Affirmative Action

This time next week I will be back in the classroom after a semester away. The truth is, I’ve always loved education and working with young people a lot more than I’ve loved school. That’s why I spend so much time doing my work “off campus.” I won’t be headed back to a full load—I’ll just be teaching one class: “Education Now.” I’ve taught this class a few times before, and each time it’s a little different. As I pulled together the syllabus, I’m considering what to prioritize—what to information emphasize, which questions to pose, and which conversations to instigate. 

One thing that is always on the menu is a discussion about affirmative action, starting with what it is, and what it is not. It never ceases to blow my mind—and frustrate the hell out of me—how deeply misunderstood and misrepresented this concept has always been. One thing I always try to help my students appreciate is that affirmative action is not any specific policy—it’s more like a guiding recommendation. So when someone gives a passionate speech about why they are for or against affirmative action, I ask them to clarify what it is that they’re talking about, and then we take it from there. I won’t be using this post to try to break this all down—if you want to know more, I highly recommend the book, All Deliberate Speed: Reflections on the first Half Century of Brown v Board of Education, by Charles J. Ogletree, Jr. This post is not really about education policy or segregation—it’s just inspired by the concept of affirmative action.

People either love making new year’s resolutions, vow to never do it, or don’t really care. I can’t really say which group I fall in, but I took like to use the new year as an excuse to run an audit on how things are going. I’m not big no resolving to stop doing stuff. My most gratifying resolutions have come when I’ve committed to continuing to do something… or when I resolve to turn an occasional practice into an actual habit. The best resolution I ever made was to read 52 books that year. The first year I went for it (2010), I fell two books short, but was proud of the effort and enjoyed the ride. Since then, I’ve hit the mark every year, even if it means disappearing for a week or two at some point to get caught up.

In August 2017 I decided to focus my reading for the month on theme of Black August. By the end of the month, I felt well-schooled and started reflecting more on the choices I make about what I read and what I don’t read. I wouldn’t say it’s random or deliberate, but I try to read all types of books. I tended to think that I was covering all the bases pretty well. But then I question crawled into my head that I couldn’t shake. How often do I read books written by women.  I assumed the answer would be plenty—maybe a little less than books written by men, but not too out of proportion. After considering the question for a while, I decided to get an actual answer. I was embarrassed. The numbers were not pretty. I estimated that for every book written by a women, I read more than four written by men. My first reaction was to say, “OK, I will try to read more books written by women.” But for some reason, the idea of affirmative action popped into my head—probably because I had recently been arguing about it with someone. Somehow I knew that trying to read more books by women was just not going to do it. I knew that my good intentions or consciousness of the problem would not actually correct the imbalance, at least not in my lifetime. So I thought, what if I just stop reading books by men for a while. The idea felt extreme or radical at first. What about all the great works, current and classic, that I would be missing out of, just because they were written by men?! But then it just started to sound like the only plan that made practical sense. Stop the bleeding! Moratorium on dude-writers.

So, is January 2019 and I haven’t read a book written by a man since August 2017. And it’s been lovely. I read so many things that I wouldn’t have otherwise. And I’ve read about familiar topics, but from different perspectives. It’s not exactly like there aren’t enough parts of my life where I get the opinions and perspective of men. All those great works that I’m missing out on… they will still be there when the moratorium ends. I have no clue when that will be. The sad thing is that this “extreme” policy still hasn’t been enough to bring my bookshelf into full equilibrium. It's been struggle... like that time in New Orleans when I asked the bookshop proprietor to recommend some plays written by women. His response: "There really aren't any." (!) But I’m enjoying it and I’m gonna keep going for now.

Before I sign off, I want to share with you some of my favorites from 2018. There are always too many to pick from, so I’ve decided to limit my recommendations to non-fiction. Please don’t get the impression that I only read books about the depressing state of the world today. This is just a snapshot of some recent books written by women that have helped me understand what’s going on, and what we might do about it. 

Last year I had my students in "Education Now" read Chapter One from this book as their first assignment. I got to meet Professor Levinson at HGSE during a book talk with a small group of students. It makes an extremely compelling case for why we need civic education and engagement curriculum in our schools.

Kelly Knight shares her findings, reflections and experiences from spending time with women who live in San Francisco's single room occupancy hotels. The title gives more than a hint about what they are struggling through, but the book goes deeper and broader to help explain the systemic nature of things.

The title of this book by makes it sound like a kooky conspiracy, but it is anything but that. Meticulously researched and well-written by Duke University Professor Nancy MacLean , this is a critical read for anyone that cares about national politics in our country. I learned a lot, and had never fully appreciated the connection between think tanks and privately funded "research" on policy. 

The badassery of Dr. Love is becoming a recurring topic in this blog. This book won't be released until February 19th this year, but I was luck to get an advanced copy from her. I will be writing more about this one in an upcoming post, so stay tuned for that!

This book is straight up scary and there's not other way for me to describe it. MIT Professor Andrea Louise Campbell shares the story of how a tragic car accident has changed the lives sister-in-law and their family. You can argue and debate about healthcare in this country all you want. There is nothing like studying an issue at the individual level—how does stuff all play out for a single person, or family? The answer is frightening, but we all need to fully understand how unsafe and insecure we are in this country. 

I hope you can all make more time for the things you love this year, whether it's reading books, fighting the power or playing pinochle. Let's make it a great one.

Pura Vida,

Drew

PS: Please do NOT watch the "State of the Union" address on January 29th. Do anything instead. Thanks.

We Did It

I've been married for one month and some change... this is the life. I won't even try to share everything about our wedding that made it amazing. Instead, here's a piece of that day that is especially important to me—maybe the most important part about it all. It's certainly the part that I better not never even think about forgetting. And so, with my Boo's permission, I'm going public with my vows.

____________

Allison,

I vow to be there. To show up. To be on point, on beat and always in tune with you.

I vow to be consistent, reliable, dependable and on time... to be your personal drummer.

I vow to keep learning from you about what it means to always be kind and considerate, and to get better at it so that you don't always have to be that person for both of us.

I vow to continue being your personal chef, and to make fewer dishes along the way. I vow to learn how to cook Armenian food.

I vow to keep making trips to Tulsa and back.

I vow to keep supporting your snacking habit in a responsible fashion.

I vow to tell you more often that you are beautiful, regardless of how obvious it is to everyone in every room you've ever been in... to keep asking you out on dates in the middle of the week, and to keep sharing plates.

I vow to never forget who you are, and to never ask you to change. But I also vow to grow with you as you do change, because change will come.

I vow to keep it simple, except during Carnaval, in which case I vow to turn up with you every year until our knees and back just won't let us anymore.

I vow to become that adorable old couple with you. The ones whose names are always mentioned together... like Wil and Carolyn*... still two people, but hard to imagine without each other.

I vow to keep you at the center and to let our life together flow from there.

 ____________

* Wil & Carolyn are my Godparents... they served as Officiant and Flower Girl at our wedding.

The following photos demonstrate that, so far, I have stuck by my vow to support Allison in her global snacking adventures... This is us (her) pictured exploring the various treats available in Kenya (and Dubai) on our honeymoon.

 

Shots & Thoughts

There is nothing quite like the acute anxiety caused by planning a big, important event. I know this because I use to throw hip hop shows for a non-living. No matter how dope the headliner, or how fly the flyer, there is only so much you can control, and so much you cannot plan for. All you can do is do your best and hope that once you build it, they will come.

I am less than two weeks away from walking down the aisle with my Boo-stress. That will certainly be big—maybe the biggest and most important day of my life. Thankfully, the real burden of planning our wedding has been borne by my better half, so I will not be writing about any of that anxiety today (thank you Boo, for real). In fact, when I do write about our wedding and our marriage, I’ll be writing to you from the other side—the other side of that threshold, and the other side of the planet! We don’t plan on bringing our laptops on our honeymoon, but a trip or two to the internet cafe might be in the cards.

Today, I’m actually writing about the anxiety caused by organizing another event, one that was big and important in a different way. After months of planning and preparations, the 2nd Annual 2020 Conference went down last week in Oakland, and all I can say is, “they did it!”

I didn’t think I would try to write a full recap of the six days. I always feel a bit unenthusiastic about trying to capture a deep and transformative experience in a concise report-back to friends and family. It’s kind of like when we got back from two years in the Peace Corps and people would ask, “how was it?” Really?! How was it? After getting that question a lot, I actually started refusing to answer it. Ask me a real question! What do you actually want to know about? Please people, meet me halfway.

Like I said, I wasn’t sure I would write this kind of post, but now it’s the week after and it feels right. So much happened last week and I actually really do want to share so much of that with the world now. Questions were asked, dots were connected, plans were made, and actions were taken. And while there was a whole lot of planning that went into the 2020 Conference, the truth is that our plans only mattered because dozens of individual young people decided to step forward and do the work. Like I said, they did it!

I am so proud of them and of our team that I will probably find ways to work this topic into every conversation I have for the next few months—bear with me for a bit. Hopefully, sharing some of the experience here will help you understand why this project is so important to me. At the very least, posting a few pictures and writing a little bit will help me process it all.

So, here goes…

Shots and Thoughts from the 2nd Annual 2020 Conference

The Odd Couple: your assignment is to find the person in the room that you have the least in common with.

 Freestyle Soccer session led by @OaklandStreetStylers

 Young, Intelligent, Black men getting ready for Part 1 of
"The Kanye Workshop" led by Justin Morgan of the Cafuné Project

Kevin spent more time in jail than these young people have spent on earth. He shared his story as part of the writing workshop facilitated by The Beat Within.

Wednesday, July 18th was Nelson Mandela's 100th Birthday. We took this photo with Mystic, Dr. Bettina Love and the folks from the Beat Within before heading out to a volunteer project.

That time when the young homie discovered what an artichoke really looks like. We observed Mandela Day by volunteering at the edible schoolyard and community garden at Stonehurst Elementary in East Oakland.

 "Defining a Social Problem"

This is one of my favorite things to teach! I've been refining this curriculum for years and it's always exciting to help high school students develop the tools to untangle messy problems and construct a deeper understanding of what's going on in the world.

College isn't everything, but it's pretty damn important! This year we were able to offer multiple simultaneous workshops, offering more choice to students. Check out this college counseling session for rising 10th Graders!

 When your students decide to sit in a circle in start playing charades at lunch. Not pictured: Knox working the grill. Thankfully, nobody called the cops on us so we were able to enjoy our BBQ at Lake Merritt in peace!

Outside of the Oakland Museum of California, giving respect due to Shino Smoke, who made time to share his story with the youth at the 2020 Conference. #RespectStyleWisdom

That time when you went to the museum with your teacher... and your teacher was part of the exhibit. We are blessed with an all around badass team, but it is particularly priceless having Mystic serve on our Leadership Team, for so many reasons!

 You got beats? This will be on the test!

 One of the highlights of the week was the Candidates Forum for Youth! Five people who are currently running for local office made time to come engage with and take questions from the youth at the 2020 Conference. My job was to stay non-partisan and to make sure they answered the questions. It was dope! Pictured from left to right: Mya Whitaker, Loren Taylor, Ken Houston, Cat Brooks, Jim Johnson, and your boy.

Discussing Peace Corps with future volunteers! Allison is the organized one with the slides—I'm the one chiming in here and there.

I hope these photos give you some hope for the future when you may need it most. I know that I will be looking at them and many more pics whenever I need a boost this year. This is some of the most gratifying work I've ever done, and I've gotten into a lot of stuff over the last few decades. My last few posts have made reference to the professional leap of faith that I am taking. As I write today, I'm feeling like my faith was truly rewarded last week, but I will feel even better when we've raised enough money to pay for all of this. My faith also extends to the financial realm.

I invite you again to support this work by donating online today if you think that what we are doing is important. When I see you next time I will thank you, and you can ask me to tell you more about the 2020 Conference. Ask me why we do it. Ask me to tell you all about one of our students—what social issues they care about, what their dream career is, what school they are going to, or where they want to get an internship next. Ask me about Mystic, Dr. Love, The Beat Within, and Oakland Street Stylers, and how we will stay connected with them all. You can ask me almost anything—just don't ask, "how was it?"

Pura Vida,

Drew

Alam shares his #theoryofchange on the last day of this summer's 2020 Conference.

*wedding photo by Becca Henry

Re-Entry for Round Two

When I woke up this morning, I just didn’t feel like celebrating my country. Admittedly, I did fall asleep the night before listening to an episode of Pod Save America about the recent resignation of Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy. It’s hard not to be supremely disturbed by what this means on so many fronts, for so many people, but the feeling I’m carrying is deeper than that event or podcast episode, regardless of how deflating both were.

It took many years—in fact, most of my life to date—to develop any true sense of pride or belonging in the United States of America. I’ve written about that journey and evolution in previous posts on this blog, including “American Unexceptionalism,” (6/24/14). That pride has been challenged more than ever by the role that our country is playing in the world, and by the absolute backwards direction that we are now headed in. That is not a partisan statement, just an acknowledgement of the current state of affairs.

I spent the last week of June in my happy place, with no cell phone reception, wi-fi, or access to the news of the world. I’m not gonna lie, that’s part of what makes it my happy place. For the last two decades, I’ve done my best to make it to Jazz Camp West each summer—it’s my chance to shed, serve*, vibrate, and yes, hide. I keep it moving at a pretty intense pace, so this week is a critical chance for me to slow down, reset, and recharge. The tricky part is that with work piling up, sometimes a break from it only causes more stress.

Last summer, I also had a long overdue trip back to Colombia planned—tickets purchased and all. But I never ended up getting on that plane. At some point, it dawned on me just how much work we had to do to get ready for the 1st Annual 2020 Conference later that summer. I just knew that I would regret taking two weeks off, so the airfare went to waste, and I’m still overdue for a trip back to my other home and family. While I canceled my trip abroad, I still made it to Jazz Camp last year, and I don’t regret that decision at all. The 2020 Conference was an incredible experience, and I only had the juice to lead that effort because I was able to get my mind right before the big show.

About a month ago, I was again feeling like maybe disappearing for a week this year was not a good idea. We still had so much to do—outreach efforts to students, organizing workshops, raising money, and more. Would I be emerging from the woods to face the harsh reality of being under-prepared and behind schedule? Would I regret not spending every waking hour trying to make this year’s conference as beautiful as last year? Plus, was I really ready to miss a full week of the World Cup?***

There was another piece that made me pause. Granted, the nightly news has been bleak for some time, not just because the bad news sells. I know I’m not the only one that felt an increased sense of urgency as I learned more about what was happening on this country’s southern border. Unlike many in the socialmediasphere, I was not shocked. As some have pointed out, "you know who" is not the first president to criminalize the pursuit of the American Dream. Our country’s immigration policies have long been at odds with the words etched on the Statue of Liberty. While I was not surprised by what was going on, I was certainly pissed off. Not like, disturbed by the status quo—I mean heated. I’m not the only who felt like driving straight to Texas to… well, that was the problem… to do what?

I was able to find some peace, not because things are better now, but because I know what I want to do about it, and I’m already doing that. In fact, I am so sure about this that I recently I left my teaching and I've accepted the position as Executive Director of Youth Education for Success**, the non-profit that hosts the 2020 Conference. I used to accept that Camp was a magical place where everything worked, while the "real world" just isn't. But I can no longer embrace the bubble mentality—not at camp and not at a private school. The truth is, things inside the bubble are never as perfect as they seem.**** Also, those of us who benefit from those special spaces also have a responsibility beyond that bubble. We have a responsibility to address inequity, thereby reducing the need for that protective bubble in the first place.

I was blessed to spend over a week with my music family—hiding from the news, serving a community that has served me, and stepping up my skills on the bass (thank you Steve Hogan and Mary McSweeney for the schooling!). I was also able to disappear in peace because I am not alone in this work—our team is deep with amazing warriors like Knox, Mystic, Dr. Love, Jenny Schneider and my brother Al. We even have a few young interns that have decided to give their time and effort to support the project that they're benefiting from.

Now we are ready. Our work is with the youth, helping them prepare to fully join this struggle to cook up some more love, equity and compassion in our world. That’s why we started the 2020 Conference, and that’s why we’re coming back strong this summer for year number two. This is a non-partisan project, and we welcome support from anyone who cares about youth. Just like last year, we really need your help to make this project work. There are no big grants, no social media tycoons to foot the bill. Just people like you that understand the value of fully preparing our youth to make the changes in the world that they want to see. We need to raise over $10,000 this month—we did it last year, and we will do it again, and we hope you can contribute something, no matter what the amount.

Please click here to make a tax-deductible donation in support of the 2020 Conference. The 2020 Conference is a week-long empowerment and capacity-building experience for Bay Area high school students. We run a lean ship, powered by the efforts of volunteers—every penny is well spent, most of it in our local economy. Be that change, spare some change, make some change! The students thank you in advance for your love and your money!

Pura Vida,
Drew

*After a few years of participating as a teenage camper, I joined the Crew. This is the most motley of motley production crews. We are the musicians, dancers, and characters who are are also responsible for lugging gear around and setting good vibes for the week.

** Youth Education for Success provides and supports programs that enrich the creative capacity of youth for real world excellence.

*** The last few times I missed Jazz Camp, it was because I was out of the country, including South Africa 2010 and Brazil 2014. I did survive missing a week of this year's tournament, and I've been doing my best to make up for that lost time.

**** After three decades of being decidedly un-woke, we are now making an effort to recognize the Ohlone peoples and the land where Jazz Camp takes place each year. Thank you to Carmen, of the Bear and Eagle Apache clans, for pushing and leading us on this front.

(photo by Craig Cochrane)

Least Cool Mentor

You may be surprised to learn that I’m not really big on getting recognition. Don’t get me wrong—I don't mind being “in charge,” but I could really care less about getting credit. When I’m on my game, my work itself is my reward. If this makes any sense, I want to be recognized for not caring about being recognized. But in the last month or so, I've been ceremoniously presented with two certificates that have meant more to me than the everyday thank you’s that we give and get.

To explain the first recognition, I have to back up four years in time. I am meeting a group of 15 freshmen on the first day of their high school orientation. I will be their Mentor for the next four years and this is my first crack at setting them up for success. What do I want to tell them? What golden nugget of wisdom shall I proffer? I decide to keep it simple and as real as possible. I tell them that if I could change anything about how I did high school, I would be more kind and I would care less about being cool. Sounds easy, but it’s not, especially not in the world of teenagers. So I challenge the group to join me in a pledge to be the least cool cluster in the whole school.

After that, we didn’t talk much about that pledge over the next four years. Some of us were more successful than others in the work. At times we remembered to prioritize the real over the fake. At other times we forgot, tried to be cool but weren’t, and so we ended up honoring the pledge by accident.

A few weeks ago, I attended the Senior Dinner, kicking of a sentimental goodbye season that will culminate in graduation day in early June. Each Senior Cluster toasted, roasted and recognized their respective Mentor—I believe I was described as “not so bad, as long as you follow some of his very specific instructions.” I did appreciate their words, but the highlight was the special recognition that they bestowed upon me.

I plan to write more about these overgrown chicken nuggets in the next few weeks. But in the meantime, this gives you an idea of what I’m so proud of.

And now, back to the present. This was a rare weekend with no soccer games to coach. It was an opportunity to continue the outreach campaign that’s in full swing. We’ve been heavy on the grind, connecting with Bay Area high school students to let them know about the 2020 Conference, and how it could help them transform the situation. I spent today at EOYDC, connecting with young people at the Passion Discovery Career Fair, hosted by the Bay Area Tuskegee Alumni Club. Like my Mentees at school, the 2020 Conference is something that I’ll be writing more about soon. All I really want to say right now is thank you to the Tuskegee family,past and present, and thank you to the young people who continue to show up and show us what’s next.

Pura Vida,
Drew

The Seeds Have Been Planted

Last week was special. It wasn't always easy, but it was special! We are all fortunate to have each other, and to be able to take a week to just honor the present, past, and future of our families. There's nothing quite like a family reunion.

Last week was beautiful, but in some ways, it was set against a backdrop of something very ugly. As we gathered for our final meals of the week on the Vineyard, violence was unfolding just a few states away. Violence fueled by the same hate that our families have endured and conquered, generation after generation.

I found it hard to concentrate on our goodbyes—I have always been a a bit restless. As my mind drifted towards the events in Charlottesville, I never saw them as unrelated to, or disconnected from our family reunion. After all, we gathered last week to celebrate and commemorate the very thing that White supremacists hate and fear the most—beautiful, successful, fearless Black people. I am not afraid or hopeless because I know how I am fighting—education is my weapon of choice, and I am going upstream to try to help young people understand, dismantle and build.

I spent the week before our family reunion reflecting on the 2020 Conference and my experiences in that community of educators and high school students from across the Bay Area and beyond. It was powerful and beautiful, and it is something that our communities need more of. I already asked many of you for support in making this conference happen and more than a few of you have.

Now I am asking again. Maybe you meant to donate but haven't yet. Maybe you donated $10 and would like to up the ante. Maybe you figure that I will keep asking until you finally donate. These are all valid reasons to throw down, and I hope that you pick at least one reason. The seeds have been planted, please help us make the 2020 Conference sustainable!

Pura Vida,

Drew

Swinging For The Fences

I spent Tuesday, November 8th 2016 at Brookfield Village Elementary School in Oakland. I’m a teacher, but I don’t actually work at that school. Instead of showing up to my normal job that day, I took a personal day and spent it working the polls. Now, before you flip out, let me be clear—I said “polls” not “pole.” Despite some significant student loans, it has not yet come to that.

This past election, like many before, I served as a Precinct Board Member for the Alameda County Registrar of Voters. My first time doing this was in 2002. After experiencing the shenanigans of 2000, I decided that I wanted a front row seat to the show and an opportunity to help ensure that no machines, miscounts, hanging chads or ethically-challenged Secretary of State would ever again decide a presidential election in this country. Since then I have served several times in Oakland as a Clerk, then a Judge, and now as an Inspector.

That Tuesday was a different experience for everyone who lived it—for me, it was one of the most stressful days of my life. In fact, it was so stressful that I had no time or mental capacity to worry about what the outcome of the election would be—I had my hands full trying to coordinate two separate polling locations “conveniently” located inside the same school auditorium in Deep East Oakland. 

My day started around 5:30 am and wouldn’t end until close to midnight. Some time in the early evening I got a one sentence text message from my girlfriend (now fiancé!). It read, “I hate the world.” I was too busy to text back, and legally, I wasn’t supposed to indulge in a conversation about how the election was turning. But her text was enough for me to guess. Amazingly, my reality that day was so hectic that I just had to keep it moving, so the news had little immediate effect on me.

It wasn’t until I got home late that night that the rest of my life started. Allison and I talked for a little bit—nothing coherent, nothing insightful… mostly just pain, sadness and anger. Soon I found myself standing in the bathroom with a simple question ringing in my head—“What are you going to do about it?” I pondered the question as I looked in the mirror, feeling a little fire in my belly. I thought about the election and all the elections before it that I’ve lived through, and as I did so that little fire grew hotter and hotter until I realized that my fists were clenched hard enough to cut fingernail marks in to my palms. 

I recognized that fire—it was the fire that fueled and sustained me through the years under the George W. Bush administration. In many ways, the 2016 election felt to me like watching the Twin Towers crumble to the ground again eight years later. When the so-called “War on Terror” began, it changed the world drastically—I responded by making drastic changes in my life. I left the School of Foreign Service at Georgetown and doubled down on my path as a Hip Hop artist, activist and entrepreneur. Looking back, anything less drastic would have been downright uncivilized, and there is not a bone in my body that has ever regretted that choice.

Eventually that chapter of my life did come to a close, opening the way to new adventures. If you are curious, you can spend the next ??? hours reading the previous 106 entries on this blog—or not. Maybe I was free to pursue a different path, focusing on coaching and youth development… maybe I got complacent when Obama was elected. Either way, the fire in my belly on the night of November 8th was one that I hadn’t quite felt in many years, at least in the same way.

Instead of trying to relax, I let the fire spread from my core to my finger tips, from my gut to the follicles in my skin. It felt natural… it felt like power. I clenched my fists even tighter, daring the skin of my palms to flinch first and give way to a drop of blood. It didn’t. Clench, unclench. Breathe in, breathe out. Sometimes we need to be angry. It’s much better than being paralyzed or stuck. I made my decision, stepped out of the bathroom and announced to Allison that I would be running for President of the United States in 2020. 

The next day I sat in an emergency/optional faculty meeting, listening as a dozen or so of my colleagues tried to process it all. I told them what my plan was—if they thought I was crazy at least they had the decency to hold their tongue. I think most of them believed and still believe that I may be crazy in a good way, but certainly not delusional. The best part about Wednesday, November 9th—in fact, the only good part for me—was catching devastated students in the hallways and telling them that I would be running for President. If nothing else, I made a whole bunch of teenagers smile and giggle on a day when there wasn’t much to smile about. At best, I think I gave them some hope, whether or not they would ever vote for me. You see, one thing I’ve learned from being a high school teacher is that no matter how much independence they claim to want, sometimes they just need to be assured that the adults in the room are on it. What could shake young America’s sense of security and confidence in us more than anything in the world? Electing Donald J. Trump as President of the United States of America. They are right to lose faith in us, unless of course we do something to earn their confidence back.

In the weeks after the election I reached out to my people to let them know about my decision. I called my immediately family members. I sent texts to most of the people in my phone. I updated my social media pages to make it official. More than anything, I did this as a way to hold myself to the drastic decision I made on the evening of November 8th. Here’s the amazing part—virtually everyone I told was fully supportive, not even in an oh-that’s-so-cute patronizing way. I was hearing things like, “let me know what I can do to help—I will be there…” or “that’s what the f*** I’m talking ‘bout!” My favorite answer of all was, “finally, it’s about time!” While this was all good for my ego, it was even better for my soul—it brings me inner peace to know that so many people that know me so well believe in me, and see me, and know what I’m really all about.

So, yes, I’m about to ask you for money, but we will get to that in a second. I haven’t written an entry in this blog in over a year, so pardon me if this one is on the longer side.

I had a good time letting everyone know that I was running for President, but I always knew I had some tough questions to answer for myself. I knew that I had zero intention of running a conventional campaign—for example, raising millions of dollars and spending it on media buys and other things that actually reinforce the systems that most urgently need dismantling. Perhaps I will just stand for office instead of running. Ultimately, I cannot justify abandoning my work in youth development to spend the next three and half years hobnobbing, backslapping, and speechifying.That’s just not gonna work for me. Moreover, one of the prime reasons for my candidacy would be to reach the un-reached, the un-moved, the overlooked. I have little desire to go head-to-head with entrenched billionaire centrist Democrats and Republicans in a battle to when over the so-called decent hard working salt-of-the-earth middle of the country. I know my constituency—they are the same kids that smiled in the hallway when I told them what my plan was.

I decided that phase one of my “campaign” would focus almost exclusively on high school students, and that it wouldn’t even be a campaign at all. Instead of focusing on running for office, I would double—no, quadruple down on my work with young people. Capacity building. Youth Empowerment. CIVIC EDUCATION!!! Instead of building up a war chest, I would be train up an army of activated young folks, ready to thrown down in 2020, and in some cases before. In truth, I would be OK with it if they chose not to vote for me—just vote! Hopefully, my candidacy can give them a reason to show up. This is not about voter registration—this is about voter motivation.

So what now? Now I am swinging for the fences. Last year–before the election—I joined the board of a young non-profit organization called Youth Education for Success. After a six-month process of crafting our mission statement, we are poised to “enrich the creative capacity of youth for real world excellence.” Our next project is the 2020 Conference, a week-long youth empowerment experience for high school students that will take place in Oakland this summer. The theme of the conference is “tools to build the world you want to live in.” 

This is my baby, but it’s a lot bigger than me. I am pulling out all the stops to make this a success, swinging for the fences to produce a game-changing experience for the students that participate, and for their communities. Our vision is to begin building a cohort of capable young folks that will return to their high schools and go off to colleges and early careers with the same fire in their bellies that I felt on the evening of November 8th. What they do with that fire is ultimately up to them. Our job as adults is to do our part to make sure they are prepared and up for the challenges ahead.

Which bring us back to the money. I believe that the 2020 Conference will be the most diverse group of high school students ever assembled in Oakland for this type of experience. This means I am committed to making the conference accessible to all Bay Area high school students, no matter how much money their families have. Our scholarship fund for the conference depends entirely on donations from individuals, and guess who is doing all the fundraising. There are no big grants this time, no corporate sponsors, and no government funding. Just me and you and those dead presidents that I am asking you to part with.

If you are with me on this, please CLICK HERE or on the button below to make a donation in support of the 2020 Conference. It is tax-deductible, it is important, and it will be well-spent on helping young people fix the mess we’ve made. My goal is to raise $10,000 during the month of June. Your support is your love, and both are appreciated!

Pura Vida,

Drew

CLICK HERE to visit the Official 2020 Conference Website