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3 cities that became better places for young black people

Former US President Barack Obama speaks during the MBK Rising! My Brother’s Keeper Alliance Summit on February 19, 2019 in Oakland, California.

Less than 24 hours after Trayvon Martin was shot and killed in Florida while returning home with a bag of Skittles in 2012, then-President Barack Obama addressed a shaken nation. Among a group of Chicago-area teens, she announced the launch of My Brother’s Keeper, an initiative to address persistent opportunity gaps facing children and youth of color, and to ensure that all youth can reach their full potential.

“I firmly believe that every child deserves the same opportunities that I had,” Obama said from a podium in the East Room of the White House. “That’s why we are here today. Do what we can, in this year of action, to give more young Americans the support they need to make good decisions and be resilient, overcome obstacles and achieve their dreams.”

Martin’s death became a catalyst for a national reckoning against structural racism, prompting many cities to respond with efforts to uplift communities of color. Some have shown signs of success; others have fallen short. But ten years after its launch, My Brother’s Keeper, now known as MBK Alliance, has seen notable progress in three cities in particular, helping them demonstrate that the power of collaboration can solve deep-seated problems that have plagued the United States for decades.

By acting as a financial and advisory resource, MBK Alliance helps foster cross-city collaborations to make progress on six milestones identified as keys to future youth success: early childhood education, grade-level reading by the end of third grade , graduating from high school, completing post-secondary education or training, getting a job, and staying safe from violence.

Backed by the power of the national collective, three “Model Communities” have emerged as outstanding in achieving these goals: Newark, New Jersey; Omaha, Nebraska; and Tulsa, Oklahoma. Reasons to be happy offers insight into how they did it.

New York

Eleven years ago, Newark, with 112 homicides, had the third-highest murder rate in the country, while gun violence ravaged the city’s most disadvantaged neighborhoods.

By last year, that number had plummeted to 47, the lowest number of homicides in 60 years, continuing a trend of sharply declining violent crime rates in New Jersey’s largest city. The year before, in 2022, Newark recorded fewer homicides than it had since 1961. And two years earlier, in 2020, a police officer did not fire a single shot in Newark all year.

“The broader Newark ecosystem working to improve public safety came together and got to work,” explains Mark Comesañas, executive director of My Brother’s Keeper Newark, which operates as an initiative of the Newark Opportunity Youth Network.

The fruits of that labor came at a crucial time, when the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic and the George Floyd protests collided to shine a light on the nation’s inequalities.

Mayor Ras Baraka, son of the city, reallocated 5% of the police budget to fund violence prevention work. Newark launched a new Office of Violence Prevention and Trauma Recovery, using data analytics, anti-racism and hate crime units, victim support, police-social worker partnerships and other proven health approaches public to increase security. The Newark Community Street Team, which deploys community workers and high-risk interventionists to mediate disputes and stop bloodshed, now works with young people who are most at risk of perpetrating or becoming victims of violence.

“Newark is no longer on the ‘Top 10 Most Violent Cities List,’ where it held a coveted position for nearly 50 consecutive years,” Street Team founder Aqeela Sherrills said recently. said Yahoo! News.

Most important, says Comesañas, also born and raised in Newark, is that young people, often excluded from discussions aimed at understanding their challenges, are now having a seat at the table, participating in public forums on crime and meeting with elected officials. . Its success has influenced its advocates to go further to involve young people as young as 13, he adds.

“Young people are our community’s greatest untapped resource,” he said. “Instead of seeing them as a problem to be solved, we saw them as an asset to solve those problems.”

Being an MBK Alliance model community has allowed Comesañas and others in Newark to share their experiences while also learning from other cities’ victories and losses, he says. For example, his organization gained lessons from New York’s Young Men’s Initiative and NYC Men Teach, and an action guide from Sacramento that helped fine-tune efforts in Newark.

Even so, Comesañas knows that the work is not finished.

“Our next phase is to ensure there is even greater integration across all systems,” he says. “We need City Council, community organizations and charter schools to work together and have conversations; “We need to listen to more young people.”

Tulsa

Being named a My Brother’s Keeper Model Community in 2023 did not make the Tulsa, Oklahoma community complacent. It inspired them to do more.

“We have activated nearly 100 more partners since becoming a model community, working to understand the experiences of Black youth and children of color across milestones,” said Ashley Philippsen, CEO of Impact Tulsa, which leads MBK’s local efforts.

Tulsa earned its Model Community status for the progress it made toward the first predictor of success identified by My Brother’s Keeper: early childhood education.

Oklahoma began offering universal preschool in 1998, but several years ago, thousands of children in Tulsa County, including more than 1,000 in the city of Tulsa, were not enrolled, Philippsen says. Changing that required convening residents, community organizations, city and county departments, businesses and the school district, among others.

“Together we had to change the narrative around preschool education,” says Philippsen.

Clergy, daycare teachers, parents and schools formed teams and went door-to-door, armed with the data they had collected to better understand the factors keeping children out of preschool. “We use data as a flashlight to help our partners identify and remove barriers for youth in underserved communities,” Philippsen says.

They combined this face-to-face persuasion with a media campaign that bought billboard space and aired commercials on television. Churches and others preached a new awareness of the benefits of early education, while addressing barriers to enrollment, such as the lack of programs in underserved neighborhoods.

To better understand the complex challenges of students in Tulsa, the Tulsa Childhood Equity Index, a project of Impact Tulsa and Tulsa Public Schools, was created in 2018 to identify areas of need. The index includes data on 14 different neighborhood indicators, including gun violence, employment rate, walkability, educational attainment, and socioeconomic status. Each helps identify structural and systemic barriers, as well as intersections between opportunity and access, Philippsen explained.

“It helps develop a deeper understanding of the factors that affect students in certain neighborhoods,” he said.

As a result of these efforts, enrollment in early childhood programs in Tulsa increased from 65% of eligible students in 2013 to 82% in 2020, and overall attendance of students of color increased by 33%. And while some of those accomplishments were lost amid the pandemic, the benefits of getting involved with My Brother’s Keeper, particularly as a model community, continue.

“It’s been really powerful to be part of this national network, learning from each other and sharing best practices so other cities can experience the same successes,” Philippsen says.

omaha

When Mississippi native William Barney moved to Omaha, Nebraska, 24 years ago, he saw many of the issues he had become familiar with while traveling the country identifying strengths and struggles in African-American communities.

Among the challenges, he said, are high levels of gun violence, low graduation and employment rates, and housing challenges.

He got to work and launched the African American Empowerment Network, a convener for those seeking to solve problems affecting the black community.

“We started by talking to some people about things we could do together to improve conditions here,” Barney says, recalling conversations he had with pastors, residents and others.

Since then, those conversations have multiplied. Church visits and door-to-door talks turned into formal meetings with nonprofits, businesses, the Omaha Public Schools, the police department, elected officials and many more, Barney says.

“We listen to each other, facilitate collective tables and develop plans to generate change,” he adds.

Those conversations have led to actions, such as a partnership between the school district and more than 40 organizations. About 500 youth are now enrolled in Step-Up Omaha, a summer employment and training program for youth ages 14 to 21. Empowerment Network has worked to expand employment programs, foster civic engagement among youth and other residents, increase exposure to STEM fields, and reach other diverse communities, including Latino, Native American, and Asian groups.

The result? Graduation rates rose and the unemployment rate plummeted, Barney said. Shootings have decreased and homicides have decreased 33% since 2011. Omaha 360, an initiative of the Empowerment Network, is now recognized nationally as a model for violence prevention and intervention.

None of this work can be done in isolation, he explains.

“No individual, organization or company can solve these problems alone,” Barney said. “We have shown that we can only create change by working together.”

this story was produced by Reasons to be happy and reviewed and distributed by Stacker.