Since Russia invaded Ukraine in February, 2022, over 8 million people, or 18% of the population, have fled the country. Approximately 282,000 have ended up in the US. As Beautiful Day welcomes Ukrainians into our adult and youth programs, it's important for all of us to stay informed about what's happening in their home country. This article lays out some of the stark facts. We all need to understand as much as we can in order to best support our new Ukrainian neighbors.
According to interviews conducted by NPR, CBS News and the Washington Post, a sense of unreality prevails in Ukraine right now as people work hard to maintain their normal lives. In most places the buses are running, people are going to work, and stores and restaurants are open. You can see children playing in parks and moms shopping at local markets. But everyone is aware that business as usual could cost them their lives. The Russians have been dropping missiles and armed drones on civilian centers, hitting targets like a market in Kherson last Christmas Eve that killed ten people, or a popular pizza parlor in Kramatorsk a few weeks ago that killed 11 and wounded 56. Since the invasion began 18 months ago, over 16,000 civilians have been wounded and over 9, 000 killed. And more than 100,000 war crimes have been registered in the Ukraine, including indiscriminate bombings, the torture of civilians, rape of women and children and mass executions. Putin has now been indicted as a war criminal. Yet a trial is unlikely as it will require the actual arrest of Putin and other Russian leaders.
A woman walks through the Oleksiivska station in Kharkiv where thousands took shelter. (Jason Beaubien/NPR)
The war’s effect on children has been considerable. Over 1,500 have been killed or injured. The Ukrainian government estimates that 19,500 have been kidnapped and taken to Russia after Putin signed a decree that made it easier for Russians to “adopt” Ukrainian children. The Russian government is deliberately making it difficult to even identify them. For those who remain, their homes, schools and neighborhoods have been bombed and many have spent extensive time in shelters. When the Russians attacked Kharkiv, thousands of families took refuge in the city's extensive subway system. They remained there for months with some refusing to leave even after the crisis passed. Missile strikes have destroyed power grids, knocking out electricity and water. One mother says that she regularly hears her children asking for electricity in their nightly prayers.
A child copies Ukrainian soldiers standing at attention. (Vadim Ghirda: AP)
As with all protracted wars, Ukraine is experiencing a mental health crisis. The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that one quarter of Ukrainians are dealing with major psychological issues related to trauma. This is undoubtedly an underestimate since an overall sense of anxiety and depression, rather than major mental illness, is very common. Ukrainian soldiers are especially vulnerable since most were not trained for combat and must serve for long periods of time. To date, more than 17,000 Ukrainian soldiers have been killed, each one with a story, each one with family members and friends who mourn them. Our trainees are also among those who mourn the loss of family and the growing devastation of their country.
These are hard facts to report and may be hard for some to read. But it's important to acknowledge our trainees' lived experiences and to bear witness to what their family members and friends are still facing. Beautiful Day is committed to hope and possibility, which we see every day in the faces of our trainees who are intent on rebuilding their lives. Yet we know that healing can best take place in the presence of others who are willing to see and try to understand, hard as that might be. Thank you for reading this far.
]]>The crisis in Afghanistan last August mobilized the US public in ways not seen in decades. The outpouring of support was overwhelming as our newsfeeds regaled us daily with stories of families being airlifted out of Kabul and arriving at US military bases looking dazed, but safe. As overtaxed resettlement agencies struggled to meet the needs of these new arrivals, private citizens and community groups stepped up to help with extraordinary offers of housing, jobs and friendship. Within 6 months, some 76,000 Afghans had been resettled in cities and towns across the country, 350 of them in Rhode Island.
Now, a year later, the headlines are largely gone. Public attention has waned, partly eclipsed by the crisis in Ukraine and partly the result of seeing that efforts to support Afghans may involve commitments that last years, rather than months. The simple reality is that it takes a long time to rebuild a life, and unfortunately, this is particularly true for many resettled Afghans. Imagine being evacuated from your home, leaving friends and family members behind in a war-torn land, and then arriving in a country where you don't speak the language and the cultural, religious and gender norms are all shockingly unfamiliar. The success of Afghans in the US will depend on longterm investments in employment, healthcare, housing, education etc. The adjustment could take a long time.
Adding to the stress is the fact that most Afghans do not know whether they will be able to remain in the US, since they were admitted to the country under a program known as Humanitarian Parole, which grants recipients only two years of temporary status. Afghans are not legally classified as refugees and currently have no path to citizenship or any sense of permanency. Approximately 40 percent of them will be eligible for special immigrant visas (SIVs), but the rest will need to apply for asylum, which is expensive, requires legal assistance, and can take years to be approved. Most estimates indicate that at least 90 percent of current Afghan asylum applications are being denied and the backlog is extensive. In contrast, people from Ukraine are being admitted as refugees, a status that allows them to receive federal assistance, a direct path to citizenship, and a more secure permanent status.
We at Beautiful Day are deeply concerned by the uncertain legal status of resettled Afghans and by the waning public attention that threatens to leave them without the support services they need. Polls indicate that most Americans favor a pathway to permanent status for Afghans, but hate crimes based on xenophobia and islamophobia are on the rise and often go unreported. And as social services and rent subsidies expire, Afghan families are experiencing increasing financial hardships, even homelessness. This is the time for more investment of resources and attention, not less!
Since the first Afghans arrived in Rhode Island last October, we at Beautiful Day have been seeking ways to build relationships and trust. We are proceeding slowly, letting the families take the lead in showing us how we can best meet their needs. We have accepted several Afghan trainees, but they have all left early after finding permanent employment, indicating that their job training needs may be more short-term. We now plan to offer a shorter training program that might better serve their needs.
Other efforts at outreach have involved including Beautiful Day granola bars and hummus in food baskets delivered by the local food bank along with messages of welcome and information about our programs translated into Pashto and Dari. We have also solicited donations of wool rugs from our newsletter subscribers (i.e. YOU!) when we learned at a focus group of Afghan women that much of family life at home takes place on such rugs. We delivered the rugs and were invariably invited to tea, giving us even more opportunities to develop personal connections.
We have also invited families to visit our facility to see what we do. During these visits, we learned that many Afghan women and girls are feeling isolated at home. We have begun to reach out to them through our Refugee Youth Program and through a partnership with the Refugee Dream Center, a local refugee service organization that runs a support group for Afghan women. This group will soon be coming to Beautiful Day to cook a meal in our kitchen and to share it with American women who are eager to make new friends. Activities like these will go far in promoting the kinds of intercultural friendships that are so critical to helping newcomers feel welcome.
There is still much to be done. A piece of bipartisan legislation known as the Afghan Adjustment Act has recently been reintroduced in Congress, which would allow resettled Afghans to apply for permanent residency after living in the US for a year. This would lift them out of their current legal limbo. We encourage you to call your congressional representatives and urge them to vote yes to the Afghan Adjustment Act.
The headlines may be gone, but now is an especially important time to get involved. We are seeking volunteers to work with resettled Afghans in several capacities:
1) Mentor an Afghan youth or adult.
2) Join our Afghan women's cooking group and make friends with an Afghan woman.
3) We can always use more wool rugs and help delivering them. You could experience Afghan hospitality for yourself and enjoy a cup of tea!
4) There may be opportunities to deliver food and care packages to Afghan families. Let us know if this would interest you.
Please contact Liza Sutton, our Volunteer Coordinator, if interested.
]]>It’s a privilege to be sitting here with Patricia Stevens, one of Beautiful Day’s Youth Program Mentors. Patricia has been volunteering for us for a short time, but already has had a tremendous impact on the youth whom she is mentoring. Patricia has been a tax preparer for 22 years and is living with her husband on the West Side of Providence.
She graciously sat with me while I asked her a few questions:
Liza: You are new to RI! What brought you here?
Patricia: My husband came out of retirement (in Cape Cod) and got a job in Woonsocket, and we decided to live in Providence...Providence seems like a good city to try out; it’s convenient, has good restaurants, is affordable, has great amenities, has a diverse community.
Liza: How did you find Beautiful Day?
Patricia: Serendipity. I was shopping at Urban Greens…I bought some granola bars. I told everyone I knew about them! I received an email that you were looking for volunteers. So that’s how it happened. Sheer luck and serendipity!
Liza: What was it about the mentor program that attracted you?
Patricia: I had the time, and…I wanted to work with teenagers. I am working with four youth.
We went kayaking, went out to dinner. I’ve taken them for job interviews. They are dying to work, very ambitious. One of the kid’s first paycheck was for $300 and he gave it to his parents. They are so appreciative of what BD has offered them.
Liza: Were you at all apprehensive before you met with your group?
Patricia: No, not at all. It’s been so easy. The staff is very helpful, not hammering me over the head about not doing enough. It’s a perfect amount of support. I feel like I can reach out if I need help. There is lots of interaction and support.
Liza: What do you think you can offer to the youth?
Patricia: I’m a grandmother figure! If they need a ride, want some fun, friendly advice, they look at me like I’m their grandmother. I had no idea what it was going to be like. I’m good with people, but I don’t spend much time with teenagers...They are just such a pleasure. They don’t have a lot and are so appreciative.
Liza: Any special stories to share?
Patricia: I was going with Ajax on a walk. I brought my dog in the car; Ajax was nervous to meet my dog. But the dog started wagging her tail. Ajax warmed up to her, and wanted a photo of himself with her. It was such a nice moment when he warmed up to her right away.
Liza: Will you be a mentor again, for another group of kids?
Patricia: Definitely!
]]>One of our uncomfortable realities this summer is that we have to raise our prices.
I've been reluctant to do this! I've felt a bit grumpy about the way everything at my grocery store seemed to go up a dollar, while some of the package sizes shrank. (Do people now drink 10 or 11.5 ounces of seltzer rather than 12? And doesn't the downsize require all new super-expensive packing equipment?) But deeper down I think the increases have been a nagging reminder that we too have no choice but to adjust our prices.
Pricing is complicated for a non-profit. But here are some of the facts and our calculus:
Our ingredients have gone up by at least 13% in the last year. Some items like organic sunflower seeds jumped 44%! And our premium Yirgacheffe Ethiopian coffee is up about 40% since we introduced it. Shipping too keeps going up. And given the war in Ukraine, gas hikes, and ongoing supply chain problems, I doubt price increases are done with us yet. While we did raise some prices last year, we didn't touch wholesale, bulk, distributors, or subscribers.
We also recently raised wages and stipends for our staff and trainees. We actually raised wages last December--a long-anticipated celebratory increase. We knew our supporters would appreciate how this would improve the lives of staff and trainees. But then this year's inflation wiped out those gains. So we raised wages again a bit last month.
I decided with our team that we weren't going to play the shrinkflation game (of decreasing item sizes while raising prices) to try and hide price increases. We also decided we would stick with our recipes and the high proportion of expensive nuts and seeds rather than try to save money by substituting lower quality items.
Beyond this we have all our normal tensions about pricing as a non-profit. On the one hand, our goals are all about impact rather than profit. We value an accessible price point, especially in stores. That way a stranger who picks it up might learn something about refugees. On the other hand, our fans care that part of purchase price is going directly to refugee training and this becomes part of the joy of the purchase. It's always important to us that both the price and the quality draw attention to the value of refugees.
So what to do?
In the end we're opting for about a 10% price increase. This will be a bit higher on items we did not increase last year such as wholesale and subscriptions. We decided not to jump the gun and raise prices in advance of further increases. If ingredients keep going up we'll just do it again later. Since we're launching both a refreshed website and new packaging quite soon, we'll coordinate these increases with the launch.
You'll be hearing lots more about our new packaging in the next month. We're thrilled about it. But we also want you to know that, while it does cost a bit more than our former packaging, it actually saves money with labor and will allow us to shift more trainee time towards training and tutoring.
So that's our thinking. We really do want everyone to know how much we appreciate our customers. We feel honored to be doing this work in this way and deeply appreciate everyone for sticking with us, our products, and our staff and trainees during this inflationary period.
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After being scattered across the city, we recently moved to a brand new space where all our operations are under one roof. We love it. For the very first time, we are literally “home for the holidays.” But to be honest, we don’t feel completely at home there yet. Everything is still so new.
Maybe this is appropriate since we work with refugees who have left behind everything that’s familiar. They experience profound disruption and isolation as they struggle to adjust to a new culture with strange traditions like pine trees in the living room and a fat man in a red suit. Everyone longs for a place that’s uniquely theirs, where they know they belong. And this is especially true this time of year, which is steeped in rituals and traditions that give us joy and keep us grounded. If we at Beautiful Day are finding it challenging to adjust, imagine what it’s like for refugees. What does it mean for them to be “home for the holidays?”
I asked this question of Maliss, our youth program coordinator, who escaped war-torn Cambodia as a teenager. “It doesn’t matter where you are,” she said. “The way you create home is by practicing the rituals that connect you to yourself.” She told me how she and her children decorate the tree “American style.” Yet they also burn incense and clean the house from top to bottom just as they would during the three-day Cambodian New Year’s celebration. They clean to prepare a space for Tevi, the angel, to come and bless their home.
For Maliss, home is forged in rituals that take place at the crossroads where two cultures meet. And as she cleans her house to welcome the angel, she is adding a new layer of hospitality onto American traditions. This couldn’t be more needed. Hostility toward refugees is high. Afghan evacuees wait on military bases. Nicaraguan asylum seekers wait at the Mexican border. As we at Beautiful Day settle into our new space, we remain more committed than ever to growing our job training programs and using our products to promote kindness and connection between refugees and the general public. Like Maliss, we are working to turn our new home into a place that welcomes angels.
Your tax-deductible donation is an investment in refugees like Maliss who are creating new homes here in the US and in the coming together of cultures and traditions that connect us to ourselves. Please donate, or join our monthly subscription program on our website.
Thank you. And may your home be a place that also welcomes angels this holiday season.
]]>Last spring, Beautiful Day received a grant from the CDC Foundation to put stickers encouraging COVID-19 vaccination onto granola bars and to distribute them to refugee communities. We partnered with 14 organizations that were providing emergency services to refugees and asked them to hand the bars out to their clients. And we invited our supporters to participate by purchasing the bars directly for distribution. Then a generous family foundation made a significant donation as well, so we produced even more of our catchy "bandaid bars."
We were motivated by concerns about the special challenges that the pandemic has posed to refugee communities. Refugees often struggle to gain access to good health information. It takes courage to trust public health authorities, given what so many have experienced at the hands of brutal governments. At the same time Covid has deeply impacted these communities. Many refugees work in essential jobs that increase their risk of exposure. Others lost jobs and have experienced food and housing insecurity. We saw how these issues were impacting our refugee staff, trainees, and youth. But because we've built a lot of trust within these communities, we felt that now was the time to contribute to community efforts to help keep refugees safe.
The program has now ended and we were able to distribute 12,000 bars to organizations serving refugees in Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Maryland (Wow!). Through this important group effort, we were able to spread the word to thousands of people who may have needed just a little nudge to decide to get vaccinated. Our thanks go out to all who participated, including our community partners, our friends and supporters, and the generous family foundation.
Here's what one community partner said about the program: "Thank you for the granola bars. People love them and they are really healthy. The only other healthy thing that people donate is onions."
We certainly appreciate the acknowledgment, although we've never been compared with onions before!
Here's another comment from an organization that offers English classes to refugees: "Two students said that the granola bar message reminded them about getting vaccinated and they were going to make their appointments."
Now that's what we love to hear!
Right now, people are being inundated with messages about the vaccine and attitudes have hardened. Sometimes, a fun little nudge works better than a hard shove. And it doesn't hurt when the message comes in the form of a delicious, wholesome snack from an organization people know and trust. We are grateful for your help.
Teacher Joe Baer talks with 8th grade students enrolled in Wheeler School's
Cityside Program (Pre-Covid photo)
That's right, now we're in middle school - at the Wheeler School in Providence to be exact! We've been working all semester with teacher Joe Baer, Director of the Cityside Program, a special year-long class at Wheeler that all 8th graders take part in, where students collaborate with local nonprofits and other stakeholders to produce projects designed to promote positive change in Rhode Island. Working off-campus, students form groups of 3 or 4 and decide together on an area of interest to focus on. The groups then reach out to organizations or individuals working in that area who can help them learn more and develop projects that meet a real need. This semester, two groups decided to focus on supporting local refugees and after learning about Beautiful Day through their research, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to contact us.
Both groups interviewed Rebecca, asking thoughtful questions about Beautiful Day's adult and youth job training programs and the trainees we serve. Then both groups produced podcasts where they discuss the crisis of human displacement and how Beautiful Day is addressing the problem. They plan to post their podcasts to their own social networks and on Wheeler School's social media. We'll be posting them on ours as well.
Students at Wheeler's Cityside Program prepare to record their podcast
about Beautiful Day
Before this project, none of the students knew much about refugees or about the organizations in Rhode Island dedicated to helping them succeed. Elena wrote, "When working with Beautiful Day, I learned very valuable and eye-opening information about refugees. It was fantastic to see that there are so many people who care about the refugee community."
And students came away from the project pleased that their work can have a real impact. Jacob wrote, "It is so cool that we get to show our podcasts to people because it will contribute to the effort of helping refugees."
These types of responses are just what Cityside Director Joe Baer wants to see. He says, "Our collaboration with Beautiful Day exemplifies civic action at its best, giving our kids meaningful agency and impactful voice." We're happy that Beautiful Day can help promote greater awareness of refugees in young people and foster students' growing desire to make a difference in their communities.
To hear the groups' podcasts (they're short!) click below:
Rebecca: When you were growing up in the DRCongo, what made you decide that you wanted to work with girls and women?
Aline: When I was little, my mother was always feeling depressed because she had 9 girls and no boys. This was the way it was in the Congo. Fathers wanted sons and they blamed their wives if they had girls. I told her, "I can do anything a boy can do. Send me to school. I will show you. Don't be sad. Education will give me capabilities. I will get married and if he's a good man, then he will be your son."
Second, my father was a government official in Bukavu [a city in eastern DRCongo on the Rwandan border]. He wasn't a high official, but we were able to get by. My parents had grown up in a village two hours away from Bukavu and we often went there, going back and forth getting food, farming, and visiting grandparents and extended family. And I saw many things in the village. I saw that girls and women were treated differently than the boys and I wanted to do something about it.
Bukavu in eastern DRCongo, on the shores of Lake Kivu, where Aline was born
Rebecca: How were girls and women treated differently?
Aline: Girls didn't get to go to school. Or they dropped out early and no one cared. And girls without an education didn't have a chance at a good life. They would get married at 15 and have ten children, one every year. They didn't know about contraception, or else they wouldn't use it because they believed the rumor that it would make them sterile. They would work on their farms and take care of children and at 40 they were already old. And the government supported this. But I knew that if girls could go to school, they would not have any boundaries. I saw this in the village and decided I would not be like them. I would be educated. And I told my mother and father and they said yes.
My father was proud because he sent me to school and helped me with a scholarship. And they sent me to a mixed school with boys and girls. That strengthened me. It helped me to get to know boys. I studied math, french, geography just like them, and learned that I'm as good as a boy. And as I grew older, I saw even more how women and girls in society were put down, even in the cities. I saw all these lawyers, politicians, medical providers - everybody was men. Men everywhere! Pastors, priests, teachers, all men! I started to see that this was a bigger problem than I thought. I knew it was going to be a big fight.
Rebecca: What did you study in college?
Aline: I studied rural development. It's hard for women everywhere in the Congo, both in cities like Bukavu and in the villages. But I knew that girls and women living in the villages were the most vulnerable and I wanted to learn techniques to help them especially.
The village of Mwenga, within driving distance of Bukavu, DRCongo
Rebecca: What kinds of techniques did you learn? What did you do?
Aline: In college, I joined a group of ten friends because you need a team. We signed a contract with Caritas Internationalis, a Catholic relief organization, and they gave us a big truck, big as this house, filled with food - beans, rice, sugar, oil, everything. Wow! And even though we didn't have any legal papers, we started going into the villages, from family to family, and giving away food. We didn't have any storage, just the truck. But we traveled around and gave food to the women and it changed their lives. Because in our culture, women always have to ask their husbands for food because everything belongs to the man. And the husbands often insulted their wives when they asked for food. A woman would go to her husband and say, "We're out of food. We need beans, we need soap." And he would say, "Why do you come to me? You're useless." But when a woman had food, whew! She could breathe. She didn't have to work so hard that month. And her husband would not insult her because she had her own food under her name. It was so positive.
Rebecca: It sounds like the experience working for Caritas was life-changing for you.
Aline: Yes. A lot of the job was really social work and I liked it. Then I met Clement in college and we started dating. But we didn't get married until after I graduated and figured out what I wanted to do. I explained to him my life's mission and he understood it. He said, "This is great. We can do it together. I am here." I was happy because in our society, if a man stands beside you in a mission, you will have a voice. I asked him to quit his job to be more available and he did.
Rebecca: What did the two of you do then?
Aline: We started an NGO (non-governmental organization) to work with girls and women in the villages. But we knew we had to get the government and the chiefs and the important men behind us. If not, the people wouldn't listen to us. So we drew up papers that said that we wanted to work with both girls and boys. We targeted the girls but we had to include the boys. Because if we said just girls, we knew the authorities would fight us. Why? Because these officials have plenty of money. They are married and many times they have two wives. And when a woman understands her role in the society, she won't want to be a second wife anymore.
Rebecca: So you had to have a strategy to get the officials on board?
Aline: Yes. We had a strategy. We started by getting our legal papers. Then we presented ourselves to the central authorities. This took a lot of time and work. We would ask for an appointment, starting with the governor. And we would go to his mansion and say, "Your honor, this and that. Here are my papers. This is what I want to do. Please support me." We went all over visiting with different officials. It was a long process, a lot of work.
After that, because we were planning on working in the villages, we had to go to the villages and do the same thing at the local level. We would bring the papers from the governor and visit with the chiefs. I always went with a team, well dressed, very smart, in a nice car. A white car with an emblem on the side was the best. People would stare because they had never seen a woman at the head of a delegation. My husband would sit behind me and sometimes I would not say that he was my husband because people might get upset to see a husband sitting behind a wife.
After we were known in the village, the chief would send us to the outlying settlements and we would meet with the chiefs over there. We would meet him, his family and his wives. They would all be waiting for us. We would bring food and gifts and I would explain what we wanted to do and the women would be clapping. They were so surprised and happy to see a woman at the head and they would say, "Wow! This is amazing." This was our strategy. And it worked out.
Rebecca: And the men didn't see you as a threat?
Aline: No. They didn't fight me because they saw me with a team of men. And they saw it as something new for the population. Because we didn't say it was just about women. We would eat, we would drink. And then I would take out my notebook and ask the women to outline the bigger problems while the men listened. And the women would say, "Oh, our husbands are drinking a lot. We don't have land. We have land but we don't have seeds. Our girls don't have an education. We don't have water in this area. We don't have enough animals. We don't have charcoal because the chief doesn't allow us to cut wood." And I wrote down everything they said and told them we would come back in three months. And then we would go and talk to the church and other community leaders and ask them to connect us with foundations and people who could give us money.
We worked very hard, and the strategy worked. I gave the women the opportunity to speak. And after that, I had a list of problems and could go back to my office and start thinking and looking for people who could give us money for different projects, especially those that helped women and girls. And for the first time, the women had a voice.
Rebecca: What are some of the projects you started in the villages?
Aline: We paid for girls to go to school because it costs money. We had volunteers bring them to school and check on them every week to see how they were doing. And the volunteers talked to the girls. They told them, "Don't go with men. Don't exchange sex for food. If he loves you, he has to wait for you."
Happy school girls pose for the camera in South-Kivu Province where Aline worked
Rebecca: What else did you do?
Aline: We got a donation of 100 cows from a foundation in Holland and we gave the cows to the women. The cows were in their names, which was important because animals are considered wealth in our society, like money. When a girl gets married, she is expected to bring a cow as a dowry to her husband. A cow is worth about $300, which is a lot of money in the DRCongo and if you have a cow, people will respect you. The women were raising and selling animals. And then the cow would have a calf and the economy would grow.
We also helped women get cell phones. This is a problem for women because many husbands don't want their wives to have a phone. They say, "What will you do with a phone? You will just talk to your friends all day long. Or talk to a man." They want the women to obey them. This is a problem here in the US too. Even here, the men in our community don't want their wives to have cell phones.
We did so much! We got money to help women who had been raped by the military. These women are marginalized. Often their husbands will divorce them. Their families will abandon them. And sometimes the woman will get pregnant and have a child she doesn't like. We took care of these children. We found foster families for them through the missionaries. We sent them to school, gave them food. People have wounds. We hugged them. We felt their tears.
Rebecca: How long did you do this work?
Aline: We worked for ten years. But then the chiefs stopped supporting us. They realized we were changing things they didn't want to change. And the war made things worse. I tried to stand up to them. We were writing letters. We were going on the radio. I thought, "They won't kill me because I'm a woman." But during a war, people want to keep doing bad things and it's hard to survive. So we had to leave.
Rebecca: And now you're here in the US doing the same thing.
Aline: Yes. It's a miracle! It's a miracle to be able to do it here. It is hard sometimes. I get tired speaking English. And in a foreign country it's hard because you don't know whether people really care about you. You don't know because there's so much you don't understand, and it makes you afraid to open up. It is so hard to get established here. I struggled so much when I first came, and I see other refugees struggling too. It breaks my heart. I am motivated by the misery of my people to work harder.
Rebecca: What gives you strength?
Aline: I have met many good people. I can look in people's eyes and see. Your attitude will show me if I can trust you. When we were just starting out, good people gave us donations and helped us begin Women's Refugee Care. Before that, I was buying food for other people with my own money and it was really hard. I am grateful and that gives me strength. And God gives me strength too. I pray all the time for my life, my work and my family. I know it's only God who can help the people I work with. Many are stuck and I cry for them sometimes. But God gives me strength to keep going.
February is Black History Month, which has special meaning this year coming as it does on the heels of nationwide protests against racism and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement. We interviewed Monica, a former Beautiful Day intern and a Junior at Providence College about her journey. Monica is a Burundian refugee who came to this country 13 years ago from a refugee camp in Tanzania where she was born. She is active in Black Lives Matter and the fight for racial justice.
Rebecca: Where did your social activism come from?
Monica: It comes from three places. First, I saw police brutality in the refugee camp in Tanzania. We had a curfew and if you weren't in inside by that time, they would beat you to where your friends and family couldn't recognize you. Then, after we got to the US, I saw that this kind of thing was going on here too. One day, my older brother was walking home from school and was stopped by the police for no reason. I guess they thought he was stealing or something. They took his backpack and searched it before letting him go. That's not something that would happen to any white teenager. And the third thing is I'm a Christian and the main message is to serve others and to love your neighbor as yourself. I couldn't just sit back and do nothing.
Rebecca: What are some of the things you've done?
Monica: It started in high school. I noticed that during history class we weren't being taught about black history. They just skimmed through it - even slavery. Like one week of "Black History." And that struck a nerve. Me and my friends, we talked to the teachers and then the head of school. He was hesitant, but we were passionate and all about taking action. And we started a morning gathering of the whole school where we would tell one fact about black history or about Africa or even Asia because there were a lot of international students at my school.
And then in my Junior year, I started a club called "Hear Me,
Hear You" that met to talk about what we faced as black students in a predominantly white school. It was like a comfort zone for everyone to express our feelings and viewpoints. Everyone was invited. A lot of international students, some white kids, even teachers came. The club is still in existence and they go to conferences and keep issues about race in the forefront.
Rebecca: What kinds of issues did you talk about at the club?
Monica: Like when I went with my friends into the community around the high school, people would stare at me like they'd never seen a black person before. And then I realized that maybe they hadn't. This is the 21st century, but there are places all over this country where only white people live, and the only black people they see are on TV. White people really need to see black people. That's one of the reasons why the Black Lives Matter movement is so important.
Rebecca: How are you involved in Black Lives Matter?
Monica: My brother and I go to events: rallies at the State House and meetings in our communities. And I talk constantly to the young people in my life, like my three younger siblings, cousins and their friends, especially in the car when I'm driving them to school. I like to work little by little. If I impact one person, then they can talk to their connections and word spreads. My cousins and siblings get tired of hearing me talk about it, but that's okay. It's sinking in.
Rebecca: Black Lives Matter is mostly focused on confronting racism and violence toward African Americans. It seems that black refugees haven't really been part of the national conversation. Does this bother you, considering the ways that refugees of color have been mistreated and denigrated in this country, particularly over the last four years?
Monica: Not really.
Rebecca: Why not?
Monica: Because I see the big picture. Black Lives Matter is not just based in America. It’s about racial justice all over the world.
Rebecca: I can see how Black Lives Matter could be important in countries like Western Europe with white majorities. But what about in Africa? How is the Black Lives Matter movement relevant in countries where almost everyone is black?
Monica: Most people don't realize that ideas about black people in Africa were heavily influenced by the Europeans who colonized those countries. Many black people in Africa believe that blacks are inferior to whites. They've internalized it. Even though colonial rule is over, it's the way they were taught. They learned to expect that white people would always have power over them. And there are black refugees living in the US who still believe this as well. Black Lives Matter can teach black people to take that power back for themselves; to see that they're not inferior to white people.
Rebecca: So here in the US, you see Black Lives Matter as taking on racism in an American context. And as a world movement, it will fight racism within each country's unique historical context.
Monica: That's right. Like you saw what happened in Nigeria recently. People were protesting peacefully against police brutality and the police came out to fight them with guns and tanks! There's no one there to police the police. Police brutality needs to be fought differently in Nigeria than here in America because of its different history. Here in America, with its history of slavery, racism needs to be fought in its own unique way.
Last weekend, we welcomed ten extraordinary people to be mentors in our Refugee Youth Program. These men and women will work with the teens in a number of ways. Some will meet one-on-one with a youth to provide friendship and guidance. Others will offer academic support. And still others will host special projects. Annu Palakunnathu Matthew falls into the third category.
Annu is a Professor of Art at the University of Rhode Island and teaches courses in photography and video animation. Over the next few months, she will be organizing virtual tours of art exhibits for our trainees, introducing them to the visual arts and encouraging them to explore their own creativity. This week, Annu took the youth on their first virtual tour of the Rhode Island Center for Photographic Arts in Providence. She introduced them to Claudia Ruiz Gustafson, the curator of a photo exhibit entitled "Crossing Cultures: Family, Memory and Displacement." The exhibit looks at immigration through the use of vintage family photographs, exploring the meaning of home during times upheaval and displacement.
The youth were fascinated by the photographs that depicted vanishing ways of life merging with new traditions and cultural identities associated with life in America. They were especially interested when Claudia told them that her studio was located on "her couch." It was important for them to know that art can be created anywhere, even in their homes during lockdown.
We are grateful to Annu for volunteering her time to introduce the youth to art that honors the cultural upheavals and blended identities they have experienced in their own young lives. We hope her tours will encourage them to engage in their own creative efforts. Especially since all you need is a couch!
Some time last spring my wife came home from a visit with her friend K___, bearing in her hands a small jar that contained a gooey non-appetizing looking substance. Now K___ cooks all the time, and most of it is Indian, so looks are not everything, but this one had no redeeming scents of coconut, cilantro or coriander. It was just beige and blah. And small. Her daughter, a physician in Providence, had gotten into baking sourdough breads in this Covid 19 era, and K___ had sent a batch of starter.
Now I know that sourdough breads are complex, and that the starter has to be maintained, refreshed, fed, to keep it alive. It is like a pet or something, except that you don’t have to give it any love. And the baking process is mystical, involving rituals that are beyond the imagination of an amateur like me. I voted for throwing it away quietly, and never mentioning it to K___ again. My wife is nicer than me, and suggested (with a note of commandment) that we should at least try it once, so that she could face K___ without having to lie about the fate of that little, live, starter.
The starter came with a suggestion that instructions for turning this starter into bread, along with how to feed the starter, store the starter, etc. could be found on the website of The Baker, New Bedford. There I found a 25-minute course in how to turn a little jar of starter into a crusty European bread.
I like crusty European breads, and you can’t find them very easily in the markets in Barrington, so I grudgingly agreed to give it a try. Of course, first I had to acquire a big glass bowl, a kitchen scale that would read in grams, rising baskets (bannetons) and a suitable Dutch Oven.
But the bread was great. Crust that would cut your gums, and an inside that was moist and chewy! The only thing lacking was how to modify this bread so that it wasn’t just the plain bread explained on The Baker’s tutorial. The answer? Beautiful Day’s muesli! When you put some muesli into the dough you get delights of nuts, fruits, and the nuttiness of oats.
So, for those of you who care, I have used the recipe from The Baker (see the link at the end of this blog) except that I have added about 300 grams (2 – 3 cups) of muesli to the dough. It doesn’t quite look like The Baker’s bread, but it tastes good. 30 minutes baked in a covered Dutch Oven at 450 degrees, then ten to twelve minutes more baking with the top off to finish the crust.
This week I even branched out and made baguettes, with 25 minutes of baking over a pan of water to keep everything moist.
Early on in the process we discovered an interesting dilemma. The recipe makes about 2 kilos of bread. There are only two of us at home. This bread has no preservatives, and won’t last forever. So what to do with all that bread? Our solution is to make the bread in two loaves (or sometimes one big loaf and two small loaves) and keep one and give the rest away. It is a great exercise each week to think of who you can give the bread to that week. We have two children who live nearby with their own families, so in a pinch they can always take one, but think of all the other opportunities! Neighbors, friends, people who live far away in Cranston! I even have one friend in St. Louis who has suggested I could FedEx a loaf to him (I didn’t do that yet). Seems the right thing to do with a bread that has Beautiful Day built into it.
YouTube Tutorial for The Baker's here
Welcome to our new website which we opened yesterday without announcement or fanfare. This isn't false modesty. We're still making sure the little pieces all fit together and link to the right places. But if you're reading this in the last week of October 2020 without being directed here by announcement, then welcome! A special heartfelt welcome. You are one of our first visitors.
If this were a physical store we'd want to drop what we're doing and show you around. Would you like to try our new DRC coffee? How about a bowl of muesli? We miss the warmth of personal connections. Since the pandemic started we've not been hosting many tours of our kitchen or fulfillment center. At the farmers' markets there are masks and 6 feet of distance and a whole rigamarole to keep things safe. When our whole mission involves removing the silence and distance between refugees and their communities we've especially wanted this store to feel accessible, down-to-earth, human; a place to meet and enjoy the great people we work with. (We now have a gallery of trainees right here.)
I have a lot of people to thank. The development of a non-profit social venture gourmet granola company never goes from points A to B to C. I'll stick with abbreviated names in case people didn't want to be mentioned in this blog, but you know who you are.
It was Ron W, while doing some contracting marketing for us, who insisted we move our store to Shopify. This was over 2 years ago. Before I quite knew what had happened, we had hired Ben Z to help build it out and I realized we were choosing functionality over flexibility in design. The store itself seemed perfect. The subscription functionality was wonderful. Yet the other pages didn't feel right and the holidays were around the corner, so we back-burnered the project. The summer of 2019 we worked with an intern Ben B to get all the products into the store. We settled for knitting the new store into our old website and launched. It felt a bit like building a Jeep with parts from a BMW. Not ideal for an e-commerce business. Not ideal for analytics. But not the end of the world either.
Earlier this spring, soon after Covid shut so much down, one of my first Zoom consulting experiences was with our board vice-president Tino C (who built our brand and has helped with design for years) and 3 key advisors Diane L, Soren R. and John F. Good business advisors usually ask very hard business questions and I had a lot of trouble answering them. (Here's an aside: when I was first starting our granola company and approached an investor about it he told me "Great--get back to me when you're shark-tank ready!" I was clueless enough about business then that I had never even watched Shark Tank--though as a non-profit guy I've since realized that I, personally, will never be shark-tank material. Not unless they just need a bite of red meat.) Yet that meeting proved essential in charting out the direction our new website would go. From the beginning our social venture has struggled with the tensions between selling a product and achieving a social mission and which takes priority in our marketing. You can look around our site to see how we've answered that question.
So many others to thank: Greg N, who I sought out to build the site. He didn't take the project but he took me through a whole education about how websites get built. Plus he's a birdwatcher and thanks to him I spent a whole summer mesmerized by birds. Tino C and his team in and around Giant Shoulders (including Mike V, designer Loren S, developer Jake C, photographer Matt) took on the project at a modest act-of-love rate. This is part of the magic of a social venture: people contribute practical necessities out of goodness of their hearts and we end up with wonderful relationships. Soren R stayed on as pro-bono strategist helping us learn to see things from customers' perspectives (not easy for non-profit folks). To help with the budget, I and my team played a more collaborative role than is probably typical in writing, editing, constructing. This is actually a great perk for under-resourced social venture. It means we already know this site pretty well and were part of knitting all little pieces together.
Jules B worked on the integrations to our database including building our new customer service system. Intern, Sudhir K, built out an integration between Shopify and Salesforce. My daughter, Jamie C, advised on some marketing and subscriptions. A team of wonderful summer interns Lily S, Monica N, and Jeena L (advised by marketing professionals David P and Traci K) helped plan for and install other integrations. Paula C who is lightning fast worked on everything from graphics to editing and helped hold my hand. Our team had a little contest treasure-hunt to find errors. Rebecca won by finding about a thousand. We still haven't decided what prize to give her.
So we're off and running. I'm rushing to publish this because I can see people on the site already this morning. I hope they are pleasantly confused by how different things look. Sometimes a surprise can be a nice gift. And if you made it all the way through this blog and have any thoughts or suggestions or see errors, feel free to join the team and drop us a message. In fact we could have a contest: For at least the first 50 errors, we can send you a coupon for a granola bar for every typo you find. Email me at fixit@beautifuldayri.org.
And thanks especially to Tino. He's been wonderful with beautiful design, a deep understanding of our mission, and great bedside manner. When I called to sign off and say I was happy and we were ready to go live, he said, "Oh it's only going to get better from here. We'll start filing in with pictures on the pages. We'll take some holiday photographs. We'll use get some post-covid kitchen shots. We'll adjust the things that aren't working. It's only going to get better." That's a nice thing to know about your new home.
Please feel free to tell us what you think. Put in some reviews on our products--this builds credibility and helps us show up in searches. Let us know if you see errors. And thanks for visiting.
]]>Greetings from Beautiful Day! I’m so glad to be in touch and hope that you and your loved ones are safe and well. Normally you would find our annual report in this letter as we kick off our Spring Fundraising Campaign. But these are not normal times and we have decided to post the report on our website instead. Please check it out here. It is full of interesting facts and celebrates a year of accomplishments and growth that supporters like you helped us to achieve.
As we look back on a successful year, we also recognize that many things have changed since then. The questions we have asked ourselves in the past two months would have been unheard of in 2019. How do you rent a kitchen in the middle of a pandemic? An unthinkable question that suddenly became extremely relevant when we lost our kitchen due to covid concerns and had to find a new one quickly. With the help of supporters like you, we found one after three weeks.
How do you keep kitchen trainees employed when you don’t have a kitchen? Another previously unthinkable question. But while we were looking for new space, we were determined to retain all our staff because we knew how layoffs could force many to the brink of homelessness. With the help of supporters like you, we were able to keep everyone on our payroll.
How do you adjust quickly to a totally new space? We never expected the answer to be so full of twists and turns. But a dumpster fire on our first day damaged the building and further delayed production. And we made some cooking mistakes as we adjusted to unfamiliar equipment. And thermometers, masks and social distancing added new layers of complexity to the process. But once again, with the help of supporters like you, we were able to replenish our inventory and continue to offer all the delicious flavors you’ve come to know and love. We’re back!
I’m sure you are also facing challenges during this time that would have been unheard of a few months ago. But the story of our recent struggles and successes shows that there is always hope, even in the face of uncertainty and setbacks. That’s why we have named our annual report “Hope over Fear.” In fact, you have been a huge source of hope for us during the past few months. Your gifts, your purchases and your messages of encouragement have kept us going through the darkest times.
I want to thank you for all that you have done for us and to ask for your continued support to help us stay strong for refugees in the coming months. We have made it this far because of the kindness and commitment of supporters like you. We will go the distance because of you as well.
Your gift will help people like Iman who is a vital member of our kitchen staff. Iman herded camels in Somalia and received no formal education, but he has memorized every recipe and can find creative solutions to almost every problem. Not only does he support a disabled nephew who lives with him, but he also supports two daughters back in Somalia who were not allowed to accompany him to the US. In the kitchen, Iman keeps everyone’s spirits up with songs and laughter. But he knows what’s at stake if he loses his job.
This virus has turned the world on its head, but with your help, we will not let it stop us. Too many people like Iman rely on us for jobs and training and vital services. We must stay flexible and innovative in order to respond to changing needs. Your gift will allow us to expand and shift our programming so we can serve even more refugees, especially those who have lost their jobs and need retraining. We know that times are tough, but the need is greater than ever before. A donation of any amount is appreciated.
Please give online here or you can mail to Beautiful Day at 10 Davol Square, Unit 100, Providence, RI 02903. We thank you again for your continued support and encouragement. Here’s to hope over fear!
With gratitude,
Rebecca Garland
Director of Strategic Partnerships
P.S. Our board is matching new and increased giving during this Spring Campaign – up to at least $6,000, maybe more. If you’ve never donated before, your entire gift will be doubled. And if you gave last year, our board will match any increase you make. For example, if you gave $100 in 2019 but increase it to $150 this year, the total value of your gift will be $200.
P.P.S. To encourage monthly giving, our board will donate an extra $250 for each new recurring gift or #TeamGranola membership. For example, if you pledge a $10 monthly gift, we will get $260 for the first month. Wow! You can visit here to subscribe.
Publishing these cards is a group effort with an undercurrent of chaos. Technically these stories aren’t anyone’s job. Usually Meggean, our Operations and Training director, conducts or arranges an interview and finds us a picture. Interns or others on our team might be sitting in and need help. A translator might not show. I usually compress a write-up of the interview from a page or two to 175-200 words. Rebecca, usually catches my spelling errors. If I run into trouble with Photoshop Paula usually rescues me. Someone will stop by Staples to drop off or pick up. By the 15th, Zaid, who sends out the Teamgranola packages is usually politely texting “Where are they?!!”
The deadline is set because #Teamgranola subscription deliveries go out between the 15th and 20th and these storycards are designed to accompany the monthly shipment. #Teamgranola subscribers tend to be our heart-and-soul super-fan partners. They (meaning many of you who are also blog readers) tend to understand how the enterprise and mission of Beautiful Day are completely intertwined. We currently have about 90 subscribers. Their consistent monthly orders are the engine behind production—which, in turn, makes training possible. The card is a little way to complete the circle. Our subscribers get to meet and learn about someone who is making their granola. It all fits with our mission to help people do something every day about displacement.
We’re still learning how to use these cards and how people interact with them. Of course, we share them pretty widely beyond #Teamgranola. I like to imagine them put on fridges or office kitchenette cabinets to facilitate conversation with kids or friends or colleagues. Or maybe they provide a simple moment of joy or reflection. We try to write them in a way that those who are featured can enjoy them too. Even if they get recycled quickly we hope the faces and stories diminish the distance between a healthy treat and a person’s real life.
In any case, I thought a bit of the backstory about these cards might be fun for you to know. For the April edition, Maliss (who leads our Youth Cohort) conducted the interview by Zoom. Niall, one of our college interns, made a little audio snippet from the interview which I’ll put here in case you’d like to listen in for a few seconds.
Appoline took her own picture and sent it by text. And yes, Paula even used Photoshop (on her phone!) to help me edit that photo. No lack of chaos, but behind it all we get a moment to learn more and appreciate working with Appoline. We had jobs lined up for some of our youth this summer, and not sure what will happen yet. But it remains our privilege to be doing this work during this difficult time.
And if anyone wants to join #Teamgranola so that your shipment and new storycard will never fail to show up around the 20th of every month at your door you can sign on here! And if you like our cards or especially if you have had any experiences of sharing them with people in your life we’d love to hear about it in the comments.
]]>Wed. Mar 27
President Trump signed into law a $2 trillion stimulus package that included $349 billion in forgivable SBA payroll loans to be made available to small businesses with 500 employees or less. In an historic move, nonprofits were also eligible for these loans.
Sun. Mar 29
Rebecca attended her first webinar (not the last!) to learn more about the requirements. She learned that funds would be distributed through the banks on a “first-come-first-served” basis. She was encouraged to apply through the bank where we did business (Citizen’s) since those with established relationships would be given priority. We began preparing a list of the documents we thought might be required so we would be ready.
Mon. Mar 30
Keith called our small business banker at Citizen’s. He said we were only the sixth business to inquire. A good sign. We were told we could obtain “priority status,” which would meant we would be contacted as soon as Citizen’s applications became available. Rebecca immediately applied for, and received, priority status.
Thurs. Apr 2
We learned that the national program would be opening the following day, on April 3rd. We started to feel nervous since we had not heard from Citizen’s about when their application would become available.
In the afternoon, we received an email from Citizen’s explaining that their application would be handled electronically and would open on Monday, April 6. This was a sternly-worded email. We were reminded of Citizen’s status as an SBA lender, warned against using non-SBA lenders, warned strongly against paper applications, and told that Citizen’s could not intervene on our behalf if we applied elsewhere.
Fri. Apr 3
Citizen’s sent another email that included a new list of required documents that they might be requiring on Monday. Keith began gathering these documents.
This same day the RI Foundation notified us about an opportunity to work closely with a consultant to help us navigate the process. Our consultant was available for a Zoom call so Rebecca had her first meeting. Our consultant helped us calculate the appropriate amount to ask for ($45,200)
Mon. Apr 6
2:53 PM: We were alerted that the application was about to become available. Rebecca waited expectantly for it to arrive.
7:41PM: We received the application. Rebecca immediately tried to apply, but the portal was non-functional. She informed our bank.
Tues. Apr 7
Rebecca spent all day trying to open and submit the application. Sometimes the website booted her off. Sometimes it would freeze. Most times she got a message saying the portal was “under maintenance.” She started taking screen shots of the semi-completed application to speed up her next attempt.
Rebecca noticed that sometimes when the application opened the questions had changed—this implied that either nobody was successfully submitting, or the application was not really active, or different information was being required of different applicants depending on when they applied.
Rebecca called our banker at Citizen’s to alert him to the problems she was having. He reassured her that there was still plenty of money left and encouraged her to keep trying.
At 7:30pm she nearly completed the application but saw a new question asking for the following information:
"Average monthly federal employment taxes imposed or withheld between February 15, 2020 and June 30, 2020, including the employee's and employer's share of FICA and Railroad Retirement Act taxes and income taxes required to be withheld from employees."
She didn’t understand the question, so rather than give a wrong answer she sent an email to our consultant for clarification.
Wed. Apr 8
Rebecca heard back from the consultant that the confusing question was not valid. The guidelines had been changed. The consultant advised us to leave that section blank.
Around 2pm Rebecca finally submitted the completed application. Hooray!
Thurs. Apr 9
We received an email from Citizen’s acknowledging receipt and congratulating us for successfully submitting our application.
Mon. Apr 13 - 16
Rebecca was concerned because she had not heard anything further from Citizen’s. She was about to call our banker when she received an email assuring her that our application had been received and was being processed. She received the same email three days in a row.
Thurs. Apr 18
We read the news that the $349 billion emergency fund had run out.
Fri. Apr 19
Rebecca repeatedly called our banker and left multiple messages.
Sat. Apr 20
3:41pm Rebecca received this notice:
“Due to the overwhelming demand for relief amid the COVID-19 pandemic, the Small Business Administration (SBA) Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) exhausted its $350 billion supply of stimulus funding sooner than it had expected. Despite our efforts, working continuously since the program was announced, not all of our customers were able to secure funding. Many banks and small businesses across the country had a similar experience. Thus, disappointingly, your application for Beautiful Day has not been funded by the SBA.”
We’ll be honest: this was a frustrating experience. While the actual application took about 15 minutes and required almost no paperwork, the amount of time we invested was pretty astounding. We recognize that the PPP was a rapid response to a crisis, so we were prepared for plenty of confusion and problems. We are used to dealing with confusion and problems! But we were surprised by how thorny this process was. If you applied, we have comments open below in case you want to share something about how it went for you.
Clearly, our experience wasn’t unique. It looks like the banks issued loans for only about 5% of America’s small businesses. And the process has been fraught with controversy. We have all been reading about class action lawsuits by small business owners who claim that some of the larger banks gave priority to large corporations. We have all heard about huge, publicly traded corporations coming away with tens of millions of dollars while small mom-and-pop businesses received nothing. Perhaps the increased public scrutiny will mean that the next round of funding will find its mark and help more of the small businesses it was intended for.
We certainly remain hopeful. A successful loan request could have a significant bearing on our future so we will keep trying. We have been informed by Citizen’s Bank that we are “in the queue” for this next round of funding and can only wait and see what happens.
We’ll let you know!
I was born during a curfew. I grew up in a war zone. Over the last couple weeks I’ve been having flashback memories from my childhood. We lived in the central highlands of Vietnam, in a town called Kontum, not far from the border or Laos and Cambodia. We lived near a US military airport and compound which we always called MAC-V. So military conflict was part of the context for daily life. Just the way things were. My siblings and I had a bullet shell collection. My mom sometimes kept flowers in a brass mortar shell. My parents were linguists working with indigenous peoples who were in the process of being displaced by the war. There were visitors and stories, adults making decisions or talking in a certain tone of voice. There were sometimes flares and gunshots at night, the whir of Chinook and helicopter blades.
When I was around 4 or 5 my parents moved into a French-style colonial house with a central enclosed patio. It had a large area for guests and travelers. It had a front yard with a barbed wire fence, fruit and coffee trees, a well and water tower. My dad built built a cement-walled bunker under the house with steep steps going down from a wooden trapdoor.
Some of my earliest memories, either real or imagined, came from that bunker. For some reason I remember the light down there as a beautiful emerald green. I remember a cylindrical kerosene heater with pretty blue flames. My dad had been in ROTC and part of a reserve unit, so he knew enough to make a guessing game of estimating the distance and counting down to the boom of mortars. For some reason, having a shaking boom correctly predicted for you by a voice you love counters any surge of fear. I remember hand-shadow games on the wall. Or getting to pee into an empty NIDO powdered milk can—what greater thrill could you imagine for a little boy? Most of all I remember long hours of my family reading fantasies and fairy tales. Listening to stories is perhaps the formative memory of my childhood.
I know we can all feel the world getting a shaking these days. I suspect there will now be a break between a pre- and post-carona world and our pre- and post-carona lives. Yet my flashback memories remind me how significant the little things are. My mom pinning laundry. My puppy and a paper birthday hat. The bright scent of coffee blossoms or taste of ripe coffee cherries. The fact that I remember these better than artillery booms reminds me to make room in my life these days for the small things. I’m painting the ceiling of my entryway a twilight blue and a woman at our local hardware store spent a half hour on the phone helping me choose the right finish. What a kind gift from a stranger. And we made a special trip to the store today for cake flour. Tomorrow my daughter and I will bake a lemon birthday cake for my sister. One of my daily joys now is going for a walk around dinner time. Never before have I seen so many apartment lights on or smelled so many wonderful things being cooked in our neighborhood. It has a completely different feel. Even in a great shaking there are joys.
And I just finished the fourth Ursala K Le Guin’s EarthSea book, Tehanu. It also grapples with fear—and in my opinion is the best of the four. Thank God for good books and the miracle of an app to read them to you on your walk at dinner time. I’m trying to be realistic. I don’t want to think about the coming tragedies for the worlds refugee camps when the virus rages through them. The suffering will be terrible. More than anyone else in the world, I think they need our help right now. But I’m grateful for the invitations coming from many places, like Le Guin, to live fearlessly and learn who we are apart from power. I know that fearlessly doesn't mean recklessly. But living full of fear is not really living at all.
With Beautiful Day we are pressing on. Our newest employee, Britta, has been a joy. We have a terrific group of college interns continuing to advance our social media. If you have time to follow us and encourage them by sharing their work, you can find us on Facebook and Instagram. This week, with our kitchen shut down, we did a lot of planning, cleaning, and applying for grants. On Sunday we will look at a new kitchen. Our online store is still open. We’re still shipping almost daily and dare you to just try and run us out of inventory. We are eager to get back into production both for the sake of our employees and trainees, and as a way to keep reminding everyone about the plight of the displaced, especially during this time. Working safely in this environment will be a great new challenge, but we feel like we can contribute to the quality and safety of people’s lives better by continuing the work while taking precautions. We’re holding the future lightly. And we continue to be the recipients of tremendous generosity and encouragement, so we’re doing our best to pay that forward as best we can.
And for my next book: I’ve convinced my wife to take A Public Space's #TolstoyTogether challenge and read War and Peace. Want to join us?
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Thanks to all our fans who went out of their way to express concern for us. We know you have troubles and concerns of your own, yet so many are looking out for us. It was especially gratifying to see gift orders being sent to health professionals or to our good neighbor partners. And despite all the crazy stories about hoarding and gun-buying, or reckless partying, there is also a shadow economy of goodwill, kindness and deep generosity that we get to be both part and recipient of. So stunning and so powerful. It’s a reminder to me that kindness and love—not the stock market or closed borders—are going to save the world.
Like you, we’re dealing with interrupted routines and unpredictable emotions. I feel heartsick for those we know with part-time jobs ending or in jeopardy. I’ve tried to go on a walk each evening this week, enjoying the light and the water and the quietness of empty streets. But the shuttered restaurants feel like a bad dream. And I never felt so happy to run payroll, knowing those checks are especially important to our employees who may be losing other part-time jobs this week. And I’m getting more used to Zoom—at least enjoying my virtual background in Maui.
I gave up booze for Lent, which of course seemed like a great idea until there was a pandemic. The good thing is I’m reading more in the evenings. I abandoned my dystopian doorstopper of a novel full of addicted paranoid characters that I was more than halfway through and started the Ursula K. LeGuin EarthSea series instead, which I'd picked up last year in an Audible sale. Swooping dragons, transfiguring wizards, and adventures on the high seas are just about perfect. Plus the stories come with the good memories of reading them to our kids when they were little.
What I’d forgotten is that they are also about fear—fear of death, of weakness, of being humiliated, of believing false promises, of facing terrible past mistakes. In each story the hero reaches a point where she or he can’t run away any longer from fear. The only solution is a U-turn so that the hunter becomes the hunted and the fear gets chased to the ends of the earth. If you (or your children) are afraid these days or if you just need a little break from Netflix (or too much pandemic booze) these are pretty fun books to read together.
But I thought I’d share a quote and a few thoughts about fear from bell hooks:
Cultures of domination rely on the cultivation of fear as a way to ensure obedience. In our society we make much of love and say little about fear. Yet we are all terribly afraid most of the time. As a culture we are obsessed with the notion of safety. Yet we do not question why we live in states of extreme anxiety and dread. Fear is the primary force upholding structures of domination. It promotes the desire for separation, the desire not to be known. When we are taught that safety lies always with sameness, then difference of any kind will appear as a threat. When we choose to love we choose to move against fear—against alienation and separation. The choice to love is a choice to connect—to find ourselves in the other. (all about love, p. 125).
I keep wondering why our president insists on calling this the “Chinese virus.” I know it’s probably a way to irk and distract people like me (sadly, it really works), but it also seems like a gross attempt to hook the fear of difference that so many Americans grow up with. I feel bad even repeating the phrase.
The crazy part of this to me is that difference should be a celebration. I would bet you that any person who has ever genuinely experienced a deep, meaningful relationship with someone from a different ethnicity or culture doesn’t want to lose the gift of that difference. Retreating to sameness would be like choosing to live in a gray world after seeing one in full color. It really makes me feel kind of bad for our president.
But then also it’s possible that the fear of difference isn’t really the issue; maybe the fear is directed at difference because that's the easiest way to manipulate others. The real goal is to dominate or feel powerful. I do think feeling powerful can give the illusion of having triumphed over fear. But this kind of fear is doubly deceitful because the stronger it is in someone, the less they might even recognize it as fear.
As bell hooks puts it near the end of her book: In a world anguished by rampant destruction, fear prevails. When we love, we no longer allow our hearts to be held captive by fear. The desire to be powerful is rooted in the intensity of fear. Power gives us the illusion of having triumphed over fear, over our need for love. To return to love, to know perfect love, we surrender the will to power... We cannot know love if we remain unable to surrender our attachment to power, if any feeling of vulnerability strikes terror in our hearts. Lovelessness torments. (p. 253).
Deep I know. These are deep times. But no deeper than children’s stories about dragons. Maybe today I’m going to order the 4th book in the series.
*NOTE: I changed the name of this blog post from On fear, love, bell hooks, and “the Chinese virus.” I’m trying to avoid repeating an inaccurate term and stigmatizing, racist trigger in the title. Unfortunately we already used the old title, without quotes, in a newsletter which understandably surprised and hurt people. I’m adding my apology to this blog.
Hi folks,
Just a quick note of apology. We mishandled things by putting “Chinese Virus” in the subject line
So I’m saying sorry. In the blog I addressed what I find distressing about our president’s use of the word, but we've handled this in a way that was ambiguous. I know that anything to do with racism shouldn’t be ambiguous.
Thanks to those who cared enough to speak up. It’s some consolation to hear this upsets people. You are welcome to talk to me directly if you were hurt by that.
Thanks,
Keith
A quick update on how we are doing in this time of rapid change: Probably we are coping about the same way you are—feeling our way along, trying to make good decisions for the right reasons, figuring out how to hold cyber meetings, balancing personal concerns (like helping my daughter move out of her college dorm today) with those of running a business.
I know our work involves people who fall into high risk groups for public health because of minimal English and literacy, unreliable employment, healthcare insecurity. We know we have a privilege and a responsibility and we’re taking it seriously. The experience also increases my admiration for the many we work with who have navigated far more unpredictable and dangerous circumstances than we can imagine, and maintained their composure and sense of humor and grace. We do feel supported by staff, board, supporters, advisors, and customers who are wise, encouraging, and inspiring.
At the most personal level, I’m trying to stay curious about my own anxieties. It’s kind of amazing how much fear is in the air and how it gusts and then pauses with the latest rumor or headline or decision that needs to be made. I usually tend to get clear-headed in a crisis, but I also sense fear waiting there, like a car in the driveway, ready to take me on some crazy spin.
I’d rather not right now. I know fear doesn’t lead to good decisions or keep people safe. Our country was full of way too much fear before we’d even heard of COVID-19. The phrase that keeps sticking in my head is that "love drives out fear.” I’ve just finished an interesting book (bell hooks, all about love) that explores this idea in pretty practical ways. I bought the book super-cheap on Kindle (it seems to be regular priced now) and was kind of using it sleep aid until late February. Then I devoured the rest in one sitting and keep looking back through my notes. I know I can sometimes make the same decision out of either love or fear—yet what a difference between these two.
As for Beautiful Day granola: here are a few things to know:
—We are closing our farmers’ markets for a time, starting tomorrow, as a way to do our small part in keeping our staff and the public safe.
—For now we plan to keep scheduling kitchen shifts, though with a reduced staff. We’re especially like to seize any time we’ve got in production with our trainees (with translators!) and our youth cohort to answer questions and teach what we can about washing hands, social distancing, keeping everyone safe.
—Our online store will stay open for business—so please keep your orders coming! We hope our farmers’ market regulars will visit. These orders will be even more important than usual for our finances and mission as retail sales may slide. Thankfully, we have our own storage and fulfillment center, so we're set up well with a safe, sanitary, controlled-access working space. We have granola ready to send out and even a fresh new batch of our heirloom Ethiopian coffee ready for the coming days of working from home.
—We’re making a financial commitment to those on our payroll even while closing farmers’ markets. Most of our part-time staff work multiple jobs in services industries that could be especially hard hit over the next few weeks.
—We are moving most of our other work including board and some staff meetings to a virtual space. I bought a Zoom subscription today and already took it for a ride. I also touched base with our college interns (helping with our marketing and social media) today as their universities shift to on-line learning. They're sticking with us, even though it might mean we’ll be working across timezones and from other countries. It’s a lot to learn.
Still today is a beautiful day to be unafraid. We have good work to do and great people to do it with. While entering what could potentially be a financially challenging time, we also received a significant anonymous gift this week. Thanks to whoever sent that! It really encouraged us. It inspires us to be part of the the ripple effect of generosity. It reminds us that we are in this together.
We hope you are enjoying a relaxing Thanksgiving morning and that you might have a moment to check out the beautiful faces on our holiday card.
We took the picture in our kitchen—our place of hard work and joy. Each face unique, a story behind each pair of eyes. Since the dawn of time, people have fashioned stories to give meaning to their experiences, to explain the unknown, and to keep the darkness at bay. Stories are part of our humanity – each of us so much more than the sum of our individual experiences. They remind us of all we share in common. And for this reason, especially now, they need to be told!
This is why, a few weeks back, Beautiful Day hosted a special evening featuring four former refugees telling stories from their lives. Teddi saw a gorgeous purple dress through a dusty car window in a Gambian village and it changed the direction of her life. Antoine crossed countries and continents, leaving behind one violent coup after another as he relentlessly pursued his education. Vivian was transported back to Baghdad by a classmate’s casually cruel remark in an ESL class. Aline led her children through a harrowing escape in the middle of the night from the home that she loved.
We are hungry for the connections of stories, which explains why nearly 300 people came out that night. We laughed, sang and shuddered. And we heard things that intersected with our own lives: a little girl’s longing for beauty, the wound left by a careless word, the instinct to protect our children or pursue our dreams.
Right now, forces across the world and in our government are intent on silencing the stories of refugees. We hear generalizations that trivialize individuality and encourage suspicion and fear. There are now more displaced people in the world than the populations of California and Texas combined, yet most Americans have never met a refugee, much less heard their story.
With your help, Beautiful Day continues to grow and we continue to hold onto joy as our secret weapon. For even as fewer refugees are welcomed into our country and services are cut, our storytelling event reminds us that many people are eager to connect with refugees. And as this groundswell grows, fear cannot prevail.
Your continued support is now more crucial than ever. Your tax-deductible donation is an investment in the resilience, well-being, and job-readiness of our newest neighbors. Please give today. You can donate online (one-time or monthly), right here or join #TeamGranola here. Thank you, and may the stories you create this holiday season bring you special joy.
Two years ago when I was a freshman, the new immersion program had been established and my freshman studies class was assigned to fundraise for the Refugee Dream Center. I didn’t know that much about the center until the founder and executive director, Omar Bah, came to speak to us about Moses Brown’s strong, long-lasting partnership with his non-profit organization. After meeting Mr. Bah, I did some research on the Refugee Dream Center’s website and was very captivated by the mission statement: “The Refugee Dream Center offers services targeting gaps within the refugee community by ensuring the continuation of services in their efforts towards self-sufficiency and integration. The Refugee Dream Center does referrals, social level assistance, and skills development such as English language education for adults, health promotion and cultural orientation, youth mentoring, and case management” (Bah). Once learning about the center’s goal to help thousands of refugees assimilate into American culture, I immediately wanted to learn more about their programs and the specifics of their work. I was mainly interested in becoming more involved in the education and youth mentorship aspects of the organization, because I wanted to learn more about the experiences of refugees my own age. Therefore, when my class visited the Refugee Dream Center on a field trip, I was eager to listen to the diverse experiences of refugees who I would’ve never met if it wasn’t for Moses Brown’s partnership with the Dream Center.
Before that day, I had only read - through secondary sources - the stories and perspectives of refugees, specifically Syrian refugees because approximately five million refugees fled Syria in March of 2017 (World Vision). However, to be able to witness firsthand the various narratives from African and Middle Eastern refugees was an experience I will always remember. As a Moses Brown student, I often forget how privileged I am that I have a private school education, a safe home to live in, and a nice meal waiting for me at the dinner table every night. Thus, when I visited the center I was reminded of how thankful I am that I attend a school like Moses Brown, especially because our community is very involved in the refugee crisis through the Partnership through Advocacy club. Although Moses Brown is very proactive in addressing this issue, Rhode Island as a whole needs to be just as proactive, if not more. As the smallest state, we can fortunately develop and spread realistic social change throughout Rhode Island, not just within a few cities or towns. We, however, need to start being more vocal as a community and initiate change rather than expect change to happen on its own. For example, like Moses Brown, schools throughout Rhode Island - whether public or private - should be responsible for promoting and eventually enforcing refugee integration programs across the state, similar to the international programs offered for foreign exchange students.
Additionally, middle and high schools throughout RI should develop multiple partnerships with the Refugee Dream Center and Dorcas International Institute. These connections would help refugee youth, in particular, become acclimated to secondary school environments within Rhode Island. Moreover, the government needs to be involved in the crisis as well, and specifically focus on the establishment of non-profit organizations in towns across southern and northern Rhode Island.
Overall, the way our state can address the refugee crisis is through education and communication. As a community, we need to further educate students about the global refugee crisis and its relation to Rhode Island. For example, in my Religion, Conflict, and Identity in the Middle East class, I have chosen to continue my research on the aftermath of the Syrian refugee crisis. Some things that have stood out to me were the experiences of Syrian refugees living in Rhode Island. Writer for the Providence Journal, Kevin G. Andrade, addresses these stressful, often scary experiences in an interview with one of the 136 Syrian families who fled to Rhode Island last year: “We were hoping to reunite with the rest of our family here. But then, gradually, we are finding that this reunion is becoming more difficult every day. At this moment, we are very sad... After this, there is not much hope” (Alshawaf). Omar Bah has continued to work with families similar to the Alshawafs, whose loved ones remain in Syrian refugee camps. However, the process has its challenges since the Trump administration declared that the U.S. would only except 30,000 refugees in 2019 (Andrade).
Rhode Island must therefore do its utmost to welcome the refugees who are able to come to the U.S. and most importantly, provide them with a safe, stable community and home. Truthfully, if it weren’t for my Middle Eastern Studies class, I wouldn’t have learned about the legal struggles Rhode Island refugees are facing. This is precisely why it’s crucial that Moses Brown and other schools in the area promote classes about the refugee crisis throughout the world, not only in Northern Africa and the Middle East. The more knowledgeable my generation is about the refugee crisis, the better we can help refugees at Dorcas and the Dream Center in the long run. Ultimately, Rhode Island needs to adopt the same vision and outlook as Omar Bah. We need to both welcome and support the refugee community and most importantly, celebrate their diverse cultures and backgrounds with open arms.
Works Cited
Staff, World Vision. “Syrian Refugee Crisis: Facts, FAQs, and How to Help.” World Vision, 19 Aug. 2019, www.worldvision.org/refugees-news-stories/syrian-refugee-crisis-facts. Accessed 13 Oct. 2019.
Andrade, Kevin G. “Syrian Refugees in R.I. Feel Strain of Family Separation.” Providencejournal.com, 11 Nov. 2018, www.providencejournal.com/news/20181110/syrian-refugees-in-ri-feel-strain-of-family-separation. Accessed 13 Oct. 2019.
“MISSION + VISION.” Refugee Dream Center, 9 May 2017, www.refugeedreamcenter.org/mission-vision/. Accessed 13 Oct. 2019.
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Dear friends,
As a supporter of Beautiful Day, your gifts made a real difference in the lives of resettled refugees last year.
As I’m sure you know, 2018 saw the passage of increasingly restrictive policies toward refugees in the US. The numbers allowed into the country were drastically reduced and efforts were made to dismantle a once-thriving national resettlement system. These policies were accompanied by mean-spirited public reaction fueled by misinformation and fear.
But take a look at the photos of our trainees
Our trainees make an unlikely community. They differ in the languages they speak, the countries where they were born, and the ways they worship. They are women and men, some wearing jeans and others wearing hijabs. Some are college graduates, some never went to school. In their home countries they worked as farmers, shop keepers, human rights activists, and migrant camel herders. Under normal circumstances, most would never have crossed paths.
Yet here they are caring for each other, supporting each other, sending a message that it is not only possible for people of different races, religions, and backgrounds to work together, but that there is incredible power, energy, and joy in doing so. These are people who, for the most part, do not share a common language. And yet Jeanette, a Congolese farmer who spent 22 lonely years in a refugee camp, lights up when she talks about her coworkers at Beautiful Day. She says (through a translator), “We are like a family.”
Please help us to develop our programs and services for refugees like Jeanette by continuing to support us. Our greatest need right now is for a job developer who will help our trainees find and keep jobs after they graduate from our program. Would you consider making a gift or increasing your giving this year? Any amount you feel inspired or able to give would be greatly appreciated.
To give online you can click here.
Beautiful Day is a place where refugees learn job skills and rebuild their lives. It is also a growing business producing delicious granolas and coffees. But even more than this, it is a powerful response to a country that is increasingly misled by the lie that difference is dangerous. Please give today and help us continue spreading a message of hope and reconciliation to our divided country.
With gratitude,
Rebecca Garland
Director of Strategic Partnerships
P.S. This year, your donation will be matched dollar-for-dollar through a $10,000 matching grant raised by our board. You can make a one time gift here.
Also, because monthly donations (available online only) make such a profound impact in stabilizing our organization, a monthly gift of any amount (including through Team Granola) will automatically incur an extra $250 match. So a pledge of just a $10 monthly gift means we will get an additional $260 for that first month. Wow! Make a recurring gift here.
Dear friends,
Right now the news is not good.
Refugee agencies across our country are closing. Support systems are failing. You sometimes hear people blaming refugees for the very evils they are trying to flee. And just as the number of refugees worldwide is increasing (70 million and counting, fully 1% of the world’s population), powerful voices in our own government are openly saying they hope to never see another refugee set foot on American soil. They don’t want to hear about refugees succeeding.
We chose the theme “Come Together” for our 2018 report because coming together is perhaps what we do best. It’s our open secret sauce: gathering from many different places — young and old, rich and poor, from the right and the left, from different faiths and world views—to make sure that the most vulnerable among us have the chance to find work, pay their bills, and rebuild their lives.
Our work has always felt important. Day in and day out, it is joy-filled. We feel lucky to cook and pack and laugh alongside some amazing people who have as much to teach us as they have to learn.
But with each passing day we realize that it is also urgent: right here, right now, is a critical moment for refugees. Most Americans don’t realize what is happening. Others are not sure what to do. This is our core message: You CAN do something to support and welcome refugees. You can do it every day.
Take a moment to look at the faces in this report. And as you savor a cup of our coffee or snack on one of our granola bars (or send a gift, or volunteer, or speak up) know that this is YOUR work too. So much needs to be done. But together we’re investing in thesenew American stories of hope growing, families belonging, and communities coming together. For that we are very thankful.
Keith Cooper, Executive Director
B. Allyn Copp, Chair
]]>We had such fun at our kitchen one afternoon this fall, playing around with balloons and laughing. We wanted to capture the joy of the season and share it with you. We hope our joy is contagious.
Yet even as we celebrate the season, we recognize that the holidays come during the darkest time of the year. Days are short, nights cold, shadows long. We firmly believe that light will always prevail, but darkness is real and needs to be acknowledged.
Take Vivian, for instance (far right, in red), who is a former trainee and now our administrative assistant. She was spending a quiet evening at home in Iraq ten years ago when a bomb fell on her house, instantly killing her family and burying her under 20 feet of rubble. She was trapped in darkness for days, her skull shattered. Twelve surgeries later, her face is healed. Like Vivian, every one of the trainees in these photos has undergone an unspeakable ordeal. But take a close look at the joy in these pictures and join us in marveling at the ways that light shines in darkness.
Another case in point. Recent events force us to acknowledge that our country is changing. We’re becoming less hospitable, less appreciative, less open-hearted, and—this shouldn’t surprise anyone—more afraid. In a land of plenty, where most of us are the descendants of people fleeing persecution, we’re resisting helping people like Vivian. We have already severely restricted the numbers of refugees allowed into the country and are now systematically dismantling the services to help them.
But once again, look at our faces. Joy is no less real. Celebration is our secret weapon. We celebrate the daily experience of seeing first-hand the resilience of refugees and the gifts they bring to our community. We celebrate a mission that is needed now more than ever. We celebrate a model of job training that is increasingly relevant. And we celebrate you, a growing team of partners who love and support what we are doing.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, it’s not too late to celebrate with us by investing in the resilience and well-being of the refugee community and in the growth of a company that is using a product as simple as granola (and now craft-roasted coffee) to change lives. You made it possible for us to hire Vivian so she can continue to develop her skills, support herself, and rebuild her life. Your (tax-deductible) donation will help us continue our work during a time when other services for refugees are being cut. Donate online (one-time or monthly), sign up for #teamgranola on our website, or send a check by snail mail to Beautiful Day at 10 Davol Square, Unit 100, Providence, RI 02903. Rejoice!
]]>But if you’re looking for a meaningful gift, I do want to remind you about #teamgranola.
]]>We’ve reached the heart of the giving season and like many of you, I sometimes have my laptop open while I’m finishing off the evening with Stephen Colbert, surfing for a gift that might have a special meaning. There are some cool things out there. Did you know that Boney M once put out a Christmas album? I wonder if I can locate an LP. And Amazon even has a Nic Cage throw pillow. In suede! Wow.
But if you’re looking for a unique, memorable, super-meaningful gift, I do want to remind you about #teamgranola. It’s something you could request for yourself or order for your family or friends. It’s delicious, nutritious, full of variety, lasts all year, and best of all puts you at the heart and soul and strategic center of everything we are trying to do at Beautiful Day.
Some background: Beautiful Day (then Providence Granola Project) actually started as a subscription club (we called it Granola of the Month Club) way back in the holiday season of 2008 before the whole food subscription thing really took off. I had no idea we were at the front end of a Birchbox inspired marketing craze—we just did it because the format made it possible for us to schedule some production dates, experiment with some new recipes, and hire one refugee, a woman named Berita. Over the years we adapted the format to fit our limited tech capabilities (subscriptions are complicated!) usually as a pay-in-advance plan, but the concept helped shape us and became the impetus for me to invent and feature a new recipe every month.
Even now our current iteration that we call #teamgranola is central to our whole message and mission. Beautiful Day is built on a belief that every person should be able to do something positive and practical about human displacement. With nearly 70 million people in our world forcibly displaced from their homes and sometimes countries, this issue touches the core of our humanity. One reason I was drawn to granola (and now coffee!) as a product is because it was healthy, delicious, satisfying, and could be enjoyed every day. DAILY! By connecting granola with a mission, it opened a door for a mission that allows all of us to do something together about human displacement every single day.
The reason #teamgranola is still at the center of our work is because it draws together and integrates all the different aspects of our mission into a partnership model.
Here’s how it works. When you subscribe to (or send a gift) to #teamgranola you become an essential partner in a several ways:
1) You help create a consistent, predictable demand for our products. Having this kind of stability makes building a training program and a business so much easier. Our goal has been 300 members because this would create a center of momentum and traction for our business efforts.
2) Your monthly order then contributes to a necessity for work which in turn makes our on-the-job training viable and necessary. Building our program around real work is essential to our mission. With real work to do, participants aren’t just learning in an abstract vacuum but mastering basic skills as a vital part of a production team.
3) As you and others eat the granola, you are literally coming close to refugees. Those degrees of separation between consumer and maker shrink. This might sound a little touchy-feely, but at least on our end it's really meaningful. Our trainees are proud to make a product that people love to eat. They want it to be great and love knowing it was appreciated and enjoyed.
4) Another way we try to minimize the distance is by including a story with each shipment of granola. These days we make a simple card with a picture of a recent trainee on one side, their story on the other. These stories are critical to our mission of engaging our communities in resettlement. We hope #teamgranola members will share them with their families, put them on their fridges, hang them up in their offices, use them to start conversations. We have good relationships with refugee communities and deep access to compelling stories. As the program and membership grows, we know there will be opportunities for these stories to reach further and impact others.
5) You also become a genuine financial partner in our mission. If you look at our prices you’ll notice that joining #teamgranola is by far our lowest price for granola or bars. In fact we charge only a bit more than basic costs, but then invite subscribers to donate something extra towards program expenses like training, supports (e.g. transportation home from our kitchen), and case management. The donation portion is always tax deductible. While this pricing structure is unconventional, it clarifies the partnership model. By allowing each person to choose their donation level, memberships are more accessible for a variety of incomes. Some members give the $2 minimum while others give as much as $50 or $75 per month—far beyond the cost of granola itself. We provide year-end receipts for all donations, regardless of the amount.
There’s a lot more information on our #Teamgranola page and a handy FAQ here. We know we are still at the beginning of developing this model so we’re open to your marketing savvy. We’re especially excited about providing the service to offices and small businesses as well as faith groups. As we get more sophisticated with our communications, we’ll be able to do a lot more with this concept. For now we’re thrilled to be building an essential team of partners and we hope you’ll consider joining or gifting or requesting a gift-membership. #Teamgranola can be found here.
]]>Ever since this summer when we, meaning our elected government, started separating families, I’ve had a hard time talking, or sometimes even thinking about the ordeal being faced by children at our southern border. I grew up between cultures. And I grew up in a war. I first left home as a 6-year-old to attend boarding school at a beach town in Vietnam. I have memories of things like tear gas. I have one memory in particular of some of us kids from my boarding school standing outside where the breeze was strongest, against our chain-link fence, looking out at the brilliant ocean which was like a sheet of tinfoil in the sun, crying because of the gas. I distinctly remember NOT being sad—I remember it as an adventure. Sure it hurt. It was also very exciting.
One of my surprises in listening to the news this week was my own reaction when I heard our soldiers were using tear gas on migrants. Outrage. Fear. I can understand water canons and tear gas in a riot. But children? For the first time in my life it dawned on me that maybe tear gas wasn’t just one of my childhood adventures.
I do spend time with refugee families. The kids are pure kids: energetic, relentlessly curious, sometimes mischievous, sometimes cranky, easily distractible, brimming with incredible hope and delight. These issues are emotional ones for me. To put it bluntly, some of our choices and policies are child abuse.
Below is an editorial from the Providence Journal written by Fred Sneesby back in July when our Department of Justice began actively separating children from their parents. Fred is an author and in his professional life works for the Department of Human Services and, I might add, serves as our State’s Refugee Coordinator—though he wanted it clear that he wrote this op-ed as a private citizen, not as a spokesman for DHS. He’s been an important support to Beautiful Day, so when he has something to say I usually think about it for a long time. Sadly his thoughts are even more relevant now than when they were first published.
I realize that attention to language in our roller coaster culture is becoming un-PC in certain circles. But Ianguage always matters. “Human displacement” is an important term because it reminds us that we are talking about human beings who have the same needs, same struggles, same pool of complex emotions as you and me. It means we share our most basic humanity and “being” in common. So if something might be traumatic for my child or yours then we had better assume it might be just as traumatic for another human child. Refugees weren’t born into more resilience to anxiety or stress—just different circumstances. Children are always the greatest victims in displacement. I pray for the activists and lawyers who are still trying to reunite those families—they’re doing important and probably thankless work. Even though the damage of separation is done and probably irreparable for the sake of our shared humanity they need to succeed.
I’m trying to use and get used to the pronoun “we” when talking about our elected government. And if we are not able to speak up about our systemic child abuse then we’ve lost the ability to see certain people as human. Most governments have a history of blind spots and terrible violence around these issues.
From what I understand there are upwards of 100 unaccompanied minors in our own city, making up another important, hidden population. Beautiful Day is beginning to explore opportunities to help at least a few of them learn job skills in hopes that this will help provide them with some sense of hope and agency as they find their way through a new culture and into new life. Who knows if this will lead anywhere; if nothing else it will help us to speak up and keep learning about human displacement.
Thanks, Fred, for letting me reprint this. You can all read the original in the Pro-Jo here.
For a few decades now, youngsters have traveled a perilous route from Central America through Mexico and across the United States’ border.
For many years it was a relative trickle of migrants who were managed by Customs and Immigration Enforcement. In recent years, that trickle has grown into waves of young people from Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala, as those countries have sunk into violence and chaos. In contrast to migrants who are seeking a better life, these pilgrims are simply seeking a chance to live.
Over this period of time, the people who cross our southern border without legal standing have been labeled “illegal.” They could be migrant workers coming north to work in one of the industries that rely on such labor (agriculture, construction, hospitality). They could be people whose family members have been killed or threatened by gangs. They could be people who are seeking to be reunited with relatives who made the journey — legally or illegally — and gained a foothold in some distant American city by washing dishes or processing meats or doing piece work 80 hours a week.
No matter who they are, or their circumstances, or their country of origin, or what motivated them to come, they are classified as “illegal aliens,” people who have broken the law and must be subject to judicial proceedings to determine their fates. This is framed as a legal problem, with legal solutions to be implemented by the Department of Justice.
Sometimes, though, the attempted solutions to problems fail not because the solutions are inadequate but because the problem is identified incorrectly. That happened with thousands of children who were separated from their parents. Their presence, and that of the adults, is not part of an “illegal alien problem” or even an immigration issue. It is a humanitarian crisis and a refugee problem.
We are not the first country to experience this type of crisis. Due to the ongoing conflicts in the Middle East, particularly in Syria, millions of people have been displaced. Neighboring countries suddenly found themselves unwilling hosts to people fleeing for their lives. Jordan is now home to almost 1.5 million Syrians who had to leave their homeland. Nearly the same number of Syrians now reside in Lebanon. These are staggering numbers for these countries.
Americans witnessed the heart-wrenching voyages of hundreds of thousands of people fleeing the Middle East for Europe. Thousands of displaced people still live in camps in Greece and Turkey, while others found their way to other European countries. This is not an “illegal alien” problem. It is a displaced-persons problem, one of people fleeing for their lives. We are facing the same problem at our southern border.
The solutions are not readily evident, but it is crucial to characterize the problem for what it is. It is not a legal problem that will be solved by the Department of Justice. It is not a legal problem that will be solved by incarceration and legal proceedings. Legal solutions will not work because it is not a legal problem. It is a problem of large numbers of people displaced by violence and chaos. They have come for refuge.
There are several possible avenues that could lead to solutions, but we will never make any progress if we are trying to solve the wrong problem, not only wasting time on those efforts, but spending additional time and energy engaging in political and moral posturing.
Frederick Sneesby, of Providence, is the author of “Avoiding Martyrdom: the Catholic Church in the United States.”
]]>Today, many of us will gather with family and friends for the traditional Thanksgiving feast. We'll eat, drink, watch football and count our blessings. This is typically a day for gratitude, and at Beautiful Day gratitude is certainly on our minds. We have much to be thankful for. This year, as many resettlement agencies closed their doors, we decided to respond to declining national support for refugees by growing even stronger. And we are grateful for our many successes.
Our gratitude list is long, but here are three that stand out: First, we are grateful for our successful sales/marketing efforts. This year, we focused on expanding our retail presence throughout Rhode Island and our customers can now purchase our products in stores across the state. Plus, we have hundreds of new followers on Facebook and Twitter and the numbers are growing daily.
Second we are grateful to Bolt Coffee. Thanks to them, we have added coffee to our product line and you can now enjoy a nice cup of joe with your morning granola. Bottoms up!
Finally, we are grateful to you for your continued support. Because of you, we can continue to provide the services that will enable many refugee families in Rhode Island to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow in a place they can truly call home. We are grateful.
As we think about the meaning of Thanksgiving, we are reminded that we are commemorating a feast that began with the Pilgrims, our country’s first refugees. But what is less well-known is that the actual holiday was started by Abraham Lincoln in 1863 during the darkest days of the Civil War when our country was at its most divided. Lincoln recognized the power of gratitude to unite people because it reminds them of their common humanity. In his proclamation making Thanksgiving a national holiday, he wrote that the countless blessings that the country enjoyed, even in the darkest of times, needed to be “gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American people.”
We are living in a time when national divisions appear to be everywhere. Yet all of us want similar things: love, security, a roof over our heads, good things for our children. We really do speak with "one heart and one voice" when it comes to our most basic hopes and dreams. As Lincoln acknowledged, it is possible to find common ground around gratitude. As we celebrate this uplifting day, let’s make an effort to remember all that we have in common with our neighbors, especially our newest neighbors. From all of us at Beautiful day, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.
“We knew it would come to this,” they said.
Oh well. You can pick your friends.
]]>My family was laughing at me last night at dinner. I was telling them about the first ever roasting of Beautiful Day Ethiopian Yirgacheffe heirloom coffee. Maybe I was a little enthusiastic. Maybe I was acting as if roasting coffee was something new under the sun.
“We knew it would come to this,” they said.
Oh well. You can pick your friends.
But in case you want to chuckle too—or would just like to indulge in a little obsessive joy and be part of the whole scoop of why we’re venturing into coffee—I’d love to go on about it for at least a few minutes.
The coffee idea came directly out our recent strategic planning process. One outcome of that process was a goal to grow the business side of what we are doing by 3x over the next 3 years. We hope to do this by not only selling more granola, but by experimenting with some ways to expand our line of products. Our strategy includes
a) continuing to explore the best niche for our social venture,
b) expanding the kinds of job-related activities our trainees can experience
c) developing some key potential partnerships with local employers who could function as part of a pipeline from training program directly into more secure full-time jobs.
One reason coffee is an especially good fit for us is that it aligns with our mission to make refugee resettlement and issues of human displacement a healthy, daily part of peoples’ lives. The emphasis here is on DAILY. DAILY has been a central part of our strategy in choosing granola as a product. We of course want to help specific refugees rebuild their lives and find their way in our state and feel welcomed, but the other part of our mission, and the precise reason we’ve chosen to make a consumer product, is we want everyone in our community to have a simple, DAILY, affordable way to engage with refugees. Then human displacement won't need to be some once-a-year in-passing concern. Nor will we need to park it in that “oh-that’s-horrible-but-I-can’t-do-anything-about-it” category of our minds. Some problems need to go in that compartment, but refugee resettlement is all about relationships and community engagement. If you adopt a Beautiful Day product as a daily part of your routine, or better yet, one of your daily pleasures, then we’ve succeeded in one of our big goals.
And BOLT? Wow, we are so proud to be collaborating with such an incredible business. In my humble opinion—and no offense to the other coffee shops we love so much—well, okay maybe I should really watch my superlatives here—but they are absolutely (one of) THE best. Class, style, knowledge. Their master-roaster, Justin, should be our coffee poet laureate of Providence, which isn’t an award category yet, but you can vote for Bryan Gibb as our state’s beverage artisan at Edible Rhody here. (While you’re at it put in a vote for us in Food Related Non-Profits.)
I will have to finish going on another time, but for now we’d love to give thanks and have you participate in our launch on what we’re calling BLACK COFFEE FRIDAY. This will be a one-time, one-day deal to give our die-hard fans a way to get in on the ground floor of the venture. Don’t take our word for it—order a bag for yourself and use coupon BLACKCOFFEE for 25% off any orders made between Thursday evening and Friday midnight. This will be our biggest discount on coffee this season and will help us know how many more beans to order. Then come back and order for all your friends. Seriously.
]]>To quote my own question to myself from an earlier blog: “Isn’t saying I’m voiceless another way of saying I’m afraid?”
One thing I’ve learned about myself is that, probably because I grew up in a war, I tend to have an air-raid siren going off in my head. Sometimes it’s in the distance, other times not. Sometimes it fixates on the most trivial of things. We don’t always get to choose what’s in our heads. Maybe we don’t choose what we’re afraid of either.
I also grew up overseas. Like most people who grew up in widely diverse environments, I tend to see difference and individuality as energizing and reassuring, extraordinary and beautiful. So it baffles me how many Americans, who grew up in astonishing safety and security, seem to be coping with their own personal air-raid siren about “foreigners." Some (mostly on TV) seem genuinely terrified, as though for their personal safety, about a caravan of Central Americans. For me it makes no sense. By population, the US hosts a minuscule portion of the world’s refugees: less than 1 in a thousand. Lebanon hosts 200 in a thousand—more than 1/5th of their total population. Refugees make up about 1/10th of Jordan’s population. What can we possibly be so afraid of? With about 1% of the world now displaced, why wouldn't our great rich secure built-by-immigrants nation strive to welcome at least one refugee for every 1000 of us. If only as a simple way to understand what rest of the world is going through. Then we have a place at the table to discuss solutions to what our world needs. It might help keep our hearts soft. Not to mention that extraordinary gifts refugees bring culturally. Why should we even consider this a burden?
I blame Fox News for the fear-mongering. I know they’re not the only ones but they’ve mastered the formula and I can feel my heart-rate go up when I watch. I also blame the so-called “safety” we live in that is not really safety but isolation. How is it possible that so many Americans have never even gotten to know someone from Central America. Maybe that’s why we’re afraid of a Honduran mother. We’re happy enough to watch a Netflix show that gives us some sense of human connection to someone on the other side of the world or in a different space or time, yet way too few make a personal connection with the refugee or immigrant who lives around the corner.
I suppose one thing many of us have in common is the fear itself, whether it silences us or turns us into trolls.
Here was my thought sitting down to write this: I'll finish a previous blog by attempting an internet-friendly top ten list on the subject: What am I afraid of in using my voice?
Ten seems like a lot. A top however-many-I-reach list then, with a little reflection on each: I’ll see how far I get.
I’m afraid of the the ugly back-and-forth that might suck me in. I know we need dialogue. I also know that I’m expected to have strong opinions about refugee resettlement. But sometimes the troll-voices following news articles stun me: everyone with their mind made up, using words as weapons. I have to remind myself that some of these voices are probably bots. I have a friend in resettlement work who was hit by a Russian-bot-storm because of something he wrote. It’s also been campaign season when our politicians have been bludgeoning each other. So how do I speak up without becoming part of the problem? What does healthy dialogue look and feel like in our new political climate? With this blog I’ve been committed to leaving the dialogue box on, but when do we hide the angry comment? How will we handle the trolls?
Of beating a dead horse. Of droning. When I look back over my blog posts the last couple years I feel like I keep saying the same things: our president, policies devastating refugees, white Evangelicals trading their values and sacred responsibilities for power. There’s a soapbox drone. And a sense of preaching to the choir. For my own sake, I probably need a mix it up and talk about some other things from time to time. We have plenty of options under our umbrella of concerns: our products, the people we work with, the things that make our work so fun. The discipline we are trying to learn of celebrating from the heart. Does anyone even know we are releasing a new product this month? It’s true. This should be my next blog post.
Of needing to say everything at once. I’ve actually done a lot of writing the last couple years. I worked on an op-ed. I just didn’t finish or publish or send it in. I can see this impulse right here in this post: the single thread leads right into the whole Gordion knot of issues in our country. Sure they’re all related, but once it gets too big, it contributes to that impassioned, droning. I’ll have to find my way around that. A thread that stays a thread. Short and simple. I can try.
Of poorly representing our brand by expressing failure or weakness. Or fear. The obvious thing that I’m learning the last few years is that I am running a business. I know it’s a different kind of business than many. But especially as we grow towards becoming a million-dollar organization I can hear the creed of business and politics in my own head: avoid the appearance of failure or weakness. Why? Presumably because wealthy investors would never give money to an organization or leader that is struggling. Yet we work with people who have been traumatized; people who can’t get jobs. Which puts us in the business of welcoming weakness and failure. I know my inner air-raid siren has some benefits. How would I ever be any good at this work if I couldn’t embrace some weakness and failure? Plus, who are we kidding—as a non-profit social-venture making a consumer packaged good, we didn’t survive this far on naive optimism. So I’ll need to trust that our readers can put up with some exploration of weakness and failure. It doesn’t mean we have any intention of being lazy, or giving up or rolling over.
Of writing badly. The fear of the flop. Of not being great. (How I am learning to dislike that word “great.”) This in all its many versions: long winded, too formal, too casual, with too many adjectives or too many explanation points, or typos or oversights; or just not having much time to edit. I tend to write the way I make granola—wanting to get the most out of every ingredient. But that takes time I don’t always have. I think the only solution is just take the time I’ve got and do my best. Sometimes that will be half-baked. My writing friends might grimace, but that’s okay. Most readers are skimming anyway.
Of being too religious—or too secular for that matter. I grew up an evangelical child of missionaries, so nobody should be too surprised that my personal voice and the questions that interest me are often theological. Yet, from the beginning I believed that Beautiful Day should be a secular organization that works with people of all and no faith and appreciates a wide spectrum of voices and perspectives. These days this feels like an increasingly tenuous intersection. Historically it’s been people of faith like Evangelicals who have cared about refugees. Now it is white Evangelicals who are have succumbed to the fear-mongering about them. Something seems to be going terribly wrong in some religious communities. If people like me don’t speak up, then who else will? But it’s hard place to have an authentic voice.
Of the future. I can easily cram 7-10 (or 100) into that one word and be done. Of what kind of world my kids are going to live in, of what things will be like for those who have little and don’t feel like they belong, of what will happen to those who identify with the world’s most vulnerable. Of climate change. Technology. The way democracy is working in America. I wonder if this is sort of the difference between progressives and conservatives these days. Progressives hear a siren going off—that something is wrong, and a hardness is setting in, and things are not going to end well. Just when some conservatives seem to feel like we’re finally getting back on track with what they liked about the past. I suspect part of the solution is for all of us to get way better at actually living in the present. Of noticing and finding joy and celebrating this moment. Maybe that would give us a bit more in common.
Okay. I must stop. I know this is scattered, but if you made it all the way through this post and have a couple minutes to participate, I’m interested in your thoughts. What about you? Are you afraid? Is your fear silencing you or giving you a voice?
]]>I’m writing from Switzerland where Kathy and I and my daughter are visiting my father for a few days. We left during a busy time. And I will be away for the midterm election (yes, I voted absentee). I'm trying to take it as a moment of peace before the craziness of running a business through the holidays begins in earnest. Who knows what the election will bring? I’m nervous about it. Either way, I expect profound implications for refugees, asylees and the displaced around the world. I hope many will keep this in mind when they vote.
It’s been an interesting, beautiful, sometimes disconcerting few days. We visited Venice, where my daughter is studying. I didn’t expect to like it because of the (other) tourists, but found it almost magically beautiful, although old, crumbling everywhere with water damaged streets and walls.
My first surprise came at a little trattoria we found for dinner. I ordered some kind of purple gnocchi, and after just a few bites a tooth came out. Actually, it was just a loose crown, but in the first second I thought, It’s a stone, and then, Maybe the cook lost his tooth into my food. Then I realized it was mine. Immediately, I longed to be home where I felt safe and knew how to reach my dentist. (I’ve since resolved the problem with a little denture adhesive I found in a farmacia in Florence.)
A second, more slow-motion shock was the flood. A siren sounded before we left our Airbnb. By noon we were barefoot with rolled up pant legs and joking about getting “the real Venice experience.” But that wasn’t the end of it. The following morning there were heavy rains and wind and a much longer siren that meant most of the city could flood. (You can see the pictures here.) We took an early train to Florence. (Reading the headlines about global warming after this kind of experience is sobering.)
Now, a couple days later, we are in Basel, where my parents live. My dad is nearly a year into recovering from a stroke that jangled parts of his brain and his life. For a storytelling (self-proclaimed) hillbilly and professional linguist who was so powerfully verbal all this life, this stroke has been a profound adjustment for all of us. He’s cheerful, surprisingly gentle, wonderfully obstinate in his attempts to learn a new way to communicate. He still tells fragments of old jokes or favorite unique expressions and these have an interesting way of bridging (or grounding or anchoring us all) as we make our way into a new reality.
Water, floods, politics, change. There’s a thought about Beautiful Day that I’m straining towards. Maybe it will make sense. So many of the refugees we’ve worked with have told us stories of their lives changing in an instant. The soldiers came. They got separated. She picked up her baby and ran… It sometimes sounds far away and inconceivable. Yet a body can have its interior disruptions. A stroke can have an instant, irrevocable impact on a life. As can floods or elections. (Maybe not so much a loosened tooth, though I keep replaying that moment of surprise.) Figuring out how to live in a meaningful way afterwards seems to involve knowing which changes to accept and which to fight against.
But what I actually sat down to write about was our Anchor Fund. I’ll do this quickly—I feel like it’s my last chance before we switch focus to holiday sales and our annual holiday appeal.
One big decision we made early this summer was to adjust our budget by 50K to create a reserve fund. Not knowing where the money would come from and taking this on just when I was onboarding Rebecca as our new Director of Strategic Partnerships felt somewhat overwhelming. Yet absolutely essential for managing cash flow and consistently making payroll. We run a seasonal business, so our expenses are sometimes the highest right at the same moment when our sales are the lowest (usually May and September).
Because we live in the Ocean State we decided to name this our Anchor Fund. I know that even the need for an anchor is a sign of growth. Anchors are not necessary for canoes (or gondolas). But with 11 employees, and 20 trainees, Beautiful Day is no longer a canoe of an organization. Our board developed policies to govern use of these funds and we set a goal to raise 50K immediately and another 50K next year. Eventually this fund will cover 4 months of expenditures and serve as collateral for future initiatives. Making the decision to try and raise this money did feel like trying to lean into our new reality.
The good news is that this fund is already mostly in place. One donor “anchored” the fund with one-time gift of 12K. This helped us approach a few other key donors for some large contributions. A board member secured a pledge to match up to 10K in smaller gifts.
At this point, because smaller gifts up to 1K will be matched, we have just a bit less than $15,000 left to raise. We’ve decided to make this our last invitation to contribute to it until we resume work on it next year. You can send checks to Beautiful Day at 10 Davol Square, Unit 100 or donate on line. Please clearly designate (on the check or in a note or email) it to the Anchor Fund so that we can apply it to the fund and match. We’re asking contributors to think of gifts to this fund as above and beyond regular giving that normally goes towards program expenses.
Thanks for reading. You are welcome to comment or share any of your own stories that come to mind. This is an important time in the year for bringing people to our site via social media so we welcome your help.
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