We The People: One Student’s Stand for Equity in Education
Written in October 2020
“We the people of Tent City have the right and responsibility to reform and abolish an imperfect union.” Student activist Aniyah Vines is speaking to a small crowd gathered in Southwest DC. Dressed in all black, the white “Tent City” text on her sweatshirt reflects the distant streaks of streetlights across the courtyard. Her preamble rings out through a bullhorn late Wednesday night and the crowd passionately recites their new constitution.
“We will demand justice for the black and brown community through the lens of education. We provide protection for our own, promote the revolution, and remind America that we built you and will burn you down unless changes are made.”
This concludes day three of Aniyah’s latest initiative, Tent City, a live-in demonstration pitched outside the Department of Education (DOE). Usually, the federal building isn’t much to look at. It’s just one of many blocks of greige and glass that line the streets of the district. On an average day, most of us would walk right past and give no thought to the billions of dollars being allocated within its walls. But Aniyah and her student coalition are here to make sure that we’re paying attention.
A cluster of camping tents are arranged in an arc, creating the circle for tonight’s round-table discussion. For the past few hours, the group of thirty or so twenty-somethings have been discussing inequity in education. One-by-one each person shared their personal experiences with school and slowly new neighbors became comrades — bonded through intimate stories of disappointment deepened into disillusion and now propelled into action.
The group has outlined demands written on the painted pieces of plywood that serve as their makeshift front gate. They don’t plan to leave the DOE until they’ve met with the Secretary of Education to discuss their calls to action which include the cancellation of all student loan debt, establishing an abolition force to eradicate systemic racism in education and the creation of a safe national public school COVID-19 reopening plan.
It’s a hefty charge to unpack. I’m afraid that after a long day of scheduled events on top of all the mayoral responsibilities that come with running the tent city like managing logistics, fielding the press, and welcoming new members, that Aniyah will be too tired to speak with me. But when I sheepishly ask her if she’s still up to chat, I’m met with bright eyes, a warm smile, and the calm demeanor of someone who’s used to being in demand.
As we walk away from the camp to find a quiet place to chat, Aniyah is stopped no less than three times to answer questions or greet friends who’ve just arrived for dinner & game night. Her amber colored natural hair is tucked under a black cap and she adjusts its brim when she’s thinking, taking the time to be thoughtful in her instruction. When she finally speaks, it’s with the deftness of natural born leader and the cadence of her voice matches the controlled pace of her walk. She’s moving forward but never in a rush, always leaving space for those around her to catch up or chime in.
Though only 20-years-old, the Howard University junior is a seasoned organizer. During high school in Charlotte, NC, Aniyah started a mentorship program at a juvenile detention center that paired young men with a successful mentor who served and surmounted the exact charge each juvenile was serving. When she arrived at Howard, she continued her criminal justice work under the instruction of Dr. Bahiyyah Muhammad, a pioneering professor of criminology who teaches classes in the D.C. Jail for both university students and incarcerated citizens. Aniyah went on to work with Dr. Muhammad as the co-director of Howard’s 2019 alternative spring break that took students on a 3-day intensive inside the jail. She also currently serves as Howard’s NAACP Education Committee Chairwoman and since the murder of George Floyd has been organizing weekly direct actions with the Palm Collective, a grassroots activist group.
Aniyah rattles off this impressive list with confident ease, but when I ask her about how and why she got into activism her pace slows and her tone softens.
“It’s crazy because whenever I say it, it blows me away how long it’s been…In 2016 my cousin, Delrawn Smalls, was murdered by an off-duty police officer. That struck a passion in me. The fact that it happened to him made it personal — I watched it. There was footage of the murder and the cop got off.”
Delrawn was driving home with his girlfriend and two children the night of July 4 when got he into a traffic dispute with Wayne Issacs, an off-duty officer. Surveillance footage shows an unarmed Delrawn get out of his car and approach Issacs at a Brooklyn intersection. The officer claimed that Delrawn punched him through the open window and he responded by shooting him three times in self-defense. The alleged punch is not seen in the video.
The following day on July 5, Alton Sterling was killed by the police while selling CDs outside of a convenience store in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The very next day on July 6, Philando Castille was fatally shot at a traffic stop in St. Anthony, Minnesota after disclosing that he had a licensed weapon in the vehicle. His girlfriend, who was in the car along with her young daughter, went live on Facebook immediately after he was shot. The harrowing footage of both shootings flooded the national news cycle.
Delwran’s story was eclipsed by the more visually damning deaths of Castille and Sterling. The New York Times covered the story through Isaac’s acquittal in 2017, but Aniyah’s family has never stopped fighting for justice. In fact, according to Communities United for Police Reform, just last week the NYC Civilian Complaint Review Board substantiated the excessive force claim against Isaacs in Delrawn’s case. The family is now once again calling for the immediate firing of Isaacs who returned to active duty after his acquittal.
This summer’s series of protests must have influenced the re-evaluation of his case. For Aniyah, there’s definitely a connection: “When George Floyd was murdered, it felt as if my cousin died all over again.”
The conversation about police reform has advanced considerably throughout 2020. The progressive call for defunding the police, an idea that was relatively fringe until this year, has taken center stage during the election cycle. Aniyah identifies as an abolitionist and has been quite literally on the front lines, but she’s now hoping to push the BLM conversation even further:
“Many people are misled and believe that Black Lives Matter simply means stop killing us. That’s the bare minimum that you can do — it entails Black Education Matters, Black Health Care Matters, Black Housing Matters. You have to invest in black people”
Some of the Tent City demands are straight forward. A Pell Grant increase has long been discussed by advocates for HBCUs. According to the National College Attainment Network, a nonprofit organization committed to equity in secondary education, the purchasing power of the grant has dropped considerably since its creation in 1972 when it covered on average over 75% of a low-income students’ total college costs including tuition and room & board. As it’s appropriated today at a maximum of $6,354, at best a Pell Grant covers less than 30% of the average undergraduate cost per year. A 300% increase would lift a considerable financial burden for the many black and brown students at both HBCUs and PWIs (Predominantly White Institutions).
Other demands, like creating a nationwide high school to HBCU pathway, seem more nebulous at first glance. But Aniyah, as always, is hammering out the details. A part of Wednesday night’s Tent City discussion is brainstorming ideas about how to improve the glaring gaps in public school curriculum most recently laid bare by the New York Times 1619 Project. She suggests mandating an African diaspora studies class as a requirement nationwide. Murmurs of affirmation rumble through the circle and Jason, one of the white residents of Tent City, speaks up.
“James Baldwin is my favorite author,” he says to the group. “In my opinion the greatest author in the history of this country, and I was never once assigned a James Baldwin document of any kind. The fact that we’re not talking about him in the same vein as all the other great white authors is a travesty.”
He goes on to list Stokely Carmichael, Fred Hampton, Huey P. Newton, Marsha P. Johnson as American heroes who he’s just discovered in the past 5 years. The city erupts in snaps of agreement and Aniyah nods gravely as she grabs the bullhorn. When she reaches the second half of the preamble, her tenor vibrates with the weight of the moment.
“We need black kids to know their power. Education is key to build strong towers. To lead the future by knowing the past. Our generation will be the last to live any less than what we deserve. We fight for us. We will be heard.”
