Danielle Dick
Following a sexual assault at a local massage franchise, a push to get the company to prioritize changing its policies
The criminal trial was over in September 2016, but I kept carrying a tremendous weight in the wake of my sexual assault by a massage therapist: I wanted to ensure it didn’t occur again or at least reduce the chance that it would.
In October 2017, when allegations against Harvey Weinstein and others started coming out, I knew then that only by speaking out could I get any leverage to force policy changes by the company that had employed my assailant.
I had the ability to speak out in ways others don’t: I was a tenured professor, the individual who assaulted me had been convicted and I wasn’t worried if I would be believed. I felt I had some obligation.
I decided to publish an essay about my experience on Medium, with a link to a change.org petition.
I was extremely nervous, but I put it out there. What I didn’t expect was the overwhelming outpouring of support that I got. I wondered, “Why did I keep this to myself so long?” But the number of individuals who came forward to tell me about their own stories was heartbreaking. I shared the petition on my Facebook page and with family, friends and colleagues.
When the online petition had reached somewhere around 20,000 signatures, Massage Envy set up a meeting between me and their general counsel. A journalist from BuzzFeed then called about a story they were working on involving more than 180 people filing sexual-assault-related lawsuits, police reports, and state board complaints involving Massage Envy franchises across the country.
I remember my plane landing from Thanksgiving travel when the BuzzFeed story went public. My phone exploded with calls from “Good Morning America” and the “Today” show. Later that week, I had my meeting with Massage Envy’s general counsel.
The plan that she shared with me brought tears to my eyes — it included everything that I had asked the company to do, and more.
Massage Envy has now announced major comprehensive changes to their policies to address sexual assault. I was flown to corporate headquarters to help launch a safety advisory committee that will meet in person quarterly and by conference monthly. The CEO was with us all day. And I will speak at Massage Envy’s national franchisee meeting in April.
This has been a powerful experience, but I’m ready to go back to my work on substance abuse and mental health in young people, and to look at breaking down more barriers for women in the sciences and in the workforce.
—As told to Susan Winiecki
Ashley Williams (center) leads a class at bareSOUL yoga. (Photo courtesy Ashley Williams)
Ashley Williams
Using yoga as a tool to help individuals and the community at large
For me, 2017 was the culmination of a lot of work that I’ve been doing over the past couple of years — including earning a Master of Science in Yoga Therapy from Maryland University of Integrative Health — but also the beginning of a lot of newer projects, like bareSOUL yoga.
Yoga started for me in 2013, when my aunt passed away. Her death was something that just really sparked more love and compassion in my life, both for myself and for other people. Her motto was “maintain constant love.”
After my aunt’s passing, I started experiencing a lot of grief and began using yoga as a healing mechanism. A couple of months in, I could feel a change in myself. I moved out of that stagnant phase of grief and realized that the kids I was working with in a mentoring capacity (at the time I was an after-school therapeutic supervisor), kids who suffered mental health challenges, could really benefit from yoga in the same way that I had. After earning my yoga teaching certification, I started getting contracted out to work in various mental health settings throughout the city.
After graduating in June 2017, a colleague and I walked into Saadia’s Juicebox in Jackson Ward looking to possibly rent out the space for a workshop, and from there, the conversation led to opening up bareSOUL as a bricks-and-mortar business. Saadia’s Juicebox agreed to outsource studio space to us, and bareSOUL was opened on May 15, 2017. The front portion of the shop is a restaurant, and in the back, there’s an actual yoga studio where we offer about 25 classes a week as well as special workshops and events that we put on for the community.
The purpose of the studio is to offer space in a very inclusive way to all backgrounds, cultures and socioeconomic statuses. I noticed that there was a lack of representation of black women in yoga and decided to make bareSOUL a space where every person feels invited. A lot of women and men have come in and shared stories about how they haven’t felt welcome in certain spaces, which is a little disappointing because it’s the opposite of what yoga is.
Even beyond the studio, I’m grateful for the work we do in the community. I am so happy to be seeing requests for more yoga and mindfulness in institutions, more yoga and mindfulness in schools, and more yoga and mindfulness within mental health settings.
—As told to Sarah Geroux
From left: Amy Wentz, Shemicia Bowen and Kelli Lemon, the team behind Richmond Black Restaurant Experience (Photo by Courtney Jones courtesy Amy Wentz)
Amy Wentz
The origin and continuing evolution of Richmond Black Restaurant Experience
I run an organization called BlackRVA that provides free marketing and social media for black-owned businesses. In March of 2016, Curt Autry, news anchor at NBC 12, posted on Facebook about an event in Memphis called Black Restaurant Week. He asked, “Why can’t we do this in Richmond?” Folks tagged BlackRVA in the post, asking the same thing. It happened that my good friend Shemicia Bowen knew the creator of Black Restaurant Week in Memphis and said that we should partner up. We grabbed Kelli Lemon, who was a manager at Mama J’s, and together we took it from there. In March 2017, Richmond’s first Black Restaurant Week featured 19 restaurants. This year, we are at 30 restaurants for Richmond Black Restaurant Experience.
Richmond Black Restaurant Week morphed into Richmond Black Restaurant Experience because we wanted to separate ourselves from some of the other event weeks that are going on in the city, which usually highlight restaurants that are already popular. Our event focuses on giving an economic boost to restaurants that don’t normally get a push from marketing.
One takeaway from our first year was that we were able to create 17 sustainable jobs. That’s huge, to be able to do an event and have it create jobs because of the outpouring of support. The restaurants have continued to get more diners throughout the year. Originally some of the restaurants didn’t need an extra cook or waiter, but because of this week and the amount of patronage they’ve received since, they need to keep that staff.
There is an event schedule that includes hip-hop karaoke and “Stick a Fork in It,” an event featuring black-owned catering companies and black chefs. We’ll have contests and demonstrations, and there will be small plates that people can sample from different caterers in the area.
In 2012, I started BlackRVA after searching online for a list of black-owned businesses. I couldn’t find one source where all of the black-owned businesses in the area existed in one spot. I thought, “Wow. This is a need.” When folks come to town and want to check out our rich history and our rich black history, we should have a list of black-owned businesses and restaurants. Richmond is getting put on the map for so many things, and we just want to make sure that we have a part in that, and that folks can see what all Richmonders have to offer. Richmond is full of diversity, and it’s really cool to be a part of an organization that gets to uplift and add value to that diversity.
—As told to Sarah Geroux
Molly Korte
A son’s diagnosis leads to the creation of a nonprofit
I started the Project “Just Like You,” a social media campaign designed to highlight people with special needs, in late September 2016. My son, Jacob, had just been diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. After a month of mourning, because it was not the path that I saw him on, I realized after observing Jacob and watching him play that there was so much about him that was like any other child. I wanted the world to see that he’s not a label, he’s a person.
So I just started reaching out, saying, “Here’s what I’m doing, can I feature your child? Or can I feature you?” The social media campaign gained traction quickly, and it evolved into a nonprofit.
After receiving both local and national attention, I connected with filmmaker Lauren Costabile. I started thinking, “Why don’t we do a film for International Day of Persons With Disabilities, which includes everybody?” We premiered the film at our first annual RVA Different Abilities Day, which took place on Dec. 3, 2017. We had over 200 people show up. We’re planning on making this an annual thing, and we want it to be big.
There would not be a Project Just Like You without my dad, Dr. Michael McMunn. When I was devastated by Jacob’s diagnosis, my dad stepped in. With tears in his eyes, he said, “Molly, don’t you see what a gift this is to our family? Jacob’s going to teach us to love more. Jacob is going to teach us to be more compassionate. Jacob is going to teach us how to be kinder people.” In early February of 2017, my dad unexpectedly passed away. He’s in my spirit and he’s in my work.
—As told to Sarah Geroux
Santa Sorenson
Teaching conflict resolution as a way to steer toward a more peaceful future
As a facilitator at the Richmond Peace Education Center, I designed a curriculum for teaching youth about conflict resolution. In 2017, we used it to train eight students from Albert Hill Middle School to become co-facilitators in teaching their peers about mindfulness and how to defuse and de-escalate conflict. We found that the kids were able to calm down a lot quicker than before these programs were introduced. After that success, we got a bigger grant to work with more kids, and we’ve started with a whole new group at the school for this year.
I’m 65, so I come from the ’60s. I was born and raised in New York City, and I was a peace advocate. I marched in pretty much every march for peace in Vietnam and for women’s rights. That was my foundation. When the Harvey family was killed in 2006, I remember during that time wanting to learn conflict resolution. I saw the news one evening, and there was the man who killed the Harveys. I looked at him, thinking and wondering, what made this man do this? What in his life created this? I really feel that nobody does anything without a reason. So I decided to learn conflict resolution training. I really think that we have to stop crime by being empathetic and understanding of what these kids are going through from the very time that they’re born. We need to understand what their families are going through. We have to really sit down and talk about racial and economic justice in a serious way that creates change and not just talk.
I find that in the past 13 years since I started working with the Peace Center, empathy seems to be a big game changer. If you can get a group of adults or youth to understand that No. 1, they’re not alone, and No. 2, everybody is going through the same thing, things seem to settle down. There’s less conflict, there’s more understanding. There’s more community building and trust when they find out that they are not alone in this. Everything we do at the Peace Center is to empower youth and to teach them that they can create change. They don’t have to have an adult always telling them what to do.
I love my job. I don’t do this stuff alone, we do this as a community, not just with the people I work with but the community we work with.
—As told to Sarah Geroux
Kenya Gibson
She ran for public office for the first time and won
I moved to Richmond from California in 2006 with my husband and infant daughter. People we met would immediately ask, “Where are you going to send your kids to school?” Many of them were committed to private schools, which felt odd to me. It felt odd because I was a public-school kid. I grew up in the 1970s, a time when schools had to be held accountable for how diverse they were. I lived in lots of different neighborhoods. I lived in mixed-income housing, I went to schools that had magnet programs in inner cities, I went to suburban schools that had busing programs. They were all public schools and they were really different, but all of them had this one thing in common: They were intentional about how diverse they were. I was able to be with kids that came from homes that were really different than mine. I think a lot of my own success in life is that I’m able to navigate this diverse world. When we moved here, we wanted that for our kids, too.
In Richmond, the schools are something that people talked about as being a problem, and I wanted to be part of the solution. Both of my kids were at Linwood Holton Elementary when I found a group of like-minded teachers and parents who wanted to see real change happen. We spent a lot of time doing research, showing up at city hall, and advocating for funding. That work led to things like teacher salary decompression and more money for the facilities. I was then asked to join the PTA and serve on the board. All that work led me to decide to run for office, something I never thought I’d ever do, when the 3rd District seat on the school board opened up.
Running for office was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The schedule of forums and events is incredible, and fundraising is really hard. I have new respect for every elected official. Putting yourself out there isn’t easy. When I won, I felt elated. It was really empowering. It was a really exciting [November 2017] election for the country and for our state; it was an honor to be a part of all that enthusiasm. I was sworn in in December.
For me, success is getting more folks to show up and to advocate. When we make our voices loud, we can get things done. I want to put policies in place that improve teacher retention and improve communication in our schools and ultimately, to rebuild trust in the schools.
—As told to Sarah Geroux
Laura Daab
Her dinner theater closed, but she found her second act in a food truck
In 1993, my husband and I moved to Richmond from Minneapolis to start a mystery dinner theater. We had a very successful business for 20 years, but then the recession hit in 2008. We hung in there for five more years, finally shutting down in 2013.
One day, my husband came home from work and told me there was a food truck available at an auction house near our neighborhood in Church Hill. As an avid cook, I had toyed around with the food truck idea off and on. I’ve been in the restaurant and hospitality industry business much of my life. We bid on this repossessed panini truck from D.C. and won. I took about three or four months to put a menu together, design the logo and slogan, and re-outfit the truck with new appliances. I was officially in business by January of 2017.
Bikini Panini’s menu is based on southern Mediterranean coastal cuisine. I have three entrees, a paella, a ratatouille, a moussaka, that I serve, as well as paninis, which all do very well.
I get up in the morning and the first thing I do is have a cup of coffee and hustle. I get on my email, look at what inquiries have come in, sometimes sending solicitations to various prospects.
This is probably the most physical and challenging of any job I’ve ever done, so it’s interesting that it’s coming later in my life. Despite that, it’s very rewarding. The people I’ve met are wonderful. I’ve been pretty overwhelmed with how successful I’ve been. I’m pretty lucky.
—As told to Sarah Geroux
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Emily Herr paints a mural on Battery Street Jeans, a thrift store in Burlington, Vermont. (Photo courtesy Emily Herr)
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A mural of Angela Patton, CEO of the nonprofit Girls for a Change, located on Campfire & Co.’s Main Street building (Photo courtesy Emily Herr)
Emily Herr
A traveling mural project becomes a tool to make a difference
In my Richmond-centric world, I feel extremely capable. I paint murals for a living, I have my own studio and I get to call wonderful people family and friends.
In the larger world, I feel waves of powerlessness — politically under the current administration, culturally as a young self-employed artist, socially as a female.
Catalyzed by the Women’s March in 2017, I felt intensely motivated but unsure of what to do. One problem drew my focus — the way womxn [not a typo, just a more inclusive term] are generally depicted as objects rather than subjects in both advertisements and galleries. As a muralist, I decided to use my very public medium to contradict those ubiquitous tall, young, sexy, delicate, straight, white, happy females. It became my goal to paint mural monuments to the glorious variety of ways that female-identifying people occupy the world. And my mostly completed mobile studio was due for a maiden voyage, so why not take it on tour?
In June, I started building steam in Richmond by painting five murals in quick succession, bringing the mobile studio to events around town. I called for submissions of pictures of rad womxn and got hundreds of responses. I enlisted a lot of help from friends and strangers to get ready for the trip — finding sponsors, planning a route. This process was rife with self-doubt and pivoting plans, but in July, I hit the road with my friend Sarah.
The learning curve of traveling and painting was steep.
We ended up painting a tiny house in Berryville, depicting a close network of yogi friends. In Philadelphia, we got a little bolder and approached a stranger to cover up unwanted graffiti with a portrait of a local punk rock radio host. In Brooklyn, we painted karate students much larger than life on their dojo.
Then we headed for our final destination in Burlington, Vermont, where we had arranged to spend a whole week painting a mural featuring 25 womxn from the area. Just two hours from our destination, the studio de-mobilized and left us for a week of repairs.
Magically, a rescue mission by generous strangers got all our paint and equipment to Burlington, where we were able to complete our final mural. People from all over Vermont submitted pictures of womxn to be painted, and several even traveled to see us work.
This trip concluded in August 2017, but the Girls! Girls! Girls! project is far from over. I consider this a practice run, an experiment in engagement. It’s very easy to be totally overwhelmed when the whole world is inches from your face on a screen. The pressure and guilt to fix everything is constant. By picking something in my wheelhouse and going out to see what happens by engaging with strangers, I was able to reconnect with the knowledge that my individual actions matter.
—Emily Herr