motherjones--2020-09-14--Trump Doesn’t Want to Keep You Calm. White Panic Is Central to His Presidency.

As we all know by now , excerpts from Bob Woodward ’ s new book , Rage , have revealed that President Trump knew a lot more about the seriousness of the coronavirus than he or his policies or his previous statements let on .
As early as February 7 , he told Woodward that the coronavirus was deadlier than the flu and was spread through the air .
So , why did the president spend the previous six months downplaying the virus ’ severity , urging reopening , and ridiculing the wearing of masks ?
Following Woodward ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rally in Michigan last week , Trump claimed that he was only doing the responsible presidential thing by lying about the virus , and that was keeping the nation calm .
“ They wanted me to come out and scream : People are dying , ” the president said without a hint of irony to his adoring crowd .
“ No , I did it just the right way.
” But that ’ s not based in reality .
After all , Trump has come out and screamed “ People are dying !
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
He ’ s just not talking about the ones who actually are .
Despite his reassurance that he ’ s been lying about the virus because he wanted to keep the American public calm , white panic has been the theme of Trump ’ s presidency from the moment he descended that golden escalator and announced his candidacy .
There appears to be nothing he likes better than to fan the flames around conspiracy theories , and his campaign has released several ads recently that show America burning , claiming that this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the future .
Remember he launched his campaign in late 2015 by calling Mexican immigrants rapists and criminals ready to cross the border en masse .
After that strategy won him the White House , he spent his first term fear mongering about immigrants in caravans and Muslims on planes .
And now that his second campaign is in its final weeks , and the president continues to trail Biden in the polls , he ’ s ramping up that fear-based message to an almost deafening degree .
Forget about the fact that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ response to the pandemic , more than 193,000 people in the US have died ; the real threats are protesters and poor people moving into lily-white enclaves in the suburbs .
Just over the weekend , days after claiming he wants to be the soother-in-chief , the Trump campaign sent out a text message to its supporters : Give us money , or antifa will attack your home .
Many critics have pointed out the absurdity of Trump claiming that he values calm .
Fox News host Chris Wallace pointed out the discrepancy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The president plays the panic card all the time , especially when he ’ s talking about Joe Biden , ” he told Trump adviser Steve Cortes .
What a delicate balance the president is striking by telling his base that they should absolutely panic about a Biden administration and low-income housing in their neighborhoods , while telling the rest of the people in America that the pandemic is nothing to worry about .
This all comes even as the United States has done a uniquely bad job handling the pandemic response , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ far and millions more facing economic devastation .
If spring was defined by shutdowns and restrictions , the fall has been focused on controlling the spread of the coronavirus in schools while still trying to keep them open .
Colleges have been forced to close their campuses because of outbreaks among students and staff .
Several teachers have died from COVID-19 .
But Trump demonizes the Democrats as he explains the reasons for school closures to his base : Meanwhile , many of his supporters continue to believe both his messages .
They @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was trafficking in February and March : The coronavirus isn ’ t really that serious .
We don ’ t need to wear masks .
Maybe the virus doesn ’ t even exist at all .
Millions of people around the world conspired to suffer and die just to make Trump look bad .
At the same time , supporters are panicking about what he tells them to .
In Missouri , a white suburban couple pointed guns at protesters—earning a star turn at the Republican National Convention several weeks later .
Earlier @ @ @ @ @ @ @ R-La . )
threatened to kill Black protesters .
As historic wildfires ravage Oregon and California , bogus lies about antifa starting the fires have spread just as quickly as the blaze .
According to the Washington Post , some Oregon residents were ignoring mandatory evacuations because they felt they needed to defend their homes from antifa .
They were taking their lead from a calm and collected president who inspired his supporters to do something so incredibly dangerous and dumb .
Instilling fear in his white base about completely empty theories while @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that could actually kill them requires shameless hypocrisy—again , an essential item in the Trump tool kit .
The white protester , Michael Reinoehl , who shot and killed a Trump supporter is a villain—and was later killed by law enforcement .
Trump described his death as “ retribution.
” Meanwhile , Trump defends Kyle Rittenhouse , who is charged with murdering two Black Lives Matter protesters .
When titrating his message of panic , Black Lives Matter protesters are rioters , looters , and thugs , but the armed white vigilantes terrorizing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s 2020 messaging is loud and clear : Don ’ t worry about white supremacists with guns or the pandemic .
After the Woodward interviews revealed that Trump downplaying the virus ’ severity wasn ’ t so much incompetence as it was almost criminal negligence , a media debate ensued concerning whether Woodward should have revealed the tapes sooner in order to save lives .
But in a political sense , some argued that it wouldn ’ t have made a difference at all in his polling .
Nothing seems to move @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
They ’ ve stuck by him for years , never letting the hypocrisy , lies , economic collapse , global pandemic , or scandal deter their devotion .
So , does it matter that the president is once again being a hypocrite ?
There ’ s a danger in dismissing this latest bold-faced lie .
If white fear and shameless hypocrisy were central to Trump ’ s first term and help him clinch another four years , imagine what he will do in the next round .

As we all know by now, excerpts from Bob Woodward’s new book, Rage, have revealed that President Trump knew a lot more about the seriousness of the coronavirus than he or his policies or his previous statements let on. As early as February 7, he told Woodward that the coronavirus was deadlier than the flu and was spread through the air. So, why did the president spend the previous six months downplaying the virus’ severity, urging reopening, and ridiculing the wearing of masks? Following Woodward’s revelations, while speaking at a packed rally in Michigan last week, Trump claimed that he was only doing the responsible presidential thing by lying about the virus, and that was keeping the nation calm. “They wanted me to come out and scream: People are dying,” the president said without a hint of irony to his adoring crowd. “No, I did it just the right way.”
Trump has come out and screamed “People are dying!” He does it all the time. He’s just not talking about the ones who actually are.
But that’s not based in reality. After all, Trump has come out and screamed “People are dying!” He does it all the time. He’s just not talking about the ones who actually are. Despite his reassurance that he’s been lying about the virus because he wanted to keep the American public calm, white panic has been the theme of Trump’s presidency from the moment he descended that golden escalator and announced his candidacy.
There appears to be nothing he likes better than to fan the flames around conspiracy theories, and his campaign has released several ads recently that show America burning, claiming that this is Joe Biden’s vision of the future. Remember he launched his campaign in late 2015 by calling Mexican immigrants rapists and criminals ready to cross the border en masse. After that strategy won him the White House, he spent his first term fear mongering about immigrants in caravans and Muslims on planes. And now that his second campaign is in its final weeks, and the president continues to trail Biden in the polls, he’s ramping up that fear-based message to an almost deafening degree. Forget about the fact that due in large part to his bungling response to the pandemic, more than 193,000 people in the US have died; the real threats are protesters and poor people moving into lily-white enclaves in the suburbs.
Just over the weekend, days after claiming he wants to be the soother-in-chief, the Trump campaign sent out a text message to its supporters: Give us money, or antifa will attack your home.
Tonight in Trump campaign texts pic.twitter.com/D1WuOtWaG8 — Dave Weigel (@daveweigel) September 12, 2020
Many critics have pointed out the absurdity of Trump claiming that he values calm. Fox News host Chris Wallace pointed out the discrepancy on his show on Sunday. “The president plays the panic card all the time, especially when he’s talking about Joe Biden,” he told Trump adviser Steve Cortes.
“There’s a difference,” Cortes claimed. “With Biden, there’s a legitimate fear.”
CHRIS WALLACE: You're saying Trump didn't want to panic people about Covid. But he plays the panic card about Biden all the time. Is that a POTUS who's trying to keep the country calm? TRUMP ADVISER STEVE CORTES: There's a difference. With Biden, there's a legitimate fear. pic.twitter.com/Dgk9OJf1Fh — Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) September 13, 2020
What a delicate balance the president is striking by telling his base that they should absolutely panic about a Biden administration and low-income housing in their neighborhoods, while telling the rest of the people in America that the pandemic is nothing to worry about.
This all comes even as the United States has done a uniquely bad job handling the pandemic response, leaving more than 6 million infected so far and millions more facing economic devastation. If spring was defined by shutdowns and restrictions, the fall has been focused on controlling the spread of the coronavirus in schools while still trying to keep them open. Colleges have been forced to close their campuses because of outbreaks among students and staff. Several teachers have died from COVID-19. But Trump demonizes the Democrats as he explains the reasons for school closures to his base:
Democrats, OPEN THE SCHOOLS ( SAFELY), NOW! When schools are closed, let the money follow the child (FAMILY). Why should schools be paid when they are closed? They shouldn’t! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) September 10, 2020
Meanwhile, many of his supporters continue to believe both his messages. They believe the so-called panic-controlling one that Trump was trafficking in February and March: The coronavirus isn’t really that serious. We don’t need to wear masks. Maybe the virus doesn’t even exist at all. Millions of people around the world conspired to suffer and die just to make Trump look bad.
At the same time, supporters are panicking about what he tells them to. In Missouri, a white suburban couple pointed guns at protesters—earning a star turn at the Republican National Convention several weeks later. Earlier this month, Rep. Clay Higgins (R-La.) threatened to kill Black protesters. As historic wildfires ravage Oregon and California, bogus lies about antifa starting the fires have spread just as quickly as the blaze. According to the Washington Post, some Oregon residents were ignoring mandatory evacuations because they felt they needed to defend their homes from antifa. They were taking their lead from a calm and collected president who inspired his supporters to do something so incredibly dangerous and dumb.
They were taking their lead from a calm and collected president who inspired his supporters to do something so incredibly dangerous and dumb.
Instilling fear in his white base about completely empty theories while also lying about the very real virus that could actually kill them requires shameless hypocrisy—again, an essential item in the Trump tool kit. The white protester, Michael Reinoehl, who shot and killed a Trump supporter is a villain—and was later killed by law enforcement. Trump described his death as “retribution.” Meanwhile, Trump defends Kyle Rittenhouse, who is charged with murdering two Black Lives Matter protesters. When titrating his message of panic, Black Lives Matter protesters are rioters, looters, and thugs, but the armed white vigilantes terrorizing them are simply patriotic Americans. Trump’s 2020 messaging is loud and clear: Don’t worry about white supremacists with guns or the pandemic.
After the Woodward interviews revealed that Trump downplaying the virus’ severity wasn’t so much incompetence as it was almost criminal negligence, a media debate ensued concerning whether Woodward should have revealed the tapes sooner in order to save lives. But in a political sense, some argued that it wouldn’t have made a difference at all in his polling. Nothing seems to move the needle on Trump for his base. They’ve stuck by him for years, never letting the hypocrisy, lies, economic collapse, global pandemic, or scandal deter their devotion. So, does it matter that the president is once again being a hypocrite? There’s a danger in dismissing this latest bold-faced lie. If white fear and shameless hypocrisy were central to Trump’s first term and help him clinch another four years, imagine what he will do in the next round.


motherjones--2020-09-14--The Seema Verma Scandal Shows How Republicans Exploit Modern Feminism

Last week , Congressional Democrats revealed that a senior Trump administration official had spent more than $ 3 million of taxpayer money on highly-paid Republican consultants to bolster her public image .
Seema Verma , who heads the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services , surrounded herself with an entourage of fixers to help sell her policies , write her speeches , and package her persona .
And the team , by exploiting loopholes in today ’ s mass-consumption feminism , specifically set out to build her a reputation as a badass woman .
The scandal is pretty typical for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its ranks with officials who have acted as if the public coffer was a piggy bank for their own personal benefit .
Examples range from the president ’ s own use of taxpayer dollars at his own properties to , inside his cabinet , flights on private jets , a $ 31,000 dining set , and a custom-built phone booth , among many others .
But Verma ’ s wielding of modern feminism sets her apart , and offers a clear demonstration of how Republicans have learned to promote GOP women who are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their policies—and of how thoroughly they have succeeded .
Some ten thousand pages of documents obtained by congressional investigators show that one of Verma ’ s top image-makers was Pamela Stevens , a longtime GOP communications consultant who specializes in getting Republican women favorable coverage in women ’ s magazines and blogs .
Stevens had a lot of ideas for how to penetrate the world of for-profit feminism , according to the records , proposing meetings with magazine editors from Woman ’ s Day , Women ’ s Health , and Glamour , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brand Girlboss , and the female-empowerment themed Maker ’ s Conference .
She wanted to put Verma in touch with a Washington Post reporter who she indicated “ writes a lot on Women ” and suggested Verma attend the Glamour “ Woman of the Year ” awards event and hob nob with its editor-in-chief .
Stevens collected $ 3,400 from taxpayers for arranging Verma ’ s appearance on Politico ’ s “ Women Rule ” podcast .
In the fall of 2018 , Stevens organized a “ Girl ’ s Night , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Verma ’ s honor at the home of USA Today journalist Susan Page .
Stevens described the event as a networking opportunity for Verma , and invited media personalities and other prominent women .
Taxpayers paid Stevens nearly $ 3,000 to organize it .
Page , the host , says she was unaware of the consultant fees .
She also spent $ 4,000 of her own money on catering the event , which , a USA Today spokesperson told Politico , was intended “ to honor women on both sides of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the event as “ well within the ethical standards that our journalists are expected to uphold.
” Ethically , though , hosting the event is a bad look for Page—who was just selected to moderate the vice presidential debate next month between Mike Pence and Kamala Harris—for journalism , and for women .
While “ Honoring women doing notable things , ” is the phrase the Page-defending spokesperson deployed to explain the event , the word “ notable ” does a lot of work and is worth a second look .
It confers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ praised or condemned , whether her work is doing good things or bad things .
It bestows praise on women doing anything prominent even when , in Verma ’ s case , that work is objectively bad for women .
As the head of CMS , Verma has spent nearly four years trying to kick people off of Medicaid .
A majority of Medicaid beneficiaries are women .
Women rely on Medicaid for family planning , maternity care , and long-term care .
Verma ’ s enthusiasm for eliminating the Affordable Care Act @ @ @ @ @ @ @ limiting Medicaid access for the unemployed , are policies that disproportionately hurt women .
But you can ’ t deny they are notable .
Stevens and Verma were taking advantage of a kind of modern , capitalist feminism in which individual womens ’ successes are rebranded as feminist triumphs , regardless of what they are .
Girlboss , one of the brands Stevens suggested Verma connect with , encapsulates this ethos .
It stems from fashion entrepreneur Sophia Amoruso ’ s 2014 memoir # Girlboss , in which she defined her own capitalist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Amoruso , former employees alleged , was not a good boss and her company declared bankruptcy .
Still , in 2017 she expanded # Girlboss into a new feminist-brand venture , hosting conferences where women network and take selfies under an ethos that foregrounds individual status as the ultimate feminist goal .
It ’ s a feminism reoriented from women ’ s collective equality toward personal achievement .
Verma , who was rising up the Republican ranks while pulling the social safety net out from under poor women , makes a perfect fit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will always , at its core , be at odds with feminism that prioritizes the collective , ” New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino wrote in her book Trick Mirror .
In it , Tolentino traces a warping of feminism that leads straight to Verma ’ s PR plan and similar abuses of feminism by women close to Trump .
It started as the internet democratized feminist takes , bringing cultural analysis from the ivory tower to the blogosphere .
This led to a “ seachange , ” Tolentino writes , in which women @ @ @ @ @ @ @ terms .
Feminist writers increasingly defended certain female celebrities , standing up for so-called “ difficult ” women whom society deemed aesthetically imperfect , selfish , or demanding—traits that men are rarely criticized for .
The assumption was that new freedoms to be difficult bestowed on famous women would trickle down , also freeing regular women from patriarchal expectations .
The urge to defend celebrity women , coupled with the capitalist vision of female success , became a savvy way for conservative women to define themselves in feminist terms .
As Tolentino explains @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ have benefited from the pop-feminist reflex of honoring women for achieving visibility and power , no matter how they did so.
” This reflex has led to multiple instances in which liberal feminists rush to the aid of Trump ’ s female enablers—Kellyanne Conway , Hope Hicks , Sarah Huckabee Sanders , Melania Trump , Ivanka Trump—because criticism targeting them triggered an automatic defense of a powerful woman , rather than a critique of how she got that power or what she does with it .
This Verma scandal is ultimately a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump administration corruption .
But it is a perfect illustration of how Republicans have learned to hack modern feminism .
If Verma is an example of girl power , the collective wellbeing of women is taking a backseat .

Fight disinformation: Sign up for the free Mother Jones Daily newsletter and follow the news that matters.
Last week, Congressional Democrats revealed that a senior Trump administration official had spent more than $3 million of taxpayer money on highly-paid Republican consultants to bolster her public image. Seema Verma, who heads the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, surrounded herself with an entourage of fixers to help sell her policies, write her speeches, and package her persona. And the team, by exploiting loopholes in today’s mass-consumption feminism, specifically set out to build her a reputation as a badass woman.
The scandal is pretty typical for the Trump administration, which has filled its ranks with officials who have acted as if the public coffer was a piggy bank for their own personal benefit. Examples range from the president’s own use of taxpayer dollars at his own properties to, inside his cabinet, flights on private jets, a $31,000 dining set, and a custom-built phone booth, among many others.
The women of the Trump administration “have benefited from the pop-feminist reflex of honoring women for achieving visibility and power, no matter how they did so.”
But Verma’s wielding of modern feminism sets her apart, and offers a clear demonstration of how Republicans have learned to promote GOP women who are also stabbing women in the back with their policies—and of how thoroughly they have succeeded.
Some ten thousand pages of documents obtained by congressional investigators show that one of Verma’s top image-makers was Pamela Stevens, a longtime GOP communications consultant who specializes in getting Republican women favorable coverage in women’s magazines and blogs. Stevens had a lot of ideas for how to penetrate the world of for-profit feminism, according to the records, proposing meetings with magazine editors from Woman’s Day, Women’s Health, and Glamour, along with representatives of People, the brand Girlboss, and the female-empowerment themed Maker’s Conference. She wanted to put Verma in touch with a Washington Post reporter who she indicated “writes a lot on Women” and suggested Verma attend the Glamour “Woman of the Year” awards event and hob nob with its editor-in-chief. Stevens collected $3,400 from taxpayers for arranging Verma’s appearance on Politico’s “Women Rule” podcast.
In the fall of 2018, Stevens organized a “Girl’s Night,” the records obtained by Congress show, in Verma’s honor at the home of USA Today journalist Susan Page. Stevens described the event as a networking opportunity for Verma, and invited media personalities and other prominent women. Taxpayers paid Stevens nearly $3,000 to organize it. Page, the host, says she was unaware of the consultant fees. She also spent $4,000 of her own money on catering the event, which, a USA Today spokesperson told Politico, was intended “to honor women on both sides of the aisle doing notable things,” describing the event as “well within the ethical standards that our journalists are expected to uphold.”
Ethically, though, hosting the event is a bad look for Page—who was just selected to moderate the vice presidential debate next month between Mike Pence and Kamala Harris—for journalism, and for women. While “Honoring women doing notable things,” is the phrase the Page-defending spokesperson deployed to explain the event, the word “notable” does a lot of work and is worth a second look. It confers status without signaling whether Verma should be praised or condemned, whether her work is doing good things or bad things. It bestows praise on women doing anything prominent even when, in Verma’s case, that work is objectively bad for women.
As the head of CMS, Verma has spent nearly four years trying to kick people off of Medicaid. A majority of Medicaid beneficiaries are women. Women rely on Medicaid for family planning, maternity care, and long-term care. Verma’s enthusiasm for eliminating the Affordable Care Act and, when that effort failed, limiting Medicaid access for the unemployed, are policies that disproportionately hurt women. But you can’t deny they are notable.
Stevens and Verma were taking advantage of a kind of modern, capitalist feminism in which individual womens’ successes are rebranded as feminist triumphs, regardless of what they are. Girlboss, one of the brands Stevens suggested Verma connect with, encapsulates this ethos. It stems from fashion entrepreneur Sophia Amoruso’s 2014 memoir #Girlboss, in which she defined her own capitalist success as the new feminism. But Amoruso, former employees alleged, was not a good boss and her company declared bankruptcy. Still, in 2017 she expanded #Girlboss into a new feminist-brand venture, hosting conferences where women network and take selfies under an ethos that foregrounds individual status as the ultimate feminist goal. It’s a feminism reoriented from women’s collective equality toward personal achievement. Verma, who was rising up the Republican ranks while pulling the social safety net out from under poor women, makes a perfect fit.
Verma rose up the Republican ranks while pulling the social safety net out from under poor women.
“Feminism that prioritizes the individual will always, at its core, be at odds with feminism that prioritizes the collective,” New Yorker writer Jia Tolentino wrote in her book Trick Mirror. In it, Tolentino traces a warping of feminism that leads straight to Verma’s PR plan and similar abuses of feminism by women close to Trump. It started as the internet democratized feminist takes, bringing cultural analysis from the ivory tower to the blogosphere. This led to a “seachange,” Tolentino writes, in which women began to understand their lives in feminist terms. Feminist writers increasingly defended certain female celebrities, standing up for so-called “difficult” women whom society deemed aesthetically imperfect, selfish, or demanding—traits that men are rarely criticized for. The assumption was that new freedoms to be difficult bestowed on famous women would trickle down, also freeing regular women from patriarchal expectations.
The urge to defend celebrity women, coupled with the capitalist vision of female success, became a savvy way for conservative women to define themselves in feminist terms. As Tolentino explains, the women of the Trump administration “have benefited from the pop-feminist reflex of honoring women for achieving visibility and power, no matter how they did so.” This reflex has led to multiple instances in which liberal feminists rush to the aid of Trump’s female enablers—Kellyanne Conway, Hope Hicks, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Melania Trump, Ivanka Trump—because criticism targeting them triggered an automatic defense of a powerful woman, rather than a critique of how she got that power or what she does with it.
This Verma scandal is ultimately a small footnote in the record-breaking annals of Trump administration corruption. But it is a perfect illustration of how Republicans have learned to hack modern feminism. If Verma is an example of girl power, the collective wellbeing of women is taking a backseat.


motherjones--2020-09-14--The Florida Teacher Who Didn’t Want to Cause People to Die

It absolutely was the failure in government to handle the pandemic that led to me quitting my job .
The pandemic was looking better in Florida early June .
Then that number started to rise , and it started looking really , really bad , really quickly .
And then Donald Trump tweeted .
He tweeted , “ Schools must open now.
” Within hours , our governor followed up with an executive order mandating that all brick-and-mortar school buildings open for classes five days a week , or else they ’ ll lose their state funding .
That was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ go back in the classroom , although at that point , because I ’ m at a private school , I wasn ’ t sure how impacted we would be .
Our local school district stands to lose $ 86 million .
But at our private school we didn ’ t know if we were taking any state funding at all .
I found out later that we were .
Although my school wasn ’ t going to be as financially impacted to the degree that the public school system is , because @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , every dollar counts .
I watched this evolve and watched our local school district just wring their hands .
Everybody said , “ I don ’ t want to do this , but there ’ s nothing we can do.
” It ’ s a really tough position to be in .
Everybody who is saying , “ I ’ m not going to do this , ” is essentially risking their jobs and their family ’ s livelihood and so few people can do that .
It ’ s just not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ take .
Our superintendent cried in our planning meeting and said , “ This is not my personal opinion , I ’ m just doing my job , writing a plan that will get approved by the state.
” Ultimately our local school district pushed back the school start date by three weeks but said that the reason for doing that was primarily to buy some time , in hopes that something might change that would allow schools to open remotely .
But now it ’ s looking like that ’ s not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ education , Richard Corcoran , has really doubled down on reopening schools .
He even told schools that just because you have a case of coronavirus in your school doesn ’ t mean you should shut down .
The biggest issue for me was my family ’ s health .
My daughter has asthma and my in-laws are in their 70s—we ’ re conscious of that every day because my husband works with his father .
So we were really worried about spreading the virus in our house .
No matter how many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ building , we can not control what these students and their families are doing outside of school hours .
But it also felt like a moral crisis .
I didn ’ t want to be part of the spread of this virus .
I don ’ t want any part in causing people to die , which I think is going happen because of the decision to open schools .
Even in moments where I was like , “ Well , maybe I won ’ t get sick .
Maybe I won ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” I felt like I was wishing for it to be someone else with terrible luck .
And I really couldn ’ t square that , either .
There were other things that led to my decision .
The school said they were not going to supply teachers with PPE .
They said we have to buy our own .
As for cleaning classrooms , they just said , “ Well you ’ ve got to figure out how to get your classroom wiped down in between classes.
” I thought , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” I hoped that I would feel relief .
On one hand , I did because I knew my family would be safe .
We would keep the kids home , and I could be home and we can wait this thing out .
But then there was the anxiety over money .
I worried that I actually miscalculated our funds .
I got nervous about what this would mean for my career .
If I decide that I do want to return to the classroom next year , will they say no @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my head .
So it was a mixed bag .
My husband , who has a ton of faith in me , talked about this idea I had of starting a tutoring business and helping kids with writing .
Once I decided I wasn ’ t going back , he was ready to start planning , like , “ Let ’ s start building your website right now.
” It ’ s nice to have somebody who believes in me .
But overall it didn ’ t feel like going out in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hard decision .
And it ’ s still hard .
I felt some doubt , but I feel really secure in the decision now that I ’ ve had a little bit of time .
I also wonder If I actually made a difference .
They hired someone to replace me , of course .
So it ’ s not like there ’ s going to be one less body in the building , one less person passing things around .
But at least I don ’ t have to watch people get @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I had a part in it , when I absolutely didn ’ t have to .
I recognize , of course , that lots of people absolutely do have to have a part in it .
And that ’ s agonizing .
The first thing I did when I quit was I reached out to my department right away .
And most of them were like , “ You were really brave , and I ’ m really proud of you.
” One of my administrators , privately , said the same thing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
And I ’ m super impressed with you for taking this step and doing what you knew was right.
” That did actually feel great , that other people in my school who may not have been in the same position to make the same decision as me , made me feel appreciated .
They didn ’ t feel like I was being disloyal .
My dad died recently .
And knowing he was alone , that no one could be with him—no one was allowed in the hospital—I don ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t die of COVID-19 , but he was alone because of it .
I don ’ t want anybody else to die alone .
I don ’ t want anybody else to have to say goodbye to their family members .
I was supposed to go see my dad in March , and I had to cancel because that was when everything was shutting down .
And I kept hoping everything would open back up and I ’ d have a chance to see him again before he died .
I never @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
I don ’ t want that for anyone .

Fight disinformation: Sign up for the free Mother Jones Daily newsletter and follow the news that matters.
We asked people who have quit since January 2020 how and why they did it. You can read more about the project and find every story here . Got your own quitting tale? Send us an email
Barbara McLain, 39 Started: August 3, 2015
Quit: July 30, 2020
Salary: $56,000 per year As told to Matt Cohen
It absolutely was the failure in government to handle the pandemic that led to me quitting my job. The pandemic was looking better in Florida early June. Then that number started to rise, and it started looking really, really bad, really quickly. And then Donald Trump tweeted. He tweeted, “Schools must open now.” Within hours, our governor followed up with an executive order mandating that all brick-and-mortar school buildings open for classes five days a week, or else they’ll lose their state funding.
That was my first inkling that I may not go back in the classroom, although at that point, because I’m at a private school, I wasn’t sure how impacted we would be. Our local school district stands to lose $86 million. But at our private school we didn’t know if we were taking any state funding at all. I found out later that we were. Although my school wasn’t going to be as financially impacted to the degree that the public school system is, because we’re just one little school, every dollar counts. I watched this evolve and watched our local school district just wring their hands. Everybody said, “I don’t want to do this, but there’s nothing we can do.”
It’s a really tough position to be in. Everybody who is saying, “I’m not going to do this,” is essentially risking their jobs and their family’s livelihood and so few people can do that. It’s just not a reasonable risk that most people can take. Our superintendent cried in our planning meeting and said, “This is not my personal opinion, I’m just doing my job, writing a plan that will get approved by the state.” Ultimately our local school district pushed back the school start date by three weeks but said that the reason for doing that was primarily to buy some time, in hopes that something might change that would allow schools to open remotely. But now it’s looking like that’s not going to happen. Our commissioner of education, Richard Corcoran, has really doubled down on reopening schools. He even told schools that just because you have a case of coronavirus in your school doesn’t mean you should shut down.
The biggest issue for me was my family’s health. My daughter has asthma and my in-laws are in their 70s—we’re conscious of that every day because my husband works with his father. So we were really worried about spreading the virus in our house. No matter how many safety precautions they take in our school building, we cannot control what these students and their families are doing outside of school hours. But it also felt like a moral crisis. I didn’t want to be part of the spread of this virus. I don’t want any part in causing people to die, which I think is going happen because of the decision to open schools. Even in moments where I was like, “Well, maybe I won’t get sick. Maybe I won’t pass it to my loved ones,” I felt like I was wishing for it to be someone else with terrible luck. And I really couldn’t square that, either.
There were other things that led to my decision. The school said they were not going to supply teachers with PPE. They said we have to buy our own. As for cleaning classrooms, they just said, “Well you’ve got to figure out how to get your classroom wiped down in between classes.” I thought, “I can’t do this.”
I hoped that I would feel relief. On one hand, I did because I knew my family would be safe. We would keep the kids home, and I could be home and we can wait this thing out. But then there was the anxiety over money. I worried that I actually miscalculated our funds. I got nervous about what this would mean for my career. If I decide that I do want to return to the classroom next year, will they say no? Those sorts of worries went through my head. So it was a mixed bag. My husband, who has a ton of faith in me, talked about this idea I had of starting a tutoring business and helping kids with writing. Once I decided I wasn’t going back, he was ready to start planning, like, “Let’s start building your website right now.” It’s nice to have somebody who believes in me.
But overall it didn’t feel like going out in a blaze of glory. It was a hard decision. And it’s still hard. I felt some doubt, but I feel really secure in the decision now that I’ve had a little bit of time. I also wonder If I actually made a difference. They hired someone to replace me, of course. So it’s not like there’s going to be one less body in the building, one less person passing things around. But at least I don’t have to watch people get sick and maybe die and know that I had a part in it, when I absolutely didn’t have to. I recognize, of course, that lots of people absolutely do have to have a part in it. And that’s agonizing.
The first thing I did when I quit was I reached out to my department right away. And most of them were like, “You were really brave, and I’m really proud of you.” One of my administrators, privately, said the same thing: “You’re really brave. And I’m super impressed with you for taking this step and doing what you knew was right.” That did actually feel great, that other people in my school who may not have been in the same position to make the same decision as me, made me feel appreciated. They didn’t feel like I was being disloyal.
My dad died recently. And knowing he was alone, that no one could be with him—no one was allowed in the hospital—I don’t wish that on anybody. He didn’t die of COVID-19, but he was alone because of it. I don’t want anybody else to die alone. I don’t want anybody else to have to say goodbye to their family members. I was supposed to go see my dad in March, and I had to cancel because that was when everything was shutting down. And I kept hoping everything would open back up and I’d have a chance to see him again before he died. I never did. I never saw him again. I don’t want that for anyone.


motherjones--2020-09-14--The Cross-Country Runner Fed Up With the NCAA’s Racist Exploitation

I actually haven ’ t gotten a lot of questions about my personal labor withholding .
I ’ m a cross-country runner , you know ?
[ Laughs ] I made the decision when we published the Players ’ Tribune piece to opt out .
I made my statement , right then and there .
I made my announcement on social media .
You know , I had a few teammates who were frustrated that I didn ’ t talk to them first before making the decision , which is fair .
I sent a long message to our team @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know how passionately I feel about these racial injustices , especially with everything happening .
You know me personally .
I don ’ t feel comfortable continuing to support this disgustingly racist institution , as a white male .
I sent a long message to the team .
Then I screenshotted that .
I sent it to my coach .
And he never responded .
Honestly , I haven ’ t talked to him since , which is a shame .
Because I love Bobby Lockhart .
He ’ s a great coach @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be one of the greatest coaches in cross country here in the next 10 to 15 years .
But Bobby ’ s also got a job to protect .
I don ’ t know that talking to me exactly fits in that description .
I ’ ve been running for the last 14 years of my life , essentially .
Your sport really becomes a central component of your identity and existence .
Everyone ’ s aware that it ends .
I ’ ve heard other athletes describe it as grief , like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so empty and lost when it ’ s gone .
Winning in that sport fuels your existence as a college athlete .
This feeling of being left behind is common .
And that ’ s how I felt .
I was completely unsure of how I would make money—well , I ’ m still pretty unsure of how I ’ m going to make money .
I think so many college athletes struggle to see how their skills , their work ethic , their identities as athletes translate to life after sport .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ with this system of exploitation .
Bottom line : Every single college athlete must sacrifice elements of their education to be college athletes .
It fundamentally goes against the rhetoric the NCAA spits—we ’ re compensating you with an education , and that ’ s “ priceless.
” But you ’ re not even giving us a real education .
Like , a real education .
You can ’ t join clubs .
You miss school .
How can you say school is more important if you miss school for sports ?
Oftentimes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ choice over what you study—particularly in football and basketball .
Athletes who are wholly unprepared for college end up at prestigious universities .
I ’ m a graduate tutor .
I ’ ve had to teach athletes how to write sentences .
Like , I ’ ve had to teach athletes what commas are .
I ’ ll say that Berkeley has the best tutoring system that exists in the country , because it ’ s external to the athletic department .
To give you a little insight into how tutoring works : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the athletic department .
It ’ s ludicrous .
If your job is on the line and someone ’ s boss is saying , “ Look , this guy ’ s got to stay eligible , I don ’ t really care what you do , ” and then you ’ re looking over and the kid ’ s not doing anything—you know you ’ re gon na just do the homework for them .
The academic fraud that persisted at UNC , I think , is not far from the reality of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s the shame .
That ’ s the disgusting shame that is not even remotely public .
The reality is that every college athlete has to sacrifice their education .
There was actually a paper published today , an economics paper that has really confirmed what Dr. Derek Van Rheenen and I and many others have been yelling for a long time : College sports disproportionately exploits Black football and basketball players from predominantly low-income socioeconomic households , while benefiting predominantly white athletes from higher-income socioeconomic backgrounds .
The racial divide in college @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But the lack of educational opportunities afforded to college athletes is , to me , the most sickening element of all of this .
So I made the decision to opt out in protest of the racial injustices of the country and specifically in protest of college sports , where predominantly young , Black football and basketball players are recruited and exploited for their athletic labor .
That ’ s what my decision revolved around .
In 2016 , when I was at Washington State , I had the opportunity to travel to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Student-Athlete Advisory Committee .
This was during the Black Lives Matter movement and Colin Kaepernick kneeling .
We had really honest and powerful conversations around this topic .
In all honesty , that was the first time I even learned that racism exists .
I was very privileged to grow up in an affluent , suburban community .
That privilege afforded me a phenomenal education and the opportunity to compete in such a leisurely activity at such a high level .
Following that conference , I was left shell-shocked by the realization that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from this privilege .
I was completely clueless to the racial injustices of our country due to the whitewashed education I ’ d received , and I was asking my peers , “ What can I do ?
What should I do ?
” And they just told me listen and use your platform of privilege to enact change .
And I said , “ OK , noted.
” When I came back to campus , our university president , Kirk Schulz , tweeted something like “ Going to the Pac-12 council meeting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ talk about ?
” I went to my email , and I typed in his email address , and then I sent him an email essentially saying : “ Hey , can you please discuss racism .
I know on our campus specifically , people do not feel—people of color , students of color , Black students—don ’ t feel safe or comfortable at this predominantly white institution.
” That was in part due to a Republican student group building a brick wall in the middle of campus and spray-painting “ TRUMP ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hateful messages at the rest of our community .
And the president did nothing .
He just said we can ’ t do anything because freedom of speech .
Ironically , this same institution , when they sit athletes down and show them compliance sideshows , says social media use is a privilege not a right .
And they even misspell “ privilege.
” Anyway , after that we had a conversation .
I pretty much told them what I think they should do .
They should start surveying campus to understand where @ @ @ @ @ @ @ students are at , with how they feel about the efforts and partner with the University of Washington on their racial injustice and equity effort .
They said great .
And then I never followed up , and I don ’ t think he did anything .
Talking to other students of color on campus and leaders of student groups , they told me that they had lots of meetings with him , and it just felt like he never listened .
To me , it felt like he did really listen .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ a change of heart .
It made me realize that was probably the first time a white student had said something like that to him .
That ’ s when I really became aware of the power of white privilege , and then as I started learning more .
I became SAAC president after that at Washington State .
I started to understand why this institution has been able to exploit our athletic labor for so long .
It started to make sense and really come together .
I applied to Berkeley and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ write my thesis on the systemic inequities of college sports to better understand how we can address them .
I was admitted to Berkeley .
After , I was on the phone with one of my favorite professors at Washington State—Scott Jedlicka , who taught sport ethics course that was quite enlightening—and we were just talking about Northwestern and why the union drive failed .
I started to suggest , “ What if there was some sort of , you know , not a real union , but a fake union or a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of athletes coming together to talk to each other seemed really powerful to me—standing up for something that they believed in .
Once I started studying labor law intently and working with other professors and just really just learning as much as I could from as many people as I could , it became abundantly clear just how flimsy and really antiquated this institution of amateurism is—and both how simple and how difficult it would be to dismantle .
Simple in the sense that if you just got every player to realize , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ power , we can just sit out , we can get whatever we want.
” That ’ s it .
Change happens that simply , as we saw when the Milwaukee Bucks chose to sit out .
College athletes have that same power .
But at the same time , there are a tremendous number of systemic inequities that enable the exploitation to continue and persist .
That ’ s the hill we ’ re climbing .
At Cal , I was offered the opportunity to represent every athlete at the Pac-12 council @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ll call it—the Student Athlete Leadership Team .
SALT representatives are chosen by their respective institutions .
They ’ re the voices of college athletes in the actual decision-making process .
At the Pac-12 council meeting , presidents of universities , athletic directors , faculty athletic representatives , and senior administrators convene to discuss all these issues .
When I went for Washington State—in Phoenix , at this luxurious resort with waterslides and margaritas upon check-in—Kate Fagan was talking about Madison Holleran dying by suicide , and what it meant to her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and I was looking around and saw a bunch of the athletic directors , and they were not actually paying attention .
That ’ s when it really became apparent to me that this is not changing from within .
When I got an offer to go to SALT for Cal , this came from Bobby Thompson , who is the director of student–athlete development .
Later he called me into his office .
He said , “ Yeah , the leadership team decided not to send you.
” This was their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thrower previously—they didn ’ t want to , quote–unquote , send another track athlete .
He then told me , “ They have never even cared who I chose.
” I was like , “ Well , who made this decision ?
” He said the SALT leadership team—which is the athletic director , university president , and others .
So , it became clear to me that the athletic director , Jim Knowlton , essentially made the decision to veto my spot .
I wasn ’ t even surprised that it happened @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
He knows where I stand on these issues .
I ’ ve been in these meetings with him .
He knows that I will say the truth .
On July 1 , I got a text intro to Valentino Daltoso .
I got on a call with Val and Jake Cuhran , and they told me they were frustrated with how COVID was being handled on their campus and other campuses and they wanted to release a statement in the Players ’ Tribune within a few days calling for change .
That @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from football players saying we deserve to get paid , essentially .
I told Daltso and Cuhran , look , you ’ ve got three distinct issues here .
You have COVID .
You have the racial injustices .
And you have economic injustices .
The solution to COVID is for the government to act appropriately .
The solution to the racial injustices is to be as loud as possible .
The solution to the economic injustices is to organize athletes behind a work stoppage .
I think we made that pretty clear @ @ @ @ @ @ @ any decisions throughout this whole process .
It was always the football players .
There wasn ’ t ever a leader .
Two or three days later , we had a Zoom meeting with two to three leaders from every school , just to talk about how we ’ re feeling about everything .
We had like 35 people on it .
And it was probably the most powerful Zoom of this entire movement because everyone felt the same way about—I don ’ t want to say issues because there are so many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ something needed to change .
I presented to them essentially what I ’ ve been working on for the last year .
I made the PowerPoint in like 15 minutes , essentially saying : Here ’ s the historical context of how the NCAA has been exploiting your athletic labor through amateurism ; here are the systemic inequities that have been preventing us from obtaining these economic rights ; here ’ s what I think the solution is .
And then we just started organizing .
There ’ s no doubt in my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and of itself .
That Zoom alone was already further than anyone had ever gotten .
I would have liked to known what my last race of college would have been .
I think I ended up going out on a 1,500 .
I ’ m a distance runner , so I shouldn ’ t even be running 1,500s .
Yeah , I think I went out finishing last place in a 1,500 .
It was the day after I broke up with my girlfriend .
I didn ’ t anticipate that being @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wasn ’ t an important race to begin with .
But it was kind of like , that ’ s it .

Fight disinformation: Sign up for the free Mother Jones Daily newsletter and follow the news that matters.
We asked people who have quit since January 2020 how and why they did it. You can read more about the project and find every story here . Got your own quitting tale? Send us an email
Andrew Cooper, 23 Position: Cross-country runner, Washington State University and the University of California, Berkeley
Started: August 2016
Quit: August 2020
Salary: $0 As told to Jacob Rosenberg
I actually haven’t gotten a lot of questions about my personal labor withholding. I’m a cross-country runner, you know? [Laughs]
I made the decision when we published the Players’ Tribune piece to opt out. I made my statement, right then and there. I made my announcement on social media.
As a Pac-12 athlete on the track/xc team at Cal Berkeley, I’m proud to be a member of the college athlete community — though these injustices must be addressed with systemic reform that benefit all athletes. Until then, I’m opting out of the fall season ✊🏼 #WeAreUnited https://t.co/cJSudj8jtc pic.twitter.com/0v6UiBQ39W — Andrew Cooper (@RunAndrewCooper) August 2, 2020
You know, I had a few teammates who were frustrated that I didn’t talk to them first before making the decision, which is fair. I sent a long message to our team. I just said, you guys know how passionately I feel about these racial injustices, especially with everything happening. You know me personally. I don’t feel comfortable continuing to support this disgustingly racist institution, as a white male. I sent a long message to the team. Then I screenshotted that. I sent it to my coach. And he never responded. Honestly, I haven’t talked to him since, which is a shame. Because I love Bobby Lockhart. He’s a great coach. I believe that Bobby Lockhart will be one of the greatest coaches in cross country here in the next 10 to 15 years. But Bobby’s also got a job to protect. I don’t know that talking to me exactly fits in that description.
I’ve been running for the last 14 years of my life, essentially. Your sport really becomes a central component of your identity and existence. Everyone’s aware that it ends. I’ve heard other athletes describe it as grief, like something has died. You just feel so empty and lost when it’s gone. Winning in that sport fuels your existence as a college athlete. This feeling of being left behind is common. And that’s how I felt. I was completely unsure of how I would make money—well, I’m still pretty unsure of how I’m going to make money. I think so many college athletes struggle to see how their skills, their work ethic, their identities as athletes translate to life after sport.
This has always been my biggest frustration with this system of exploitation. Bottom line: Every single college athlete must sacrifice elements of their education to be college athletes. It fundamentally goes against the rhetoric the NCAA spits—we’re compensating you with an education, and that’s “priceless.” But you’re not even giving us a real education. Like, a real education. You can’t join clubs. You miss school. How can you say school is more important if you miss school for sports? Oftentimes you don’t have control or choice over what you study—particularly in football and basketball. Athletes who are wholly unprepared for college end up at prestigious universities.
I’m a graduate tutor. I’ve had to teach athletes how to write sentences. Like, I’ve had to teach athletes what commas are. I’ll say that Berkeley has the best tutoring system that exists in the country, because it’s external to the athletic department. To give you a little insight into how tutoring works: Everywhere else the tutors are paid by the athletic department. It’s ludicrous. If your job is on the line and someone’s boss is saying, “Look, this guy’s got to stay eligible, I don’t really care what you do,” and then you’re looking over and the kid’s not doing anything—you know you’re gonna just do the homework for them. The academic fraud that persisted at UNC, I think, is not far from the reality of many of these institutions. That’s the shame. That’s the disgusting shame that is not even remotely public. The reality is that every college athlete has to sacrifice their education.
There was actually a paper published today, an economics paper that has really confirmed what Dr. Derek Van Rheenen and I and many others have been yelling for a long time: College sports disproportionately exploits Black football and basketball players from predominantly low-income socioeconomic households, while benefiting predominantly white athletes from higher-income socioeconomic backgrounds. The racial divide in college sports can’t be ignored. But the lack of educational opportunities afforded to college athletes is, to me, the most sickening element of all of this.
So I made the decision to opt out in protest of the racial injustices of the country and specifically in protest of college sports, where predominantly young, Black football and basketball players are recruited and exploited for their athletic labor. That’s what my decision revolved around.
In 2016, when I was at Washington State, I had the opportunity to travel to San Francisco to participate in the Pac-12 Student-Athlete Advisory Committee. This was during the Black Lives Matter movement and Colin Kaepernick kneeling. We had really honest and powerful conversations around this topic. In all honesty, that was the first time I even learned that racism exists. I was very privileged to grow up in an affluent, suburban community. That privilege afforded me a phenomenal education and the opportunity to compete in such a leisurely activity at such a high level.
Following that conference, I was left shell-shocked by the realization that I was a white male benefiting tremendously from this privilege. I was completely clueless to the racial injustices of our country due to the whitewashed education I’d received, and I was asking my peers, “What can I do? What should I do?” And they just told me listen and use your platform of privilege to enact change. And I said, “OK, noted.”
When I came back to campus, our university president, Kirk Schulz, tweeted something like “Going to the Pac-12 council meeting, anything you guys want me to talk about?” I went to my email, and I typed in his email address, and then I sent him an email essentially saying: “Hey, can you please discuss racism. I know on our campus specifically, people do not feel—people of color, students of color, Black students—don’t feel safe or comfortable at this predominantly white institution.” That was in part due to a Republican student group building a brick wall in the middle of campus and spray-painting “TRUMP” on it. White students just spit hateful messages at the rest of our community. And the president did nothing. He just said we can’t do anything because freedom of speech. Ironically, this same institution, when they sit athletes down and show them compliance sideshows, says social media use is a privilege not a right. And they even misspell “privilege.”
Anyway, after that we had a conversation. I pretty much told them what I think they should do. They should start surveying campus to understand where we’re at, where Black students are at, with how they feel about the efforts and partner with the University of Washington on their racial injustice and equity effort. They said great. And then I never followed up, and I don’t think he did anything. Talking to other students of color on campus and leaders of student groups, they told me that they had lots of meetings with him, and it just felt like he never listened. To me, it felt like he did really listen. And it seemed like he almost had a change of heart. It made me realize that was probably the first time a white student had said something like that to him. That’s when I really became aware of the power of white privilege, and then as I started learning more.
I became SAAC president after that at Washington State. I started to understand why this institution has been able to exploit our athletic labor for so long. It started to make sense and really come together. I applied to Berkeley and Stanford with the idea that I would write my thesis on the systemic inequities of college sports to better understand how we can address them. I was admitted to Berkeley. After, I was on the phone with one of my favorite professors at Washington State—Scott Jedlicka, who taught sport ethics course that was quite enlightening—and we were just talking about Northwestern and why the union drive failed. I started to suggest, “What if there was some sort of, you know, not a real union, but a fake union or a showing of solidarity.” Just the idea of athletes coming together to talk to each other seemed really powerful to me—standing up for something that they believed in.
Once I started studying labor law intently and working with other professors and just really just learning as much as I could from as many people as I could, it became abundantly clear just how flimsy and really antiquated this institution of amateurism is—and both how simple and how difficult it would be to dismantle. Simple in the sense that if you just got every player to realize, “Oh, we have all the power, we can just sit out, we can get whatever we want.” That’s it. Change happens that simply, as we saw when the Milwaukee Bucks chose to sit out. College athletes have that same power. But at the same time, there are a tremendous number of systemic inequities that enable the exploitation to continue and persist. That’s the hill we’re climbing.
At Cal, I was offered the opportunity to represent every athlete at the Pac-12 council meeting, or SALT, as they’ll call it—the Student Athlete Leadership Team. SALT representatives are chosen by their respective institutions. They’re the voices of college athletes in the actual decision-making process. At the Pac-12 council meeting, presidents of universities, athletic directors, faculty athletic representatives, and senior administrators convene to discuss all these issues. When I went for Washington State—in Phoenix, at this luxurious resort with waterslides and margaritas upon check-in—Kate Fagan was talking about Madison Holleran dying by suicide, and what it meant to her. All the athletes were practically crying, and I was looking around and saw a bunch of the athletic directors, and they were not actually paying attention. That’s when it really became apparent to me that this is not changing from within.
When I got an offer to go to SALT for Cal, this came from Bobby Thompson, who is the director of student–athlete development. Later he called me into his office. He said, “Yeah, the leadership team decided not to send you.” This was their reasoning: They had sent a hammer thrower previously—they didn’t want to, quote–unquote, send another track athlete. He then told me, “They have never even cared who I chose.” I was like, “Well, who made this decision?” He said the SALT leadership team—which is the athletic director, university president, and others. So, it became clear to me that the athletic director, Jim Knowlton, essentially made the decision to veto my spot.
I wasn’t even surprised that it happened. Jim Knowlton knows who I am. He knows where I stand on these issues. I’ve been in these meetings with him. He knows that I will say the truth.
On July 1, I got a text intro to Valentino Daltoso. I got on a call with Val and Jake Cuhran, and they told me they were frustrated with how COVID was being handled on their campus and other campuses and they wanted to release a statement in the Players’ Tribune within a few days calling for change. That day I saw a bunch of tweets from football players saying we deserve to get paid, essentially. I told Daltso and Cuhran, look, you’ve got three distinct issues here. You have COVID. You have the racial injustices. And you have economic injustices. The solution to COVID is for the government to act appropriately. The solution to the racial injustices is to be as loud as possible. The solution to the economic injustices is to organize athletes behind a work stoppage. I think we made that pretty clear in our demands. I never made any decisions throughout this whole process. It was always the football players. There wasn’t ever a leader.
Two or three days later, we had a Zoom meeting with two to three leaders from every school, just to talk about how we’re feeling about everything. We had like 35 people on it. And it was probably the most powerful Zoom of this entire movement because everyone felt the same way about—I don’t want to say issues because there are so many issues—but everyone felt voiceless and felt that something needed to change.
I presented to them essentially what I’ve been working on for the last year. I made the PowerPoint in like 15 minutes, essentially saying: Here’s the historical context of how the NCAA has been exploiting your athletic labor through amateurism; here are the systemic inequities that have been preventing us from obtaining these economic rights; here’s what I think the solution is. And then we just started organizing. There’s no doubt in my mind—that was a historical Zoom call in and of itself. That Zoom alone was already further than anyone had ever gotten.
I would have liked to known what my last race of college would have been. I think I ended up going out on a 1,500. I’m a distance runner, so I shouldn’t even be running 1,500s. Yeah, I think I went out finishing last place in a 1,500. It was the day after I broke up with my girlfriend. I didn’t anticipate that being my last race ever. It just wasn’t an important race to begin with. But it was kind of like, that’s it.


motherjones--2020-09-14--“I Should Not Be a Pawn in a Game”: 9 Workers Explain Why They Quit in Protest in the Middle of a Pl

“I Should Not Be a Pawn in a Game”: 9 Workers Explain Why They Quit in Protest in the Middle of a Plague

I did have my worries throughout the summer .
I was kind of having anxiety upon coming back .
Then my dad ended up catching COVID in June .
He was basically the head of custodians .
If something broke in your school , he was the go-to guy .
I had even talked prior to him getting sick and told him : “ You can quit your job , you ’ re always in pain .
We will take care of you.
” We almost had him until they told him , “ You can come to work , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” And once he heard overtime , he ended up going back to work .
That was him .
He was just this really strong-headed guy .
He was working all the time .
I mean , he was always in pain .
He had multiple shoulder surgeries , his meniscus replaced .
But he still worked hard for my mom , for us , to get anything that we needed .
He was the “ give you the shirt off his back ” kind of person .
And no sooner than he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just like , oh , he got sick .
We ’ re not going to say he got sick at school .
I don ’ t think he got it from there .
He was the one who did everything—the one going grocery shopping , the one going out and making sure we had all the stuff we needed .
So if anything he may have caught it at the grocery store .
Unfortunately , you know , he got exposed .
How ?
We ’ ll never know .
He told his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ told him to go home and get better , and he never did .
He ended up going to the hospital .
I happened to be there because I was having dehydration issues unrelated to COVID .
But to see him , it was like night and day .
I have never seen him that weak in my whole entire life .
He looked like some old man hunched over in this wheelchair .
And he told me , “ I don ’ t know what ’ s wrong , and I feel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” I was helping him , and I was massaging him , and I ’ m just like , oh my god , like it ’ s a reality—he may not make it .
His case was so severe that he had to only be on his belly .
He was saying : “ I can ’ t breathe .
I can ’ t .
I ’ m tired .
I can ’ t catch my breath .
I don ’ t feel right.
” They tried plasma .
They tried the experimental @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work .
I even asked the nurse .
I ’ m like , “ Is there anything we can do ?
” And she ’ s just like , “ No , the most we can do is just make him comfortable.
” Even when she said that , it doesn ’ t hit me .
It hit me that he was going to die , and I had to be the one there to see if they let me in .
They kept resuscitating him because he wanted to be resuscitated .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ mom screaming , “ We can ’ t keep doing this.
” Once I got there , I had to be the one to tell them to stop .
And I struggle with that .
I told them to kill him .
We did the right thing , but it doesn ’ t make me feel better .
It feels like we ’ re all lost because he was always in charge .
He knew what to do .
That ’ s why I ’ m so upset about my school .
If @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ll never know .
And for you to be willing to put anybody and everybody through it ?
You don ’ t know what it felt to be the one who has to call my whole entire family and be like , Dad passed .
I ’ ve already lost four people in my family—my cousin and my aunt , they passed away from COVID—in not even two months .
It ’ s just , boom , boom , boom .
So on August 17 , I went to my classroom at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ next school year would go .
The school ’ s philosophy was that people go to an office to work , so we had to be at school for the virtual meeting .
My room was bare except for the Hello Kitty decorations I left up on the wall near the end of the school year .
We welcomed students with pink bows for girls and blue bows for boys , with their names on the Hello Kitty faces .
I called them with concerns like , “ Hey , this is close @ @ @ @ @ @ @ concerned about my safety .
Obviously this is nothing to mess around with .
It has killed somebody in my family .
This is very alarming .
So what are you going to do about our safety ?
” And so , I had called my principal , and I asked her , “ What are y ’ all doing as far as gear , like PPE ?
” I said , “ Because nurses and doctors have gowns , booties , face shields , masks , like everything , and they ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are you doing for us ?
” “ Oh , well , I don ’ t know .
I don ’ t know the answer to that question right now.
” Doctors and nurses are doing everything they can to try to mitigate the spread .
You ’ re just saying , “ Oh , you ’ ll be fine.
” Just wearing a mask is not going to be enough .
I have diabetes .
I ’ m a little overweight .
You have a plan in place , but you ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ masks , and that ’ s it .
You already had COVID cases during the summer .
You ’ re asking for us to not only come in as a hybrid , but you ’ re asking us to stay for like 10 hours a day .
Our charter school goes from 7:45 in the morning till about 5:30 in the afternoon , with a mandatory after-school program , which is intended to help students succeed on state assessment exams .
So not only are you mandating us to stay until 5:30 , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ kids in our classrooms to be here until 5:30 .
So you ’ re having this in an enclosed space for more than 10 hours with literally just a mask .
With nurses , they are at least rotating through patients , but they ’ re still getting a cold and getting sick .
I ’ m just like , look , they ’ re offering children the option that once they get exposed they can switch to virtual .
Okay , if you ’ re giving the option to a child , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have that option if we were to be exposed ?
We should have the choice on whether or not we want to do hybrid .
To them that one is a non-negotiable , it doesn ’ t matter what my opinion is .
It ’ s really like , you either work or you go .
That ’ s what you ’ ve got to be telling us—that we ’ re expendable .
But not children .
And don ’ t get me wrong , I ’ m not saying children are expendable @ @ @ @ @ @ @ matter .
We should all have the options to still function and make money .
You ’ re asking teachers to not only take that risk but to potentially be in the hospital—accruing that much money in debt .
It ’ s like , you want me to risk my life , for nothing , like you ’ re not even going to pay me nothing .
But a child gets to have that option .
To me , it ’ s not entirely fair .
I love children .
I wouldn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t .
But I should not be a pawn in a game , just for them to have money coming in based on the head of a child and not an employee .
At the end of the day , it all boils down to funding .
The more children they can have to come to the school , the more money they get .
So an employee is expendable .
You know , that ’ s basically what you ’ re telling me .
For me to be in that situation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ exposed and bringing that to my mother—I can ’ t lose both my parents .
I can ’ t do that .
All this together made me realize , this is not worth it .
I understand we all have a job to do .
I know that nurses are taking a huge risk to take care of patients .
But as a teacher , I signed up to teach you .
This is my job .
It ’ s not to be someone who has to be exposed all the time .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ are ways to do it .
There was absolutely no way I could , in good conscience , go into school with just a mask .
You know , give me the option to wear at least a facial shield or something .
They told me , “ We don ’ t want to scare children.
” I understand you don ’ t want to scare children .
But this is a very serious situation .
They shouldn ’ t be scared , but I ’ m scared .
The rest of my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ honest to God , I had an upper respiratory infection five times .
How the hell are you going to tell me that by wearing a mask and having hand sanitizer that I ’ m not going to get anything at all ?
I wiped everything down .
I had sprays and hand sanitizer in my room .
I ’ m hoping that their plan does work .
Because at the end of the day , I don ’ t want kids to die .
I don ’ t want adults to die @ @ @ @ @ @ @ did not seem enough because if nurses and doctors are wearing all of this whole protection , and they ’ re still getting sick , you ’ re not even offering that .
That was my question : Can I wear a gown , a hair net , gloves , booties , anything that would at least give me a layer of protection so that I ’ m not taking particles home with me and introducing them into a whole new atmosphere ?
And their response was , well , we don ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the meeting , I got my work computer and my work phone and stuck them in my backpack .
I was furious .
I got into my car , went home , and tried my best to clear everything before giving it back to them .
My principal was blowing me up .
I said , “ I am clearing my computer , and I ’ m clearing my phone , and I ’ m bringing them to you.
” She ’ s just like , “ Okay , ” and she hung @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the front office and asked for the HR person because I was not going to leave there without my service records showing that I had spent four years there .
I met with HR , and my literal last words were , “ I quit because four people in my family passed away , and I ’ m not about to be the next one.
” And I left and literally walked out the building .
As soon as I walked out , I felt a huge load just drop .
I literally @ @ @ @ @ @ @ try to stop me .
They didn ’ t say like , “ Oh , we need you.
” Nothing .
I went home and told my mom and sister I ’ d quit .
My mom was asking me what happened , and I let them hear the recording of the meeting .
And that ’ s when I asked , “ Did I make the right decision ?
” And they both were just like , “ Fuck yeah , you did .
Listen to them .
They ’ re laughing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you ’ re getting—the anonymous messages .
Of course you did the right thing.
” My father Luis was a little pain in the ass , but he was a good pain in the ass .
He was very direct .
I got a lot of that from him .
We would always butt heads .
He and my mom were very open-minded .
They raised me to be very independent .
I would always work with my dad , and do a little bit of construction .
He was the genius who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how much square footage It was .
The dude could build and do great , amazing work .
He was an artist in his own right .
He could make beautiful things .
He had just turned 60 in February , you know .
I thought it would be really cool to have like a ’ 60s theme party .
I researched because I didn ’ t want to culturally appropriate .
We had a lot of decorations , afro centerpieces , photo frames with marijuana leaves , a DJ , and a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it .
It was a surprise party for him .
For me , it was something that I really , truly wanted to do for him because he never , never wanted parties .
I just remember looking at him .
He was sitting with my grandparents , my mom , and my aunt .
They were just talking , and he actually said that , for the first time in a long time , he ’ d had a beer .
He was relaxed , and his face was full of joy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ He didn ’ t really say too much , but I knew in my heart of hearts , he loved it .
It was a really good memory to be left with .

We asked people who have quit since January 2020 how and why they did it.. You can read more about the project and find every story here . Got your own quitting tale? Send us an email
Cristine Jasso, 35 Position: Fifth-grade teacher, Houston Gateway Academy
Started: August 2016
Quit: August 17, 2020
Salary: $57,000 per year As told to Edwin Rios
I did have my worries throughout the summer. I was kind of having anxiety upon coming back. Then my dad ended up catching COVID in June.
He was basically the head of custodians. If something broke in your school, he was the go-to guy. I had even talked prior to him getting sick and told him: “You can quit your job, you’re always in pain. We will take care of you.” We almost had him until they told him, “You can come to work, and we’ll give you overtime.” And once he heard overtime, he ended up going back to work. That was him.
He was just this really strong-headed guy. He was working all the time. I mean, he was always in pain. He had multiple shoulder surgeries, his meniscus replaced. But he still worked hard for my mom, for us, to get anything that we needed. He was the “give you the shirt off his back” kind of person.
And no sooner than he went back to work, it was just like, oh, he got sick. We’re not going to say he got sick at school. I don’t think he got it from there. He was the one who did everything—the one going grocery shopping, the one going out and making sure we had all the stuff we needed. So if anything he may have caught it at the grocery store. Unfortunately, you know, he got exposed. How? We’ll never know.
He told his boss he felt sick, and they told him to go home and get better, and he never did. He ended up going to the hospital. I happened to be there because I was having dehydration issues unrelated to COVID. But to see him, it was like night and day. I have never seen him that weak in my whole entire life. He looked like some old man hunched over in this wheelchair. And he told me, “I don’t know what’s wrong, and I feel like shit, I’m hurting.” I was helping him, and I was massaging him, and I’m just like, oh my god, like it’s a reality—he may not make it.
His case was so severe that he had to only be on his belly. He was saying: “I can’t breathe. I can’t. I’m tired. I can’t catch my breath. I don’t feel right.” They tried plasma. They tried the experimental drugs, and that didn’t work. I even asked the nurse. I’m like, “Is there anything we can do?” And she’s just like, “No, the most we can do is just make him comfortable.” Even when she said that, it doesn’t hit me. It hit me that he was going to die, and I had to be the one there to see if they let me in.
They kept resuscitating him because he wanted to be resuscitated. The doctors kept calling me and my mom screaming, “We can’t keep doing this.” Once I got there, I had to be the one to tell them to stop. And I struggle with that. I told them to kill him. We did the right thing, but it doesn’t make me feel better.
It feels like we’re all lost because he was always in charge. He knew what to do.
That’s why I’m so upset about my school. If you don’t know, you’ll never know. And for you to be willing to put anybody and everybody through it? You don’t know what it felt to be the one who has to call my whole entire family and be like, Dad passed. I’ve already lost four people in my family—my cousin and my aunt, they passed away from COVID—in not even two months. It’s just, boom, boom, boom.
So on August 17, I went to my classroom at Houston Gateway Academy to see how the next school year would go. The school’s philosophy was that people go to an office to work, so we had to be at school for the virtual meeting. My room was bare except for the Hello Kitty decorations I left up on the wall near the end of the school year. We welcomed students with pink bows for girls and blue bows for boys, with their names on the Hello Kitty faces.
I called them with concerns like, “Hey, this is close to home. I’m very concerned about my safety. Obviously this is nothing to mess around with. It has killed somebody in my family. This is very alarming. So what are you going to do about our safety?” And so, I had called my principal, and I asked her, “What are y’all doing as far as gear, like PPE?” I said, “Because nurses and doctors have gowns, booties, face shields, masks, like everything, and they’re still getting sick. So what are you doing for us?” “Oh, well, I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to that question right now.”
Doctors and nurses are doing everything they can to try to mitigate the spread. You’re just saying, “Oh, you’ll be fine.” Just wearing a mask is not going to be enough. I have diabetes. I’m a little overweight. You have a plan in place, but you’re saying only that you are mandating masks, and that’s it.
You already had COVID cases during the summer. You’re asking for us to not only come in as a hybrid, but you’re asking us to stay for like 10 hours a day. Our charter school goes from 7:45 in the morning till about 5:30 in the afternoon, with a mandatory after-school program, which is intended to help students succeed on state assessment exams. So not only are you mandating us to stay until 5:30, but you’re also mandating the kids in our classrooms to be here until 5:30. So you’re having this in an enclosed space for more than 10 hours with literally just a mask. With nurses, they are at least rotating through patients, but they’re still getting a cold and getting sick.
I’m just like, look, they’re offering children the option that once they get exposed they can switch to virtual. Okay, if you’re giving the option to a child, why don’t we teachers also have that option if we were to be exposed? We should have the choice on whether or not we want to do hybrid. To them that one is a non-negotiable, it doesn’t matter what my opinion is. It’s really like, you either work or you go. That’s what you’ve got to be telling us—that we’re expendable. But not children. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying children are expendable. Nobody should be. We all matter. We should all have the options to still function and make money. You’re asking teachers to not only take that risk but to potentially be in the hospital—accruing that much money in debt. It’s like, you want me to risk my life, for nothing, like you’re not even going to pay me nothing. But a child gets to have that option. To me, it’s not entirely fair. I love children. I wouldn’t be a teacher if I didn’t. But I should not be a pawn in a game, just for them to have money coming in based on the head of a child and not an employee. At the end of the day, it all boils down to funding. The more children they can have to come to the school, the more money they get. So an employee is expendable. You know, that’s basically what you’re telling me.
For me to be in that situation, with going to work and being exposed and bringing that to my mother—I can’t lose both my parents. I can’t do that.
All this together made me realize, this is not worth it. I understand we all have a job to do. I know that nurses are taking a huge risk to take care of patients. But as a teacher, I signed up to teach you. This is my job. It’s not to be someone who has to be exposed all the time. We can do it safely. There are ways to do it.
There was absolutely no way I could, in good conscience, go into school with just a mask. You know, give me the option to wear at least a facial shield or something. They told me, “We don’t want to scare children.” I understand you don’t want to scare children. But this is a very serious situation. They shouldn’t be scared, but I’m scared. The rest of my colleagues are scared. Last year, honest to God, I had an upper respiratory infection five times. How the hell are you going to tell me that by wearing a mask and having hand sanitizer that I’m not going to get anything at all? I wiped everything down. I had sprays and hand sanitizer in my room.
I’m hoping that their plan does work. Because at the end of the day, I don’t want kids to die. I don’t want adults to die. But to me, it just did not seem enough because if nurses and doctors are wearing all of this whole protection, and they’re still getting sick, you’re not even offering that. That was my question: Can I wear a gown, a hair net, gloves, booties, anything that would at least give me a layer of protection so that I’m not taking particles home with me and introducing them into a whole new atmosphere? And their response was, well, we don’t want to scare children.
After the meeting, I got my work computer and my work phone and stuck them in my backpack. I was furious. I got into my car, went home, and tried my best to clear everything before giving it back to them. My principal was blowing me up. I said, “I am clearing my computer, and I’m clearing my phone, and I’m bringing them to you.” She’s just like, “Okay,” and she hung up on me. I went to the front office and asked for the HR person because I was not going to leave there without my service records showing that I had spent four years there. I met with HR, and my literal last words were, “I quit because four people in my family passed away, and I’m not about to be the next one.” And I left and literally walked out the building. As soon as I walked out, I felt a huge load just drop. I literally felt freedom. Not once did they try to stop me. They didn’t say like, “Oh, we need you.” Nothing.
I went home and told my mom and sister I’d quit. My mom was asking me what happened, and I let them hear the recording of the meeting. And that’s when I asked, “Did I make the right decision?” And they both were just like, “Fuck yeah, you did. Listen to them. They’re laughing at you. Look at the responses you’re getting—the anonymous messages. Of course you did the right thing.”
I have no regrets.
My father Luis was a little pain in the ass, but he was a good pain in the ass. He was very direct. I got a lot of that from him. We would always butt heads. He and my mom were very open-minded. They raised me to be very independent. I would always work with my dad, and do a little bit of construction. He was the genius who could look at a room and know how much square footage It was. The dude could build and do great, amazing work. He was an artist in his own right. He could make beautiful things.
He had just turned 60 in February, you know. I thought it would be really cool to have like a ’60s theme party. I researched because I didn’t want to culturally appropriate. We had a lot of decorations, afro centerpieces, photo frames with marijuana leaves, a DJ, and a tie-dye cake with a smiley face on it. It was a surprise party for him. For me, it was something that I really, truly wanted to do for him because he never, never wanted parties.
I just remember looking at him. He was sitting with my grandparents, my mom, and my aunt. They were just talking, and he actually said that, for the first time in a long time, he’d had a beer. He was relaxed, and his face was full of joy. And it meant a lot. He didn’t really say too much, but I knew in my heart of hearts, he loved it. It was a really good memory to be left with.