Amid diversity, equity and inclusion efforts at the University of Utah’s College of Nursing, Jenneth Doria is hopeful for the nurses of tomorrow

Story by ROSE SHIMBERG

Jenneth Doria has never forgotten the gifts that her father brought home when she was a girl living in Tondo, an impoverished coastal district in Manila, Philippines.

They weren’t candies or toys or fancy appliances. They couldn’t be quickly devoured, broken from play or rendered useless by rust. They were encyclopedias — heavy, leather-bound volumes that as a set encompassed everything there was to know about the world. They were knowledge itself.

“Ever since we were young,” Doria said in a Zoom interview, “we were ingrained with the power of education.”

Education was what allowed Doria to leave the Phillippines after college for a career as a Registered Nurse in the United States. She was speaking from LAX, on her way back to the Philippines with IHHELPP, an organization she founded to build disaster-resilient infrastructure in her native country. She said her heart has always been in giving back to the people there.

Doria (left) and colleagues outside of Dueg Resettlement Elementary School. The organization built a disaster-resilient classroom for students.

At the age of 53, after raising seven children, she returned to school at the University of Utah to earn her master’s degree in nursing education. She then earned her DNP to share her knowledge with the next generation. And since 2015, she has been a professor in the College of Nursing.

Filipinos have long been a major nursing workforce in the United States. Doria, who initially wanted to study business, was encouraged to pursue nursing by her mother, who knew it meant an opportunity to escape from poverty. The career has allowed her to follow her passion — helping others.

“Culturally, it aligns with our values,” she said. “We take care of our elderly, we take care of our family, it’s kind of ingrained with us. So it comes naturally for a Filipino to become a nurse.”

And despite an unprecedented strain on nurses and a rise in anti-Asian attacks, Doria is hopeful about the future of nursing in this country. She’s not alone: starting in 2020 the College of Nursing has ramped up its efforts to strive for equity among students and faculty alike.

Nurses have been in the spotlight since the coronavirus pandemic began, showcasing the extreme sacrifices they were making on the frontlines. Troubling statistics emerged about Filipino nurses: recent reports found that Filipino Americans represent just 4% of American nurses but accounted for 25% of nurse deaths attributed to COVID-19.

Jenneth Doria hands out hygiene and school supplies on a trip to the Philippines with IHHELP.

Although there’s no way to be certain of the cause, the disproportionate rate of COVID-19 deaths among Filipino healthcare workers has been attributed to several different factors. TIME reported that foreign-educated nurses are frequently sent to hospitals that have trouble retaining American-born nurses. These are places that are understaffed, underfunded and have limited access to personal protective equipment.

Filipino nurses often work in bedside and critical care units. Dedicated to providing the best possible care for their patients, they’re likely to work long hours and go above and beyond, increasing their risk of exposure to illness.

The pandemic has also led to a dramatic increase in anti-Asian hate crimes nationwide. A 2022 report found that mental health concerns among Asian American frontline workers during the pandemic “were compounded by concurrent anti-Asian racism and violence.”

But despite burnout, a continued rise in anti-Asian hate and a nationwide nursing shortage, Doria is, overwhelmingly, optimistic about the next generation.

“This is what I tell my students,” she said. “There’s been so much burnout now. Because we’ve been really severely impacted by this pandemic. But I tell them, you’ve gotta look beyond the hospital walls. Even if it’s not nursing per se, reach out to other things so that you’re really addressing your well-being. What makes you happy? What gives you joy?”

Doria’s optimism mirrors the outlook of the College of Nursing, which is taking action to address these issues both in the classroom and the workplace. The college is exploring big questions with complex answers. How can it attract more diverse groups of people to nursing? And how can it retain the students and faculty that it already has?

“It feels to me like a constant search,” said Valerie Flattes in a Zoom interview. She was named the associate dean for equity, diversity and inclusion when the position was created in July 2021.

Flattes is in charge of implementing action strategies to recruit and retain a more diverse faculty and student body. She emphasized that many of the issues are systemic and come down to undoing years of bias in the healthcare system. But she, too, is hopeful about the college’s efforts.

“I always approach it from the positive,” Flattes said. “We’re trying to change what we teach our students, how we interact with our students.”

The college is undergoing a full curriculum review to remove bias and discrimination in all forms from its course materials. It now intends to include anti-racist content in every course, with anti-racism training provided for students and faculty alike.

Flattes has been a faculty member since 2001. And although change has been slow, she has seen a profound difference since she started teaching.

“At one point there was me, and there was another Black faculty, and another Asian faculty,” she said. But the numbers keep growing. There are now Asian faculty in every department and the college plans to hire more.

Despite the efforts of the U and other institutions, faculty from minority groups with advanced nursing degrees account for just 16% of full-time appointments. With minority groups making up around a third of Americans, the disparity is clear.

The state’s overwhelming whiteness deters some professorial candidates from coming to Utah, Flattes said. But she’s noticed that many people realize it’s not as bad as they expected.

Doria said she loves working at the University of Utah.

“I invested in a college of nursing because I truly feel that I am valued,” she said. “I am so grateful to work with talented, competent and wonderful colleagues.”

Essential in the mission to recruit more diverse faculty is the need to remove the barriers discouraging diverse students from attending nursing school. A 2007 paper listed some of these: cost, admission criteria heavily hinged on GPA and standardized test scores, internalized bias and lack of representation on admissions committees.

There is a cyclical nature to this quest. Higher enrollment of diverse students in nursing and higher education programs results in increased diversity among nursing faculty. And the more diverse faculty present, the more attractive a college will be for students of color. The American Association of Colleges of Nursing stated that a lack of nursing educators from minority groups could warn potential students of barriers to advancement into faculty positions. A more diverse faculty could have the opposite effect, one of encouragement.

“I appreciate our mission to support a diverse student population,” Doria said. Alongside Flattes, she is a member of the Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Outreach committee acting to identify and address racial bias in the college’s curriculum, recruitment and hiring processes. For Doria, this pursuit will further the ultimate goal of the profession — helping others.

A nursing workforce that is not only more diverse but also more educated about healthcare’s persistent inequities will provide all patients with a higher standard of care. Even if they don’t pursue formal educator roles, nurses can still teach and inspire the people around them. 

“Our students interact with people in the community, and they can be the best ambassadors for us in encouraging people to apply to nursing,” Flattes said. She recalled doing exactly that when she worked as a nurse and met patients who wished that they’d gone into the field.

Although progress feels slow-moving, Flattes, Doria and their colleagues are hard at work. Anti-racist curriculum, bias training, recruitment strategizing and research are all on the agenda. Flattes believes that the most important thing she can do is keep talking to people and educating them on the importance of these issues.

“There is a long way to go,” she said. “But we’re getting closer every day.”

On being Asian American in white America

Story by ASIA BOWN

Being a minority in a white community proves to be an exhausting experience for many Asian Americans. They do not look like a majority of their peers and therefore experience a level of separation from them, as well as both implicit and explicit racism.

These instances of racism inspire internal conflict in some Asian Americans. While stereotypes are widely disliked, some Asian Americans find that they identify with them, which can lead to slight identity crises. 

In the absence of a bustling Asian American community, there isn’t a void. People find their own ways to build communities that allow them to be themselves without having to field questions about their identities. 

Racism and feeling like an “other”

“When you’re a kid, you get singled out for your otherness,” said Brian Pham, a senior at the University of Utah, about his childhood in white South Jordan, a city 15 miles south of Salt Lake City.

He often felt singled out for being Asian. As one of the few Asian kids, racial slurs were cast his way at school and he heard his fair share of rude comments about his Asianness. It was the racism he faced from adults, however, that made the biggest impression. 

University of Utah senior Brian Pham poses for a photo taken by a close friend, Nick Tygeson. Photo courtesy of Brian Pham.

Pham described an incident regarding a gym teacher in middle school. “He couldn’t figure me out,” he recalled, recounting that the teacher said, “You have the hair of a Jap [Japanese person] and the last name of a Chinese [person].”

These sorts of explicit racism and microaggressions proved to be extremely exhausting for Pham. He said he feels like he constantly has to explain himself and his identity as an Asian American person, to explain what he is and is not.  

Pham referenced Cathy Park Hong’s “Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning” and called discussions about his Vietnamese American heritage ontological. He isn’t just explaining his heritage. The reality is much more philosophical than that.

He pulled the book out of his backpack and flipped through it to locate a favorite passage. “Patiently educating a clueless white person about race is draining,” he read from the book. “It takes all your powers of persuasion. It’s like explaining to a person why you exist, or why you feel pain, or why your reality is distinct from their reality. The person has all of Western history, politics, literature and mass culture on their side proving that you don’t exist.”

Pham added that he cannot shed his Asian American identity when he wants to avoid racist people, nor can he choose to “turn it on” when it might help him secure benefits like scholarships.

Wanting to take a break from your identity is rooted not in shame, but fatigue. Like Hong wrote in “Minor Feelings,” being Asian is having to offer a series of explanations defending your entire existence and having to explain why you are or aren’t a certain way. 

These microaggressions and experiences with racism aren’t unique to Pham’s experience. Katrina Mỹ Quyên Lê, a senior at the University of Utah, experienced a slew of racist conversations and actions directed at her Vietnamese and Chinese background while growing up in Taylorsville, Utah.

Katrina My Quên Lê stands in front of San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, photographed by Jaina Lee. Photo courtesy of Katrina My Quên Lê.

When she was in third grade, Lê’s teacher repeatedly told her parents that they should enroll her in English as a second language classes. Lê noted that this wouldn’t have been a problem if her English wasn’t good, but she was reading and writing at similar levels to her white peers. 

Her teacher’s comments were based on racist stereotypes rather than actual instances Lê had demonstrated she needed extra help.

As a kid, she also fielded racist comments from her classmates. Kids made fun of her food, telling her how gross it was. In eighth grade, one boy walked up to her and said some version of, “ping pang wing wang wong.”

Later, her family faced racist comments from neighbors after hosting a barbecue. Unbeknownst to them, such activities had been temporarily banned as a result of a recent fire. Neighbors confronted her parents, asking them if they could speak English. 

Lê’s family wasn’t aware of the ban.

It’s instances like these that may seem small to some people, but leave lasting impressions on the people that have to endure them. 

Internal conflict and learning to celebrate Asian identities

Along with the explicitly racist comments, Lê’s Vietnamese and Chinese heritage often bore the target of implicit racism. Kids at school would ask her if she was good at math or science because she was Asian. 

Not only were these assumptions annoying on a surface level, they also became the subject of internal conflict. Lê was good at math and science, but not because she was Asian. She worked hard and wanted to succeed, but these traits, too, are often interwoven with the perceived Asian American identity. 

As a STEM major, Lê continues to fit the stereotype, but she wanted to be seen as more than that. In fighting the nerdy Asian American trope, she discovered that the best way to feel comfortable in her identity was to create and embody a sort of counterculture that works against the stereotypes, one that’s even stronger.

She aims to feel empowered by her Asian American identity, not held down by it. Salt Lake City Council Member Darin Mano feels similarly about his Japanese American heritage. Mano said he finds inspiration through his Asian heritage that he hopes to channel in his work in city council.

“I don’t want to be beyond racial difference — I want to celebrate it,” Mano said of his identity philosophy in a Zoom interview.

Mano may be a city councilmember for one district, but he said he considers himself to be a representative of the entire Asian American community in Utah. He seeks to help his community through legislation and representation in local politics.

His achievements in race politics include the creation of a commission that governs racial equality in policing with only Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) in leadership. For Mano, this was an important step in advancing legislation for people of color, including Asian people.

The commission is also the first to compensate its members for their service. Mano said people expect BIPOC people to do work for free, and in achieving this goal he was able to champion people of color and ensure greater representation.

Building their own communities

While living in a predominantly white area can beleaguer people’s efforts to identify with a larger Asian American community, it does not appear to stop them from building their own communities in which they feel comfortable in their Asian identities.

Pham and Lê grew up and live in white areas, but they’ve managed to find communities wherein their identities are accepted and embraced. They have tight-knit friendships and family groups where they can practice their cultures and create their own traditions. 

Instead of fostering jealousy over the long-held traditions of other families and cultures, Pham is starting his own. On Thanksgiving, his family makes platters of Vietnamese food for everyone to eat, but every year someone will attempt to make a traditional American turkey. Regardless of its success, it’s an aspect of an American holiday that his family has taken and made their own.

Pham said that he’s continuing to build his cultural identity through creating new reasons and ways of celebrating holidays and other parts of life. It’s through these traditions that he can also celebrate his identity.

Lê finds solace in talking about her experiences with friends who can relate. She said that most of the comfort she finds in her community comes from time spent together eating, talking, cooking, and simply being with one another. 

They share their experiences of racism, questions they have about their identities, and they reckon with their own feelings about their identities. Not all of their conversations are so heavy, though, and this balance in her relationships brings her comfort and a sense of belonging.

Mano has also spent the majority of his life in Utah, making a large non-Asian population normal for him. Despite this, he feels a deep sense of community with those around him. He cares about his neighbors and has taken on the responsibility of advocating for Asian Americans in Salt Lake City.

The otherness that Pham discussed may seem like it could inspire feelings of loneliness, but there appears to be a certain resilience among Asian Americans. They don’t abandon all hopes of a community just because they aren’t surrounded by other Asians. Their community-building process consists of gathering the people who make them feel safe and celebrating their identities in various ways.

Pham, Lê, and Mano don’t feel hindered by the absence of a large Asian American community. Instead, they choose to champion their individual communities and work within them to celebrate their identities and cultures.

U of U Asian Americans reflect on affirmative action

Story by ANDRE MONTOYA

Serena Marie Aeschilman is currently studying for her master’s degree in Computer Science and is an ASUU senator for the College of Engineering. Photo provided by Serena Marie Aeschilman.

After she had earned an internship opportunity, Serena Aeschilman, a computer science student at the University of Utah, recalled feeling happy. However, she also recalled being told, “‘you only got that because they’re looking for diversity.’”

Because she is a female Asian American student in the field of engineering, Aeschilman wasn’t sure which type of discrimination she was facing from such a comment. However, she did know the legitimacy of her success was being called into question.

Two intertwined factors have challenged the validity of the successes of Asian Americans, a long-standing set of policies known as affirmative action and a stereotype that has persisted for years known as the model minority myth. Now, past and present U students reflect on the link between the two and their personal experiences.

Affirmative action is being challenged in the Supreme Court by Students for Fair Admissions, who allege that Harvard and other Ivy League universities discriminated against them based on their race. Some of the students in this group are Asian American.

“Personally, I support affirmative action and I hope that universities will still be able to use that as a criterion,” said Darin Mano, former adjunct professor of architecture and a U alumnus, in a Zoom interview with Voices of Utah. “It’s not a criterion of ‘are students capable of succeeding at that school,’ it’s ‘how can we create the best educational experience?’”

According to the U’s Office of Equal Opportunity, Affirmative Action, and Title IX, the university does enforce affirmative action but states there are no quotas and says, “These decisions should never be based on someone’s status based on gender or race and all candidates must meet the minimum qualifications for the position.”

Enrollment rates for first-time Asian American freshmen, undergraduate students, and graduate students all hovered at around 6% for Fall 2020, according to the U’s Office of Budget and Institutional Analysis.

Asian students are among the smallest racial demographics at the University of Utah. Graph by Andre Montoya.

In Fall 2019 at the U, Asian students had the highest graduation rate when compared to other racial demographics, with over 80% of Asian students graduating, according to a diversity report from College Factual.

Though the U does not have a large Asian student body, it is a place of achievement for them.

Mano, who now represents District 5 on the Salt Lake City City Council, remembered that the lack of diversity on campus was difficult at times.

“Oftentimes I felt like I was the only minority in most of my classes at the University of Utah,” Mano said when reflecting on his time at the U. “So, I really cherish the experience of being at a place where they were able to select what the makeup of the student body was going to be so they could ensure there were diverse voices.”

Opponents of affirmative action ask that when it comes to the educational experience, how can it be known whether a student of color who was picked was the most qualified of the pool of potential students? They also ask, how can it be an achievement for students of color if they begin from a perceived disadvantaged position?

Sunwhee Park is studying global communication and is a member of ASUU. Photo provided by Sunwhee Park.

“How many qualified POC (people of color) have been denied opportunities in the past simply because of their race and ethnicity, and how many less-than-qualified white people have been given those same opportunities because of historical precedent?” U student Sunwhee Park said in an email. “I encourage people to think about how the status quo became the status quo, and remind themselves that things aren’t correct just because they’ve always been that way.”

Park, a member of the Associated Students of the University of Utah (ASUU), views affirmative action as a way of demonstrating that people of color can be just as successful when given the same opportunities as white Americans and in the larger picture, create a future where such policies are no longer needed.

But with Asian American students doing well at the University of Utah and supposedly being too successful to be accepted into Harvard, what is holding them back?

Sociologist William Peterson coined the term “model minority” in a January 1966 article for New York Times magazine. The article, “Success Story, Japanese-American Style,” was meant as praise for the Japanese Americans who had spent two decades post-World War II positioning themselves as powerful and successful.

The model minority moniker has typically been applied to East Asian Americans to characterize them as exemplary when it comes to achieving the American Dream regarding the areas of education, employment, and wealth.   

At first glance, one might assume that the model minority myth is a compliment since it praises the accomplishments of Asian Americans and places them as admired and successful members of American society. But its detractors say it’s more akin to a double-edged sword.

“It’s incredibly patronizing and downright fake,” Park said. “The concept doesn’t change how Asians are viewed as perpetual foreigners and still aren’t accepted into many parts of the American cultural and historical narratives.”

The model minority myth uplifts Asian Americans to the level of what white Americans have deemed successful. It’s only a compliment because it separates Asians from other races and accepts them into white spaces, Park said.

As the social and cultural fallout of the coronavirus pandemic in America has shown, Asian Americans are accepted, but only to a certain extent.

Aeschilman, the computer science student, reflected on the amount of anger she felt when confronted with the rise of anti-Asian racism. With the support she felt from the Asian American Student Association chapter at the U, she decided to take her feelings and put them toward something constructive.

Even though she had helped organize a rally in support of Asian Americans, Aeschilman wanted to do more. In January 2022, she wrote a letter to the Utah Daily Chronicle summarizing her feelings, simply titled, “I Am So Angry.”

“I felt like I wasn’t heard when it came to how I felt, or the experiences I’ve had,” Aeschilman said when explaining why she decided to write her letter.

In the letter, she described her experiences facing microaggressions, and how the model minority myth ultimately drowns out the voices of Asian Americans when they speak out against them. But she implores others to reflect on their privileges and support the efforts of the less privileged.

“What I say doesn’t necessarily reflect the experiences of every Asian American here [at the U],” Aeschilman said, “but I feel like everyone should be heard.”

The marvelous teaching of Matthew Okabe

Story and photos by ANDRE MONTOYA

“Teaching is valuable because it really is an art,” Matthew Okabe said.

Originally, Matthew Okabe did not see himself becoming a teacher. However, now that he has dedicated over a decade of his life to teaching, he knows that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Teaching is valuable because it really is an art,” Okabe said in an email interview. “Kids know who really cares. Without teachers, we would be in for a very bleak future.”

His passion for working with kids started when he took a job at a daycare center, when he was in high school.

“I loved helping during homework time and playing various games with the kids,” Okabe said.

When he went to college, he majored in business, but after a year he knew it wasn’t for him. Inspired by his interactions with the kids at the daycare, Okabe decided to pursue teaching.

Okabe earned a Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education from Brigham Young University and a master’s degree in Education in Curriculum Studies with an emphasis on being a reading specialist from the University of Hawai’i, Manoa.

A graduation gift a student made for Okabe.

He started teaching the fourth and fifth grades at Mountain View Elementary School in the Glendale neighborhood of Salt Lake City in 2010 and taught sixth grade for one year at Glendale Middle School.

Although Okabe is a seasoned educator, the onset of the coronavirus pandemic created new challenges for schools. But Okabe’s passion for teaching and his students has kept him steady throughout.

Since he began teaching, Okabe has gained the admiration of his students and his colleagues.

“He is just a lovable guy,” said Tina Misaka, a fellow teacher at Mountain View Elementary, in a Zoom interview. “He is awesome and willing to go the extra mile.”

Misaka, who teaches dance, recalled struggling to convince students to get out of their comfort zone and move. To her surprise, Okabe began dancing himself.

“He was really good,” Misaka said. “By having a teacher participate, the kids can see that they can also be vulnerable that way. It was awesome that he was willing to do that.”

In a newsletter posted in March 2022, Salt Lake City School District Superintendent Timothy Gadson III compared the district and its community to a village, saying, “We are a village, and when we work together toward a common goal, providing a world-class education for our children, we will attain success.”

“When we look at a village, we have everyone within that community working toward a collective goal of our school district. That goal should be the success and the achievement of our students,” Gadson said in a Zoom interview. “The teachers are at the ground level. They’re mentoring students, they’re nurturing them making sure students have exactly what they need to contribute to their success.”

During the coronavirus pandemic, teachers have faced an incredible strain. They have had to act as enforcers, encouraging students to social distance or wear their masks. Additionally, they’ve had to adapt to the constant switching between distanced and in-person learning, all on top of their many other responsibilities as educators.

“I think teachers are human like anyone else and that load can become too overwhelming, it can become too much,” Gadson said. “We sometimes forget they’re human, we think that they’re superhuman, but we’ve got to respect the human side of the teacher.”

Inspirational messages from students on Okabe’s classroom door. They say things like “you matter” and “never give up no matter what.”

According to a poll conducted by GBAO Strategies on behalf of the National Education Association in January 2022, the bulk of stress educators are undergoing currently can be attributed to the new slew of challenges the coronavirus pandemic has caused.

That same poll found that more than half of educators are looking to leave their professions earlier than they had initially thought.

There is a community on TikTok that Okabe dubs “Teacher Quit Tok” that showcases teachers who have quit their jobs and found prosperity elsewhere. Though Okabe knows he’s only seeing the videos because of TikTok’s algorithm, he does not see himself quitting his job.

“I don’t feel as though I could leave the profession,” Okabe said.

Gadson has praised the perseverance of teachers as they have navigated the new challenges the pandemic has caused.

“When they had to go online, many of our teachers had not taught online before and it was not a part of their programs when they were in college. But they ramped up, they did exactly what they needed to do to ensure learning continued with students,” Gadson said.

Okabe recalled the struggles that occurred in the early days of the pandemic, such as students not having access to materials, computers, or even the internet at home.

“It was a Friday the 13th and it was just a couple of weeks before spring break,” Okabe said, when remembering the day in March 2020 that Salt Lake City School District closed schools. “We were not ready to transition our classrooms to a full online model. Because of that, there was a steep learning curve for teachers and students.”

Misaka, the dance teacher, who was also adapting to the new remote way of teaching at the time, recalled that Okabe would visit the homes of students who were falling behind to ensure they were doing all right.

“Kids, especially in this area [Glendale] aren’t coming to school and they’re not excited about school because they’ve been home,” Misaka said. “He’s helping them find independence and confidence so that they can do well themselves.”

Now that he can teach in-person again, Okabe is happy and grateful to interact with his students face-to-face and is optimistic about the future.

“I don’t feel as though I could leave the profession. I genuinely enjoy interacting with my students. I enjoy teaching them, helping them learn, watching them grow,” Okabe said. “Sounds corny … sure. But having the opportunity to impact this many lives in a meaningful way is an amazing opportunity that I don’t see in many professions.”

From suffering to redemption: Asian American Floyd Mori tells his story

Floyd Mori shares how, besides the pain, violence and discrimination, there is still love to give to the Asian American communities.

Story by LEYRE CASARIN

Sometimes you don’t need to be a superhero to do great things. Often, it is enough to simply give love and complete your work with dedication, commitment, and passion. As Floyd Mori did and does, showing uncommon courage.

Shiro Floyd Mori is a farm boy.

He is the seventh of eight children, who was raised in Utah by principled parents and long-suffering siblings. 

Floyd Mori, in the front row, with his older brothers Nobuo, Tom, and Shig in about 1944. All photos courtesy of Floyd Mori.

“I benefited greatly from my older siblings’ example and reputation they had of being stellar students,” he said in an email interview. 

Mori’s father emigrated from Japan in 1906 at age 16. Originally a worker at the railroad in Utah and then a farmer, his goal was to give and help the family have a better situation.

His father returned to Japan to find a wife when he was 30. He did and brought her to the U.S., where they settled in Cache Valley in northern Utah in 1921.

Because of language barriers, Mori’s parents were occasionally speaking English and conducted a social life more at home and at the farm. Mori and his younger brother helped till they left for college.

“Yes, my parents had their struggle with prejudice, but my father was very honorable and soon gained respect from neighbors all of whom were white,” he wrote in the email.

Japanese Americans and other Asians in the U.S. had suffered from racial prejudice and fear for decades. Discriminatory laws that prevented Asian Americans from owning lands, voting, testifying against whites in court and other racial discriminatory laws existed before World War II.

But that brought even more pain to the Mori family. Two of his older brothers got drafted into the U.S. Army and served during World War II. But one of them died while serving.

“It was a major loss to a Japanese family,” Mori said. “My mother suffered greatly and was depressed for years after his death. She regained much self-regard when she and my father joined the LDS (Mormon) Church in their later years.”

As if that wasn’t enough, in 1942, President Roosevelt authorized the secretary of war to prescribe certain areas as military zones, paving the way for the incarceration of Asian Americans in U.S. detention camps. The overwhelming majority of the inmates were Japanese Americans.

“So, during WWII much of the pride turned into shame because of the way they were treated. WWII was depressing for Japanese-born as well as U.S.-born Japanese. Besides being denied citizenship they were sent to desolate concentration camps just because of who they were,” Mori said.

Mori confirmed that the “generation of Asians that experienced a catastrophe in their lives are bound to become depressed with the results. WWII did that to me as I was a child when war was in progress and saw the negative caricatures and ugly depiction of the enemy at that time.”

Allyson Drayton, who is a National Certified Counselor, has written about racial trauma. Mental, physical and emotional health problems associated with racial trauma really build up over time. 

Mori added that he was ashamed of his identity, of who he was, and he avoided all that was Japanese in his youth, such as Japanese food. He was beaten up by older boys when he was a kid. During his teenage years, girls’ mothers would not allow them to date him.

Mori wrote that racial trauma is in violence, hate and taunting: that became part of their lives.

Violence has always been there but more recently recognized by society at large.

“My father-in-law lost a thriving business, his home, his dignity when he was forced from Los Angeles during WWII,” he said. “There was never a recovery from this trauma.”

Floyd Mori with the then Vice President Joe Biden in Washington, D.C. 

Mori added, “There is shame, embarrassment, and humiliation because of these violent treatments Asians receive.”

But from all this suffering, he made his way to redemption. Floyd Mori acted: a powerful weapon against pain.

He became an author and is an educator.

He is a former CEO at Asian Pacific American Institute for Congressional Studies (APAICS) and a former executive director of the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL).

To become who he is now, and to make it where he is now, besides a turbulent path, Mori became also a political activist and a civil rights advocate for minorities, impacting a lot of people’s lives.

Mori was a city council member, a mayor of Pleasanton, California, and an assemblyman.

“I knew he would be a great asset to the city of Pleasanton because of his values, knowledge and fairness. He was elected to the city council and then went on to be Mayor of Pleasanton,” Mori’s former student, Steve Ferguson, said in an email.

Floyd Mori with JACL fellows at an immigration march in Washington, D.C., 2010, while he was the national executive director/CEO of the Japanese American Citizens League.

“I met Floyd Mori in 1966 when I first attended Chabot College in Hayward, CA. He was my Economics Professor. He had always impressed me as a bright, caring, and dedicated man,” Ferguson said.

Sherrie Hayashi, Mori’s co-worker, said in an email, “Floyd is one of my favorite people. His dedication and commitment to advocating for Asian American communities and issues is aspirational. Floyd always has new ideas. He creates opportunities for young leaders and actively mentors and encourages people to collaborate and be engaged in community work.” They worked together on several projects, including the National JACL Convention in Salt Lake City in 2019. 

“Floyd has had a significant impact in Asian American communities, especially the Japanese American community. He has been a leader at the local, state, and national level, serving in leadership capacities in the nation’s oldest and largest Asian American civil rights organization in the United States (JACL) having been established in 1929,” Hayashi added. 

His works, his devotion, his love for his people, along with Asian American advocacy and organizations, are making the difference.

“The new generations of Asian Americans that have seen the results of bigotry in this country are not going to let this continue,” Mori said.

Floyd Mori, left, with Jake Fitisemanu at the Organization of Chinese Americans awards dinner in Salt Lake City, 2019.

Jake Fitisemanu, current West Valley City councilman, recollected good memories of Mori. 

“We first met in May 2015 when I was appointed by President Barack Obama to serve on the presidential advisory committee. Floyd has been an amazingly supportive and insightful mentor who encouraged me to run for local office when I concluded my service in the White House,” Fitisemanu said in an email interview.

“One thing that stands out to me is that despite his demanding schedule and external commitments to family, church, business, etc. he is frequently seen at community events, demonstrating his devotion to community through his presence, his physical, tangible support,” Fitisemanu wrote.

Floyd Mori is like a hero without a cloak. He is that type of person who has been able to face the difficulties of life with his head held high and who looks to the present and the future with a strong and enthusiastic spirit. 

“He provides strategic guidance and overarching direction but allows staff and volunteers the freedom and power to operationalize and implement using their own creativity and expertise,” Fitisemanu said.

Mori is an example to follow, as he is giving voice to and helping Asian American communities by showing courage in daily life, overcoming the obstacles society, the system, and the government throw their way, besides the improvements made for these minorities in the past years. 

“Floyd has also actively supported Pacific Islander communities and initiatives, with sensitivity and respect toward the controversial notion that combining Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders into a single demographic category is not mutually beneficial, and actually disadvantages Pacific Islanders,” Fitisemanu said. 

Without forgetting the past, Mori envisions a better future. “My optimism is in the fact that more Asians are engaging in the political process as voters and as vote-getters running for office.”

Asian American Student Association: providing community and support

Story by KRISTINE C. WELLER

She remembers the incident because it was so out of the ordinary.

It happened at the start of the coronavirus pandemic. She was going about her day as usual at the pharmacy. She loves working there because she can empower patients with their health and form connections with people. 

Then one day, a white man walked in and told her he didn’t want her to help him.

She couldn’t breathe. 

Lehua Kono said she has faced discrimination and microaggressions her whole life, but never like this. The man was forceful in refusing her help. She had never experienced such overt racism. 

“Just knowing that I can be as helpful or as empathetic as I can and still be told ‘I don’t want you to help me’ hurt a lot,” Kono said. 

Although this was the most extreme experience of racism Kono had ever encountered, she has been impacted by many other instances of discrimination. 

Examples of bigotry similar to this are why organizations like the Asian American Student Association at the University of Utah are important. AASA provides a community for minority students to gain support and talk about their experiences in a safe space. 

Lehuo Kono was the president of AASA during the 2021-22 school year. The previous year she was the external vice president of AASA. Before she was the external vice president, Kono was the director of social justice. Kono said this is no longer a position in AASA because they believe everyone should be social justice-centered. Photo courtesy of Lehua Kono.

Kono is currently the president of AASA and a senior at the U, planning to graduate in May 2022. She joined AASA her first year because she wanted to find community on campus — something she wasn’t able to do earlier in life. 

Growing up in Farmington, Utah, Kono said she was one of the few people of color at her school. As early as first grade, she started to notice that she was treated differently from her white friends. Kids would make fun of her eye shape and would call her “that Chinese girl,” although she is Japanese and Filipino. 

Many members of AASA have endured the same thing, Kono said. Together, members can share their frustrations. 

One place where productive conversations are held is member meetings. Each Friday at 2 p.m., usually on Zoom because of the coronavirus pandemic, AASA members gather. 

Students make origami fish during a weekly member meeting. Photo courtesy of Lehua Kono.

They go through announcements, which could include service or fundraising opportunities, and also discuss different topics each week. The topic may correspond to an Asian holiday, so members will learn its history and traditions, or it could be something like learning how to do origami. However, other times the topic is heavier, such as discussing the model minority myth and microaggressions. 

The model minority myth is based on stereotypes. Kono said Asian Americans are the “standard” for minorities. She said Asians assimilate very well into white American culture, and that many believe every incoming culture should too. 

Part of the reason Asian Americans are labeled a model minority is that they were taught not to speak up, Kono said. However, she explained that her generation is trying to disrupt that practice. 

Compared to the model minority myth, microaggressions might not seem as big of a problem, but the fact that they happen all the time is cause for concern. Christine Yun, the graphic designer for AASA, said she didn’t even realize she was experiencing microaggressions when she was young. It was AASA that helped her understand why.

Christine Yun is the graphic designer for AASA. As such, she creates graphics to promote AASA events. Photo courtesy of Christine Yun.

“I didn’t realize being eight years old that I was facing microaggressions,” Yun said, “and that’s why I felt uncomfortable if I wasn’t with Asian people.”

The discomfort caused by microaggressions is what makes communities like AASA so critical. The organization brings light to what Asian Americans are feeling and experiencing, Yun said. 

Further, Yun explained that because Utah is a more conservative, majority-white state, it doesn’t leave much room for productive conversations. 

Discussions about microaggressions and discrimination Asian Americans face are important for widespread understanding. Predominantly white areas make those discussions difficult to be heard. 

To let Asian American students know they have a place to have meaningful conversations, a place where people listen, AASA hosts a high school conference. At this annual conference, Asian students all around Utah are invited to the University of Utah. The conference showcases unity and lets Asian students know that there is a supportive community for them at the U.

The attendees of the high school conference gather for a group photo. In front you can see Thien Nguyen who was the director of high school conference for AASA. Photo courtesy of Lehua Kono.

The conference usually has a keynote speaker, workshops on social justice, a student panel, traditional singing and dancing performances and more.

Yun said the conference lets incoming students know that AASA is a safe, friendly environment.

“You’re experiencing these things and so are these other people in your community, and you feel a lot less alone,” Yun said.

Similar to Yun, Saya Zeleznik said she didn’t know microaggressions were bad. Zeleznik is the director of service for AASA. She said microaggressions seemed normal because she experienced them all the time. 

Zeleznik said if she got a bad grade, other students would say she was a “bad Asian” or call her “fasian” (fake Asian). She would also get negative comments on the food she ate. 

Microaggressions against Zeleznik did not originate only from other students, though. 

Saya Zeleznik is the director of service for AASA. Her duties include setting up community events for AASA members to gain service hours, volunteer hours, or experience. There are usually events every month. Photo courtesy of Saya Zeleznik.

Zeleznik said teachers loved to “play the ethnicity game.” They would see her and then start naming countries, trying to guess where she is “really” from. As soon as she was sitting at a desk with the roll being called, Zeleznik said she experienced discrimination. 

She has even faced discrimination from a teacher at the U. 

Zeleznik said her Japanese professor is very passive-aggressive and demeaning toward her and another woman in the class who is also half Japanese. Some students in the class think Zeleznik has an easier time because of her Japanese background, but she said that’s not the case.

“It’s hard to explain to people, especially the white kids in the class,” Zeleznik said. “You have an advantage even here.”

Zeleznik explained that it’s frustrating when people don’t take what she says seriously. Those experiences already are tough to deal with and when people don’t understand or believe her, it makes it even harder.

 “It’s hard to be kind of angry all the time,” Zeleznik said. “I would just like to be around people who understand.”

AASA helped her realize that what she experienced was not only not OK, but that others like her had gone through the same thing. AASA is where Zeleznik found people who understand and support her. 

One example showcasing the support and community AASA provides was the Tree Utah event Zeleznik organized. 

The event was in October 2021, by the International Peace Gardens, where a Japanese sculpture had recently been vandalized with spray paint. 

At 8 a.m., 20 AASA members carpooled to West Jordan to plant trees for three hours. Tree Utah provided the plants and equipment, which Zeleznik said included willows, oaks, and shrubs and a “pile of shovels, a bunch of crowbars and gloves.”

The team was ready to start planting after some instruction on how to use the tools and how far to space out the plants — three feet. Everything was going great, although the piercing cold and the pouring rain were not part of the plan. 

“Everyone got really, really muddy,” Zeleznik said. “It was really nice because the holes were easy to dig.”

Despite the rainy weather, Zeleznik said it was great to see everyone together. Even Jada Kali, the external vice president of AASA, wanted to help out. Zeleznik said Kali was sick, so she couldn’t help with the planting. However, Kali still drove out to the site, bundled up in three parkas, and brought the team Banbury Cross Donuts. 

The spirit of collaboration evident at this AASA event is part of its core beliefs. 

AASA fosters collaboration not only within the association but between associations. AASA wishes to support and work with more than just Asian Americans. Zeleznik said the organization cooperates with other groups, including the Pacific Islander Student Association. 

“It’s for all minorities,” she said. AASA is “creating a community where minorities support each other.”

Equalized health care: a new beginning

Story by JUSTIN GALLETLY

Systemic racism is one of the more contentious topics of debate today.

While racism itself is well known, the matter of institutionalized racism entered the common lexicon following the tragic murder of George Floyd at the hands of a police officer.

While the situation brought attention to the idea of police reform, one area without much publicity is its relation to health care.

Blacks generally receive worse treatment than the average white citizen regarding health care services in America. This can be attributed largely due to both implicit and explicit biases from both health care providers and staffers at hospitals and clinics.

In response to the issue reaching public awareness, many organizations are beginning to take a stand against the issue.

One of them is the University of Utah Health, which declared on Jan. 12, 2021, that “systemic racism is a public health crisis.

A way systemic racism impacts Blacks is discrimination based on insurance status, which itself disproportionately impacts non-white citizens.

Other issues include misunderstandings based on false information regarding biological differences in Black people.

Examples include beliefs that Blacks have less sensitive nerve endings, a higher pain tolerance, and even stronger immune systems than whites.

As much as 73% of white medical students believe at least one, if not more, false misconceptions of biological differences regarding Blacks.

The Office for Health Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion is helping U Health addresses the situation at large.

Dr. Jose Rodriguez is the associate vice president of the organization, and one of its leading voices pushing to see serious policy changes against systemic racism.

Rodriguez took his position in August 2018, and his immediate course of action was to get deans staffed in the individual colleges across campus to address equity and inclusion matters.

Rodriguez explained in a Zoom call that at the time, his boss was unable to meet his request, stating resources weren’t available to make it happen.

Following the murder of George Floyd, this all changed. The deans Rodriguez requested were finally filled and accommodated for.

“We understand the anti-racism war is an individual responsibility of every employee. Our diversity office has to serve as the resource and the guidepost for that kind of work,” Rodriguez said. “We’re helping each of these individual units develop plans to move more towards equity. We’re helping them to revise and review their hiring practices to favor equity instead of favoring the white demographic.”

Rodriguez added, “This injustice is not new, but the George Floyd execution put it on people’s consciousness, with people coming out to say, ‘This is not my America.’ When that happened, it brought Blacks and whites together.”

This turning point subsequently led to mandatory implicit bias training for all staff working across the different divisions across campus.

The training really focused in on making staff members address any unknown prejudices deep within them and learn to be more aware of it so it wouldn’t affect their judgement.

Dr. Jose Rodriguez

This way, all patients, regardless of their race, can receive the same treatment without fear of discrimination.

“Society has this deeply entrenched, so it’s not our job to go around blaming each other and feeling bad about it, it’s our job to end it,” Rodriguez said.

The pandemic also played a substantial role in revealing the racist prejudices in our health care system.

Early in the pandemic, it became apparent that Blacks were far more likely to die of the disease than whites, as much as 3.57 times more likely.

These statistics, combined with the ongoing struggles the coronavirus has brought to daily life and the outcry from the aftermath of George Floyd, set in motion a chance to change the U Health’s standards.

“What COVID did is it laid naked the intensely racist nature of our society,” Rodriguez said.

As a result, the U Health just hired a senior diversity leader, Mikel Whittier.

His position only exists thanks to the Office for Health Equity, Diversity and Inclusion insisting on a need for more diversity officers in the delivery line space at the clinic.

“The hiring of my position is the start of action in moving strong language and a strong foundation that has already been set both by the Health Sciences Department and the hospital into action,” Whittier said in a Zoom interview. “What we see across the country, especially over the summer, is there’s a lot of statements made about equity, diversity, and inclusion and how there’s zero tolerance, but we see more of the same across the institution. When there’s time for action, there’s inaction in which you become complicit in racist behavior, so this is a step in that direction.”

As a Black man himself, Whittier says he knows all too well the realities of systemic racism, given he’s been on the receiving end of it.

In 2018, he lost his stepfather to cancer largely due to the inequities in place related to cancer outcomes, with Blacks far more likely to die of the disease than whites tend to.

The consequences Whittier faced due to systemic racism even stretch back to when he was born.

“If you look at infant mortality rates amongst Black women dying of complications of birth, my mom had to stay in the hospital for six additional months after I was born, and that’s a critical time as a newborn to not have your mother there,” Whittier said.

These experiences helped shape his convictions and channel them into working to fix the system.

The different staff members at the Office of Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion are all working together in specific tasks to tackle the problem and put an end to it.

Mauricio Laguan, a manager for recruitment and retention, explains some of the ways the Health division staff have managed to make positive changes to staffing policies.

Mauricio Laguan

“We’re developing an on-boarding training for new employees to understand how the University of Utah will protect them from discrimination and microaggressions from patients and other co-workers,” he said during a phone interview.

Laguan believes one of the harder challenges, especially for a state with as little diversity as Utah, is getting more people of color hired on for medical work.

“Long term, the things that are going to need more time is diversifying the people that work here. Having more Black doctors, having more Latinx doctors, more Polynesian doctors, more Pacific Islander doctors,” Laguan said.

Despite these challenges, work is being done to hopefully make a positive change for not only Blacks but all people of color at the U’s Health services.

For everyone at the Office of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, this challenge is only the beginning.

Indeed, for all involved, the fight to end systemic racism never ends.

Stigma of mental health creates challenges for Black community

Story by HARRISON FAUTH

Racism entails seeing people as the problem, not the practices that have created the circumstance. Facing racism, discrimination, and fear as a result of being Black in America can impact an individual’s mental health. Add the stigma surrounding mental health in the Black community and it becomes more difficult to seek help. 

According to the Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health, Black adults are more likely than white adults to report persistent symptoms of emotional distress, sadness and hopelessness. Those living below the poverty line are twice as likely to have psychological distress due to financial insecurity. 

The Black community also views mental health differently. One study by the National Alliance of Mental Illness reports that 63% of Black people feel it is a personal weakness and feel shame to admit they have a mental health issue. They feel additional discrimination may come from members of their own community. 

“There is absolutely a stigma surrounding mental health in the Black community,” said Kelli Washington, a licensed clinical therapist. In an email interview she said, “This stigma hinders people from access to resources.” She discussed that changing the narrative needs to happen. Black communities need to see that struggling with mental health is not a weakness. 

Washington lives in Los Angeles, but treats patients in Utah and California. She sees a need in both places and values the opportunity to support those who otherwise may not feel supported. “I’m passionate about breaking the stigma surrounding mental health and there are not a ton of Black therapists, especially in Utah, and I think that is partly attributed to the stigma surrounding mental health and lack of diversity in Utah as a whole.”

Melanie Davis, a licensed therapist and owner of Empath Healing and Wellness in Salt Lake City, is working to help change the narrative around mental health. She is also one of the founders of Black Clinicians, which was created to serve the mental health needs not being addressed in the Black community. Its purpose is to help bring Black providers to the Black community. “I see it as critical that people of color have access to therapists of color,” Davis said in an email interview.

The Black Clinicians group addresses the feelings of pain, fear, and trauma felt by those who have been victims of racism. Events on television such as the May 2020 murder of George Floyd  and Black Lives Matter protests have only made better access to mental health therapy more important.  The Black Clinicians group provides a safe space to address mental health issues and they can provide “a mirrored space to clients of color,” Davis said. 

Members of the Black community often reach out to spiritual leaders rather than licensed therapists. Washington and Davis said they believe there is value in partnering with Black church leaders. Trusted church leaders who encourage the use of licensed mental health providers could go a long way in reducing the stigma of mental health. Providing support and decreasing the feeling of isolation can change the narrative around mental health.

Today the need for mental health therapy is on the rise. Being Black and finding a Black therapist who understands your cultural experience is a challenge. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2020 race diversity was 59.7% white and 13.4% Black. In Utah the diversity is far less with 77.8% of the population white, and only 1.5% Black.

Compare the 2020 census on population diversity to the number of licensed Black therapists in America and diversity decreases. According to the American Psychological Association, 83.6% of licensed therapists are white and only 5.3% are Black. These numbers highlight the underrepresentation of professional  Black therapists in America. The limited number of Black therapists creates limited access to a trained professional who shares one’s cultural experience.   

Cost of therapy is another obstacle. The APA reports that only 11.5% of Black adults have health insurance, and mental health therapy is expensive.

Dr. Dio Turner II said in an email interview, “While cost is an issue it is more complicated, cost is a massive issue that is much deeper than therapy. There are too many people who must decide between food, housing, tuition, and their health. People are committing suicide and dying because they can’t afford psychotherapy.” He added, “I’m not sure what the precise solution is but it needs to be addressed immediately.”

Washington, the Los Angeles-based therapist, said she believes mental health is a community problem. Mental health therapy should be accessible through schools, workplaces, and community programs. Lowering cost is not the only solution and insurance companies bear some of the responsibility to make it more accessible. 

Davis, a founder of Black Clinicians, has created an innovative way of addressing the cost obstacle. Davis has offered counseling scholarships in her private practice Empath Healing and Wellness since it was founded. She has several families who have utilized this service. Black community members who know these options are available are more likely to reach out for mental health treatment. 

There are many issues facing the mental health of the Black community with no easy solution. Having conversations, breaking down barriers is happening slowly. The bigger issue may be what is at the core of the problem. As Dr. Dio Turner II said, the biggest health issue facing Black communities is “the insidious way that racism affects mental and physical health.”

Caribbean Nightingale: Utah’s first poetry salon connecting the community through the arts

Story by KENZIE WALDON

Poetry is a language that speaks to all different kinds of souls, connecting those who are in tune with the rhythm. A space to express this creative outlet can expand one’s own view to the variety of cultures that surround them in a community. 

Caribbean Nightingale is one such place. This Provo-based poetry café and boutique creates a space for artistic diversity in Utah. Michaëlle Martial, a Haitian-born poet and the creative force behind Caribbean Nightingale, is breaking barriers by spotlighting the mixture of talent that Utah has to offer. 

“Nightingale is a bird I always liked to read about as a teen, you know, from poetry,” Martial said during a Zoom interview. “Then I found out several years ago that the Nightingale was the only bird that sang both day and night.” 

The nightingale’s significance resonates deeply with Martial, both as a working mother and as a survivor of trauma and domestic violence. She decided to name her new business Caribbean Nightingale, the same moniker Martial uses for performing. “When it was time to register the business, I just thought it was a great idea to keep my stage name as the name of the business just because it has a lot of meaning,” Martial said. 

Michaëlle Marital performing her poetry as Caribbean Nightingale during a Relaxation Through Verse event. Courtesy of the Caribbean Nightingale website. Photographed by Tania Luiza Linson.

The business of Caribbean Nightingale began in 2018 with Relaxation Through Verse. This is the poetry salon’s main event that is held in various locations around Utah offering a safe space for multicultural artists to express themselves freely. “The poetry salon is there to uplift the community as a whole but also to help promote local and emerging artists,” Martial said. “We wanted to have an uplifting experience between the community and the artists.”

These intimate events have been stationed in art galleries to coffee shops and attract developing artists from all kinds of backgrounds. Gianfranco Fernandez-Ruiz, a Dominican Republic-born artist, is one of many to connect with Martial at one of the Relaxation Through Verse poetry readings. 

Gianfranco Fernandez-Ruiz performing his boom bap-inspired poetry at a Relaxation Through Verse event. Courtesy of the Caribbean Nightingale website. Photographed by Nicole Tyana Photography.

“Ever since, we’ve been homies,” Fernandez-Ruiz said in a Zoom interview. “I’m just on the other side of that island, she’s from Haiti and I’m from the Dominican Republic. So that Caribbean business, it goes a long way.”

Fernandez-Ruiz is both a poet and a multi-disciplined creative. “I mean, I graduated in English,” he said. “So, I’m all things in the arts, I do nonfiction, I do fiction. I’m a filmmaker. I’m a screenwriter, director, and I do poetry.” With the help of an ongoing Kickstarter, he is currently in the process of creating a tongue-and-cheek horror comedy movie called, “Saborrrr!”

Another performer at the Relaxation Through Verse is local musician Mel Soul. Soul attended one of Caribbean Nightingale’s events and was so touched by Martial’s poetry that she felt inspired to share her own writing and music.

“Michaëlle has kindly had myself and my drummer band mate Everett Spencer connect through her business as one of her featured musician artists for her live stream events,” Soul said in an email interview.

“Caribbean Nightingale offers poets, artists and businesswomen a safe haven for anyone (especially any person of color) to feel safe and connected through the expression of art in all forms,” Soul said.

Mel Soul (left) and Everett Spencer performing as Mel Soul & The Messenger at a Relaxation Through Verse event. Courtesy of the Caribbean Nightingale website. Photographed by Tania Luiza Linson.

Another addition to Caribbean Nightingale’s poetry salon is the TiGla Boutique, a shop and alternative outlet of highlighting the diverse talents that reside in Utah. It’s also a way to honor Martial’s mother, who was a fashion designer and seamstress. “That’s my way of amplifying Black voices, as I was trying to create some sort of legacy for my mother’s memory who passed less than a year and a half ago,” Martial said.

TiGla Boutique retails merchandise from the artists who perform at Relaxation Through Verse along with Martial’s own poetry books and other authors of African descent. Whether it be fashion, music or literature, TiGla Boutique markets the products created by these local artists, a concept Martial absorbed from her mother who was always trying to help women in her own community. 

“I thought I would do something similar to help me not only feel closer to her, but to also help other artists in my community and in the Black community, specifically,” Martial said. 

The most recent addition to Caribbean Nightingale’s business is the blog titled, “Black Joy Is…” This blog enlightens readers on Martial’s individual perceptions throughout her life. “It’s my personal insight as a woman, a Black woman, immigrant woman, and a poet,” Martial said. “And how travel and healing are intersected when it comes to self-care and self-love.”

While Caribbean Nightingale is connecting Utah’s diversity through art, being a one-of-a-kind business in this state still has its challenges. “Well, it’s been a journey,” Martial said, chuckling.

“There are a lot of obstacles that Black artists get into, you know, that is preventing them from succeeding within a business such as Caribbean Nightingale,” Martial said. “And sometimes Black artists don’t know that there’s so many opportunities available.”

But Caribbean Nightingale’s recent spark of exposure came in 2020 when Martial, along with five other Black-owned businesses in Utah, were selected to receive the Comcast RISE Prize. Caribbean Nightingale is the first of its kind to receive this award from Comcast, which generally supplies a business with the materials and technology it needs in order to succeed. 

Since Caribbean Nightingale is a business operated from home and restructured to hosting events virtually due to COVID-19 restrictions, Comcast needed to think outside of the box for how this award would be beneficial. The prize ultimately paid for a professionally produced commercial that will air from March to June on various Utah networks and be available on the Caribbean Nightingale website.

Martial is currently in the process of releasing a downloadable poetry album as well as organizing Relaxation Through Verse events through spring and summer 2021, both virtual and in person. Martial said donations collected at these events will be distributed among the performers and be given to local shelters for individuals experiencing homelessness. 

Martial’s dream of Caribbean Nightingale is almost 10 years in the making and has cracked open the artistic diversity that bubbles under Utah’s surface. Her advice to any aspirating entrepreneur who is wanting to invest in their passion is to always be mindful of the process. Or in Martial’s words, “You know, life is short, like our slogan with the coffee station, diverse life is short. Take it one sip, one rhyme and one note at a time.”

Black artists bringing #Blackjoy to Utah

Story by NINA TITA

Utah Black Artists Collective is a nonprofit of professional Black artists from across Utah who are building a community of acceptance and love for their art. The Collective includes graphic designers, poets and classical ballerinas.

Jayrod Garrett, co-founder of UBLAC, said the mission is to create Black space, a place where Black people are the majority.

“Things I learned as we went about putting this together, I found out that I was not alone in that idea that I felt isolated as a child. Many of the Black people I’ve spoken to who live here in Utah felt isolated because the state’s 2% black,” Garrett said in a Zoom interview.

Working as a teacher full-time, poet and storyteller, Garrett’s passion is about sharing stories of the lived human experience. His written collection of poems titled, “Being Black in White Space,” captures the essence of what Black artists have gone through. Garrett is aware of the difficulty his audience has relating to the Black experience.

“You can go up in front of an audience and share like one of these really vulnerable poems that talks about what it feels like to be Black in that space and then afterwards you get superficial clapping because they’re like ‘we don’t really know what you just said but this what we’re supposed to do right?’” Garrett said.

Garrett founded UBLAC in July 2020 at the start of the pandemic when organizations were forced to move to virtual platforms. Black artists are using the opportunity to share their work and collaborate on social media, such as Instagram. The current project Garrett is directing is titled #BLACKJOY, a means of breaking barriers.

UBLAC artists gather in front of art that inspires them to continue to showcase their talents and bring #BLACKJOY to the community. Photo courtesy of Jayrod Garrett.

“We started talking about the idea of what Black joy sounds like and what does that look like. Is that praise community the only place you see Black people in joy? And it’s not, but like that’s the only way people seem to think about Black people having joy, is in that faith-based community,” Garrett said.

Changing stereotypes has been a challenge other Black artists are passionate about. Daney Lin, an acrylic painter, recalls being the only Black American in his class growing up in Ogden, Utah.

“Being a Black American in Utah, I feel like we are bound to a certain stigma, let’s break down those barriers, let’s knock them down. Let’s be everything, let’s be bank owners, let’s be grocery owners,” Lin said in a Zoom interview.

As a teenager, Lin found art to be his comfort while he was trying to pursue an athletic career in basketball and track and field. He struggled with his mental health and said he was diagnosed with bipolar, ADHD and depression.

“[Art] helped me relieve my stress, it helped me relieve my depression and kind of just showed it in different ways I couldn’t speak it,” Lin said.

He also struggled with the fear of getting better and losing his artistic ability, he said. Utilizing therapy and medication, Lin discovered his talents were not dependent upon his mental health, but provided him relief from stress.

After submitting his artwork on a whim to UBLAC, Garrett immediately saw all of Lin’s potential. Inspired by colors, peace and love in Japanese and Chinese cultures, Lin’s paintings capture emotion.

“I find myself feeling colors,” Lin said.

One of Lin’s paintings in currently on display at the Hogle Zoo’s World of the Wild Art Show. He cried when he saw it in the gallery. “Growing up I didn’t know any Black artists,” Lin said. Now he is honored to have his art out for all to see and be inspired by.

“I want other Black artists to not be afraid and not feel like they have to live up to a certain stigma. You don’t have to be an athlete, you don’t have to be a rapper, you don’t have to be a singer,” Lin said. “If that’s what you do, hey hats off to you, do it, please do it, strive to be better.”

Schkyra Morning, known as Wynter the Poet, co-founder and executive manager of UBLAC, echoes Lin’s sentiments, acknowledging how racial stereotypes can be detrimental to artistry.  “Being an artist can already be challenging at times because you are asking someone to essentially love who you are and what you are creating. So that can already be a lot. You’re a Black woman and an artist and it kind of makes things a little harder,” Morning said in a Zoom interview. “It makes the road a little harder for you, and that’s OK, I’m not afraid of hard work.”

Morning said that many of the UBLAC artists are fueled in their work by racial injustice that is being seen across the country. Her recent poems are about her personal experience of having police guns drawn on her.

It fuels me. The things that I go through fuel me to write about them to share my experiences with other people who are probably going through, who may not even know how to even express it,” Morning said.

UBLAC artists have started to collaborate on projects regarding racial injustice and rewriting what #BLACKJOY looks like. Lin, Garrett, Morning and other artists created their first YouTube video dedicated to Martin Luther King Jr.’s legacy, which will be posted to their YouTube Channel soon.  

Looking forward, UBLAC is expanding its community impact with youth mentorship programs. The goal is to provide Black youth of all ages with Black role models in the artistic industry to help cultivate talent.

“It’s being able to be in Black space on a regular basis,” Garrett said.

The UBLAC community is excited for the future of the organization. There are plans for in-person galleries, more social media artist collaborations and #BLACKJOY art pieces coming.

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