"In school (in Venezuela) we learned about the United States' Civil War and slavery. I learned to have a negative view of the flag -- I basically associated the image of the flag with slavery, racism and the KKK," said Bermudez.
"In 1983, I was a college student in Texas and saw a group of KKK clansmen in their hooded robes, standing on a street corner yelling and waving the (Confederate) flag. My English was limited at the time, so I'm not sure what they were yelling, but I probably wouldn't want to know. It only happened once in the 12 years that I lived there, but that image stuck with me...
"This is very much what I feel and think about when I see that flag. It's just my personal feelings about it. It's an accumulation of the things I've seen, studied and read over the years," Bermudez said.
"When visiting the KKK website, the (Confederate) flag is used often. Recently, the KKK has had public meetings near (my home), which scares me because of their anti-Latino immigration sentiments."
Although the finished piece is how Bermudez sees the flag, not everyone agrees with his views. Public response to the piece was so strong that Gainesville State's administration asked that the picture be removed from the faculty showing in the Roy C. Moore Art Gallery on the college's Oakwood campus, Bermudez says. "I wasn't expecting that kind of feedback. I've been an artist for 25 years. I've always known that artwork can be powerful, but I never dreamed it would be this powerful to the point that I would be censored."
Instead of a painting, his artist's statement explaining what inspired the absent piece is now hanging in the gallery. The college declined to share with The Times any of the feedback that prompted the removal of the painting; however, at least one "Southern heritage" website described the painting as "despicable" and prompted visitors to contact Martha Nesbitt, the college's president, about the picture. Site administrators even posted her e-mail address and telephone number.
"Even though I don't agree with the decision to take it down, I do respect it," Bermudez said. "I know if I was in that kind of position, I'd have a difficult time making a decision, because it's a hard one to make."
It's fascinating to me that his objection to flag comes from a totally different perspective. Still it's a bit to literal for effete liberal taste.
Ta-Nehisi Coates is a national correspondent at The Atlantic, where he writes about culture, politics, and social issues. He is the author of The Beautiful Struggle and the forthcoming Between the World and Me.
California Representative Adam Schiff, the ranking Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee, has decided to come out in favor of the nuclear agreement.
Earlier this year, California Representative Adam Schiff, the ranking Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee, told me he had serious doubts about Iran’s intentions as it pursued a nuclear deal with the United States and five other world powers. He also said he was somewhat worried about the scale of possible American concessions during the talks. Schiff, who I described in a post at the time as a “moderate’s moderate,” suggested to me that he wanted to see President Obama achieve an important foreign-policy success, but as a Jew, he wanted to make sure that an anti-Semitic regime—both he and Obama agree that Iran is ruled by an anti-Semite—would not be allowed to become a nuclear-weapons state. At the time, he told me he was “uncommitted” and that he would “remain uncommitted” until he had time to review a final deal, should a final deal materialize.
Paul faced danger, Ani and Ray faced each other, and Frank faced some career decisions.
This is what happens when you devote two-thirds of a season to scene after scene after scene of Frank and Jordan’s Baby Problems, and Frank Shaking Guys Down, and Look How Fucked Up Ray and Ani Are, and Melancholy Singer in the Dive Bar Yet Again—and then you suddenly realize that with only a couple episodes left you haven’t offered even a rudimentary outline of the central plot.
The Internet is awash with guides for finding success on the crowdfunding website Kickstarter. A quick search yields (in numerical order):
“6 Tips From Kickstarter on How to Run a Successful Crowdfunding Campaign”
“Crowdfunding Secrets: 7 Tips For Kickstarter Success”
“8 Things I Learned From My (Failed) Kickstarter Campaign”
“Kicking Ass & Taking Donations: 9 Tips on Funding Your Kickstarter Project”
“10 Tips I Wish I Knew Before I Launched My Kickstarter Campaign”
And so on.
But the best advice to those seeking money online might sound more like this: Be thin, fair-skinned, and attractive.
It is true that in many realms, crowdfunding has delivered on its democratic promise. Take female entrepreneurship: It’s been shown that professional investors have consistently view pitches from men more favorably than those from women, even when the content of those pitches was the same. Kickstarter has subverted that. On the site, projects launched by women are more likely to secure funding than those started by men.
This is the fifth in a series. Readers are invited to send their own responses to firstname.lastname@example.org, and we will post their strongest critiques of the book and the accompanied reviews. To further encourage civil and substantive responses via email, we are closing the comments section. You can follow the whole series on Twitter at #BTWAM, or to read other responses to the book from Atlantic readers and contributors.
I’m not qualified to judge Between the World and Me on its literary merit. I read this elegant little book for what it says about my own work and that of others who labor to reduce youth violence.
Two hundred fifty years of slavery. Ninety years of Jim Crow. Sixty years of separate but equal. Thirty-five years of racist housing policy. Until we reckon with our compounding moral debts, America will never be whole.
And if thy brother, a Hebrew man, or a Hebrew woman, be sold unto thee, and serve thee six years; then in the seventh year thou shalt let him go free from thee. And when thou sendest him out free from thee, thou shalt not let him go away empty: thou shalt furnish him liberally out of thy flock, and out of thy floor, and out of thy winepress: of that wherewith the LORD thy God hath blessed thee thou shalt give unto him. And thou shalt remember that thou wast a bondman in the land of Egypt, and the LORD thy God redeemed thee: therefore I command thee this thing today.
— Deuteronomy 15: 12–15
Besides the crime which consists in violating the law, and varying from the right rule of reason, whereby a man so far becomes degenerate, and declares himself to quit the principles of human nature, and to be a noxious creature, there is commonly injury done to some person or other, and some other man receives damage by his transgression: in which case he who hath received any damage, has, besides the right of punishment common to him with other men, a particular right to seek reparation.
Writing used to be a solitary profession. How did it become so interminably social?
Whether we’re behind the podium or awaiting our turn, numbing our bottoms on the chill of metal foldout chairs or trying to work some life into our terror-stricken tongues, we introverts feel the pain of the public performance. This is because there are requirements to being a writer. Other than being a writer, I mean. Firstly, there’s the need to become part of the writing “community”, which compels every writer who craves self respect and success to attend community events, help to organize them, buzz over them, and—despite blitzed nerves and staggering bowels—present and perform at them. We get through it. We bully ourselves into it. We dose ourselves with beta blockers. We drink. We become our own worst enemies for a night of validation and participation.
In departing from the religious rhetoric of hope and focusing on the “struggle,” Ta-Nehisi Coates retains the ability to relate to his multiple audiences.
When you review Ta-Nehisi Coates in The Atlantic lots of people email you to tell you what you should have said. In this final installment of the Between the World and Me Book Club, I’m exercising some privilege by responding to some of that feedback.
Many white readers seem confused about my interpretation of the book as two texts in the first of three essays. To put a finer point on that, this book’s primary audience is white people. That is not to say that the book doesn’t also appeal to other readers, but rather, that the literary device of a book written as an open letter describes a racial reality that would only surprise white readers. And Coates goes about filling in those holes with remarkable effect for all readers. For example, Coates’s parental anxieties translate into a brilliantly bracing critique of capitalism that deftly links the history of enslaved labor to everything from global inequality to climate change.
Fetal-tissue research enjoyed bipartisan support amid decades-long efforts to revoke government funding to Planned Parenthood.
Republican calls to defund Planned Parenthood over its handling of fetal tissue for research are louder than ever. But they form just the latest episode in a decades-long drive to halt federal support for the group.
This round of attacks aims squarely at the collection of fetal tissue, an issue that had been mostly settled—with broad bipartisan support—in the early 1990s. Among those who voted to allow federal funding for fetal tissue research was Senator Mitch McConnell, now the majority leader.
McConnell made no mention of his previous position on the issue when he announced that the Senate would take up a bill to cut off Planned Parenthood’s access to federal funds before leaving for its summer break. The first vote on the bill is expected as soon as Monday.
Bernie Sanders and Jeb Bush look abroad for inspiration, heralding the end of American exceptionalism.
This election cycle, two candidates have dared to touch a third rail in American politics.
Not Social Security reform. Not Medicare. Not ethanol subsidies. The shibboleth that politicians are suddenly willing to discuss is the idea that America might have something to learn from other countries.
The most notable example is Bernie Sanders, who renewed his praise for Western Europe in a recent interview with Ezra Klein. “Where is the UK? Where is France? Germany is the economic powerhouse in Europe,” Sanders said. “They provide health care to all of their people, they provide free college education to their kids.”
On ABC’s This Week in May, George Stephanopoulos asked Sanders about this sort of rhetoric. “I can hear the Republican attack ad right now: ‘He wants American to look more like Scandinavia,’” the host said. Sanders didn’t flinch:
Even when a dentist kills an adored lion, and everyone is furious, there’s loftier righteousness to be had.
Now is the point in the story of Cecil the lion—amid non-stop news coverage and passionate social-media advocacy—when people get tired of hearing about Cecil the lion. Even if they hesitate to say it.
But Cecil fatigue is only going to get worse. On Friday morning, Zimbabwe’s environment minister, Oppah Muchinguri, called for the extradition of the man who killed him, the Minnesota dentist Walter Palmer. Muchinguri would like Palmer to be “held accountable for his illegal action”—paying a reported $50,000 to kill Cecil with an arrow after luring him away from protected land. And she’s far from alone in demanding accountability. This week, the Internet has served as a bastion of judgment and vigilante justice—just like usual, except that this was a perfect storm directed at a single person. It might be called an outrage singularity.