Katie's Speech

Our group leader Katie gave an incredible speech at the mural presentation. There were undoubtedly tears in the audience and I felt so proud to be involved in something so amazing.

"Every year is unique and wonderful in its own way. This year, we were beyond fortunate to be embraced by the community of BRC. And they came with a high reputation to live up to! Everyone from Groundswell who had worked with BRC in the past couldn’t say enough about the wonderful summer we would have with the amazing residents and staff of 85 Lexington. It got to the point where I didn’t want to listen anymore because my hopes were too high. But high hopes were surpassed and never has the Voices Her’d project been so embraced as we were this summer. Every morning, the residents welcomed us in their rec room as we disrupted their morning news routines with our paint mixing, supplies transporting, daily check ins and paper work. Without complaint, Julio, Gavin and whoever else we could drag outside would tirelessly help us roll around, break down, build up, stabilize and repair our giant towers of scaffolding on wheels. The job of painting a mural this size takes a certain amount of patience and understanding with things like mess, noise, storage and other inconveniences. The BRC community welcomed the weight of a huge mural project with open arms.

"Each year when we choose a topic for Voices Her’d, we try to find one that resonates with populations of women both locally and globally. For the research component of the project, we look very specifically at statistics, interviews and other data that give us a deeper insight into the topic. What we found, when connecting the topics of health, education and poverty, was that the deeper we delved into the research, the more universal our imagery became. Struggles regarding health blended with issues of housing, education, immigration, etc., etc., etc. Broad topics of women’s physical health and economic status, were examined on a global as well as neighborhood by neighborhood scale led to considerations of self esteem and emotional health which led to conversations about relationships, and the most simple tool of survival- having someone who will listen to you and will speak to you honestly and out of love. So rather than have images arise that reflected most simply physical health, universal themes of struggle, solidarity, metamorphisis, hope and justice came from our drawings.

"When considering education, we looked locally at the variety of educational experiences available to various populations around the city. During the school year, we also examined global educational conditions for young women, particularly young women living in poverty. We considered the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights: Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and the strengthening of human rights and fundamental freedoms. Education became more than just memorization and getting good grades, to actually considering the world in which we live and how a true education must be able to liberate us from a predetermined future based on gender, class, race, nationality, etc.

"When we paint these murals, sometimes there arises the question, What is the point? People can get 10,000 hits on youtube in two days. This is a quiet block. Your message can be spread on a computer screen without all this mess of sweat and sun and paint, dirt, scaffolding. Why even bother? And the point is this: People need to have a voice and they must be listened to- the residents, all of us in Voices Her’d, the people passing by on the street. Everyone has stories and a voice. The powers that be are famous for taking that voice away from those they find to be too much woman, too dark, too poor, too different, too opinionated...So you make them listen. You make them listen and know that the point is that young people think critically about the environment in which they live and still have the ability to approach their world not out of fear by simply lashing out at their community, but out of love(gesture towards mural)- love for this idea of fundamental freedoms. They have a voice that will liberate them from the notion that they will be spoonfed a prescription future. One that says because they grew up in a certain neighborhood, in a certain economic class, without college educated or English speaking parents that they are limited. That this should be their diagnosis and prescription. With communities of women coming together in solidarity to speak and listen, to work and to hope, the notion of prescription futures for our women and our young people must end.

"It is a lofty aspiration to try to tackle the issues of local and global health, poverty and education in one mural. It is doubtful that the federal government will look at our mural tomorrow and come to an agreement on a health care plan that simply meets the needs of all people. It is unlikely that the developers surrounding us, working as quickly as possible to make more and more (empty) luxury condos will see this mural and convert their units into something truly affordable for working people desperate for a suitable home. As if people there somehow deserve housing more than people here. But our hope is that when people see our mural, they will see that what connects us is far greater than what divides us. We all have our struggles and we hope to find our way out. Sometimes we are the one who is stuck, water rushing over us- but sometimes we are the one planting a seed for someone else to make a change. Sometimes we are the one who demands for ourselves a better education, a stable home and job that treats us with dignity. Sometimes we advocate those things for others. We have all been the stone, curled up, eyes closed. We have all been the hope- shining light on those in our sphere. We all seek moments of feeling like the bird- mobile and free.

"This mural has a very solid, physical location. This image stays here. But I hope that the image, and the story behind it also lives here (gesture to heart) always. So when we need to speak, we know our voices are valid, even when it feels as though no one is listening. And when someone needs us to listen, we do so without judgment and without fear. The image lives within us when we make limited plans for our futures and then challenge them- whose plans are those? I have my own ideas what I’d like to do with my life, for my community. The image lives inside us when we think about giving up on someone we love, but instead support their next chance. The mural stays with us when we challenge power. When we challenge wealth and broken systems that say these people deserve good schools, nice homes, good health care. These people do not. When we speak out, and when we listen to one another, the mural will live far beyond 85 Lexington.

"Thank you to Groundswell for making all of this possible. You are an amazing gift to this city, to all of us. Thank you to BRC- residents and staff for all of your constant friendship, support, humor, teaching and love. Thank you to the girls- Mensha and our wonderful volunteers for coming every day with your optimism, your jokes, your hard work ethic, your generosity and all of your spirit. I am blessed by your friendship, blessed to have all of these little sisters. You make everyone here very hopeful. Thank you. "

Restrospect

I have taken a long break from blogging. Almost a year after the fact it is hard to recall all of the details from the amazing summer I spent with Groundswell. I did, however, right my college essay on the experience...

I spent my summer on scaffolding painting a mural on the face of a building in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn. The building was the home to the Bowery Residents Committee—an organization that eases the transition from homelessness to housing. The residents, like my group members, were all women. We hoped to create something that would reflect the struggle that the residents had endured and provide them with a sense of belonging. We wanted the mural to be just as much theirs as it was ours.

To ensure that this was truly a community-based effort, we planned a public sharing to include the residents of the underrepresented but transitional neighborhood in our research process and the mural design. The fifteen Voices Her’d “ladies,” as we came to be called, presented our progress and future plans two at a time to an audience of our parents, people who lived in the neighborhood, BRC employees, and the residents themselves. We stood next to a sketch of the proposed mural design as we spoke. Raspberri, a fellow muralist, and I spoke about the research process involved in designing the mural. Other pairs spoke about the colors, symbols gestures and themes. I didn’t know how the BRC residents and employees would receive us. I was afraid they would think we were presumptuous or wouldn’t like the sketch. More than anything, I hoped it wouldn’t seem as though the mural was something we were imposing on them. After the last pair spoke, Muzzy, the director of the entire BRC organization, stood up. While he was commending and thanking us for our work, I realized that he was crying. I undertook this job thinking it would be a nice summer experience, a fun way to make money. I hadn’t realized until then the significance of the mural and what it represented to the women for whom we were painting. For the first time, I was proud to be involved in the project.

The women of the BRC embraced us into their community and allowed us to set up camp in their recreation room. The mural was to be drawn from their views on and experiences with health care and education. The women were eager to involve themselves in our process and shared writing or illustrations that they had done. One woman, Isis, wrote a poem called “These Black Hands,” which was so inspiring that we decided to incorporate a pair of strong black hands as a central symbol in our mural.

The most valuable aspect of my summer job was by far the people that I worked with. The fifteen girls, two lead artists, and the one hundred BRC residents were a geographically, racially and socioeconomically diverse group of women who spent the summer making something together. Although we were all different ages and lived in different neighborhoods, as the summer progressed, my fellow muralists and I found that we had more in common than we had previously thought. Ify and I had long conversations about our experiences in Africa—hers in Nigeria and mine in Tanzania. Casey and I discovered that we had gone to the same elementary school. We did not know each other before this summer and would never have met had it not been for Groundswell, but we were able to bond through our mural.

Instead of communicating our ideas in writing or speech, we painted them on a quiet block in Brooklyn. I considered the effectiveness of this—you can quickly spread your message on the Internet without the hassle of dirt, sweat, and paint. What’s the point of a mural? Now that the summer is over and the mural is finished, I have learned that public art is a unique and valuable form of activism. Our effort consolidated the voices of the BRC residents and the Voices Her’d women. Before this summer, I thought that murals were purely decorative. Now when I see them, I look carefully for their message and I understand the consideration, communication and teamwork that go into creating them. It is doubtful that anyone in the federal government will see our mural, much less be influenced by it, but my hope is that when members of the community view it, they will see that what connects us is far greater than what divides us.

Figuring It All Out

After filling out endless paperwork I was told to report to Groundswell's office for an informal orientation. There were about six of us sitting at a table with a heavily tattooed woman, whose name I later learned was Jessica. She explained when we would begin work, how and when we would get paid, told us which of Groundswell's six murals we would participate in and answered any questions we had. I was curious as to what extent we would collaborate with our lead artist to design and paint the mural-- would it be a paint by numbers type of thing? I was told that I did not have to have any artistic ability  to be hired... so how would a bunch of unartistic kids produce a beautiful mural like ones that had been done in years past? Jessica seemed taken aback by my question and explained that everything is done collaboratively and that the lead artist is there to guide us. 

I was placed in Voices Her'd, a group made up entirely of girls. My lead artist was named Katie Yamasaki, and we would paint in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. I was a little nervous about being with fifteen girls all summer and was worried it would get catty. Four weeks into the program, I find it funny that I was ever concerned about this. The biggest disagreement that occurs among us is who has to wash the brushes at the end of the day. 

I'm a city girl all the way and I pride myself on my keen directional sense. Although I had heard of Bed Stuy, I didn't have any idea where it was. Even now when friends ask where I work, I get some eyebrow raises and doubletakes when I say Bed Stuy...it has a reputation for being a "bad" neighborhood. Nevertheless, I was excited that I would be able to explore a new part of Brooklyn. I usually take the Franklin Aventue shuttle to get to work and then walk the seven or eight blocks to 85 Lexington Avenue where we work. Today I rode my bike there for the first time. Contrary to common belief, Bed Stuy is adorable. It's an underdeveloped, cultured version of Park Slope. There are quaint brownstones on tree-lined streets. Restaurants on the major avenues boast cuisines from all over the world, and there are various African churches, museums, and eatteries, all of which are fairly uncommon in my experience in New York. However, the first buds of gentrification are blooming-- trendy bars and cute but overpriced cupcake shops display "Grand Opening" signs in the windows. I'd give Starbucks a year before it moves in. 

The Arduous Job Search

Late into my junior year of high school I began thinking about my plans for the summer. I knew that I needed to get a job--my mom made this quite clear to me. The idea of employment was a foreign concept to me; I had spent my past summers luxuriously, whether at sleep away camp, playing soccer in Barcelona or roaming Tanzania. I had never had a job, nor had I ever been responsible for anything other than doing my homework or maybe getting myself to soccer practice. I have been babysitting for the same family on a weekly basis since I was 10--work that did not require an application, a résumé or an interview. I also hadn't spent an entire summer in Brooklyn for as long as I could remember. 

I didn't know where to begin. I was overwhelmed with options... did I want to work at a café? An ice cream store? Urban Outfitters? I searched around for a place that was offering reasonable hours and a task that wouldn't be painfully boring. I came across the day camp I used to go to--Park Explorers--and remembered that the director had offered me a job when I was younger. I printed out the application and began filling it out. By page 3 I had realized that I was not interested in spending 9 hours a day, 5 days a week with screaming, sweaty kids. I didn't want to be a camp counselor-- it was too standard. I was looking for something unique, something that gave back to my community, something that I would remember 40 years from now. My mom was growing impatient with my indecisiveness and my lack of success. When April rolled around I was getting a little nervous myself. 

I first found out about Groundswell Community Mural Project through a friend who had already applied. I immediately went home and looked it up. Groundswell is a non-profit

 organization that uses "art as a tool for social change by creating high quality works of public art in under-represented neighborhoods." I realized that I had been driving past Groundswell murals for years but I hadn't associated them with the name. I also didn't know that they were done by kids. I loved the idea of using art to explore social issues, and I applied that day.

I attend The Beacon School, a public high school in Manhattan with a very politically aware student body. During school vacations it is not uncommon for a Beacon student to go to South Africa, New Orleans, Ecuador, or Thailand to do community service. Don't get me wrong-- I love to travel; however, I think that there are numerous community service opportunities that go unattended closer to home in New York City. One of the reasons I was attracted to Groundswell was because it enables city teenagers to serve their own communities. 

I entered a lottery for the Student Youth Employment Program (SYEP), a government program that provides New York City youth ages 14-25 with summer employment and educational opportunities. After about a month I was notified that I had made the lottery and would start work with Groundswell on July 1st, 2009.