28racialprofiling

Northwest Arkansas citizens marched against racial profiling in Dickson Street businesses last week. The group echoed Attorney General Eric Holder's accusation that America is a nation of cowards when discussing race.


The group “Citizens of Northwest Arkansas against racial profiling on Dickson Street” is led by Lesleigh Creel, Corbin Blake, and Ana Lorena Hart. It is a local call-to-action to break out of what Holder calls the “race protected cocoons.”


Creel recognized the need for such a group when she witnessed racial profiling on different occasions. The prominent instance in her mind occurred at the Dickson Street bar Stir. Creel and her friends were dressed nicely in blazers and button up shirts, but one of her friends was rejected because he was wearing a hat. Before they were able to leave, a group of white males in baseball caps were permitted entrance to Stir. “That is exactly why I started this forum- to get dialog going, hear people’s thoughts, get ideas and move forward,” Creel said on the facebook group.


The group started as a vague idea between two friends, Creel and Blake. Through the comparison of various instances of racial prejudice, these two decided that action should take place. “This is a place for people to bring their stories to the table and discuss ideas for action,” Blake said. Creel came up with the idea for facebook publicity, but also had a few contacts in mind, such as Ana Lorena Hart. Using this as a base, the group grew through networking. Since then, members have exchanged and executed many ideas. “Citizens of NWA against racial profiling” has no spokesperson or official structure. Although Creel, Blake and Hart are the facebook group’s administrators and among the most adamant participants, Blake said that everyone has an equal voice.

In the short time since the group's formation, many things have been accomplished. A letter was sent to the mayor of Fayetteville to explain the situation. In it, the resident relayed his most recent experience with the bar Shotz, which is also owned by David Bass, the owner of Stir. The author of the letter went with his colleagues after work to Shotz for music, drinks, and socializing. All of these men were dressed in business casual, so a case could not be made that they did not follow the bar’s dress code which excluded sunglasses, hair nets, chains, hats, baggy clothing, jerseys, hoodies, and towels. Eventually, a bouncer asked them to leave because they were “making the female patrons of the establishment uncomfortable because of their presence there.” On several instances, the letter’s author and a group of his friends were not allowed inside Stir when they were told that the capacity was reached. Moments later, other groups of the same size were granted entrance.


Mayor Jordan was present at the march on Dickson Street and gave a speech, labeling Fayetteville an all-inclusive city against discrimination. Roughly 150-200 people attended, 25 of which were university students. After various forms of publicity on the march, the group’s membership increased to 771 members. Blake said that Bass silently watched the march as he stood in front of his bar.


In the past five weeks, Bass has failed to respond to various members of the group and to Mayor Lioneld Jordan. When confronted by reporters, he denied any allegations of racial profiling, chalking them up as “water-cooler talk.” As a local business owner, Blake said he honestly thought that Bass was simply unaware of the situation. “I tried to put myself in his shoes. If I were in his situation, I would say, ‘This isn’t going to happen, we’ll handle it,’” he said.

Hart works at Just Communities of Northwest Arkansas, which provides diversity education and training. A recent group discussion made informal plans to contact Southern Poverty Law Center’s “Teaching Tolerance,” a bi-yearly journal helping educators learn to deal with diversity issues.

A city council member, Matthew Petty joined the group to provide more insight on how to end the local racial profiling. As a result of his membership, the group has begun collecting detailed accounts of discrimination to pass along to the American Civil Liberties Union.


A Stir bartender said she has not seen any cases of racial profiling in the business and believes the entire story to be an escalated rumor. “I wish the newspaper reporters would come to Stir in the evening. If they did, they could see how multi-racial the crowd is,” she said. Instead of people being turned away based on race, she said people are turned away if they give the bouncer an unacceptable attitude. In regard to Creel’s hat incident, this bartender said employees are allowed to wear hats, as well as the patrons that are close friends of Bass, the bar owner. “We’re not allowed to turn away his closest friends, so the group that was turned away could have seen an employee or Bass’ friends,” she said. The employee asked to remain anonymous.

Photograph

Essay Writing
Journal 5

My all-time favorite picture is of five-year-old girl named Brooke. It was taken on her birthday. The day was winding down after we had taken her to a pumpkin patch for a birthday party, where several activities had been included. She had been on a hayride, picked out a pumpkin, played games, giggled, fought with a friend, played with the other friends, ran, had jumped, had fussed with her mom, made up with her mom in time for presents, and had smeared cake all over her face. This picture was taken on the ride home, when she had passed out in her car seat. Her head is lagging to the side in a very uncomfortable position, but she didn’t move for ages after exerting so much energy.

It’s a black-and-white photo with a timeless feel. It reminisces of many other pictures of children after a long birthday party, whether modern (which could mean they’ve fallen into a sugar coma) or ancient, which could mean they spent the whole afternoon running alongside a kite with friends and playing jacks or kickball. It’s a barrage of imagery. As I look at Brooke in the photo, I see the other children. I see the other activities. It might seem common to you when it is viewed this way, but that is far from the truth. The originality of the photo is just that. It is not original since most families have photos like this one, but when you are looking at this particular sweet little girl, so full of life, passed out on a car seat, you have the sense that no one has loved a little girl so much; that this little girl is more energetic and more loving than those children in the other pictures.

The delicate features of the picture are minute details. Her tiny ear pokes out from beneath her messy hair, just visible since she has her head cocked to the side. Brooke’s small hand is slack; her arm perched on the car seat in a way that makes the hand look graceful and relaxed, even though earlier in the day it was bunched in a petite fist when her cousins were being pushy. The sunlight through the car window lands on her shirt-the one with a black cat on it-and still it creates a glow on her skin, which calls more attention than her cutesy outfit. Looking past Brooke’s peaceful face, there is a country scene. In the field is a line of old trees, setting the boundaries for the big open space used for ranch and farming. The trees in the distant seem to be relatively in focus, while the tall grass is a blur.

If you listen to the song “God Only Knows” and you think about those crisp autumn days when you pulled that sweater out of your closet for the first time of the season and you think about the prettiest voice you’ve heard, and you cry and the little girl keeps on growing anyway, then I think you will see the photograph.

14icestorm

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Simpson

2.17.2009


The small towns of Tilly, Flippin and Rose Bud may be more prepared for power outages initially, but without the federal aid that larger towns receive, potentially harder problems to prepare for have risen. Arkansans faced a variety of circumstances in the January ice storm, from humorous to tragic experiences. Many Fayetteville residents were upset to lose electricity, heat, work hours, and fall behind on school work for an average of a week, but some small towns are still without basic necessities and have much longer to wait. One such town was Tilly, Ark., located between Marshall and Clinton. According to 40/29 News, Tilly residents will not have power restored for about another six weeks.


Though schools in Flippin, Ark., were delayed for about the same amount of time as the Fayetteville school district, citizens there had more conflict involved in their clean up experience. Although the city does provide a service for picking up debris, Flippin Fire Chief Keith Katcher estimates the earliest completion of pick up will be April 1st. Many residents then took to cleaning up and burning the debris around their houses, especially since the burn ban ended in the event of the ice storm. “We have taught the community safe practices that should prevent the fires from getting out of hand,” said Katcher.


Although no fires were reported to stem from the debris burning, an abandoned house burned down completely, while two other occupied houses also caught fire. The local fire department salvaged these two homes before much damage was done. Problems within the two houses caused the fires to start when the electricity was restored. Knowledge of the abandoned house fire came too late for the Flippin Fire Department to recover it, so the cause of the fire is still unknown. During the ice storm, Katcher ensured that the two paid firemen and 14 volunteers worked dovetailed shifts, enabling 24 hour coverage of the city for three or four days.


According to Katcher, the city’s main concern in facing the aftermath of the ice storm is reimbursement. Since the town of Flippin’s budget comes solely from taxes, he is anxious that the town could face bankruptcy if the town government is not cautious. “Our concern is more like how we spend it [town budget] instead of how much we spend, since it is up in the air if FEMA will help us,” said Katcher.
Other than Flippin’s pick up goal, only the smallest of the surrounding communities, Bull Shoals provided the city service of picking up debris within the town limits. “The Flippin Fire Department made efforts to remove all trees from the highways and some driveways, but they were not held responsible past that point,” said Katcher.


Most businesses in Flippin were shut down for the first week of the ice storm, but the largest store in town, Wal-Mart, used a generator to continue services. This became people’s primary choice for business. “People were hanging out in Wal-Mart just to be in the heat and out of the dark,” said a local university student and Arvest Bank teller, Sarah Jefferson. She went on to say that others were desperate enough to spend time running their cars to warm up for a while. While Jefferson was without electricity for ten days, some residents that lived nearby were without for only a day, and still others are currently without. The wide range of circumstances seemed to catch the community off guard. Citizens have continued clean up efforts to speed up recovery, including Jefferson’s husband, who spent the majority of Valentine’s Day cleaning up fallen limbs.


The Arvest Bank of Flippin had a high reputation for rarely closing, with only one absence in its history, but Jefferson said they had to shut down on January 28th, for at least one full day during the ice storm. Local Flippin efforts to push the community through the crisis included shelters set up by two local churches and one by the Masonic Lodge. Jefferson’s church was not able to help, since it was out of power as well. Donations were taken throughout the town by at least four businesses for school children to receive food, water, and some clothing, since laundry was inaccessible. Though Flippin residents are concerned about their own situation, they are also sympathetic to nearby Bruno, Ark., where residents expect to be without electricity until mid-March.


Rose Bud, Ark., residents stormed the local grocery store, Carroll’s for supplies after school on Monday, Jan. 26th, to brace themselves for the storm. Some families had generators, gas fireplaces, gas cooking ranges, oil lamps, candles, while some elderly couples continued to make use of their woodstoves. School was postponed for two days, despite other schools remaining in session. “Our school has to close more often than the surrounding areas because the area is rural, spread out, and not easy to access in inclement weather,” said Rose Bud Elementary teacher, Judy Robertson. “Many students live on long dirt roads and isolated hills that are dangerous for large vehicles, such as busses, to trek.”


The nearby Searcy School District had next to no damage and students were not excused from school a single day. Harding Academy Teacher Robert Allen was not only prepared for the storm, but also became excited at the possibility of a day off, so he stayed up late on the first evening of the storm. When he had to report to work the next morning after little rest, he claimed, “The weatherman schooled the teacher.”


Many young Fayetteville residents had less gas appliances, oil lamps, candles, and non-perishable items, but that didn’t stop them from taking advantage of living in a large town. Residents spent that time together and some found creative ways to become less uncomfortable.


U of A student, Shadi Jamshidy was without electricity for five days. On the first day of the storm, she didn’t realize that the loud cracking sounds were the destruction of trees in the area. Upon walking outside, “I saw all of the trees were broken. Every time I would hear that noise, it would make me sad,” said Jamshidy. That evening, she heated a kettle of water for tea through candle convection, which came at a high price. The few large candles she had purchased at Wal-Mart had cost nearly thirty dollars.


VA Physician, Bronson Stillwell explained how his live-in U of A students spent their week immobilized by ice. “Everyone in our house slept in the apartment next door. This included six to nine people each night in sleeping bags slept in the same room where a gas stove top kept them warm,” said Stilwell. The large group spent time playing board games, sharing stories, and strengthening their bond as roommates.
Although preparation and recovery time differed for small and large towns, there were a few similarities in the way the towns handled the crisis. In Flippin, Rose Bud, and Fayetteville many people opened their homes and shared food, water, electricity, a warm place to sleep, and even turned to Wal-Mart for necessary supplies. It seems that citizens of larger towns simply do not have to be as prepared as the residents of small towns, since they are closer to the front of the line for recovery.

Piano Chuck Taylor-style

“Come on, Mom,” I nervously pleaded, while pushing my way through the halls at Hendrix University. My first piano competition had started precariously. After only six months of lessons, my teacher had decided to throw me into the mix to see how I would fare. My mom & I were left with little help trying to find all the separate rooms where I would compete on different criterion. My tension grew exponentially as I made my way through the halls. All of my peers were dressed up in classic black pants and skirts. I tried my best to blend in, but since I hadn’t been warned of dress code, I was sporting a white tee shirt, blue jeans, and orange converses. Eventually my teacher arrived to be a moral support before my own performance. “What is this,” she said, not asked referring to my outfit. She quickly dismissed the matter for a later discussion. Once I was in the performance room, I was able to forget dress code and focus on the real reason we were all there- the music. I earned proficient in all criterions and made a name for myself in the piano regional, even though I was wearing converses.


Now, as I walk through the Reynolds Center at Harding University, I can appreciate the emptiness before the audience arrives. The halls are lonesome and there is no one yet to critique my outfit, but this time I am prepared. I linger in the reception area, amazed by the grandeur of a seemingly-small place. The series of glass doors gives way to a tiny, circular rotunda. The matching circular table in the center catches the eye immediately with a large bouquet of flowers, lovingly supplied by the women of the Beethoven Club. My eyes scan the clean grey tile and matching grey and teal walls, approving not only of the tastefulness of the color scheme, but the tidiness. My crew would have little to combat while setting up our fruit trays and punch bowls. Crossing the room in a few strides, I stop momentarily to glance upward. The vaulted ceiling above the aesthetic balconies for two more floors must be the supplier of the grandeur this place always gives me, I thought. Finally, I walk purposefully through the concert hall entrance. The walls turn to faux stone, giving a surreal, castle-like feel to the building, illuminated by small, dramatic lights reminiscent of candle aura. As my high heels move from the padded indoor/outdoor carpet of the entrance to the stone slab of the concert hall, I can feel the acoustics broaden, from a simple few steps. A small shiver slips through me, as I think of how my performance pieces will be accentuated by this first simple thing. Click-clack-click-clack, comes my stride, past the matching padded teal seats, past the stone walls, up the dark wooden steps, and onto an all-oak stage. I pace back and forth a few times to rehearse the logistics of my larger movements on the stage. Since that was mostly cleared up, I allowed myself a few minutes with a good friend, the 1920s classic black Steinway & Sons grand piano. A few years ago, I hadn’t completely realized the honor of such a high quality, full scale 9-foot grand piano. Now I was allowed to have one all to myself for an evening and an audience to match. My ritual began by removing the quilt covering, locking the wheels in place, lifting the cabinet to the full-concert level, the highest it could go, and finally, lovingly I removed the key cover and caressed the keys for a moment before testing the cavernous bass notes.


The few short hours before the recital passed with the swift movements of a hermit crab. I didn’t want much on my stomach for the show, so I dropped by Sonic for a snack. Once I returned, I meticulously dressed down into my lavender formal. It had thin strips, little, tastefully small flowers dispersed on the print, a shear covering and a slight ruffle on the end. My white prom heels would once again make an appearance. I silently scolded myself for my outfit choice, having recently learned that my piano teacher’s least favorite color was purple. If only I hadn’t bought this dress on sale! Fortunately, my sister was there to tame my thick, shoulder-length Auburn hair and apply a tactful amount of makeup. Having her there was the biggest comfort I could be allowed. As we prepared, I mentally went over my check list for the audience; the local paper had run the announcement, Mrs. Lewis had invited her colleagues and my future college piano professors, I had sent separate announcements along with my graduation announcements, requesting a presence here instead of graduation if there was a choice. My church had allowed my fliers to stay up for a few weeks and my band had been informed long ago. My entire being leaped at the thought of what size crowd I might have to myself.


The glass doors quietly tapped as people filtered into the reception area. A murmur began to fill the auditorium as I passed through a light cloud of perfume and cologne, down a skew hallway to the backstage area. This was not the only trek I had made to get to this stage. A mere four years of formal piano lessons, countless competitions, one week of piano camp, endless practice sessions with Mrs. Lewis and my duet partners, about 150 hours of practice time over nine months had brought me to this evening. I had nine songs to play by memory to an audience of about two hundred people. Mrs. Lewis soothed me with a bottle of water and her kind, motherly words, and by remaining constant. She was wearing a typical outfit of hers: black pants, a plain black blouse and a sheer black overlay, all matching her black rimmed glasses, and had styled her thin blond hair into the perfect helmet-shape as she always had. She took all of my nervousness in stride, gave a gushing welcome speech to talk me up as I reconsidered my life and then broke free of the chains in my mind. This is what I had lived for.


In the space of about thirty seconds, I gathered myself and strode confidently onto the stage. The brilliant stage lights warmed my skin as I glanced at the sea of familiar, supportive faces, then poised a thin, shaking hand on the edge of the Steinway and took my opening bow. The insecurity of being a teenager melted off of me. The ridiculous schemas of high school could no longer hold me back. There was one week until my high school graduation and as far as I was concerned, this concert was the beginning of my journey into womanhood. Unleashed from the binds that had held my persona the past several years, I was free to deliver my work as a pianist and not as a rookie. With the exception of applause, I wandered into my own world since the songs had become a deep part of me. I loved them more than anything else at that time. With each rise and swell of the music, the audience had a brief glimpse of the emotional contours of the song, the emotional journey that had built this concert, the emotional process that had built me.


The immaculate stage was so inviting and friendly in my mind, despite that I was technically alone on it. The fresh, invigorating scent of a bouquet of fresh flowers set on the music rack of the piano reminded me of two things. First, that Mrs. Lewis’ suggestion to maintain a formality to the event had been accepted as a responsibility for my father. Also, that Dad was encouraging me in a small way after supporting me for so long. He had paid for the piano lessons, driven me to the competitions and recitals and I had kept my end of the deal by winning piano scholarships, so this was a final gesture. Flowers. “You did it, against the odds,” they seemed to say for Dad. From the audience came whispers, murmuring, sneezing, and children struggling to sit still. Overall, these were comforts, not distractions. With my chosen audience, I knew the whispers were not condemning and the sneezing kept me in check with reality. These were the people I had been taught by: my Band Director, a few English teachers, my parents and family, a few children that looked up to me while also taking lessons from Mrs. Lewis, the friends I would graduate within a week. In no way could I possibly feel alone in this moment. The anticipation of college approaching was put into overdrive. If such a large gathering of people were here for me now, I was certain that they would be available to mold me throughout my college experience.


All too fast, I came to the end of my repertoire. My homely crowd cheered and pulled an encore out of me. I stood for my final bow to face a standing ovation, feeling the end of something great and the beginning of something promising. Upon exiting the stage, I greeted each person individually in the lobby. The reassurances, the compliments, the surprises seemed to be met by someone new. The girl that had once competed in blue jeans and converses could successfully manage a full-scale solo recital. She could walk in heels without tripping on the stage. She had learned a new form of etiquette, how to act at competitions, how to win modestly and take in stride the next level of competition. She had managed college performance scholarship auditions and worked with people beyond her experience to learn new crafts and old chords. She had spent long hours on changing the performances, but it had changed her.

7profile

Profile on Lana Hazel
2.7.2009

"Carpe diem" might be the best way to describe 19-year-old Lana Hazel. She actively searches for a challenge- three majors, two bible studies, several hobbies and studying in foreign countries are just a few ways that she gets the most out of her day.


While many college students battle one major, one job, and spend extra time watching TV or hitting the bars, Hazel’s agenda is far from the ordinary. In fact, she doesn’t even own a TV, which one might understand after learning that her three majors are Spanish, Math, and Journalism. Hazel simply couldn’t decide among these three areas, so she surveyed the amount of time it would take and decided it was a worthwhile feat. Before graduating high school, Hazel made the most of her time by earning many hours of college credit through Advanced Placement credit, leading to this window of time for her. There were few major influences in her decision to take on these three disciplines. In high school, the teacher that was the most inspiration for Hazel was a history teacher, even though she did not enjoy history. “He was well organized and humorous, so he made the class interesting,” she said. Hazel's mother is a high school math teacher, which sparked her early interest in math. Although she has taken so much onto her educational plate, Hazel expects to graduate in May of 2011, as the rest of her class would. In the future, she hopes to integrate the majors while working for National Geographic as a journalist and photographer.


Her extremely dynamic behavior has become a lifestyle and seems to stem from habit. When asked what her main motivation for so much activity and involvement could be, Hazel replied, “Why get involved? Well, I can’t think of reason not to…why not?” In high school, a constant drive for involvement paid off for her. She was in the marching band’s flag line, concert and jazz bands as a saxophonist, had taken eleven years of piano lessons, volunteered at a Christian camp, worked in a law office and volunteered over three hundred hours of community service, just to name a few. Hazel graduated as the Valedictorian of her class, but claims her most noteworthy accomplishment was becoming the Arkansas Presidential Scholar. Despite her constant activity, she learned a strong sense of balance. She remained well-connected with the girls of her bible study, formed a strong friendship with her mother and grew close to her little brother. A particularly strong friendship from high school led to a major comfort for Hazel during her first years at the U of A. Her best friend, Laura Peery, became her roommate for two years and counting.


Although many people in Hazel's situation might neglect certain responsibilities, such as relationships with roommates, this is not the case for her. Peery came to know Hazel by keeping up with her in middle school and continuing in high school. The two girls were involved in many of the same activities, such as flag line, band, bible study, clubs and even classes. This gave them many chances to learn and grow together. "She's always been very goal-oriented and focused on what she wants from school, but definitely has always had time to hang out and have a down time," Peery said. As a best friend and roommate, Peery doesn't view her friend's habits as filler activity or a means to end boredom. Rather, she sees them as her personal interests, things she does for enjoyment and does not feel pressured to do.


Perhaps the most extreme example of Hazel’s curiosity-turned-ability is her entire experience with Spanish courses. In high school, she completed four years of this class, with the last being an independent study. A classmate of hers, Josh Rutherford, said she made it look easy, “Even though I was good at speaking Spanish, Lana was good at Spanish grammar. When our grades came through, she had an A and I had a D. I thought to myself…how’d she do that?” Rutherford said it was just in Hazel’s nature to go after as many experiences as she could. “I always wondered how she did everything,” he said.


After merely one year of college, Hazel studied abroad in Spain. Although many study abroad students will travel with their own group of friends, Hazel braved the trek alone. “My best friend from high school, Andrew, was going to come with me, but he called and canceled on the morning of (the trip’s beginning),” Hazel said. During this experience, she stayed with one other student and their host, a single mom. This did not take anything away from the experience, even though she would have preferred living with an entire family. She enjoyed being able to grow closer to the host mom. “When it was just the two of us, we were able to talk about more deep issues and topics,” Hazel said. “It was neat to be able to connect in a different language.” Among her favorite benefits of the trip to Spain, she said she enjoyed how real everything seemed. An avid reader, Hazel explained that living in a country brought the place to life, away from mere words on a page. Now she has come away with experiences, faces with names, bright colors and concrete details. “It’s like that song, ‘It’s a Small World’. Things aren’t other worldly anymore,” she said.


Hazel has learned a way of life that suits her, a unique way of experiencing all the world has to offer in her very own, seemingly fast pace. As of now, Hazel sees no signs of slowing down in the near future. She has already arranged for a second study abroad trip to Costa Rica this summer.