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Regular-article-logo Tuesday, 05 November 2024

Covid-19 is the new civil rights frontier

The Covid-19 racial disparity in infections and deaths is viewed as the latest chapter of historical injustices, generational poverty and a flawed health care system

Audra D.S. Burch/New York Times News Service Published 20.04.20, 11:56 AM
Protesters, practicing social-distancing, hold signs to demanding cancel rent and mortgagesa at the US Bank Plaza in Minneapolis, on Wednesday, April 8, 2020.

Protesters, practicing social-distancing, hold signs to demanding cancel rent and mortgagesa at the US Bank Plaza in Minneapolis, on Wednesday, April 8, 2020. (Jenn Ackerman/The New York Times)

Rallies and marches and other traditional forms of protest are out, given the social distancing restrictions now in place from coast to coast, but activists are organizing campaigns nonetheless aimed at what is emerging as the latest front in the country’s civil rights struggle: the disproportionate impact of the coronavirus on communities of color.

The Covid-19 racial disparity in infections and deaths is viewed as the latest chapter of historical injustices, generational poverty and a flawed health care system. The epidemic has hit African Americans and Hispanics especially hard, including in New York, where the virus is twice as deadly for those populations.

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So in the midst of a national quarantine, civil rights activists are organizing broad, loosely stitched campaigns at home from their laptops and cellphones, creating online platforms and starting petitions to help shape relief and recovery plans. Although digital tools are part of most initiatives, the pandemic is prompting a new kind of creativity to rally support without the power and visceral energy of crowds.

Collectively, the goal is targeted legislation, financial investments and government and corporate accountability. The Rev. Jesse Jackson, the longtime civil rights leader, is calling for the creation of a new Kerner Commission to document the “racism and discrimination built into public policies” that make the pandemic measurably worse for some African Americans.

“It’s really hard to overstate the critical moment we are in as a people, given how this virus has ripped through our community,” said Rashad Robinson, president of Color of Change, the nation’s largest online racial justice organization with 1.7 million members. “We know the pain will not be shared equally.”

Robinson’s organization and others, such as the National Urban League and the NAACP, have hosted telephone and virtual town halls, drafted state and federal policy recommendations and sent letters to legislators.

Smaller local groups, often reliant on street mobilizing, are working around the social distancing restrictions to rally support.

In Los Angeles, housing activists staged a “car caravan” protest outside Mayor Eric Garcetti’s house to push for stronger tenant protections. In Minneapolis, cars circled a bank and honked horns, calling for the cancellation of rent and mortgage payments. And tenant and tenant organizers in Missouri plan to take over a stretch of highway Monday to demand rent cancellation.

“We are faced with trying to navigate this new level of hurt without some of our traditional methods of flooding the streets,” said Tara Raghuveer, director of KC Tenants.

Robert Dawkins, a social justice activist, took one look at the numbers in Charlotte, North Carolina — black residents make up about 22% of the state’s population but account for 39% of its positive cases — and knew the coronavirus would land hard in African American communities. Ordinarily, he would knock on doors and go to churches to assess the damage and brainstorm solutions, but like other activists, he was forced to mobilize from home.

“We need to get to our people to get an idea of what the long-term repercussions are for an already fragile community,” said Dawkins, political director of Action NC. “We are used to walking the streets and going to Wednesday Bible study and meeting people where they are. So now we are quickly sending emails and calling and texting to check on people.”

Movements are made up of big policy ideas and small acts. Across the country, individuals are making direct pleas for the common cause of slowing the outbreak’s spread. In Chicago, Mayor Lori Lightfoot took matters into her own hands, driving around the city and breaking up crowds last week. The coroner in Albany, Georgia, has visited the homes of people who died of Covid-19, making sure the surviving relatives are wearing masks and social distancing.

“I am trying to sound the alarm because I see the devastation in the black community,” Michael Fowler, the coroner of Dougherty County, said hours after the Georgia county’s 91st Covid-19 death. “I am trying to do my part. Preachers, a judge, a church choir member, all walks of life are dying. My job is to pronounce death, but I believe in trying to save lives.”

The disparity is the result of intersecting threats. African Americans disproportionately belong to the part of the “essential” workforce without insurance, and working from home is often not an option. That means more exposure to the virus, both in transit and in the workplace, and no way to access affordable health care. For many, the line from day-to-day living to Covid-19 patient is alarmingly short.

Weeks ago, public health departments began releasing the number of Covid-19 cases by race. Although the numbers were limited, it was enough to signal a brewing crisis within black communities. First, Milwaukee. Then Chicago and Detroit.

Not far behind were smaller cities, such as Charlotte and Albany, where two funerals attended by members of three black churches sparked a cluster of about 500 cases and 29 deaths, staggering numbers in a city with a population of about 75,000.

There is more. Data from the farthest reaches of the Deep South shows large disparities in death rates as well. Alabama, Mississippi and Georgia have all reported that African Americans are dying at much higher rates than white people.

While some governors established task forces to study the disparities — and President Donald Trump promised more race-based data — civil rights and social justice organizations were working to combat rampant misinformation and make policy recommendations.

The numbers — or lack of numbers — became one of the first battles. Across the country, activists demanded wider access to testing and better case data stratified by race.

Activists view the preliminary statistics as the foundation of a human rights disaster, in many ways akin to Hurricane Katrina. The one-two punch of a ferocious storm and an unequal recovery hollowed out black neighborhoods in New Orleans.

The groups are rolling out a list of demands and protections that are both unique to the pandemic and familiar social justice calls. They include some guarantee of housing stability — a moratorium on rent, mortgage payments, evictions and utility disconnections. They also want the release of nonviolent older and medically high-risk people from jails and prisons, and expansions of Medicaid benefits and stronger employee protections, such as paid sick leave. Longer term, groups are recommending ways to protect voter rights in the upcoming presidential election.

But the groups’ biggest effort is health care reform that addresses access, cost and medical bias. Jackson’s Rainbow PUSH Coalition and the National Medical Association released a manifesto Wednesday proposing that high-risk groups, including African Americans, be prioritized for Covid-19 testing.

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