On Kigali's Quiet

Kigali has diplomatic compounds like Geneva and bookstores with gridded French composition books. It feels like a Lego city. Smooth, smooth roads, streetlamps, reflectors between lanes. Perfectly poised police officers who, David told us, share English phrases like “I will punish you” and “I forgive you” if they pull you over. Since 2004, they’ve decreased traffic deaths by 32%. Visitors to Kigali from Nairobi or Kampala remark on how calm the city is, how quiet, how orderly.

The Kigali Genocide Memorial explains this order. Order is a coping mechanism for the worst disorder imaginable. At the Memorial, we read about the Belgian colonialists who decided one tribe was better than another, seeding violent resentment. About the way people turned this resentment into a careful plan to exterminate the other. About the small handful of international troops who escorted diplomats to safety when the extermination began, who instead would have been enough to stop it.

In the section of the Memorial for children, under a small, framed baby picture:

Francine (12)

Favorite sport: swimming

Favorite food: egg and chips

Favorite drinks: milk and Fanta

Favorite friend: Claudette

Death: hacked by machete.


Interview on "Negotiating the Terms"

If you scrolled back to the first essay on this site, from 2015, and read through the rest of the words stored here - on social activism, on writing, on ranchers, on nostalgia, on language, on Benefit Corporations and educational equity and sugar highs and road trips and cities of innovation and oceans and grinding poverty all combined - maybe you'd immediately suggest that I look for a role with an impact investment fund. (Or maybe not). 

However, since we are *all about the journey*, it took me three years to figure out the right direction for a career I'd want to dig into. I'm sharing an interview I got to do with a young woman whose made it her side hustle to interview young women in all sorts of investment roles. It answers a lot of questions about what the heck impact investing with Acumen means, and, I hope, it can be useful to anyone thinking about a career in social impact, or a career without a clearly defined title.

The original is here, and I highly recommend checking out the other interviews Nikita has pulled together. 

What attracted you to venture capital and working with startups?

It’s a long story, but each chapter was important. In some way it began in my childhood kitchen. My dad is a business owner - he runs a chain of weekly local papers with my aunt. Our kitchen table was always covered in advance copies of the paper, and I loved visiting the small businesses downtown that advertised because it felt like we lived in a strong community. My first job was writing for The Bernardsville News. I interviewed local characters and I loved learning about who they were and what they were working on. That desire to share people’s perspectives led me to major in  American Studies and work for student publications at Yale. I was specifically interested in the intersection of journalism and activism. After I graduated, I started working for NationSwell, a social impact media startup.

I was a jack of all trades on a staff of 3 working to crack the problem of telling stories that motivate readers to take action. We started a series of in-person sessions in NYC with innovators like General McChrystal and Andrew Yang (the founder of Venture for America) to bring service-minded people together and create solutions. Over that first year, I helped build this series of monthly gatherings into a membership community, the NationSwell Council, that became a key revenue stream for NationSwell’s media platform and has now expanded to 7 cities across the US.  

I was doing this on the side while I had a full-time job in consulting. There are so many different ways to work with startups, be that as an intrapreneur at a corporation or a scrappy founder or something in between. I loved building NationSwell, and it gave me the opportunity to use skills I had picked up from journalism and consulting. When I was considering my next move, I knew that I was interested in social enterprise. I also strongly believed that I needed to live in the communities I wanted to work with. So I signed up for Teach for America and taught on the border in Pharr, Texas for two years. I started noticing things that were too systemic to solve as a teacher. Intergenerational challenges - lack of job opportunities and financial empowerment. I wanted to work for a fund that was investing in companies providing these fundamental rights to low-income families. I am proud to be at Acumen now.   

What makes Acumen different than other social impact funds?

There’s been a proliferation of impact investing funds in the last few years, which is generally a great thing. But in South Texas, I also saw a lot of companies with an impact mission that didn’t actually prioritize what families needed.  I only looked at funds that clearly tracked the impact of their investments. Acumen has Lean Data: a mobile-based methodology we built to collect customer and business insights in 2-8 weeks at low cost. Lean Data helps us understand what’s important to customers and how our portfolio companies can implement that feedback for their next quarter. Because it’s a standardized way of collecting data - now being used by other impact investors, too - we can benchmark across business models, geographies, and stages of business. We believe it makes us better investors.

Here’s an example of how Lean Data works. One of our investees, BioLite, an energy company that sells smokeless cookstoves in East Africa and India, wanted to understand how they could help sales agents improve their pitches to better reach women. The Lean Data survey asked customers what motivated them to make their purchase and spoke to BioLite’s sales agents to understand how they targeted their customers. We found that BioLite’s core value prop of saving money on fuel resonated for male and female customers, but that men and women were motivated by different secondary factors for purchasing a stove. BioLite’s sales team has been able to pilot different sales methods based on this feedback, and we’re about to conduct a follow-up survey to understand if sales and conversion rates have improved.

The last thing that makes Acumen special goes beyond the dollars. We’re developing leaders in the markets where we work. We have five regional fellowship programs which are like mini-MBAs for early-stage entrepreneurs, intrapreneurs, and activists to build both hard skills like financial modeling and softer skills like storytelling. It’s a powerful community of social entrepreneurs that pays it forward and that we see as essential for building the social impact ecosystem - Acumen Fellows have even started companies together.  

How does an impact fund differ from your typical institutional venture firm?

Every impact fund is a bit different, and Acumen has a unique position as a non-profit. One big difference obviously is that I fundraise philanthropy, which our investment team then invests in for-profit companies. We aim for a 1x return across our entire portfolio and any return from exit is re-invested in our fund. Because of our structure, we can take risks on new business models or markets that an institutional investor or even another impact fund might not be able to stomach. We see our investments as catalysts for whole sectors, creating investment opportunities for other funds.

One of my favorite examples is  off-grid solar company, d.light. We made a $200,000 investment in 2007, when its prototype was the cheapest available solar lantern in the Indian and E. African markets. We made the bet that it could be transformational for the entire off-grid energy sector. As the company grew, our additional equity and debt investments attracted investment from larger impact and institutional investors. This spring, d.light raised $50M in debt funding and reached their 82 millionth customer.  Over ten years we’ve invested $5M in d.light - if we had donated the equivalent in solar lanterns, we would have reached only 250,000 customers.

How did you find and recruit for this role at Acumen?

I reached out to everyone I knew in the impact space after my teaching job. I created a Google Drive with social impact jobs and relevant funds. At that time, I was also considering joining an early-stage, mission-driven company. A founder at one of the edtech companies I spoke to connected me with a women at Acumen America who is now my colleague (hi Stella!), and we had a great informational conversation about what she was seeing in the workforce development and financial inclusion sectors. But at that time there were no openings at Acumen.

I decided to move to San Francisco last summer without a job, but a role at Acumen actually opened up the day I started driving West. My informational interviews ended up being really helpful - my now-colleague was able to speak to my cultural fit for Acumen, and, in having had conversation after conversation, I had refined my why for impact investing as well as a clear narrative of how my skills were a fit. I was coming from  non-traditional investment background but I had thought carefully about the abilities I’d honed as a journalist and teacher. I was able to draw connections between everything I’d done and how they led me to Acumen.

What are some investments that you’re excited about in this area?

EveryTable, a chain of grab-and-go restaurants that provide healthy meals at affordable prices across L.A. from Beverly Hills to Compton, is actually in our health portfolio but has a really cool workforce development component. The company hires staff from the neighborhoods where it works, in partnership with local nonprofits serving formerly incarcerated individuals, foster kids aging out of the system, single mothers, and more. They pay more than minimum wage, but are exploring a franchising system that goes far beyond that.

In the traditional fast food franchise world, there’s been something like redlining, where a franchise owner in a low-income neighborhood doesn’t have opportunities to open stores in more affluent areas. The vision for Everytable’s franchise system is that it would train employees in entrepreneurship and provide them a path to ownership in any neighborhood that the restaurant serves. If you think about the size of popular franchises like Subway and McDonalds, the opportunity for low-income and minority entrepreneurs with a re-imagined system is huge. It looks like breaking down structural inequities.

You are researching strategic partnerships while managing events and relationships with existing Partners. How do you manage all of these responsibilities?

I am learning something new every day, especially around how to manage my workflow! I’ve just started using a 1-3-5 system to keep track of priorities - one main priority for the day that must get done, three medium-sized tasks to complete, and then 5 little things - say, an email, or registering for an event - that I could even do on my commute. .

Because my role is all about sharing Acumen’s work, I have to be on top of everything that’s happening around our organization. I I try to capture my thoughts on what I’ve read or heard in tweets; knowing that I can succinctly summarize my work is a great way to help the information stick.

I also practice my pitches however I can! The better I know how to tell Acumen’s story, the more successful I can be in meetings with Partners and prospects. I like to do rapid fire pitches with my office colleagues as well as my friends. I’m grateful they let me use them as guinea pigs!

What are some challenges you face as an operator in vc?

That pesky imposter syndrome, which for me stems from my non-traditional background. I know I’m the right person for this role, but I think because we live in a culture of “experts” and I tend towards the generalist, every month or so I question my own authority. I have a few solutions to these brief existential crises. The first is to be up front about the areas where I need to grow - be that in terms of skills or mindset. My manager is all about growth and she pushes me in the right ways. We do coaching sessions, for example, to think through next steps for a strategic project or pitch. The second solution is a little more meta, but it helps me - I think about how my training as a journalist gave me tools to parachute in anywhere and learn quickly. Especially in a rapidly-changing field like impact venture, this skill is as important as expertise on a particular topic.  

Any advice for young women who want to enter venture capital - on the investing, operations, or platform side?

If you’re interested in impact investing or social enterprise, the best thing you can do is - and I’m borrowing this from author and activist Bryan Stevenson - get proximate before you think systemic. If you want to have impact, you have to think about the community you’re impacting - and you have to know it. Listen to the people you’re serving.Find out ways to work within that community. Teaching was an extremely formational journey for me. I wouldn’t be at Acumen if I hadn’t driven past my students’ homes and developed relationships with their families - if I hadn’t seen on a day to day basis what a better loan term or job opportunity could have done for them. When I’m fundraising, I draw on these stories and they remind me why this work is so important.

 

What You Can Do After a BBQ

In San Francisco last night, we gathered to raise money to help RAICES reunite and assist the more than 400 kids who are still separated from their parents in the aftermath of the administration's "Zero Tolerance" immigration policy. It was deeply awesome to see different circles come together with the goal of doing something about an issue that has, despite its urgency, fallen out of the news. We celebrated goodness and we talked about action. The vibes were good. And now it's up to us to build on those vibes and find ways to keep coming together. To engage with issues that are not comfortable. To push our own thinking and our own doing, to find ways to make change in our city and afar. 

A note for you, if you were there in presence or in spirit:

Thanks to your generosity, we raised over $12,000 for RAICES.

Depending on RAICES’ clients’ key needs, this will bond out nine parents, reuniting them with their kids while they go through asylum proceedings, and/or it will bring full legal assistance to moms like Raquel, who is still waiting to be reunited with her sons.

If you couldn’t make it but would still like to contribute, we’ll be shipping the gift on Monday, so there’s still time!

Feel free to Venmo Phil directly - @phillip-yang-5 - or email Charlotte to work out alternate arrangements (charlottevparker@gmail.com).

$12,000 is amazing, but there’s more we can do. Let’s keep the momentum going.

What else can I do?!

  1. Hang out again. See you next time. A bunch of you had thoughts on what’s next (I see you, Loek, Michael…). If you have ideas, contacts, event spaces, heck, a vision of a cover-band karaoke party for a cause, be it what it may, add it here.  

  2. Get informed. This week’s Latino USA is a good primer on what is happening to families still separated. Sign up for this weekly newsletter from the National Immigration Forum for a bipartisan perspective on immigration reform. Texas Monthly, the LA Times, the Texas Tribune, and Neta all have strong coverage of border issues. Here’s a small library of good articles on immigration, family separation, and what you can do:

    1. Interview with an immigration lawyer in McAllen

    2. Root causes of the crisis

    3. More on RAICES and why their work matters

    4. Why your gift last night keeps giving

    5. An Interview with Charlotte and Dave Willner, who kickstarted the campaign that raised $20M for RAICES and inspired this party.

  3. Not to get all political, but get political. Fixing the systems that caused these problems in the first place is going to take movement from our elected officials.  

    1. 5 calls has easy scripts for calling your reps on all sorts of issues, including immigration.

    2. Vote!

    3. Campaign for the candidates you care about, like Jessica’s been doing for Gina Ortiz-Jones in a key swing district in TX.

    4. Help other people vote in the midterms! (Great date idea FYI).

4. Keep giving. Think about making a recurring gift to an organization like RAICES. This ain’t over until the fat lady is done singing, or whatever they say. Fixing the system takes time, and will need our support. Make a recurring donation and ask your HR department about your matching policy while you’re at it. Amply is a great plug-in to help with this.

5. Get involved locally. Here’s a list of organizations in the Bay Area that can use volunteers who speak Spanish, know how to do taxes, are lawyers, etc. That means so many of you!

One more big thanks to our hosts with the mosts, Ben, Gavin, and Nick. You guys rock.

Here’s to more fun and finding ways to get uncomfortable,

AT, Charlotte, Christine, Kat, and Phil


P.S. Our friends at Imperfect Produce love you as much as we loved their veggies on the grill so they’ve gifted you free produce. Use code BRFUND at checkout to get 50% off your first box of delicious fruits and veggies.

The Letter I Left

My dear Champion Readers,

            You’ve made it! You are at the end of your fourth grade year, and you’re a full 180 days smarter, kinder, funnier, and better at flipping water bottles (JK. I know none of you ever do that, right?). You’ve learned the stories of real-life heroes (MLK, Rosa Parks, Cesar Chavez) and fictional role models (Auggie Pullman, Matilda, Stanley Yelnats). We’ve also talked a lot, this year, about our voices. Not just our voice levels in class or in the hallway, but our words and opinions, what we say and why it matters.

            Some of you have grabbed the idea and run. You have investigated election issues and shared your suggestions. You have come to me at recess because you think something at school is unfair. You have shared with me your own ideas and worries about the news. Others of you have been less sure that you, ten year olds, need to learn and express your opinions about current events. We wrote letters to Governor Abbott about the border wall, which sits 3 miles from school. A few of you stared at your papers.

            “We’re too young for this, Miss!” you yelled.

            If you remember one thing from this whole year, I want it to be that you’re not too young. You’re not too young to learn how your country works. You’re not too young to learn what’s going on in our country and in our world. You’re not too young to build an app or start a Minitropolis business. You’re not too young to express your opinions to me and you’re not too young to learn how to do it respectfully. And you’re not too young to try to understand the opinions of others, especially when grownups in our country need some help doing the same thing.

            Remember the water bottle? How it looked different when we looked at it from different sides of the classroom? Your perspective changes what you see or understand. I want you to understand that you have a unique perspective. Many of you have two countries. You wake up and go to sleep in Mexico, but you spend your day in the United States. For you, alla, over there, means across the border. (For me, when I was ten, it meant across the room). You speak two languages so fluently that sometimes you forget which is which. You live in a place where speaking Spanish and eating menudo on Sunday is American. Our whole country is wondering right now: what does American mean? Your voices would add a lot of ideas to that discussion. You might persuade some people to change their minds.

            You know that champion readers read a little and write a little. They circle key words. They use their strategies on multiple-choice questions. But the most important thing that good readers do is listen. They read the author’s words carefully, and then they respond to add their own voices to the discussion. I’m curious to know what you think about all this. I will be listening.

            Even though I am leaving Pharr, I am not leaving you. I will always, always be available for anything that you need. You better stay in touch! Send me pictures, stories, questions; send me ideas and worries and funny thoughts. You all have taught me so much this year. I can’t wait to keep learning from you.

                                                Love,

                                                            Ms. P

In the Valley, Before School Started

Notes from a long time ago, in another country. 

Buying a Car

I spent my first day in the Valley looking for a used car. My friend Juan picked me up at the Harlingen airport and we went right to a dealership housed in a vintage building where the flatscreen TVS blew out the electricity. Juan lamented that girls in the valley only like guys with big trucks. We test drove a new Rav4 and returned it to a parking lot where heat waves mixed my vision. The next dealership had cookies and popcorn but no car in my price range. After that, I ordered my first Big Mac and acquiesced to go see Antman. The trailers were for Mexican kids’ movies. When we returned to reality, we went to Walmart and bought shampoo with families doing Saturday night shopping. 

Signing a Lease

Mr Thompson, the landlord and proprietor of Thompson Citrus, drives a white suburban with a grapefruit on the license plate. He was born in this house and he calls Mexicans Latins, though he speaks a calm respectful Spanish with his guys. 

“Don’t get snookered,” he told me. “Don’t go to the wrong Walmart or they’ll steal your purse,” he told me. “I can be there in 5 minutes flat with a gun if need be,” he told me. 

I locked all the doors and set the alarm the first week, but I don’t think we’ve set the alarm since then. Cumbia music comes from down the road some nights, but mostly dark is the sound of crickets and a moon over the citrus groves. 

Running

The week before school started, I got a drink at Chili's off the highway with three TFA women and then I ran in the Weslaco city park, where I was the only white person. A truck with a loudspeaker sold ice cream and elote, corn in a cup with mayonnaise. Little kids tentatively kicked soccer balls while their older brothers ran laps around the field with graceful footwork. Packs of grandmothers sauntered around the outside trail hablando en Spanglish. 

I’ve been running alone in the state park about a mile from my house, where the sky is open and my footfall surprises rabbits and flocks of small yellow birds from sage brush and cactus. In the city park, I moved feeling part of a beating heart of human activity.

On the drive home, at dusk, a neon car wash sign glowed beautiful in my rearview mirror. 

Driving

During TFA training we watched a video about a woman namedCarmen Anaya and how, speaking no English, she still managed to agitate for change so that, eventually, children in the colonias didn’t have to ruin their shoes walking through sewage puddles on the way to school. 

After that training, I filled my car up with its first full tank of gas (2.40/gallon), and drove out to Las Milpas, the neighborhood of Pharr that Carmen Anaya helped pull up and out of the most extreme poverty. There was no one on the road but me and a bunch of shipping trucks headed to Mexico in a hazy, vaguely holy evening light. I stopped at my school, which was quiet. 

The drive back along Military Highway was almost empty too. Flat and green, the type of landscape that might make you imagine you’re on dirt roads. Mexico, arrow to the right. I got home and ran in a new direction, in a housing development called Springfield Estates where they’re still trying to sell lots. Financing available with $500 down. Electricity from the city of Weslaco. The American dream! Across the street, in a small, fenced-off clearing, a woman pitched hay and a small goat bleated. 

On the radio, the Mexican government proclaims in baritone, “move to Mexico for your prosperity…”

The Border

After I met my students’ parents for the first time, I ran to the border. I carried their questions and their bendicciones. It was dusk just before darkness: The Rio Grande swung past, a calm seafoam green, an easy swim. Cows mooed bucolically on the other side. 

We had started our run in the evening. Santa Ana felt empty, jurassic. As the gold went away and dark fell it became emptier. DPS suburbans illuminated the dark on the drive home.

The Pulga

Today, when the heat was heaviest, we went to La Pulga, the sprawling flea market off the freeway. 

We parked in a lot by dudes who would tint your windows. The whole thing felt like a mall in a highway underpass. The old woman at the check in booth had a gold tooth and asked what time it was. 50 cents to go to Mexico. Casi no hable una palabra de ingles between the stands selling new DVDs, the kitchen appliances, the old clothes, the piles of fruit. Griffin told me about chiles that grow native and wild, little pinpricks of heat. We bought tacos and micheladas at an outdoor stand where Aimee and I were the only white girls. Inside the dance hall, old couples twirled, touched, took each other’s hands to the back bar when a song ended. I still don’t know my research question for the Valley. La Pulga reminded me that I am in a place of fluid identity where I have a lot to learn. 

Sick Day

I drive to school in the morning at night. The moon and the stars still hang in the sky. The llano fed by the Rio Grande stretches soft and dark outside my car window like the bed I leave behind. 

When I turn onto Military Highway, white US Border Patrol suburbans appear now and again like ghosts. They train their headlights on Mexico, 1.6 miles away. I haven’t seen any people emerge in those beams yet. The lights at the international road bridge to Progreso blink red, green. Sometimes there’s a parade of 18-wheelers; mostly, it’s just me and a few other early commuters. The animals at this hour are still nocturnal. When I get to school, the milk is just being loaded into the cafeteria. I see the sunrise from the hallway door when my first period class lines up outside my room. Unless I have recess duty, I don’t go outside until 6 pm. (My students don’t have it much better, on the days when they have inside recess). Military Highway winds me home between the llano’s fields when the sun hangs close to setting. 

On the drive to school on Friday, I hit a racoon. Baby’s first roadkill. Thump. I saw its eyes shine in my headlights. 

My voice was almost gone, anyway. All I did last week was wake up, go to school, drive home, prepare for the next day, and fall asleep worrying about how I was going to get all the pencils sharpened before class. How N. has been more and more defiant. How I feel like all I do say is no. How the kids who speak the least English misbehave the most because they're not engaged. I noticed myself getting sick but was too worried I was an incompetent teacher to pay it any mind. 

On Thursday, most of my 120 students had been sweet. Miss, you’re sick, they said. Miss, you should go see the doctor. They were less chatty than usual, sort of, out of kindness. 

But your voice, you see, is power. Tone and volume change responses and reactions in ways I’m just beginning to comprehend. I still believe there’s power in silence. But you need vocal power if you’re going to corral 120 under-exercised, over-sugared Friday-morning ten-year-olds into a hallway to read silently while Kindergarden gets to use the playground. That didn’t go so hot on Friday. I rasped and coughed instructions to a substitute and drove home feeling defeated. The raccoon’ s corpse lay on the middle of Military in the midday sun.  

I got home and sorted through the surveys I had given my morning classes. I had asked them to tell me how they felt about our class, statements like (Agree or Disagree) “Miss Parker believes in my potential” “Our class feels like a safe place” “I feel like Miss Parker is working to get to know me."

I had expected their responses to be negative, based on how many of them mocked the questions while I was reading them out loud, how loud our room still gets at breakfast, and how my pockets fill with confiscated eraser bits and cootie catchers by the end of the day. 

 And I couldn’t decide if that expectation, or their positive, thoughtful responses and notes (“This is my favorite class” “Can we decorate the classroom for the seasons?”“I wish everyone were respectful to everyone else” ”HARRY POTTER”), made me more melancholy. How the heck can I tap into the potential of all of these children when I spend most of my time with them and away from them worrying I’m not doing things right? 

I just taught simile and metaphor, sorry. I lost my voice and I have been losing my voice. I have been forgetting why I’m here. I’ve been in a daily tunnel of stress and nerves, driving up and down Military Highway in a fog even on the brightest evening. 

The fog was so thick it took me about 24 hours to remember that when you’re sick you normally try to get better. I drank tea on Saturday morning and called the doctor, who told me I had laryngitis, badly infected. Don’t talk, she said, until you’re back 100%. 

So I called a sub for today. This weekend, I did all of the things I normally do for the upcoming week but breathed in between them. I took more than five minutes to eat dinner and I vacuumed my room and I spent a few hours on Sunday morning exploring river channels with my roommate in an inflatable kayak. I’m starting to remember that I need to do the things that fill me with joy, so I can bring that joy into my classroom. (Duh, but revelatory, two months into this job). 

This morning, I drove to school so I could make copies of a work packet to leave for my students. I left the building just when the kids would be pulling the breakfast cooler into our classroom. The sun’s fingers appeared. Parents’ pickup trucks lined up outside the long, low building. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, it all seemed sort of miraculous: two faithful buses shimmered on the horizon, bringing a hundred more kids for another day of learning. 

Long Weekend

On Sunday, we found an abandoned pool club on the Rio Grande. Four pools, hot tub, beer (warm) still in the bars. Mexico on the other side of the river and border patrol vans driving by.

In the old Spanish chapel next to it, a woman prayed and gave us dirty looks for our dirty feet. I stayed outside, bare shoulders. 

We kept driving along the military highway that tracks the river and the border - past a burned out monastery that sits on a Catholic schools campus, past old men drinking beers and shooting doves pop-pop  from folding lawn chairs, past the road bridge to Mexico, past a small red bar called El Vaquero, right under that bridge, past about a mile of shipping warehouses with NAFTA flags. 

I bought poblano peppers and bistec suave from the meat market, La Michoacana, got looks because I was the only white girl. A father and son joked while they waited in line with the butcher. I drove home missing the evening light in NJ, joking with my parents in our kitchen. I cooked for my roommates and my hands burned for two hours after from the pepper seeds, reminding me that I did not come here to feel at home. 

New Posts will be under "Borderlands"

...but I have yet to set up a subscription widget!

So for now, I'll post links here:

I'm living in a new country in my own country, on the border with a country that permeates every aspect of the day. 

I toggle between South Texas country 100.3 and 101.5 Digital, which plays Enrique Inglesias and Mana on heavy rotation. Que dios te bendiga, God bless you, the ladies in the front office say, at the end of every conversation. The nurse orders us plates of flautas and tacos for lunch on Fridays. My kids are testing out swears in Spanish and they eat gummy bears and chili on their shaved ice after school. The drive-through convenience stores sell micheladas and avocados and all the flavors of Takis. 

I'm working in a new country, too, a nation of  120 ten year olds who test me and push me to remind myself, every day, that respect is earned, not given. Confidence covers up most mistakes. Everyone wants to be loved, and no change happens over night. My voice sounds like I've been on a three week bender, not working from 6 am to 8 pm in an air-conditioned schoolhouse. 

I've been writing more lesson plans and sticky note reminders than anything else, but there are rich words and images here to share and I'm working on pulling them together. 

 

20 Lines on Patriotism

It started with a feeling of affectionate embarrassment for Bill Clinton. At a conference on social enterprise, the head of the B Corps network in Uruguay gave a presentation that included a video of Bill talking about B Corps back in 2012. He spoke haltingly and he looked sort of flushed, like he had just had a few drinks. I looked around the conference room full of lawyers and social entrepreneurs to make sure no one was laughing. The subtitles, in fact, did not pick up on Bill’s lack of eloquence. 

I sat back. Hearing English was soothing and, no matter how he stumbled, what he was saying was good - we need to clear our minds of the primacy of short-term profit. Corporations and shareholders need to be willing to think long term. His accent and his aim made me think fondly of the country where I was born. Straight-shooting, idealistic. Then the founder of the first Uruguayan B Corp took the stage and hit play on another YouTube video. It was about lawyers in the US banding together to create a legal framework for these Benefit Corporations. They wanted companies to be allowed to incorporate social and environmental benefit as fiduciary duties in their charters. 

As the music swelled and more states who had passed legislation were highlighted on a big US map, I found myself feeling a little emotional. When Jack Markell, the Governor of Delaware, spoke about his states’ duty to pave the way (over 50% of publicly-traded US companies are incorporated in Delaware), my heart beat faster. Then the kicker, the corkscrew opening that bottle of American idealism:

“I believe, ten years from now, we will look back on this time as the start of a revolution,” said Yvon Chouinard, the Founder of Patagonia. 

After this doozy, the clip gave the final tally of states that had approved legislation and cut to a scene of a small New England town square. That just about did it for me. When the video ended, I was about to excuse myself to the hallway so I could let tears stream down my cheeks in peace.

Facts: The B Corps movement is strong here. The Latin American countries that have been forced to host transplanted capitalism may understand, better than we Americans who have mostly reaped the benefits of that blind industry, why a triple bottom line is important. I almost cried watching YouTube videos about corporate law in the United States, so I think it may be time to start working my way home.