KYIV, Ukraine (AP) — Belarus’ authorities on Monday handed a jail sentence to a factory strike organizer and detained a leading opposition activist, part of a methodical effort to stifle weeks of protests against the country’s authoritarian leader after an election the opposition says was rigged.
President Alexander Lukashenko, who has ruled the 9.5-million nation with an iron fist for 26 years, has dismissed the protesters as Western puppets and rejected the European Union’s offers of mediation. After a ferocious crackdown on demonstrators in the first days after the Aug. 9 presidential vote that caused international outrage, his government has avoided large-scale violence against demonstrators and switched to threats and the selective jailing of activists to stem the protests.
Anatoly Bokun, who leads the strike committee at Belaruskali, a huge potash factory in Soligorsk, was detained by police Monday and handed a 15-day jail sentence on charges of organizing an unsanctioned protest. The factory, which accounts for a fifth of the world’s potash fertilizer output, is the nation’s top cash earner.
The Belaruskali strike committee spokesman, Gleb Sandras, said authorities had managed to halt a strike at the factory that began two weeks ago and all its potash mines are now working. He said agents of Belarus’ State Security Committee, which still goes by the Soviet-era name KGB, had pressured workers to end the strike.
“KGB agents have inundated the factory, tracking down the most active workers and using various means of pressure,” Sandras told The Associated Press. “The authorities have powerful economic instruments. They are blackmailing workers with mass dismissals.”
Strikes at Belaruskali and many other leading industrial plants have cast an unprecedented challenge to Lukashenko, who has kept the bulk of the economy in state hands and relied on blue-collar workers as his main support base.
Belarus Deputy Prime Minister Yuri Nazarov acknowledged Monday that the strikes posed a problem, but said all major industrial plants have resumed normal operations.
Bokun’s detention follows the arrests of strike leaders at two other major industrial plants in Minsk last week. The organizer of a strike at the Grodno Azot, a major producer of nitrogen fertilizers, fled to Poland to escape detention.
Seeking to stem the protests, Belarusian prosecutors have opened a criminal probe against the opposition Coordination Council created to negotiate a transition of power, accusing its members of undermining the country’s security.
Last week, Belarusian courts handed 10-day jail sentences to two council members and summoned several others for questioning, including Svetlana Alexievich, who won the 2015 Nobel Prize in literature. Another council member, Lilia Vlasova, was detained Monday.
“This is the government’s response to our peaceful actions and offers of dialogue,” council member Maria Kolesnikova told the AP. “It means that protests will grow.”
On Monday, Lukashenko ordered the dismissal of Belarus’ ambassador to Spain, Pavel Pustavy, who in a Facebook post called for a recount of the election and criticized the beating of peaceful demonstrators. Belarus earlier dismissed its ambassadors to Slovakia and India for expressing support for the protesters.
Belarusian authorities on Monday also denied entry to Tadeusz Kondrusiewicz, the 74-year-old archbishop of Minsk and Mohilev., keeping him waiting for hours on the border before turning him back to Poland. Last week, Kondrusiewicz strongly criticized the Belarusian police.
Both the U.S. and the EU have criticized the Aug. 9 election that extended Lukashenko’s rule as neither free nor fair and urged Belarusian authorities to talk with the opposition — calls that the 66-year-old leader has rejected.
On Monday, the EU’s Baltic members — Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia — slapped travel sanctions on 30 top Belarusian officials, including Lukashenko. EU foreign ministers are preparing their own sanctions against up to 20 senior Belarus officials suspected of election fraud and the violent crackdown on protesters.
Belarus’ Foreign Ministry spokesman, Anatoly Glaz, warned that Minsk would retaliate. Last week, Lukashenko threatened to respond by redirecting the flow of Belarusian imports via Lithuanian ports and blocking the transit of European cargo across Belarus.
In addition to daily protests, the opposition held another massive rally on Sunday, which saw an estimated 100,000 people flood the streets of Minsk amid a heavy police presence.
German Chancellor Angela Merkel’s spokesman, Steffen Seibert, hailed the protesters’ courage and urged Lukashenko on Monday to “recognize the reality in the country — there needs to be an open dialogue between the leadership, opposition forces and all of Belarusian society to bring about a peaceful solution.”
Yet on Monday, Lukashenko bluntly dismissed the opposition’s push to restore the country’s earlier constitution, which envisaged broad parliamentary powers.
A fierce clampdown on peaceful demonstrators after the vote saw nearly 7,000 detained, hundreds wounded by police rubber bullets, stun grenades and beatings, and at least three protesters dead. Police then let the demonstrations go unhindered for the next two weeks, but last week again cranked up the pressure on demonstrators.
Over the weekend, the Belarusian government also cracked down hard on the news media, deporting some foreign journalists and revoking the accreditation of many Belarusian journalists. Two Moscow-based Associated Press journalists covering the protests in Belarus were deported to Russia on Saturday. In addition, the AP’s Belarusian journalists were told that their press credentials had been revoked.
The Belarusian Association of Journalists said accreditation rights were also taken away from 17 Belarusians working for other media, including Germany’s ARD television, the BBC, Reuters and AFP. The U.S.-funded radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty had five journalists lose their accreditation.
The U.S. and the EU have strongly condemned the Belarus government’s media crackdown.
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Vladimir Isachenkov in Moscow, Geir Moulson in Berlin and Liudas Dapkus in Vilnius, Lithuania contributed to this report.
For four nights last week, the speakers at the Republican National Convention imagined what life would be like in Joe Biden’s America. The picture they painted was dark: riots in the streets, economic devastation, a nation gripped by fear.
At a rare live campaign event on Monday, Biden offered his response, reminding voters that the crises Republicans described was already happening in the real America, the one where Donald Trump has been President for four years.
“These are not images of some imagined Joe Biden America in the future. These are images of Donald Trump’s America today,” Biden said in a speech in Pittsburgh. “He keeps telling you: if only he was President, it wouldn’t happen. He keeps telling us, if he was President, you’d feel safe. Well he is President, whether he knows it or not.”
It was a clever way to turn the dark and ominous messaging of the RNC on its head. Yes, America is plagued by violence, disease and economic devastation—but it’s happening on Trump’s watch.
The RNC was an exercise in using the advantages of incumbency. Trump accepted the nomination at the White House, performed a naturalization ceremony as part of the convention, and pardoned a convicted bank robber on air, showcasing the power of the Presidency for his own political gain.
But in Pittsburgh, Biden turned incumbency against Trump. The common thread to all of our crises, Biden argued, was “an incumbent president who makes things worse, not better. An incumbent president who sows chaos rather than providing order. An incumbent president who fails in the basic duty of the job.”
The speech seemed to echoRonald Reagan’s famous refrain in the 1980 election against Jimmy Carter: “Are you better off than you were four years ago?” While Reagan was asking Americans to reflect on their prosperity and pride, Biden asked Americans to reflect on whether they felt safer in Trump’s America. Ticking off statistics about violent crime, coronavirus deaths, and Trump’s plans for health care and Social Security, Biden repeated the refrain: “Do you really feel safer under Trump?”
For the Democratic nominee, it was also a chance to push back on some of the false talking points promoted by the Trump campaign, including that Biden supports the looting at protests and embraces socialism.
Biden has been clear from the beginning of his campaign about his positions on these issues. He supports Black Lives Matter and the movement for racial justice, but has repeatedly condemned violence and looting at protests and has resisted calls to defund the police.
“I want to be clear about this: Rioting is not protesting. Looting is not protesting. Setting fires is not protesting,” Biden said near the beginning of his speech. “None of this is protesting. It’s lawlessness—plain and simple.”
As for the socialist label, Biden shrugged off the charge as patently ridiculous. “You know me. You know my heart. You know my story, my family’s story,” he said. “Ask yourself: Do I look like a radical socialist with a soft spot for rioters? Really?”
Biden also clarified his position on fracking, which is especially important in a state like Pennsylvania. His position on the issue has at times been confusing: he has called for a transition away from fossil fuels, and in a March debate, he said he was for “no new fracking,” before walking back the comment to clarify that it only applied to federal lands. But this time, he was unequivocal: “I’m not for banning fracking,” he said on Monday. “Let’s say that again: I’m not for banning fracking—no matter how many times Donald Trump lies about me.”
With signs that the polls may be beginning to tighten and many Democrats worrying that widespread civil unrest benefits Trump, Biden’s speech was a full-throated attempt attempt to neutralize the RNC’s portrayal of him as scary and soft. “Donald Trump is determined to instill fear in America. That is what his entire campaign for presidency has come down to: Fear,” Biden said. “But I believe Americans are stronger than that. I believe we will be guided by the words of Pope John Paul II. Words drawn from Scripture: “Be not afraid.”
For some countries, a pandemic and a global economic depression just isn’t enough drama. A couple weeks ago, members of Mali’s military launched a coup in the west African nation to seize power from the country’s democratically elected president, Ibrahim Boubacar Keïta. They accused Keïta of corruption, nepotism, gross economic mismanagement and failing to protect the Malian people from spiking violence. The coup plotters initially wanted to remain in power for three years (roughly the remainder of Keïta’s term) until elections can be held and a competent civilian government voted in; for the moment, the coup seems to have the popular support of the Malian people. The international community is another matter.
Why It Matters:
Mali, a Francophone country home to nearly 20 million people, has plenty of experience when it comes to coups; the last one, which took place in 2012, led to the election of the just-deposed Keïta the following year. Tensions have long been bubbling in the country—Keïta, who hails from the country’s south, is widely regarded as an ineffective leader who has failed to provide the economic stability and physical security that the country desperately needs. To be fair, it is not entirely his fault—when the last coup was launched in 2012, the resulting political instability allowed a range of Islamic fundamentalist groups to capture territory in the north of the country, aligning themselves with various ethnic militias warring between themselves. Many of these jihadi groups were beaten back by French forces who—with Keita’s blessing—arrived to help restore order. But the jihadi threat was never completely eradicated, and the country has spent the better part of the last decade struggling to keep the security situation in check. The violence has only increased of late; in addition to the mounting casualties and people forcibly displaced, opposition leader and former presidential candidate, Soumaila Cisse, was kidnapped (presumably by jihadists) early this year.
Protests have been roiling the country for months now; the more immediate trigger for the protests was the decision by the constitutional court to overturn provisional results in March’s legislative elections, handing 10 more seats to Keïta’s party. That brought the people out to the streets in force, but the breaking point came on August 18 when a contingent of army colonels anointed themselves the National Commission for the People’s Salvation, arrested Keïta and various ministers of the government, and forced Keita to announce his resignation on TV… while wearing a surgical mask (doesn’t get more 2020 than that). It’s unclear whether the protestors were in league with the coup plotters from before, or if the colonels acted under their own initiative.
Regardless, the junta seems to have the popular support of the Malian people; given the very real struggles of the country over the last decade, that’s not shocking. Less enamored with the military coup are the UN (which has about 15,000 peacekeepers stationed in the country), France (with roughly 5,000 troops on the ground), the U.S. (which has a couple drone bases stationed nearby in Niger), the African Union and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS)—the latter has imposed border restrictions, halted financial dealings with the country, paused Mali’s membership in the group and threatened sanctions over the mutiny.
While there is plenty of sympathy for the Malian people, international actors have good reason to be worried by the recent developments—for all his faults (and there are plenty), Keïta was supportive of Western efforts to combat jihadism in the region, and the ensuing political chaos will give these groups the opening to expand their hold on the country. ECOWAS has dispatched a team headed by former Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan to negotiate with the coup plotters and figure out next steps; failure to reach an agreement could dent the bloc’s credibility, but it is unlikely to offer the junta much room for compromise on the contours of a democratic transition. This will align with the preferences of leaders like Alassane Ouattara and Alpha Conde, presidents of Cote d’Ivoire and Guinea respectively, who are seeking controversial third terms in office later this year and would prefer a tough regional response to deter similar uprisings in their countries.
AP.Mahmoud Dicko addresses Malians supporting the recent overthrow of Keita as they gather to celebrate in the capital, Bamako, on Aug. 21
What Happens Next:
Few international voices are calling for the reinstatement of Keïta, as there is broad agreement that he is an ineffectual leader whose return to power would exacerbate the chaos. One of the main protest leaders is a charismatic imam named Mahmoud Dicko; there were rumblings he could use his popular support to seize political power for himself, but he doesn’t seem interested in going that route. Still, many believe his approval of the proceedings will be critical to their acceptance by the Malian people, making him a de facto “kingmaker.”
The coup leaders originally proposed a three-year transition to civilian rule, a time horizon which unnerved those who want to see a democratic solution to the current crisis sooner rather than later, but they have yet to accept ECOWAS’s demand for a 1-year max. Negotiations continue. Interestingly, the coup plotters are asking for France and the international community to continue supporting the country through this transition, and not to abandon Mali in its time of crisis. And there’s good reason for the international community to do so, as distasteful as they may find the current situation—the last time there was a coup in the country in 2012, jihadists used the political chaos in the country’s south to consolidate and expand their hold in the country’s north. Should foreign powers leave, Islamic jihadist groups (some of which are aligned with Al Qaeda and ISIS) would gain an even stronger foothold in the country and be able to expand throughout the Sahel, as would the illicit narcotics, arms and human trade. While France has called for Keita’s release (reports state that he’s been allowed to return home), it has not demanded his return as president; for Paris, the primary concerns going forward are the welfare of the people of Mali and the continued battle against Islamic fanaticism.
The One Thing to Say About It on a Zoom Call:
When we talk about the lack of global leadership and the G-Zero, we tend to talk about great power rivalries (like U.S. vs. China) or big macro issues (like trade and tech wars). But Mali demonstrates how the G-Zero affects countries at the individual level. While the international community earnestly wants to help the country both for its own sake and beat back the threat posed by Islamic militants, no one wants to commit the resources or take primary ownership of the situation; 5,000 French troops won’t turn the tide against jihadists or provide the long-term stability Mali needs to right itself. Which means Mali is left to fend for itself.
The One Thing to Avoid Saying About It:
I miss the days when coups dominated international headlines. Simpler times, those.
By the time the school year ended this spring, Clara Obermeier knew remote learning was not a good option for her two children. Her 13-year-old daughter had grown withdrawn after going months without seeing her friends. Her 11-year-old son had struggled academically, and due to a Zoom glitch, was frequently blocked from the virtual breakout rooms where the rest of his classmates were assigned to work in small groups. And neither Obermeier, an engineer, nor her husband, an active-duty officer in the U.S. Coast Guard, have jobs that will allow them to work from home full-time this fall.
“I waited and waited to figure out what the plan was from the school system,” Obermeier says. On July 21, Montgomery County Public Schools in Maryland announced that the district would offer virtual-only instruction at least through January. “At that point, we were like, OK, this is definitely not going to work out for us,” she says.
So Obermeier pulled her children from the public school district and enrolled them in St. Bartholomew School, a private Catholic school in Bethesda, Md., that charges $13,600 in tuition and is planning to bring all students back to campus by Sept. 21 after a phased reopening beginning Sept. 8.
Courtesy of Clara ObermeierClara Obermeier stands with her husband, Dave, her daughter, Ana Lucia, and her son, Joe.
Such decisions are playing out across the countryahead of the first day of school, as districts announce reopening plans and individual families craft ad-hoc solutions in preparation for what will be, at best,an unusual school schedule. But the solutions available to wealthier families — from private schools to pricey learning pods — have highlighted the ways the pandemic is exacerbating educational inequities. While many students struggled through the spring to access the most basic remote learning opportunities, often without home Internet service and computers, others had the benefit of private tutors or all-day virtual instruction provided by their schools.
“Schools are highly unequal. But the ability of families to provide education is even more unequal,” says Richard Kahlenberg, director of K-12 equity at The Century Foundation, a progressive think tank.
That’s a fact acknowledged even by parents who can afford private tutoring or private school for their children, and who struggle with the question of how to help their own kids without exacerbating educational inequity. Mayssoun Bydon, the managing partner at the Institute for Higher Learning, which offers test prep and admissions consulting, expects the coming school year to reveal an educational divide “like we’ve never seen before.” And yet, Bydon hired a private tutor for her own son, who attends a private school. “I felt like I couldn’t afford to just fail him personally,” she says.
Fall reopening plans vary widely among schools. About half of the country’s public school districts are planning on full in-person instruction, but 41% of the highest-poverty districts are beginning the year with entirely remote learning,according to an analysisby the Center on Reinventing Public Education. That means many of the students who are most likely to need the academic, social and emotional support of in-person instruction won’t receive it.
As of late July, 40% of private schools were planning on full in-person reopening, 19% were preparing for entirely virtual instruction, and 41% were offering a mix of both, according to a survey by the National Association of Independent Schools, which represents 1,600 private schools across the U.S.
<strong>“Schools are highly unequal. But the ability of families to provide education is even more unequal.”</strong>Many of the private schools that are planning to bring students back for in-person learning have the advantage of small class sizes and large outdoor spaces that make social distancing easier, in addition to endowments and donations that have made it possible to upgrade air filtration systems, revamp nurses’ offices, set up tented classrooms outside, secure COVID-19 testing and hire more staff.
In Brooklyn, Poly Prep Country Day School— a 166-year-old private school where families pay as much as $53,000 in tuition and fees — will reopen for in-person learning on Sept. 8, setting up 70 “socially distanced tents” across its 25-acre campus. Younger students will be divided into pods that will be kept separate from one another, and the average lower-school class size has shrunk to 12 students. The school will require a negative COVID-19 test for everyone returning to school, and one family’s anonymous donation will cover testing costs for faculty.
At Boston Trinity Academy, a pop-up on the school’s website asks visitors for patience “as we are experiencing an unusually high number of applications.” Compared to a typical summer, the small Christian school saw a 40% increase in applications this summer, mostly from public school families. But social distancing requirements led the school to cap some classes at nine or 12 students, limiting how many new students they can accept. Admissions Director Bisi Oloko said the school’s seventh grade was full, but two students transferring there from other schools were willing to repeat sixth grade to get a spot at Boston Trinity. Boston Public Schools, a district that serves more than 53,000 students across 125 schools, will begin the year remotely until Oct. 1, when the district plans to begin a hybrid model. Boston Trinity Academy, which enrolls about 230 students at a tuition rate of $20,700, will begin classes in person on Sept. 8, with about 10% of students choosing a virtual option instead.
“There are disgruntled parents out there,” says Headmaster Frank Guerra. “There are people who felt like their school systems let them down, and their kids were almost like on a three-month vacation, and that’s devastating.”
That’s why, for parents who can afford it, private schools with unique reopening plans have become an attractive solution.
Roxana Reid, founder of the New York City educational consulting firm Smart City Kids Inc, saw a “ridiculous uptick” in business beginning in June, as she heard from families looking to transfer from public to private schools. Bydon, of the Institute for Higher Learning, has seen a 38% increase in her business since March as parents seek private tutors or ask the company to develop personal curricula for their children.
The experience has left Bydon worried about the growing divide between students at elite private schools and those at underfunded public schools.
“We’re going to end up with a real educational divide between the haves and the have-nots and without a way to reverse it,” Bydon says. “Who’s going to fail are the kids who don’t have the money.”
But Bydon, who lives in New York City, can also relate to her clients who have sought out expensive help for their kids. When schools shut down in March, her son was in kindergarten and had just been learning to read, so she hired a private tutor to make sure he didn’t fall behind. “Nobody imagined that there was going to be another full academic year of this,” she says.
Melody Yazdani PhotographyColleen Ganjian with her husband, Ali, her daughter, Caroline, and her son, James.
In Vienna, Va., Colleen Ganjian withdrew her daughter from Fairfax County Public Schools after the district announced it would begin the school year remotely, enrolling her in a private Catholic school instead.
“I just want her to have consistency,” says Ganjian, an educational consultant and founder of DC College Counseling. “The bottom line is I am so busy. I own a business, and I can’t be that person. I can’t provide her with the consistency that she needs. That’s kind of why I feel I needed to look for an alternative.”
On Aug. 26, she dropped her daughter off at her new school “bright and early” for the first day of third grade, in person and wearing a mask. “I think she was excited to just get out of the house,” Ganjian says.
Exacerbating inequity
The role of private schools has become a hot button issue within the contentious debate over whether it’s safe to send kids back to class. President Donald Trump hascalled on public schools to fully reopen in person, and if they don’t, he said school funding “should follow students so parents can send their child to the private, charter, religious or home school of their choice.” Education Secretary Betsy DeVos issued a rule for more coronavirus relief funding to be directed to private schools, prompting lawsuits from states and school districts in response.
On July 31, Montgomery County Health Officer Dr. Travis Gayles issued an order directing all non-public schools to remain closed for in-person instruction until at least Oct. 1, saying “at this point the data does not suggest that in-person instruction is safe for students or teachers.” That prompted backlash from private school parents. Many of them signedpetitions, arguing that private and parochial schools should be allowed to develop plans in line with CDC and state guidance “without arbitrary and capricious interference from county officials.”
Obermeier was one of several parents who sued the county to reverse Gayles’s decision.The lawsuit argued that private schools had spent time and “millions of dollars” to ensure safe environments for children and staff, and it accused Gayles of being driven more by concerns over equity than public health.
“It appears to be a political response, an answer to complaints by some public school parents about ‘why their schools are closed and private schools are not,'” the lawsuit stated.
Maryland Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican, issued an executive order overruling the county’s directive, giving school districts and private schools across the state the authority to decide when and how to reopen. (An attorney representing the parents said their lawsuit has not been dismissed but that they’re focusing on “promoting collaboration between Montgomery County and nonpublic schools.”) While all public school districts in Maryland are beginning the year virtually, Hogan encouraged schools to reopen in person, announcing on Aug. 27 that all districts had met state benchmarks to offer some in-person instruction.
In California, Gov. Gavin Newsom, a Democrat, announced that any school—public or private— in a county on the state’s coronavirus watchlist cannot reopen in-person. But schools can apply for waivers to reopen early for kindergarten through sixth grade. Informal surveys by the California Association of Independent Schools (CAIS) found that “most CAIS schools that include grades K-6 are keen to re-open on campus” and many have applied for waivers. The association said it believes that “on-campus schooling is better for kids than distance learning, provided it can be done safely.”
It’s not yet clear whether families are withdrawing from public schools in significant numbers. A survey by the National Association of Independent Schools conducted in August found that 51% of private schools either maintained or grew enrollment for the coming school year, and 58% reported a “larger than average” number of admission inquiries from families in other types of schools — a category that could include traditional public schools, charter schools and parochial schools. Some private schools have also faced financial challenges during the pandemic, reporting a drop in international student enrollment and fewer fundraising opportunities. More than 100 private schools — mostly private Catholic schools — have permanently closed this year because of pandemic-related challenges, according to the libertarian Cato Institute.
Education experts warn that moving children from public to private schools would have a negative effect on public schools in the long run.
“I can’t say that I fault individual parents for doing what they think is best for their own kids. But the secession of upper middle class families from public school to private school is very bad for the country and for educational equality,” Kahlenberg says.
And the very thing that is drawing some parents to private schools is also cause for concern among private school teachers. While teachers’ unions have opposed plans for in-person learning,threatening to strikeif teachers and other school staff aren’t protected, most private school teachers are not unionized and have less leverage to object to their schools’ plans.
As of Aug. 30, nearly 3,000 teachers and other employees at more than 350 private schools hadsigned two anonymous petitions, calling for their schools to pursue virtual-only instruction to protect students’ and educators’ health. In interviews with TIME, several private school teachers said they are worried about the virus spreading when in-person classes begin but fear retaliation for raising concerns about school plans.
“There may be fears around enrollment numbers dropping that are driving people to be back on campus, fears around losing families who are paying pretty enormous tuitions,” said a teacher who organized one of the petitions and who requested anonymity for fear of being fired. “At schools that can offer a robust, successful remote program, it feels irresponsible not to take that route. Our hearts go out to underfunded public schools that do not have the luxury of making this choice that many private schools can make.”
That’s something that Erica Turner has been thinking about a lot, as both a parent and an associate professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where she studies racism and inequity in educational policy. She recently published aguide for Equity in Pandemic Schooling, intended to be a resource for communities and families as they make plans for the coming school year.
When families abandon public schools and turn to private options, Turner wrote, “they undermine the schools upon which less privileged families depend,” making it harder for other students, especially low-income children of color, to get good educations. The guide encourages parents to advocate for more school funding from Congress, demand the resources to make remote learning accessible for all students—including those who are homeless or have disabilities—and keep their own children enrolled in public schools.
Obermeier, the mother in Maryland, says the issue of equity weighed heavily on her when she decided to pull her kids from public school. “It was hard to think that, ‘OK I can solve it for myself,” while many others in the district would be left without a solution, she says.
As an immigrant from Ecuador, she also worries that the challenges of this school year will disproportionately affect low-income families or immigrants who don’t speak English and who can’t easily help their children learn at home. “To me, the most equitable thing to have done was to open the schools and give priority to precisely the kids who need it,” she says.
But as more school districts fail to reopen, families will continue to find individual, if inequitable, solutions.
“In the end, we just have to make sure we have our priorities straight,” Obermeier says, “and for us right now, it’s stability and the least amount of disruption for our kids.”
It should come as no surprise to learn being stuck inside for months on end with minimal human contact is not good for your well-being. As the COVID-19 pandemic continues to disrupt any semblance of normalcy throughout the U.S. and elsewhere, many people are feeling the effects of reduced employment and other disruptions of daily life—compounded by more visible instances of targeted police brutality and racial discrimination.
If you’re stressed out, exhausted by the stream of bad news, or just fell off whatever good habits you had in 2019, here’s how you can use your mobile device to get back on track. With apps that make chores fun, simple meditation tools, or services to address your mental health issues, you can, maybe, better prepare yourself for whatever else this year has in store.
Get your sleep schedule back on track with Pzizz
Platform: iOS, Android
Pzizz
There’s a good chance you’ve got a lot on your mind right now—which means counting sheep might not cut it when it comes to getting to sleep, and staring at your phone while doomscrolling is almost certainly even worse. And while there are a handful of apps designed to track your sleep, getting one meant to help you get to bed is just as important.
Pzizz is a sleep app that uses audio cues based on sleep research to help you fall asleep. It uses a mixture of speech, music, and audio to get you relaxed and prime your body for some down time, be it for a few minutes or a whole night. You can adjust the mix as well, leaning toward a more talkative or musical sleep aid for the allotted time period. Subscribing to the premium version of the app nets you access to a wider variety of sounds and guided sleep experiences.
Gamify your routines with Habitica
Platform: iOS, Android, Web
Habitica
If you need a little motivation to get done what you need to get done on a daily basis, and don’t mind adding a little fantastical vibe to the mix, try out Habitica, a task management and to-do list service that gamifies the work you accomplish. You create an RPG-esque character, which “defeats enemies” and levels up whenever you confirm that you’ve accomplished on of your IRL tasks—whether those are daily activities, errands to run, or habits to build.You can play by yourself or team up with friends for a more social element (and to add accountability to the mix); in either case, you can obtain prizes and gear for your fictional avatar by checking off boxes on your to-do list.
Reflect for a moment with Enso
Platform: iOS
Enso
If you’re like me, and just want to practice sitting for a few minutes with no distractions, you should try out Enso. It’s a minimal but elegant iOS meditation app perfect for both beginning students or experienced practitioners. There are no voices to distract you, and no music to focus on or tolerate. Just set a timer, hit start, and wait until it runs out.
You can customize your session with multiple bells to signify prep time, sitting time, and intervals for those engaging in a more advanced meditation practice.Buying Enso’s $2.99 pro version will net you some much-needed features, like Apple Health integration, an in-app audio player for custom meditation tunes, and extra alert tones you can pick to ease yourself in and out of your sitting practice.
For some good bedtime white noise, use Dark Noise
Platform: iOS
Dark Noise
Trying to read a book or focus on some work while the outside world honks, shouts, and distracts is no fun. That’s why white noise is so useful, drowning out other sounds with a more predictable, familiar tone. That’s what Dark Noise is for.
The app features a wide array of sounds, from white, brown, pink, and grey noises, to heavy rains and waterfalls, crickets, wind chimes, and coffee shops. With such a selection, you’re sure to find a noise to keep you distracted, focused, or drowsy—whatever you need. And there’s a timer, so you can have the app shut down on its own after you finish work (or fall asleep).
Talk to someone with BetterHelp
Platform: iOS, Android, Web
Betterhelp
Everyone needs someone to talk to—especially now. With in-person therapy currently out of reach for many thanks to the coronavirus, those seeking mental-health treatment might want to consider BetterHelp. Using the app, you can speak to a licensed psychologist or counselor via text, phone, or video. With no insurance necessary, pricing ranges from $40 to $70 per month, and there are over 10,000 therapists and counselors—all with over three years of therapy experience—to choose from (you’ll take a quiz to see which one is the best fit for you).
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Ever since Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren dropped out of the Democratic presidential primary, the progressive movement has been in a state of flux. It had money and momentum, but no presidential candidate.
So in the months since Joe Biden cinched the nomination, progressives have pivoted to down-ballot elections, using their energy and cash to protect territory won in 2018 and support new progressive candidates targeting entrenched Democratic incumbents. They’re out to prove that the party’s left wing is still powerful—and much of the evidence supports their case. In recent months, three of the members of the progressive “Squad”—Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib—all beat back primary challenges, while progressive candidates like Jamaal Bowman and Mondaire Jones in New York, Cori Bush in Missouri, Marie Newman in Illinois and Kara Eastman in Nebraska all won competitive primaries.
The next test of this new, young progressive vanguard comes Tuesday in Massachusetts, where Alex Morse, the 31-year old mayor of Holyoke, Mass., is trying to unseat Rep. Richard Neal, chair of the powerful Ways & Means Committee. Like Bowman, Bush, Eastman and Newman, Morse is backed by Justice Democrats, a progressive group that supported Sanders’ campaign and has increasingly turned to promoting the next generation of grassroots insurgents.
“Bernie represented voters under 45 ideologically,” says Justice Democrats communications director Waleed Shahid. “These candidates represent them ideologically and demographically too. It’s a transition happening.”
Progressives say that defeating Neal would be the most consequential primary win since Ocasio-Cortez beat Joe Crowley, who was then the chair of the House Democratic caucus. Neal helms a powerful tax-writing committee, and Morse has spent much of his campaign arguing Neal’s position makes him a crucial impediment to key legislative priorities like Medicare for All or a Green New Deal. Morse recently hit $2 million in fundraising, with $1 million raised in August alone; 97% of those donations under $200.
“This is a race that’s arguably the most important Democratic primary in the House this year,” Morse says. “Every major piece of legislation needs to go through the Ways and Means committee.” Neal’s office did not immediately return a request for comment.
The race has been fraught with drama. In August, the University of Massachusetts, Amherst chapter of the College Democrats published vague allegations that Morse—a former guest lecturer at the school—had made students uncomfortable by messaging them on social media. Morse, who is gay, acknowledged having consensual adult relationships with college students but never any that he taught, and apologized for making anyone uncomfortable.
At first, the allegations made it seem like Morse was toast. But the tables turned when The Intercept reported that members of the College Democrats had spent months engineering the allegations to damage Morse’s campaign. (Chat logs reviewed by The Intercept revealed that at least one member of the College Democrats took part in the scheme because he sought an internship with Neal.) What seemed at first to be a downward spiral for a promising young progressive morphed into evidence of an establishment plot to destroy him.
Polling in the race has been scarce since that unlikely turn of events. But if Morse wins, it could be the most important progressive upset since Ocasio-Cortez’s victory—and further evidence of a movement that’s growing its power and sharpening its strategy.
Adolf Hitler did not have to come to power. Indeed, during his 13-year quest for leadership of Germany, he almost failed many times.
In the end, however, his astonishing success showed how demagoguery could overcome potentially career-ending challenges—and profoundly change history. A determined strongman, not taken seriously by the elites but enabled by a core of passionate supporters, could bend events his way just as his country went into free-fall. Hitler’s seemingly improbable ascent is an object lesson in the volatility of history.
While researching my new book on the radical Nazi’s rise, I was stunned at the number of times Hitler’s quest for power almost came to an end—and how close the world came, it seems, to avoiding the terror he caused. The first was in 1923, when he staged an ill-fated coup d’état that became known as the Beer Hall Putsch. It failed within 17 hours. Twenty men were killed, and Hitler missed being hit in a barrage of police bullets by only two feet. The man next to him died. Hitler threatened suicide and, in prison, attempted a hunger strike. In the end, he stood trial and was convicted of treason.
That event should have ended Hitler’s political career. But the Nazi chief was a fanatic. Convinced of his messianic mission to save Germany from imminent downfall, he wrote an autobiographical manifesto called Mein Kampf, obtained early parole from prison and refounded the Nazi movement in 1925. Hitler’s party drew true believers and grew. Yet in 1926, he faced an internal insurrection and possible party splintering. At the last minute, he quelled the challenge with a four-hour stemwinder at a closed Nazi meeting.
A year later, the Nazi Party was broke. Hitler again considered suicide, telling his new acolyte, Joseph Goebbels, that he would rather put a bullet into his head than accept bankruptcy. He was saved by a rich industrialist, Emil Kirdorf. Motivated by a four-hour Hitler monologue delivered at a Munich mansion, Kirdorf reportedly gave the Nazi Party 100,000 marks—$350,000 in today’s money.
In 1928, Hitler led his radical band into national elections—and fell flat. Preaching doom and downfall, Hitler swam against the historical tide. Germany’s economy was rebounding. The Nazis won only 2.6% of the vote, hitting rock bottom.
Even after the Great Depression prompted a turnaround for the flailing party—by 1930, the Nazis had won 18.3% in a national election—he faced another mutiny within the party and then, in 1931, a scandal prompted by the suicide of his 23-year-old niece, Geli Raubal, who was assumed by many to be his lover. The political roller-coaster ride continued. In 1932, Hitler’s Nazis reached a peak of 37% of the parliamentary vote, but Hitler’s refusal to be part of a coalition led the party to shed two million votes in the year’s final election.
After Hitler’s top lieutenant, Gregor Strasser, dramatically defected, threatening a party break-up, the Nazi leader’s meteoric political rise seemed at an end. “It is obvious that [Hitler] is now headed downhill,” wrote a leading newspaper. “The republic has been rescued.”
Even Goebbels was devastated. “The year 1932 has been one long streak of bad luck,” he wrote. “We just have to smash it to pieces.”
But to the amazement of many, Hitler was not dead yet.
By January 1933, German politics was in a tailspin—unemployment had hit 24%, with 6 million out of work. A new government was desperately needed. After a series of clandestine meetings of behind-the-scenes political players in a posh Berlin villa, Hitler emerged as the secret choice to be appointed chancellor by President Paul von Hindenburg.
However, the secret arrangement depended on a delicately balanced, multi-party cabinet. Then, just hours before his scheduled swearing in by President Hindenburg, the Nazi leader demanded that his prospective cabinet ministers agree to new elections within six weeks—a move that would affirm the Nazis’ hold on power. It was a stunning last-second condition, yet all agreed except Alfred Hugenberg, who was to be minister of economics and agriculture. The stubborn old politician, 24 years Hitler’s senior, distrusted the noisy Nazi and did not want to give him an even freer hand.
The deal for Hitler to take power now threatened to become unraveled, yet again.
Without Hugenberg, everyone knew, there would be no cabinet, no government, no swearing-in.
As Hitler and the cabinet members entered the chancellery, where the 84-year-old Hindenburg waited for them, the president’s top aide rushed up, his pocket watch in hand. “Gentlemen, you can’t keep the president waiting any longer,” he said.
Suddenly Hugenberg, a man of the old school who revered manners, authority and age, accepted Hitler’s conditions. Hitler’s last brush with political obscurity was averted. Over the prior two decades, he had relied on luck and rhetoric to save his career time and again—but behind those factors lay, always, a larger context of German politics that enabled his rise. His speeches could head off a mutiny, but the success or failure of the German economy held more sway over the fortunes of the Nazi Party. And here, once again, was a moment when Hitler’s mania for power did not succeed alone, but instead with the help of a system that let it happen. Within 15 minutes, he had become chancellor of Germany, setting the stage for the horrors that followed.
The following day, Hugenberg told a friend: “Yesterday, I did the stupidest thing of my life. I joined forces with the greatest demagogue in world history.”
(NEW YORK) — The family of a transgender woman with epilepsy who died in an isolated cell in New York City’s Rikers Island jail complex has settled its lawsuit with the city for $5.9 million, the family’s lawyer said.
The settlement was reached Friday in the federal lawsuit over the June 7, 2019, death of Layleen Polanco. The terms of the settlement were not made public. But David Shanies, the lawyer for Polanco’s family, confirmed published reports about the settlement amount.
Shanies said in a statement Sunday that he hopes the deal means Polanco’s “wonderful and devoted family can find some small measure of peace.”
27-year-old Polanco had been in custody since April 2019, unable to post $500 bail after an assault arrest. The city medical examiner’s office ruled that Polanco’s cause of death was sudden unexplained death in epilepsy.
Polanco’s family members charged in their lawsuit that correction officers failed to check on her as she was dying, ignoring the fact that her medical condition meant she “could suffer serious injury or death without intervention.”
A city Department of Investigation report did not find evidence that officers contributed to her death but did say that she had not been checked on for the better part of an hour as she should have been in accordance with a Department of Correction policy.
The Bronx district attorney’s office declined to press criminal charges in connection to Polanco’s death, but city officials announced in June that 17 correction officers would face disciplinary action in connection with her death.
Asked to comment on the settlement of the lawsuit, a spokesperson for the New York City law department said Polanco’s death “was an absolute tragedy” and added that the city “will continue to do everything it can to make reforms towards a correction system that is fundamentally safer, fairer, and more humane.”
For people who lost jobs or income during the pandemic, life has been a series of terrifying deadlines. There was July 24, the end of a federal eviction moratorium from government-backed housing, which had protected about one-third of renters. There was July 30, when a program providing an extra $600 in weekly unemployment benefits expired, reducing the incomes of tens of millions of Americans.
Now, the beginning of September looms as yet another deadline as utility companies resume cutting power to customers who have fallen behind on their bills. In some states, moratoriums preventing them from doing so are ending, and in other states, utility company pledges to keep customers connected are winding down. Residents in Ohio, Florida, Maryland, Indiana, and Illinois are all at risk of shutoffs in early September; shutoffs can resume in late September or October in North Carolina,Tennessee and Texas.
“We’re facing a tidal wave of terminations,” says Charlie Harak, senior attorney for energy and utilities issues at the National Consumer Law Center.
There is no national account of how many customers could lose power, but there are certainly millions of people who risk disconnection at a time when people need their utilities the most. Kids need electricity to attend online classes, which will be the norm for hundreds of thousands of them as schools reopen. They need light in the evening to do homework. And in large swaths of the country facing extreme heat, life without power means no fans or air conditioning. Additionally, cutoffs can increase risks of COVID-19 infection by forcing some people to leave their homes and squeeze into cramped quarters with friends or relatives who have electrcity.
Based on data from Massachusetts, Harak estimates that as many as 10% of U.S. households are so far behind on their bills they are at risk of termination when moratoriums end. A report by Carbon Switch, an energy efficiency startup, estimates that around 34.5 million people could lose their utility shutoff protections in 14 states in the next month.
Duke Energy, which serves 7.8 million customers across seven states in the southeast and Midwest, tells TIME that 300,000 of its customers are 60 days or more behind on their gas or electric bills. In early August, Florida Power & Light Company (FPL) said that 258,000 customers were behind on payments; Tampa Electric Company said that 92,000 of its customers were behind. A public interest group said in June that 800,000 Pennsylvanians were at risk of service termination. More than 300,000 residential households in Minnesota were past due by the end of July, according to data filed with Minnesota’s Public Utilities Commission.
The impending wave of shutoffs is one more sign of how the economic measures to help Americans who lost jobs during the pandemic have fallen short. There were still 27 million Americans receiving unemployment benefits the week ending August 8, according to the latest Commerce Department data. The end of the $600 in extra weekly unemployment benefits hit many people hard, but many of the people I talked to for this story had not even received the regular unemployment benefits or stimulus checks they were due. State unemployment offices, slammed with a surge in applications and running on outdated systems, are still trying to catch up with applications and appeals. One in three families struggle to pay their utility bills in normal times; even more are falling behind because of the sudden loss of income.
Paul Hennessy—NurPhoto/Getty ImagesCars line up to receive food from the Second Harvest Food Bank of Central Florida at Carter Tabernacle Christian Methodist Episcopal Church on Aug. 8, 2020 in Orlando.
Brandy Wilcoxson, 42, a single mother in Atlanta who works as a security guard, has seen her weekly hours cut from 40 to around 13 because of the pandemic. She’s limited in the shifts she can take because her two kids, ages 14 and 10, are doing virtual learning, and she has to be home to supervise. She should qualify for unemployment benefits under the CARES Act, which allows people who are underemployed during the pandemic to collect benefits, but her benefits ended abruptly in July with no explanation, she says. Now, she owes around $1,000 in back electric bills, and when she contacted her power company to enter into a payment plan, she says she was told she would need to pay $192 a month just to catch up on her bill, in addition to whatever she’ll owe monthly going forward. It’s money that Wilcoxson, who makes $13 an hour and who struggles to cover rent and food, does not have. “It would be robbing Peter to pay Paul,” she says.
She recently learned that she may be evicted soon, so she is hesitant to pay to keep the power on if she’s just going to lose her home anyway. “My next move will be probably to hold a sign at the corner saying I have two kids, and asking for help,” Wilcoxson tells me.
The coming wave of utility shutoffs illuminates the patchwork nature of laws in the U.S. controlling access to basic necessities like water, electricity, and gas. Depending on where you live, you probably get your utilities through either a big investor-owned utility, a small municipal utility affiliated with your city or town, or a rural cooperative. State utility commissions only have authority over big, investor-owned utilities like Duke Energy or Florida Power & Light, so most state moratoriums did not cover municipal and rural cooperatives, which could proceed with shutoffs in many states.
In the wake of the pandemic, the most sweeping protections were enacted in New York state, which passed a legislative ban on utility shutoffs until early 2021. It covers investor-owned and municipal utilities, and included gas, water and phone service on top of electricity. California’s public utility commission ordered investor-owned electric and gas companies to suspend disconnections until April 2021, but that order does not include municipal power companies or rural cooperatives.
In most other states, moratoriums are winding down. “Within a few months, we’re only going to have five or six states that have moratoriums on shutoffs,” says Harak.
An Illinois stoppage of disconnections ended July 26, but many power companies volunteered to extend it until September. A Maryland ban expires Sept. 1. A ban on shutoffs by North Carolina’s utility regulator expires Sept. 1.
All of the big investor-owned utility companies pledged not to shut off power for nonpayment in early March, but many ended those moratoriums in July and August and planned to proceed with shutoffs in September after having given customers 30 days to try and catch up. A Duke Energy spokesman told TIME the company will begin shutting off customers in Ohio and Florida in September, and in North Carolina in October. Tampa Electric will also resume disconnections on Sept. 1. The Tennessee Public Utility Commission’s moratorium on disconnects ended Aug. 30, but since power companies must provide 30-day written notice of disconnects, they can’t start disconnecting until Sept. 28.
Though some moratoriums protected customers from accruing late fees, others allowed the fees to pile up, meaning some customers are going to be hit with higher-than-expected bills once they’re expected to resume payments.
Utility companies defend their decisions to resume shutoffs, saying that as long as customers know their power won’t be cut, they stop trying to make payments. As evidence, they say that calls to utility call centers went down during the pandemic, indicating customers aren’t contacting providers about working out payment plans. Adam L. Benshoff, the executive director of regulatory affairs for the Edison Electric Institute, which represents investor-owned electric companies, says this means customers will continue racking up bills that they may not be able to pay.
“The moratorium is having some unintended consequences that are placing customers in a worse spot long term,” says Benshoff. (Jean Su, the director of the Energy Justice Program at the Center for Biological Diversity, which is advocating for a nationwide moratorium, calls the idea that people are choosing not to pay “a red herring,” and says there is no evidence people who can pay their bills stop doing so because of moratoriums.)
It’s not just consumers who are struggling, according to the American Public Power Association, which represents 2,000 public power utilities serving 49 million people, or about 15% of U.S. utility customers. Some small nonprofit utilities saw revenues drop as factories shut down and as consumers fell behind on bills, APPA says. It estimates that member revenues are down $5 billion in 2020. One small nonprofit utility provider, the town of Elizabeth City, in North Carolina, said in June that it was facing insolvency and was granted a waiver from the state’s ban on shutoffs. APPA has asked Congress for forgivable loans for members affected by the pandemic.
Bigger utility companies say they also are hurting because they’re getting less money from non-residential customers like office buildings and factories, so they need to push consumers to start paying their bills again. “At some point, you do have to return to normal billing operations for business reasons,” said Neil Nissan, a spokesman for Duke Energy. (In August, Duke reported $5.4 billion in revenues for the three months ending June 30, 2020 and earnings per share of $1.08 for the quarter.)
Lucy Cabrera, who is three months behind on payments to Florida Light & Power, says she’d pay if she could, but her income doesn’t cover the rent much less the power. “I just send $100 in here and there, and pray for the best,” says Cabrera, 55, who lives outside of Miami with her husband, who is disabled. Cabrera drove for Uber, Lyft, and Postmates until the pandemic began; she stopped driving because both she and her husband have health problems that put them at higher risk for contracting COVID-19.
The weekly $600 in extra unemployment benefits helped her keep up with her bills; now that has ended, her family’s only income is her husband’s monthly $578 Social Security check and her weekly $125 unemployment benefit. Her electricity bill alone is around $240 a month, powering the air conditioning that makes life tolerable during Florida’s sweltering summer months.
The pandemic has forced people struggling to pay their bills to consider something that would have seemed unthinkable a year ago; life without basic services like electricity or water. This comes at a time when people are stuck at home because of the pandemic and need these utilities more than ever. Tanya Barie, 36, who lives outside Philadelphia, realized this when her water was shut off in mid-August after she fell behind on payments following a pandemic-related job loss. She couldn’t mix formula for her baby or give her children baths. “You don’t realize how much you need it until you don’t have it,” Barie, who had a job as a florist, told me. She took her children to stay with her mother until she was able to borrow money from relatives to get the water turned on again.
Consumer advocates have urged Congress to impose a national moratorium on all utility shutoffs. “We need to be able to maintain utilities if we want to beat the virus,” says Al Ripley, the director of the consumer and housing project at the North Carolina Justice Center, an advocacy group that works on poverty issues. If people lose their power, they’ll be forced to move in with friends or family, increasing the risk of transmitting the coronavirus, Ripley says. The HEROES Act, passed by the U.S. House of Representatives in May, included a moratorium on disconnection of water and home energy for nonpayment, but it did not have support in the Senate.
There is some federal funding available for people who fall behind on utility bills. The CARES Act, signed into law in March, provided an extra $900 million for the Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program, or LIHEAP, which helps families pay their energy bills. But most consumers don’t know how to access LIHEAP money, which is usually distributed through community organizations or state agencies, and besides, that money is quickly running out. Some energy companies also offer programs that allow customers who can pay their bills to round up and donate to help pay the bills of those that can’t. California’s public utility commission said recently it would test a program that would cap bills at a percentage of income customers can afford to pay.
That so many Americans are falling behind on utilities has future implications for everyone. With revenues down, many utility companies will likely raise rates to recoup lost payments. Some already are trying. In Indiana, 10 electric and natural gas companies in June asked regulators to let them raise rates because of lost income due to the pandemic; their request was denied. Citing “the threat posed by the coronavirus pandemic” and volatility in capital markets, Appalachian Power in Virginia, has asked regulators to let it raise rates 6.5%. (The request has not yet been approved; the Attorney General’s office called it “unconscionable” in a filing.) Indiana’s utility regulatory agency approved Duke Energy’s request for a rate increase in June of this year. Duke is also asking North Carolina’s utility commission for permission to raise rates to account for costs associated with the pandemic. Utility commissions in 33 states are tracking how utility companies’ finances are hit by the pandemic, in order to potentially help them make up the revenue.
Higher rates raise bills for everybody but would put a greater burden on low-income families, who devote three times as much of their income to energy costs as do higher-income households. A June survey of low-income households by researchers at Indiana University found that 22% of respondents had to forgo or reduce household needs like medicine or food to pay their energy bill; 4% of those surveyed had already had their service disconnected. People of color who have been hardest hit by the pandemic may also be the same people who lose their power because of non-payment, elevating their health risks.
Of course, there are some states that are continuing to prevent shutoffs, acknowledging that the coronavirus pandemic is continuing and that economic opportunities are few and far between. Wisconsin’s utility commission voted to extend its moratorium on utility disconnections until October 1; Virginia’s utility regulator extended its ban on shutoffs from Aug. 31 to Sept. 15; Massachusetts extended its moratorium from Aug. 31 to Nov. 15. This may help people through the winter, since many states prohibit shutoffs during cold winter months, or if the temperature falls below freezing.
It won’t help people whose landlords are using utility shutoffs on people behind on the rent, in an effort to force them to move. Lawyers say this is happening more frequently as property owners look for ways around eviction moratoriums that remain in effect in some places.
Anallive Calle, 32, who is eight months pregnant and has two young children, lives in Miami, where landlords are not able to take “final action” and evict people for nonpayment if the tenant can show they have been affected by the pandemic. Still, Calle says her family has been without power for a week. Calle lost hours at her job at a salon when the pandemic hit, and her husband is temporarily disabled with a foot injury. They fell behind on their rent, but Calle says they were paying what they could. Then one morning, they woke up sweating to find their air conditioner no longer working. The landlord had cut the power, which was included with their rent.
All the food in the refrigerator spoiled, and since Calle cannot cook without power, she’s feeding the children crackers and other non-perishable food. Her kids don’t understand why it’s so hot in their apartment or why they can’t watch anything on their tablet. She doesn’t know how she’s going to bring an infant into the house in this situation. “It’s basically like living in the street,” she says.
Calle has applied for what government assistance is available but says she never received her $1,200 stimulus check or any unemployment benefits. When she’s gone to seek assistance, Calle says there is always a long line of people ahead of her, also looking for help.
