Parenting for Liberation. Trina Greene Brown

to each other and being happy to see each other in the neighborhood. While leasing, all of my landlords were Black so I got to see Black people owning property and I paid rent to people that looked like me. While walking down the street, I saw people who knew my name—this was just totally different from how I grew up.

       “Now I live in San Diego, California. Moving here from Brooklyn was a really life-changing experience which helped in further developing my identity as a Black woman. In San Diego, there’s 8 percent Black people, which is small but substantial, because it means that the Black people here know each other. Since we’re such a small community, we are able to build deep bonds and connections. I’ve recently discovered other families that share similar values and I make time to hang out with them. I’ve identified individuals like these and slowly created a village. There are at least ten folks that I celebrate Kwanzaa with every year who I can call for babysitting, host a book club with, and just create a network.”

       Another White World

      “I sing at the opera, which is a similar phenomenon to my childhood because it’s a very white space for me as well, although I am working on decolonizing the arts. I’ve been in the theater opera world since high school, and back then I knew I was the only Black kid and I knew that it was a predominantly white space, but it wasn’t deeply affecting me because my whole day was that way. I always tried to blend in; I wasn’t trying to stick out, so my Blackness was very subdued. However, now that I’ve lived in Brooklyn and experienced a real Black village, my Blackness is a part of what keeps me stable and whole. Now, I’m working with Art for a Changing America and some other campaigns on decolonizing the arts and pushing for racial justice and representation in the arts. I formed my collaborative, museSalon, to be a resource to other artists like myself to be able to financially sustain themselves.”