Girls for a Change CEO Angela Patton, right, laughs with Samiah Harris during a visit to Hummingbird Gardens. (Photo by Jay Paul)
Boisterous energy envelops me as I walk through the doors of the Girls for a Change center on Buford Road, where at least two dozen girls are calling out greetings and chattering at tables. In some areas, there are posters with “Black Girls Rule” written in colorful, youthful script above photos of hair-care innovator and entrepreneur Madame C.J. Walker and supermodel-philanthropist Iman. On one wall, someone has posed the question: What would you do if you were the first black female president?
Suddenly, it’s time for snack. Angela Patton — GFAC’s chief executive officer, a 2016 White House “Champion of Change,” TED speaker, founder of Camp Diva, wife, mother and Richmond native — is “Sister Angela” here. “Line up, girls!” she calls, her voice booming above the din. Volunteers helm the snack distribution, and Patton offers veggie chips to artist Hamilton Glass, who’s on his way out after surveying the center’s mostly blank walls; they’re ripe for a mural. Patton turns to me when it’s quiet, smiling. “It’s a little crazy, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she says. I believe her.
“Why black girls — why are you just focusing on them?” That’s the question Patton says she’s heard so many times from potential donors, volunteers and complete strangers, she’s lost count. Her simple reply: “Why not black girls?”
Negative portrayals of black women pervade the media, leading to persistent stereotypes like the “baby mama” and the “angry black woman.” Last week, a study published by Georgetown Law’s Center on Poverty and Inequality revealed that “adults view Black girls as less innocent and more adult-like than their white peers, especially in the age range of 5–14.” Patton’s program highlights and celebrates positives images of black women, and helps girls identify traits to emulate in women and girls like former First Lady Michelle Obama and teen illustrator Chentel Song-Bembry.
In the midst of our interview, a girl who looks about 8 or 9 bounces up to Patton and says confidently, “I have an idea. Let’s talk about it when you have time,” with the assuredness of one who knows she will not be refused. Patton thanks her enthusiastically; at GFAC, black girls’ creativity and intelligence is developed and treasured, and they’re allowed to be children.
Continuing to explain the program’s focus on the well-being and advancement of black girls, Patton states, “Some of our data is disheartening.” She points out that black, Latina, and American Indian women are underrepresented in STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) careers. Founded in 2000, GFAC spearheads initiatives to introduce black girls to these areas of study and work, and provides access to ambassadors who can “prepare our girls for 21st-century jobs and careers of the future,” says Patton. And she reminds her girls often that black women are actually among the most educated groups in America.
I don’t need studies or statistics to know firsthand that black girls face unique challenges on the way to womanhood. In elementary school, I remember one of my teachers frequently praising several of my white female classmates, saying their bouncy, straight blonde or brown hair “looked pretty.” She never complimented my kinky strands or those of my black female classmates. “Is my hair un-pretty?” I wondered then.
Black girls are still asking themselves questions like this, and struggle to build self-esteem in a society that has traditionally embraced Eurocentric beauty standards, disfavoring darker complexions and non-straight hair. With these realities in mind, it’s clear why organizations like Girls for a Change are vital in our community. It’s not about exclusion; it’s about supporting and encouraging black girls, preparing them for the world and, as Patton says emphatically, “preparing the world for them.”
From left, Aly Hawkins, Nadia Fraser and Asani Ka-Re work on a project at the Girls for a Change center on Buford Road. (Photo by Jay Paul)
Perhaps the best indicator of the nonprofit’s success is the testimony of the girls themselves.
“Sister Angela makes you feel like you can do anything you want to do,” says 12-year-old Amiyah. “We can own our own businesses, or make art or do whatever we want.” Why do they take part in Girls for a Change? Soft-spoken Zoe answers simply, “So I can be around other girls like me, and figure out what they like to do. I have made a lot of friends here.” Thirteen-year-old Rykiah, in typical teen fashion, touches up her lip gloss before answering my questions. “I really like Sister Circles,” she says, explaining the small-group exercises where the young women gather to talk about problems, ideas and dreams. “And we can vent, too. You can say what you need to say, and everybody understands you,” she adds. All of the girls agree that GFAC, through its various programs and activities, exposes them to people and places who can open many doors of opportunity as they mature.
True Turner stops in to pick up his middle-school-aged daughter, Tyhera; his other child, 17-year-old Karema, has been involved with GFAC for the past five years. “This program has strengthened their character and reinforces what me and my wife teach them at home. They even do better in school; it has built their confidence tremendously.” Turner and his girls have attended one of GFAC’s signature events, a father-daughter dance called Date With Dad, for years.
Patton says the organization’s immediate goal is to buy the building GFAC now occupies. The focus of their efforts is girls in Chesterfield, “because we realized we had more girls in need here,” says Patton, “and more and more of our families are moving here from the city.” Like any other nonprofit, they depend on donations to power their efforts, and are always seeking volunteers to share their time and skills with the girls; visit girlsforachange.org to get involved.
Before I leave, the girls gather for “Girl Power” circle, a daily affirmation exercise where they dance and chant about their positive qualities. “My girl power looks like … kindness!” shouts a little one, braids flying as she jumps around excitedly. “My girl power looks like … intelligence!” another girl cries. I can only imagine the impact this kind of organization would have had on my life had it existed when I was their age. “Raising girls to downplay and erase their unique blackness is a disservice to them,” Patton says as she ushers me to my car. “We are helping girls discover who they are. We’re showing them they have so much power.”
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