Happy New Year from Many Voices One Tribe!

The Crew: Zion, Azeb, Jordan, Reagan, Eyerusalem.

Dear MVOT Supporters,

As we welcome the new year I am filled with gratitude for Many Voices One Tribe. I am grateful to the youth and my fearless co-facilitator who dared to take this journey with me. I am also grateful for each and every individual and organization who came together  to make my dream into a reality, most especially everyone who contributed to our Go Fund Me, those who helped lead activities, the Amor Spiritual Center, the Seattle Globalist,  the Seattle Fandango Project, the Human Rights Commission in Veracruz, and the Spanish Language Immersion School.

It's been several months since we returned from our time in Mexico. Azeb graduated and is contemplating her next steps (which hopefully will include film school). Zion and Eyerusalem have returned to high school. Zion is now president of the Gay Straight Alliance at his school and Eyerusalem is editor of her school paper and has also started a self care group for young black women. Jordan continues his good works in the Tri-Cities area and is creating a poetry anthology.

I (Reagan) have been wrestling with my next steps. After returning from Mexico I took some time off to hang out with my goddaughter and to process my year of putting the program together. There were a lot of highs and a lot of lows, difficult conversations, sleepless nights, the endless math of readjusting the budget and so much more.

I believe 100% that programs like this are the future of study abroad if we ever hope to provide supportive and appropriate educational experience to cultivate our youth of color to be global citizens. I also learned that creating the infrastructure and performing all the administrative duties that make the program itself possible is not my jam. In fact I would be content never to host another fundraiser, fill out anymore paperwork, or spend another sleepless night trying to figure out insurance and liability issues. As you've read on the blog, we had an incredible experience...the places we went, the people we met, the food we ate, the salsa we danced, the conversations we had, the writing we produced, the family we forged has been an incredible blessing.

I've decided that while I am committed to the work of creating global citizens I must do so in a way that is sustainable. I also want to stay true to my first love...writing. To that end I have decided to continue my freelance journalism and I've accepted a position as the Program Manager for Young Women Empowered, a youth leadership program serving girls 13-18 in the greater Seattle area. Through Y-WE I will be creating new programs domestically and also launching our first abroad experiences with what I've learned from this year. So I will leave you with my most recent column in the Seattle Globalist that gives a little more detail about what I've gained and my sincere thanks for your support of this program.

with love,

Reagan



10 Lessons I learned by starting my dream non-profit as published on the Seattle Globalist.

Many Voices One Tribe was my dream nonprofit — a study abroad program that empowered young writers of color. I wanted them to explore their identities in a global context, experience life outside of the United States and build their writing skills. 2015 was the pilot year that we brought three young writers to Veracruz, Mexico. 

After hearing my program participants recount their experiences, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment and relief that I met my goals. A year of continuous planning and fundraising was worth it. 

At the end of this journey, I have learned as much from my failures as from my successes. Here are the top 10 of my lessons learned:

You don’t know what you don’t know — get help!

I knew nothing about nonprofit tax codes, business licenses, board law, liability, and more. Thankfully my friends who did know about these things helped set me up for success.

Diversify your fundraising strategy

I was successful in connecting with many donors, whose gifts ranged from $5 to $200. But even with the beautiful display of community support we didn’t meet our fundraising goal right away, despite several unsuccessful applications for grants. We ended up hosting multiple fundraising events. This was great for outreach, but very time-consuming. I realize now that even one major donor or a matching grant would have saved a lot of time and stress.

Pay yourself first

I spent about 20 unpaid hours a week for 10 months building infrastructure, hosting fundraisers and working with the young people. The long hours limited my time for paid work. Also, more youth than I had budgeted for left the program before the trip and fundraising. While our budget covered trip expenses, the co-facilitator stipend was reduced and my stipend was eliminated. I feel proud of the gift I was able to give these youth but the financial loss has been disheartening.

Listen to others, but trust yourself

People who I invited to help launch the program didn’t just bring their skills and ideas, they brought their judgments and opinions. I endured some very condescending interactions. This brought out the worst in me. I reacted in an arrogant way because I knew my skills were up to par. But I also felt insecure because I was learning new things and struggling with anger, isolation and stress. My community has always been a source of strength and a place where I could find support. Yet somehow when I needed them most there was a disconnect. Since everyone I knew was quasi-involved I couldn’t talk about my troubles with anyone. I had to trust my instinct and my vision for the program.

Don’t be afraid to make specific asks from specific people

I initially asked people to choose how they were willing to help out, which meant that some people volunteered for roles not in alignment with what they could do best. I had to learn how to ask specific people to take on specific roles according to what they do best. When I began to do this it alleviated a lot of conflict.

Make amends

I am so grateful to everyone who helped make MVOT a success, especially to my co-facilitator Jordan Chaney. My biggest regret is that I was not able to compensate him the way that I had hoped. There is a laundry list of people I hurt or offended — and just as long of a list of people who let me down. I have done my best to make amends. I have forgiven and asked forgiveness. Now all I can do is move forward with gratitude and the knowledge that I did the very best I could and I have learned how to do better.

Put everything in writing

Changes happen. Always document everything. That way you know what worked, what didn’t work and what everyone is agreeing to do.

Plan like hell, then go with what works

The best part of it all was when we actually got to Mexico. We had a lot of planned excursions the first week, but in the second week there was unplanned time for the participants to choose our activities. These magical mystery tours led us to the live band in the Plaza de las Companas and to meeting new people. Some of the best moments on the trip were spontaneous, like when I came downstairs to find everyone chilling on the couch and writing or when we ran into a nearby parade and I got invited to dance with the salseros.

Many Voices One Tribe participant Azeb Tuji is coerced onto the dance floor by a man named Victor at the Veracruz Zocalo. (Photo by Reagan Jackson)

Enjoy it while it lasts

For the last two years, MVOT has been a huge part of my life. Even during the down times, it was always on my mind. The trip itself seemed to go by so quickly, but I enjoyed it immensely and created memories that will last a lifetime.

Self-care is vital

Self-love, self-care, eating, sleeping, and staying sane are the foundation of dream building. You can’t build anything if you are so depleted you can barely function. It seems so obvious and yet I know so many people, especially in nonprofit, who have no work-life balance and view this kind of selfless martyrdom as something to be proud of. It’s not healthy or OK. 

With this experience behind me, I know even more strongly that serving young people is my calling. I plan on continuing the work of taking youth of color abroad, but I also know I must find a way to do it sustainably. MVOT is over for now. I’ve joined the staff of Young Women Empowered as the Youth Engagement Program Manager. The girls have asked us to show them the world and I am excited to meet their challenge.

The Power of Agreement

By: Azeb

The True Spirit of Azeb

I've been having trouble writing this blog. I feel like by wrapping up my time in Veracruz with this blog I'll be sort of cutting ties with this place, and the last thing I want to do is put this experience to an end. I've been having this feeling since I've gotten back that my mind is still floating back somewhere in Mexico. I have adjusted back into my everyday routine physically, but emotionally and mentally I feel as free and loved as I did in Veracruz. I've been cautiously waiting for my mind to come back to the States, for me to start viewing myself and the people around me how i did before the trip. That it just hasn't fully hit me yet that I'm back, but I'm beginning to realize that this isn't just a high i'm waiting to ride out. That this feeling is something permanent. That I'm probably not going to be the person I was before the trip and that's something I'm choosing to accept.

On our last night in Veracruz our MVOT family had dinner on the second floor of my favorite restaurant. We were talking about agreements we make everyday. I talked about how I remember running outside on the field in the 7th grade and this girl telling me that I run funny. Ever since then I made it a habit not to run in public which is stupid, because I don't even remember that girl's name, yet I let what she said hold me back for so long. We are told so many things on a daily basis, and we choose to agree or disagree with them without even realizing it. I've started to make it a habit to consciously disagree with everything in my life that's toxic to me. 

So far I've chosen to :

• Run: I raced my cousin at the park, I ran to go get peanut butter for a customer at work. 
• Believe in myself: My penny boarding skills have improved drastically, because I'm actively trying to cope with the fear of falling off. I've learned to speak a little louder and stronger. To make longer eye contact. To not be the first person to move or look away.
• Cut Ties: I quit my job. 
• Love myself: That my septum doesn't make me any less human. That I have control over more than just what I eat. 
• Accept: That just because the people I care the most about don't agree/disagree with something that doesn't make me a bad person if my opinions differ. That it's alright not to be okay. That I'm probably going to be confused for the rest of my life, and it's not my job to have everything figured out. 

Just because you choose to accept something about yourself or your life in the past doesn't mean you can't go back and change your mind. One of my teachers gave me this piece of advice during a time in my life where I couldn't help but over think everything that was happening to me. He told me to reflect on things going on around me. At first that thought made me uneasy because I didn't want to think back on the things in my life that I can't change. 

My thoughts of it changed after everything I've learned while in Mexico  We need to look back and reflect on things daily because everything is always changing. No truths are constant so whatever seems impossible or a barrier now will change. Change is inevitable, it's one of the only things you can count on. By reflecting we're allowing ourselves to change.

French toast + Serendipity

By Eyerusalem

the photo flash mob that left the parade for this picture

French toast. The only thing we had planned for today was to eat french toast for breakfast. Reagan was going to wake up early in the morning and make her delicious toast added with the rich vanilla extract she bought from our trip to Tajin. We all woke up feeling motivated by the mouth-watering aroma being released from the kitchen and in no time, each one of us was sitting in the dining area. And we ate. We had no plans for what was to come later. There was no "and then", there was no "after", but there was plenty of toast and syrup.

A few moments after I apprehensively snatched the last piece of french toast from the platter, we all dispersed into our own little areas. Little did we know the serendipitous happenings that were going to later unfold.

Trumpets. Cheers. Honks. Laughter. Those were the sounds I heard from my tiny window in my room. Before I had the chance to ask what was going on, Reagan said, "There is a parade outside, let's go!" I immediately got dressed and found the entire tribe gathered around the boulevard next to the beach. The faint smell of sewage was unparalleled to the beauty of the parade. There were colorful feathers everywhere: blue, green, red, white.

Both old women and little girls as young as three were swaying their hips to the sound of the beat. A flock of women and men in blue feathered costumes began walking past us. Many of the watchers as well as the participants of  the parade kept on staring at us and asked for pictures. It was funny, we might as well have had our own float considering the amount of attention that was given to us. Moments later, a group of old men in iridescent button-down shirts passed by and once they noticed the odd view of five Black people, they circled Reagan and cheered her on to dance. And boy, did she dance. It was all very beautiful.

After the spontaneous parade, we all got ready for our goodbye dinner with our teachers. The moment made me realize how quickly the past two weeks had gone. It seemed like just yesterday I was trying to come up with all these mnemonic devices and strategies to teach my Spanish teacher, Mario how to pronounce my name.

The entire day was perfect, ending with salsa dancing at the town square. It was the perfect seal to our beautiful journey. We really had absolutely no idea what the day was going to hold. Being someone who likes everything planned and is intimidated by spontaneity, it has certainly taught me that sometimes, it is best to just wake up and have french toast, and let everything else perfectly and gracefully fall into place.

Reagan, Jordan, Azeb and Zion, I am so grateful to have been able to take this trip with you guys. It has been a really life-changing experience. When we head back, we are probably going to be bombarded with life's obligations, but I will never forget all of our amazing moments (seriously, they have all been captured on my phone) and our hilarious series of inside jokes.

With love,
Eyerusalem

The Summer Parade

 My Spanish teacher, Mario and I

Poetry: Seen and Unseen

Seen + Unseen by Zion

Zion with Dani preparing to hit the pinata at Azeb's unbirthday party

You see a canvas and you see a mirror

With one thing you'll be able to see what you've created with your ability, and the other, you'll see a reflection of the outside

Yes you can change things, but you can only change so much

You can't hide what you really want, what you need, what you crave

Welcome to Veracruz, México where you'll find an amazing aquarium, gorgeous beaches and nice locals

You won't expect to see graffiti, Sewer leaks, and mosquitos

You'll find the people to look slightly different but the true colors and cultures go deeper than the skin

Tales of Sun gods, warriors, indigenous and afro-descendent Mexicans are slowly disintegrating


Veracruz wants to be set free. That's what's unseen.

Statue of El Negro Yanga in Yanga, Veracruz

Yanga's sonnet by Jordan Chaney

There are no black people in paradise.
The sun shines on everything all the same.
Papayas, all people, palm trees, beans and rice. 
Curls are welcomed here as heavenly mane.

The history books are void of slave meat.
The town's mouths are ripe fields of sugar cane.
Street vendor has a story to tell me;
All chains were broken free in Yanga's name.

TVs, heavy books have erased my line
It is nice, no good or bad references
My home paints me with big lips and no spine
This bold land 'least lends a lil reverence

Machete tongues have chopped me all to shreds.
...the thick of me can't be conquered by death.

Las Raices Invisibles (The Invisible Roots) by Reagan Jackson

Statue of a woman at the Museum of Anthropology in Xalapa

Here I am

seen and unseen

take my picture, but not my name

brown skin, white teeth but disembodied

not a shadow

   but an icon

      an idea

         a postcard

smile and wave,

but do you see me

beyond la negra

you think describes me...

morena, chaparra

am I so simply defined

by the shape of my hips,

the rythm you assume resides there.

Am I a line from a song

a half eaten melody

que te tiene tumbado

Africana, Cubana, Dominicana, Colombiana...

Would it matter if I too were Americana

If I too were Mexicana, prieta pero paisana?

Why am I foreign to your eyes

when family lies between us

in blood ties

more than skin

the shape of your nose and eyes

your pyramids and mine

our ancestors intertwined

etched into the faces of rock

carved before the time when we forgot 

that there is so much more than 

skin deep.

So sure, take my picture

its yours to keep,

un recuerdo

of what is left 

unsaid and unseen

and yet is so very

visible, tangible, indelible, undeniably 

your DNA in mine. 

Eyerusalem

The Fifth Sense by Eyerusalem
I am on foreign land.
My senses are out of control.
Touch: my phone, held in my hands, or easy access in case I need to snap a picture
and the thick blanket of humid muffling me over my layer of sweat
Taste: the burst of flavor in my tacos dorados,
dipped in red sauce
Green if I am feeling a bit brave.
Hear: the beautiful language of Espanol.
The honks and beeps of the drivers on the street,
the words Buenos dias trails behind me
 as I walk past a group of Mexicans
every new word I hear, becomes a new word I've learned
and an opportunity for it to roll of my own tongue
Smell:
The intoxicating scent of sewage overcomes my nose
Fortunately, I have crossed the street and am now
inhaling the drool-worthy aroma of fresh enchiladas con pollo.
These four senses are working hard.
But there was something about the fifth sense,
sight.
Sight is helping me put two and two together
It helps me embrace and appreciate
the beauty of Veracruz.
I see a random man
helping an old woman bag her fruits.
I see color.
Everywhere.
Colors.
Patterns.
Everywhere.
My eyes are moving around. Trying to take everything in. All the faces,
all the colors,
all the statues,
buildings, architectures
everything.
But...
Where is everything else?
Where is everyone else?
Where is El Chapo and all the drug cartels
that CNN warns us about?
Where are the dangerous people?
Where are the burritos?
Where are all the Afro-Mexicans
 that my world history textbook told me about?
Are they not here?
Has El Chapo and the cartels been replaced by
love and care?
Are the dangerous people hiding away due to inferiority?
Have the Afro-Mexicans disintegrated due to hostility?
Maybe they don't exist
here in
Veracruz

Pyramids

By: Jordan Chaney

Jordan at the Pyramids

The buses’ seats are filled with half-sleeping travelers. Everyone has a liter and a half water bottle clutched in their lap. To get from Puerto de Veracruz to El Tajin you have to go on a wobbly 4 hour bus ride passing various small towns, murky rivers, rolling yellow hills, shrubbery, and greenery of all sorts. My neck is stiff, my legs are cramping and it would be an incredibly exhausting ride if it weren't for the AC being on full blast and if it weren't for the fact that we are heading to see ancient ruins! This is a life-long dream of mine and it’s finally coming true!!

After pitching and rolling through hills and waving good-bye to all of the doubts that this would ever truly happen we arrive in Papantla, the small town closest to the home of the Pyramids.

There are stray dogs limping through the streets, garbage piled up on street corners, and the stench of sewage in the air. It’s dirty, it’s grimy, the taxi drivers are seedy but kind, the town is humid; everything has a bead of sweat rolling from its brow. It’s absolutely beautiful and everything I wanted it to be!

Our driver is waving at every car we pass and honking his horn while letting out an emphatic “mi amigo!”. He’s proud of his town, his home, and his friends. His enthusiasm is contagious. I turn my head to the road in front of us; glossy-eyed and anxious like a kid in line at the fair.

Me and a few of the Many Voices One Tribe youth have been playing the dirty dozens with one another the whole trip, one of the many ways we have been entertaining ourselves and bonding throughout this experience. But as we approached Tajin, the dirty dozens subsided and curiosity and wonder set in…

We arrive.

My face is lit up like the north star. I hand the driver 70 pesos and mumble gracias with my eyes entranced on the path that leads to the ruins.

I can't feel my body intact, I am probably levitating. I feel that good! We find the rest of our group and begin swimming against the strongest current of street vendors known to man: women selling dresses, kids selling water, men selling hats, families selling almost anything you need or imagine! But it doesn't matter, adrenaline surges through my fins, my gills flare, and swim through it all.

When myself, Reagan, and the MVOT youth began our workshops 2 weeks prior to arriving to Veracruz I eluded to an epic spiritual story several times that I promised to only tell once we finally arrived at the pyramids. Over the span of that 2 weeks I would hint at it and the youth would sigh and roll their eyes and say things like “c’mon man just spill it already” or “shut up about the story already” playfully of course…

We successfully make it past the tidal wave of vendors and tourists and then the path opens up into ruin upon ruin, pyramid upon pyramid. The view pickpockets my lungs for its breath. I can't blink, I can't close my mouth. It had come true. The dream I had been dreaming my whole life grew arms and legs, walked up and bear hugged me.

Eyerusalem, my little buddy on this trip, that just so happens to be the smartest and most gentle 17 year old I have ever had the pleasure of meeting tugs on my shirt sleeve, bulges her eyes out at me and says “Your epic story? Are you gonna tell us now or what?”

I scanned the terrain, nodded my head towards a patch of trees, exhaled deeply and replied “yes”.

Reagan, Eyerusalem, Azeb, and Zion

Pics from Week 1 in Veracruz

Eyerusalem, Reagan, Jordan, Zion, Angelica, Azeb, and Dani

Dani showing us the quebradas at Villa Rica

Dani (one of our language teachers) and Eyerusalem, lunch at Villa Rica

The Library in Xalapa

Mojarra encebollada

Jordan and Azeb with the President of the State Human Right's Commision

Us with the President of the Human Right's Commission in his office

Eyerusalem and her new best friend Javier

Our friends at the Human Rights Commission

At the language school after class 

Zion and Eyerusalem in la Guaca (traditional neighborhood of Afro-Mexicans)

One of the Olmec heads at the Museum of Anthropology in Xalapa

Our new friend Karma

Zion hiking down the ruins of Quiahuitlan

Azeb's first dance at the Zocalo

A Chill Day

By: Reagan Jackson

Zion, Azeb, Jordan, Eyerusalem, and Reagan at El Tajin

It's quiet today, no raucous laughter from the ongoing stream of jokes and shade throwing, nor Spanglish chatter with whomever might be downstairs. For the moment its just me alone in my white stucco room with its long green curtains, light streaming in through the opaque glass of the balcony door. After huffing my way through zumba by the waterfront with David and Gabriel, I dragged myself home through the dense salty air to find everyone else taking advantage of the morning off to sleep in.

Today we will write. Having been here a full week, the youth have selected the focus of the articles they will be putting together and even conducted some preliminary interviews. Now they will craft pitches to be sent to their editor at the Seattle Globalist. Then we'll have lunch together. Paola, one of our instructors is making cheese empanadas. So far the best recipes I've gotten this trip have been from Angelica, another one of our instructors, who makes a blackberry pudding to die for.

After lunch everyone will have language lessons in the afternoon during which time I hope to visit our new friend Karma. Karma, once a student at the language school, has returned to Veracruz to live for the year while she is completing her dissertation through the University of Chicago. Her topic, Afro-Mexicans. She is a black woman from the States and in meeting her I saw the kids' eyes light up. This may be their first trip, but I can tell already that these three have a lot of world to see and meeting Karma seemed to make that idea more tangible to them.

After yesterday's arduous bus trip to Papantla to visit the pyramids of El Tajin we are all exhausted, but content. I am delighted for this brief respite of air conditioning and solitude and in general for the way this adventure is turning out so far. For those of you who know me or have been following my column in the Seattle Globalist, you know that this trip is years in the making. Its been my dream to create a study abroad program for young people of color and these young people have made the reality so much better than I had even imagined. In this short time, though it sounds cliche, we've become a family.

I wasn't sure what it would be like to bring a group of black folks to Veracruz, but its been fascinating. One of the things that sometimes irritates me about traveling while black is the picture taking. In Japan, this was especially an issue. Everyone everywhere always wanted to take my picture. I got my first glimpse of what it must be like to be chased by paparazzi. Here in Veracruz, I get the stares, we all do. There are the old women who want to pat my cheek and tell me how much they like my black skin, the catcalls of "morena"or "negra", and yes the random people who want to take my picture, but Zion, the darkest and tallest of us all, is the one everyone wants to take picture of now. "I feel like a low key Kim Kardashian or something" he confessed yesterday after we were mobbed by an entire family of Mexican tourist who wanted to take pictures of all of us, but then individually with only Zion. Rather than getting irritated, he seemed to enjoy his little photo shoot, and the next and the next.

Eyerusalem has been working on an article about comparative standards of beauty. She's snapped photos of every billboard between the here and the Zocolo and decided she wanted to take pictures of girls and women to compare the ads to the real women of Veracruz. Tables turned. I took the group to the Zocolo for their first experience of danzon, an elegant traditional form of ballroom dancing that the older generation is trying to revive. After a few loops around the square, Eyerusalem took out her camera and began approaching people to take their pictures. There were a few odd looks of confusion, not unlike what I usually feel when asked the same, but most people complied and there were lovely conversations started because it. And usually at the end, the subjects pulled out their own camera phones to take pictures with the group, but it didn't feel quite as objectifying because there was reciprocity and human connection.

Human connection. That's really the key to this whole experiment. Having taken over 200 youth abroad when I think about what moments have been the most transformative, what triumphs have stayed with me and lingered with them, its all about the times when we let our guard down and get to know another. There is something healing about our time together that I'm not yet able to articulate adequately, other than to say that I really needed this.

Last week was our week of excursions and frenetic activity. I walked everyone to the point of exhaustion, but it was worth it. In addition to language lessons, we visited the Veracruz Museum of the City, we traveled to the state capitol Xalapa and met with the Human Right's Commision. We visited the Museum of Anthropology, set on several acres of land and complete with indigenous plant life in addition to Olmec heads and an incredible replica of El Tajin. We visited the ruins of Quiahuitlzan and hiked down to the sparsely populated beach at Villa Rica before climbing up to the Quebraduras. We danced in the Zocolo, made friends with a street dancing clown, and made Jordan's wish come true by visiting the pyramids in Papantla.

This week our pace will be a little calmer. We will be spending a bit more time here in el Puerto. There will be beaches and museums, one last long bus ride to Yanga, but mostly it is a time for deeping in the writing and conducting interviews. Its time to explore the questions we have about this culture and to seek answers in the community.