The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of Mission Bit.
I have spent much of the year running for San Francisco Board of Education while also directing a young nonprofit offering free computer science coding courses to high school students and young adults called Mission Bit. Juggling both operations is all-consuming and requires that I manage a lot of moving pieces. I'm the only full time staff person at Mission Bit, my campaign is being run by volunteers, and I often feel like I experience more defeats than gains. I was warned against taking too much on this year, but I find deep purpose in these pursuits and the role I'm playing in uplifting my community. All of that came into question for me after the killing of Philando Castile.
I had a late meeting Friday afternoon to discuss some items related to my campaign. The killings last week made it especially difficult to focus, but I was looking forward to some my needed rest for the evening. After my meeting, I got a call from one of my instructors while I was on BART. He was calling me after- hours on the weekend, I immediately thought it was an emergency. Given the events of the week, I was hoping something hadn't happened to one of my black male students. I picked up the phone filled with anxiety. "Hey Stevon, so, we have a problem; it's about Michael."
Michael is a fifteen year old black male that lives in Bayview-Hunters Point. He's easily distracted, naturally funny, very outgoing and is quick to say something out of line to a person in authority. For me, the last characteristic has always been a major part of his charm. I have a soft spot for Michael because I see so much of myself in him. Honestly, in many ways I see the cool kid in him that I wish I was when I was his age. I've known him for about a year. When he's not in class, he loves to skateboard and play video games. He's always talking about ways to earn extra money, or pushing the boundaries by asking for something he knows he shouldn't. More than anything, I wanted him in our program this summer to keep him close to me. I believed that the more he saw and got to know me, the greater possibility I would have to be a positive influence in his life and show him a path where he would be able to benefit from all of the natural gifts he's been blessed with.
When I got that call from my staff person, I was certain my time to make that impact had been taken from me.
Instructor: Hey Stevon, so we have a problem; it's about Michael.
Me: Okay, what's going on? - My heart is pounding and my hands are sweaty, I'm trying to stay composed and listen intently on a crowded BART train.
Instructor: Well, Michael went to the skate park after class. He put his backpack down to start skating. And when he came back his bag was stolen and his laptop was in his backpack. Now he's asking if he's going to have to pay for it or if he's not going to get his stipend because his laptop was stolen.
Me: Okay, is that it? Is Michael okay? Is he safe?
Instructor: Yeah, he's fine. His mom wants to know if she has to come in Monday to discuss the situation.
Me: To talk about the laptop? No, the laptop is replaceable. Tell Michael I'm glad he's okay and to come to class Monday ready to work. We'll get him another laptop.
Many of us that have spent any significant time working with black male youth know what's it like to get that call. We go into the work of serving youth with an urgency around saving lives just as much as we have a commitment to academic rigor. We hold on to hope for a better tomorrow in the midst of constant violence from the community and brutality from the police. No parent or educator should have to live under constant fear for the lives of their students. But we do.
After the killing of Philando Castile last week I've been sitting with deep questions about what it means to be a black politician leading an education nonprofit focused on coding education in a city that has systematically decimated and locked out its black population. I'm a third generation San Franciscan and third generation graduate of San Francisco public schools. I seek to serve this city despite the fact the black population has gone from 17% to 3% over the past 30 years. I'm working to create opportunities for our youth in this city in the face staggering income inequality where the average income of white residents is $104,000 and that of black residents is $29,000. I have committed to doing more than just complaining about these issues, my work at Mission Bit and running for board of education is part of my desire to be a collective part of the solution.
My path to personal and professional advancement is often compared to American narrative about "pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps". Despite being born into a community overrun with poverty, drugs and violence, I was able to use my education to escape. I went to one of the most prestigious colleges in the country and came back to San Francisco to serve my community. I've done well and have been afforded great support by people of all ethnicities and economic statuses.
But when I get stopped by the police, my name is Philando Castile.
Philando was 32, I'm 31. He made his living serving youth in food services at a local school in Minnesota. I work serving youth teaching them how to code in San Francisco. He had worked for Minnesota's public school system since he was 19 years old; I have been working in the San Francisco education arena since age 23. He had ambitions, I have ambitions. He was respectful and followed directions when he comes into encounters with the police. I'm respectful and follow directions when I have encounters with the police. Philando was a black man, I'm a black man.
"Never trust a man that doesn't wear a watch. Because when the revolution starts, he won't know what time it is." -Malcolm X
We are overdue for a dramatic and transformative change of course in America around the over-policing and killing of black people. It's deeply unsatisfying to see the media coverage and proceeding rallies, hashtags, and social media posts only to know that in a few weeks the country will be back to business as usual. It's deeply unsatisfying to be a black man seeking political office during a time where the President is black, the Attorney General is black, and these incidents are being broadcasted live with little to no accountability.
The calvary is not coming to keep our community or our children safe. I'm convinced that change has to start at the local level. As leaders in the black community we have to continue to build economic, political, and educational pathways that put our children in the best possible position to succeed. As a city, we have to hold our leaders accountable to their track records around improving outcomes for black residents.
We can't accept a justice system that disportionately arrests black citizens or public schools which perpetually produce poor outcomes for black children. We can't support companies that don't prioritize diversity hiring practices and aren't willing to make significant investments in organizations looking to develop the pipeline of workers. We can't accept our children going hungry or not allowing people that serve time in prison to participate as full citizens by being locked out of employment opportunities or having the right to vote. No more housing instability or landlords being able to discriminate against people with Section 8 vouchers. Everything needs to be on the table if we're going to be committed to improvements.
I wouldn't be in the position I'm in today without hope, and a deeply rooted faith in a more just future. I wouldn't be in the position I'm today with the support of whites, blacks, asians, latinos, liberals and conservatives that in one way or another invested in my growth and development. However, I can't end this article with a nicely bowed message about a better day ahead. Our country is in trouble and I won't mince words. I don't imagine a message likes that sits well with many people, but fearing for the life of my students doesn't sit well with me. I get up early every morning working hard to win my campaign and run my organization, but I know that winning in November or running a successful organization isn't enough. Our work isn't done until we believe that we can look a black child in their eyes without fear or reservation, and say that in our country they can be themselves, free and safe from harm.