendees were decades older, and had more financial resources. “[They] would say ‘And now I have to take equity out of our house,’ or ‘I’m thinking of reaching into our 401k.’ And then I would tell my story, and people would be looking at me like … a charity case, or like my problem is unsolvable. … If anything, I left and I just felt worse.”

But these days Revere no longer feels so alone. In fact, she’s a celebrity of sorts on TikTok, at least among the hundreds of thousands of people who post about dementia and the difficulties of caring for a loved one with the disease.@momofmymom What were your first signs? #momofmymom#dementia#alzheimer#cognitivedecline♬ Pieces (Solo Piano Version) – Danilo Stankovic

Over the past few years, Revere’s account, @MomofMyMom, has become wildly popular, with more than 650,000 followers. Many of her most ardent fans have told her that they feel like they personally know her and her mom. Revere has both found a supportive community, and helped build one.

Caregivers for people with dementia have flocked to social media, but TikTok has been an especially helpful platform. Content with the hashtag “dementia” has already racked up more than 4 billion views on TikTok, as younger generations, already accustomed to sharing their lives online, now find themselves caring for aging loved ones — often with little preparation and no idea how to actually do that.

The “unmet need”

Alzheimer’s disease is the most common form of dementia, but other forms include vascular dementia, mixed dementia, dementia with Lewy bodies, and frontotemporal dementia, according to the CDC. Nearly all forms of dementia get worse over time, and there is no cure, although there are some treatments.

The task of caring for people with dementia usually falls on family members. Every year, an estimated 16 million Americans provide more than 17 billion hours of unpaid care for family or friends suffering from Alzheimer’s disease or other dementias, according to the CDC. About two-thirds of these caregivers are women.

“Here in the United States, unfortunately, there is not a very strong system of paid support for people with dementia,” says Elena Portacolone, an associate professor who studies aging and cognitive impairment at UCSF’s Institute for Health & Aging. “And so the most common way of supporting persons with dementia is the daughter.”

Like Revere, many of the women who become caregivers end up having to quit their jobs. They often now find themselves financially vulnerable and “extremely isolated,” says Portacolone. “So like Jacquelyn [Revere], the unpaid caregiver of her mother for six years, they are left to their own devices.”

Another expert, Teepa Snow, agrees that too many caregivers are struggling. Snow is an occupational therapist in North Carolina, and runs a company offering training for caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s and related dementias. “We know that there are so many younger…people out there dealing with one form of brain change or another in their life, and they’re left hanging,” she says.

If Revere is the older sister everyone on dementia TikTok wishes they had, then Snow is their patron saint. Her own how-to videos about practical, compassionate caregiving rack up millions of views. “TikTok is where people are expressing an unmet need,” she says.

Because there’s no cure for Alzheimer’s or dementia, the medical community often treats dementia the way previous generations of practitioners treated cancer — like “a big black box,” Snow says. Decades ago, when people got cancer, “we didn’t say anything, we didn’t talk about it. We said, ‘Oh gosh, that’s horrible.’ And people were like, ‘…How long have they got?’ “

And while cancer is still a devastating diagnosis to receive, the medical community is more likely to respond by creating “a therapeutic alliance with the patient and the family,” says Portacolone, the UCSF professor.

But families of Alzheimer’s patients often report feeling like the medical system simply hands them an Alzheimer’s diagnosis, tells them there’s no cure, and essentially shows them the door. “[They’ll say] ‘You know, there’s really not a lot we can do,'” Snow explains. ” ‘You could read this book about the origin [of dementia.]’ It’s like, the last thing I need is another book to read.”

What family members need from the medical system, Snow says, is more understanding of symptoms and how to handle them, more help setting up long-term support systems, and knowledge about how patients can be helped by changes to their diet, sleep, exercise and lifestyle.

All too often, however, caregivers are left to muddle through and figure out the complex tasks of keeping a patient safe. ‘That’s pretty lonely,” Snow says. “And that’s so common. And at this point in time, if we had five families dealing with dementia, four out of five would fall apart before the disease was ended. And so that person who’s just chosen to be the primary [caregiver], they’re all alone. They’re truly all alone.”

Caregivers for people with dementia have been reaching out to one another for years, holding local in-person support groups or joining mega-groups on Facebook. There’s also no shortage of websites or books about the disease and the burdens of caregiving.

But the COVID pandemic disrupted or closed down many of those supports, such as in-person groups, or the adult daycare center that Revere’s mom had been attending five days a week. During lockdown, Revere noticed her mom’s condition started deteriorating. Desperate to keep her stimulated, and to find some kind of social connection for herself, Revere did what so many others did during COVID: She got on TikTok.

A single TikTok post of Snow’s can rack up millions of views. That’s because dementia TikTok, she says, is where “people are expressing an unmet need.”

Using TikTok feels like being submerged in an infinite torrent of videos — most about a minute long. But the short video format has attracted caregivers, who find they can document and share the vivid, daily moments of their homebound worlds in ways that would be less visceral on more text- or photo-centric platforms.

‘How many of us are on here?’

Just as you can watch videos showing World Cup highlights, you can also watch a woman’s “day in the life” video of caring for her husband with early-onset Alzheimer’s.

Or, perhaps, watching one of Revere’s @MomofMyMom posts from 2020, which walks viewers through their bath routine.

“It’s bath day,” Revere says at the start of the post, while still lying in bed. “I try my best not to make this an emotionally draining experience,” she sighs. “So let’s begin.”

Giving someone with dementia a bath can be difficult, or even dangerous. They can get disoriented, or feel threatened when someone takes off their clothes or maneuvers them into a wet tub. They may slip and fall, or try to physically fight their caregiver.@momofmymom If i had one word of advice, it would be, try to have fun. #Caregiver#blackcaregiver#poccaregiver#caregiversupport#selfcare#momofmymom#caregivercoach#caregivingcoach#caregiverlife#caregivers#caregivertips#caregiverburnout#caregiverspace#dementiacare#dementia♬ original sound – 💜MomOfMyMom💜

But Revere has created a soothing and predictable routine for her mother Lynn. At the time of this video, Lynn Hindmon is 63, and it’s about five years after her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. She’s not speaking much.

But in this video, Lynn Hindmon is still gorgeous: tall and regal, with great cheekbones. She still loves to pick out her own clothes, and on this day she’s wearing neon blue leggings and a purple beanie hat. She’s put on gold hoops and pink lipstick.

Revere starts off by promising her mom a present — which she’ll get after the bath.

“We’re going to get you some new lipstick. All right, let’s start.” Revere walks her audience through the process — sharing what works for them. She turns on some soul music, plugs in the space heater, puts the dog outside and lays out all her mom’s clothes. “Lure her into my cave,” she says, as her mom enters the bathroom.

The video then cuts to after the bath is over: Hindmon is dressed again, and mother and daughter are celebrating with a dance party in the bathroom.

“We dance and we dance and we dance,” Revere narrates. “And when we’re done, she gets a gift.” At last, Revere brings out the promised gift: a sleek black tube of lipstick.

“I have a present,” Revere tells her mom. Hindmon beams, but struggles to open the cap. “Here you go, it’s open,” Revere reassures her. “I opened it for you.”

Revere could not believe this video, of their regular bath routine, got more than 20,000 views. Hundreds of people left comments, saying how they can relate. One comment read: “My mother-in-law passed a year ago this week. This was the most frustrating part of caring for her. Devoted a whole day to getting this done). Another commenter told Revere “God Bless you! I know it’s hard. I see you and send so much love your way.”@momofmymom

I miss us, but so happy to have the memories💜♬ original sound – 💜MomOfMyMom💜

It was then that Revere realized she was no longer so alone. All the burdens of caregiving — the house maintenance, the medical bills and insurance paperwork — were still very real. But she knew others were out there, struggling with the same chores and challenges. It was because of her TikTok channel, and the community it was helping her tap into. Revere posted a follow up right away:

“How many of us are on here?” she said into the camera. “I’ve been, like, looking for people my age that I can relate to, who have the same experience.”

TikTokers responded from as far away as South Africa. Revere’s following soared from just a couple thousand followers to more than 650,000. Many people used the comments to talk about their own caregiving struggles. They wanted to see the little victories, like her gentle and even joyful tricks for getting through bath time. But they also listened to Revere’s candid confessions and watched her struggle through moments of total exhaustion.

“Ya’ll, I have never been so emotionally drained in my life,” she shared in one video from February of last year. “Caregiving eats your soul. It kills your spirit. It’s constant mourning for years. … And it’s beautiful. And it’s said. Some days you just have to take it breath by breath.”

The ethical issue: Should we be showing dementia patients like this?

But the intimate, unvarnished depictions of dementia on TikTok dementia also raise unavoidable ethical issues involving privacy, dignity and consent. Because now the internet is littered with videos of adults who, for the most part, haven’t given conscious consent to their most vulnerable moments being shared with millions of strangers.

In one TikTok, a granddaughter chronicles her grandmother’s aggression, filming as the elderly woman chases her through the house, fists swinging wildly. Other accounts film the verbal abuse that caregivers can experience, or show Alzheimer’s patients in their most vulnerable moments: a distraught woman standing in her living room in a thin nightgown, pleading for her long-dead parents to come pick her up.

Beth Kallmyer, the vice president for Care and Support for the Alzheimer’s Association, doesn’t think the people posting these videos intend to be exploitative. “You could tell that the caregivers just felt isolated and frustrated and at their wit’s end, with no resources,” she says.

“If I were talking to a family member … considering doing this,” Kallmyer says, “those are the questions I would pose to them: Would they [the person with dementia] be comfortable with this? Is there a way for you to film something that gets the idea across but maintains their dignity and maintains their self-respect?”

Public posts can potentially violate dignity in various ways, she explains. “Should we have a video of somebody that isn’t fully clothed? Or maybe [before Alzheimer’s] they only went outside when they were dressed to the nines or really put together, and you’ve got them in pajamas or sweatpants or whatever, and they don’t have makeup on. That’s about real … respect for the person. And I’m not sure that’s the best way to go about using TikTok.”

Some accounts have tried to directly address the issue of consent. The @TheKathyProject, for example, was created by sisters Kathy and Jean Collins to document the impacts and evolution of Kathy’s early-onset dementia diagnosis. In the early posts from 2020, Kathy’s symptoms are still fairly mild, and she’s clearly an eager participant in making and sharing the videos with the TikTok community.

Revere has a video that she now feels ambivalent about posting, in retrospect. Perhaps ironically, it’s the most-watched video on her channel, with 27 million views. In it, her mother is walking around the living room, holding an open bottle of mouthwash. She had somehow gotten past the locks on the bathroom cabinets.

Lynn Hindmon thinks the mouthwash is just a normal drink, like juice or milk. She looks frustrated and dazed as Revere tries to explain to her mom why she can’t drink mouthwash.

But Hindmon doesn’t want to let the mouthwash go. As caregivers know, Revere now has to keep this from escalating into a big conflict. “May I have it please? Please?” she asks her mom, who eventually relents and hands it over.

“Thank you so much, and I’m going to exchange it for something that tastes even better, all right?” Revere gets her mom a popsicle.

But some of the comments on that post were cruel, calling her mom an alcoholic, or saying she looked scary. The experience made Revere feel protective — like she needed to be more careful, as she didn’t want to post anything that might put her mom in a bad light. Still, after much consideration, she decided to keep the mouthwash video up. She says it’s still a good example of “redirecting” away from a risk — something other caregivers would understand.

Life after caregiving

On March 9, Jacquelyn Revere posted another video on TikTok.

“Hey ya’ll, I just wanted to come in and tell ya’ll that, that Mommy passed. She passed on Sunday night. … And it was, it was a really hard experience. And that’s really all I have for now. So lift us up in prayer. Send us your condolences. But Mommy is dancing up in heaven right now.”

Lynn Hindmon had collapsed suddenly at home on the evening of March 6. She died of cardiac arrest at the age of 65. On Tik Tok, the messages of surprise and condolence poured in.

“There were people who tuned in … to literally just watch Mommy eat in the morning, and then whatever we did at lunch time,” Revere says. “And people became a part of our family. People cried. People have been so touched by this story and have mourned my mom in a way that I never would have expected.”

For Revere, an only child, she’d always assumed that when her mom died, she’d have to mourn her alone. Instead, people were checking in on her, sending her gifts, sharing memories of their favorite videos of Lynn.

“It’s been the least lonely I’ve ever been throughout this experience actually,” she says. “It’s not just my lonely journey anymore. Now it’s everyone’s.

Revere has continued to post on @MomofMyMom. Recently she’s been posting about her grief. In videos, she talks about what it feels like to miss her mom, and to mourn the life she didn’t live while she was caring for her.

Now she has all the time in the world. She can go on dates. She can take her dog, Dewey, to the dog park again, let him lean out the open window in the car. Go out for a pedicure or drive by the ocean. But it’s been hard to let herself do these things, she tells her followers. Because what they mean is that her mom is gone.

After six years of caring for her mom, starting when she was just 29, Revere is now trying to figure out who she is now — and what she wants. She knows she wants to stay connected with dementia caregivers, especially the ones who don’t have huge followings, or who don’t get thousands of comments about what a good job they’re doing.

“I just want them to know that they’re being thought about,” Revere says. “Because that’s what I needed most. Just to know that life isn’t passing me by, and I’m not seen.”

“I just want to make sure that they feel seen.”

https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2022/10/11/1102436118/on-dementia-tiktok-family-caregivers-find-support-and-bring-the-disease-to-light

Black Farmer’s Antibiotic-Free Meat Products Now Available in Grocery Stores and Online

Meet Ricky Dollison, a fourth-generation African American farmer who is the owner of Dollison Farms located in Poulan, Georgia. He is also the owner of a company called Warrior Creek Premium Meats that produces responsibly raised, antibiotic-free bacon, sausage, ground beef, ribeye steaks, pork tenderloins, and chicken leg quarters. The family-owned and operated business also produces a multitude of leafy greens, peanuts, cotton, soybeans, and corn for their livestock. They also raise cattle and their signature swine, “The Georgia Dolli”, in which their premium sausage, country cut bacon, and ham are derived.

Their high-quality meats are Georgia born and raised, without added hormones, by-products, nitrates, or antibiotics. Warrior Creek Premium Meats can be found at various grocery stores throughout Southwest Georgia such as Towson Meats, Snipes, Publix, and Piggly Wiggly.

Small farmers have always been the major food producers of the world, even before COVID-19. Now during a pandemic with scarce equipment and limited financial resources, creating value-added products and extending harvest offerings directly to customers is imperative for their survival beyond the next generation.

This Black-owned family farm operation is on the list of very few who are certified and able to sell nationwide. Dollison is also the CEO of AG First Community Co-op and a farmer advocate for the state of Georgia. He recognizes that bringing his company’s premium meats and their vegetable harvest directly to market is necessary for their survival.

Warrior Creek Premium Meats ship nationwide directly from the farm to your freezer. Monthly subscriptions are also available.

For more details and/or to place an order, visit WarriorCreekPremiumMeats.com

For press inquiries, contact (404) 484-6784 or warriorcreekpremiummeats@gmail.com

https://www.blackbusiness.com/2021/01/4th-generation-black-farmers-antibiotic-free-meat-products-available-grocery-stores.html

‘I just wanna surf’

Black women and nonbinary surfers are rarely in the spotlight. This photographer changes that

Photographs by Gabriella Angotti-Jones
Story by Leah Asmelash, CNN
Published October 7, 2022

Gabriella Angotti-Jones just wanted to surf.

It was the beginning of 2019. Fresh off an internship with the New York Times, photographer Angotti-Jones was stuck freelancing — constantly worrying about when her next assignment would come.

“I felt like I was stuck in a hamster wheel,” she told CNN. “I just felt like this working machine.”

So she turned inward. With the intention of pursuing a personal project, the Capistrano Beach, California, native’s mind went to one thing: surfing.

“Like f**k — I just wanna have fun,” Angotti-Jones said. “And I just wanna surf.”

That’s the title of Angotti-Jones’ new book of photography — “I Just Wanna Surf” — available now for preorder. Centered on Black women and nonbinary surfers, its pages are filled with lush images of the sea and the people who ride its waves, with locations ranging from California to Costa Rica. But it’s also a personal heirloom, chronicling Angotti-Jones’ own journey with surfing and depression.

The project, after all, became a homecoming for Angotti-Jones. She left New York for California for a month, connecting with a group called Black Girls Surf. Armed with cheap disposable cameras, she started snapping photos of other Black women and nonbinary folks on the water. At the time, she didn’t know where it was all going. She was just having fun.

The photos in the book reflect that feeling. Surrounded by water and sand, the joy of the surfers and their community is tangible. Their grins beckon the reader closer; their body language calls on us to jump in, too.

Angotti-Jones’ work is reminiscent of surfing photography from the 1950s — fuzzy photos of people hanging out on the beach and in the water, surfboards in tow. And it’s a direct contrast to what many may picture when envisioning more commercialized surf media, showing people riding 8- to 9-foot waves and making cutbacks.

“That’s not relatable,” Angotti-Jones said. “What’s relatable is the vibes.

But surfing and surf culture aren’t always about chill beach vibes. There can also be an intense culture of surf localism, the territorial idea that waves exist only for the locals of the area. It’s a mindset that can turn aggressive toward surfers deemed outsiders. Last year, for example, two Black surfers said they were called racist and homophobic slurs by an older White surfer while at Manhattan Beach, in an incident that quickly went viral through the local surfing community.

Angotti-Jones’ work stands in defiance to those localist ideas — highlighting instead the profound community surfing can create, particularly among Black surfers.

“I just wanted to show Black women and nonbinary people, and Black people in general, in the same context as what surfing is,” she said. “I thought that was a super powerful storytelling tool, to just be like, ‘Yeah, we’re here. We’re surfing.’”

It’s not a common sight. In the book, Angotti-Jones reveals she didn’t meet another Black surfer until January 2019.

One photo in particular stands out. Angotti-Jones captured Kimiko Russell-Halterman during 2021’s Black Sand Peace Paddle — a paddle-out at Manhattan Beach meant to raise awareness and create space for Black surfers following the incident of racial harassment.

And yet Russell-Halterman is captured in the midst of a gleeful scream, having gone out on her new longboard and popping up over a wave.

“When I look at Kimi, I just see the ocean’s joy, and I see what’s possible when you let the ocean ground you,” Angotti-Jones said.

But there are quieter moments, too. Moments spent waxing a board alone, or rubbing white-sheened sunscreen into dark skin.

In one image, a young Black girl is seen in her swimsuit in the foreground, walking ahead of a group of young White girls holding their surfboards. Though both are walking in the same direction, seemingly for the same thing, there’s a separation between the two.

All the girls were there for the same event, hosted by SurfearNegra, which aims to diversify the sport by making surfing more accessible to kids of color, and Sisters of the Sea, a group focused on introducing young women to surfing. Though the kids got along well, Angotti-Jones noticed there were still times when some of the Black surfers with less experience would separate from the White surfers, some of whom were already attending surfing competitions.

It was a feeling she recognized.

“I felt like I was reliving what I went through, which was not feeling like I was a part of it even though I was a part of it,” she said.

The book, on its surface, is about surfing. But it was also a vessel — a way for Angotti-Jones to process some of her own traumas and unearth the root causes of her depression. Her mental illness made her put up walls, she said; the Black people pictured radiate an openness she never let herself experience.

That’s what she wants her readers to remember — the Black surfer story is not defined by racism and conflict, but by love and friendship. We are not the bad things that happen to us. We are the joy and community we choose instead.

https://www.cnn.com/interactive/2022/10/us/black-women-nonbinary-surfers-cec-cnnphotos/?iid=cnn-mobile-app&fbclid=IwAR15vksmvdNQ5JjNDntmR0kUsbqXvQqybhiNIEwNgCuoasICh6RmvTGnlQs

Founder of Black-Owned Food Service Business Wins $17M Contract With Boston Public Schools

Sheldon Lloyd, founder and CEO of City Fresh Foods, a Roxbury, Massachusetts-based Black-owned food service business, has landed a deal with Boston Public Schools to provide food to its thousands of students. The $17 million contract is reportedly the largest non-construction contract the city has awarded to a Black-owned business. The food service contract comes after a committee consisting of both BPS and city staff unanimously decided to choose City Fresh Foods due to its operational strength, commitment to reducing the use of processed foods, as well as dedication to the community.

City Fresh Foods will provide breakfast, lunch, afternoon meals, snacks, and summer meals to nearly 50,000 students in the city’s schools. The meals will be made fresh in their production facility using nutritious ingredients that are mostly locally sourced.

“Transformative change for BPS starts with the everyday experiences of our students, and this new contract ensures every child will have access to nutritious foods to energize and nourish them through the day,” Boston Mayor Michelle Wu said in a statement, according to Boston 25 News. “We’re proud to partner with a local, Roxbury-based, Black-owned business to deliver for our young people.”

City Fresh Foods will collaborate with BPS to ensure that the students receive high-quality and nutrient-rich meals. A dietician will be a part of the team to analyze the nutritional value of all meals and also monitor student participation and minimize food waste.

“Many of our employees, including me, have children in Boston Public Schools and we are deeply committed to further supporting our communities where we work, learn and live to simultaneously provide quality meals and support our local economy. We are grateful to the Wu Administration and Boston Public Schools for their partnership and look forward to getting started this summer,” said Sheldon Lloyd, Co-founder and CEO of City Fresh Foods.

For more information about City Fresh Foods, visit CityFresh.com

https://www.blackbusiness.com/2022/05/sheldon-lloyd-founder-city-fresh-foods-black-owned-business-food-service-contract-boston-public-schools.html

At the intersection of social justice, political empowerment, human development and the cultural arts one will find LaTosha Brown. As a catalyst for change, thought leader and social strategist, her national and global efforts have been known to organize, inspire and catapult people into action—not just lip service—enabling them to build power and wealth for themselves and their community. Honored to receive the 2010 White House Champion of Change Award, the 2006 Spirit of Democracy Award and the Louis Burnham Award for Human Rights, it is more than evident that LaTosha is passionate about leading social change for the purpose of advancing humanity, creating a more equitable redistribution of wealth and power around the globe.

Where other leaders see nothing but poverty, despair and destitution, this 2018 Bridge Jubilee Award and Liberty Bell Award recipient sees great opportunity. To her, there is more than enough resources on the planet to comfortably sustain every human being. Affectionately known by many as a “Black Renaissance” woman, her southern roots, coupled with her global thoughts toward people, ideas and money, have opened doors for her to maximize her voice in the U.S., as well as over 30 countries abroad. In addition to being recognized as a well-respected leader in the South who has led numerous initiatives, campaigns and special projects to empower marginalized communities, LaTosha is leading several international efforts to provide training, support and funding for women-led institutions based in Guyana, Senegal, Belize and Tanzania.

Having raised millions of dollars for a variety of causes throughout the U.S., she is most known for her philanthropic efforts as an effective fundraiser and resource person. From creating community-led funds to establishing donor networks, LaTosha has raised millions of dollars to support social justice causes and created projects that bring more investments into marginalized communities.

As the co-founder of the Black Voters Matter Fund and the BVM Capacity Building Institute, LaTosha is adamant about ensuring that all human beings have access to quality education, safety, security, peace, love and happiness. Striving daily to hear the voices of women in leadership amplified and supported, she is also working to eliminate human suffering through her vision of the Southern Black Girls & Women’s Consortium. Recognizing that her work is not rooted in strengthening political systems, governments or institutions—but in the advancement of people—LaTosha serves as an authoritative figure in the lives of thousands, if not millions. More than ever, she’s crystal clear that she is called to remind people of the power they hold within, pushing them through the birthing process of vision to manifestation.

Transforming culture through her singing and songwriting, this innovative storyteller is shifting the narrative of African-Americans through media, campaigns and nonprofit projects. Featured on CNN, HBO, MSNBC and Fox, to name a few, Latosha also proudly serves as the founder of Saving OurSelves Coalition, a community-led disaster relief organization that helped hundreds of families in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Currently, she serves on the board of the National Coalition on Black Civic Participation, the Southern Documentary Fund, the U.S. Human Rights Network and the Congressional Progressive Caucus Center. After having worked with her, clients, colleagues and friends alike gain more clarity about their vision and life’s work, connection to quality resources, and a deeper sense of their own humanity after having encountered the incomparable LaTosha Brown.

http://www.mslatoshabrown.com/about/

Parity Homes

Bree is the founder of Parity, an equitable development company that rehabilitates abandoned properties by the block to create affordable homeownership opportunities. At the core of her work is development without displacement – she aims to revitalize distressed neighborhoods while ensuring that legacy residents are able to participate in and benefit from reinvestment.

Prior to founding Parity, Bree had a career in finance and investments where she was an analyst at Morgan Stanley, a vice president at Point72 Asset Management, and an investment associate at venture capital firm Anthemis Group. These roles included deal structuring, capital raises, conducting due diligence, advanced data analysis, and deal management. 

Bree has been a lifelong social justice advocate, focused primarily on economic justice, affordable housing, anti-displacement, anti-gentrification, and anti-recidivism. As an advocate, Bree played a pivotal role in the creation of Community Benefits Agreements in her hometown, and advocated for community protections in local legislation and zoning.

Bree Jones

At Freedom House, these Black men saved lives. Paramedics are book topic

PITTSBURGH, Pa. — John Moon stands on the 2000 block of Centre Avenue in Pittsburgh’s Hill District. He’s in front of a building that houses the Hill District Federal Credit Union, but he points to a plaque affixed to the stone façade commemorating the Freedom House ambulance service, widely acknowledged as the first paramedic program in the United States.

A half-century ago, Moon was a Freedom House paramedic, and he remains fiercely proud of it: The service, staffed overwhelmingly by Black men from the neighborhood, revolutionized emergency street medicine on the same blocks where many were underemployed, or even believed to be “unemployable.”

“We were considered the least likely to succeed by society’s standards,” said Moon, who was 22 and a hospital orderly when he started training to join Freedom House. “But one problem I noticed is, no one told us that!”

Today, however, Moon worries that Freedom House is in danger of being forgotten – a victim not just of time, but of the deliberate erasure of its memory.

“Unfortunately, today there are probably people who live here that has never heard of Freedom House ambulance service,” he said.

A new book could help.

Their story is committed to the page

“American Sirens” (Hachette Books), by Kevin Hazzard, tells the story of Freedom House, which operated from 1967-75, its historic accomplishments, and its unjust and untimely demise.

Moon, himself, plays a central role. He spent much of his childhood in an Atlanta orphanage before relatives living in the Hill adopted him. As an orderly at Oakland’s Montefiore Hospital, he was astonished one night when two Black men entered with a patient on a stretcher, giving orders and clearly in command – a nearly unimaginable thing in those days. Moon learned they were from Freedom House, and he vowed to follow in their footsteps.

Hazzard sketches other key characters. One is Peter Safar, the storied Viennese-born anesthesiologist and Holocaust survivor who invented cardiopulmonary resuscitation, or CPR, in the 1950s, while working in Baltimore. Safar was also interested in emergency street medicine at a time when ambulances were driven by police, volunteer firefighters or even mortuary workers with little to no medical training. For victims of car crashes, heart attacks and gunshots, there was no on-site treatment, only an imperative to get them to the hospital as quickly as possible. Mortality rates were high. In the 1960s, working at Pittsburgh’s Presbyterian Hospital, Safar developed a plan to do emergency street medicine, but he had no means to implement it.

Enter Philip Hallen, a former ambulance driver who was now president of the Maurice Falk Medical Fund, a local foundation. Hallen also saw the need for street medicine, especially in the Hill, which was medically underserved. He reached out to James McCoy Jr., a Hill-based entrepreneur who ran a job-training program called Freedom House Enterprises. After connecting with Safar, the men took the unusual step of recruiting their first class of “paramedics” – a job that, technically, did not yet exist – from the Hill itself.

“So, what you end up with was, you know, a number of guys maybe who were fresh back from Vietnam. A number of guys maybe who were fresh out of prison. A number of guys who were in-between jobs, because literally they’re picking people up who they see kind of wandering the streets,” said Hazzard, an Atlanta-based writer and former paramedic.

The rigorous training paid off, Hazzard writes: Serving just the Hill and Oakland at first, Freedom House saved lives that would have been lost before. Tour the Hill today with Moon, for instance, and stops will include the site of his first call for a heroin overdose, as well as the story of how he became, he believes, the first paramedic to intubate a patient in the field. The latter story involves another key figure in the book, Nancy Caroline, a doctor who in later years was Freedom House’s medical director.

Doctors speak of Freedom House’s success

“They were the first true paramedic program in the world,” said Ronald Stewart, a Canadian expert in emergency medicine who was medical director for Pittsburgh’s Public Safety department in the 1970s and ’80s.

“It just amazes me, the quality of the program they were able to develop,” said Jon Krohmer, a Michigan-based expert in emergency medicine and a board member of the National EMS Museum.

One intangible impact of Freedom House was the community pride it generated: Highly trained technicians – dozens of them, over the years — were saving lives in their own neighborhood, which was often ignored by the rest of the city.

“Often times, when a person would call for assistance, they would say, ‘Don’t send the police, send Freedom House,’ ” said Moon.

The flip side: Hazzard recounts that some white patients refused treatment by Freedom House, even though their lives might have been at stake.

Freedom House operated under a city contract – meaning that for years, the Hill had better emergency care than the rest of the city, where ambulances were still driven by police. But, in fact, emergency medicine was in the midst of a revolution sparked in part by “Accidental Death and Disability: The Neglected Disease of Modern Society,” a 1966 report by the National Academies of Sciences/National Research Council. In this atmosphere, Freedom House’s influence spread nationally, too. Under a contract from the U.S. Department of Transportation, Freedom House director Dr. Caroline wrote the first national curricula on emergency street medicine.

Saving lives gets in the way

But despite such successes, in “American Sirens,” Hazzard writes, a new Pittsburgh mayor, Pete Flaherty, began to withhold support from Freedom House. At least one issue was racism: The overwhelmingly white police force saw the work of the overwhelmingly Black paramedics as an incursion onto their turf.

“There are many within Freedom House who eventually came to the conclusion that, you know, the problems that we’re having with City Hall are not what we’re doing, but rather who’s doing it,” said Hazzard.

Funding cuts were followed, in 1975, by the absorption of Freedom House into a new citywide EMS department. Many Freedom House paramedics stayed on, but most say they were treated poorly, their years of experience discounted. John Moon recalls being forced to “ride as the third person on a two-person crew.”

“I endured a concerted effort to eliminate as many, if not all, of Freedom House employees as humanly possible, and it was very, very successful,” he said.

But Moon himself persisted: In 2009, he retired as assistant chief of the department. These days, he is one of the main advocates for keeping the memory of Freedom House alive.

Savoring their memory

Public remembrances include the plaque on Centre Avenue (which was the headquarters of Jim McCoy’s Freedom House Enterprises), and another on the site of UPMC Presbyterian, where the Freedom House ambulance service actually operated (though the original building is gone). Heinz History Center also houses a Freedom House display as part of its permanent exhibit “Pittsburgh: A Tradition of Innovation.”

Moon hopes “American Sirens” helps spread the word. But in any case, Freedom House lives on in his heart.

“I owe Freedom House a debt that I don’t think I will ever be able to repay,” he said, “because they’re the ones that instilled that motivation and that drive into me that I could do something no matter what it is, no matter what the hurdle, no matter what the barrier.”

https://www.npr.org/2022/09/27/1124161896/at-freedom-house-these-black-men-saved-lives-paramedics-are-book-topic

It wasn’t until September 2021 that Sesame Street — which started in November 1969 — got its first full-time Black female puppeteer. That’s when Megan Piphus Peace joined the cast full time and landed the role of Gabrielle, a 6-year-old puppet on the classic children’s show.

This month, as she marks one year working with Sesame Street, she’s decided to dedicate her career to entertainment.

“I’m so glad I had the opportunity to be on Sesame Street and encourage other kids to dream as big as their imaginations will allow,” the 29-year-old tells NPR’s Weekend Edition.”I always dreamed of working in television, but I never imagined myself being at Sesame Street.”

A passion for puppetry

Her interest in puppetry and performing started when she was a child.

Piphus Peace says a woman at her church invited her to a puppetry conference where she first learned about the art. She saw female ventriloquists who would sing and tell stories with their characters.

She went home and told her parents she wanted to learn ventriloquism.

“I had never seen a ventriloquist before. And at the time, I didn’t realize that Shari Lewis, one of my idols … was a ventriloquist until I was much older because she was so good,” Piphus Peace says.

Lewis, the original puppeteer of Lamb Chop, performed puppetry and ventriloquism on television for decades, most notably on The Shari Lewis Show and the PBS program Lamb Chop’s Play-Along. Piphus Peace grew up watching her work.

“Lamb Chop was my friend and Shari was just her friend too,” she laughs.

Piphus Peace watched tapes, got her own puppet and started entertaining her classmates.

“I realized I found my passion in making children laugh and smile through puppetry.”

Becoming the show’s first Black female puppeteer

Her journey to Sesame Street was preceded by Kevin Clash, a Black male puppeteer who started with the show in the 1980s. It wasn’t until 2021 that a Black female puppeteer would do the same.

“It’s a matter of representation,” Piphus Peace says. “It’s not very often that you see women puppeteers in general and also Black women puppeteers. I can probably count on one hand the number that there are.”

She first performed with Sesame Street in 2020 as part of a special with CNN. Then after a year of training in what she calls Muppet-style puppetry, she formally joined the cast in 2021.

Piphus Peace says she hopes that by being the first Black female puppeteer on the show,more doors will open for women and people of color.

She notes that the show has had Black women in other production positions “who have been woven into the fabric of Sesame Street over the years.” That has inspired her to become a producer one day.

Discussing race on Sesame Street

Piphus Peace praises the show’s team of writers and producers, saying they take the hardest topics and frame them in a way that children can understand.

“One of the lessons that we have was on using your voice. It speaks subtly to equity,” she says. “You know, we didn’t have Gabrielle go into the camera and say, ‘Black Lives Matter.’ She says that we all have a voice that matters and we can use our voice.”

Piphus Peace hopes to bring an unwavering sense of confidence and love of self to her character.

“I want her confidence to just shine through the screen so that little girls and boys around the world are filled with confidence in themselves.”

https://www.npr.org/2022/09/25/1124974188/sesame-street-first-black-female-puppeteer-megan-piphus-peace

Revisiting San Juan Hill, the neighborhood destroyed to make way for Lincoln Center

Think back to the opening of the 2021 film version of the musical West Side Story. The very first thing we see is acres of rubble, and a sign: “This property purchased by the New York Housing Authority for slum clearance.”

That’s an allusion to a real neighborhood that was destroyed to make way for Lincoln Center. In the 1950s, San Juan Hill was mostly a community of Black and Puerto Rican residents. Their story — and even the name of their neighborhood — has been mostly scrubbed from history. Now, a new piece of music being premiered by the New York Philharmonic aims to acknowledge that past.

Long before Lincoln Center existed, San Juan Hill was a nexus for African American and Caribbean culture. It nurtured many jazz greats, who lived and played there — including alto saxophonist Benny Carter, who grew up in the neighborhood, and pianist Herbie Nichols, who was born there to parents from St. Kitts and Trinidad. Duke Ellington and cornet player Rex Stewart even co-wrote a tune named in tribute to this community, where dance halls and jazz clubs thrived.

But in the 1950s, the powerful urban planner Robert Moses led the effort to have San Juan Hill razed, with the intention of establishing a midtown campus for Fordham University and creating Lincoln Center. He displaced more than 7,000 families as well as some 800 businesses. In a 1977 interview with New York’s public television station, WNET, Moses defended destroying San Juan Hill.

When the interviewer asked about San Juan Hill, Moses retorted: “Now I ask you, what was that neighborhood? It was a Puerto Rican slum. You remember it?” No, the host admitted.

“Yeah, well, I lived on one of those streets there for a number of years, and I know exactly what it was like,” Moses responded. (There is no record of Moses residing in this neighborhood, according to Robert Caro’s magisterial biography of Moses, The Power Broker.)

“It was the worst slum in New York,” Moses insisted in the television interview. “You want to leave it there? Why? Out of account of neighborhood business? Christ, you never could have been there. That was the worst slum in New York,” he bellowed, clapping his hands for emphasis. “And we cleared it out.”

Professor Yarimar Bonilla is the director of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies at Hunter College. She says Robert Moses intentionally used highly charged language about San Juan Hill.

“Robert Moses in particular,” Bonilla says, “He used a lot of kind of medical language talking about the slums as these cancers that had to be eradicated and cleaned up, almost as if it was a disease that could spread.”

60 years after Lincoln Center’s opening and a $550 million renovation later, the New York Philharmonic’s home at Lincoln Center, David Geffen Hall, is reopening this weekend. Lincoln Center is taking this opportunity to readdress the narrative of its founding.

It invited Etienne Charles — a composer, trumpet player, percussionist and Guggenheim fellow — to think deeply about that complicated past, and create a piece of music that would acknowledge that hidden history. So Etienne Charles created a new work for the Philharmonic and his band, Creole Soul called San Juan Hill: A New York Story.

Charles is originally from Trinidad. He had never heard of San Juan Hill until he moved to New York to study for a master’s degree at Juilliard, which is part of the Lincoln Center campus.

Charles eventually realized, however, that the razed neighborhood had significant Caribbean connections — and to jazz. Initially, Charles learned that pianist Herbie Nichols (whose roots were also in Trinidad) was from San Juan Hill. Not long after, the Jamaican pianist Monty Alexander told Charles that composer and pianist Thelonious Monk had also grown up in San Juan Hill.

“Monty Alexander came to my house,” Charles recounts, “And we were working on some music for his concert. He started playing Monk’s music and he’s like, ‘You realize Monk’s music has a Caribbean bounce, right?’ And I said, ‘I never thought about it.’ He started playing Green Chimneys — ‘Boom, boom, boom, boom, ba-doo-boo, boom, boom, boom, boom, ba doo,'” Charles says, enunciating the Monk tune’s rhythm. “Monk heard Caribbean music in San Jan Hill all around him.”

Charles notes that once Lincoln Center opened in 1962, even its physical campus felt literally exclusive to some. The institution’s general shape, he says, is of the letter C, with a large plaza and impressive fountain facing Broadway. “And the C has its back to the neighborhood,” he adds — an area that includes the Amsterdam Houses, a public housing project immediately behind Lincoln Center. “You can make huge statements with architecture,” the musician observes. “It’s body language with bricks.”

Charles recalls an interview that he and one of his San Juan Hill collaborators, photographer Hollis King, did for this project. “Hollis asked somebody who still lives in the neighborhood, ‘What was your most memorable musical event in the neighborhood?'”

“And he said,” Charles continues, “My most memorable musical event was when Tito Puente played.’ And then he added, ‘But it wasn’t in the neighborhood. It was at Lincoln Center.'” Charles pauses to let that exchange sink in. “There’s sometimes that moment when somebody tells you what you see.”

Charles’ meditation on San Juan Hill will be the very first piece of music to be heard in the newly renovated David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center. It’s also the first time that Lincoln Center has ever commissioned music for the New York Philharmonic. Charles worked with a number of creative multi-discipline collaborators to make San Juan Hill come alive.

Shanta Thake is the chief artistic officer at Lincoln Center. She says commissioning Charles to write such a piece was a crucial moment of reckoning for the institution.

“What an example, what a moment that would be, to open David Geffen Hall with this commission, with this story, and really confront our past head-on as we move into the future,” Thake says. “Not kind of blank slate everything, but really make things more complicated for ourselves — and I think in a way actually allow us to make space for what’s next.”

Thake continues, “I think the cultural sector has even more of a responsibility to hold our histories and not to plaster over them. It matters whose stories we have historically told. It certainly matters that we tell our own story fully, and with all the complexity and the mistakes that we made. That’s okay.”

In his musical portrait of San Juan Hill, Etienne Charles wanted to move through many dimensions — chronological, stylistic, and demographic, from Gullah Geechee shipyard workers to recently arrived European communities, as well as historical moments and figures in the neighborhood.

“This piece is about showing the magic of the culture that was created when these people came together here,” Charles says. “Gullah dance here, paseo rhythm there, Antillean waltz here, Sicilian folk chant there, Irish drunk song there — all of these different pieces together mixed up, the blues from the South. It created a vibe that fed not just American culture, but influenced everything that would happen and come out of New York for the next 50 years.”

Charles’ piece references lots of music made and heard in the neighborhood — including the Charleston dance. Although it’s named after the South Carolina city, it was actually born right in San Juan Hill, thanks to composer and pianist James P. Johnson, who had grown up partly in the neighborhood and later frequently played at one of its clubs.

“Then from the Charleston, we get to the serious part,” Charles explains, “Which is urban removal, with the 10 years from 1949 to 1959 when it went from the Housing Act to the groundbreaking of Lincoln Center. And then the last part is a piece called House Rent Party, where was you know, we could all come together.”

Tickets for this world premiere are priced as pay-what-you-want, starting at $5 per seat, with some free tickets available the day of the performance — another way of making Lincoln Center a truly welcoming space for all New Yorkers.

San Juan Hill: A New York Story has its world premiere this Saturday.

https://www.npr.org/2022/10/07/1126189129/san-juan-hill-lincoln-center

Carla Diane Hayden (born August 10, 1952)^[1][2] is an American librarian and the 14th Librarian of Congress.^[3][4] Since the creation of the office of the Librarian of Congress in 1802, Hayden is both the first African American and the first woman to hold this post.^[5][6][7][8] Appointed in 2016, she is the first professional librarian to hold the post since 1974.^[9]

Born in Tallahassee, Florida, Hayden began her career at the Chicago Public Library, and earned a doctorate in library science from the University of Chicago. From 1993 until 2016, she was the CEO of Enoch Pratt Free Library in Baltimore, Maryland, and president of the American Library Association (ALA) from 2003 to 2004.^[10][11][12] During her presidency, she was the leading voice of the ALA in speaking out against provisions of the newly passed United States Patriot Act, which impacted public information services.^[13][14]

In 2020, she was elected to the American Philosophical Society.^[15]

Early life

Hayden was born in Tallahassee, Florida, to Bruce Kennard Hayden Jr., at that time director of the String Department at Florida A&M University in Tallahassee, and Colleen Hayden (née Dowling), a social worker.^[2][16] Her parents met while attending Millikin University in Decatur, Illinois.^[2] Hayden grew up in Queens, New York. When she was 10 years old, her parents divorced and she moved with her mother to Chicago, Illinois.^[2][17] She had a younger half-brother from her father’s second marriage, Bruce Kennard Hayden, III, who died in 1992.^[18]

Hayden’s mother’s side of the family comes from Helena, Arkansas. Her father’s maternal side of the family, who eventually settled in Du Quoin, Illinois, had been enslaved, which is chronicled in the book, It’s Good to Be Black, by Ruby Berkley Goodwin.^[2][19]

Hayden said that her passion for reading was inspired by Marguerite de Angeli’s Bright April, the 1946 book about a young African-American girl who was in the Brownies. At Chicago’s South Shore High School, Hayden became interested in books on British history and “cozy mysteries”.^[20] She attended MacMurray College in Jacksonville, Illinois, and then transferred to Roosevelt University.^[2]

While she loved libraries she didn’t consider it as a career until after she had graduated from Roosevelt University with majors in political science and African history in 1973. Hayden received her master’s degree in Library Science in 1977, and a doctorate degree in Library Science in 1987,^[21] both from the University of Chicago Graduate Library School.^[22]

Career

Hayden began her library career at the Chicago Public Library telling stories to children with autism.^[8] From 1973 to 1979, she worked as an Associate/Children’s Librarian at the Whitney Young branch. From 1979 to 1982, she served as the Young Adult Services Coordinator. From 1982 to 1987, Hayden worked as a Library Services Coordinator at Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry.^[23]

Hayden moved to Pittsburgh, where she was an associate professor, teaching at the University of Pittsburgh School of Information Sciences from 1987 to 1991.^[23] At the time, well known African-American librarians, E. J. Josey and Spencer Shaw, were on the faculty there.^[2]

Hayden then moved back to Chicago and became Deputy Commissioner and Chief Librarian of the Chicago Public Library, posts she held from 1991 to 1993.^[23] During her time working at the Chicago Public Library, Hayden became acquainted with Michelle Obama and Barack Obama.^[24]

From 1993 to 2016, Hayden was Executive Director of Baltimore’s Enoch Pratt Free Library.^[23]

Enoch Pratt Free Library

On July 1, 1993, Hayden began the appointed position of Director at Enoch Pratt Free Library, the public library system in Baltimore, Maryland.^[25]

During her tenure, Hayden oversaw a library co-operative with 22 locations, hundreds of employees, and an annual budget of $40 million. She also oversaw the first new branch opening in 35 years along with the renovation of the co-operative’s central branch, at a cost of $112 million. During the 2015 protests of the death of Freddie Gray, Hayden kept Baltimore’s libraries open, an act for which she received extensive praise.^[26] When asked about the incident in a 2016 Time magazine interview she stated that the library became a command center of sorts as many stores in the community closed, and that “we knew that [people] would look for that place of refuge and relief and opportunity.”^[27] She left this position on August 11, 2016, when she was appointed to the Library of Congress.^[18]

ALA presidency

As president of the American Library Association (ALA) from 2003 to 2004, Hayden chose the theme “Equity of Access”.^{[28][29][30][31]}

In her role as ALA President, Hayden was vocal in her public opposition to the Patriot Act, leading a battle for the protections of library users’ privacy.^[2][32] She especially objected to the special permissions contained in Section 215 of that law, which gave the Justice Department and the FBI the power to access library user records. Hayden often sparred publicly with then-U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft over the language of the law.^[33] Ashcroft often ridiculed the library community, and stated that the ALA had been “misled into opposing provisions of the act that make it easier for FBI agents to fish through library records”.^[34] Hayden’s response was immediate, stating that the ALA was “deeply concerned that the Attorney General would be so openly contemptuous” (to the library community), while also pointing out that librarians had been monitored and been under FBI surveillance as far back as the McCarthy Era. Hayden asserted that Ashcroft should release information as to the number of libraries that had been visited under the provisions of Section 215.^[35] She has stated that the concern stemmed from making sure that a balance existed “between security and personal freedoms.”^[27]

As a result of her stand for the rights of every American, she became Ms. magazine’s 2003 Woman of the Year. In her interview with the magazine, she stated:

Libraries are a cornerstone of democracy—where information is free and equally available to everyone. People tend to take that for granted, and they don’t realize what is at stake when that is put at risk.^[36]

Hayden says, “[Librarians] are activists, engaged in the social work aspect of librarianship. Now we are fighters for freedom”.^[36]

Along with her objections of the Patriot Act, Hayden has done much in her career in outreach programs. As ALA President she wrote:

At a time when our public is challenged on multiple fronts, we need to recommit ourselves to the ideal of providing equal access to everyone, anywhere, anytime, and in any format … By finally embracing equity of access we will be affirming our core values, recognizing realities, and assuring our future.^[28][37]

One program she is notable for is for the outreach program she began at the Enoch Pratt Free Library. This outreach program included “an after school center for Baltimore teens offering homework assistance and college and career counseling.” Because of this, Hayden received Library Journal‘s Librarian of the Year Award.^[38]

In January 2010, President Barack Obama announced his intent to nominate Hayden as a member of the National Museum and Library Services Board and National Foundation on the Arts and the Humanities.^[39]

14th Librarian of Congress

On February 24, 2016, President Barack Obama nominated Hayden to serve as the next Librarian of Congress.^[24] In a press release from the White House, President Obama stated:

Michelle and I have known Carla Hayden for a long time, since her days working at the Chicago Public Library, and I am proud to nominate her to lead our nation’s oldest federal institution as our 14th Librarian of Congress. Hayden has devoted her career to modernizing libraries so that everyone can participate in today’s digital culture. She has the proven experience, dedication, and deep knowledge of our nation’s libraries to serve our country well and that’s why I look forward to working with her in the months ahead. If confirmed, Hayden would be the first woman and the first African American to hold the position – both of which are long overdue.^[24]

After her nomination, more than 140 library, publishing, educational, and academic organizations signed a letter of support. The letter said in part that Congress had “an opportunity to equip the Library and the nation with the unique combination of professional skills and sensibilities that Dr. Hayden will bring to the post.”^[42]

The nomination was received by the U.S. Senate and referred to the Committee on Rules and Administration.^[43][44] On April 20, 2016, the Committee on Rules and Administration, chaired by Senator Roy Blunt with Charles E. Schumer as ranking member, held the confirmation hearing.^[41][45][46] Hayden opposed the 2000 Children’s Internet Protection Act (CIPA), which was a sticking point in her nomination to become Librarian of Congress.^[3][47]

On July 13, 2016, she was confirmed as Librarian of Congress by a 74–18 vote in the United States Senate.^[26] Hayden was sworn in by Chief Justice of the United States John Roberts on September 14, 2016.^[48][49] Even though more than eighty percent of American librarians are women, for over two hundred years the position of Librarian of Congress was filled exclusively by white men,^[50] making Hayden the first woman and the first African American to hold the position. Notably, she is also a librarian by profession. Many past Librarians of Congress have been scholars and historians.^[51]

As Librarian of Congress, Hayden says she hopes to continue “the movement to open the treasure chest that is the Library of Congress.”^[52] Hayden said much of her early effort will focus on building and retaining staff.^[53] In the next five years, Hayden will also focus on making sure that at least half of the library’s 162 million items are digitized, especially rare collections.^[20] Hayden hopes for the library to have live performances and broadcasts and have traveling exhibits tour America that tie in with educational programming for schoolkids.^[54]

Hayden aspires to modernize the institution during her tenure by both preserving the collection and modernizing access to it, as she will be the first Librarian of Congress appointed “since the advent of the internet.” In a press release by the ALA Washington Office, ALA President Julie Todaro said, “Hayden holds a profound understanding of the integral role libraries play in formal education, community-based learning, and the promotion of individual opportunity and community progress. I believe that through her visionary leadership the Library of Congress will soon mirror society’s rapidly changing information environment, while successfully preserving the cultural record of the United States.”^[9] She spoke of her desire to reach people outside of Washington, D.C., especially in rural areas and in accessible formats to people with visual disabilities. Another one of her main goals is to improve the infrastructure and “technological capacity” of the Library of Congress.^[23] She is undecided if the United States Copyright Office, which is overseen by the Library, should be independent of the Library, but believes the Office should be “fully functional” and be able carry to out its mandates to protect creators.^[41]

In January 2017, Hayden hosted 4-year old Daliyah Marie Arana as Librarian of Congress for the day.^[55]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carla_Hayden