Category: Uncategorized

When Tonja Myles looked around her community and saw the people struggling with substance issues, she couldn’t help but see herself. Sharing the trauma with many of the people that she serves, Tonja is perfectly positioned to advocate for people suffering with substance abuse. 

She struggled with PTSD after years of unhealed trauma related to the sexual violence she experienced as a child and physical violence in adolescence.. Throughout the years she abused substances to numb the pain of her past, while people around her told her to “go to church and get her life right.” “My issues were swept under the rug,” she said. At her lowest point, she said she looked to God and promised to use her experience to help others.

Now, almost 38 years in recovery, Tonja has used her story to place her in rooms she normally wouldn’t be in. She uses the tagline “from the crack house to the White House” to show her journey from her lowest point to her partnership years ago with the Bush Administration concerning addiction. 

“Sometimes I’m the only Black person in the room, or the only woman in the room,” she said. She uses these opportunities to uplift the stories of those that aren’t in the room. “I appreciate the spaces I’m in, but I speak for the people that don’t have a voice.” She makes it a point to speak truth to power and be the most passionate person in those conversations.

Tonja started Set Free Addiction Services because people struggling with substance abuse in Baton Rouge needed “wrap around” services. Seeing a lack of support for this community, Tonja started serving on Fridays out of her own house. Now, she has the structure to support people and their families along the road to recovery. Set Free even helps to hold our justice system accountable for their role in substance abuse, by fostering relationships with police officers and faith leaders.

The city is still recovering from 2016, when three traumatic events overwhelmed the community. It started when police officers murdered Alton Sterling in the parking lot of a corner store, an incident that was caught on camera. Days later, as the city wrestled with tension, a gunman killed three police officers and wounded nine others in a horrifying response. Then, to make matters worse, a historic hurricane hit Louisiana. 

Despite these awful episodes and the continued accrual of trauma that Baton Rouge citizens experience, Tonja is optimistic about the future of the city. 

She has a long working relationship with the city’s mayor-president for over 30 years, and she works closely with the police chief. Tonja said they know about the importance of healing from trauma, a critical view for any city official to have. 

She said, however, “we can’t police people into non-violence,” in response to the outrage and frustration that community members had from the trauma of witnessing a Black man murdered by the police. Tonja believes change in Baton Rouge starts with the community. As long as the work is being done, she is confident that they’ll make a difference.

As a Trauma and Healing Network member, Tonja said she’ll bring some much needed comedic relief. “The work we do is hard and we need a laugh,” she said. She’s excited for the comradery and the collaboration that the network will bring. She wants to bring more awareness about mental health and substance abuse. In her words, she’s thrilled about “being a part of a team to help save lives.” Tonja has been saving her own life for 38 years now, and she doesn’t want others to have to go it alone.

I recently participated in the launch of a book to which I had contributed. The book, ”When You Hear Me, You Hear Us,” is a collection of poems and essays on youth incarceration and justice. Most of the authors are brilliant young people.

The Free Minds Book Club & Writing Workshop put the book together and interviewed me in 2020 for my piece. Naturally, I wanted to reread it before the virtual event, and when I did, I was shocked.

The interview happened months before I’d ever heard of EJUSA, before I had talked with the team or our board. Yet in telling my story, I was already anticipating a different system and a vision for that system that redefined what justice could and must be:

There’s a lot of harm done to people before they (cause violence). So I do hope, at least, that there’s some softening around how do we really get justice, and how do we define it differently, and how do we truly center the needs of survivors and victims in ways the traditional system hasn’t? So that we can meet this moment where, as a country, we’re reckoning with issues of race in ways that we haven’t before.

Revisiting my story, I remembered the excitement I felt as I explored EJUSA’s vision for the first time. I recognized that it was the foundation for building something new and better, a system that could deliver healing and safety after harm — exactly what my family needed after my father was assaulted many years ago.

I also thought about the definition of justice. I love that EJUSA has asked and answered an essential question…What is Justice?

If you appreciate literature and need some inspiration, I encourage you to buy “When You Hear Me, You Hear Us.” Our young people have something important to say.

NAE President praises Sam Heath for his “commitments to justice”

Sam Heath of Charlottesville, Virginia, has been appointed the new manager of the EJUSA
Evangelical Network, a platform for faith leaders across the political spectrum who seek to
transform the justice system by promoting responses to violence that are rooted in the values of
racial equity, redemption and healing.

Heath, an educator by profession, is an elder at Trinity Presbytery Church (PCA) in
Charlottesville where he has been the coordinator of major educational conferences, including
Race: Unity in Diversity, which came in the wake of the so-called Unite the Right Rally in 2017.
He also founded and co-chairs a Multiethnicity Ministry Team tasked with helping move Trinity
to be an increasingly multi-ethnic organization in both its color and culture.

“I learned about the failures of the criminal justice system firsthand by visiting, over many years,
a close friend who was imprisoned,” Heath said. “That experience, combined with a growing
understanding of the true story of race in this country and the realization that the system
mistakenly values retribution over restoration, triggered an overwhelming desire to do this work.”

Heath has worked closely with Rev. Dr. Walter Kim, former Pastor for Leadership at Trinity
Presbyterian Church (PCA) who is also president of the National Association of Evangelicals.

“It is clear that Sam’s commitments to justice arise out of a deep love for Jesus and for others,”
Rev. Kim said. “He is keenly aware of the magnificent opportunities, as well as the persistent
obstacles, that some segments of evangelicalism have with matters of social justice. I trust Sam
for this work at this critical juncture in evangelicalism.”

Jamila Hodge, executive director of Equal Justice USA, the Evangelical Network’s parent
organization, also believes Heath’s arrival comes at the right time.

“Sam is a leader among the growing number of evangelicals who want a justice system that
reflects their belief that every person has immeasurable value and that every individual should
be treated with respect and dignity,” Hodge said. “Sam’s deep personal faith and commitment to
racial justice and agape love makes him the perfect person to lead this important work and
expand the Evangelical Network as a platform for those who want to build the solutions that
deliver healing and equity to all people.”

Sateria Tate-Alexander brought her project manager background into her community work in Baton Rouge. Her gift is identifying gaps within frameworks and creating strategic solutions to meet community needs. 

Sateria founded A.G.I.L.E., A Galvanized and Innovative approach to Leading with Excellence, in 2016 as Baton Rouge was trying to heal from the murder of Alton Sterling, the murder of three police officers, and a local flood categorized as a 100-year flood. 

After recognizing that the community at large and local organizations were struggling to effectively meet needs, she helped create an ecosystem through A.G.I.L.E. to facilitate connectedness among community, nonprofits, and service providers. 

Through her connection with EJUSA Trauma & Healing Network, she is using our work in Newark as a template for the recently launched Baton Rouge Community Street Team. We sat down with her to discuss her journey. 

EJUSA: How did you come to this work, from a personal perspective?

Sateria: I’m a lifelong resident of Baton Rouge. So over the years, I’ve seen every single problem. I’m also a mother, grandmother, and wife. I have two adult sons, a grandson, and a husband. It may sound cliche to hear a Black woman say she’s fearful for her Black son to leave home, but it’s a true fear. The threat doesn’t just come from a single place.  They are susceptible to many facets of violence. We often focus on violence from law enforcement when the truth is violence can be experienced anywhere at any time by simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Our city has experienced an uptick in violence, as many have globally. This is unfortunate and has been contributing to increased trauma experienced by ALL of us. To be honest, what made me really become active was Alton Sterling’s death. I saw and felt what his family and we as a community went through. It moved me to do more after seeing how hurt the community was. It motivated me to engage on a new level. I started to see those gaps. The day I became firmly engaged was July 7, 2016. My family went to a demonstration, and I realized that there was no one there to deal with the heightened emotions. As a community we were hurting, and there was no space for us to deal with that.

EJUSA: As someone coming into this work as a project manager, what were the gaps that you saw that made you found A.G.I.L.E.?

Sateria: Cohesiveness and long-term vision and strategy. In Baton Rouge people seem to work in silos. There’s a lot of redundancy in services, and collaboration could make those services and efforts stronger. A part of A.G.I.L.E.’s framework is to help develop this ecosystem in the community and make those connections.

Another gap was funding. Most of, if not all of the grassroots in Baton Rouge were self-funded or not funded at all. So, it’s “sweat of the brow” work. AGILE’s approach allows us to be more proactive with funding solutions to our community’s needs.

EJUSA: Tell us about the ecosystem that surrounds the Baton Rouge Community Street Team (B.R.C.S.T.)?

Sateria: It’s a part of a larger coalition initiative that our mayor-president has spearheaded. The project at large is Safe, Hopeful, Healthy. There are a lot of major components that feed into this initiative. We have a community roundtable, My Brother’s Keeper initiative, and several other organizations that are feeding into this project. Our mission and goals interconnect with each other and with some of the local resources that we have in the city.

The street team is being managed by A.G.I.LE. Our team is currently comprised of eight members who are intimately connected to the communities that we operate within. We currently have a program director, three community navigators that manage caseloads, and four high-risk interventionists that provide boots-on-the-ground violence intervention/prevention services. We are expecting this impact of this ecosystem to influence growth that will allow our outreach to expand to additional areas.

The funding comes from a combination of places. Our current mayor-president’s administration is one of them, along with a small network of contributors to this initiative.

EJUSA: How was your experience visiting Newark, NJ, seeing our Violence Reduction Initiative (VRI) work there, and using it as inspiration to form a team in Baton Rouge?

Sateria: That visit put a lot of things in context and in perspective. It showed us a blueprint. We were able to see the outcomes of the [VRI] work. We were able to see how solutions to violence could truly be developed from within the community and managed by the community. When you’re in that trauma space [referring to the trauma of 2016], you can’t see what solutions look like or feel like. And that’s where we were, here in Baton Rouge. That experience allowed us to find that space to transition.

We’ve seen, just like everyone else, the uptick in violent crimes and homicides. The time is right for this project. It engages the community to have ownership and accountability. It encourages the community to come up with solutions. I know if we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to come to Newark, and meet Mayor Baraka, the street team, and the police department, we wouldn’t have been able to formulate what we’re doing now.

EJUSA: What excites you about being involved with the Trauma & Healing Network?

Sateria: Everything! For starters, even before it was officially called a network, EJUSA was already supporting people in this way. I just want to let you know how phenomenal you all have been to us and how much you’re brought to us. I can’t even describe it.

I remember when we were first trying to figure out how we wanted to structure A.G.I.L.E. EJUSA introduced us to other organizations that were already doing similar work. It just helped to have a network of people that have walked the path that you’re walking. It helps to bring new ideas to the table that no one has ever thought of. Having a network like this in place allows people to interchange information. It’s extremely valuable to us. Not to mention, the connection to resources has been great.

This network strengthens how the members are connected with each other. And it reinforces the work that we do. There’s so many of us out here, and before now I hadn’t worked with them yet. Now, I constantly work with these organizations.

As time goes on, this network is only going to grow. It’s going to strengthen and get better

EJUSA: How does it feel to now have funding and opportunities to make your work even more possible?

Sateria: Wow. It gives a sense of hope. The reason I say that is because I feel less confined to the limits of funding and the politics of nonprofits. I feel like this work can happen. Capacity can be built. We’re now in a position to have access to resources. And quite frankly, these were resources we didn’t even know existed before now. So, if I had to pick a work it would be — empowering. That’s how it feels.

I can’t tell you how excited and honored I am to be in this seat and in community with you for the first time. It has only been a short time at this point, but the energy and passion from the amazing EJUSA team about the work is inspiring.

We can’t do this important work alone. Will you forward this piece to one friend or family member you think is hungry for a new justice system?

Some of you may have already learned a little bit about me, but I want to be clear about how I come into this work:

…I am the daughter of a survivor of violence…

…I am the sister of a Black man who was ensnared in our system of mass incarceration…

…I am a former prosecutor who ultimately recognized that our current justice system is a machine of harm that simply needs to be replaced…

…Perhaps most importantly, I am a mother to two young girls who deserve to live in a world where violence is rare, where they are safe, where they can thrive free of racial oppression.

I took this role because the more I learned about EJUSA, the more I saw a unique focus on solutions that address violence by promoting community-based responses that center those most impacted by harm. Our framework for a new justice system — built brilliantly by our former leader, Shari Silberstein, and the EJUSA team — will deliver something that the current system does not: safety, healing for everyone impacted by a harmful event, and accountability that truly repairs.

I can’t wait to grow the work that will make our vision real. And, honestly, we can’t wait. The tragic murder of George Floyd changed the way millions of Americans see our justice system. They are questioning its purpose, recognizing the racism on which it was built. They want something new.

We know what that new thing looks like. But we can’t do this alone. The EJUSA team, our community partners driving the solutions, and I need your support. The difficult work of change takes all of us.

So I’m asking for a favor as I settle into this role: Share this post with one friend or family member who is ready for this new vision of justice. Urge them to sign up to follow our efforts and learn about opportunities to support us as we work toward making this new vision of justice real.

In 2020, at the dawn of a global pandemic, the world witnessed the brutal murder of George Floyd at the hands of a Minneapolis police officer.  The collective response included uprisings in cities across the nation; calls to defund the police, to climate qualified immunity, and the demand for the immediate imprisonment of Derek Chauvin, George Floyd’s killer. 

Something was largely missing from the national conversation, though.  We weren’t talking about the trauma of witnessing police murder another Black man — especially as its felt by those who live in heavily policed neighborhoods everyday.

Many in Newark, NJ, were prepared for a different conversation. The Brick City is led by Mayor Ras Baraka, who committed to building a police department, and an entire city, , that understands the community’s trauma and addresses it. To that end, he brought our Trauma to Trust program into the city with the goal of  addressing the impact of law enforcement on community.  

The traditional format of Trauma to Trust is intense, and hard work: 16 hours, spread across two days, with anywhere from 15 to 25 community members and law enforcement agents in the same room. Given the health risks of the pandemic, that format was impossible, even though the trauma-informed training was more necessary than ever. So like every other event in 2020, we had to make Trauma to Trust a virtual experience.

Initially we had no idea how to transition an intensive training, designed for healing and transformation, to an online format. How could we bring the person-to-person connection, the deep discussions, and organic healing to a virtual platform? 

In the end, we knew it was impossible to recreate the sort of safe space required for the full trauma training online, so we decided to create a triage training of sorts. We built the Trauma To Trust Primer, a two-and-a-half hour conversation on trauma and policing, designed to ensure that community members had a safe space to communicate their needs and law enforcement officers had a space to understand the concerns of citizens. 

This primer is not intended to replace the full training but to hold space for the immediate impact that traumatic events can have on communities.  Even community members who had already experienced the full, in-person training returned for a much-needed “safe space” in the madness of the pandemic.

As we move into a post Covid-19 world, we are taking all of the lessons we’ve learned into a new and improved, in-person training, when safety allows.  The virtual primer has allowed other cities to discover our work as they explore how to transform their cities through trauma-informed policing. Until we can gather again, we will use the tools we have to ensure that we continue to have these conversations, push the needle forward, and demand for ourselves and our civil servants a commitment to reimagining justice in our communities.