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Wednesday, March 29, 2023

Inside a Brooklyn School Teaching the Course That Florida Banned - The New York Times

Inside a Brooklyn School Teaching the Course That Florida Banned

"Students taking the African American studies class have learned about ancient kingdoms, 20th-century movements and modern issues.

A woman in a yellow cardigan sits at a table with several smiling students.
Shannah Henderson-Amare, center, teaches the new Advanced Placement course in African American Studies at Brooklyn Preparatory High School in Williamsburg. It is the only New York City school offering the class this year. José A. Alvarado Jr. for The New York Times

Halfway through a yearlong high school course in African American studies, Shannah Henderson-Amare asked her students to think about college — but with a question that many had never heard posed in a classroom before: Could they name the “Divine Nine,” the popular nickname for a group of the nation’s Black fraternities and sororities?

One senior immediately responded: “The Kappas!”

“Alphas.”

“Deltas.”

“The Ques!” others shouted out in succession.

For these New York City high school students, the exercise served as the gateway into a day’s discussion about historically Black colleges and universities, or H.B.C.U.s — their history, influence and modern relevance. The lesson was part of a new Advanced Placement course in African American Studies.

The College Board, which administers Advanced Placement exams, introduced the class in the fall. It is being tested in about 60 schools this year, before becoming widely available in the fall of 2024. But the course was thrust into a national firestorm after Florida banned it, one of a series of moves the state has taken to restrict teaching about race.

Officials had argued that the approach to issues including Black queer studies, reparations and intersectionality was both unbalanced and illegal. Several other states, including Arkansas and Mississippi, have now launched their own reviews of the course’s material.

Still, other cities and states, including New Jersey, have pressed forward and plan to expand the class.

In New York City, Brooklyn Preparatory High School in Williamsburg is the only school offering the class this year. At least 48 city schools will offer the class in the fall, the College Board said.

Students and families at Brooklyn Prep and elsewhere in the city have clamored for Black studies: Three years ago, they were among the nearly 30,000 people who signed a petition asking the College Board to create two classes on the subject. So far, the students in the course say it has been one of the most valuable experiences of their school years, because it has allowed them to focus on Black life and history beyond the fundamentals of slavery and civil rights.

“What struck me was the conversations we started having: People that didn’t talk in class found their voice,” said Khia Williams, 18, a senior in the class, who added that previously she had only had similar conversations with her grandmother and other family members.

As unrest flared across the nation after the killings of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd in 2020, teenagers at Brooklyn Prep, where about 40 percent of the students are Black and half are Latino, helped spearhead the petition for the course after expressing disappointment that there was no A.P. course devoted to the tough issues they were discussing at home and in their classrooms.

When the pilot course was initially announced, Brooklyn Prep was not among the high schools invited to join, but Ms. Henderson-Amare pushed for the school to be included. Nearly 170 teenagers were interested in enrolling in the class, almost a third of the school. (About 30 students ultimately enrolled.)

On a recent Thursday, during the lesson on H.B.C.U.s, which were once the primary path for Black Americans to obtain a higher education, the teacher guided the students through a discussion that touched on various issues.

One student connected the schools with the 20th-century “New Negro” movement and the tensions between differing views on Black advancement in America. Classmates weighed W.E.B. Du Bois’s emphasis on liberal arts education and a more confrontational approach to equal rights against Booker T. Washington’s belief that building vocational skills and enduring segregation would lead to gains.

The teenagers then discussed how old ideas still play a role in modern debates on Black social progress. Some discussed how their parents took pride in their culture but also told them to be careful about how they express their racial and ethnic identities, or to “code-switch,” in professional environments or predominately white social spaces.

“I feel like it’s a generational trauma type of thing,” a student responded. “My mom will always tell me ‘When you go outside, watch how you talk because people are going to look at you and judge you.’ She’s like, ‘I want you to do better for yourself than me.’”

Earlier in the year students had been particularly interested in lingering on a unit that focused on Black resistance, Ms. Henderson-Amare said. The room had erupted into animated conversations during lessons on groups like the Maroons, enslaved Africans who lived in places including Jamaica, Colombia and Suriname and who had escaped to freedom centuries ago.

The students also analyzed the meaning of the hymn “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” widely known as the Black national anthem; many were not fully aware of the themes of resilience, perseverance and struggle in the lyrics.

Leon Woolford, 17, a senior at the school, said he had realized that his understanding of even better-known parts of Black history was incomplete.

He had been surprised during a recent lesson on the Freedom Riders, whose bus rides across the South in 1961 challenged the segregation of public transportation and set the stage for major civil rights legislation: “I thought I at least knew something, and I had the totally wrong idea,” he said.

In elementary and middle school, Mr. Woolford said, he had participated in discussions much less often. But when the A.P. class delved into the poem “We Wear the Mask,” by Paul Laurence Dunbar, about the ways Black people can hide pieces of their identities and struggles from society, he said it attached “so much more importance to what we do every day.”

The students have pushed for the chance to explore issues beyond those in the course. Kwanzaa, for example, is not mentioned in the curriculum. But the class commemorated the holiday in December, and students created projects on the seven principles central to the weeklong celebration.

Students said the A.P. course had led many of them to consider their future in new ways.

Toward the end of the lesson on H.B.C.U.s, Ms. Henderson-Amare asked the class to weigh the merits of those kinds of schools against predominantly white institutions, and of academic higher education versus career and technical learning as potential pathways to a better life.

One student asked, “What does it even mean to have a good life?”

The teenagers quickly began chiming in, considering the importance of a high-income career compared with other routes to a rich and satisfied life, until it was time to head to their next class."

Inside a Brooklyn School Teaching the Course That Florida Banned - The New York Times

Opinion | As a Doctor, I Know Being Ready to Die Is an Illusion - The New York Times

As a Doctor, I Know Being Ready to Die Is an Illusion

A person’s hand placed on the head of a hospice patient lying in a bed.
Joshua Bright

By Sunita Puri

"Dr. Puri is the author of “That Good Night,” a memoir about her work as a palliative medicine physician.

Nine years ago, near the end of my residency training, I sat across from a patient, wondering whether he’d accepted that he was dying. He was in his 60s, an artist with sinewy arms and serene eyes, someone I’d come to know well over the past three years. Cancer had broken into his liver and bone marrow, robbing him of hunger and energy.

Each time I saw him, the hollows of his cheeks deepened. I wanted to tell him that he was dying, that I wanted to understand how he envisioned spending his remaining life. But he mostly spoke about his plans: a camping vacation in six months, a friend’s wedding after that.

I awaited some sort of arbitrary signal that it was safe to talk about dying. Maybe he’d tell me that he didn’t want more chemotherapy or that his affairs were in order. Like many physicians, I feared that by talking about death before he appeared ready, I might take away his hope, make him give up or send him into an unstoppable tailspin of anxiety and depression.

Whether he hadn’t accepted his fate or simply wished to avoid the subject, he didn’t appear to be ready to talk about his death. How could I reconcile what appeared to be our radically different interpretations of his condition? By waiting for him to act in ways that I understood as acceptance, I thought that I was being compassionate and sensitive.

“I don’t think he understands how sick he is,” I told my supervisor. “He’s not there yet.”

In the years since, I have learned that trying to find immutable evidence of someone’s readiness to die is like trying to wrap your arms around a ghost.

Reconsidering what we think acceptance means — and whether it will come to pass — requires loosening our expectations of those who are dying. To become better at talking to one another honestly about death and to truly prepare for it, we must first understand why we expect the dying to demonstrate readiness in the first place.

During residency, my compatriots and I relied on Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s stages of dying. We were quick to diagnose denial and wait for acceptance. We assumed certain decisions that we wanted people to make reflected readiness — a patient with heart failure who agreed to a do-not-resuscitate order, another with emphysema who enrolled in hospice.

But if patients dying of cancer insisted on life support, we figured that they probably weren’t there yet. When people sobbed or screamed during conversations about their illness worsening, we told ourselves they simply weren’t ready. We didn’t want to stumble through the thicket with them; we wanted to meet them at the clearing.

My patients’ families often searched for similar clues, their pain amplified if their loved one didn’t appear to have come to terms with death or wasn’t ready to let go. Such searching, while well intentioned, betrays fears about suffering — the patients’ and our own. If the dying reassure us that they are ready to die, perhaps we may live with a softer grief. If they show us that they are ready to go, we can be readier to let them go.

The stark separation between those who are dying and those who are not is complicated inside a hospital. Family members and medical teams experience and respond to dying people’s suffering in distinct ways. Yet doctors and families alike can shackle those who are dying with gauzy expectations: Perhaps they have newfound wisdom to bestow. Maybe their regrets will remind us what really matters in life. Saccharine fantasies of deathbed reconciliations protect us from the full spectrum of our emotions and those of the people we will lose. But romanticizing the dying strips them of their complexity. They are still human, equally capable of picking fights or making amends.

Fantasy also obscures a scarier question: If a loved one or a patient isn’t ready to die, how should we respond?

It is easier to search for readiness than to process what its absence means. Distilling human experience into supposedly self-explanatory concepts like accepting death becomes a bandage that we apply, hoping that the raw emotions about death won’t bleed through. We want neatness and containment, not the spill of grief.

But death is never neat. A good death should be defined by how well and honestly we care for the dying, not by their performance on our behalf. Expecting them to make death a process full of insight and peace only limits our full emotional and spiritual participation in their death. By sacrificing neatness, we can have a conversation about what the dying truly need from us. Understanding their authentic experiences helps us not only to see them more fully but also to prepare, together, for losing them.

Nine years ago, I wasn’t ready to confront my expectations of my patient; doing so would have required dismantling the myths I had about myself as a steward of hope. My expectations were a self-aggrandizing way of holding him at a distance. Fearing that he couldn’t handle a conversation about death was infantilizing, a form of paternalism, however well intentioned. How was I any different from physicians in decades past who withheld a person’s diagnosis to spare them suffering they supposedly couldn’t handle?

To be the physician my patient needed, I had to accept that neither he nor I could be fully prepared for his death. I had to trust that a man three decades my senior was capable of handling life-altering information, that he experienced tremendous loss before, that nothing and nobody could control how he would contend with this last leg of his life. But instead, I waited for him to initiate a conversation that was my responsibility to start.

Now, as an attending physician, I hear echoes of my younger self when I talk with residents. If they mention that a patient isn’t ready to die, I ask what it looks like for someone to be ready to die. I remind them, gently, that awaiting specific imaginings of readiness may only justify excusing themselves from sharing hard truths with someone whose reactions they cannot anticipate. Abandoning this search may allow them to care for people in a way that might inspire their own versions of preparation.

Nine years ago, I think my patient sensed both my urge to tell him something and my hesitance. “Are you OK?” he asked me one day.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” I stammered, looking past him at the eye chart on the wall. “I’m worried about you, because every time I see you, you’re losing weight and seem less like yourself.”

“It’s because I’m dying.” He was matter-of-fact, as though he’d just said it was raining outside.

I was stunned, then relieved. Yet I still struggled to tell him what I wanted to say. “I am so sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s not your fault. My father died in my arms. So did my wife,” he said. “It’s just my turn now.”

“I feel bad that I didn’t talk to you about this sooner,” I said. “I thought I’d upset you or maybe you weren’t ready yet.”

He laughed. “Ready?” he said. “I’ve wrapped my head around being dead, certainly. Not sure if I’ll ever really be ready. It’s not like packing a bag and standing outside waiting for a taxi.”

He died in his sleep a month later, missing his vacation and his friend’s wedding. Even if he told me he was ready, nothing could have lessened the blunt force of losing him."

Opinion | As a Doctor, I Know Being Ready to Die Is an Illusion - The New York Times

Tuesday, March 28, 2023

France secretly owns 14 countries

Who Is Most At Risk for Long Covid? - The New York Times

Who Is Most at Risk for Long Covid?

"A new analysis summarizes the emerging picture of factors that make long-term post-Covid symptoms more likely.

A woman rubs her face with her eyes closed while she sits on a long couch, wearing a black shirt and black pants but barefoot in her living room. An open laptop rests in her lap and there is a neck pillow and another medical device on the couch to her left.
A patient living with long Covid since her infection in March 2020 in Massachusetts. The analysis involved a total of 860,783 patients and found patients were more likely to be female.Brian Snyder/Reuters

Which coronavirus patients are most at risk for developing long Covid?

A new analysis of research conducted during the first two years of the pandemic helps crystallize some answers that have been emerging.

It found that patients over 40, those with previous health issues and those who had a severe coronavirus infection had greater risk of developing long Covid. And it affirmed a growing consensus that vaccination lowers that risk.

The analysis, conducted by a team of researchers in Britain and published in the journal JAMA Internal Medicine, looked at 41 studies published between the beginning of the pandemic and Dec. 5, 2022. The studies, which had all been peer-reviewed, involved a total of 860,783 patients.

The report evaluated the patients’ risk of post-Covid symptoms — including shortness of breath, fatigue, brain fog, headache, and loss of taste and smell — more than three months after their infection.

People who received two doses of a Covid vaccine before becoming infected were 43 percent less likely to develop long Covid. The analysis did not look at the role of boosters.

The authors wrote that the emerging evidence suggested that vaccination reduced the risk of long-term symptoms “even in individuals with other risk factors, such as older age or high B.M.I.”

Other studies that were not included in the analysis have also suggested that vaccines can reduce, though not eliminate, the risk of long Covid.

Risk factors analyzed in the paper included:

Being female

Women were one and a half times as likely as men to develop long Covid. The authors and other researchers have suggested several possible reasons for this, including that hormone levels or disruption in hormone production may perpetuate inflammation caused by the initial infection and that higher levels of some antibodies in women might contribute to lingering symptoms.

Being over 40

The long Covid patients in the analysis were about 20 percent more likely to be older than 40. The analysis found that people 70 and older had the same risk as those who were 40 to 69, but the researchers suggested that might be because people over 70 were more likely to die from their initial infection.

Being obese

People were at increased risk for long Covid if they were obese, the analysis found. Obesity, they wrote, often involves a metabolic inflammatory process that could prolong post-Covid health issues.

Being a smoker

Smoking was also a risk factor, the researchers found, although they said it was unclear if that was because of the smoking itself or illnesses associated with smoking.

Having previous medical conditions

Of the medical issues analyzed in the study, immunosuppressive conditions appeared to lead to the greatest increased risk of long Covid. People with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, ischemic heart disease or asthma faced the next highest levels of increased risk. There was also elevated risk of long Covid for people with anxiety, depression, chronic kidney disease or diabetes.

The sicker people were during their initial infection, the more likely they were to experience lingering health problems. Patients who were hospitalized, whether in intensive care or not, were nearly two and a half times as likely to develop long Covid than patients who were not hospitalized, the analysis found.

“Patients with previous critical illness represent a high-risk population, and their follow-up should reflect intensive plans for prevention, rehabilitation and treatment of the ongoing debilitating symptoms,” the authors wrote.

However, since a majority of people infected with the coronavirus have not needed to be hospitalized, there are greater numbers of long Covid patients whose initial infection was relatively mild.

Other research, not included in the analysis, has focused on more detailed biological characteristics. One study published in 2022 found that people were more likely to develop long Covid if, at the time of their infection, they had factors including certain autoantibodies — antibodies that mistakenly attack tissues in the body as they do in conditions like lupus and rheumatoid arthritis — or reactivated Epstein-Barr virus, a virus that infects most people and then usually becomes dormant.

The new analysis involved patients infected during waves of various coronavirus variants, but the authors did not analyze the variants separately.

“It is unlikely that the risk factors” associated with long Covid would change with new variants, they wrote."

Who Is Most At Risk for Long Covid? - The New York Times

Opinion | What the Republican Push for ‘Parents’ Rights’ Is Really About - The New York Times

What the Republican Push for ‘Parents’ Rights’ Is Really About

A disordered pile of books, boxes and other material covers the floor of a rectangular room.
Rob Dobi

"You may have heard the phrase “parents’ rights.”

It sounds unobjectionable — of course parents should have rights — which is probably why it’s become the term of choice for the conservative effort to ban books, censor school curriculums and suppress politically undesirable forms of knowledge.

When House Republicans introduced a bill that would require public schools to notify parents that they are entitled to see course material and lists of books kept in school libraries, they cited “parents’ rights” as the reason.

“That’s what today is all about: It’s about every parent, mom and dad, but most importantly about the students in America,” Speaker Kevin McCarthy said. Several Republican-controlled states have either proposed or passed similar measures.

The official name of Florida’s infamous “Don’t Say Gay” bill, prohibiting “classroom discussion about sexual orientation or gender identity,” is the Parental Rights in Education Act. And the state’s Stop WOKE (short for Wrongs to Our Kids and Employees) Act, which outlaws any school instruction that classifies individuals as “inherently racist, sexist, or oppressive, whether consciously or unconsciously,” was framed, similarly, as a victory for the rights of parents.

“By signing this legislation, which is the first in the nation to end corporate wokeness and Critical Race Theory in our schools, we are prioritizing education, not indoctrination,” Lt. Gov. Jeanette Nuñez said in a statement. “We will always fight to protect our children and parents from this Marxist-inspired curriculum.”

It should be said that this movement for “parents’ rights” in Florida has empowered certain parents to remove books, films, even whole classes that threaten to expose their children to material that might make them uncomfortable. In Pinellas County, for example, a single complaint about the Disney film “Ruby Bridges” — about the 6-year-old girl who integrated an all-white New Orleans school in 1960 — led to its removal from an elementary school.

In his 2021 campaign for the Virginia governor’s mansion, Glenn Youngkin made “parents matter” his slogan, and he has asserted “parents’ rights” in his effort to regulate the treatment of transgender children and end “divisive concepts” such as “critical race theory” in schools. His early moves included new history standards that removed discussions of racism and downplayed the role of slavery in causing the Civil War.

And at this moment, Texas Republicans are debating a bill — backed by Gov. Greg Abbott and Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick — that, according to The Texas Tribune, “would severely restrict classroom lessons, school activities and teacher guidance about sexual orientation and gender identity in all public and charter schools up to 12th grade.” Texas parents, The Tribune notes, already have the right to “remove their child temporarily from a class or activity that conflicts with their beliefs or review all instructional materials.” This bill would further empower parents to object to books, lessons and entire curriculums.

“Parents’ rights,” you will have noticed, never seems to involve parents who want schools to be more open and accommodating toward gender-nonconforming students. It’s never invoked for parents who want their students to learn more about race, identity and the darker parts of American history. And we never hear about the rights of parents who want schools to offer a wide library of books and materials to their children.

“Parents’ rights,” like “states’ rights,” is quite particular. It’s not about all parents and all children and all the rights they might have.

The reality of the “parents’ rights” movement is that it is meant to empower a conservative and reactionary minority of parents to dictate education and curriculums to the rest of the community. It is, in essence, an institutionalization of the heckler’s veto, in which a single parent — or any individual, really — can remove hundreds of books or shut down lessons on the basis of the political discomfort they feel. “Parents’ rights,” in other words, is when some parents have the right to dominate all the others.

And, of course, the point of this movement — the point of creating this state-sanctioned heckler’s veto — is to undermine public education through a thousand little cuts, each meant to weaken public support for teachers and public schools, and to open the floodgates to policies that siphon funds and resources from public institutions and pump them into private ones. The Texas bill I mentioned, for instance, would give taxpayer dollars to parents who chose to opt out of public schools for private schools or even home-schooling.

The culture war that conservatives are currently waging over education is, like the culture wars in other areas of American society, a cover for a more material and ideological agenda. The screaming over “wokeness” and “D.E.I.” is just another Trojan horse for a relentless effort to dismantle a pillar of American democracy that, for all of its flaws, is still one of the country’s most powerful engines for economic and social mobility.

Ultimately, then, the “parents’ rights” movement is not about parents at all; it’s about whether this country will continue to strive for a more equitable and democratic system of education, or whether we’ll let a reactionary minority drag us as far from that goal as possible, in favor of something even more unequal and hierarchical than what we already have."

Opinion | What the Republican Push for ‘Parents’ Rights’ Is Really About - The New York Times

Monday, March 27, 2023

Trump’s legal tsunami just got worse: Why threats, lies, secrecy and ‘de...

Trump Event Pre-Show is TOTAL DISASTER for Republicans

Kamala Harris Looks to Deepen Relations With Africa Amid China’s Influence - The New York Times

In Africa, Kamala Harris Looks to Deepen Relations Amid China’s Influence

"In a weeklong trip to Ghana, Tanzania and Zambia, the vice president will face a balancing act as she tries to foster a collaborative U.S. relationship.

Vice President Kamala Harris after arriving in Accra, Ghana, on Sunday.
Ernest Ankomah/Getty Images

Vice President Kamala Harri‌s ‌has begun a weeklong tour of Ghana and two other African nations as the Biden administration hopes to set a new path for U.S.-Africa ties that focuses on collaboration rather than crises, a trip seen as a significant step toward revitaliz‌‌ing a relationship with Africa that was widely thought to be lagging in recent years.

Ms. Harris, the highest-ranking Biden administration official to visit the continent, will hold an official meeting and news briefing with President Nana Akufo-Addo of Ghana on Monday before traveling to Tanzania and Zambia, where she had visited more than 50 years ago to learn about public service from her grandfather.

Ms. Harris aims to reassure the United States’ African allies that Washington is focused on fostering innovation and economic growth in the region rather than having a singular focus on addressing corruption and violence on the continent, according to senior U.S. officials.

“I’m very excited about the future of Africa,” Ms. Harris said on Sunday, moments after she stepped off Air Force II in Accra, the capital of Ghana, noting that the median age of the continent was 19. She added, “That tells us about the growth of opportunity, of innovation, of possibility — I see in all of that a great opportunity not only for the people of this continent, but the people of the world.”

Francis Kokoroko/Reuters

Ms. Harris will face the challenge of presenting the United States as an ally while fulfilling President Biden’s commitment to take action against foreign governments that advance anti-L.G.B.T.Q. laws and restrict human rights, even as there are fears about attempts to limit similar rights within the United States.

Such restrictions have been on the rise in several African nations, including Ghana, Tanzania and Zambia, and the White House said last week that it would consider economic penalties against Uganda after lawmakers there passed legislation that calls for life in prison for those who engage in gay sex.

“It’s an unenviable dilemma,” Murithi Mutiga, the Africa director for International Crisis Group, said of Ms. Harris’s task. “It’s a tough juggling act.”

Some African leaders have consistently reiterated in recent years that they do not just want lectures on democracy from Western leaders, but also more economic partnership, preferential trade agreements and access to finance at fair rates.

Those voices have only been amplified as the United States has called for greater African support for condemning Russia’s war in Ukraine and reducing the effects of climate change, and has sought access to earth minerals in Africa that are critical to its competition with China.

Historically, the United States has largely engaged with the African continent through “anchor states”: often large or financially powerful nations that play a vital role in regional stability. In contrast, nations like China have had a more expanded engagement with the continent, experts say, establishing consistent, strategic diplomatic and economic partnerships.

Two gay Ugandans who fled to a neighboring country, Kenya, in 2020.Brian Inganga/Associated Press

The fact that the first trip each year by a Chinese foreign minister is always to Africa and that Beijing pays assiduous diplomatic attention to even small African nations have helped to make China a key partner, said Cobus van Staden, managing editor of the China Global South Project, a research organization.

“That connection was built up over years and would be difficult to replicate in the short term,” he said. “It would take ongoing engagement across several U.S. administrations, which can be challenging.”

For U.S. officials, he added, deepening ties would entail meeting African partners where they are and working with them on key priorities.

Some African leaders are already celebrating Ms. Harris’s trip and, in particular, her personal ties to Zambia.

“You know she has certain roots in our beloved country,” Mulambo Haimbe, justice minister in Zambia, said in a video posted online on Saturday. “It shows,” he said, that “they are sister countries that want to shake hands on an economic level.”

Mr. Haimbe was referring to Ms. Harris’s trip to Zambia as a child, when she visited her grandfather P.V. Gopalan. Ms. Harris’s grandfather was deputized by the Zambian government to help manage an influx of refugees from Rhodesia, the former name of Zimbabwe. He also served as an adviser to the first Zambian president, Kenneth Kaunda, according to the U.S. Embassy in Lusaka, the Zambian capital.

“My grandfather would talk to me about the importance of doing the right thing, the just thing,” Ms. Harris wrote in her book “Smart on Crime.”

Ms. Harris has a delicate balancing act in the continent during a consequential period of her vice presidency amid expectations that Mr. Biden will announce his re-election campaign in the coming months. With Republicans expecting to increase scrutiny over the Biden-Harris ticket, Democrats have emphasized the need for Ms. Harris to assert herself as someone prepared to lead the party. Many allies have said she has made the greatest strides on the global stage.

On Monday, after meeting with Mr. Akufo-Addo, she will visit a skate park and recording studio to meet with local artists and entertainers. The next day, she will speak about democratic leadership and her vision for Africa’s future to an audience of young people in Accra before visiting the Cape Coast Castle, the headquarters of Britain’s 18th-century slave trade on Africa’s Gold Coast.

Francis Kokoroko/Reuters

The vice president plans to discuss regional security, debt relief, the war in Ukraine and American concerns over China’s investment in the continent with the leaders of Ghana, Tanzania and Zambia, her aides said.

In Tanzania, she will visit workers from the technology sector, and in Zambia she will focus on climate resilience and food insecurity.

Ms. Harris is also expected to make several announcements on American public- and private-sector commitments to invest in Africa, a continent that is rich in the resources needed to address climate change and the rare earth minerals used to power electric vehicles.

While Ms. Harris would emphasize that the United States’ relationship with Africa cannot be defined by Washington’s competition with China, her aides said, they also acknowledged concern over ceding more ground to Beijing, which has greatly expanded its influence on the continent even as Russia, Turkey and the United Arab Emirates have also jockeyed for influence.

The countries the vice president is visiting count China among their top or second-top trading partner, far ahead of the United States.

In 2019, Ghana’s government agreed to allow China to dig for bauxite ore in exchange for multibillion-dollar infrastructural investments that included building highways. In a sign of China’s presence in the country, as Ms. Harris’s motorcade passed a traffic circle in Accra on Sunday where officials had placed posters showing her and Mr. Akufo-Addo, a People’s Republic of China placard signaling Beijing’s funding of the rotary’s construction was visible directly behind one poster.

Ernest Ankomah/Getty Images

In November, President Samia Suluhu of Tanzania met with China’s top leader, Xi Jinping, in Beijing, where they signed multiple economic and infrastructural agreements including one giving Chinese markets more access to Tanzanian agricultural products. Tanzania also signed a $2.2 billion railway deal with China in December.

In Zambia, China has faced growing criticism for being the country’s biggest creditor and saddling the country with more debt than it can repay — an allegation that Beijing has pushed back against. And President Hakainde Hichilema of Zambia has promised to build on “a special relationship” with China.

Since Mr. Biden hosted a summit for African nations in Washington in December, various officials have flocked to the continent, including Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken; the first lady, Jill Biden; the United Nations ambassador, Linda Thomas-Greenfield; and Treasury Secretary Janet L. Yellen, who said from Zambia that China was a “barrier” to ending the southern African nation’s debt crisis.

But for Ms. Harris, the first woman of color to serve as U.S. vice president, the trip provides an opportunity to deliver a unique message, said Elizabeth Shackelford, a former U.S. diplomat to Africa who is now a senior fellow at the Chicago Council on Global Affairs, a research organization.

“She comes out there as a strong woman who has worked her way up through the system, who is a minority who has risen to the highest echelons of power,” Ms. Shackelford said. “It will be inspiring to many women and girls who see her out there in that role.”

Zolan Kanno-Youngs reported from Accra, Ghana, and Abdi Latif Dahir from Nairobi, Kenya. Collins Sampa contributed reporting from Lusaka, Zambia."


Kamala Harris Looks to Deepen Relations With Africa Amid China’s Influence - The New York Times

How Big Law and Black Brooklyn Fueled Hakeem Jeffries’s Rise - The New York Times

The Dual Education of Hakeem Jeffries

"Shaped by Black Brooklyn and trained by Manhattan’s legal elite, the House Democrats’ new leader is not easily pigeonholed.

Mr. Jeffries, with his hands clasped on his lap, is seated in front of four American flags, looking off to the side.
Representative Hakeem Jeffries is the first person of color to lead a party in Congress.Doug Mills/The New York Times

The campus at Binghamton University was in uproar. Whispers of outside agitators swirled among the mostly white student body. Security was heightened.

The source of the friction was the planned appearance of a polarizing Black studies professor who had referred to white people as “ice people” and accused “rich Jews” of financing the slave trade. Outraged Jewish students demanded the event be canceled; their Black peers were incensed over the potential censorship.

And wedged hard in the middle was Hakeem Jeffries.

As the political representative for the Black student group that invited the professor to the upstate New York campus, Mr. Jeffries, a 21-year-old college senior with a flattop and a dashiki, had the delicate task of cooling tensions while holding firm on the invitation. There was also another complication: The speaker, Dr. Leonard Jeffries, was his uncle.

The episode, in February 1992, was an early precursor of both the culture-war disputes now flashing across the country and the battles that Mr. Jeffries faces as the new leader of House Democrats. Republicans have begun resurfacing it to try to tie their new foil to his uncle’s more incendiary views, which he says he does not share.

But the Binghamton events also show that even at a young age, Mr. Jeffries had a flair for oratory, a taste for a good argument and an unusual knack for navigating conflict without inflaming it.

“The proper way to debate scholarship is with scholarship,” Mr. Jeffries told reporters at the time. “Not with high-tech lynchings, media assassinations, character desecrations and venomous attacks.”

The speech went ahead. It was still full of invective but was delivered and received peacefully.

Mr. Jeffries, then a student at Binghamton University, is seated beside two other members of the Black Student Union. He is wearing a dashiki, a colorful shirt with African roots.
Mr. Jeffries, right, at a 1992 news conference held by the Black Student Union of Binghamton University.Peter Tawadros/Binghamton University Pipe Dream

Three decades later, accounts of Mr. Jeffries’s history-making ascent have largely focused on his relative youth and his time as a House impeachment manager. But to fully understand how he claimed power and might wield it as the first person of color to lead a party in Congress, it is instructive to retrace the divergent experiences that fueled his rise from Brooklyn to Washington, as described in dozens of interviews with friends, allies and adversaries.

Call it the dual education of Hakeem Jeffries, a charismatic and enigmatic son of both Brooklyn and Big Law, who was shaped as much by hip-hop and the Black Baptist church as by the offices of corporate America where he handled high-stakes litigation.

He struggled to break into politics as an insurgent in one of the country’s most diverse political arenas. But once in the State Legislature, he quickly showed mastery of Albany, pushing through landmark criminal justice bills while holding down a lucrative part-time role at a personal injury law firm.

Asked in an interview in his spacious new Capitol office to describe his political brand, Mr. Jeffries, 52, replied, “Reasonable, common-sense, tough, get-stuff-done Democrat.” He said his upbringing and career choices formed the foundation for his center-left political identity, heightened sensitivity to racial and pocketbook issues and exceedingly deliberative approach.

“The Brooklyn identity is you’ve got to make uneven, unequal pieces fit in the puzzle: the Latino, the Orthodox Jewish, the Black, the Caribbean,” said the Rev. Al Sharpton. “Very few cities have that kind of makeup. No one has mastered it better than Hakeem.”

His critics, particularly on his party’s left flank, take a harsher view: They argue that Mr. Jeffries’s consensus-building style and long ties to Wall Street donors have made him too deferential to a power structure stacked against confronting climate change and the widening wealth gap.

“Hakeem Jeffries represents an old style of politics rooted in back-room deals and corporate donors,” said Jabari Brisport, a democratic socialist who was elected in 2020 to represent Mr. Jeffries’s longtime Brooklyn political base in the State Senate. “He has to choose who he is going to side with.”

Republicans say just the opposite, that Mr. Jeffries is too radical and so inexperienced he needs “training wheels.”

For now, he has managed to win plaudits within his own party and the grudging respect of some Republicans. But the real tests lie ahead as he tries to fend off Republican attempts to undo his party’s policies and unite his fractious caucus to win back the House.

A child of Black Brooklyn

The patriarch of the Jeffries family, Marland Jeffries, upper left, expected his children, Hakeem, left, and Hasan, right, to learn their history as young men of African descent.via Hakeem Jeffries

Mr. Jeffries came of age in the 1970s and ’80s, when central Brooklyn was becoming one of the most important Black urban centers in the country. This was the area that sent the first Black woman, Shirley Chisholm, to Congress just before Mr. Jeffries was born: a dense hotbed for experiments in Black empowerment and education; a cradle for hip-hop culture and political power; and eventually a center of the drug trade.

“Some of the neighborhoods that people now can’t afford to live in were the same places where on occasion you might step over a crack vial,” said Lenny Singletary, a friend since childhood. “It was a time when family was important, and the old adage was true: It took a village to raise a child.”

The Jeffries family stood out. His parents each had union jobs that helped pay the mortgage on a modest brownstone in the borough’s Crown Heights section.

Mr. Jeffries’s mother, Laneda Jeffries, a social worker, traced her roots to Cape Verde, the islands off the west coast of Africa colonized by the Portuguese. His paternal grandparents moved north during the Great Migration, carrying stories of slavery and lynchings.

His father, Marland Jeffries, was a substance abuse counselor who once ran an unsuccessful campaign for State Assembly on a civil rights slate. He and his wife named their elder son Hakeem Sekou, which connotes wisdom in Arabic and West African traditions. “Whatever you’re going to be, you’re going to be beyond a master’s degree,” Marland Jeffries once said. (Hasan Jeffries, Hakeem’s only sibling, is a historian at Ohio State University.)

Marland Jeffries shared that emphasis with his brother, Leonard, who led the Black Studies Department at City College of New York. Professor Jeffries’s scholarship pushed the history of Africa and its diaspora toward the center of European-dominated narratives.

But in the early 1990s, his work began to attract intense backlash among white academics and political figures. They denounced a 1991 speech that said, “Russian Jewry had a particular control over the movies, and their financial partners, the Mafia, put together a system for the destruction of Black people.” Dr. Jeffries, who could not be reached for comment, lost his position as department chair, and the subsequent legal fight over free speech was covered closely in city newspapers.

Professor Leonard Jeffries drew backlash for his Afrocentric views and comments that many Jewish leaders argued were antisemitic.Mark Peterson/Corbis, via Getty Images

Mr. Jeffries, who has long had support in Brooklyn Orthodox Jewish communities, has distanced himself from his uncle’s views and, at times, sought to minimizewhat he knew about the controversy in the 1990s — despite his role defending Dr. Jeffries at Binghamton. Still, his family clearly influenced his worldview.

“Black progressives do tend to tackle issues first and foremost with an understanding that systemic racism has been in the soil of America for over 400 years,” the congressman told The Atlantic in 2021. “Hard-left progressives tend to view the defining problem in America as one that is anchored in class. That is not my experience.”

By the mid-1980s, with the drug trade metastasizing, school and church became a refuge for young Hakeem Jeffries. In 1984, a porch two doors down from his home was peppered with gunshots during a block party. Childhood friends started selling drugs; some went to prison.

At Brooklyn’s diverse Midwood High School, he excelled in the honors program, obsessed over music, played baseball and wrote in the yearbook that he hoped to be a lawyer.

Wilkie Cornelius, another friend, remembered that Mr. Jeffries raised his hand in class “like a machine.” He also recalled Mr. Jeffries pouring himself into a one-on-one rap battle outside of school. “His style was laid back and complex for the time,” he said.

The Jeffries family attended Cornerstone Baptist Church in Bedford-Stuyvesant, where Mr. Jeffries donned white gloves each Sunday as an usher. As a hub of the Black community, it also provided some of his earliest political education.

Mr. Jeffries listened to sermons by Dr. Sandy F. Ray, a close confidant of Martin Luther King Jr., and heard visiting politicians. The pastor at Cornerstone, the Rev. Harry S. Wright, was the brother of Marian Wright Edelman, founder of the Children’s Defense Fund. Friends say he influenced the future congressman’s speaking style with heavy use of repetition, alliteration and demonstrative hand movement.

“Hakeem’s an interesting study,” said the Rev. Lawrence Aker III, Cornerstone’s current pastor. “He’s well educated and well schooled, but this guy can still spit the lyrics of Biggie Smalls or any urban rapper coming out of the ’80s or ’90s. He understands what I would call a hybrid model.”

Honing his pedigree

Mr. Jeffries graduated in 1992 from Binghamton University in upstate New York, part of the state university system.Benjamin Cleeton for The New York Times

Mr. Jeffries’s first deep immersion in the world outside Brooklyn came in 1988, when he made the four-hour drive to Binghamton in New York’s Southern Tier. The culture shock was unavoidable.

“There was racism. You’d walk around in the town and someone could say something to you freely that you didn't ask for,” said Marcia Rowe-Riddick, a friend.

Mr. Jeffries acclimated quickly. He roomed with Victor Williams, an actor later known for his role as Deacon Palmer on “The King of Queens,” and met his future wife, Kennisandra Arciniegas. He was elected president of Kappa Alpha Psi, the historically Black fraternity, and excelled in the highly choreographed dance routines known as step shows.

He was also becoming politically active. His senior year, he was elected the political representative for the Black Student Union, the position that put him in the middle of his uncle’s visit to campus. But while fellow student activists sometimes risked arrest, Mr. Jeffries had a different perspective.

“He basically took the intellectual approach to everything,” said Carlos A. Pimentel, the president of the Black Student Union.

Years later, as a lawyer and lawmaker, Mr. Jeffries adopted the same approach when privately counseling activists like Mr. Sharpton on cases involving police violence. 

“‘I’m not the guy who’s going to go to jail with you,’” Mr. Sharpton recalled his saying. “‘I’m the guy who’s going to get you out of jail.’”

By the time he reached law school, Mr. Jeffries was speaking openly of his own ambitions. He had earned a public policy degree at Georgetown and was developing a network of like-minded young Black men, including Adrian Fenty, the future mayor of Washington, and Patrick Gaspard, later the White House political director. When he was selected as the only student speaker on graduation day, even the dean predicted he would end up in Congress one day.

“You just kind of know when someone is operating at a different speed,” Mr. Fenty said.

After a clerkship for Judge Harold Baer Jr. in the Southern District of New York, he chose not to go directly into politics or public service, but to take a job at Paul, Weiss, the sort of law firm that could confer legal and business prestige.

Mr. Jeffries helped settle an intellectual property case involving Lauryn Hill and her acclaimed album, “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.” He later served as litigation counsel for Viacom and CBS, where he defended the company after Justin Timberlake briefly exposed Janet Jackson’s breast during the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show.

His legal career had another important benefit: forging a political alliance with Theodore V. Wells Jr., a nationally known and politically connected defense lawyer. While Mr. Wells said he “spent a lot of time begging” Mr. Jeffries to become a partner, he threw himself fully into Mr. Jeffries’s first campaign.

The Barack of Brooklyn

Mr. Jeffries, in 2002, during an unsuccessful campaign against an incumbent assemblyman, Roger L. Green. He would take Mr. Green’s seat in 2006.Angel Franco/The New York Times

As a party leader, Mr. Jeffries has bristled as the Democrats’ activist left has challenged incumbents, many of them older Black lawmakers. But as a 29-year-old insurgent, that is exactly how he chose to make his entrance.

The 2000 race against Roger L. Green, a long-tenured state assemblyman, was more generational than ideological. It was also contentious, reflecting Mr. Jeffries’s eagerness to propel himself into Brooklyn’s fractious political scene and his early fund-raising skills.

Hustling around subway stops and parks, he cast his opponent as ineffective and calcified. After he made a comment during a televised debate highlighting Mr. Green’s Muslim faith, the incumbent accused him of stoking religious tension and stormed out.

Mr. Green won, but Mr. Jeffries made an impression. Soon, new legislative lines cut Mr. Jeffries out of the district, a political “move that was gangster,” he said in a 2010 documentary about gerrymandering.

A 2002 rematch was even uglier, with Mr. Jeffries accused of sending misleading mailers. He lost again.

But a broader changing of the guard was underway. Across central Brooklyn, a new generation of young Black political leaders with advanced degrees was demanding the baton of power from officials who, in many cases, had been the first African Americans to hold office. Among the newcomers were Letitia James, who is now New York’s attorney general, and Eric Adams, now the mayor.

In 2006, Mr. Jeffries finally found a path to join them when Mr. Green abandoned the seat. Once an outsider, Mr. Jeffries quickly became close with the borough’s Democratic machine and, some believed, too friendly to the interests of developers and charter schools often backed by the city’s wealthy.

Mr. Jeffries, in 2006, captured the Brooklyn assembly seat after Mr. Green retired amid a minor corruption scandal.Robert Stolarik for The New York Times

When Forest City Ratner proposed a multibillion-dollar redevelopment in Mr. Jeffries’s backyard — including an arena that is now home to the Brooklyn Nets — some of his neighbors were flummoxed by his position. Ms. James forcefully opposed the project, known as Atlantic Yards; Mr. Green supported it. Mr. Jeffries straddled the divide, saying he was against the use of eminent domain to seize land for the development and some design decisions, but not the project as a whole.

“I spent six hours at two meetings with him,” Daniel Goldstein, an opponent of the project, told The New York Times in 2006. “After six hours, it was unclear to us where he stood.”

Allies saw early signs of something else, though — an ability to balance competing and sometimes outright hostile interests to forge alliances. Supporters and local newspapers began using a moniker to liken him to another young Black politician born on the same day: the “Barack of Brooklyn.” 

Mastering the inside game

In the Assembly, Mr. Jeffries teamed up with Eric Adams, now the New York City mayor, to stop the Police Department from maintaining electronic records of people stopped by the police but never charged.Nathaniel Brooks for The New York Times

In Albany, Mr. Jeffries played a deft inside game. He courted party leaders but was most closely identified with a generation of downstate Black and Latino lawmakers who pushed the Legislature to correct what they saw as grievous inequities in the criminal justice system.

He also continued to work in private practice, taking a lucrative part-time position at a personal injury law firm that ultimately earned him more than $1.6 million in contingency fees.

In a burst of activity in 2009 and 2010, the lawmakers helped repeal the state’s strict 1970s-era drug laws; ended the practice of counting inmates as “residents” of rural counties to increase those counties’ political clout; and barred the Police Department from maintaining an electronic database including personal information of more than a million people it had stopped, frisked and questioned but never charged.

The last of the three “catapulted him into a position as a leader and spokesperson for racial equality and fair policing,” said Donna Lieberman, the executive director of the New York Civil Liberties Union, which worked closely on the bill. It also foretold his intense focus on criminal justice policy in Congress, where he helped write a Trump-era overhaul of federal sentencing and prison laws.

Teaming up with Mr. Adams, then a state senator, Mr. Jeffries argued that the database infringed on the civil liberties of the mostly Black and brown men it cataloged. But he used the issue to force a larger debate on stop and frisk, a program that had broad political support but that Mr. Jeffries believed had ballooned out of control — putting him at odds with Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg.

“That was probably the most consequential moment for me legislatively — to show that I could show up and not just speak about the problem, but solve the problem,” Mr. Jeffries said.

In 2011, he decided to once again take on a political elder, this time for a seat in Congress. Edolphus Towns was a powerful 30-year incumbent, but he was aging and increasingly out of step.

This time there would be no heavyweight race. Mr. Towns bowed out before the primary, reinforcing lessons Mr. Jeffries had learned years earlier. In the primary, he defeated Charles Barron, a New York City councilman and former Black Panther who has argued for years that Mr. Jeffries is too averse to butting heads with the powerful.

“He plays it safe,” he said.

Mr. Jeffries’s profile rose after he arrived in Washington. Black leaders tried to draft him to run for mayor; others tried for state attorney general. But he had little trouble saying no.

“Lawmaking,” Mr. Jeffries said in the interview, “was always more interesting to me.”

Mr. Jeffries took over from Nancy Pelosi as House minority leader.Kenny Holston/The New York Times

Alain Delaquérière contributed research."

How Big Law and Black Brooklyn Fueled Hakeem Jeffries’s Rise - The New York Times