latimes--2020-06-15--UC regents unanimously endorse restoring affirmative action

More than two decades after affirmative action was outlawed at public campuses , University of California regents on Monday unanimously supported the repeal of Proposition 209 , the 1996 state initiative that banned preferential treatment by government bodies based on race , ethnicity or sex — and has been blamed for a decline in diversity at UC ’ s most selective campuses .
With passionate remarks about the pernicious effects of racism , the regents endorsed Assembly Constitutional Amendment 5 , which would repeal Proposition 209 , clearing the way for affirmative action to once more be used in UC @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the state Assembly last week and , if ratified by the Senate by June 25 , will be on the Nov. 3 statewide ballot .
UC Board Chairman John A. Pérez declared that a “ colorblind ” model for society denies the reality of racism and quoted South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu ’ s admonition that to remain neutral amid injustice is to choose the side of the oppressor .
“ If we are going to be serious about creating a university that truly serves the public interest , we can not be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” Pérez said .
“ We must express ourselves in what we think [ is ] the best future for our university and our state.
” The board ’ s action represented a resounding repudiation of former regents , who voted in 1995 to make UC the first university system in the nation to ban affirmative action , a year before California voters did the same statewide for public education , government contracting and employment .
At the time , all but one of 18 appointed regents were selected by Republican governors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has nearly reversed itself today , with three-quarters of appointees chosen by Democrats .
“ The very body that made this decision and helped create this wrong is prepared to do whatever it takes to correct it , ” said Regent Laphonza Butler .
The regents ’ vote on affirmative action comes just three weeks after they unanimously voted to phase out the SAT and ACT testing requirements for admission due to concerns that they unfairly disadvantage students based on race , income and parental education levels .
Equity advocates said the two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ take bold action to increase equity and access to the nation ’ s top public research university system .
“ The regents recognized that they have been talking for years about diversifying their student body and now they ’ ve gotten serious about that , ” said Audrey Dow , senior vice president for the Campaign for College Opportunity .
But Crystal Lu , president of the Silicon Valley Chinese Assn .
Foundation , called the regents ’ actions disturbing .
“ This is a troubling trend where our public university in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to allow racial favoritism in college admissions , ” she said .
The regents ’ vote amplified the sweeping support within the UC system to restore affirmative action .
UC President Janet Napolitano , all 10 campus chancellors and the governing bodies for faculty , undergraduate and graduate students have expressed support for ACA 5 .
“ Despite nearly two decades of effort and experimentation with race-neutral admissions at UC , the University ’ s enrollment of students from underrepresented groups and recruitment of faculty of color falls short of reflecting the rich @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” according to a memo from Napolitano ’ s office .
The proportion of underrepresented groups — commonly defined as students who are Black , Latino , Pacific Islander or American Indian — dropped from 20 % in 1995 to 15 % in 1998 , the memo said .
Asian Americans and whites increased their share .
The UC system subsequently sought to restore diversity with race-neutral measures .
In 2001 , it began guaranteeing admission for all students who ranked in the top 4 % of their high school class , ensuring @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an equal shot at a UC education .
UC campuses also revised their admissions review process from one that heavily relied on grades and test scores to a comprehensive evaluation that considers 14 factors , looking at how students perform academically given the opportunities in their schools and neighborhoods .
In addition , UC campuses increased outreach to underserved communities .
UCLA , for instance , works with 20 Los Angeles Unified high schools and several Black churches in the Inland Empire to scout promising students and keep them on track .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ UCLA vice provost of enrollment management , has helped the campus increase the proportion of resident Black students admitted as freshmen from 3.7 % in 2012 to 6.3 % in 2019 .
The measures have produced some progress .
The share of admission offers to California freshmen who are Black increased from 4.3 % in fall 2010 to 4.7 % in 2019 , while the Latino share grew from 22.9 % to 34.3 % during the same period .
Asian Americans also increased from 33.9 % to 35.72 % while whites declined from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ way of comparison , the demographics of California high school graduates have changed during that time period .
Black students decreased their share from 6.65 % in 2010 to 5.3 % in 2019 , while Latinos increased from 42 % to 51.8 % , Asian Americans stayed roughly the same at about 14 % , and whites declined from 34.4 % to 24.7 % .
But UC has not kept pace with the growing diversity of students in California K-12 schools or the overall state population , the memo said .
In 2016 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ up 37 % of UC freshmen but 56 % of high school graduates .
UC campuses also have not hired proportional numbers of female faculty in several fields , such as life sciences , physical sciences and mathematics , compared with the number of women with doctorates in those areas .
The university has kept pace in engineering , computer science , education , arts and humanities , the board memo said .
Ahmad Mahmuod , a UC Berkeley incoming junior , said the constraints of Proposition 209 have hampered the ability to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and services — such as earmarked scholarships — at his campus .
He and a group of other Berkeley students took their concerns to Assemblywoman Shirley Weber ( D-San Diego ) , who has credited them for inspiring her to introduce ACA 5 .
“ We know when campuses are more diverse and reflect the community , everyone benefits , ” said Mahmuod , who is majoring in legal studies .
Reaction to ACA 5 is mixed among Asian Americans .
Polls show that the majority of Asian Americans support affirmative action , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the admission of students from some Southeast Asian subgroups and Pacific Islanders , according to Vincent Pan of Chinese for Affirmative Action .
Lu , however , said some Asian Americans are concerned they will be squeezed out of UC seats .
She said many of her foundation members are immigrants who came to the United States “ dirt poor ” and succeeded through education and hard work .
Allowing preferential treatment based on race , she said , will deny people the right to succeed through merit .
“ Our skin color @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she said .
Both Asian American regents , William Um and Lark Park , voted to support ACA 5 .
Park said that it was “ fantasy ” to assert that race and gender don ’ t matter .
“ We need to stop pretending that everyone has access to equal opportunity because they don ’ t , ” Park said .
The debate over ACA 5 revives a four-decade battle over affirmative action in the UC system .
In 1974 , a white student named Allan Bakke sued the UC system , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ led to his rejection by UC Davis medical school and violated his constitutional and civil rights .
In a landmark 1978 decision , the U.S. Supreme Court struck down racial quotas but upheld the use of race as one of several factors in college admissions policy .
Even if ACA 5 wins passage , the UC and California State University systems would still need to decide how affirmative action would be implemented in their admission and hiring processes .
In that event , Regent Sherry Lansing stressed , UC would not lower its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as one of many factors in admissions decisions .

Latino high school students march at UCLA in 2008 in support of increased enrollment for people of color at University of California campuses.
More than two decades after affirmative action was outlawed at public campuses, University of California regents on Monday unanimously supported the repeal of Proposition 209, the 1996 state initiative that banned preferential treatment by government bodies based on race, ethnicity or sex — and has been blamed for a decline in diversity at UC’s most selective campuses.
With passionate remarks about the pernicious effects of racism, the regents endorsed Assembly Constitutional Amendment 5, which would repeal Proposition 209, clearing the way for affirmative action to once more be used in UC admissions and hiring.
The measure passed the state Assembly last week and, if ratified by the Senate by June 25, will be on the Nov. 3 statewide ballot.
Advertisement
UC Board Chairman John A. Pérez declared that a “colorblind” model for society denies the reality of racism and quoted South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s admonition that to remain neutral amid injustice is to choose the side of the oppressor.
“If we are going to be serious about creating a university that truly serves the public interest, we cannot be silent. We cannot be neutral,” Pérez said. “We must express ourselves in what we think [is] the best future for our university and our state.”
The board’s action represented a resounding repudiation of former regents, who voted in 1995 to make UC the first university system in the nation to ban affirmative action, a year before California voters did the same statewide for public education, government contracting and employment. At the time, all but one of 18 appointed regents were selected by Republican governors. The board’s political makeup has nearly reversed itself today, with three-quarters of appointees chosen by Democrats.
“The very body that made this decision and helped create this wrong is prepared to do whatever it takes to correct it,” said Regent Laphonza Butler.
The regents’ vote on affirmative action comes just three weeks after they unanimously voted to phase out the SAT and ACT testing requirements for admission due to concerns that they unfairly disadvantage students based on race, income and parental education levels. Equity advocates said the two back-to-back votes demonstrate a new drive to take bold action to increase equity and access to the nation’s top public research university system.
Advertisement
“The regents recognized that they have been talking for years about diversifying their student body and now they’ve gotten serious about that,” said Audrey Dow, senior vice president for the Campaign for College Opportunity.
But Crystal Lu, president of the Silicon Valley Chinese Assn. Foundation, called the regents’ actions disturbing.
“This is a troubling trend where our public university in the state is taking backwards steps in history to allow racial favoritism in college admissions,” she said.
The regents’ vote amplified the sweeping support within the UC system to restore affirmative action. UC President Janet Napolitano, all 10 campus chancellors and the governing bodies for faculty, undergraduate and graduate students have expressed support for ACA 5.
“Despite nearly two decades of effort and experimentation with race-neutral admissions at UC, the University’s enrollment of students from underrepresented groups and recruitment of faculty of color falls short of reflecting the rich diversity of California’s population,” according to a memo from Napolitano’s office.
The proportion of underrepresented groups — commonly defined as students who are Black, Latino, Pacific Islander or American Indian — dropped from 20% in 1995 to 15% in 1998, the memo said. Asian Americans and whites increased their share.
The UC system subsequently sought to restore diversity with race-neutral measures. In 2001, it began guaranteeing admission for all students who ranked in the top 4% of their high school class, ensuring that those in all neighborhoods would have an equal shot at a UC education.
California Plan to restore affirmative action in California clears hurdle after emotional debate The plan would strike from California’s Constitution the rules imposed by Proposition 209, which prohibits government agencies and institutions from giving preferential treatment to individuals on the basis of race or sex
UC campuses also revised their admissions review process from one that heavily relied on grades and test scores to a comprehensive evaluation that considers 14 factors, looking at how students perform academically given the opportunities in their schools and neighborhoods.
In addition, UC campuses increased outreach to underserved communities. UCLA, for instance, works with 20 Los Angeles Unified high schools and several Black churches in the Inland Empire to scout promising students and keep them on track. The strategy, spearheaded by Youlonda Copeland-Morgan, UCLA vice provost of enrollment management, has helped the campus increase the proportion of resident Black students admitted as freshmen from 3.7% in 2012 to 6.3% in 2019.
The measures have produced some progress. The share of admission offers to California freshmen who are Black increased from 4.3% in fall 2010 to 4.7% in 2019, while the Latino share grew from 22.9% to 34.3% during the same period. Asian Americans also increased from 33.9% to 35.72% while whites declined from 32.4% to 21.9%.
By way of comparison, the demographics of California high school graduates have changed during that time period. Black students decreased their share from 6.65% in 2010 to 5.3% in 2019, while Latinos increased from 42% to 51.8%, Asian Americans stayed roughly the same at about 14%, and whites declined from 34.4% to 24.7%.
But UC has not kept pace with the growing diversity of students in California K-12 schools or the overall state population, the memo said. In 2016, for instance, underrepresented students made up 37% of UC freshmen but 56% of high school graduates.
UC campuses also have not hired proportional numbers of female faculty in several fields, such as life sciences, physical sciences and mathematics, compared with the number of women with doctorates in those areas. The university has kept pace in engineering, computer science, education, arts and humanities, the board memo said.
Ahmad Mahmuod, a UC Berkeley incoming junior, said the constraints of Proposition 209 have hampered the ability to press for more Black students, faculty and services — such as earmarked scholarships — at his campus. He and a group of other Berkeley students took their concerns to Assemblywoman Shirley Weber (D-San Diego), who has credited them for inspiring her to introduce ACA 5.
“We know when campuses are more diverse and reflect the community, everyone benefits,” said Mahmuod, who is majoring in legal studies.
Reaction to ACA 5 is mixed among Asian Americans. Polls show that the majority of Asian Americans support affirmative action, and the measure is likely to increase the admission of students from some Southeast Asian subgroups and Pacific Islanders, according to Vincent Pan of Chinese for Affirmative Action.
Lu, however, said some Asian Americans are concerned they will be squeezed out of UC seats. She said many of her foundation members are immigrants who came to the United States “dirt poor” and succeeded through education and hard work. Allowing preferential treatment based on race, she said, will deny people the right to succeed through merit.
“Our skin color will become a scarlet letter,” she said.
Both Asian American regents, William Um and Lark Park, voted to support ACA 5. Park said that it was “fantasy” to assert that race and gender don’t matter. “We need to stop pretending that everyone has access to equal opportunity because they don’t,” Park said.
The debate over ACA 5 revives a four-decade battle over affirmative action in the UC system. In 1974, a white student named Allan Bakke sued the UC system, saying a special admissions program for minorities led to his rejection by UC Davis medical school and violated his constitutional and civil rights. In a landmark 1978 decision, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down racial quotas but upheld the use of race as one of several factors in college admissions policy.
Even if ACA 5 wins passage, the UC and California State University systems would still need to decide how affirmative action would be implemented in their admission and hiring processes. In that event, Regent Sherry Lansing stressed, UC would not lower its high academic standards but merely add race as one of many factors in admissions decisions.


latimes--2020-06-15--Column: In the midst of a racial reckoning, I'm wondering: What does whiteness mean?

Is this what a revolution feels like ?
In just a few weeks , a slow and steady trickle has become a tidal wave with incredible , deceptive speed — global pandemic be damned .
Racism is finally at or near the top of America ’ s agenda , and I ’ m probably not the only one wondering : Why now ?
It ’ s as though for years we ’ ve stood , necks craned , eyes squinted at the horizon searching for change , only to find it suddenly lapping at our ankles and swamping our front @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so much flotsam .
I think part of the reason is the tireless work of Black Lives Matter activists across the nation who have never stopped calling out police violence and mass incarceration and created a movement that refuses to die .
And sometimes the news delivers a combination of stories that connects the dots for us and illuminates a truth as obvious as any constellation in the night sky .
The pandemic showed us that racial and economic disparities have lethal consequences .
Amy Cooper , Ahmaud Arbery , Breonna Taylor and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is police brutality against Black people lethal , but that some white people are aware of that disparity and willing and able to use it as a weapon , often without consequences .
These incidents happened in New York City , in the South and throughout Middle America .
And everywhere it happened , it had happened before .
And if those videos didn ’ t do it for you , we ’ ve also seen countless videos of police across the nation acting like an affronted gang , using illegal force , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and face , protecting a statue of a racist police chief and former mayor in Philadelphia , pushing down a 75-year-old man in Buffalo and leaving him to bleed in the street , and slashing tires of protesters ’ cars .
But one of the biggest reasons this moment feels different is how white people are acting , as Erin Aubry Kaplan wrote about in the L.A. Times last week .
Some illusory dam has broken in the minds of white people .
A Civiqs survey showed a 15-point gain in support for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just the last few weeks , reflecting the first time in the three-year survey that a majority of white people polled supported Black Lives Matter .
So this week I thought I ’ d write about white Los Angeles .
But I quickly found myself defeated by how vague and poorly defined our ideas about white people are .
How can you write about something that is everywhere and nowhere at the same time , that influences everything but is rarely directly named or discussed ?
I ’ ve searched for books , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a group , but I ’ ve found very little material .
A search in L.A. Times archives also proved largely fruitless .
In the news , white perspectives are treated as the default mainstream perspective , even though white people in Los Angeles have been a minority for several decades now .
Where is white Los Angeles ?
What do white Angelenos believe ?
What food do they eat ?
Stymied in my research , last week I got in my car and drove up Fairfax to what seems to me to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , toward Beverly Hills , where about 82 % of the population is white .
I parked at the Grove , where I saw columns of National Guard trucks and clusters of troops standing around with guns , called in two weeks ago to assist local law enforcement with policing the protests .
To me , it was an ominous sight .
But there were also lines of people waiting for pictures with the National Guard , doing yoga poses in front of them and asking them to hold babies .
Two white @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for their service .
Clusters of LAPD officers lounged around the historic and newly reopened Farmers Market , relaxing and talking quietly .
I suddenly found myself tongue-tied .
One aspect of white Los Angeles that was immediately evident was how the community seems to have a favorable and trusting relationship with law enforcement .
How do I interview these people about what seems to me to be an epidemic of racist police brutality when they treat the police like heroes ?
What good would it do for me to ask white people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when white people do not understand that for themselves , and might even find the very question itself offensive ?
What answers did I expect to get ?
I had no idea , so I got back in the car .
I drove past the Whole Foods , and I thought about the time a few years ago when I went inside to interview people about the drought , and a white woman thrust her soup cup into my hands and told me to throw it away .
Dutifully , I told her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to hand her the soup cup back , but she refused it and walked away , telling me that she had a lot to do that day .
I found a trashcan about three feet away and threw away the soup cup .
What else could I do ?
I grew up south of Nashville , and I ’ ve lived among white people all of my life .
I knew that throwing away the cup would be infinitely easier than convincing a rich white woman that what she did was racist .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ different .
White people have started to think about what it means to be antiracist .
Even corporations are trying to find the right words , filling our inboxes with painfully sincere statements of solidarity .
Even NASCAR has banned the Confederate flag .
And in one amusing indicator of the confused good intentions of this moment , Google searches of the phrase “ am I racist ” have skyrocketed .
It ’ s been hard to laugh these past few weeks , but the image of millions of white people frantically asking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ if they are racist brought a real smile to my face .
And it was a reminder that presenting whiteness as an unspoken default worldview doesn ’ t just hurt people of color — it leaves some white people utterly confused when presented with the reality of race in America .
The author Toni Morrison once pointed out that a focus on the victims of racism prevents us from understanding how the structures of racism have shaped its perpetrators .
So a mea culpa to my white readers , if you have managed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has offered a poor representation of whiteness .
But if you know better , I challenge you to say so .
The question of what whiteness means is essential in an age when white nationalism is on the rise .
Donald Trump is sometimes called our first white president because he created an electoral majority by directly appealing to white nationalism and white fears about losing their place at the top of a racial hierarchy .
White identity politics are dominated by conservatives , Republicans and Fox News .
But what if whiteness @ @ @ @ @ @ @ white protesters we ’ ve seen marching to protest police brutality ?
Whiteness is undergoing a fundamental evolution from “ unmarked default ” to “ racially marked , ” according to Nell Irvin Painter , a historian who wrote one of the only existing histories of white people in 2010 .
“ Eliminating the binary definition of whiteness — the toggle between nothingness and awfulness — is essential for a new racial vision that ethical people can share across the color line , ” Painter wrote in a New York Times op-ed in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this is a moment or a movement .
But what white people decide whiteness means will have a huge effect on the outcome .

Is this what a revolution feels like?
In just a few weeks, a slow and steady trickle has become a tidal wave with incredible, deceptive speed — global pandemic be damned. Racism is finally at or near the top of America’s agenda, and I’m probably not the only one wondering: Why now?
It’s as though for years we’ve stood, necks craned, eyes squinted at the horizon searching for change, only to find it suddenly lapping at our ankles and swamping our front doors, washing away entrenched debates like so much flotsam.
I think part of the reason is the tireless work of Black Lives Matter activists across the nation who have never stopped calling out police violence and mass incarceration and created a movement that refuses to die.
And sometimes the news delivers a combination of stories that connects the dots for us and illuminates a truth as obvious as any constellation in the night sky. The pandemic showed us that racial and economic disparities have lethal consequences. Amy Cooper, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd showed us that not only is police brutality against Black people lethal, but that some white people are aware of that disparity and willing and able to use it as a weapon, often without consequences.
Advertisement
These incidents happened in New York City, in the South and throughout Middle America. And everywhere it happened, it had happened before. And if those videos didn’t do it for you, we’ve also seen countless videos of police across the nation acting like an affronted gang, using illegal force, shooting protesters and journalists in the groin and face, protecting a statue of a racist police chief and former mayor in Philadelphia, pushing down a 75-year-old man in Buffalo and leaving him to bleed in the street, and slashing tires of protesters’ cars.
But one of the biggest reasons this moment feels different is how white people are acting, as Erin Aubry Kaplan wrote about in the L.A. Times last week.
Some illusory dam has broken in the minds of white people. A Civiqs survey showed a 15-point gain in support for Black Lives Matter among white people in just the last few weeks, reflecting the first time in the three-year survey that a majority of white people polled supported Black Lives Matter.
So this week I thought I’d write about white Los Angeles. But I quickly found myself defeated by how vague and poorly defined our ideas about white people are. How can you write about something that is everywhere and nowhere at the same time, that influences everything but is rarely directly named or discussed?
I’ve searched for books, scholars or articles about white Angelenos as a group, but I’ve found very little material. A search in L.A. Times archives also proved largely fruitless. In the news, white perspectives are treated as the default mainstream perspective, even though white people in Los Angeles have been a minority for several decades now.
Where is white Los Angeles? What do white Angelenos believe? What food do they eat?
Stymied in my research, last week I got in my car and drove up Fairfax to what seems to me to be the heart of white Los Angeles, toward Beverly Hills, where about 82% of the population is white. I parked at the Grove, where I saw columns of National Guard trucks and clusters of troops standing around with guns, called in two weeks ago to assist local law enforcement with policing the protests.
Advertisement
To me, it was an ominous sight. But there were also lines of people waiting for pictures with the National Guard, doing yoga poses in front of them and asking them to hold babies. Two white children biked by, cheerily thanking them for their service. Clusters of LAPD officers lounged around the historic and newly reopened Farmers Market, relaxing and talking quietly.
I suddenly found myself tongue-tied. One aspect of white Los Angeles that was immediately evident was how the community seems to have a favorable and trusting relationship with law enforcement. How do I interview these people about what seems to me to be an epidemic of racist police brutality when they treat the police like heroes? What good would it do for me to ask white people what it means to be white, when white people do not understand that for themselves, and might even find the very question itself offensive? What answers did I expect to get?
I had no idea, so I got back in the car. I drove past the Whole Foods, and I thought about the time a few years ago when I went inside to interview people about the drought, and a white woman thrust her soup cup into my hands and told me to throw it away.
Dutifully, I told her I was a reporter, and tried to hand her the soup cup back, but she refused it and walked away, telling me that she had a lot to do that day.
I found a trashcan about three feet away and threw away the soup cup. What else could I do? I grew up south of Nashville, and I’ve lived among white people all of my life. I knew that throwing away the cup would be infinitely easier than convincing a rich white woman that what she did was racist.
But these last few weeks have been different. White people have started to think about what it means to be antiracist. Even corporations are trying to find the right words, filling our inboxes with painfully sincere statements of solidarity. Even NASCAR has banned the Confederate flag. And in one amusing indicator of the confused good intentions of this moment, Google searches of the phrase “am I racist” have skyrocketed.
It’s been hard to laugh these past few weeks, but the image of millions of white people frantically asking a search engine algorithm to tell them if they are racist brought a real smile to my face.
And it was a reminder that presenting whiteness as an unspoken default worldview doesn’t just hurt people of color — it leaves some white people utterly confused when presented with the reality of race in America. The author Toni Morrison once pointed out that a focus on the victims of racism prevents us from understanding how the structures of racism have shaped its perpetrators.
So a mea culpa to my white readers, if you have managed to read this far. This column has offered a poor representation of whiteness. But if you know better, I challenge you to say so.
The question of what whiteness means is essential in an age when white nationalism is on the rise. Donald Trump is sometimes called our first white president because he created an electoral majority by directly appealing to white nationalism and white fears about losing their place at the top of a racial hierarchy. White identity politics are dominated by conservatives, Republicans and Fox News.
But what if whiteness could be defined by the thousands of white protesters we’ve seen marching to protest police brutality?
Jennifer Hauge joins in a protest in Minneapolis on May 30. “It’s important to come out and make sure our black brothers and sisters know their lives matter, and that George’s life mattered,” Hauge said. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
Whiteness is undergoing a fundamental evolution from “unmarked default” to “racially marked,” according to Nell Irvin Painter, a historian who wrote one of the only existing histories of white people in 2010.
“Eliminating the binary definition of whiteness — the toggle between nothingness and awfulness — is essential for a new racial vision that ethical people can share across the color line,” Painter wrote in a New York Times op-ed in 2015.
Only time will tell whether this is a moment or a movement. But what white people decide whiteness means will have a huge effect on the outcome.


latimes--2020-06-15--Public health funds are needed more than ever but lack 'lobbying muscle' in California

If there were ever a time for more public health funding , experts say , it ’ s now .
Yet California Gov .
Gavin Newsom and the state ’ s Democratic-controlled Legislature are expected to reject a plea from local public health officials for an additional $ 150 million a year to battle the COVID-19 pandemic and protect against future threats .
“ I ’ m not holding my breath , ” said Riverside County Public Health Director Kim Saruwatari .
“ Right now , more than ever , the gaps that we have in our public health infrastructure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ vow to continue making their case .
But persuading lawmakers to increase spending in a time of cuts will be even more difficult because public health doesn ’ t carry the same political clout in the Capitol as power players such as hospitals , doctors or public employee unions , which plow millions of dollars into lobbying each year .
“ I ’ ve not met anybody who is a lobbyist for public health , ” said Assembly member Jim Wood ( D-Santa Rosa ) , who chairs the Assembly Health Committee .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ of hats have the least resources .
Consequently , it ’ s easier to say no.
” The novel coronavirus has decimated California ’ s economy , and the state faces unprecedented budget challenges .
Newsom is projecting a $ 54 billion deficit for the 2020-21 fiscal year and says the state must make painful decisions before his July 1 deadline to sign a balanced budget into law .
The budget lawmakers are poised to send to Newsom on Monday does not include the additional public health funding officials have asked for .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , such as Wisconsin , where the state faces budget cuts , and officials are asking for more public health money .
“ We need to have a plan to build up public health , ” said Dr. Georges Benjamin , executive director of the American Public Health Assn .
“ We have to figure out how to afford it ; otherwise , we ’ re going to have the same kind of economic consequences the next time something like this happens.
” California ’ s 61 local health departments are the backbone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ system .
The two leading organizations representing local public health officials have spent pennies on the dollar , compared with big-name groups , to lobby the governor , lawmakers and state agencies .
The Health Officers Assn .
of California spent almost $ 7,000 on lobbying from January 2019 , the start of the current legislative session , through March 2020 , according to lobbying disclosures from the California Secretary of State ’ s office .
The County Health Executives Assn .
of California spent $ 191,000 over the same period .
And @ @ @ @ @ @ @ influence Capitol decision makers full-time , the public health organizations ’ executive directors pull double duty , serving as head lobbyists when they can fit it in .
Among the top spenders on lobbying were the powerful California Teachers Assn.
, at $ 7.4 million , and the Service Employees International Union California , at $ 5.3 million .
Deep-pocketed health industry groups have also outspent public health interests .
DaVita Inc. and Fresenius Medical Care , the two dominant dialysis companies operating in the U.S. , spent $ 5.3 million on lobbying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Assn .
spent $ 3.4 million , and the California Medical Assn.
, representing doctors , spent $ 2.7 million .
The groups collectively employ at least 15 in-house lobbyists .
In addition to paying for lobbyists , the money is used to curry favor with the governor , lawmakers and agency officials .
California lobbyists are allowed to give gifts and to wine and dine officials .
In October , for example , the California Medical Assn .
hosted a “ legislative reception ” and dinner that included lawmakers , with the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Disneyland Resort totaling more than $ 22,500 .
Although political spending doesn ’ t always get big industry groups everything they want , it has gained them more access to the governor and other state leaders steering pandemic response plans .
It has also enabled moneyed health industry groups to continue working on other legislative priorities , such as relaxing hospital seismic safety standards and opposing a proposal granting nurse practitioners the ability to work without doctor oversight .
By comparison , lobbying by public health groups consists primarily of visiting lawmakers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ officials from the lawmakers ’ jurisdictions .
Public health leaders are regularly invited to testify at legislative hearings tackling issues like measles outbreaks , the opioid epidemic or teen vaping , but they don ’ t have anywhere near the “ lobbying muscle ” that major health industry groups have cultivated , said Kat DeBurgh , executive director of the Health Officers Assn .
of California .
“ We have no money ; we advocate with our ideas , ” DeBurgh said .
“ We don ’ t have millions of dollars to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t call in a hundred people to stand up at a hearing and say , ‘ I didn ’ t get sick because of public health measures.
’ ” State spending for state and county public health programs has declined over the past decade .
The governor ’ s budget proposal for 2020-21 would continue that trend , reducing the state ’ s current $ 3.4 billion public health budget to $ 3.2 billion .
Counties also are confronting a $ 1.7 billion loss in public health dollars due to pandemic-related declines @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fees , county health officials said , and they have asked Newsom to provide $ 1 billion from the state ’ s general fund to help make up for it .
Newsom has said the state may not be able to afford to do that given other financial demands .
Health officials say the additional $ 150 million they ’ re requesting would help them hire public health nurses and disease investigators , fund public health labs and purchase protective gear .
They say addressing the underfunding of public health is especially critical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ providing adequate COVID-19 testing and contact tracing before easing stay-at-home restrictions .
“ That $ 150 million , that doesn ’ t even get anywhere close to where we need to be , because so much of our funding has eroded away , ” said Mimi Hall , president of the County Health Executives Assn .
of California and director of the Santa Cruz County Health Services Agency .
State Sen. Richard Pan ( D-Sacramento ) , who chairs the Senate Health Committee , is also a pediatrician .
Pan has consistently pushed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the Legislature , and Capitol insiders view him as a de facto lobbyist for public health .
Pan said he plans to continue to advocate for the additional public health funding — despite the economic turmoil .
“ It ’ s hard , because what public health does is invisible , and you have to move people ’ s hearts , ” Pan said .
Other lawmakers acknowledged concerns about public health shortfalls but said it would be difficult to increase spending this year .
However , organizations that can afford to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do OK in this budget , ” said Wood , the Santa Rosa Assembly member .
He is among the lawmakers considered most friendly to public health and said he supports more funding but wants to understand how it would be spent before deciding .
“ They have been underfunded for years , ” Wood said .
“ But some of that happens at the local level , too.
” Last year , public health officials sought $ 50 million a year from state lawmakers to help rebuild public health infrastructure following years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their request .
County health directors say chronic underfunding has forced them to make difficult decisions to curtail spending and cut programs like public health labs — 11 of 40 have shuttered in the past two decades .
And for years , they have warned California leaders that the state would be quickly overwhelmed should a public health crisis strike .
Their pleas have gone largely ignored .
The impact of the relentless cuts has been felt across the state , including in Riverside County , which has slashed its public health staff @ @ @ @ @ @ @ decade , leaving just 30 disease investigators , contact tracers and public health nurses to serve the sprawling region of 2.5 million people , said Saruwatari , its public health director .
“ Had we had the ability to test earlier , I think we would have been able to get out in front of this a little bit more , ” she said .
This story was produced by KHN ( Kaiser Health News ) , which publishes California Healthline , an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ .

If there were ever a time for more public health funding, experts say, it’s now.
Yet California Gov. Gavin Newsom and the state’s Democratic-controlled Legislature are expected to reject a plea from local public health officials for an additional $150 million a year to battle the COVID-19 pandemic and protect against future threats.
“I’m not holding my breath,” said Riverside County Public Health Director Kim Saruwatari. “Right now, more than ever, the gaps that we have in our public health infrastructure have been exposed.”
Public health officials vow to continue making their case. But persuading lawmakers to increase spending in a time of cuts will be even more difficult because public health doesn’t carry the same political clout in the Capitol as power players such as hospitals, doctors or public employee unions, which plow millions of dollars into lobbying each year.
Advertisement
“I’ve not met anybody who is a lobbyist for public health,” said Assembly member Jim Wood (D-Santa Rosa), who chairs the Assembly Health Committee. “The organizations that wear the whitest of hats have the least resources. Consequently, it’s easier to say no.”
California Newsom’s budget cuts would hit Californians most vulnerable to coronavirus Safety-net programs that keep low-income Californians out of nursing homes are on the chopping block with Gov. Gavin Newsom’s proposed budget, aimed at plugging a massive deficit.
The novel coronavirus has decimated California’s economy, and the state faces unprecedented budget challenges. Newsom is projecting a $54 billion deficit for the 2020-21 fiscal year and says the state must make painful decisions before his July 1 deadline to sign a balanced budget into law.
The budget lawmakers are poised to send to Newsom on Monday does not include the additional public health funding officials have asked for.
Similar funding battles are taking place elsewhere, such as Wisconsin, where the state faces budget cuts, and officials are asking for more public health money.
“We need to have a plan to build up public health,” said Dr. Georges Benjamin, executive director of the American Public Health Assn. “We have to figure out how to afford it; otherwise, we’re going to have the same kind of economic consequences the next time something like this happens.”
California’s 61 local health departments are the backbone of the state’s public health system. The two leading organizations representing local public health officials have spent pennies on the dollar, compared with big-name groups, to lobby the governor, lawmakers and state agencies.
The Health Officers Assn. of California spent almost $7,000 on lobbying from January 2019, the start of the current legislative session, through March 2020, according to lobbying disclosures from the California Secretary of State’s office. The County Health Executives Assn. of California spent $191,000 over the same period. And while other groups employ in-house lobbyists to influence Capitol decision makers full-time, the public health organizations’ executive directors pull double duty, serving as head lobbyists when they can fit it in.
Among the top spenders on lobbying were the powerful California Teachers Assn., at $7.4 million, and the Service Employees International Union California, at $5.3 million.
Advertisement
Deep-pocketed health industry groups have also outspent public health interests. DaVita Inc. and Fresenius Medical Care, the two dominant dialysis companies operating in the U.S., spent $5.3 million on lobbying during that period. The California Hospital Assn. spent $3.4 million, and the California Medical Assn., representing doctors, spent $2.7 million. The groups collectively employ at least 15 in-house lobbyists.
In addition to paying for lobbyists, the money is used to curry favor with the governor, lawmakers and agency officials. California lobbyists are allowed to give gifts and to wine and dine officials.
In October, for example, the California Medical Assn. hosted a “legislative reception” and dinner that included lawmakers, with the tab at the Napa Rose restaurant at the Disneyland Resort totaling more than $22,500.
Although political spending doesn’t always get big industry groups everything they want, it has gained them more access to the governor and other state leaders steering pandemic response plans. It has also enabled moneyed health industry groups to continue working on other legislative priorities, such as relaxing hospital seismic safety standards and opposing a proposal granting nurse practitioners the ability to work without doctor oversight.
By comparison, lobbying by public health groups consists primarily of visiting lawmakers’ offices, often accompanied by health officials from the lawmakers’ jurisdictions.
Public health leaders are regularly invited to testify at legislative hearings tackling issues like measles outbreaks, the opioid epidemic or teen vaping, but they don’t have anywhere near the “lobbying muscle” that major health industry groups have cultivated, said Kat DeBurgh, executive director of the Health Officers Assn. of California.
“We have no money; we advocate with our ideas,” DeBurgh said. “We don’t have millions of dollars to spend on billboards, and we can’t call in a hundred people to stand up at a hearing and say, ‘I didn’t get sick because of public health measures.’”
State spending for state and county public health programs has declined over the past decade. The governor’s budget proposal for 2020-21 would continue that trend, reducing the state’s current $3.4 billion public health budget to $3.2 billion.
Counties also are confronting a $1.7 billion loss in public health dollars due to pandemic-related declines in sales tax revenue and vehicle license fees, county health officials said, and they have asked Newsom to provide $1 billion from the state’s general fund to help make up for it.
Newsom has said the state may not be able to afford to do that given other financial demands.
Health officials say the additional $150 million they’re requesting would help them hire public health nurses and disease investigators, fund public health labs and purchase protective gear. They say addressing the underfunding of public health is especially critical now because counties are primarily responsible for providing adequate COVID-19 testing and contact tracing before easing stay-at-home restrictions.
“That $150 million, that doesn’t even get anywhere close to where we need to be, because so much of our funding has eroded away,” said Mimi Hall, president of the County Health Executives Assn. of California and director of the Santa Cruz County Health Services Agency.
State Sen. Richard Pan (D-Sacramento), who chairs the Senate Health Committee, is also a pediatrician. Pan has consistently pushed for public health funding during his time in the Legislature, and Capitol insiders view him as a de facto lobbyist for public health.
Pan said he plans to continue to advocate for the additional public health funding — despite the economic turmoil.
“It’s hard, because what public health does is invisible, and you have to move people’s hearts,” Pan said.
Other lawmakers acknowledged concerns about public health shortfalls but said it would be difficult to increase spending this year. However, organizations that can afford to hire high-priced lobbying firms “will probably do OK in this budget,” said Wood, the Santa Rosa Assembly member.
He is among the lawmakers considered most friendly to public health and said he supports more funding but wants to understand how it would be spent before deciding.
“They have been underfunded for years,” Wood said. “But some of that happens at the local level, too.”
Last year, public health officials sought $50 million a year from state lawmakers to help rebuild public health infrastructure following years of recession-era budget cuts. Newsom denied their request.
County health directors say chronic underfunding has forced them to make difficult decisions to curtail spending and cut programs like public health labs — 11 of 40 have shuttered in the past two decades.
And for years, they have warned California leaders that the state would be quickly overwhelmed should a public health crisis strike. Their pleas have gone largely ignored.
The impact of the relentless cuts has been felt across the state, including in Riverside County, which has slashed its public health staff by about 60% over the past decade, leaving just 30 disease investigators, contact tracers and public health nurses to serve the sprawling region of 2.5 million people, said Saruwatari, its public health director.
“Had we had the ability to test earlier, I think we would have been able to get out in front of this a little bit more,” she said.
This story was produced by KHN (Kaiser Health News), which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. KHN is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.


latimes--2020-06-15--For teen activists, defunding school police has been a decade in the making

In the midst of the 1980s war on drugs and in the wake of devastating mass school shootings throughout the country , bolstering school police in Los Angeles was seen as a safety imperative by many educators and parents .
But for the last decade , a number of student advocacy groups have pushed the school board to reduce police presence in their schools , saying Black and Latino children are targeted for discipline more than others .
The Los Angeles School Police Department now employs about 470 officers and civilians , including placement of an armed and uniformed officer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ highly publicized turn last week , the leadership of the Los Angeles teachers union voted to support the elimination of the $ 70-million school police budget .
The union ’ s public announcement on the steps of City Hall — compelled by two weeks of protests and outrage over police brutality against Black people and the killing of George Floyd — has increased the urgency of the debate within the nation ’ s second-largest school district .
The union leadership joins a number of community-based organizations who say the $ 70-million school police @ @ @ @ @ @ @ counselors and build restorative justice programs .
“ This moment is different because if you all remember a couple weeks ago , people acted like ... the call to defund police was a radical call , ” said Black Lives Matter Los Angeles co-founder Melina Abdullah , a Cal State Los Angeles professor of Pan-African Studies and an L.A. Unified parent .
“ We ’ re at a moment when all of a sudden , our most radical imaginings are possible .
We can end the system of policing as we know it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ And we have to begin with our children.
” The Los Angeles schools movement comes as school districts and universities throughout the country have joined city debates over defunding or reorganizing police departments .
Ultimately it ’ s up to the school board , which authorizes police spending , to decide whether to take action — two of seven school board members said they did not support the move , one said the issue should be discussed during budget deliberations and four others either declined or did not respond to requests to comment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ police workforce is subject to collective bargaining with the police union .
L.A. School Police Assn .
President Gil Gamez said officers are necessary to keep the peace on campus and are trained to deescalate situations among students .
In addition , the department has shared on social media a petition circulating to keep the department intact .
A newly formed coalition of Black school police officers said they support reform , but not elimination of the department .
“ We are also hurting ; and as police officers we understand and accept @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
We are committed to comprehensive , institutional reforms to help eradicate the legacy of systemic racism and violence within law enforcement.
” Groups that have worked for years to reduce police presence on campuses and decrease punitive discipline measures include the South L.A. parent organizing group CADRE , Youth Justice Coalition and the Labor/Community Strategy Center .
“ Since this is such a political issue , the reason why you haven ’ t heard as many calls to completely eliminate the police is because there hasn ’ t been broad support around @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California , which has long supported disbanding school police .
Over the years the organizing groups have scored wins — L.A. Unified police agreed in 2014 to stop citing students for minor offenses , such as tardiness or dress code infractions .
Between then and 2016 , the department returned the military-grade weaponry it had received from the federal government — including grenade launchers .
Last year , the school board voted to stop random student searches .
Although not performed by school @ @ @ @ @ @ @ unfair .
An analysis of L.A. school police data from 2014 to 2017 , conducted by Kelly Lytle Hernández , a UCLA professor of history , African American studies and urban planning , showed that Black students had disproportionate rates of interactions with officers , including arrests and “ diversions , ” a citation meant to funnel students into counseling .
“ It ’ s part of a pattern , ” said Lytle Hernández , who was awarded a 2019 MacArthur Foundation “ genius ” grant for her body of research .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we have to break that sees these young kids as more of threats than humans to be invested in.
” How did police end up on school campuses ?
The current L.A. School Police Department emerged from a group of unarmed , unsworn security guards who watched over campuses at night in the 1940s , said Manuel Criollo , a strategy team member for the Dignity in Schools Campaign California .
By the time Black and Chicano students led walkouts at their schools in the 1960s , demanding better learning conditions , armed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ local police officers were assigned to their campuses , he said .
When conservative state leadership allowed schools to deputize their own police forces , L.A. Unified codified its force in 1984 .
In the years following the Columbine High School shooting and as mass school shootings continued to convulse campuses , school safety rose to the top of parental concerns , and officials nationwide beefed campus law enforcement .
In 2018 , after the shooting in Parkland , Fla. , the U.S. Department of Justice announced that a federal grant program would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Yet some students and their advocates are concerned about recent instances of police use of force in schools .
Sarah Djato , a Dorsey High School student , said she watched from a campus balcony as L.A. School Police pepper-sprayed classmates during a fight and believes police presence on campus is detrimental to her learning and to Black students ’ understanding of the world they live in .
“ When you ’ re having this continuously happen ... to Black students , it becomes in our minds that that is normal and that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ supposed to treat situations and you defuse it by force , and that violence is OK and violence is normal , ” said Sarah , 16 , an organizer in the local youth activism group Students Deserve .
Rebecca Gonzalez , a Fremont High School student , said she , too , saw police use pepper spray at her school during a fight in November .
Instead of officers , peacekeepers who are community members , or mental health workers , should staff the schools to preempt fights , both students said .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ clear from social media and the interactions between students involved that the situations at their schools were escalating far before fistfights erupted .
She has hope that the current movement will get more adults — especially teachers , many of whom are white — on board .
“ I feel like people are starting to be more aware than they were before .
People are starting to take the time to educate themselves , especially white people .
Because it ’ s new to them , it ’ s not new to us @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Black and Latina .
“ I ’ ve never seen so many white people holding themselves accountable.
” L.A. School Police used pepper spray on at least five students during the 2018 calendar year , seven in 2019 , and one thus far in 2020 , an L.A. Unified spokeswoman said Sunday .
The district did not release the names of the school or schools where the incidents took place or the number of instances in which police used pepper spray , except for Hollywood High School in March 2020 .
School officials @ @ @ @ @ @ @ additional incidents , said L.A. Unified spokeswoman Shannon Haber .
During the 2019-2020 school year school , police responded to reports of 403 “ assaults-battery , ” 369 burglaries , 155 mass shooting threats , 95 robberies , 63 assaults with a deadly weapon , seven bomb threats and five rapes , according to the school district .
Supt .
Austin Beutner declined to comment regarding the union ’ s call to defund police and is expected to discuss school police Monday during his pre-recorded weekly briefing .
Two school board members recall @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the accounts of students .
Board member George McKenna said he remembers being alerted of a melee at least once .
The Fremont High School incident was widely reported on because 30 Los Angeles Police Department officers responded in riot gear to reports of multiple fights on campus .
There also were school police officers at the scene .
It was the LAPD that used the pepper spray , said Dulce Lopez , deputy chief of staff for board President Richard Vladovic .
McKenna , who worked for decades as a school @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on campus is a positive force .
“ Given the violence on some campuses and the possibility of school shootings anywhere — to not have a school police officer there makes you much more vulnerable , ” he said .
“ It ’ s a deterrent more than anything and mostly a deterrent for the outside threat.
” School board member Nick Melvoin said he would be open to reforming the department , but does not support shutting down police presence completely .
Vladovic , who has maintained a working relationship with the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ issue , said “ there needs to be an open and honest debate ... and I believe we need to address institutional racism wherever it exists.
” In addition , State Superintendent of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond said last week that he does not support eliminating school-based police departments completely .
“ We need to have standards for school resource officers , ” Thurmond said .
“ Those standards mean that we should never ever at any school expect a police officer to be the dean of students ... who disciplines a student @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ”

Sarah Djato, right, listens to speakers during a news conference calling for the removal of police from the Los Angeles school system on June 8 in Los Angeles.
In the midst of the 1980s war on drugs and in the wake of devastating mass school shootings throughout the country, bolstering school police in Los Angeles was seen as a safety imperative by many educators and parents.
But for the last decade, a number of student advocacy groups have pushed the school board to reduce police presence in their schools, saying Black and Latino children are targeted for discipline more than others.
The Los Angeles School Police Department now employs about 470 officers and civilians, including placement of an armed and uniformed officer at every high school. In a highly publicized turn last week, the leadership of the Los Angeles teachers union voted to support the elimination of the $70-million school police budget.
The union’s public announcement on the steps of City Hall — compelled by two weeks of protests and outrage over police brutality against Black people and the killing of George Floyd — has increased the urgency of the debate within the nation’s second-largest school district. The union leadership joins a number of community-based organizations who say the $70-million school police budget should be used to hire more counselors and build restorative justice programs.
Advertisement
× Nationwide, protesters and activists have been calling to “defund the police.” But what does it actually mean? And why are so many people calling for it to happen?
“This moment is different because if you all remember a couple weeks ago, people acted like ... the call to defund police was a radical call,” said Black Lives Matter Los Angeles co-founder Melina Abdullah, a Cal State Los Angeles professor of Pan-African Studies and an L.A. Unified parent. “We’re at a moment when all of a sudden, our most radical imaginings are possible. We can end the system of policing as we know it. We can defund the police. And we have to begin with our children.”
The Los Angeles schools movement comes as school districts and universities throughout the country have joined city debates over defunding or reorganizing police departments.
Ultimately it’s up to the school board, which authorizes police spending, to decide whether to take action — two of seven school board members said they did not support the move, one said the issue should be discussed during budget deliberations and four others either declined or did not respond to requests to comment.
Any move to change the school police workforce is subject to collective bargaining with the police union. L.A. School Police Assn. President Gil Gamez said officers are necessary to keep the peace on campus and are trained to deescalate situations among students. In addition, the department has shared on social media a petition circulating to keep the department intact.
A newly formed coalition of Black school police officers said they support reform, but not elimination of the department. “We are also hurting; and as police officers we understand and accept that there needs to be meaningful change. We are committed to comprehensive, institutional reforms to help eradicate the legacy of systemic racism and violence within law enforcement.”
Groups that have worked for years to reduce police presence on campuses and decrease punitive discipline measures include the South L.A. parent organizing group CADRE, Youth Justice Coalition and the Labor/Community Strategy Center.
Advertisement
“Since this is such a political issue, the reason why you haven’t heard as many calls to completely eliminate the police is because there hasn’t been broad support around it,” said Amir Whitaker, an attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California, which has long supported disbanding school police.
Over the years the organizing groups have scored wins — L.A. Unified police agreed in 2014 to stop citing students for minor offenses, such as tardiness or dress code infractions. Between then and 2016, the department returned the military-grade weaponry it had received from the federal government — including grenade launchers. Last year, the school board voted to stop random student searches. Although not performed by school police, the searches were viewed as unfair.
An analysis of L.A. school police data from 2014 to 2017, conducted by Kelly Lytle Hernández, a UCLA professor of history, African American studies and urban planning, showed that Black students had disproportionate rates of interactions with officers, including arrests and “diversions,” a citation meant to funnel students into counseling.
“It’s part of a pattern,” said Lytle Hernández, who was awarded a 2019 MacArthur Foundation “genius” grant for her body of research. “It’s part of a culture we have to break that sees these young kids as more of threats than humans to be invested in.”
How did police end up on school campuses?
The current L.A. School Police Department emerged from a group of unarmed, unsworn security guards who watched over campuses at night in the 1940s, said Manuel Criollo, a strategy team member for the Dignity in Schools Campaign California.
By the time Black and Chicano students led walkouts at their schools in the 1960s, demanding better learning conditions, armed guards patrolled some schools, and increasingly local police officers were assigned to their campuses, he said. When conservative state leadership allowed schools to deputize their own police forces, L.A. Unified codified its force in 1984.
In the years following the Columbine High School shooting and as mass school shootings continued to convulse campuses, school safety rose to the top of parental concerns, and officials nationwide beefed campus law enforcement. In 2018, after the shooting in Parkland, Fla., the U.S. Department of Justice announced that a federal grant program would prioritize funding more school resource officers.
Yet some students and their advocates are concerned about recent instances of police use of force in schools.
Sarah Djato, a Dorsey High School student, said she watched from a campus balcony as L.A. School Police pepper-sprayed classmates during a fight and believes police presence on campus is detrimental to her learning and to Black students’ understanding of the world they live in.
“When you’re having this continuously happen ... to Black students, it becomes in our minds that that is normal and that’s the way we’re supposed to treat situations and you defuse it by force, and that violence is OK and violence is normal,” said Sarah, 16, an organizer in the local youth activism group Students Deserve.
Rebecca Gonzalez, a Fremont High School student, said she, too, saw police use pepper spray at her school during a fight in November. Instead of officers, peacekeepers who are community members, or mental health workers, should staff the schools to preempt fights, both students said.
Both she and Sarah said it was clear from social media and the interactions between students involved that the situations at their schools were escalating far before fistfights erupted. She has hope that the current movement will get more adults — especially teachers, many of whom are white — on board.
“I feel like people are starting to be more aware than they were before. People are starting to take the time to educate themselves, especially white people. Because it’s new to them, it’s not new to us,” said Rebecca, who is Black and Latina. “I’ve never seen so many white people holding themselves accountable.”
L.A. School Police used pepper spray on at least five students during the 2018 calendar year, seven in 2019, and one thus far in 2020, an L.A. Unified spokeswoman said Sunday. The district did not release the names of the school or schools where the incidents took place or the number of instances in which police used pepper spray, except for Hollywood High School in March 2020. School officials are looking through police reports for potential additional incidents, said L.A. Unified spokeswoman Shannon Haber.
During the 2019-2020 school year school, police responded to reports of 403 “assaults-battery,” 369 burglaries, 155 mass shooting threats, 95 robberies, 63 assaults with a deadly weapon, seven bomb threats and five rapes, according to the school district.
Supt. Austin Beutner declined to comment regarding the union’s call to defund police and is expected to discuss school police Monday during his pre-recorded weekly briefing.
Two school board members recall seeing reports that correspond to varying degrees with the accounts of students. Board member George McKenna said he remembers being alerted of a melee at least once.
The Fremont High School incident was widely reported on because 30 Los Angeles Police Department officers responded in riot gear to reports of multiple fights on campus. There also were school police officers at the scene. It was the LAPD that used the pepper spray, said Dulce Lopez, deputy chief of staff for board President Richard Vladovic.
The complications of eliminating a police department
McKenna, who worked for decades as a school administrator and principal, said an officer on campus is a positive force.
“Given the violence on some campuses and the possibility of school shootings anywhere — to not have a school police officer there makes you much more vulnerable,” he said. “It’s a deterrent more than anything and mostly a deterrent for the outside threat.”
School board member Nick Melvoin said he would be open to reforming the department, but does not support shutting down police presence completely. Vladovic, who has maintained a working relationship with the employee unions on each side of this issue, said “there needs to be an open and honest debate...and I believe we need to address institutional racism wherever it exists.”
In addition, State Superintendent of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond said last week that he does not support eliminating school-based police departments completely.
“We need to have standards for school resource officers,” Thurmond said. “Those standards mean that we should never ever at any school expect a police officer to be the dean of students ... who disciplines a student for doing things that students do.”


latimes--2020-06-15--Pepper-sprayed at the White House: "It was the worst feeling in the world"

Her mother ’ s phone number has faded from her arm .
Imani Williams wrote it there in black Sharpie on June 1 , before heading to the White House to protest George Floyd ’ s killing .
Her eyes are no longer swollen from the pepper spray law enforcement agents used on the largely peaceful crowd .
But the deep bruise on her left hip had not gone away more than a week later .
It ’ s where the 22-year-old from Fresno was struck by a nonlethal round fired by officers in riot gear who were clearing the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ St. John ’ s Episcopal Church so he could be photographed holding a Bible and looking stern .
In the aftermath of the Washington , D.C. , protest , Trump and his staff denied that authorities used tear gas to drive the crowd out of Lafayette Park .
“ No tear gas was used , and no rubber bullets were used , ” White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany told reporters two days later .
Williams wants you to know what happened on that day .
She wants you to know about the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the baton , the thud of the rubber bullet against her body , how fast her heart beat as police horses bore down .
And she doesn ’ t want the world to forget that the president advocated using force against his own citizens as they demonstrated against racism and police brutality in the nation ’ s capital .
With each passing day , that second wish , at least , seems closer to coming true .
On Thursday , Army Gen. Mark A. Milley , chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff @ @ @ @ @ @ @ joined the president on his controversial walk through Lafayette Square and that his presence in uniform undermined “ the principle of an apolitical military.
” Just hours later , three women who protested June 1 at the White House filed suit in federal court against the president and his administration , alleging that law enforcement action to disperse the protesters violated their constitutional rights .
“ Our president has made it scary for me to be Black in this country , ” plaintiff Radiya Buchanan , 27 , said in an interview , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ country , to be a woman in this country , a sister to Black men , a daughter to a Black man.
” A day earlier , more than 1,250 alumni of the U.S. Department of Justice wrote a letter decrying Atty .
Gen. William Barr ’ s “ possible role ” in ordering the protest to be suppressed .
Federal authorities in riot gear , they wrote , “ reportedly fired rubber bullets , chemical gas , smoke canisters and stun grenades at peaceful protesters , and otherwise used excessive force , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Williams , who came to Washington from California ’ s conservative heartland to attend Howard University .
Today , she ’ s a barista , a bartender and a poet , out of work since March , when the novel coronavirus shut the country down .
“ I went out Monday , not just for me and my family , but for everyone who could not go out because of COVID , ” she said .
“ To stay on Instagram all day and repost things I agree with , that wasn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in her hometown as the child of a Black father and white mother .
And she learned about activism at her mother ’ s knee ; Stacy Williams is a longtime Fresno community organizer who was involved in protests after video of a white high school cheerleader in blackface went viral in 2019 .
Asked about growing up in the heart of the Central Valley , Williams laughed .
“ Oh , Fresno , ” she sighed , then told a story about going to the grocery store when she was 8 with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were 5 and 10 .
The family had moved to Fresno from nearby Merced a year earlier .
Her mother , she said , had always taught them to behave , not to touch anything on the shelves , to stay close , hold on to the cart .
On that day , 15 years ago , they were walking down a grocery aisle when an older white woman approached them .
She “ stopped and looked at us .
All she said was , ‘ Ugh , this is disgusting.
’ She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ Me and my brothers were very confused .
I looked at my mom and said , ‘ What happened ?
’ She said , ‘ She was jealous that you are beautiful.
’ “ My mom raised me to be a Black woman , ” Williams said .
“ I didn ’ t know I was mixed race until Fresno .
We were the only Black people in that grocery store , a Vons .
It was always the little things , in the grocery store or even at school , being @ @ @ @ @ @ @ … I ’ m the only Black barista in my coffee shop.
” Williams is named for the seventh principle of Kwanzaa , faith .
She still lives near Howard University .
On June 1 , she grabbed her camera and backpack and headed to the White House at about 1:30 p.m .
The protest was calm and peaceful , she said .
There were kids and dogs , prayers and chanting .
At around 6:30 or so , she said , the law enforcement presence grew .
She saw a row of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was a row of officers in riot gear , the “ pepper spray and rubber bullet shooters.
” A flash bomb went off , then another .
After the third , she said , “ they charged us.
” “ I tried to go to my right , away from the horses , ” Williams said .
“ That ’ s when I got hit on my left side with a baton , on my chest .
… I yelled ‘ Don ’ t touch me !
’ That ’ s when two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I screamed , ‘ I got hit.
’ I was trying to run into the crowd to get help.
” Other protesters offered first aid .
Some had jugs of milk and spray bottles of baking soda and water to wash chemicals out of burning eyes .
As Williams turned , holding her left eye , she said , she got shot with what she described as two rubber bullets and another pepper-spray projectile .
“ It was the worst feeling in the world , ” she said .
“ I honestly didn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ see after that .
Someone said , ‘ Get down on your knees .
We ’ re going to wash you up.
’ ” It took almost half an hour to rinse Williams ’ eyes , she said , in part because they had to keep moving as law enforcement agents swarmed .
She had run into a friend , a 30-year-old photographer and security guard named Kay Brandon , as the melee progressed .
She handed him her phone and camera .
She showed him her arm where she ’ d written @ @ @ @ @ @ @ She asked him to call home for her .
Brandon had just returned that afternoon from Minneapolis , where Floyd died with a white police officer ’ s knee on his neck , the epicenter of the national unrest .
Brandon had documented the protests and their aftermath , the burned buildings , smoke and heat still rising from the rubble .
And there he was , in the middle of it again .
“ Straight chaos ” is how he described the capital that afternoon , “ tear gas everywhere , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he said , “ was visibly shaken .
She was going through it .
She had a white powder substance on her clothing where the impact of the tear gas hit her .
Her left eye was swollen .
She was having an anxiety attack.
” But as Brandon and another protester helped calm the injured woman , the volume of screams around them rose .
He grabbed his camera and said , “ We got ta go.
” The National Guard began clearing them away , he said , “ for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It was all chaos.
” When Stacy Williams ’ fear for her daughter wore off , anger quickly replaced it .
She ’ d seen video of the protest , footage of her daughter ’ s eyes being washed clean of pepper spray , photos of the perfect red circle on her daughter ’ s hip from the impact of a rubber bullet .
And then she heard the administration ’ s early response to law enforcement behavior at the president ’ s front door .
“ I see her wounds .
Someone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have your daughter , but she ’ s been hit , and we ’ re washing out her eyes , ’ ” Stacy Williams said in an interview .
“ You go through all that , and then you see the president and press secretary say nothing like that happened .
“ It ’ s infuriating .
The truth has to be told .
”

Volunteers care for Imani Williams, center, after she was pepper-sprayed and shot with rubber bullets during a protest June 1 at the White House.
Her mother’s phone number has faded from her arm. Imani Williams wrote it there in black Sharpie on June 1, before heading to the White House to protest George Floyd’s killing.
Her eyes are no longer swollen from the pepper spray law enforcement agents used on the largely peaceful crowd.
But the deep bruise on her left hip had not gone away more than a week later. It’s where the 22-year-old from Fresno was struck by a nonlethal round fired by officers in riot gear who were clearing the way for President Trump to walk to St. John’s Episcopal Church so he could be photographed holding a Bible and looking stern.
In the aftermath of the Washington, D.C., protest, Trump and his staff denied that authorities used tear gas to drive the crowd out of Lafayette Park.
Advertisement
“No tear gas was used, and no rubber bullets were used,” White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany told reporters two days later.
“FAKE NEWS!” the president tweeted.
A protester helps wash out Imani Williams’ eyes after she was pepper-sprayed. (Kay Brandon)
Williams wants you to know what happened on that day. She wants you to know about the clouds of gas, the sting of the baton, the thud of the rubber bullet against her body, how fast her heart beat as police horses bore down.
And she doesn’t want the world to forget that the president advocated using force against his own citizens as they demonstrated against racism and police brutality in the nation’s capital.
With each passing day, that second wish, at least, seems closer to coming true.
On Thursday, Army Gen. Mark A. Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, said he was wrong to have joined the president on his controversial walk through Lafayette Square and that his presence in uniform undermined “the principle of an apolitical military.”
Advertisement
Just hours later, three women who protested June 1 at the White House filed suit in federal court against the president and his administration, alleging that law enforcement action to disperse the protesters violated their constitutional rights.
“Our president has made it scary for me to be Black in this country,” plaintiff Radiya Buchanan, 27, said in an interview, “to be a Muslim in this country, to be a woman in this country, a sister to Black men, a daughter to a Black man.”
A day earlier, more than 1,250 alumni of the U.S. Department of Justice wrote a letter decrying Atty. Gen. William Barr’s “possible role” in ordering the protest to be suppressed. Federal authorities in riot gear, they wrote, “reportedly fired rubber bullets, chemical gas, smoke canisters and stun grenades at peaceful protesters, and otherwise used excessive force, physically injuring many people.”
Those included Williams, who came to Washington from California’s conservative heartland to attend Howard University. Today, she’s a barista, a bartender and a poet, out of work since March, when the novel coronavirus shut the country down.
“I went out Monday, not just for me and my family, but for everyone who could not go out because of COVID,” she said. “To stay on Instagram all day and repost things I agree with, that wasn’t enough.”
Williams learned about racism in her hometown as the child of a Black father and white mother. And she learned about activism at her mother’s knee; Stacy Williams is a longtime Fresno community organizer who was involved in protests after video of a white high school cheerleader in blackface went viral in 2019.
Asked about growing up in the heart of the Central Valley, Williams laughed.
“Oh, Fresno,” she sighed, then told a story about going to the grocery store when she was 8 with her mother and two brothers, who were 5 and 10. The family had moved to Fresno from nearby Merced a year earlier.
Her mother, she said, had always taught them to behave, not to touch anything on the shelves, to stay close, hold on to the cart. On that day, 15 years ago, they were walking down a grocery aisle when an older white woman approached them.
She “stopped and looked at us. All she said was, ‘Ugh, this is disgusting.’ She walked away,” Williams recounted. “Me and my brothers were very confused. I looked at my mom and said, ‘What happened?’ She said, ‘She was jealous that you are beautiful.’
“My mom raised me to be a Black woman,” Williams said. “I didn’t know I was mixed race until Fresno. We were the only Black people in that grocery store, a Vons. It was always the little things, in the grocery store or even at school, being the only Black person in class. … I’m the only Black barista in my coffee shop.”
Williams is named for the seventh principle of Kwanzaa, faith. She still lives near Howard University. On June 1, she grabbed her camera and backpack and headed to the White House at about 1:30 p.m. The protest was calm and peaceful, she said. There were kids and dogs, prayers and chanting.
At around 6:30 or so, she said, the law enforcement presence grew. She saw a row of police officers on horses. Behind them was a row of officers in riot gear, the “pepper spray and rubber bullet shooters.” A flash bomb went off, then another. After the third, she said, “they charged us.”
“I tried to go to my right, away from the horses,” Williams said. “That’s when I got hit on my left side with a baton, on my chest. … I yelled ‘Don’t touch me!’ That’s when two pepper-spray bullets hit my left eye. I screamed, ‘I got hit.’ I was trying to run into the crowd to get help.”
Other protesters offered first aid. Some had jugs of milk and spray bottles of baking soda and water to wash chemicals out of burning eyes. As Williams turned, holding her left eye, she said, she got shot with what she described as two rubber bullets and another pepper-spray projectile.
“It was the worst feeling in the world,” she said. “I honestly didn’t think I was going to see after that. Someone said, ‘Get down on your knees. We’re going to wash you up.’”
It took almost half an hour to rinse Williams’ eyes, she said, in part because they had to keep moving as law enforcement agents swarmed.
She had run into a friend, a 30-year-old photographer and security guard named Kay Brandon, as the melee progressed. She handed him her phone and camera. She showed him her arm where she’d written her mother’s phone number. She asked him to call home for her.
Brandon had just returned that afternoon from Minneapolis, where Floyd died with a white police officer’s knee on his neck, the epicenter of the national unrest. Brandon had documented the protests and their aftermath, the burned buildings, smoke and heat still rising from the rubble. And there he was, in the middle of it again.
“Straight chaos” is how he described the capital that afternoon, “tear gas everywhere,” protesters shot with rubber bullets.
Williams, he said, “was visibly shaken. She was going through it. She had a white powder substance on her clothing where the impact of the tear gas hit her. Her left eye was swollen. She was having an anxiety attack.”
But as Brandon and another protester helped calm the injured woman, the volume of screams around them rose. He grabbed his camera and said, “We gotta go.” The National Guard began clearing them away, he said, “for the president to take a picture. It was all chaos.”
When Stacy Williams’ fear for her daughter wore off, anger quickly replaced it. She’d seen video of the protest, footage of her daughter’s eyes being washed clean of pepper spray, photos of the perfect red circle on her daughter’s hip from the impact of a rubber bullet.
And then she heard the administration’s early response to law enforcement behavior at the president’s front door.
“I see her wounds. Someone called me and said, ‘I have your daughter, but she’s been hit, and we’re washing out her eyes,’” Stacy Williams said in an interview. “You go through all that, and then you see the president and press secretary say nothing like that happened.
“It’s infuriating. The truth has to be told.”