upworthy

documentary

Adam Trunell

The Goodbye Line project

There are times when we want to say goodbye to a person, a concept, a city, an inner child, or even just an idea, but, for whatever reason, that opportunity has passed. Maybe the recipient is unavailable and what's left is a void that leaves our well-wishes with no real place to land.

Documentary filmmaker Adam Trunell and his partner Alexis Wood wanted to help fill that void by not only giving a creative outlet to help people bid adieu, but to create a sense of community by sharing it with people online. We all experience loss, heartbreak, grief—and this seemed like a way to strip down to our most vulnerable memories, perhaps the ones that got snagged somewhere, in order to process them so that we can let them go.

One of the reels on The Goodbye Line TikTok page (@thegoodbyeline) simply states: "The void calls. We answer." And that's exactly how it works. From any payphone (or cell phone, if one wishes), a person can call a toll-free number. A recording answers to welcome them to "The Goodbye Line," explaining, "This payphone, like us, is here now but won't be forever." From there, one is encouraged to leave a goodbye, fleeting thought, or poem—whatever they need to get off their hearts. If they want to opt out of having their stories shared on social media, they just have to say so in the call.

@thegoodbyeline

The void calls. We answer.


Upworthy spoke with Adam and Alexis about how this unique art/social project sparked. Adam shares, "It came out of a rainy day conversation about loss and community, and we sort of walked backwards into an idea. We designed a sticker, put it up on some of the remaining payphones around LA, and couldn’t say whether we’d get a single call. They come in now all day, every day, and run the full spectrum of goodbyes. There’s no single type of goodbye, but every message is an attempt to pin something down before it disappears completely. And a reminder that loss, in all its forms, connects us."

The line doesn't speak back, he tells us. "The line just listens. It doesn’t judge, doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to make things OK. It just takes what you give it, without question, and holds it. And sometimes that’s enough.”

What's even more impactful is the community of people who listen to these goodbyes. "The fact people show up and listen, and follow, and comment and share, tells us that grief isn’t just about loss. It’s about connection. And mourning isn’t just something we do in private — it’s also deeply communal. So that even if we aren’t the ones speaking, we can hear ourselves in other people's messages.”

Alexis adds that because there are so many different versions of "loss," the calls range in tone. "A lot of the calls are about losing someone who’s passed, but there are just as many about losing relationships or friendships with people who are still alive. And honestly, I don’t think we talk about that kind of loss enough.”

She explains how the payphones themselves have become a character in the art piece. "There’s something raw and immediate about stumbling on a payphone out in the world—it catches people off guard, and that moment feels different than someone who finds us through Instagram and comes in with a bit more context. What’s even more fascinating is how each payphone seems to absorb the energy of its neighborhood. They take on their own personalities—what gets said, who picks up the phone—it all shifts depending on where they are. The calls start to reflect the place, and that’s been one of the most powerful parts of this whole thing.”

payphone, phone, landline, the goodbye line, phone calls, closureThe Goodbye Line Payphone project Photo credited to Adam Trunell

Adam acknowledges how complex letting go can be. "There are some things we never get to say, and that doesn’t just disappear. Loss doesn’t have an expiration date. Some goodbyes take years to find a voice. And when they do, for a moment, even saying a name can restore a presence. You hear it in the messages; sometimes people pick up the phone and don’t know what they’re holding onto until they say it out loud.”

As Adolf Hitler continued construction on concentration camps in Europe, 20,000 American Nazis gathered in one of the most iconic venues in the world.

The event? "A Pro-American Rally" in New York's Madison Square Garden.

[rebelmouse-image 19345865 dam="1" original_size="698x466" caption="Image via "A Night At The Garden"/YouTube." expand=1]Image via "A Night At The Garden"/YouTube.


The black and white footage seen below — curated by documentarian Marshall Curry in a 7-minute film, "A Night At The Garden" — is appalling.There's no added audio commentary or dramatized film editing — the bone-chilling scenes and speeches from the 1939 event speak for themselves.

This, terrifyingly, happened in America:

"A Night At The Garden" premiered in October 2017 on The Atlantic. But the film, also published on YouTube, went viral on Reddit in February 2018, sparking another wave of attention to the alarming and often forgotten event.

Nearly eight decades later, many of the themes and rhetoric on display are strikingly similar to the political climate of today.

A speaker at the event attacked a biased media and portrayed himself as the victim: "Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans, American patriots," he began. "I am sure I do not come before you tonight as a complete stranger. You all have heard of me through the Jewish-controlled press, as a creature with horns, a cloven hoof, and a long tail." The crowd laughed.

Much of the event showed overt signs of nationalism: a massive banner of George Washington hung above the stage while dozens of officials marched proudly, American flags held high. The event, let's not forget, was dubbed "Pro-American."

‌Image via "A Night At The Garden"/YouTube.‌

The speaker promoted a nostalgic yearning for the past — one undeniably tied to race and power. "We, with American ideals, demand that our government shall be returned to the American people who founded it," he yelled to cheers. The event turned violent at one point as well, while the speaker did nothing to calm tensions, grinning from behind the podium as the crowd roared.

“The first thing that struck me was that an event like this could happen in the heart of New York City,” Curry noted to The Atlantic last year. “Watching it felt like an episode of 'The Twilight Zone,' where history has taken a different path. But it wasn’t science fiction — it was real, historical footage. It all felt eerily familiar, given today’s political situation."

“It seems amazing that [the event] isn’t a stock part of every high school history class," Curry said.

But there's a reason why that is, according to the filmmaker: "This story was likely nudged out of the canon in part because it’s scary and embarrassing. It tells a story about our country that we’d prefer to forget."

But it's crucial — now more than ever — that we don't.

For Amanda Acevedo, getting on the honor roll meant fighting through a lot of physical pain.

The 10-year-old from East Harlem, New York, didn't have a reliable computer at home or school to complete her assignments in the evening. In order to keep up in class, she was often left with no choice but to write out entire essays using her thumbs on her mother's cell phone.

Can you imagine?


[rebelmouse-image 19531949 dam="1" original_size="500x256" caption="GIF via "Without a Net: The Digital Divide In America."" expand=1]GIF via "Without a Net: The Digital Divide In America."

Rory Kennedy couldn't — until she witnessed it herself.

“[Acevedo] would sit there and you would hear her thumbs crack and she would talk about it being painful," explains a dumbfounded Kennedy, director of the film, "Without a Net: The Digital Divide in America," which features Acevedo's story.

I'm speaking with Kennedy at the documentary's New York Film Festival premiere on Oct. 3, where a number of the film's supporters — most notably, "Spider-Man: Homecoming" star Zendaya — rallied behind its cause. "I thought, my God," Kennedy continues, as we chat a few minutes before her film debuts to a full house. "We are making it physically painful for poor kids to learn in this country.”

"Without a Net" shines a light on the discrepancies between the haves and have-nots when it comes to technology in our public schools.

The film paints a startling picture.

In wealthier districts, students tend to have far more tech resources at their disposal than students in poorer ones. A Pennsylvania high school in "Without a Net," for instance, boasts a popular, well-funded robotics course, but just a few miles away, another school struggles to integrate even a few basic computers into its curriculum. The money's just not there.

It's a "digital divide" that'll cost us in more ways than one if we don't act. By 2020, the U.S. Department of Labor estimates 77% of all jobs will require computer skills — a figure that will only increase throughout the following decades. This issue isn't just about equality, it's about long-term economic security too. If future generations don't have the necessary skills for 21st-century jobs, we'll all be left behind.  

For Zendaya, the "digital divide" hits particularly close to home.

[rebelmouse-image 19531950 dam="1" original_size="750x533" caption="Zendaya at the screening of "Without A Net: The Digital Divide in America." Photo by Craig Barritt/Getty Images for Verizon Foundation." expand=1]Zendaya at the screening of "Without A Net: The Digital Divide in America." Photo by Craig Barritt/Getty Images for Verizon Foundation.

The Hollywood star, who eagerly threw her support behind Kennedy's documentary, is an ambassador to the #WeNeedMore campaign by Verizon — an effort to make tech more accessible in underfunded schools. The telecom giant co-produced the film.

Stories like Acevedo's, Zendaya says, hit close to home.

"I grew up in [the digital divide]," she explains, dressed in a glittery gown on the red carpet — worlds away from the working class Oakland, California, community where she was raised. "It’s something that I’ve lived firsthand." As a child, Zendaya attended a well-resourced private school where her dad worked and had the privilege of benefiting from financial aid. But her mom taught at a struggling school in the area's public school system; the stark contrast left a lasting impression on the actor.

"How do you have a school where kids are able to experiment with coding and build robots and then you have schools that don’t even have Wi-Fi?" Zendaya continued. "What are you telling those children?"

As Zendaya notes, pointing to her learnings from the film, the solution isn't to go out and buy a bunch of iPads either. It's more complicated than that.

"Without a Net" dove into the three major barriers keeping tech inaccessible for millions of students:

  1. There's a lack of tech products in schools. Thousands of schools simply don't have the funds to buy every student a laptop or create classes like coding and robotics.
  2. There's a lack of internet connection in schools. Particularly in poorer, rural areas of the country, connecting to high-speed internet is surprisingly difficult and astonishingly expensive. Despite progress in recent years, 23% of school districts still don't have sufficient bandwidth to meet the needs for digital learning, according to the Education SuperHighway.
  3. There's a lack of tech-trained teachers in schools. Even if products are available and the internet's up and running, training teachers on how to use the products in their classrooms is quite costly. In fact, 60% of teachers feel they haven't been adequately trained on using technology in the classroom, a 2015 survey by Samsung found.

"The things my mom had to do just to get computers in the classroom or just to get Wi-Fi or just get arts education," Zendaya said, shaking her head in frustration. She may have blossomed into a Hollywood movie star, but she's clearly still agitated by the injustice undermining her hometown. "[My mom] worked too hard to do something that should just be there."

One thing those three major barriers have in common? Yep, you spotted it: They all cost money. Lots of it. And inner-city schools, like Acevedo's in New York City, as well as a good number of rural districts simply do not have that funding.

School funding is largely contingent — and arguably overlydependent — on local property taxes.

In affluent communities, where businesses are flourishing and property values are high, public schools reap the benefits in their bank accounts. In districts where business is scarce and property values are lower, the local tax pool schools dependent on is significantly reduced. As the film noted, this massive inequality — seen in metropolitan areas like Detroit, Philadelphia, and Chicago — means some schools have the funds for more and better qualified teachers, nutritious lunches, innovative art programs, and classroom technologies, while others barely make ends meet.

A Chicago student protests cuts to public school funding in 2013. Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.

We desperately need change. And you can be part of it.

Kennedy is encouraging viewers to hold public screenings of her film — which is free to view on YouTube, as seen below — to raise public awareness of the issues at play and push for change at the grassroots level.

But students can play a role in making a difference too. Zendaya hopes underserved kids who see the film feel inspired to speak out in their own communities and challenge the status quo. Their futures are worth it, after all.

"Your voice is powerful, your voice is strong," she says. "It’s OK to go ahead and ask for what you think you deserve."

Watch "Without a Net: The Digital Divide in America," below and learn more at DigitalDivide.com.

If you see only one Oscar-nominated film this year, make it "13th."

Directed by Ava DuVernay, the stirring documentary explores America's long history of overpolicing and imprisoning black and brown people since the passing of the 13th Amendment. DuVernay sat down with scholars, educators, elected leaders, authors, and activists to tell this troubling but necessary story.

DuVernay (left) interviews scholar and activist Angela Davis for "13th." Image via Netflix.


While these issues are difficult, we need to talk about them and, better yet, do something about them. "13th" truly couldn't have come at a better time.

Here are 13 lessons everyone should learn from this from powerful must-see film.

1. The 13th Amendment had so much promise ... almost.

Section 1 of the 13th Amendment reads:

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction."

The clause, "except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted,"was included so farmers and landowners could essentially continue a form of slavery to support their businesses — so long as the black men and women were deemed criminals. There's no such thing as a throwaway clause in the Constitution. This is an intentional legal loophole.

A political cartoon from 1865 featuring President Lincoln and an amended U.S. constitution. Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images.

2. The legal loophole in the 13th Amendment led to mass arrests and incarceration during the late 19th century.

It was the United States' first prison boom.

Black people were arrested en masse for petty crimes, like loitering or vagrancy, and incarcerated. Once labeled criminals, landowners and farmers could "lease" convicts from the state in exchange for full control of their lives.

These convicts were leased to harvest timber. Photo circa 1915, via World Digital Library/State Library and Archives of Florida.

3. While black men filled prisons, popular culture stoked fears.

Black men were portrayed in films as menacing, evil, and in relentless pursuit of white women.

In the 1915 film, "Birth of a Nation," which is essentially three hours of racist propaganda masking as a historical film, a white woman throws herself off a rocky cliff to save herself from being assaulted by a black man. Critics raved, drowning out mounting protests.

As a result of the popular film, membership in the Ku Klux Klan boomed.

Still image from "Birth of a Nation," (1915). Image via "Birth of a Nation"/Wikimedia Commons.

4. As the KKK grew, black people were terrorized and murdered.

Lynchings were used to reinforce white supremacy while traumatizing and terrorizing black people. There was a disgusting entertainment aspect to it, as mobs of white people — including elected officials and community leaders — gathered to watch victims get beaten, shot, and tortured. Picture postcards were made of the swinging, mutilated bodies.

More than 4,000 lynchings occurred between 1877 and 1950 across Texas and the American South.

A large crowd watches the lynching of 18-year-old Jesse Washington in Waco, Texas. Photo via Library of Congress.

5. The murder of Emmett Till kickstarted the Civil Rights movement.

14-year-old Emmett Till was brutally beaten and murdered by a group of white men for allegedly whistling at and flirting with a white woman in 1955. (The woman recently admitted she fabricated at least part of her testimony.) Photos from his open casket funeral and the face of Till's weeping mother sent shockwaves around the country, galvanizing black people and their allies in the fight for equality.

6. But then the War on Drugs started an unrelenting wave of mass incarceration.

Crime started to increase in the early 1960s, and many in power quickly blamed the uptick on the end of segregation. Before long, the word "crime" was a stand-in for the word "race."

Nixon appealed to southern Democrats with thinly-veiled racism and promises to clean up the streets. His rhetorical "War on Drugs" became very real in the 1980s under President Reagan, who threw money, resources, and the full weight of the executive branch behind the issue. A wide swath of an entire generation was essentially removed from the narrative.

President Ronald Reagan and his wife Nancy wave to supporters in November 1984. Photo by Don Rypka/AFP/Getty Images.

7. The numbers are astonishing. Full stop.

In 1970, there were 196,429 sentenced prisoners in state and federal prisons. In 1980, there were 329,821 people in state and federal prisons, and by 1990, that number more than doubled to 771,243.

Today, the American criminal justice system holds 2.3 million people. This is not normal. It is not OK.

8. Republicans are not solely to blame for this crisis. President Clinton did his part too.

In the wake of President Reagan and President George H.W. Bush, appearing "soft on crime" wasn't an option for President Bill Clinton. In 1994, he signed the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act. It expanded the list of death penalty eligible offenses and included a "three strikes" provision, which meant mandatory life sentences for people convicted of their third felony. It also funded new prisons and provided the budget for 100,000 police officers.

President Bill Clinton. Photo by Paul Richards/AFP/Getty Images.

9. Sadly, there's a lot of money to be made off mass incarceration.

Private correctional facilities made a reported $629 million in profits in 2014, and that's just scratching the surface. From the corporations building and maintaining prison facilities, to the food vendors, health care providers, and equipment and textile manufacturers who keep them running, many companies have a lot to gain from maintaining the status quo.

An inmate stands with handcuffs in San Quentin State Prison. Photo by Justin Sullivan/Getty Images.

10. As mass incarceration starts to get a bad rap, the winds are shifting — and not necessarily for the better.

As mass incarceration and America's prison problem take center stage, legislators and businesses are looking for new ways to redefine the narrative while still making money. What does that look like? For starters, monetizing bail, probation, parole, and house arrest.

Photo by iStock.

11. We can't forget the people and families caught in the struggle.

In 2010, 16-year-old Kalief Browder was arrested for a robbery he insisted he did not commit. Browder was thrown into an adult correctional facility where he would spend nearly three years awaiting trial and almost two years in solitary confinement. In 2013, the district attorney dismissed the case against Browder, and he went home a free — but forever changed — young man.

After many attempts, Browder died by suicide in May 2015.

Browder's story is far too common. Many poor people, especially poor people of color, are locked up for years either awaiting trial or because they cannot afford bail.

ABC News' Juju Chang, Venida Browder, mother of Kalief Browder, and civil rights attorney Paul V. Prestia discuss Kalief Browder's life and death. Photo by Slaven Vlasic/Getty Images.

12. American prisons are intended to punish, but former felons continue to suffer after they have served their time.

Former felons are stripped of voting rights, have difficulty securing employment, applying for aid, and finding housing.

"Ban the box" campaigns that seek to end asking about felony convictions on job and aid applications are popping up across the country, and for many, these initiatives can't come soon enough.

Outreach materials at a press conference for a Ban the Box Petition Delivery to The White House in 2015. Photo by Larry French/Getty Images for ColorOfChange.org.

13. As President Trump settles into office, many are worried about his next moves — and rightfully so.

He repeatedly refers to parts of Chicago as lawless, dangerous, and worse than parts of the war-torn Middle East. He's threatened the city with federal intervention to get the "carnage" under control. His repeated calls to arrest and deport undocumented immigrants tend to include gross mischaracterizations of immigrants as gang members, rapists, or drug dealers.

His "law and order" catchphrase is the same dog whistle Nixon used to kickstart the War on Drugs. His comments about Chicago and other inner cities are stoking fears and playing to the imaginations of his base, much like the horrifying scenes in "Birth of a Nation."

Photo by Mario Tama/Getty Images.

These facts are alarming, but here's what you can do about it.

Use your privilege for good. Pass the mic to voices that may go unheard. Help others register to vote. Support Ban the Box initiatives and organizations that help people with criminal records land on their feet.

Ask to see the numbers. Plenty of police data is publicly available. Check out the numbers in your community. Look at the demographics of people being stopped, arrested, or convicted. Numbers don't lie. Hold your leaders accountable and make them answer for racial disparities.

Stay active in schools. Overpolicing and the criminalization of black people doesn't begin and end with police officers. Black children are nearly four times as likely to be suspended as white children. Ask tough questions of your child's teachers and administrators. Attend school board meetings.

Photo by iStock.

This is no ordinary crisis and it will require extraordinary solutions.

Watch the film, do your part. Let's get to work.