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Its my beautiful Appalachia, too, and I want to re-imagine it safe, black, and queer.

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I live in the thick of Appalachia. Whats beneath this sun here? A local auto parts store, ferocious trees, nearby trails, plenty of lakes, and a vast sky. We are a small town just above the cut of the coal mining district. Its a majority white town, about 97 percent with, surprisingly, a black mayor. I see him during Sundays service at the towns only black church. I hug him and ask if hes building us a movie theater or underground monorail this year. He asks if I would want to run for the infamous school board.

Im fearful to live in Appalachia sometimes. Simple rural imagery can be beautifully treacherouslike a child propped in the flatbed of a truck, eating ice cream, inhaling the saltire of the Confederate battle flag from his T-shirt. A Blue Lives Matter flag flaps behind me across the local fire department. Not too far from my home, dipping into the state of West Virginia is a sign that shouts White Lives Matter. The list of Ten Commandments are displayed across businesses and landmarks. Across the street from my home is a barbershop door masked in Bible verses, gun idioms, and a meaty sign that always stings me: The Silent Majority Support Trump. Oppression and silence are wickedly evil bedfellows, and although I carry faith, I curdle at its manmade kinship to governance, marginalization, and guns. But I live in this beautiful thicket, and I walk outside black, beautiful, and queer. It was the Black Lives Matter movement that helped get me to this place.

Several years ago, I read a story about a man being lynched in Georgia from Debra Walker Kings work, African-Americans and the Culture of Pain. For a time, the winds carried the flames and smoke directly in his face so that he could not speak. Later the winds shifted and members of the mob, unaffected, recognized the hymn he sang as Nearer My God To Thee. At the time, that story lodged itself into my throat. When I went hiking, every tree, bulbous with strong branches, became a depraved site of lynching. I couldnt see innocuous beauty or my black joy in terraform.

KIMBERLY WILLIAMS

How Black Lives Matter Gave One Black, Queer Woman the Confidence to Be Visible in Appalachia

EVAN URQUHART

After Transitioning, I Want to Blend In. But My Lesbian Wife Still Wants to Be Out.

NATHANIEL FRANK

The Left Loves Visibility PoliticsEven When It Gets in the Way of Actual Progress

PAUL H. JOHNSON

My Queer Teachers Saw Meand My FutureBefore I Could Totally See Myself

JOHN PAUL BRAMMER

Pride Celebrates Being SeenBut What If Body Dysmorphia Makes You Want to Hide?

Kings 2008 book came out nearly a decade after Matthew Shepard was mistaken for a scarecrow. Shepards death came two years before two lesbian hikers were horrifically killed on a Shenandoah hiking trail. Gradually, the wilderness that I always envisioned as queer turned against me. Eventually, I did get over the nightmare as I hiked more often with friends and by that time, in 2010, I identified as queer. Then Trayvon Martin was murdered. Instead of being afraid, I was angry and wanted white folks to feel my wrath. I protested, shoved my loneliness and bitterness down to my feet. Racial justice or even revenge was more important than anythingeven eating right, caring for myself. But at these organizing meetings, women and queer folks were chorus again, shooed like houseflies. I became more bitter and helpless.

Honestly, I didnt do much research into BLM strategies at the beginning of the movement. I followed the crowd and group-think until I finally sat, slowed down to study its leaders and their principles. It brought me to this interview with co-founder Patrice Cullors with On Being. She talks about re-imagination:

When BLM created their website, I read and was surprised to find that queer affirming and loving engagement were guiding principles. My sexuality and desire to hold hands with another man or woman was beautifully embracednot when I get liberation, or when police training changes, or when George Zimmerman gets punishmentbut now. I deserve to be visible in my joyful, queer, black selfnow. Through BLM teachings and BLM mentors, I started to realize that I needed to reimagine blackness to include queer love and self-preservation. I was separating, suffocating my sexuality preemptively and casting it aside if I felt it got in the way of black liberation. I also bound my identity to overwhelming trauma and death instead of expanding new life and love.

Slowly, I was starting to recognize how I was ignoring my body, suppressing emotional fixtures of loneliness, desperation, and restlessness. I defined blackness as a roar against whiteness. There was no time for love, kinship, and vulnerability. But then I could barely get up in the morning. I didnt want to acknowledge my ire against an America that had betrayed me. After ignoring my body for so long, Ive come back to heal the consequences: plantar fasciitis, stomach issues, and emotional anxiety. What I forgot was how much I love being in love. This is the part I want to slowly embrace again. I love women, and I want my feet to leave the ground againvisibly queer and unapologetically black in Appalachia.

Right now Im feeling a vertigo because the KKK is hosting rallies in college towns and white nationalist groups are having membership BBQs while advertising with grass-roots language. Because time traveling is happening, Im researching Appalachian history and found a group of folks that migrated to Chicago and formed an organization in the 1970s called the Hillbilly Nationalists. They worked collaboratively with the Black Panthers, and there were also other, similar white working-class groups forming coalitions with black groups. Frustratingly, gender and queer issues were hardly integrated during the 1970s racial justice movements; but at the very least I stumbled on a forgotten history: Appalachian folks fought against the silent majority.

If all this time traveling continues, perhaps there is a chance these same alliances can form again but, following the example of BLM, with the integration of gender and queerness this time. This keeps me going as I talk shop and broach light politics with my neighbors. We have different experiences and values, but we have a shared history. Its my beautiful Appalachia, too, and I want to re-imagine it safe, black, and queer.

Read the original here:
Black Lives Matter Gave Me the Confidence to Be Visible in Appalachia - Slate Magazine (blog)

(CNN) -- Once again, a police officer has been acquitted after killing a black man -- but the officer's employer is shelling out millions of dollars to the family.

This time, it's happening in the case of Philando Castile, whose final moments were broadcast by his girlfriend on Facebook Live. On Monday, lawyers announced a $3 million settlement between the Castile family and St. Anthony, Minnesota, the city that employed the officer acquitted in Castile's death.

While officer convictions are rare, killings that have spawned "Black Lives Matter" protests have led to notable outcomes -- including settlements to stave off civil lawsuits and changes to police policy. Here's how some of the most high-profile cases have turned out:

Philando Castile, 32

Date of death: July 6, 2016

Where: Falcon Heights, Minnesota

What happened: St. Anthony police Officer Jeronimo Yanez pulled Castile over during a traffic stop. Castile told the officer he had a firearm on him, which he was permitted to carry. Castile reached for something and Yanez shot him five times. During the Facebook Live video, Castile's girlfriend said he was reaching for his license; the officer later said he thought Castile was reaching for his gun.

The outcomes: Yanez was acquitted of second-degree manslaughter, but the city of St. Anthony settled with Castile's mother for $3 million.

"The settlement will be paid through the City's coverage with the League of Minnesota Cities Insurance Trust. No taxpayer monies from the City of St. Anthony Village will be used to fund this settlement," a joint statement from the city and the Castile family said.

By reaching a settlement, the Castile family and St. Anthony avoid "a federal civil rights lawsuit which may have taken years to work its way through the courts exacerbating the suffering of the family and of the community," the statement said.

Jordan Edwards, 15

Date of death: April 29, 2017

Where: Balch Springs, Texas

What happened: Officers responded to a house party after reports of underage drinking. Police spotted a car leaving with five people inside.

Officer Roy Oliver fired into the car with a rifle, fatally shooting Jordan, who was sitting in the front passenger seat.

Police Chief Jonathan Haber initially said the car had been moving "aggressively" toward officers. Later, Haber corrected himself and said body camera footage showed the car was driving forward -- away from the officers.

The outcomes: Haber fired the officer, saying Oliver "violated several departmental policies." Oliver was arrested in May and charged with first degree murder.

Meanwhile, Jordan's classmates at Mesquite High School grieved the loss of the beloved football player and straight-A student.

Alton Sterling, 37

Date of death: July 5, 2016

Where: Baton Rouge, Louisiana

What happened: Sterling was selling CDs outside a convenience store when police received a call of a man with a gun. Cellphone video showed police tackling Sterling and pinning him to the ground before Sterling was shot. Police said Sterling was reaching for a gun.

The outcomes: Federal prosecutors said they didn't have enough evidence to file charges against Baton Rouge police officers Blane Salamoni and Howie Lake II.

Read more here:
'Black Lives Matter' cases: What ended up happening after controversial police killings - Amsterdam News

Wall Street Journal (subscription)

A Better Direction for Black Lives Matter Wall Street Journal (subscription) Will Black Lives Matter soon suffer the fate of other separatist black power movements in the 1920s and 1960s, which captured America's attention for a period but ultimately did little to help advance the black underclass? The Black Lives Matter ...

More:
A Better Direction for Black Lives Matter - Wall Street Journal (subscription)

Nearly a dozen groups including Black Lives Matter Cincinnati are sponsoring a rally near the University of Cincinnati's College Conservatory of Music Wednesday. The 6 p.m. rally is set for two hours before FC Cincinnati plays the Chicago Fire in the U.S. Open Cup at Nippert Stadium.

A Facebook event page says the goal is to "tell both UC administration and the City of Cincinnati that we demand justice for Sam Dubose."

DuBose was shot and killed by Ray Tensing, a University of Cincinnati police officer at the time. Tensing's second trial on murder and voluntary manslaughter charges ended Friday in a hung jury. His first trial on the same charges also ended in a hung jury in November.

Jurors in the second trial told Hamilton County Judge Leslie Ghiz Friday they were "almost evenly split regarding our votes toward a final verdict" and couldn't find consensus. Ghiz then declared a second mistrial.

Tensing's attorney Stew Mathews tells WVXU it's his understanding the jury votes were "8 to 4 not guilty on murder; 7 to 5 not guilty on voluntary manslaughter."

Hamilton County Prosecutor Joe Deters says he won't announce anything about a possible third trial until the week of July 10. He could choose to retry Tensing on the same charges, lesser charges, or not at all. A decision must be made by the next court date, July 24.

The "Justice for Sam DuBose" public demonstration page calls for people to wear black and bring signs. "We must show and stand up for justice," the page says, calling the most recent mistrial a "grave injustice."

University of Cincinnati spokesman Greg Vehr says in a statement to WVXU, "Members of our campus and wider community are free to gather and express themselves. The university respects all viewpoints and will work to maintain a safe environment while respecting the constitutional rights of all to engage in individual and collective expression and discourse."

An FC Cincinnati spokeswoman referred any questions about the rally to university officials.

Read more here:
Black Lives Matter Rally Planned To Coincide With FC Cincinnati Match - WVXU

ST. LOUIS The Balloon Brigade, a popular staple in the annual PrideFest parade, was hit with social media backlash for including a Blue Lives Matter flag on its float Sunday afternoon.

On Monday, the brigades leader apologized and said the group, which raises money for an AIDS charity, would return two awards it won for its entry in the parade.

As the co-creator/producer of the St. Louis Balloon Brigade, I wish to apologize to the members of the community that I have offended, wrote Chad Carroll in a statement released through #Boom Media, a brigade sponsor, and posted on Facebook. I approved a flag on our float in the Pride parade that has deeper meaning to some than I previously understood. I have been educated today.

The flag symbolizes support for law enforcement and is a takeoff of the Black Lives Matter movement that sprang up as an outcry from a rash of police shootings of black men, notably Michael Brown in Ferguson. Many minority groups, including the LGBT community, have taken offense at the Blue Lives Matter flag, seeing it as an affront to the efforts to bring attention to the marginalized.

We flew the Blue Lives Matter flag in honor of the lesbian daughter of one of our members, Carroll said in his letter. She came out relatively recently, and then became a police officer. When I was asked permission for this weeks ago I was only thinking of what a great show of love and respect for his family this was. There was absolutely no political motivation or activism intended by this display.

Carroll said members of the brigade were not asked to vote on whether to include the flag and the majority of them were not even aware it was there because they were so busy and excited on parade morning it was ultimately my original call that let the flag appear. I was wrong. I deeply regret that decision.

Tony Rothert, legal director for the ACLU of Missouri, commented in a Facebook thread about the letter from Carroll: This seems to be one of the most sincere apologies I have ever read. Rather than take criticism as a personal insult, an educational moment was accepted. The return of awards shows this is for real. Kudos.

The apology came as parade judges on Monday were debating by email whether to strip the Balloon Brigade of its awards.

I am going to speak up here because a lot of assumptions are being made as to the decision of them receiving the award, wrote Ben James, one of the judges, in a Facebook post prior to Carrolls statement. We at the judges tent could not see any of the flags they were flying because they were using their balloons to block our view of them. As someone who personally supports Black Lives Matter, I am disgusted to learn that this flag was hidden from us. And I am further upset that we awarded this to them; knowing now that they had this flag I wish we could take these awards away.

One other judge said the flag was not hidden but among others representing different groups and on a float decked out with hundreds of bright balloons. He said he did not notice it was a flag representing Blue Lives Matter.

Pride St. Louis, the nonprofit that organizes the downtown parade, issued a statement Tuesday afternoon after the Post-Dispatch asked whether groups such as Black Lives Matter were prevented from participating in the parade.

Pride St. Louis does not have a policy to prevent political groups from participating or from taking political positions. Black Lives Matter did not ask to participate, but had they asked, we would have immediately allowed them to participate, said Pride spokesman Landon Brownfield. In past parades, organizations have carried a Black Lives Matter sign, Brownfield said.

Read more:
Blue Lives Matter flag unfurls a controversy at St. Louis PrideFest parade - STLtoday.com