Starbucks’ diversity training won’t help unless it makes white people uncomfortable To be sustainable, it must measure outcomes and give people the tools to enact change

“Diversity trainings don’t work” is an oft-repeated refrain. And yet, Starbucks will devote an entire day to “conduct racial-bias training to address implicit bias and prevent discrimination” for all employees. This decision follows last week’s incident in which a Starbucks store manager called the police on two black men in a Philadelphia Starbucks.

Within moments of the story going viral, many identified implicit bias, on the part of the store manager and/or the police, as the potential culprit. However, this suggests that, as a society, we have overlearned the lesson of implicit bias at the expense of acknowledging other societal and structural factors that might also be at play. Implicit bias alone, as pervasive as it is, cannot explain why black people in America are at risk when we get locked out of our own apartment, have car trouble, laugh with friends and, yes, sit quietly at Starbucks.

Starbucks should absolutely train its employees. But if this training has any chance at making a lasting impact, it should not begin and end with implicit bias. Social science has a lot to say about other elements that should also be included to construct a training that will lead to lasting change.

Create mild discomfort

As humans, our instinct when we feel uncomfortable is to avoid whatever is creating those feelings. However, discomfort is a faulty litmus test for success when it comes to conversations about race. For one, plenty of research shows that white people tend to find conversations about race to be more uncomfortable and anxiety-provoking than black people do. Moreover, experts who study attitudes and behavior emphasize that, without mild discomfort, we may not be sufficiently inspired to change how we think or act. Finally, when we focus on comfort, we may compromise other goals. For example, emerging research demonstrates that framing discrimination as the result of unintentional, implicit bias (rather than intentional, explicit bias) can cause white people to judge the discrimination as less intentional; they also see the perpetrator as less blameworthy and the victim as less harmed. Clearly, we undermine the efficacy of any training when we overprioritize the comfort of the majority in the room.

Bridge the bias detection gap

Conversations about race between white and black people often make it seem that we are living in different countries. And, at least psychologically, that may be partially true. For example, research shows that white people are less likely than black people to consider subtler behaviors (such as feeling uncomfortable around black people) as indicative of racism. These differences in bias detection have measurable consequences, as evidenced by the interpersonal, psychological and physical consequences of contending with bias. Thankfully, some research indicates that educating white people about the subtle discrimination black people face can improve their bias detection. Despite all this, little attention is granted toward increasing the bias detection of white people during diversity training, even though the available research suggests this is exactly what needs to happen. A good training must increase awareness of the differences in bias detection and provide foundational knowledge for attendees about the way the world is — for all in the room.

Provide tools and support to enact change

Finally, this training must acknowledge that many of us have good intentions that fail to materialize into actual behavior. This is especially the case when it comes to speaking out against bias, as concerns about what to say, how to say it and whether it will be effective can cause us to freeze in the moment. If any change is to occur, the training must equip attendees with actionable steps they can take to confront bias in future situations. Then, importantly, there should be time for attendees to practice implementing those steps in a variety of scenarios. This increases the likelihood that they will spring to action in the future, instead of standing on the sidelines hoping or expecting someone else to intervene.

Moreover, Starbucks must reinforce that its culture is one that expects everyone to uphold the shared values of anti-discrimination and inclusion.

Starbucks should pay as much attention to how it will measure its desired outcomes as it does to developing the content for this training. Did people become more aware of the ways that bias manifests? Do they feel empowered to enact change? Do they believe these efforts will be supported by their immediate supervisor and co-workers? In truth, it would be foolish to expect magnanimous behavioral change as the result of one training.

On its own, one training can do little more than increase awareness, state ideal cultural norms and lay the foundation for continued conversation. However, by developing a curriculum that is evidence-based, Starbucks could be an early model for how to develop a diversity training that does, in fact, work. Let’s hope it uplifts implicit bias as a point of entry into a much larger conversation.

Sydel Curry is brand-new, with a new wine, a new Neiman Marcus personal brand — and a new fiancé The former college volleyball player, and younger sister of Stephen and Seth, keeps the faith but also believes in ‘manning up’

The Curry family has been building an empire for quite some time — and Sydel Curry, a former Division I athlete who retired from volleyball in 2017, is a huge part of that. The daughter of former NBA sharpshooter Dell, and younger sister of both NBA champion and two-time MVP Stephen and Dallas Mavericks guard Seth, she is also engaged to Atlanta Hawk Damion Lee.

But Curry has arrived on her own terms. She recently teamed up with Neiman Marcus to launch her own brand, “A Curry Girl.” Curry’s brand is growing through partnerships, but it began with her lifestyle website, a space where she shares her passions, opens up about her faith and spreads awareness about the importance of mental health. “This year, I’m putting myself out there,” she said. “I have true anxiety issues, which is partly why I’m a homebody. But more than anything, I’m an ordinary girl that just wants to create my own extraordinary experiences.” The 23-year-old recently graduated from Elon University, landed a full-time job as service concierge at Tesla and has career goals focused on helping others — all the while trying to live her best life, of course.


Best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

BOW YA NEK. My dad is from a small town in Virginia, and he’s super Southern … ‘Bow ya nek’ is a way of saying ‘man up.’ My dad and I have matching tattoos of it.

Favorite late-night food run?

Wingstop.

Most frequently used emoji?

The crying laughing emoji.

Have you ever been starstruck?

I don’t usually get starstruck, but as I was walking into this year’s NBA All-Star Game and was holding my fiancé’s hand, Jesse Williams walked out of a car. I gasped so loud my fiancé turned and said, ‘Excuse me?’

Last concert you went to?

Daniel Caesar.

“I’ve had a counselor — since a bad relationship I was in, out of high school — and she has really helped me. So I want to be that for others.”

Last show you binge-watched?

Gilmore Girls for the 16th time.

Last book you read?

The Bible.

Favorite place to eat in Oakland, California?

Plank in Jack London Square.

Last stamp on your passport?

Turks and Caicos for a siblings-and-significant-others trip this past summer.

A place you’ve never been to but you’re dying to visit?

I want to island-hop around Greece, which is inspired by The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

Favorite board game?

Monopoly.

Best or most thoughtful gift you ever received?

It’s the simplest ones that I love. For my high school and college graduations, all of my family members made videos telling me how proud of me they are. I rewatch them from time to time.

What would you tell your 15-year-old self?

It’s not that serious.

What’s in your fridge?

Nothing edible! Week-old eggs and wilted spinach.

Who are you as “A Curry Girl”?

A sum of the myself I am to other people … a little sister, a daughter, a fiancée — that’s so weird to say — and a huge believer in God. I’m hardworking, independent and aware of my mental health.

Where do you see yourself professionally in the next five to 10 years?

I want to be a marriage and family therapist. I’ve always had a passion for people and knew I wanted to be a counselor. It’s important that we really nurture ourselves and relationships, and sometimes we need someone to lead the way. I’ve had a counselor — since a bad relationship I was in, out of high school — and she has really helped me. So I want to be that for someone/others.

Where does your courage come from?

From the people around me. I learn a lot from other people and their experiences. I know that if I’m going through a hard time, I know that I’m not the only one.

This week, you and [Stephen’s wife] Ayesha announced that you two are launching a wine called Domaine Curry. What sparked the idea?

In our family, we love wine. We go towards any kind of cabernet that’s big, bold and superjammy. Ayesha and I wanted to do a project together that explains our relationship and explains the women in our family. The 2015 vintage is called Femme 31. In Proverbs 31, it talks about the virtuous woman. There’s a Scripture there that explains how a woman gains her earnings in the field and plants her vineyard. The virtuous woman takes care of her family and herself, just like the women in our family. We wanted to make something we can pass on to [nieces] Riley, Ryan, my future daughter and all of the Curry women.

NBA Finals prediction?

Warriors in five.

From Ken Griffey Jr. to the Braves’ Ronald Acuña — is Major League Baseball still not feeling hats to the back? The long battle cry of the backward ballcap

The baseball cap seems innocuous enough. A brimmed hat emblazoned with a team logo for players to wear while on the field for protection from the sun. Simple. But over the past couple of decades, the baseball cap has become a lightning rod. Depending on the direction it is turned, or who wears it, the cap is a stand-in for the sport’s racially contentious past … and present. From legends such as Ken Griffey Jr. to newcomers such as Ronald Acuña, the baseball cap has been as divisive as a Subway Series.

When is a hat not a hat?


Ronald Acuña (center) of the Atlanta Braves in action during the spring training game between the Atlanta Braves and the Toronto Blue Jays at Champion Stadium on March 13 in Lake Buena Vista, Florida.

B51/Mark Brown/Getty Images

Acuña walked into an Atlanta Braves training camp interview on Feb. 15 and left having been asked to make a sartorial change.

The Venezuelan outfielder signed with the Braves in 2014 and honed his skills with various minor league teams, getting ready for the big leagues. He’s dominated, garnering comparisons to Ken Griffey Jr. for his play, and his swagger. The buzz around him, and superior performance has led him to be named the top baseball prospect entering the 2018 season and has allowed him the leverage to turn down the Braves’ $30 million offer in the offseason. The Braves and the city of Atlanta are head over heels for Acuña and the possibility of what he can bring to the franchise when he gets called up from the Gwinnett Stripers minor league squad at some point this season.

But first, there was that training camp interview.

Braves manager Brian Snitker called Acuña in to address his cap. Acuña had been wearing his hat tilted to the side, and a little bit off of his head because his thick locs were making it impossible for the cap to fit perfectly. The style balked at tradition.

Tradition. Major League baseball celebrates Jackie Robinson day, Latin American athletes, and has launched a diversity pipeline initiative to create more executive positions for people of color, but Major League Baseball and its fans seemingly long for the years of Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio and Ty Cobb. When ESPN ranked the top 100 MLB players of all time in 2015, six of the top 10 players had played before integration. CBS’s 2016 list of its top 10 players also features six players from a segregated league. So when baseball fans talk about traditions or years past, they are talking about a time that excluded black athletes. And that’s not the only hard pill to swallow.

They only saw a black man with his hat backward and all of the negative connotations that come with it — disrespect, nonchalance. Code words.

Other baseball traditions and taboos are alienating to black and Latino fans. Players are supposed to respectfully trot around the diamond after home runs, sans backflips or excessive celebrations. The same self-expression in the form of chest-pounding, trash talk and playing to the crowd that has made the NBA hip — and black — isn’t allowed in baseball. Celebratory dances are frowned upon, part of a culture of unwritten rules with a simple message: Fall in line.

For example, in 2013, Yasiel Puig was pulled to the side by opposing Mets players for rubbing their noses in his home run trot. His offense? Taking 32 seconds to round the bases. All of this is code for following traditions set in stone before black and white and Latino athletes played in the same pro league(s), and when fans were segregated in the stands. And part of those baseball customs is making sure players wear their hats straight.

“It’s the look,” Snitker told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution on March 2. “You do respect the game and the organization and the team on the front of it [the hat]. I tell these guys, we don’t do things like everybody else. There’s a lot of Hall of Famers who spent a lot of time in this organization. We wear batting practice jerseys, and people don’t put glasses on over the ‘A,’ things like that, out of respect for the Hall of Famers that put a lot into this organization, and all those flags that are hanging.”

With all due respect, Snitker’s point is not only silly but it’s another reminder that baseball is about its archaic traditions —the Braves organization was founded in 1871, for reference — more than its players, and what those players represent. Acuña, by all indication, is a transformative talent who can turn the Braves’ future around — the franchise hasn’t made the playoffs or had a winning season since 2013 and hasn’t won a postseason series since 2001. The organization is concerned about how he wears his hat, even as plenty of white Braves players have worn their hats backward, to the side and every other way besides straight.


The Acuña hat issue isn’t a new thing. It’s been around, most famously since the ’90s, when the aforementioned Ken Griffey Jr. was a young, swaggy outfielder who seemed poised to take over baseball. But his appearance — backward hats and untucked jerseys — flouted baseball tradition, and one of the biggest defenders of old customs was then-Yankees and current Baltimore Orioles manager Buck Showalter.

“I shouldn’t say this publicly,” Showalter told the New York Times Magazine in 1994. “But a guy like Ken Griffey Jr., the game’s boring to him. He comes on the field, and his hat’s on backward, and his shirttail’s hanging out.” Showalter added Barry Bonds to his list of transgressors for having his shirttail untucked at the All-Star game. “To me, that’s a lack of respect for the game.” Respect. Tradition. Coded language.

What people who share Showalter’s views didn’t understand or don’t want to understand is that Griffey, who only actually wore his hat backward for batting practice, wore his hats backward as a tribute to his father, Ken Griffey Sr. When Griffey Jr. wore his dad’s hats, they were too big, so his turned them backward so they’d fit. Then he just kept doing it, into his pro career. There isn’t a bigger sign of respect for tradition than honoring a father who also used to play in the very same MLB that wanted to maintain said customs. But the controversy wasn’t about why Griffey wore his hat backward. Nobody seemed to care. They only saw a black man with his hat backward and all of the negative connotations that come with it — disrespect, nonchalance. Code words.

Griffey wasn’t afraid to hit back at his detractors. “Why should I care about a person from an opposing team?” Griffey said to the Seattle Times a week after Showalter’s quotes surfaced. “I don’t take the game seriously? Why, I do believe [Showalter] was coaching third for the All-Star team when I won the [1992] MVP.”

The criticism obviously stuck with Griffey, so he poked at the MLB one last time. When he received his Hall of Fame hat in 2016 during his acceptance speech, the first thing he did was turn it backward. One more reminder that he did it his way.

So what does this all mean for baseball as a whole? It’s about cultural irrelevance. Baseball’s reliance on homogenized traditions is its own Trojan horse, infiltrating the sport’s psyche and destroying it from the inside. Holding on to archaic practices that erase unique expressions uphold whiteness but close the sport off to audiences from diverse backgrounds. And for black fans, it’s demoralizing to see people who look like us, and express themselves like we do get constantly reprimanded for representing our cultural tics on a national stage. It’s a major reason black audiences are flocking to the NBA and the MLB has as few black players as ever.

Here’s a legendary story about Satchel Paige. During a semi-pro game, before his Negro League debut, Paige’s team was up 1-0 in the ninth inning. His outfielders made three straight errors to load the bases. Paige, fed up with his team and determined to show off his skill, walked around the bases and outfield, demanding that his teammates sit down in the infield. Then the legendary pitcher struck out the next three batters to end the game.

It’s a story that has become part of baseball lore for its brashness, showmanship and drama. And it’s the same type of story that would get someone like Paige punished for his bravado if it happened in 2018. However, that story is part of baseball tradition. It’s a part of black tradition. And baseball needs to embrace these traditions — alternative hat placements and all — or else become a cultural relic instead of regaining its place as America’s pastime.

 

The Drake, Kelly Oubre ‘beef’ proves just how good the rapper really is Drizzy is firmly planting himself as a storyline in the NBA playoffs — and the Wizards star may just be a pawn

The Toronto Raptors are up 2-0 in their first round series against the Washington Wizards. And in those two games, Drake has finagled himself into the series’ storylines. Prior to Game 1, he engaged in Instagram comment warfare with John Wall. Exhibit A:

This led to the “God’s Plan” rapper taunting Wall from the sideline during last night’s Game 2. Exhibit B:

During the same game, Drake and third year forward Kelly Oubre crossed paths as the cameras caught the former calling the latter “a bum.” Exhibit C

Leave it to social media to recover an old Oubre tweet from 2011 where the Wizard star said the rapper had no swag—which was deleted almost immediately following Tuesday night’s game. Oubre downplayed the incident, saying the two were jawing back and forth all game. Exhibit D:

The trash talk compounds to a fascinating subplot in the playoffs that highlights court side celebrities involving themselves in the game—most recently evidenced by Dwyane Wade and comedian Kevin Hart in Game 2 of the Sixers/Heat series. But the dynamic isn’t new — the league’s greatest athlete-celebrity rivalry was Reggie Miller and Spike Lee. But let’s focus on Drake for a second. Whether you deem him a fair weather fan or not, there’s no denying his love for the NBA. There’s also no denying everything he does is with a purpose. Drake is either rap’s savviest director, an evil marketing genius or a lovechild of the two. Look no further than last week’s Atlanta episode appropriately titled “Champagne Papi.,” which even served as part of the rollout for his newest anthem “Nice For What”—which, this week, supplanted his previous No. 1 in “God’s Plan” for the top song in the country. And on Monday, he announced the title for his highly anticipated new album—Scorpion dropping in June. All the pieces matter.

His hometown Raptors are the top seed in the Eastern Conference. A potential second round matchup against LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers sits on the horizon pending both advance. And his album could very well drop dead square in the middle of the NBA Finals. From Fortnite to hit TV shows, Drake has firmly entrenched himself in several culturally relevant conversations. The NBA playoffs are just his latest muse.

Fast Break Freestyles: Jadakiss The legendary rapper from The Lox picks his top 5 rappers on the court and spits an original freestyle

Fast Break Freestyles features rappers discussing culture, basketball and their cities. Hosted by DJ Set Free (creator of the AND1 mixtapes), Fast Break Freestyles is a collaboration between The Undefeated and The Compound.

James Harden is the front-runner for NBA MVP, but not in jersey sales The Houston Rockets superstar’s No. 13 only ranks ninth — and something isn’t adding up

The annual drop of the NBA’s top-selling jerseys has arrived, and there’s an especially glaring takeaway. For some reason, Houston Rockets superstar James Harden — the most gifted offensive player on the planet, whose name is essentially Sharpied in as this season’s league MVP — ranks ninth in sales.

Ahead of him (in descending order) are Joel Embiid, Kristaps Porzingis, Russell Westbrook, Kyrie Irving, Giannis Antetokounmpo and a top three of Kevin Durant, LeBron James and Stephen Curry.

Harden’s mark at No. 9, which he also notched in 2016, ties the highest spot he’s ever reached in his career. And this year — despite leading the league through the regular season in points per game (30.4), while ranking third in assists per game (8.8), on the best team in the NBA — the jerseys of four players younger than him (Embiid, Porzingis, Irving and Antetokounmpo) are flying off the racks at a higher rate than his Rockets jersey.

But maybe folks in Houston just don’t like jerseys like that. J.J. Watt, the leader of the Texans and a three-time NFL Defensive Player of the Year, ranked 16th in NFL jersey sales from March 1, 2017, to Nov. 30, 2017.

You gotta think the Beard isn’t trippin’ though. He has a $200 million contract with Adidas to go along with the four-year, $228 million extension he signed with the Rockets last summer. And by June, Harden will be named league MVP. Maybe that’ll give more fans a reason to put his No. 13 on their backs.

Kendrick Lamar’s win proves black lives matter to the Pulitzer board Or at the very least, the concept of black lives

Kendrick Lamar, on Monday, was awarded a Pulitzer Prize for his 2017 DAMN. It is but rather the first nonclassical or jazz work to win the award. The Pulitzer board’s reasoning? DAMN., they said, “captured the complexity of African-American life.” History, made.

Since 2012, with the release of his good kid, m.A.A.d city — and even before then, with a series of acclaimed mixtapes — Lamar has cemented himself as rap’s foremost cultural critic. His music is a palette of relevant topics such as gang violence, police brutality, systemic inequality, mental health and depression, women’s rights and survivor’s remorse. DAMN.’s running theme is Kendrick lamenting upon the idea that no one prayed for him, and that he, a young black man from Compton, California, was left to fend for himself in a world that yielded no other result but early death. We can’t know which songs in particular pushed the Pulitzer judges, but “FEAR.” likely played a part.

If I could smoke fear away I’d roll that m—–f—– up / And then I’d take two puffs, he says on the record (co-written by The Alchemist). Focusing on the specific ages of 7, 17 and 27, Lamar deeply explores the concept of fear and how it dictates decision-making processes. The terror of upsetting his strict mother is the first verse. The second verse takes on the terror of possibly losing his life via gang violence, or at the hands of police. And the third verse delves into self-doubt — the fear of losing the reputation he’s built for himself. The song’s calling card is hopelessness.

I’m talkin’ fear, fear that humbleness is gone/ I’m talkin’ fear, fear that love ain’t livin’ here no more, he opines with a tidal wave of anguish pouring out. I’m talkin’ fear, fear that it’s wickedness or weakness/ Fear, whatever it is, both is distinctive. “FEAR.” is Kendrick’s finest song, according to the Pulitzer winner and 2018 Summer Jam headliner himself:These verses are completely honest.”

Pulitzer cited “vernacular authenticity” as a determining factor in awarding a Pulitzer to DAMN. That’s simply another way of saying, “Damn, I didn’t know it was like that?” Lamar’s music — much like James Baldwin’s words, Marvin Gaye’s harmonies, Angela Davis’ valor, Maya Angelou’s poems, or Muhammad Ali’s swagger — is representative of the generation in which he is a leader. Speaking of Baldwin, he of course said, “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.” That rage in Lamar was certainly too much for the Pulitzer board to overlook.

Adidas doesn’t need Colin Kaepernick in the NFL to sign him to an endorsement deal Three reasons that the quarterback-turned-social activist would be a perfect fit for the culture’s favorite brand

At this point, the rumor of Adidas luring Drake away from Jordan Brand to sign him to an endorsement deal is old news. Now, the multibillion-dollar brand is apparently targeting another big name — one that belongs to perhaps the most polarizing figure in pro sports.

However, according to one of the company’s highest-ranking executives, a partnership with Colin Kaepernick — the accomplished quarterback-turned-social activist (who’s been blackballed from the NFL in the process) — would come under one condition.

“If he signs on a team, we would definitely want to sign him,” said Mark King, president of Adidas North America, on April 13 at Arizona State’s Global Sport Summit. Kaepernick spent the entire 2016 NFL season, then a signal-caller for the San Francisco 49ers, kneeling during the national anthem before games to protest racial injustice against minorities, particularly African-Americans, in the United States. In March 2017, Kaepernick opted out of his contract with San Francisco, making him a free agent. And for more than a year and counting, he’s gone unsigned by all 32 NFL teams.

Since he began kneeling, Kaepernick has sparked a movement of player protests across multiple sports and leagues, donated $1 million to “organizations working in oppressed communities” and been named GQ’s Citizen of the Year. So that brings us to one question: Why does Adidas need Colin Kaepernick in the NFL to sign him?

The answer is the brand, which is endorsed not just by athletes but also by rappers, singers and fashion designers, doesn’t — and here are three reasons why.


Adidas is a lifestyle brand

At its foundation, Adidas is a global sports brand. Yet at its essence, Adidas is a cultural lifestyle brand. You probably can’t tell us what Adidas cleat Lionel Messi is rocking on the pitch, but you certainly know the name of Kanye West’s culture-shaking lifestyle sneakers: the Yeezy Boosts. In December 2017, the brand released an ad titled Calling All Creators, which featured the likes of the brand’s top endorsees, including nonathletes such as Pharrell Williams, Pusha T and Alexander Wang. You can’t tell us Kap wouldn’t have fit into the brand’s one-minute short film (with his Afro perfectly picked out), and the campaign’s overarching message as the creator of one of the most impactful social movements of his generation.

adidas has embraced the pasts of other endorsees

We’re not here to judge people’s pasts; however, let’s check the receipts of two musical artists whom Adidas has signed to endorsement deals. Murder Was the Case is the name of Snoop Dogg’s 1993 track and 1995 movie that both tell the story of the first- and second-degree murder charges of which he was acquitted at the beginning of his career. Nowadays, Snoop is the inspiration behind multiple Adidas shoes and football cleats. On The Clipse’s 2002 record “Grindin’,” Pusha T spits, From ghetto to ghetto, to backyard to yard, I sell it whipped, unwhipped, it’s soft or hard. The Virginia MC isn’t shy about rapping about his history of slanging drugs, and that artistic creativity has contributed to a reputation that warranted a signature Adidas sneaker. But Kaepernick has to be in the NFL to get signed to a deal? C’mon …

Colin Kaepernick is a man of the people

In his first month of protesting back in 2016, Kaepernick led the NFL in jersey sales despite starting the season as a backup quarterback. And by the summer of 2017, his jersey was still selling at a high rate despite him not being on a NFL roster. He boasts a combined 4 million-plus followers between his Twitter and Instagram accounts and was one of the runners-up on the shortlist for Time magazine’s Person of the Year in 2017. And not only did he walk the walk, he talked the talk by living up to his pledge to give back to underserved communities, with donations of $100,000 a month, for 10 months, to different organizations. (He even donated his entire sneaker collection to the homeless.) For a company like Adidas that’s the brand of the culture, it almost seems like a no-brainer to sign a man of the people like Kaepernick. And why not give him his own signature sneaker too?

More Beyoncé gold for HBCUs with new BeyGOOD scholarship initiative The announcement comes days after her Coachella performance

After Beyoncé’s thrilling Coachella performance, which highlighted the rich culture of historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs), the superstar is going a step further to invest in students of select HBCUs around the country.

Through her BeyGOOD initiative, Beyoncé will award a $25,000 grant to one student at Xavier University of Louisiana, Wilberforce University, Tuskegee University and Bethune-Cookman University. The grants are part of the initiative’s 2018-19 Homecoming Scholars Award Program, which will be awarded to all qualifying students studying literature, creative arts, African-American studies, science, education, business, communications, social sciences, computer science or engineering. Applicants must have a GPA of 3.5 or higher.

This is the second installment of scholarships Beyoncé has awarded to students attending HBCUs. Last April, to celebrate the one-year anniversary of her latest album, Lemonade, Beyoncé launched the Formation Scholars award geared toward helping young women at participating HBCUs who studied creative arts, music, literature or African-American studies during the 2017-18 academic year. The idea of that scholarship was to “encourage and support young women who are unafraid to think outside the box and are bold, creative, conscious, and confident.”

“We salute the rich legacy of historically black colleges and universities,” said Ivy McGregor, director of philanthropy and corporate relations at Parkwood Entertainment, which houses BeyGOOD. “We honor all institutions of higher learning for maintaining culture and creating environments for optimal learning which expands dreams and the seas of possibilities for students.”

Winners are set to be selected by the universities and will be announced this summer.

All hail King Bey, queen of the desert and mistress of the internet #Beychella served up a panoply of blackness, from HBCUs to Wakanda and Fela Kuti to Nina Simone

The internet has been taking a hammering lately, especially from people who don’t quite understand it.

Earlier this week, a good portion of the chattering classes tuned their televisions to cable news to watch congressmen grill a tech billionaire using a booster seat about his creation, and how it and Vladimir Putin together might be responsible for the downfall of Western democracy. Or something. Earlier this month, the federal government seized the online classified site Backpage.com, shutting it down and putting sex workers at risk by moving their work further into the shadows, many argued. And the Cannes film festival banned Netflix from entering films in its competition, in part because French film purists argue that Netflix is destroying the communal aspect of consuming film.

If you pay attention to the news, the overwhelming conclusion is that the internet is a dangerous place full of lies, conspiracy theories, hate speech, free porn, and Russian trolls and it’s making us worse as human beings. And there’s some truth to that.

But it’s not the whole story of the internet. Leave it to Beyoncé to remind us.

The first lady of Tidal, Houston, fish fries, and — let’s just say the modern African diaspora — made history (again) late Saturday night as the first black woman to headline Coachella, the oovy-groovy, hippie-dippie, psychedelic-infused annual music festival in the California desert. Naturally, she used it to serve up a panoply of blackness, from historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) to Zamunda to Wakanda to Egypt to Fela Kuti to Nefertiti to Malcolm X to James Weldon Johnson to Nina Simone. But her decision to livestream her entire two-hour performance is what makes Beyoncé as astute as any tech billionaire about the power and possibility of the internet.

It’s not the first time she’s used the internet to vault herself into international conversation. She did it with the surprise release of BEYONCÉ, with the HBO debut of Lemonade, with the launch of her expertly curated website and Instagram account. Beyoncé knows how to create a moment.

But choosing to livestream her Coachella performance signals something more. Rather than limiting her audience to the tens of thousands of ticket-buying festival attendees in Indio, California, Beyoncé created an internet community around #Beychella, harnessing a Southern-fried When and Where I Enter moment to be exported, dissected, and re-created.

This was something everyone with an internet connection got to witness, too. For free.

It’s exactly the sort of democratizing act that used to give us hope in the internet. Because what is the simultaneous clattering of keyboards about #Beychella if not a moment of community, a mechanism for sharing our amens together as we all visit the sanctuary of Beysus?

Fully aware of her dual status as greatest living entertainer and black American woman, Beyoncé didn’t go to Indio to assimilate to the typical Coachella drag of crop-top fringe, ripped denim, and muddy boots. Instead, she brought an HBCU-style halftime show and a probate exhibition, complete with a marching band and dancing dolls. She aggregates elements of black culture, high and low, American, African, Creole, and everything in between, and spits them back out into something new, craveable, and instantly consumable.

Honestly, how many people knew who the orisha Oshun was before Lemonade dropped? Don’t lie, either.

Fully aware of her dual status as greatest living entertainer and black American woman, Beyoncé didn’t go to Indio to assimilate to the typical Coachella drag of crop-top fringe, ripped denim, and muddy boots.

Ever since she released “Formation,” Beyoncé has been exploring ways to carry black people on her back via a series of high-profile, unapologetic salvos in the culture wars. There was the Super Bowl. There was the Grammys. And now there’s Beychella. Forget about Stokely Carmichael in a designer dress. We got Beyoncé in go-go boots.

Thanks to the internet, we bear witness to the way police are weaponized against innocent black people waiting for a friend in a Philadelphia Starbucks. And thanks to the internet, we can rightfully raise hell about it, too. And then, because the nonstop reminders of how black people aren’t fully recognized as people is exhausting and depressing, we can have a much-deserved moment to celebrate ourselves, even if that moment happens to be at 2 o’clock in the morning on the East Coast.

Some will skip over the art and jump straight to arguing that Beyoncé has commodified black liberation.

But I’d say Beyoncé has assessed her power in the world, the possibilities of the internet, and combined the two to march on as an evangelist of black feminism.