How many Ahmaud Arberys is it going to take, America?

It's a story as old as America itself. A story we've heard so many times we've collectively got it memorized.

Chapter 1: Black man lives his life. White man thinks black man living his life looks suspicious. White man kills black man.

Chapter 2: White killer goes home and lives his life. Black man's family reels and cries for justice. Black man's community reels and cries for justice. Weeks or months pass, until the cries for justice grow long and loud enough that someone in power actually listens.

Chapter 3 is a cliffhanger, every time. Will the white killer be arrested? This time, yes. Will he be convicted? We'll find out in the next chapter—but don't count on it.


Anyone who is shocked by the killing of Ahmaud Arbery—an unarmed young black man shot by two armed white men while jogging through a suburban Georgia neighborhood—has not been paying attention. This is not new. This is not shocking. This is the ongoing history of racism and racial injustice in America.

And it's not just the shooting itself, which appears to be a pretty blatant modern-day lynching. It's the legal system that processes the killing. It's the law enforcement agencies—which the shooter used to work in—charged with investigating it. It's the justice system that will determine whether these men are guilty of murder or if they were justified in killing this young man.

It's also the law itself, such as the "stand your ground" and "citizen arrest" laws in Georgia that will be undoubtedly be used as a defense. Since research has shown that racial minorities are more often perceived as a criminal threat, such laws disproportionately impact people of color.

As civil rights leader Markel Hutchins said, "Fear is, oftentimes, based on one's own bias, so when you have public policy that literally lends itself to people being able to commit crimes or shootings under the color of law, because they're reasonably afraid, it makes a bad public policy and puts the constitutional rights of so many people around the country in jeopardy."

Because law enforcement has traditionally been dominated by white men, white male citizens taking the law into their own hands feels less problematic than it should to many people. The image of white male heroes taking out criminals is baked into our subconscious, and we have such a long history of murder with impunity, seeing black men being killed has become disturbingly normalized. Toss in the infiltration of white supremacists in American law enforcement—yes, really—and we have a richly laid-out background setting for this all-too-familiar story.

It's almost absurd how neatly Ahmaud Arbery's killing follows the expected plotline and leaves us with familiar questions. Why was the encounter filmed in the first place? (That fact alone should give us pause—his murder was filmed, and not by police.) Why did it take two-and-a-half months for these men to be arrested when the police had the crime on video from the get go? Why did it take an enormous national effort of activists pushing for justice for just the very first step toward justice to take place? Why did the case have to be taken over by state investigators? Why did it only take them 36 hours to make arrests when local investigators had sat on it for 70-plus days?

As one astute commenter wrote, "Remember, they weren't arrested because the authorities saw the tape; they were arrested because the rest of us saw it." Indeed.

There are other, more specific questions in this case that confound as well. Journalist Jelani Cobb broke down some of the contradictions in the story as told by the defendants' lawyer friend who released cell phone footage of the shooting.

Cobb wrote on Twitter:

There are many more questions than answers re #AhmaudArbery. The video, which looks like a lynching, was, strangely enough, released by a local attorney in an attempt to *defuse* the situation. (Police and prosecutors had the video from the outset.)

In the police report McMichael says he has surveillance video Arbery committing a burglary. Yet DA Barnhill makes no mention of any video in his letter defending the McMichaels, nor has anyone else publicly.

The account McMichael gave police in the report is widely at odds with what the video from the chase reveals. Travis McMichael didn't get out of the car during an exchange with Arbery, he was outside the car, armed with the shotgun, waiting for Arbery to pass by.

Beyond this, the alleged rationale for pursuing Arbery was suspicion of his involvement in a rash of neighborhood break-ins. But as local outlets have reported there were no home burglaries reported in the community in 2020.

There are all kinds of contradictions and outstanding questions regarding this situation that should guide how media and investigators approach the case of #AhmaudArbery's death.

We could debate all of the details of Arbery's killing, but doing so starts to distract from the big picture, which is this:

Black Americans don't feel safe in our country for a reason. Black Lives Matter exists for a reason. Black Americans have higher rates of poverty and more health problems and disproportionate crime rates for a reason. Black folks are even experiencing this freaking pandemic disproportionately for a reason.

Every reason for racial inequality and injustice traces back to racism—historical, institutional, racism — in addition to personal, individual racism. As prominent voices and activists—as well as my own black friends and family—keep saying, this isn't new. This has been the perpetual, ongoing, exhausting reality of daily life as a black American for centuries.

And we don't even have to go all the way back to slavery. In 1951, the Civil Rights Congress petitioned the United Nations to call the U.S. government to account for its crimes against black people in America. Seventy years later, despite having won equal civil rights on paper, black people are still experiencing injustice from institutions that are supposed to protect all Americans. We still have laws that can be—and are—used as a cover for racism. We still have to have national campaigns with organizations and senators and citizen petitions in order to get the wheels of justice turning for one black man murdered while jogging. It's ridiculous.

Our black friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances are tired. Not only is the fight for justice seemingly never ending, but Ahmaud Arbery's death just adds to the laundry list of things black Americans have to worry about doing.

This is why it's not enough to just be "not racist." Being "not racist" in a country whose history and institutions have always been permeated with racism doesn't do anything to change the status quo. It's like saying, "I'm not planting weeds" in a garden where weeds keep popping up. That's nice that you're not contributing to it, but you're not actually helping.

Racism has to be uprooted to be eliminated, and that can't be done passively. We have to be willing to continually dig in and get our hands dirty if we ever hope to rid our world of it. Occasional activism like today's #IRunForMaud run are well and good, but occasional activism can't be all that we do.

White Americans (like myself) need to acknowledge that it's not enough to be non-racist and start embracing anti-racism. Start by following black thought leaders. Do an honest, deep dive into the concepts of white fragility and privilege. Join anti-racism groups, such as Showing Up for Racial Justice. Contact your representatives and push them for legislation like California's new Racial Justice Act. Keep on educating yourself and address racism directly when you see it.

Change doesn't just happen; it's created. If we want the stories of racial justice in America to have better endings, we need to play a proactive role in creating a whole new setting and an entirely new plotline for them.

Images courtesy of Letters of Love
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When Grace Berbig was 7 years old, her mom was diagnosed with leukemia, a cancer of the body’s blood-forming tissues. Being so young, Grace didn’t know what cancer was or why her mother was suddenly living in the hospital. But she did know this: that while her mom was in the hospital, she would always be assured that her family was thinking of her, supporting her and loving her every step of her journey.

Nearly every day, Grace and her two younger sisters would hand-make cards and fill them with drawings and messages of love, which their mother would hang all over the walls of her hospital room. These cherished letters brought immeasurable peace and joy to their mom during her sickness. Sadly, when Grace was just 10 years old, her mother lost her battle with cancer.“

Image courtesy of Letters of Love

Losing my mom put the world in a completely different perspective for me,” Grace says. “I realized that you never know when someone could leave you, so you have to love the people you love with your whole heart, every day.”

Grace’s father was instrumental in helping in the healing process of his daughters. “I distinctly remember my dad constantly reminding my two little sisters, Bella and Sophie, and I that happiness is a choice, and it was now our job to turn this heartbreaking event in our life into something positive.”

When she got to high school, Grace became involved in the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and a handful of other organizations. But she never felt like she was doing enough.

“I wanted to create an opportunity for people to help beyond donating money, and one that anyone could be a part of, no matter their financial status.”

In October 2018, Grace started Letters of Love, a club at her high school in Long Lake, Minnesota, to emotionally support children battling cancer and other serious illnesses through letter-writing and craft-making.


Image courtesy of Letters of Love

Much to her surprise, more than 100 students showed up for the first club meeting. From then on, Letters of Love grew so fast that during her senior year in high school, Grace had to start a GoFundMe to help cover the cost of card-making materials.

Speaking about her nonprofit today, Grace says, “I can’t find enough words to explain how blessed I feel to have this organization. Beyond the amount of kids and families we are able to support, it allows me to feel so much closer and more connected to my mom.”

Since its inception, Letters of Love has grown to more than 25 clubs with more than 1,000 members providing emotional support to more than 60,000 patients in children’s hospitals around the world. And in the process it has become a full-time job for Grace.

“I do everything from training volunteers and club ambassadors, paying bills, designing merchandise, preparing financial predictions and overviews, applying for grants, to going through each and every card ensuring they are appropriate to send out to hospitals.”

Image courtesy of Letters of Love

In addition to running Letters of Love, Grace and her small team must also contend with the emotions inherent in their line of work.

“There have been many, many tears cried,” she says. “Working to support children who are battling cancer and other serious and sometimes chronic illnesses can absolutely be extremely difficult mentally. I feel so blessed to be an organization that focuses solely on bringing joy to these children, though. We do everything we can to simply put a smile on their face, and ensure they know that they are so loved, so strong, and so supported by people all around the world.”

Image courtesy of Letters of Love

Letters of Love has been particularly instrumental in offering emotional support to children who have been unable to see friends and family due to COVID-19. A video campaign in the summer of 2021 even saw members of the NFL’s Minnesota Vikings and the NHL’s Minnesota Wild offer short videos of hope and encouragement to affected children.

Grace is currently taking a gap year before she starts college so she can focus on growing Letters of Love as well as to work on various related projects, including the publication of a children’s book.

“The goal of the book is to teach children the immense impact that small acts of kindness can have, how to treat their peers who may be diagnosed with disabilities or illness, and how they are never too young to change the world,” she says.

Since she was 10, Grace has kept memories of her mother close to her, as a source of love and inspiration in her life and in the work she does with Letters of Love.

Image courtesy of Grace Berbig

“When I lost my mom, I felt like a section of my heart went with her, so ever since, I have been filling that piece with love and compassion towards others. Her smile and joy were infectious, and I try to mirror that in myself and touch people’s hearts as she did.”

For more information visit Letters of Love.

Please donate to Grace’s GoFundMe and help Letters of Love to expand, publish a children’s book and continue to reach more children in hospitals around the world.

What you look like in a selfie camera isn't really what you look like in real life.

We've all done it: You snap a selfie, look at it, say, "OMG is my nose swollen?" then try again from a different angle. "Wait, now my forehead looks weird. And what's up with my chin?" You keep trying various angles and distances, trying to get a picture that looks like how you remember yourself looking. Whether you finally land on one or not, you walk away from the experience wondering which photo actually looks like the "real" you.

I do this, even as a 40-something-year-old who is quite comfortable with the face I see in the mirror. So, it makes me cringe imagining a tween or teen, who likely take a lot more selfies than I do, questioning their facial features based on those snapshots. When I'm wondering why my facial features look weird in selfies it's because I know my face well enough to know that's not what it looks like. However, when a young person whose face is changing rapidly sees their facial features distorted in a photo, they may come to all kinds of wrong conclusions about what they actually look like.

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Images courtesy of AFutureSuperhero and Friends and Balance Dance Project
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The day was scorching hot, but the weather wasn’t going to stop a Star Wars Stormtrooper from handing out school supplies to a long line of eager children. “You guys don’t have anything illegal back there - any droids or anything?” the Stormtrooper asks, making sure he was safe from enemies before handing over a colorful backpack to a smiling boy.

The man inside the costume is Yuri Williams, founder of AFutureSuperhero And Friends, a Los Angeles nonprofit that uplifts and inspires marginalized people with small acts of kindness.

Yuri’s organization is one of four inaugural grant winners from the Upworthy Kindness Fund, a joint initiative between Upworthy and GoFundMe that celebrates kindness and everyday actions inspired by the best of humanity. This year, the Upworthy Kindness Fund is giving $100,000 to grassroots changemakers across the world.

To apply, campaign organizers simply tell Upworthy how their kindness project is making a difference. Between now and the end of 2021, each accepted individual or organization will receive $500 towards an existing GoFundMe and a shout-out on Upworthy.

Meet the first four winners:

1: Balance Dance Project: This studio aims to bring accessible dance to all in the Sacramento, CA area. Lead fundraiser Miranda Macias says many dancers spend hours a day at Balance practicing contemporary, lyrical, hip-hop, and ballet. Balance started a GoFundMe to raise money to cover tuition for dancers from low-income communities, buy dance team uniforms, and update its facility. The $500 contribution from the Kindness Fund nudged Balance closer to its $5,000 goal.

2: Citizens of the World Mar Vista Robotics Team: In Los Angeles, middle school teacher James Pike is introducing his students to the field of robotics via a Lego-building team dedicated to solving real-world problems.

James started a GoFundMe to crowdfund supplies for his students’ team ahead of the First Lego League, a school-against-school matchup that includes robotics competitions. The team, James explained, needed help to cover half the cost of the pricey $4,000 robotics kit. Thanks to help from the Upworthy Kindness Fund and the generosity of the Citizens of the World Middle School community, the team exceeded its initial fundraising goal.

Citizens of the World Mar Vista Robotics Team video update youtu.be

3: Black Fluidity Tattoo Club: Kiara Mills and Tann Parker want to fix a big problem in the tattoo industry: there are too few Black tattoo artists. To tackle the issue, the duo founded the Black Fluidity Tattoo Club to inspire and support Black tattooers. While the Brooklyn organization is open to any Black person, Kiara and Tann specifically want to encourage dark-skinned artists to train in an affirming space among people with similar identities.

To make room for newcomers, the club recently moved into a larger studio with a third station for apprentices or guest artists. Unlike a traditional fundraiser that supports the organization exclusively, Black Fluidity Tattoo Club will distribute proceeds from GoFundMe directly to emerging Black tattoo artists who are starting their own businesses. The small grants, supported in part with a $500 contribution from the Upworthy Kindness Fund, will go towards artists’ equipment, supplies, furnishings, and other start-up costs.

4: AFutureSuperhero And Friends’ “Hope For The Holidays”: Founder Yuri Williams is fundraising for a holiday trip to spread cheer to people in need across all fifty states.

Along with collaborator Rodney Smith Jr., Yuri will be handing out gifts to children, adults, and animals dressed as a Star Wars’ Stormtrooper, Spiderman, Deadpool, and other movie or comic book characters. Starting this month, the crew will be visiting children with disabilities or serious illnesses, bringing leashes and toys to animal shelters for people taking home a new pet, and spreading blessings to unhoused people—all while in superhero costume. This will be the third time Yuri and his nonprofit have taken this journey.

AFutureSuperhero started a GoFundMe in July to cover the cost of gifts as well as travel expenses like hotels and rental cars. To help the nonprofit reach its $15,000 goal, the Upworthy Kindness Fund contributed $500 towards this good cause.

Think you qualify for the fund? Tell us how you’re bringing kindness to your community. Grants will be awarded on a rolling basis from now through the end of 2021. For questions and more information, please check out our FAQ's and the Kindness Toolkit for resources on how to start your own kindness fundraiser.

This article originally appeared on 11.30.16


Norine Dworkin-McDaniel's son came home from school one day talking about Newton's first law of motion.

He had just learned it at school, her son explained as they sat around the dinner table one night. It was the idea that "an object at rest will remain at rest until acted on by an external force."

"It struck me that it sounded an awful lot like him and his video games," she joked.

A writer by trade and always quick to turn a phrase, Norine grabbed a pen and scribbled some words:

"Newton's First Law of Parenting: A child at rest will remain at rest ... until you need your iPad back."

And just like that, she started creating "The Science of Parenthood," a series that names and identifies hilarious, universal parenting struggles. She put in a quick call to her friend Jessica Ziegler, a visual and graphics expert, and together the two set out to bring the project to life.

Here are some of their discoveries:

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This article originally appeared on 11.30.16


Chris Porsz was tired of studying sociology.

As a university student in the 1970s, he found the talk of economics and statistics completely mind-numbing. So instead, he says, he roamed the streets of his hometown of Peterborough, England, with a camera in hand, snapping pictures of the people he met and listening to their stories. To him, it was a far better way to understand the world.

All photos by Chris Porsz/REX/Shutterstock.

He always looked for the most eccentric people he could find, anyone who stood out from the crowd. Sometimes he'd snap a single picture of that person and walk away. Other times he'd have lengthy conversations with these strangers.

But eventually, life moved on and so did he. He fell out of love with photography. "Those pictures collected dust for 25 years," he says.

Then, a few years ago, Porsz found those 30- to 40-year-old photos and sent them to be printed in his local newspaper.

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