Queer Oakland: Malkia Cyril's official story

Photo credit: Naomi Ishisaka

Photo credit: Naomi Ishisaka

I, in all my poetry, could never find a metaphor for Malkia Cyril. I could never adequately explain what she brings to a conversation. She has an uncanny capacity for off-top eloquence - it’s bizarre.

I couldn’t figure it out at first … then I realized … Cyril is seriously “media trained.” Sometimes media training comes off as artificial, as simplistic repetition of sound bite. Cyril’s media training amounted to 3,000 precise and passionate words over a couple of beers.

Ashe, Amen and Hallelujah” were the only words forming in my mind.

“We learn from media what we deserve. I’ll say this: What you hear on the news becomes the official story, the official truth. It sets the terms of debate for policies, whether it’s health care (the possibility of a public option), the banking industry (holding them accountable for the mortgage crisis), the environment or jobs," Cyril said.

“We have to begin participating in shaping what that official story is. That so-called truth is shaping public consciousness and the way we think about ourselves, the way we think about what’s possible. It sets the limits of our imagination. It demands that we engage in political process in limited ways, only in the ways that have been defined by what we understand is possible and true. The ability to shape the story is absolutely critical for any possibility of envisioning a different future.”

My favorite part of the interview, though, was when a text from her partner left her speechless; she grinned like a baby smiling for the first time. It inspired in me an exquisite hope that humans might be able to relate in a constructive manner; Cyril’s love and her desire to stick around for it motivates her to a greater experience of physical health.

Her work as founder and executive director of the Center for Media Justice is impressive, but it’s even more earth-shattering when you know the back-story.

“I was born and raised in Brooklyn, in Bed-Stuy. My neighborhood was a hot spot. I lived between four crack houses. My mother was a Black Panther. I didn’t know my father. I went to public schools all my life.

"My mom, as a member of the Black Panther Party, was responsible for editing the Black Panther newspaper. She had an inherent interest in media, writing, literature and journalism. She passed that love on to me.

"Beyond that, I also watched this whole community [Black Panthers] get totally f----- by news coverage of them: falsely accused, incarcerated for life … . In large measure, it had to do with the hysteria generated by news coverage of them. I grew up in the late '70s and '80s, during the emergence of crack and the emergence of aids. There were all of these terms like ‘welfare mom’ and ‘crack babies.’

"The message that was being told to me through that was that news and other forms of media can shape whether I live or die. They can shape whether I have access, whether people believe I deserve access to basic services, whether people believe I am a threat or a benefit, as a young black person, as an emerging stud (butch).

"As I moved into the '90s, I saw the Contract with America, which the GOP advanced under Clinton. It put in three strikes and welfare reform. The movement to do that was undergirded and fundamentally rooted in a communications strategy from the right.

"I felt it. I was very aware of it as a writer.

"News coverage, and the way that the 'official' story has been told, has shaped my day to day life since my birth. It is my commitment that every day of my life, for the rest of my life, I’m gonna fight to ensure that there is a kind of media that leads to justice, and peace, and equity … instead of what it’s done to my life, which is discrimination, displacement and exclusion.”

Cyril was kicked out of Sarah Lawrence College for spray painting “black power” on a wall. She spent the next 11 years trying to graduate. She sampled higher education, taking classes at San Francisco State University, University of California, Berkeley, Laney, Hunter College and others. She finally walked the stage at Sarah Lawrence and got her degree.

In 2001, the Center for Media Justice started as the Youth Media Counsel. She was finally able to make it into a 501(c)(3).

“When we first began, our budget was less than $100,000, and now we have 10 staff people and it’s a national organization. I’m very proud of it. We have a national network that’s called the Media Action Grassroots Network that has almost 200 member organizations. We have an online action network of 4,000 members. We try to do two things - 1) change the rules, 2) help people play the game better, when it comes to communications.”

I connect most with Cyril in the fact that her personal and political life are in breathless dialogue with each other. Her relationship with her mother mirrors my own.

“My mom is the single greatest influence in my life. Once I left home, I talked to my mother every single day, multiple times a day … every single day of my life … until she died. She was my best friend; she was a very hard person to deal with. And I love her more than anything.”

Currently, Cyril and the Center for Media Justice are working to preserve net neutrality.

“If you begin with the principle that everybody deserves a public voice … that in a democracy, you can’t function if you can’t participate. In this country, a big part of participation is through the media," Cyril said. "In the last 20 or 30 years, the Internet has become the predominant way that people communicate and participate. It’s a platform that has become one of the most critical platforms that there is. Also, it’s one of the most de-centralized media platforms. All the other media platforms out there - network news, newspapers, radio - have extraordinary barriers.

“People of color have a really hard time getting involved or having their public voice heard through those mediums. Historically, people of color have been mis-represented through those forms of media. People of color have been excluded from those forms of media. But on the Internet, as long as you have a connection … nobody can tell you what you can and can’t say. Those barriers to access, those things that make it impossible for you to get heard, or for your story to get told, those same barriers don’t exist on the Internet, and that’s what de-centralized media means.

“What protects this access right now is a rule of net neutrality. And that means that these big dogs like AT&T, Verizon and Comcast can’t say, ‘no, you not gonna get the same kinda speed that allows you to speak equally.’ Say Fox News could use money and power to get a quicker connection, to speak to people faster than me. That’s a first amendment violation. That means that they can reach broader audiences. Not because they’re better, not because they did more, but because they had more money. Big companies want you to pay more for a faster connection. They want a tiered field of service.

“Without net neutrality, millions of migrant people who use Skype to communicate with their families and loved ones across the world would not have access to it anymore, because it would be too expensive.

“If you’re a small media maker, independent artist, an online business in a rural community or a social justice organizer … your group, your media outlet won’t have enough money to reach the kind of audience that you can reach right now," she continued. "On the Internet, unlike any other form of media, everybody can reach a broad audience through organizing. If you’re a bad organizer, that’s on you. If companies get to start price gouging, if they get to start discriminating, if they get to start charging more fees for different speeds of service, then people like me can’t reach audience.

"Right now, net neutrality is in effect. But they want to eliminate it, whereas right now, everybody is on the same playing field.”

Cyril’s official story is that she’s dope. That’s it. If I could shape my own official story, it would be that I live and die to speak to, reflect, amplify and uplift truth tellers like Cyril. Ashe, Amen and so it is.
 

About

Tehea Robie is a contributing writer to Oakland Local, a novelist and a spoken word artist. She loves genre bending, gender benders and interactive media tools. She was a finalist for the 2005 Glimmer Train Short Story Award for New Writers; she's been published in Rad Dad, Five Fingers Review, Controlled Burn and various sites online. She composes her poems by heart, without writing them down and has been featured at venues all around the Bay, such as the 2009 Nectarena stage at San Francisco Pride, I Am A Man Fundraiser and ShePeoples. Tehea was raised by an exquisite, fierce, working-poor mother. She received her MFA in Writing and Consciousness.