Channel Kindness
Page 18
Rather than inhabit the shell of the identity that society imposed on him, however, Nick chose to be the person he was meant to be:
I knew at an early age that I was different. That I came from difference. Being poor was one thing; being transgender was a layer deeper.
Rural Texas didn’t create much space for a kid like me, and because I had lost my mother in a tragic car accident at a young age, most people just thought I hadn’t been taught how to be a proper woman. It’ll take me a lifetime to heal from those wounds, but I’ll continue to do that healing as the man I am today.
As adrift and alone as Nick felt, miraculous messages of kindness and encouragement arrived just in time. One of those came in the middle of senior year, when his high school band director informed him that his talent and skill were strong enough to earn him a scholarship to a large state university:
My band director sat with me as I wrote an email requesting information about scholarship auditions. As the day approached, I printed directions at the local library (this was pre–Google Maps, plus I didn’t have a phone) and borrowed my grandma’s car to drive two hours east to the university.
That’s how I found myself, at sixteen, standing in an orchestra audition room. The flute I’d borrowed from my high school was resting in my sweaty palms.
I’d decided to play a four-page solo that I’d memorized for a state competition my freshman year. In front of an intimidating panel of professors, before striking my first note, I took one powerful in-breath. The middle section was a blur of muscle memory as I gave in to melody, allowing myself to fill the room with my love for playing music. Whatever was going to happen next, I didn’t know; I only knew that nothing existed in that space except for creation. It was freedom in so many ways. I let my final note echo in the room before I exited to the waiting area.
As I sat picking at the raised red fabric of the chair, a soft voice interrupted my quiet.
“Are you here alone?” a woman said, peering at me kindly. She had short red hair and a gentle smile.
“Yes.” I nodded.
More questions followed. “How do you think you did?” “Where are you from?” “How old are you?”
Her kindness put me at ease so much, we were soon laughing and carrying on like we were old friends, even family. Then she offered to buy me a meal so we could continue our conversation. We stayed in touch, and when news arrived that I’d been awarded the scholarship, she was among the first to know.
After that, she helped me fill out financial aid paperwork and drove me back and forth to community college so I could take prerequisite courses. When school officially started, I was taken into her home—where I lived with her and her family for close to a year.
Nick acknowledges that what changed his life were those moments and connections with kind and compassionate adults who gave him opportunities, who sat with him and listened, who helped in the small ways they could.
* * *
There were no quick fixes, no one-stop shop for unlearning trauma. But kindness helped, and it still does.
* * *
Nick observed that power every day when he worked at YouthCare, an organization in Seattle that works to end youth homelessness and to ensure that young people are valued for who they are and empowered to achieve their potential. YouthCare offers resources for outreach, basic services, emergency shelter, housing, counseling, education, and employment training—where Nick focused his attention. From interview skills, to resumes, to customer service, to obtaining legal identification or an internship, he helped.
He underscores that there aren’t easy remedies for curing the systemic issues that result in the homelessness of teens and young adults. From his own struggles, he knows all too well that these youth have been underserved by a broken system, that too many of his clients are widely dismissed as lazy or undeserving by uncaring people who never even spoke to them.
That may be one reason why Nick refuses to give up.
Every interaction I have with a client reminds me of how many times I myself had to try again, and still do. Each young person I meet in my work says something that takes me back to mistakes that I made in my own youth, out of pain or ignorance or a feeling of unworthiness. These youth deserve adults who give them opportunities. They deserve to be cared about and to have programming offered to them that helps them heal.
So many people in our society operate under the belief that if troubled or at-risk youth just worked harder, they could change their circumstances. But they need opportunities. They need room to make mistakes and to hear that they can come back and try again. They need teachers, counselors, internships, and job opportunities that understand they’re using the tools that they have and the strategies they’ve developed for survival.
If we can instill hope in their lives, if we can give them relief from shame, if we can work to untangle the lies they’ve believed about themselves, we can help change their lives.
I know that I alone can’t fix a broken system, that I alone won’t be the miracle in any kid’s life. But maybe I can help them send an e-mail that unlocks a positive fresh start. Maybe that e-mail can get them an audition. Maybe the woman they meet there in the waiting room will become like a mom to them and offer her spare bedroom, rent-free. And maybe that audition will lead to a scholarship offer. And they’ll learn that their bravery to keep trying gets them places. That the kindness of others does make a difference. That the negative things they believe about themselves now won’t always be their truth.
Ultimately, Nick Albritton works as tirelessly as he does because he is committed to kindness:
Maybe our youth will see that if they keep showing up, that we, as a society—as caring adults and committed social workers—will keep showing up, too.
It takes an ample amount of courage to unapologetically be who you are. And I’m so proud of you for being unapologetically you, Nick. Not only have you worked through difficult struggles growing up, but you have retained your kindness and loving heart through it all. To stay gentle in a sometimes-cruel world also takes courage. Thank you for using that courage to show up for all the young people you worked with at YouthCare. Everyone needs someone to show up for them, and I’m comforted in knowing that you were that person for so many young people. If you’d like to follow Nick’s example and show up for a young person experiencing homelessness, check out YouthCare or the Ali Forney Center.
47
THE POWER OF INVESTING IN OUR YOUTH
JOSH HOLLIN
When Zoe Terry stepped out onto the stage of a TEDxYouth@Miami conference to tell her story, she was only nine years old.
She had a lot to say about how it felt to be bullied as a little girl for the brown color of her skin and her puffy hair. After suffering a stroke as a toddler, she was bullied at age five for not being very coordinated. Instead of giving in to the bullies, Zoe had the idea to encourage herself and others just like her to know how beautiful she and they really are. Her brainstorm was to create her own enterprise to get brown-skinned dolls into the hands of girls like herself and put smiles on their faces. Thus, Zoe’s Dolls—of which she is the CEO and founder—was born.
Zoe’s mother recalls the challenge that she had always encountered in finding dolls that resembled her daughter in any way. Most of them, she explained, were similar to white dolls in their features and appearance, only looking as if they had brown paint covering them. Zoe’s passion was not only to get dolls into the hands of other girls of color but also to take a powerful stand against bullies.
Her company and her success as a young entrepreneur helped her create a platform for her message. “I wanted to let little brown girls know that their image is beautiful no matter what anyone else says,” Zoe recalls.
In her TEDx Talk and subsequent media interviews, there’s a statement she asks audiences to repeat. “Say ‘I’m beautiful!’” Zoe directs the girls listening to her.
“I’m beautiful!” they respond in a triumphant ch
orus, almost like a call-and-response in church.
Having her own doll that looks like her is proof, Zoe smiles. “I am beautiful. Being different is not bad. My school helped me know that. My mom helped me know that. So that is when I got my idea to turn my bad situation into a good situation. I just wanted to make a difference.”
Her policy is for every doll sold, she gives a doll to a girl in need. Between 2016 and 2020, Zoe’s Dolls gave away twenty thousand dolls across the United States, Haiti, Cuba, and countries across Africa.
Over Christmases past, Zoe has partnered with celebrities like Serena Williams and sponsors who have enabled her to deliver Zoe’s Dolls to girls in various South Florida neighborhoods near where she is growing up. Their reactions are priceless.
Zoe was delighted, recalling, “One girl I gave a doll to, she named her Ms. Cocoa. She had darker skin, and the doll had darker skin like her, so it really, really looked like her, and she was so excited. I remember she gave me the biggest hug, and she was just so happy that she finally got a doll in her image.”
There are messages in the boxes that Zoe’s Dolls come in. In the city of Miami Gardens, Florida, one recipient joyfully read her note aloud. “It says, ‘I’m beautiful and I’m loved.’” A different recipient kept staring at her own doll. Finally, she explained, “I feel like it’s me in a box.”
* * *
When Zoe was honored with the 2017 Nickelodeon HALO Award—which stands for “helping and leading others”—Nick Cannon commended her. “You’re showing girls everywhere that the sky’s the limit,” he said, “not only through your work with Zoe’s Dolls but [by] becoming the youngest HALO honoree ever.”
Zoe has even received grants to hold trainings that help motivate other “girlpreneurs” pursuing their paths as change-makers.
* * *
Zoe has powerful and kind words of advice. “Believe in yourself,” she tells others of all ages, even when no one else does. “Believe in yourself and just don’t give up. When you see a problem, fix it. Just fix it, and if you keep at it, you will have a business.”
The advice that Zoe’s mom has added to that is also important. All along, she insisted that Zoe call all the shots, and she asserts that if parents want to see their kids flourish, the kindest, most important thing they can do is just to listen, be supportive when asked, and get out of the way.
It’s true that by letting kids find their own wings, they may run the risk of falling. Or they may just fly.
This story is proof that there is no age requirement to make a difference in the world. It is so important that children see themselves in the toys that they play with, and Zoe’s Dolls provides that representation for so many young girls across the world. Josh’s story also reminds us how beautiful we all really are; so why not start embracing your beauty today? Josh, you are beautiful. And reader, you are, too. Because baby, you were born this way! I challenge you to tell three people they’re beautiful, and while you’re at it, check out Zoe’s Dolls to support Zoe in her mission to remind brown girls that their skin is beautiful, too.
48
FROM CHAOS TO CARING
ASHLEY LOPEZ
Anyone meeting human dynamo Ruby Guillen for the first time might suspect the truth—that she is a modern-day superhero. Few are able to guess that this same powerhouse, whose work includes saving children from violence and rescuing them from the worst imaginable child abuse, was once a foster child herself.
“I saw things, and I had experiences that didn’t make me feel good,” she says. “Having an understanding of that, I wanted to figure out how to make the system less scary for kids.”
Not surprisingly, that led to her calling as a social worker for her community. Armed with only a badge, a clipboard, and a compassionate heart, part of her job entails driving all over Southern California, rescuing children from dangerous situations.
Ruby makes it known that even with growing public awareness of the abuse, neglect, and mistreatment of babies and children, there are far too many who desperately need to be saved. The national organization Childhelp reports that more than four children die daily from abuse in the United States. According to the American Society for the Positive Care of Children, the most vulnerable children are age four or younger, as they are at higher risk of dying.
* * *
Refusing to give up on even one child, Ruby’s mission is to change those dire statistics.
* * *
And here’s where her superhero reputation comes in. It turns out that when she is not physically out on the front lines protecting children, Ruby is busy creating life-saving technology that has changed the landscape of reporting on child abuse in her field.
In 2016, Ruby founded Humanistic Technologies, an enterprise focused on improving the efficiency of social workers and others in the helping fields through the use of applications and other tech tools. A primary focus of the apps aims to reduce child fatalities and help protect children from harm.
Her multiple perspectives as a former foster kid and fearless social worker, with her unique “hacktivist approach,” have set her apart and made her a formidable foe of those who commit or tolerate acts of violence against children.
Ruby and her team at Humanistic Technologies have developed an app that has been pivotal in the protection of children and youth. With existing practices, when a first responder helps an abused child, the responder must file a report for their specific department. Sometimes, however, the report is not readily accessible to other departments. The app allows for these forms to be filled out online and additionally ensures that no child abuse reporting data gets lost between city departments. Keeping this data available across all city departments doubly protects children from further harm.
Ruby recognizes that no app or piece of technology can do the work that a feeling, concerned human being can. She acknowledges, “People think technology is cold.” In the hands of a human being who cares, however, all that changes. She goes on. “You get a sentiment of coldness and try to create warmness out of it.”
Without a doubt, kindness, compassion, and empathy are at the heart of the work of Humanistic Technologies. Take, for example, the landmark event that took place in December of 2017, when Humanistic Technologies partnered with municipalities to organize a “heartfelt hackathon” in downtown Los Angeles.
Several programmers and social workers spent days collaborating on the creation of new technology aimed not only at intervention but also at the prevention of child abuse. The Child Abuse Prevention Hackathon was the first of its kind. Unlike most hackathons that develop technology to be used in industry for investment or for profit, this event did not have cash prizes. All participants selflessly devoted their time for the greater good.
Ashley’s story is proof that we can use what we learn in the face of adversity to help those in similar situations. I am grateful for compassionate people like Ruby and Ashley (a constant kindness ambassador in all that she does), who use their skills to help children. If you or someone you know is experiencing child abuse, please contact the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline for 24-7 help.
Ruby says proudly, “People were working together and willing to engage in dialogue and challenge each other in collaboration for the sake of children. You have to have kindness in order to maximize the value of creating technology.”
Ruby’s story of being a foster kid who grew up to become a superhero on behalf of all children in need of protection is a lesson to us all. We can all learn to be tough and compassionate, tech savvy and brave. There can be no greater investment than that which we make in the future of the well-being and safety of our youngest, most vulnerable citizens.
We can all make a difference with kindness in mind—just like Ruby Guillen.
49
CREATING A COMMUNITY THROUGH MUSIC
MALLORY KOLODZIEJ
In Antioch, Illinois, about an hour north of Chicago, a music store that once went by the name of Musician Makers opened
its doors in 2013 and was immediately embraced by the community. Chester, the owner, made sure that the atmosphere was as welcoming as a jam session in his own living room. To all who patronized the store or even stopped by, it always felt like home.
Then, in 2015, out of the blue, Chester passed away, leaving the store to his fiancée, Tricia—who soon reopened it under the name Mad Plaid Music. To help her heal from the loss, she resolved to create a community of kindness through music.
When I first met Tricia, I had meandered into her storefront on a quest to replace the strings on my guitar. What started as an unanticipated bout of friendly conversation turned into a friendship met with the same qualities she employs to run her business: fierce passion, extraordinary grace, and unconditional kindness.
We got to talking about Chester’s sudden passing, and I asked what it was that made her want to keep the store open. She explained, “The students are why I keep the music store open. Our lesson program was substantial, and the thought of displacing those students would have been heartbreaking.”
When Tricia first took over the store in July 2016, there were about 120 students. In just six months, the number grew to nearly 170 students. This growth spurt had a lot to do with Tricia’s dedication to creating a program that enriches and empowers students musically and as individuals.
There are fourteen music and voice instructors, all warm-hearted and highly trained. The program consists of weekly private music instruction so a student can grow at their own pace. As music teachers, many of us (including me) act not only as instructors but as active listeners for our students. Or, I should add, as a teacher in this special place, I feel a responsibility to be a positive influence on my students’ musical journeys, as well as a voice of some wisdom in their life’s pursuits. Teaching is wonderful but, as I learned,