 Amazing. So hello to everyone in this room, and hello to everyone tuning in on HowlRoundTV. I want to start by giving some thanks to some wonderful partners of ours. Thank you to Pro Bono ASL for providing ASL interpreters, Gregory Nieto and Tim Mills, and thanks as well to the National Captioning Institute for providing our wonderful team of live caption writers. We're really excited to have you with us. So I'm going to start by giving a brief self-introduction. So I'm Ronnie Pinoy, she, hers. I am Laguna Pueblo and Cherokee, and I am in a very flowery and bird-covered purple long dress with shoulder-length brown hair, light-skinned face with freckles. So that's me. So this event is part of the Black and Indigenous Futures Convening, which brings together artist, scholars, educators, and practitioners to unearth history, examine fault lines, and imagine new and different futures for Black and Indigenous people. This gathering, produced by Arts Emerson in partnership with HowlRound Theater Commons, is one piece of a larger Arts Emerson initiative that seeks to activate a more liberated future in Boston through the shared experience of art and public dialogue. This convening is supported by the Bar Foundation, the Mellon Foundation, and the National Endowment for the Arts. So shout out and thanks to those partners. So this wonderful conversation with the wonderful humans to my rights will explore foundations of Black and Indigenous relationships, co-leadership, solidarity, shared understanding, and movement building. I'm so pleased to be joined today by Scott Alvis Barton, Elizabeth James Perry, and Kyle T. Mays. So I'm going to quickly run through their phenomenal bio so you have a sense of who they are. But I'm going to move quickly so we have plenty of time for a rich conversation. So Scott, immediately to my right, is a cultural anthropologist of African diaspora foodways at University of Notre Dame. And he previously was an executive chef for over 25 years. Scott's research focuses on diasporic women's work and knowledge, intergenerational teaching, learning, cultural heritage, and political resistance in Northeastern Brazil. Scott is a public scholar at Linden Sculpture Garden. He serves as co-chair of the African diaspora religions unit in the American Academy of Religion, is a trustee of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery, a board member of the Association for the Study of Food and Society, and the Society for the Anthropology of Food and Nutrition, and an advisory board member to Indigo Arts Alliance, our dear friends. So his forthcoming manuscript, Reckoning with Violence and Black Death, follows his exhibition on anti-Black violence, funerary foods, and ancestrality, buried in the heart. Elizabeth James Perry, who is farthest to my right, practices Wampum jewelry design and restorative gardening in her Aquino Wampanoag Tribal homelands in Massachusetts. She teaches arts and responsible land stewardship to stay grounded and to benefit the next seven generations. And Kyle, in the middle, is an Afro-indigenous, Saginaw Chippewa scholar of urban studies, Afro-indigenous studies, and contemporary popular culture. He is the author of three books, including City of Dispossessions, Indigenous Peoples, African-Americans, and the Creation of Modern Detroit, and an Afro-indigenous history of the United States. OK, wonderful panel. Yeah, I guess please applaud for them. So I'm going to pass the proverbial mic over to Scott to begin with a few words. Thank you, Scott. Good morning. Can you hear me? So I'm going to read something I wrote to help me focus. And this first part is from I heard on NPR this morning around 5.30. The fall of the 16th century Aztec's great floating metropolis, Tetonichelin, which at that time was much more populous than London or Rome, is incorrectly based on the great illusion that the Europeans were more cosmopolitan and culpably advanced than the Aztecs. On the lesson until we read Nahuatl archives, we are bound by Chinoachebe's adage until the lions have their own historians. The history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter." Tulane art historian Barbara Mundi's Nahuatl archival research shows that Cortez soldiers were outnumbered by the Aztecs 20 to 1. The city did fall after 93 days of fighting, but also in large part to communicative diseases, a byproduct of the Columbian exchange. Yet the city's value caused Cortez to rebuild it through an alliance with Aztec elites as a mestiza metropolis, not a Spanish city, that lasted for a decade contrary to the historical record. This leads me to an iconic Ghanaian admonition from the Akhan language, represented by the ideogram Weerefi na wo san kofa a yeke, literally translated, it means it is not taboo to go back and fetch what you forgot, or san kofa. Knowing where you have been before you decide how to move forward. And I quote, oppressive language does more than appreciate violence, it is violence, does more than represent limits of knowledge, it limits knowledge. End quote Toni Morrison in her Nobel Prize lecture. June 1783, the citizens of America placed in the most enviable condition as the sole lords and proprietors of a vast tract of continent, comprehending all the various soils and climates of the world, and abounding with all the necessaries and conveniences of life are now by the late satisfactory pacification acknowledged to be possessed of absolute freedom and independency. They are from this period to be considered as the actors on the most conspicuous theater, which seems to be peculiarly designed by providence for the display of human greatness and felicity, end quote. Future president, slave holder, George Washington. Anishabi cultural theorist, Gerald Visner, I'm almost done, defined survival in his 1999 book, Manifest Manors, Narratives on Post-Indian Survivalence, as survival is an active sense of presence, the continuance of native stories, not a mere reaction or a survivable name. Narrative survival stories are renunciations of dominance, tragedy, and victimry. It is a mandate for those who have been defined as subaltern to strive beyond merely subsisting in the ruins of traditional or tribal cultures to actively inheriting and refashioning those cultures for the post-modern age. In part enslaved Africans have been shown to be keen observers of the hegemon and as such can be also people who participate in survivance. Cherokee descendant, Diane Clancy, that constructs the imprecise compound word, survivance as sur, a survival, outside survival, vivants the vitality of it. In Detroit's King Solomon Baptist Church, April 12th, 1964, I quote, if you black you'd be born in jail in the north as well as the south. Stop talking about the south. As long as you south of the Canadian border, you south. So we're trapped, trapped, double-trapped, triple-trapped. Any way we go, we find that we're trapped and every kind of solution that someone comes up with is just another strap. Ballots to bullets, Malcolm X. The debatability of the past operates in all society, Arjuna Padurai. And finally, I thought about power agency and the chronology of silences that's taken from silencing the past by Michelle Roll-Trio, the Haitian scholar. Human beings participate in history, both as actors and narrators. Vernacularly, history is both the facts of the matter and the narrative of those facts. What happened? And that which is said to have happened, a sociological historical process and our knowledge of that process or on a story about that process, historical narratives are indelibly bound to grabbing and maintaining power, tracking power through various moments simply helps empathize the fundamentally processural character of historical production to insist that what history is matters less than how history works, that power itself works together with history. Here, Foucault's warning helps. And I don't believe that the question of who exercised power can be resolved until the other question, how does it happen, is resolved at that same time. Both Africana Studies and Indigenous Studies were initiated by multicultural and multiracial groups of students and teachers' demands for historical correctives and inclusionary curricula. I wish to live in that place of resilience, solidarity and survivance rather than in victimatology. We both honor ancestral co-presences in our lives, we have reverence for matriarchality, albeit at times with patriarchal and misogynist overtones. Again, a question of power. Foodways and intergenerational and skilled learning epitomized by our shared respect for corn mother, tobacco, beans, fetishes, ritual baths, sacred ingredients, land stewardship, nature's materiality in cowries and wampum, somatic performative expressive cultures in sacred and profane realms are seen in spiritual life worlds and in a depth to something as quotidian, as rock and roll, owes to First Nations cultures as seen in Catherine Brainbridge's documentary Rumble, The Indians Who Rocked the World, which if you haven't seen, you should see it. Lisa Cortez is Lil Richard, I Am Everything, and Dan Lindsey's Tina and Tina Turner. Thank you. Yeah, I wanna take a minute to just have that sink in. Thank you, Scott. What I appreciate about what you offered is that all of us entering in this space today are coming in with a different lens, a different way in, a different history, and gaps in that knowledge and perspective in terms of the history of violence, solidarity, kinship, possibility between black and indigenous people. And there are, and all of us that are alive today sit on the shoulders of those who came before and have been asking these questions who have been living in kinship, who have been struggling with the trauma, both from a shared oppressor and also from violence has enacted on one another. So I wanna just start by saying thank you, Scott, for offering us the constellation of views, of knowledge, of wisdom that is such a foundation of the conversation we're looking to have over the next two days. So we wanted to start with the past, not because black and indigenous people are of the past, but because in order to know where we are going, we first need to understand and hold the narrative of where we are. Thomas King, one of my favorite writers, writes in his book, The Truth About Stories, that stories are dangerous. They are a matter of life and death and they tell us who we are. So in this moment, I'm honored to have Scott, Kyle, and Elizabeth with us to give us some of the grounding for conversation that is gonna be happening in this room over the next two days. And Kyle, I'm gonna start with you. So in your book, An Afro-Indigenous History of the United States, you argue that the foundations of the United States are rooted in anti-blackness and settler colonialism and that black and indigenous people have always fought for and struggled for freedom sometimes separately and sometimes apart. So I'm hoping that you could ground us in a few examples and also share a bit of your why for why black and indigenous solidarity matters to the world at large. So thanks for the question and for the initial thoughts. How y'all doing today? Y'all good? I'm really tired, I'm not gonna lie. I'm missing my, I'm pretty sure I left my chapstick at the hotel, so I'm struggling or thinking about that right now. Trying to be present and dealing with the questions, which are important, but a little tired, but y'all bear with me. So let's see. First of all, I wanna say I have like three of my favorite intellectuals and thinkers in the room, Stormy Weber here, Tiffany Letavo King, Amber Starks. So I'm super happy to be in a room with all of these and you all as well, but there's some of my favorite thinkers there. But so before giving history examples and I'll be very brief, a question I've been grappling with for the last couple of years, especially after writing an Afro-Indigenous history is really sitting with the question, why should black and indigenous peoples be in solidarity? Right, like of course I actually believe in all this and I'm assuming most of you all believe in this too, right, y'all with me there? Right, but the question, and I think many of us in a variety of our communities, whether dealing with anti-blackness, indigenous erasure and so forth and the conflict, the real conflicts that have happened historically and even in very contemporary manner too, in our everyday lives and our families as well, right? So again, why should we be in solidarity? And I wanna sit with that question and really think deeply and long about that particular question. Again, it's something I believe in, I'm assuming most of you all believe in that too, but often we might jump the gun and just say, yeah, we should be in solidarity. And y'all remember when the great Issa Rae said at one of the awards show that I'm rooting for everyone black? I am not rooting for everyone black, nor am I rooting for everyone indigenous. Y'all with me there? Yeah, that ain't happening, we ain't doing that, right? And so it's really about being in community, not that you have to agree on every small detail, but like-minded people and really thinking about our particular shared features together. Because, and hopefully, of course, waste of primacy and settler colonialism, it'd be great if they died off today, right? Tomorrow, whenever. But we still have contradictions to work out regardless of, and as we know from history, any post-colonial nation, you figure out one contradiction, you're still figuring out all the other contradictions, socially, politically, and economically. So, a few brief examples. One of my favorite examples is always Kwame Turei or Stokely Carmichael. And he was one of the few people in the 1960s well up into his death in 1998, who was adamant that this was indigenous people's land here, right? Now, he had other notions and ideas of land elsewhere, but he was very adamant about this. And that wasn't to say that black people don't belong here, right? But he was like, we have to be in good relations with these people that, you know, although our answers were stolen from their own indigenous homeland, you still have responsibility to be in good relations. With that, though, I think there's a responsibility, and I was always struck by Leigh Ann Simpson in the aftermath of Ferguson in an essay she wrote that indigenous peoples also have responsibility to amplify black voices and make room for black people on indigenous land. And so that is a question for me. What are indigenous nations and exercising sovereignty doing to be in good relations with black people? Like, there are different examples in a very local space as well, but when we talk about sovereignty, which frankly, I mean, if people don't want to hear, it can be in some ways a neoliberal project, right? I'm thinking of Glenn Coulthard's work rejecting the colonial politics of recognition here. And so how can indigenous sovereignty go to reclaim and connect with like people, also other people of color and being good relations? And I think there are examples of that, but we have a lot of work to do to try to make something like that happen in a very practical and real way that's culturally sensitive, where we can have conversations, think historically. And Amber and I have talked about this, both in the conversation we had recently, but just in general, right? Sit down, have some food, some seasoned food, right? Hey, you can't have no blend. Even if it's some tofu, you can season the tofu up, it's all good, right? Have, share music, think and talk. And sometimes it doesn't always have to be something very formal either, right? Just being community gatherings and finding ways to connect. And finally, one thing I've been thinking about as well is the meaning of land and black people and belonging. There's this sort of, well, there are many things. So there are folks who believe in Adas. What is it? African descendants of slavery. So I'm gonna probably get slandered at some point, which is fine. Who are, to me, anyways, are also foundational black Americans. I still don't know exactly what that means. But these are real things that exist, and we don't talk about them enough. We just act like it's a fringe thing, but I don't have any evidence of this, but I'd imagine it's not very fringe. Like there's a New York Times article about this, I think in the fall of 2019, people seeking reparations. And I'm not opposed to reparations per se, right? But one, do we want reparations under capitalism? Two, where does land fit into that? And a great example of this is the Agua Caliente Band of Kahia Mission Indians in Palm Springs. And so they had tribal members living there. He also had black and Mexican folks living there as well. And they were removed. Now, the tribe has said nothing about this officially, but I'm a historian, so I went through all the boring congressional records and testimonies from 1953 to 1966. And the Tribal Council, it seems to me, actually wanted those people removed because they wanted it developed. And so those descendants are suing the city of Palm Springs for $2 billion. But I'm like the tribal council at the time, one of the land developed and may have actively, even though they got wrong in the process, may have participated. And I'm just reading the historical records. So this is a great example of contradictions that have to be worked out in the contemporary. And I'll stop there, thank you. I appreciate what you offer about the black and indigenous folks in specific examples. None of it is a monolith, individual tribal nations, tribal councils, individuals, various black notions of futureities. What does reparations look like? What is the path to land back? They're not always commensurate visions of the future and they haven't been, folks haven't been on the same page in the past either. So I appreciate that example. I'm also interested in the ways that, I know Kyle, you come at this from a historian's perspective, there's also ways in which beyond what is in the, or I should say a big part of history is also what's not in the written record. And there's so much, whether it is oral history or culture, that is a big part of us understanding our past and the way it shows up in our present, whether it's food, whether it's jewelry making, whether it's language reclamation, right? So I'm curious, Elizabeth, if you can speak to a little bit of the where we've been through your lens as an artist. Wow, I was about to be off the hook for answering. Just joking. Yeah, thank you for asking me. So I think my lens is a little bit complex. I'm an artist, I'm a marine scientist, I'm a long-time resident, lifelong resident, what am I thinking, here in the Northeast. And I come from a particular linguistic, cultural, philosophical family. So yeah, so there's difficulty in monolithic examples, just Indian, just black, nationwide, North America-wide, Western Hemisphere-wide, is there's distinctions in philosophy of life and what's acceptable and what's not. And norms towards violence, even, that get handed down today. So some things that are not okay for larger, Algonquian, linguistic, cultural, philosophical folks might be okay or entertainable in a different area, et cetera, et cetera. And then you have all the intricate stories of rugged things that happened in different parts of the country at different times, sometimes beginning very early. And I think that the complexity, we're framing this in a historical way, both longer term historical, when you spoke of the Aztecs, which thank you very much, and also more recently, when you spoke of California, which I appreciate as well. The stresses that we face, and I think as someone who's identified very strongly as Native American, I'll use the we for Native people. There's also strong connections in my family and my lineage with African American as well, both directly and through marriage and community. Those stresses didn't just happen, as you all know, in the 17th century or in the 20th century, they happen every day. It's ongoing. There's never been, as far as I can tell, and I've looked, I'm an optimist, I used to be an optimist. There aren't breathers often, or they're so brief, you could miss it so easily. So I think if we think of ourselves as human beings, and we think of human beings as all having dignity and a right to life and a right to safety, and that resources are not for hoarding, they're for sharing, and I think I can't help as a Native person, probably as a Native woman in the Northeast. We have a strong responsibility to the land and to resources and to thinking not only of the community now, but also of our descendants and what kind of legacies we're leaving to them and how to make that wholesome, or as wholesome as we can manage. I can't help but frame it within this longer, very, very long period of climate change that's also causing a really high degree of stress, I feel, in everybody nowadays. There's gonna be frictions as folks try to work together or even as there's divisive things that come up that separate people, but I think taking the long view, I think our ancestors were so brilliant in having that wonderful oral histories short up from stories that just get handed down and handed down, not strictly for entertainment, but there's a lot of knowledge. There's knowledge about how people behave. There's knowledge about, yes, times can get really stressful. Here's what you do so you don't act out against others or you don't harm yourself. Here's what we're gonna build for you. We're gonna make this beautiful community and teach you how to get it running and thriving and happy and rich, and the richness might not be the kind that we think of when we hear the word rich nowadays, right? Or up till now, perhaps I'll say, I think there's a lot more tolerance for alternatives and those alternatives aren't necessarily new. Some of them are so old and they've continued because they work. So I think it's getting back to our respective values, giving people time and space, understanding that stress and conflict are actually finite. Nothing goes on forever, although I began this by saying, we've had stress all this time. It's still kind of in terms of the earth's time and the universe's time, it's still just a moment. And I think we all, I believe in agency, both at the bigger official political governmental level, but I think also at the individual level, agency is so important. And I think showing that agency, taking the initiative, keeping open minds, being respectful, those are so needed. I just feel like the new generation's coming up, they're just gonna need so much from us. I don't think we can waste any time. That's just not what I feel like now. And I feel like also I'm not sure that that's new either. I think our ancestors were very forward-looking and I think they were so careful in kind of laying breadcrumbs for us and making sure certain things got protected or making sure we knew this is why the land's important. It's not, we're not just gonna say that to sound poetic because we're Indians. It can sound like that sometimes, which is lovely, but there's real reasons why people express the affection for place that they do or that they have. And I think hearing those again and again from our various cultures, it just resonates and it has so much to offer us for how to take care of the land, how to take care of ourselves. I think as a native person, I don't really see a separation. So the discussion is gonna be framed a little bit different coming from, I think Wampanoag people or indigenous people strictly depending on if it's a very sort of culturally oriented discussion and if people have the agency and the freedom to be able to speak clearly and freely, which doesn't always translate. I think that anything's possible and in looking at the history here in the Northeast, I can't speak for the country because I don't know. I just don't think that our ancestors here believed in slavery. I don't think they had a concept of hoarding. You hoard and what are you gonna do? Spend your time building a house that's four times the size that you need and it's New England. So then you spend all your time cutting down the trees to heat the house so you can keep your hoarded. What is that? I mean I think your community would say okay, I'm gonna have an intervention here because this is crazy and this is a terrible example and it's not sustainable so you gotta stop now. I think there's always times that you can ground yourself and I think regardless of, it's easy to think because there's been so much disruption and displacement and folks have been moved and places have been developed. It's easy to get really abstract in thinking, well this is a good area, this is a bad area. This one has been ruined, this is perfect. Suburbs are great. Gag. I can barely tolerate the suburbs, I'm sorry. Yeah, it's gross. It's all the earth, it's right there, regardless of our backgrounds. She's right here, she's taking care of me this morning as I wandered the city without a clue. And I just think sometimes those principles are really good to remember, to ground us before we come together to discuss the past, the present, where we're going in the future because we're blessed with some of these constants and I think we can embody some of those things too and therefore instead of treating conflict as a perpetual inevitability, I think our common humanity, I think is the way to go personally. And I'd probably go our time. No, no, no, thank you Elizabeth. Scott, I want to turn to you, thank you for the offering you gave at the beginning and I'm curious if you can expound a little bit about what, for a few of those, what drew you to share that or from your deep and extensive work with food adding to this thread of conversation of where we've been. You know, I'm a hyperverbal. Some people say I have verbal diarrhea at times. So I'm always trying to get some thoughts out and as I was thinking about traveling here and trying to understand my presence and responsibility, it put me to thinking in addition to which I'm teaching a course right now called Two Courses, Race, Food and Justice from the field to the table that alternative is looking in the 20th century between African American, Native American, Asian and Latin, a little less so, realities beginning initially with conquest and then mostly 20th century to question the primacy of European domination and hegemony and also a course on African diaspora religions and media around religious practices across the diaspora that makes me have to look at Native American or First Nations texts and ways of thinking as well as African American. I was stuck in that circle when or before when I heard this new to me, Oya as gender and I had been in this smudging time really focusing on this tree outside and thinking about that it could be a roco or tempo, the tree deity and Oya in a Yoruba sense, the goddess that controls the wind was talking to me through the tree about being present and so I think often and I felt in that circle time since we had meditation about the ancestors I have from Fall River in New Bedford that I've recently learned or Wapanoa that I didn't know, my mother, grandmother, her mother, her mother's mother, my dad, his mother, his father all came to me in that space so I felt like I had a responsibility, I didn't know that was gonna happen to be present in that way. To briefly talk about food I mentioned or you mentioned about me and I guess I did too intergenerational teaching and learning and the easy way I say that anyone has ever made pasta by hand? You take a cup or two of flour and you put it on a table in the most classic way you push your fist in it to make what I call when I used to teach cooking a volcano, you break an egg in it, you might put a little bit of salt or a little oil and then you whisk it if I use the volcano metaphor, the edges of the volcano until you get a dough. Depending on the day, its humidity, its heat, its coolness, you'll get a ring of flour that circles the dough ball that you're gonna create women's knowledge and the economy of thrift understands engineering and chemistry to say I know I need but I'm not sure how much but what I don't need will be left for the next time so I won't waste. And if somebody is near me, younger than me or my age, they will learn this too. You cannot sing, dance, play an instrument or cook without the aid of another human being at some point in the process to help you along the path to knowledge. I'm very concerned in this time we live where and I saw this when I was a chef where the young savant who exists and I believe in genius. I love prints, cannot see the need for their elders is as much a detriment as the climate change that was brought to our attention in terms of hurting Mother Earth. And so intergenerationally for me, I felt the responsibility to try to think about it so I would bring myself more present to this place. Powerful offering Scott, thank you. With the remaining time we have left, I wanna offer a question that I hope you'll pass through the lens of your own lived experience and perspective but as a larger group over the course of the next two days, we are going to be in a space of learning from each other and sharing our experiences of where we've, where we found challenges, where we found successes in coming together and reaffirming why coming together matters. So with the five minutes we have left, what do you feel like needs to be or could be named before entering that conversation? There is, we can't carry the fullness of the past into this moment. So there is, we have these precious two days together to spend but I know I'm firmly of the belief that we can't move forward until we understand where we've been. So if there's anything that you feel that is worth putting into this space as we enter into this time together, please do. Does this work? Yeah, good. I guess I thought I would say whenever we're talking about tribal ancestral presence in regions, I find that the land acknowledgments have complicated that. Because I think we all do that within our tribal communities as a protocol. When we go into a space, if I travel to Oklahoma, for example, I'm sure you know Ronnie, I would say, oh, you know, who's land am I on? I'd like to acknowledge properly, you know, while I'm here, you know, just as a way of respecting and observing the fact that other people have been stewarding, their knowledge has been taken care of the land. It's really good to be really well informed about what's happened over time, but I've noticed among non-native, I think, folks, bringing up loss and genocide and removal. I feel like that grief very quickly gets transformed into, well, maybe we can make a tribe. Maybe the tribe will just come back. Yeah, well, you know, just be careful, I think more broadly, you know, across the country. Be careful what's the difference between forging good relationships, being responsible, thinking about actual sustainable stewardship and really wishful thinking to very quickly move past some really dreadful things that have happened, both in the long past, but also in the 1920s in Massachusetts or, you know, the 1930s or, you know, yeah, it's, there's just a, there's a lot. And I think it sounds nice, you know, to reframe things and everybody's included and everybody's here and everything's great and we're gonna just move together now and fix everything. But it's like, you know, I'm there sitting there thinking like, wait a minute, what just happened? Did I miss something? So that, you know, not to bring the discussion down, but I just wanna be, I wanna understand, I wanna make sure that we understand collectively, very broadly really what we're discussing and how we're gonna frame discussions and work towards things like that. I'm not saying this is something anyone here does, but I'm just, sometimes I'm a little concerned. And what I'll just say about that is, I was so moved yesterday by something someone said about the word reconciliation and language like the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which has, you know, been used in Canada with First Peoples, that the challenge of reconciliation, reconciliation assumes harm, or coming together after harm between two equal parties. And to move forward in a good way without acknowledgment of, and without restorative justice is, you know, it feels like an avoidance of discomfort and we need to be able to sit in it, I agree. Scott, I saw you're on the mic. Is this on? Yeah. I really respect what you said and I think it's very difficult to be an active listener and it's much easier for people to wanna inject their thought. And to be an active listener, and for me, we've said it already here, agency really matters and action as well. I, as I mentioned, I've recently had, the last few years, learned that I have native blood, but, you know, it's something that, it's new to me, but when I hear, especially these last, I guess four years, this land acknowledgement, I said, well, isn't it time to be active and not just gestural and really understand what the implications are as well as the fact that for some people, as you mentioned, there's genocide, there's trauma, there's PTSD. I was talking to somebody yesterday, the day before, about fear and literally fear of blackness and it was somebody who was a foreign national and they asked me, my colleague who knew this woman, asked me if I had fear. I said, well, you know, there's places I have fear in this country, but the places I really have fear are the ones that don't seem fearful because they look in quotes normative, but they, I know a black man in their world and so I don't like the fact that I have to feel that and that somebody has to be able to listen to my reality to understand what that existence is that means being a very active listener, not just empathetic and compassionate, but really thinking about change and acting on it and I think that's the harder work that we have to do that continues to make us to redefine, reevaluate and reinvest in ways that maybe we haven't done wholeheartedly to date and need to. Thank you and on that note, I'm going to wrap us up as we are out of time so thank you Scott and Kyle and Elizabeth for your contributions, I so appreciate it. And for those on TV, thank you so much for joining us.