Vox Magazine September 2020 Issue

CHURCHES TAKE ON RACIAL JUSTICE PAGE 17

ADVOCACY AND ART PAGE 20

SEPTEMBER 2020 • THE VOICE OF COLUMBIA

OUT OF THE DARKNESS

The personal meets the political in a seismic summer of social justice

MAKE SURE THEY’RE IN THE RIGHT CAR SEAT

NHTSA.gov/TheRightSeat

FROM THE EDITOR

ONE MORE NOTE ON HOPE

W

elcome to the September issue of Vox. Can you believe it’s September and we’re still in the pandemic?

I think I speak for everyone when I say, AHHHHHHADSKLFJADFADFKJ! *Insert meltdown here.* It’s a frustrating, scary time to be a young person right now — especially one graduating in December. Yesterday, I saw a Tweet that said “the only thing worse than being 24 during the virus would be being 23 during the virus.”

Guess how old I am?

Frankly, it’s a frustrating, scary time to be any person right now, and especially a young Black person. In this issue of the magazine, you’ll hear from Ian Laird and Olivia Evans, two Vox contributing writers who are frustrated — and that’s far too gentle a word — by police brutality and racism (p.

7). Ian, in his essay, labels himself a cynic.

“When peaceful protesters are met with violence and a sizable and loud opposition looking to discredit their every move in their fight for justice, it is hard to not be cynical,” he writes (p. 10). I tend to share Ian’s cynicism regarding racism in America.

I’m also cynical (and scared) about the presidential election, the pandemic, climate change, the future of journalism, my university’s plan to keep campus healthy, online Missourian commenters, et cetera et cetera et cetera. In these weeks-turned-months of COVID-19, having hope is something I’ve had to actively work at.

M AN AGI N G E DI T OR CIANNA MORALES

This summer, I made it a goal to choose something to look forward to every day. Very often for me, this is reading. In the middle of summer, a mentor of mine (whose name you will find on this very page) mailed me a book: Almost Everything: Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott. It arrived at the perfect time. Here is a passage from Almost Everything that I return to often, especially now: “We have all we need to come through. Against all odds, no matter what we’ve lost, no matter what messes we’ve made over time, no matter how dark the night, we offer and are offered kindness, soul, light and food, which create breath and spaciousness, which create hope, sufficient unto the day.”

Here are some things that have happened to me during this pandemic: Vacations and plans were canceled. Someone in my family lost a job. Someone in my family died. I got bitten by a million (OK, maybe 30) mosquitoes and one spider.

Here are some other things that have happened to me: I got to see friends and family who live far away. I got a cute pair of shoes for only $8. I’ve remained COVID-free. Someone in my family got a new job. I successfully defended a thesis proposal. I read books that changed my worldview. I had many good meals and many great cups of coffee.

Although it’s hard, I think it’s important to take note of the good with the bad, and to place equal (if not more) weight on the moments that give you hope.

SARAH EVERETT Editor-in-Chief

Behind the issue Writers Ian Laird and Olivia Evans joined Vox this summer as contributors, expecting to report typical summer stories about local news and culture. But as the Black Lives Matter movement swept the nation in June, both felt compelled to pen personal essays about their experiences with racism and protest. You’ll find them starting on p. 7. – Christina Long Correction: A story in the July/Aug issue should have made clear that Sugarwitch Ice Cream Sandwiches closed during the beginning of the pandemic, but Beet Box, a former vendor of the treats, did not.

Photography by Derek Rieke and Armond Feffer

E DI T OR -I N -CHI E F SARAH EVERETT DE PUT Y E DI T OR JARED GENDRON

DI GI TAL M AN A G ING E D IT O R GABY MORERA DI NÚBILA ON L I N E E DI T OR GRACE COOPER ART DI R E CT OR S HOPE JOHNSON, MADISON WISSE PHOT O E DI T OR COURTNEY PERRETT M ULT I M E DI A E DI T O R SAM MOSHER AS S I S TAN T E D IT O RS CULT UR E JESSE BAALMAN, CLAUDIA KHAW, SADIE LEA E AT + DR I N K HANNAH BRITTON, MADELYN ODEN CI T Y L I F E CHRISTINA LONG, EMMY LUCAS, ALEXANDRA SHARP CON T R I B UT I N G W R I T E R S ANGELINA EDWARDS, OLIVIA EVANS, ISABELLA FERRENTINO, REID GLENN, ASHLEY JONES, IAN LAIRD, KATELYNN MCILWAIN, MEGAN SYDOW DI GI TAL E DI T OR S ELIZABETH BENSON, ALLISON BROWN, MIKAYLA EASLEY, GRACE GLANDER, FRANCESCA HECKER, ASHLEY JONES, TYLER MESSNER, LAUREN POLANSKI, LAUREN TRONSTAD M ULT I M E DI A E DI T O RS REID BAYLISS, NOAH CRIDER, ABBY ORF E DI T OR I AL DI R E CT O R HEATHER LAMB DI GI TAL DI R E CT OR SARA SHIPLEY HILES E XE CUT I V E E DI T OR JENNIFER ROWE OF F I CE M AN AGE R KIM TOWNLAIN

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MAGAZINE Cover Design: Hope Johnson and Madison Wisse Cover Photo: Zephyrus Li/Archive On the cover: Kirubel Mesfin kneels during a Black Lives Matter protest June 5 at Stephens Lake Park.

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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IN THE LOOP

FEATURES

05

17

Packing new supplies Returning to class has never looked like this before.

06

How ‘buying Black’ actually helps Vox explores how your pocket change can make a change.

07

Progress beyond the pews Some Columbia churches are fighting for racial justice through action and education.

BY KATELYNN MCILWAIN

20

Passion and purpose Columbia-based performer Joshua Runnels found himself through art and wants to help others do the same.

BY ASHLEY JONES

Summer of protest

CULTURE

If tensions boiled over, Ian Laird wondered if he would be all in.

15

11

Dear white America From police brutality to traffic stops, Olivia Evans recounts her fears as a Black woman.

Sharing still encouraged Is it safe to buy secondhand books in a pandemic?

EAT + DRINK 23

Glazed expectations Hole-y cow, does Vox have the definitive doughnut list for you.

25

More than a meal Soul food nourishes tradition and provides fuel for the future.

27

Making new Waves How ‘bout them apples? There’s a new cider (and orchard) in town.

CITY LIFE 29

Make it count Stay in the know about mail-in ballots and important election deadlines.

30

Small businesses tackle big issues Local shops face repercussions from the pandemic.

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VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

Photography by Leanne Tippett Mosby/Archive, illustrations by Madison Wisse and photography courtesy of Austin Kolb (The Evoke Group) and Unsplash

HELP BLACK-OWNED BUSINESSES THRIVE P. 6

TOP PICKS NOT TO MISS P. 14

Packing new supplies A slew of new items are now back-to-class necessities.

BY SADIE LEA Back-to-school is big business. Even amid pandemic-induced uncertainties this year, Americans are expected to spend more than $100 billion on such items, according to the National Retail Federation. And while mainstays like notebooks, pens and dorm decor remain common, so too are new school supplies like hand sanitizer, air purifiers and upgraded internet.

Although students in Columbia Public Schools started the school year virtually Sept. 8, elementary families could purchase school supply kits for $27. The sanitized kits were created to prevent the sharing of supplies among students. They include pencils, dry erase markers, notebooks and other materials. Some parents are also employing new “supplies,” such as tutors for small educational pods or subscriptions to homeschooling programs.

College students face different challenges as they balance their in-person classes — many moved to larger classrooms to allow space for 6-foot distancing — with attending class via Zoom. New college must-haves include face masks and a phone app for daily symptom check-ins.

With thousands of students of all levels facing new challenges and real fears, one thing is certain: Back-to-school has never looked quite like this before.

Items like hand sanitizer, masks and wipes are unwelcome but needed additions to classroom supplies.

Photo illustration by Madison Wisse and photography courtesy of Unsplash and Pexels

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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IN TH E LOOP SOCIAL CHANGE

How ‘buying Black’ actually helps Shopping at Black-owned businesses is a strategic way to support those who have struggled due to systemic racism.

BY ANGELINA EDWARDS

I

f you’ve looked at social media recently, you’ve undoubtedly seen Instagram posts encouraging you to “buy Black.” But what does “buying Black” actually do, and why does it matter?

To answer those questions, you have to understand some history first.

James Whitt, Columbia’s Director Supplier Diversity Program Development, says Black-owned businesses face struggles that many white business owners don’t. Whitt says the largest roadblock Black business owners face is a historical lack of access to capital. This has its roots in the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944, or the G.I. Bill. This program offered loans to white veterans that allowed them to move to suburban homes after World War II. However, many Black Americans were denied these loans and instead continued to live in more crowded neighborhoods, often renting.

The suburban houses that white Americans purchased continued to grow in value over the decades. Meanwhile, many Black residents were not building that same wealth through homeownership.

“To start a business, you need a certain amount of assets,” Whitt says.

“Most businesses start by investing personal assets, like you’ve got a home, and your home has some equity built up. A lot of our white counterparts have been able to tap that equity for investments.

For minority-owned businesses, we don’t really have that.”

So that’s the “how did we get here” part of the equation. What about how it actually helps?

Della Streaty-Wilhoit is one of Columbia’s struggling Black business owners. Streaty-Wilhoit owns ARW Equity Advisors, a firm that provides services such as diversity training, communica-

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tion improvement and consulting. She says she knows ARW has the ability to create economic and social change but that as a Black business owner, she hasn’t had the chance to participate in the economy at the same level as most white business owners.

Black-owned businesses are often excluded from receiving loans or grants because they have been unable to turn a profit, she says. If more consumers buy from Black-owned businesses, those owners will be better able to pay themselves and employees a living wage, make a profit and qualify for grants and loans.

“How can we possibly get ahead?”

Streaty-Wilhoit says. “I never can promote or build my training firm because people are not going to assist. I cannot pay myself or my employees because the commercial banks are saying, ‘What do you have as collateral?’”

The racial wealth gap is no myth. According to the Economic Policy Institute,

BLACK-OWNED SHOPS IN COMO One way to find Black-owned businesses in Columbia is to check the Minority and Women Owned Business Directory at como.gov.

As non-Black Americans work to learn more about historical and systemic racism, many people have sought out Blackowned businesses to support.

average wealth for white families in the U.S. is seven times higher than average wealth for Black families.

Further, according to an August report from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, “weaker cash positions, weaker bank relationships, and preexisting funding gaps” already left Black-owned businesses more vulnerable before the pandemic. Now add in an economic downturn and disparity in how Paycheck Protection Program loans are given out, and the existing problems are compounded.

Whitt says more Americans buying from Black-owned businesses could help close the racial wealth gap. Whitt says Black-owned businesses often hire employees within their own communities, which provides opportunities for living wages for Black employees. “We start driving down this disparity between white unemployment and Black unemployment and bringing more Black people into the working world,” Whitt says.

It also helps widen the concentration of Black business activity beyond urban areas and supports people who are disproportionately disenfranchised

by COVID-19 and other existing economic factors.

And Streaty-Wilhoit adds that Black businesses deserve that opportunity. “We can say we have a business, but until we can economically participate, it’s no good sitting at the table,” she says.

Illustrations courtesy of rawpixel.com

I N T HE LO O P ESSAY

Ian Laird (left), lies on the pavement for a chanting exercise lasting 8 minutes and 46 seconds.

Summer of protest What it’s like to be a burgeoning activist in the heat of Black Lives Matter protests.

BY IAN LAIRD

L

et’s get one thing out of the way: I am a 20-year-old Asian-American man whose economic and racial privilege has sheltered me from experiencing the discrimination that Black Lives Matter stands against.

Don’t get me wrong. I have experienced and understand racism. I have been called racial slurs. People have followed me in stores.

They have crossed the street, locked their car doors, or clutched their purses when they see me approaching. None of it compares to the pain that Black people experience every day.

I have never had a difficult or unreasonable interaction with law enforcement. I’ve never felt like there was a target on my back because of who I am. I don’t have to worry about my life at every moment due to my skin color.

Nonetheless, I became deeply passionate about racial injustice as I grew more receptive to the experiences of those around me.

Awakening activism I became conscious of racial injustice when Trayvon Martin was killed in 2012. I remember seeing the looks of defeat in the hallways of

Photography courtesy of Ian Laird

my Seattle middle school. I assumed most of these Black students were seeing for the first time why their parents had warned them and given them advice about how to deal with the police and other figures of authority.

For someone who had previously been ignorant to society’s injustices, Martin’s death was a sobering wake-up call.

Then, I remember learning in high school that a police officer shot a former student, MiChance Dunlap-Gittens, eight times in his own driveway during an undercover operation. Police were investigating a crime to which he had no connection. The fatal shot struck Gittens in the back of his head. He was 17 years old.

The same mixture of dejection and anger that had been present after Martin’s shooting coursed through the halls again. If Martin’s death was my wake-up call, Gittens’ was what galvanized me to reeducate myself.

Raising my voice I couldn’t bring myself to watch the tweeted video of George Floyd’s final moments on

the morning of May 26. I knew how it would end. I would hear helplessness and fear in his voice. I would see a cold and uncaring look on the officers’ faces.

I expected the response to be the same as any other time a Black life was taken at the hands of law enforcement acting with impunity.

I thought there might be a week of protests and some hashtags on social media before people receded back to their comfortable silences. I didn’t think much would be done to change the fact that Black men are about 2.5 times as likely to be killed by the police as white men.

I went to the first protest on May 29 in Columbia with my roommate, Kirubel Mesfin, who photographed the event. It didn’t feel any different from protests I attended in the past, but I still had hope that maybe the movement would last.

As a kid, it was hard to grasp how I could make a difference on such an overwhelming issue. I still don’t know the answer, but what I do know is that I have a newfound confidence in voicing my feelings about racism.

I solidified this confidence when a group of my friends joined the protests at Country VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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Club Plaza, a historically white and privileged shopping district in Kansas City, on May 31.

In the heat of the night We arrived to the Plaza at about 4 p.m.

Protests were expected to continue past the 8 p.m. curfew, and we planned to stay as long as we were safe. The crowd chanted, marched and faced off with law enforcement. According to KCUR, a local radio station, crowds surged to a couple thousand at the peak.

At one point, police unleashed pepper spray on the crowd. I hung back with the group while Kirubel was up front gathering footage. Suddenly, we heard shrieks and shouts.

I called Kirubel, and all I heard were the words “I got hit with pepper spray.” My heart dropped. I asked Kirubel to repeat what he said to make sure I’d heard correctly, and he confirmed what I didn’t want to believe.

I had my doubts throughout the day about how committed I would be

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if tensions boiled over, but hearing my friend say police pepper-sprayed him crossed a line I didn’t know existed.

Kirubel was dragged into it, and now I was all in.

We headed down Kansas City’s Main Street as curfew approached. The sunset painted the sky fiery orange and pink above multiple blocks of protesters. The column of people was a blend of roaring dirt bikes, cars that blasted music, and gas mask-clad protesters who used traffic cones as extinguishers for tear gas canisters. The heat waves that rose off the pavement distorted the red and blue lights of the police cars.

The protestors collectively decided at 8 p.m. to head back toward the J.C. Nichols Fountain. The roles suddenly reversed as police began to close in and nip at our heels. Snipers perched on rooftops watched every inch of pavement and grass. It felt like we were cattle being herded toward a slaughterhouse.

A line of police in riot gear stood shoulder-to-shoulder across all seven

lanes of Main Street. We continued to close the distance, and with just over a block remaining, I heard popping sounds. Then chaos ensued.

Screams of terror erupted on a scale I hadn’t heard before. Within seconds, I saw vapor rise from the front line within a hundred feet of the police. Realizing that tear gas was being fired, I grabbed my antacid spray and yelled

Citizens march in front of the courthouse on May 29. The march went around three blocks.

Photography by Marco Storel/Archive

I N T HE LO O P ESSAY

Laird was first exposed to racism as a teenager in Seattle before attending MU.

Kirubel’s name. I eventually saw his head perk up, and we locked eyes. He worked his way to me through the sea of people, who all now moved backward up the hill to escape the gas.

Suddenly, I felt a burning sensation in my eyes. We approached the police line again after waiting several minutes for the chemicals to dissipate. But the gas canisters had already released their contents into the night air.

I felt the sting of the gas creep up again as I started to push Kirubel up the hill. Unlike before, the sting intensified as we trudged away. I wanted to run, but I knew that would only lead to more panic, so I tried to remain calm.

I heard someone behind me beg for water to wash his eyes. Kirubel was gone when I turned to help them.

I frantically looked for Kirubel in the crowd, but the gas had ramped up and overwhelmed me. I don’t remember too much of what happened next.

After at least three or four minutes of blindly stumbling around, I opened

my eyes again to find myself in a crowd at the top of a hill. My face and shirt were stained with a mixture of tears and antacid spray. I was unable to wipe away the crust around my eyes because traces of gas clung to my hands. My mask was soaked from choking and coughing.

Dust unsettled Once I reconnected with my friends, Kirubel recounted the moment of our separation. He had closed his eyes because of the gas and grabbed a nearby shoulder thinking it was me. When he reopened his eyes, Kirubel realized he had grabbed the shoulder of a stranger and was lost among a crowd of people.

I don’t know if there is a way to truly explain the panic I felt in those few minutes, but Kirubel managed to find some words for it.

“Do you know what kind of fear you have when you’re in a crowd of 10,000, and you came with five other people, and you don’t know where they are?” Kirubel asked later while speaking

PLEASE STAY 6ft APART

THANK YOU FOR WEARING A MASK! Photography courtesy of Ian Laird

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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IN TH E LOOP ESSAY

to the crowd at a protest on June 9 in Columbia. “That fear that I had at that moment I know is nothing compared to being on the pavement for 8 minutes and 46 seconds and not being able to breathe.”

He’s absolutely correct. What we, and thousands of people across the world, have experienced during these protests will never compare to the terror Floyd felt as Derek Chauvin’s knee pressed into his neck. What he felt is real terror, the primal instincts that cause a grown man to call out for his deceased mother.

Other than the occasional rogue protesters throwing empty water bottles, I didn’t see anything throughout the night that would’ve provoked the police. Yet they indiscriminately fired tear gas at us and also used rubber bullets later on. They responded to cries to end police brutality with violence. They sowed terror through a crowd that resulted in mass stampedes of people half-blinded by tear gas.

Days later on June 4, we went back to Kansas City to protest. The police remained at least a block away from the crowd throughout the entirety of the night. There were no incidents or es-

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calations, proving that police were the initial provocateurs that first night. The previous protests would have remained peaceful without their intervention.

Conflict continued Anyone who thinks systemic racism will somehow dissolve or be completely wiped away is living in a fantasy world. In that world, we somehow magically come up with an absolute cure for centuries of injustice. In that world, there is no way Jacob Blake gets shot seven times in the back after months of protests across the globe. In that world, Kyle Rittenhouse doesn’t kill two Kenosha protesters and injure another for believing Black lives matter.

But that world doesn’t exist. Instead, we have to face the reality of Blake being demonized and having his criminal history brought up as if that somehow justifies the police firing shots. We have to absorb the infuriating juxtaposition of Tamir Rice being gunned down for holding a toy gun while Rittenhouse got to walk past police officers carrying the weapon he used to spill more blood on streets that have been soaked with death this summer.

Kirubel Mesfin, a sophomore at MU, speaks to a crowd during a June 9 protest downtown.

Protesters (below) bow their heads in front of the courthouse June 6.

You might think my outlook is cynical. You would be right, I am. I am cynical that this country actually wants change.

When peaceful protesters are met with violence and a loud opposition looking to discredit their every move, it is hard to be optimistic.

Asking for a complete dismantling of the racist systems that make up our society may seem like asking for the impossible, but it will be what forces progress. Even if that progress is painfully slow and incremental, I tried to step up.

I’m not a big talker, but this summer I was challenged to have conversations about systemic racism. And I talked with people here and back home in Seattle. In the middle of the summer, those discussions and the protests felt like the baby steps that would propel us toward change. Now I’m unsure.

There still is value in public dialogue and protest because they can alter the mindset of individuals, though they might not affect the system that is changing at a glacial pace.

It’s horrifying that it took so long for the country to reach what appears to be a breaking point. Now we get to find out how dedicated we are to actually creating change.

Ian Laird is a junior at MU studying economics and journalism with an emphasis in multimedia reporting.

Editor’s note: Laird was charged with second-degree property damage related to sidewalk graffiti in July near the Thomas Jefferson statue on the MU campus.

Photography by Zephyrus Li/Archive and courtesy of Ian Laird

I N T HE LO O P ESSAY

Dear white America Take time to understand the fear that’s just under the surface, and then do something about it.

BY OLIVIA EVANS

I

t seems everyone wants to go viral. I don’t. It seems everyone wants to be trending on social media. I don’t. It seems everyone wants their own hashtag.

I don’t.

If I go viral, it’s too late. If I’m trending on social media, there’s nothing left.

If I have a hashtag, I’m dead.

What’s the difference between you and me?

I’m Black. I’m a Black woman. I’m a Black woman living in the U.S., a country that has historically shown its contempt for me based solely on the amount of melanin in my skin, the kinks in my hair and the story of my ancestry. Will a police officer’s body cam footage make me go viral? Will my name trend on social media because of one false move? Will I be a hashtag because I’m dead?

Photography by Grace Noteboom

These are the kinds of questions that course through otherwise innocuous encounters with police officers.

Black kid in a white neighborhood I was fortunate to grow up protected. My parents did everything they could to shield me from the hate that so naturally drifted toward me. It wasn’t until I was older, and I personally experienced the hate, that I truly understood. I was born in Shreveport, Louisiana, but raised in Louisville, Kentucky. Both southern states have a complex racial history.

One of my earliest memories of witnessing the racial divide is from third grade in Louisville. During the 2008 presidential election, things were tense in my blue city that was and is surrounded by a sea of red. My white mother was volunteering in

Olivia Evans constantly worries that she might be unfairly stopped, or worse, while driving.

Her car, a Chrysler 300 that she named Christie, was a gift from her father when she was 16.

my classroom, along with a host of other white mothers. They were discussing a new busing proposal that would bring more kids from the predominantly Black and lower-class West End to schools in the East End. One mother voiced her opinion: She didn’t understand why they were bringing “bad little Black kids” to her child’s school.

My mother pointed to me and said, “Like her?” The other mother, not realizing my mom was pointing to her own child, continued to talk about how I and the few other Black kids in our class didn’t need to be on her end of town. My mother was furious.

I had my fair share of other uncomfortable encounters while growing up, but for the most part, I was afforded the chance to be a kid — playing with the other neighborhood children, riding bikes, playing kickball. I applied and was accepted to one VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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IN TH E LOOP ESSAY

of the most prestigious high schools in the nation, where I flourished as a student, athlete and person. I went out and partied with my friends. I lived my life, but reality crept in.

When I was in high school, a neighbor posted a video of me on the neighborhood Facebook page. It was me arriving home in my car, and the message warned others to look out for the “young African-American who doesn’t look to be from around here.”

Even though I had lived there for years.

Even though I was driving my dad’s car.

Why don’t I belong?

I am a Black woman in a society where white is the standard. A night in July 2017 made me realize the lies I told myself about how far we had come.

Fear at a traffic light I was driving home one summer night with the windows down, blasting music when N.W.A’s “Fuck tha Police” came up on shuffle. The song, released in 1988, used to piss me off. It had seen a resurgence in 2014 following the killings of Michael Brown, Freddie Gray and Eric Garner at the hands of police, but I had never identified with it as an anthem of protest against police brutality. When I was younger, I didn’t understand how a group who actively committed crimes had any right to use such lyrics — to be so angry.

But that night, I decided not to hit skip, and I actually listened to the outcry against police brutality. Suddenly, I felt that my frustrations were recognized.

Song still blaring, I stopped at a red light, and a police officer pulled up beside me. Despite knowing I had done nothing wrong, I panicked. The officer glanced at me, and a series of questions and scenarios sprinted through my head: Should I take my hood down? Can he hear the song I’m playing? Do I turn off the music? Are my hands at 10 and 2? And the list goes on. The light turned green, and he sped away. I sat there.

I was so relieved, I cried as the weight of the situation left me but also as a deep-seated pain grew heavier.

I had never felt that level of fear near police officers before. It was a turning point for me. In the following three years, I became more aware of the use of blatantly aggressive force against Black people by police. I started to see the effects of police

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brutality, and I started to understand how my Blackness could be seen as a threat.

In that moment, sitting next to an officer and listening to “Fuck tha Police,” I knew there was a lot that still needed to change. I shouldn’t be afraid of sitting in my car when I am following the law. The song, the climate of police brutality, my growing sense of personal awareness and the reality that my white mother couldn’t always be there to shield me, all heightened my reaction to the situation. Neither I nor anybody else should have to feel how I did.

At 18, I was driving home with two white friends from a party late one weekend night when a police car whipped out behind us. One friend was drunk in the back seat, and I told her to stop acting wildly. Instead, she turned and looked straight out the back window at the officer. I was furious and scared. I pleaded with her to stop drawing attention to us. Meanwhile, I instructed my other friend to get my registration out of the glove box.

Drawing attention to yourself around police officers is just about one of the worst things you can do when DWB (driving while Black). To my worries, my friend responded, “My dad’s in the service, [the cop] won’t do anything to me.” And you know what, she was right. I screamed back at her, almost in tears, “I’m Black! He might shoot me.” The officer followed us until I turned into a predominantly white and upper-class neighborhood in the East End of Louisville.

A gun aimed at me The next time I had an encounter in my vehicle with a police officer, I was a student at MU. In 2018, I came to Columbia as a track and field athlete and confronted anew situations where my race played a role but was not a factor for white friends and teammates.

I was driving back to the dorms after a get-together. My car sits five people legally, but I had six people in the car, so I acknowledge the infraction. When we were less than a mile from the dorm, one of my passengers said he was about to vomit. I pulled over as quickly as possible and turned on the hazards. Then I saw the red and blue lights pulling up behind us and an officer get out.

Rather than approach my vehicle and ask if we were OK, he drew his gun, yelled

Evans, (above with her father, Antonio), grew up in the East End of Louisville, Kentucky, where she says she was somewhat protected from racism.

As she got older, she began to have experiences that opened her eyes to a different reality.

UNEVEN STOPS The 2019 Missouri Vehicle Stops Executive Summary tracks traffic stops using a disparity index. An index over 1 means that a demographic group is overrepresented relative to their population. For Black drivers in 2018, the index was 1.78.

at me and shined a flashlight into my eyes.

I was terrified. There was a gun pointing at me, and I was blinded by his flashlight.

He demanded my license and registration. I complied, but I made sure he knew there were no weapons in the car, and I narrated each move as I slowly reached for the documents. The officer yelled at me, “I don’t need narration. Just hand it to me.” Confused, a teammate who was an international student athlete, looked at me and quickly grabbed the registration and said, “What? It’s not like he’s going to shoot you.” Silently, I thought, but he just might.

After looking over my information, the officer handed everything back and ordered me to go home. His parting comment was that it was a good thing he likes college sports, because everyone in the vehicle was a college athlete. I got Photography courtesy of Olivia Evans

I N T HE LO O P ESSAY

back to my dorm and cried myself to sleep that night.

Differences between you and me I am a law-abiding citizen, but I am significantly more likely to be pulled over for a traffic stop in Louisville, in Columbia and in the U.S. in general because I am Black.

According to the 2019 Missouri Vehicle Stops Executive Summary, the disparity index for Black drivers in vehicle stops is 1.78.

A disparity index of 1 would mean there’s no disparity. Anything over that indicates an overrepresentation in traffic stops.

Every time I drive back to Missouri for school, my mom reminds me to put my license and registration in my passenger side sun blocker for easy access, and my dad reminds me which parts of southern Indiana and Illinois have heavy highway patrol.

It might be easy to dismiss these anecdotes by calling them irrational fears, by saying I shouldn’t be driving around late at night or that nothing bad really happened.

It might be easy to dismiss them because these are experiences most white people

will never share. But these incidents are not special to me. They are part of the Black experience. I fear that one day, I won’t be so lucky, and my life will slowly fade out of my body while I choke out the words “I can’t breathe,” or that maybe it will end quickly as bullets pierce my flesh and my blood stains the street.

I write this down, not to shame anyone for whiteness, but rather to highlight profound differences that come with being Black in America. I’m always looking over my shoulder. The feeling of being on guard every moment of every second of your life is tiring, painful and unjust. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. If these aren’t things you think about daily, ask yourself why.

The truth hurts. My truth is that because of my skin color I am perceived as inherently more of a threat, a danger and a target for violence. White America, by changing your truth and working to educate yourself about the Black struggle, by getting to really know the Black people in your life, by advocating for us with your privilege, and by treating us as brothers

BE THE CHANGE Evans helped organize and participated in March with Mizzou Sept. 2, an event hosted by the Mizzou Black Student Athlete Association. The march and sit-in allowed Black athletes to raise concerns over social injustices and call others to action.

and sisters, you begin to change my truth.

You harness more power in our country, and I am depending on you far more than I would like to admit.

I don’t want to sit down with my Black child one day and explain how to survive a traffic stop, listen to him or her cry about the hate in our world, explain that their grandpa or their daddy was hurt by the police, and have the same conversations my parents had with me.

In a society where “my identity by itself causes violence,” as Eazy-E says in that polarizing N.W.A song, I can see that we are not too different in 2020 compared to what we were in 1988 when he recorded those words. I need my white friends to acknowledge and use their privilege to uplift me. The battle is no longer simply for equality. I need equity. As a country, we need change, peace, and a justice system that values me the same way it values you.

Olivia Evans is a junior journalism major and a member of the MU track and field team.

She is the public relations chair of the Mizzou Black Student Athlete Association.

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IN TH E LOOP VOX PICKS

Vox Picks for

SEPTEMBER Each month, Vox curates a list of can’t-miss shops, eats, reads and experiences. We find the new, trending or underrated to help you enjoy the best our city has to offer.

BY MADELYN ODEN

Sip...

Protect…

Yourself and others with a mask that’s comfortable and pretty.

Embroider It has a variety of face coverings, from customizable fabric masks to disposable ones, and even KN95 surgical masks.

With a wide array available, you can choose the mask that suits you best.

Embroider It, 601 Business Loop 70 W, Mon.–Fri., 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., 234-2951

On a refreshing beverage at Shortwave’s new location, which will be a blend of a bakery and a cafe, or at Hitea, the new bubble tea store in town. The second Shortwave location will be at 29 S. Ninth St., formerly home to Kaldi’s Coffee. The new spot will make its debut in September and updates are posted on the coffee shop’s Facebook page. If you’re looking for a change of pace, Hitea, located at 16 N. Tenth St., offers current fads in the bubble tea scene, such as brown sugar boba and tiramisu flavored teas.

Shortwave Coffee, 915 Alley A, Mon.–Sun., 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., 214-0880; Hitea, Mon.–Sun., 11 a.m. to 8 p.m., 507-6380

Select...

A minimalist, fine-lined design at Columbia’s new tattoo parlor: Iron Moe’s.

Asked to describe his tattoos in one word, owner Maurice Rogers, better known as “Iron Moe,” calls them cute.

He has been tattooing for the past 10 years and decided to open up shop in Columbia after requests from customers.

Iron Moe’s, 816 E. Broadway suite 202, Tues.– Thurs., Noon to 8 p.m.; Fri.–Sat., Noon to 10 p.m., Sun., Noon to 8 p.m., 489-2643

Suit up…

For the second Wonder Woman film. The movie was originally set to be released in August, but it was pushed back due to the pandemic. The film will premiere in theaters Oct. 2, so make sure to prepare for Wonder Woman 1984 by rewatching the first movie and other DC Extended Universe films.

Wonder Woman is available for streaming on HBO Max (with subscription) or Amazon Prime (rent, $3.99; buy $14.99)

Discuss…

Books with authors through Skylark Bookshop’s virtual events. The next event will examine sexual violence, featuring authors Michelle Bowdler and Alisson Wood and their nonfiction books, Is Rape a Crime? and Being Lolita, respectively.

Sept. 15, 7 to 8:30 p.m., see skylarkbookshop.com/new-events for more, 777-6990

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Photography courtesy of Unsplash, Rotten Tomatoes, Skylark Bookshop and Embroider It

Yellow Dog Bookshop sells new selections from local poets and authors, as well as pre-owned books.

Sharing still encouraged Keep buying and selling used books with our guide.

BY KATHERINE STATER There’s just something special about having a book in your hands or sitting on the nightstand. The pages flutter as they turn and the book slowly gets thicker in your left hand as you near the end.

But to save trees, keep your bookshelf space under control and reduce the cost, buying, trading and checking out used books can be a better option, even during COVID.

Photography courtesy of Yellow Dog Bookshop

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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C ULTURE BOOKS

their donations in one of the store’s bins to be quarantined for 72 hours. Masks or face coverings are required to enter the store, and fitting rooms are closed. Goodwill offers contactless checkout options, including Apple Pay and Google Pay. 1405 Grindstone Parkway, current hours are 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. every day MU and Columbia College The MU and Columbia College campus bookstores also sell used books. Many English and humanities classes utilize books that might double as entertainment and homework. When shopping around, keep in mind these books are held for students and therefore can be more expensive.

MU, 901 Rollins St., see themizzoustore.com for hours; Columbia College, 1009 Rogers St., see ccis. bncollege.com for hours When the initial pandemic wave hit the United States, many secondhand industries were the first to be affected because of concern over contaminated items. Then, such stores closed during required shutdowns.

Now, with new procedures in place for donated items, used book stores are open again with limited occupancy and mask requirements, and some offer curbside pickups or mail out customers’ selections.

Adams Walls of Books This little shop has one of the biggest varieties of books and is one of the oldest bookshops in Columbia. The shop was started by Ike Adams in the 1950s, and his daughter, Nancy Duncan, continues to keep it open today.

Customers describe the small shop, located next to The Social Room, as a step into Harry Potter’s Diagon Alley. The twisting, narrow shelves of books cover every inch of the store. If you plan to visit the store, be sure it’s on a Saturday, as that’s the only day each week the store is open.

214 N. Eighth St., Saturday, 1–4 p.m.

Friends of Daniel Boone Regional Library Not only can you check out books at the library, you can also buy some of the older ones, or at least you could preCOVID. The nonprofit group Friends

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of the Library traditionally hosted four large used book sales each year at the library, along with smaller, sometimes weekly sales with prices as low as 50 cents per book. Proceeds from the sales go back to the library.

Because of COVID-19, the Columbia Public Library began quarantining recently returned library books in the room where the book sales were previously hosted, so for now, the sales (and used book donations) are on pause.

The Friends group is offering book bag sales where it selects titles to fill up bags with books for $3 a bag. Customers schedule appointments to pick up the bags.

100 W. Broadway, Mon.–Fri., 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.; Saturday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Goodwill of Columbia Goodwill of Columbia sells all manner of used goods — from clothes to shoes to pots and pans. For books, the prices vary based on the condition of the donated items. The nicer and less markedup books are, the more expensive they are going to be. Expect to pay about $10 per hardcover and less for paperback.

These are donations, and therefore anyone looking to unload some merchandise will not be given money in return for the books.

According to Goodwill of Columbia’s website, all donors will be asked to put

Christian and Theresa Nelson flip through used books at Daniel Boone Public Library.

The library isn’t having regular sales right now but offers book bags of used titles for $3.

Yellow Dog Bookshop Yellow Dog Bookshop is one of the best known used book shops in Columbia thanks to its downtown location on Ninth Street. It reopened at the end of June and allows five people in the store at a time with masks.

“In preparation for opening, we tried to get piles off the floor and made it more open to feel like you can social distance,” says owner Joe Chevalier.

Yellow Dog sells a variety of book genres. As with most used book shops, the stock is mostly limited to what people bring in to sell. The shop will not accept most textbooks (although it will take books required by some humanities classes such as The Great Gatsby).

Purchase prices for used books range from 92 cents to $12 for paperbacks and hardcovers, with prices for rare and collectible books from $50 to $100.

Chevalier says sellers have a couple of options to get money for their books.

He generally buys paperbacks for 15% of the cover price and hardcovers for 10% of the cover price.

The shop also offers a book box subscription that goes out every two months and has some of its current inventory posted to Facebook for book lovers to browse online.

8 S. Ninth St., Mon.–Sat., Noon–6 p.m.; closed Sundays (for now) Photography by Hannah Sturtecky/Archive

Vo aith ri F u o s Mis

ices

Tyree Byndom protests at Let Freedom Ring: A March for Black Lives on July 4, which was hosted by five local churches, including Missouri Faith Voices.

y Cit , 301 E. Capito son l A ve . , J e f f e r

PROGRESS BEYOND THE PEWS Columbia church leaders address the intersection of racial injustice and religion.

BY KATELYNN MCILWAIN What would Jesus do?

The question is often posed in Sunday school classes or abbreviated on silicone wristbands.

But recently, many Christians are asking the question as it relates to the Black Lives Matter movement.

To Kevin Larson, the lead pastor of Karis Church in Columbia, the answer is simple: “I

affirm, without reservation, that Black lives matter.”

Larson, who is white and leads the largely white congregation, says Jesus’ example of ministering to marginalized groups demonstrates the heart Jesus would have had toward racial injustice. Specifically, the story of the Samaritan woman, found in the book of Luke, inspires

Photography by Leanne Tippett Mosby/Archive and illustrations by Madison Wisse

Larson. In this time, some Jews were hostile toward Samaritans, and many looked down on the woman for sleeping with many men.

“She has what you could call kind of a sketchy background, and Jesus just walks up to her and engages her and shows value for her,” Larson says. “So it just seems like Jesus tried to pursue and engage VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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with people who were being devalued and neglected by others.”

Jesus’ example also inspires Rev. Cassandra Gould, who was the director of Missouri Faith Voices for five years. Missouri Faith Voices is a statewide multiracial and multifaith organization committed to fighting injustice and inequality.

On the Fourth of July, Gould’s organization co-sponsored a Columbia march called Let Freedom Ring: A March for Black Lives.

“Jesus’ ministry was a radical, revolutionary ministry,” Gould says. “Jesus does not just have this one act of kicking over the tables in the temple, but even that act was about expelling corruption from the community, where people actually engaged in financial predation and in taking advantage of the most vulnerable in the community.”

So if Jesus was an advocate for justice and helping those in need, why might some Christians be hesitant in supporting the movement?

Gould, who is Black, says resistance comes from the church’s history of being complicit in racism.

Specifically, American churches have systemically worked against

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racial injustice, including supporting racial segregation and violence against Black churches.

“People who went to Africa, particularly from England, identified themselves as Christians,” Gould says. “The forefathers of the United States described themselves as Christians, and at the very same time, they decided that my ancestors were only fit for slavery. Christianity at its purest level would denounce that. But the church at large has been conditioned by people who used Christian language, the Christian Bible, preached and taught in Christian churches, all while engaging in a demonic activity of enslavement.”

Brad and Vicki Boyd-Kennedy, leaders within Rock Bridge Christian Church, both say hesitancy to advocate could be because it’s easier

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to stay silent. Rock Bridge Christian Church has a largely white congregation, and both Boyd-Kennedys are white.

Brad Boyd-Kennedy says he thinks the prosperity gospel, also sometimes called the “health and wealth” gospel, stumps some Christians. The theory promises material wealth in exchange for following Christ. Mark 11:24, for instance, without additional context, might support the prosperity gospel: “I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

This idea promises wealth that has been and still largely is systemically harder for Black people to obtain, Brad Boyd-Kennedy explains. “It’s painful to notice that the system isn’t working that well for so many people,” he says. “So

MU sophomore Kiessence Bassett (far left) says substantive changes must be made to support Black students. She, along with members of Rock Bridge Christian Church, joined Let Freedom Ring: A March for Black Lives.

is the capitalist system that some people very much benefit from really God’s plan for creation? The way we understand things — not without serious reform.”

“We’ve just gotten so comfortable with our American life,” Vicki Boyd-Kennedy says. “We don’t like to see pictures of kids starving. We don’t want to think about how our actions have a domino effect. We don’t like to think about that, and I even don’t like to think about it.

There’s times I get overwhelmed, but that’s my privilege. I have the privilege of being overwhelmed and backing off and being scared.”

Larson says now is the time to address this racist history head-on and listen to the pain Black people are sharing.

“I don’t have patience with the ‘all lives matter’ response because I

Photography by Leanne Tippett Mosby/Archive and illustrations by Madison Wisse

think it’s just a statement that seems to silence what Black brothers and sisters are trying to say,” Larson says.

“Sin is a structural sin. It’s systemic. Sin impacts everything around us. And I think it’s made a world that has harmed and hurt people of color. The church has too often just stood there and let it happen or made excuses or said, ‘yeah, but.’

And we, as the church, want to do something about it.”

Larson and Karis Church members have long discussed racial injustice, even before the movement had a large-scale resurgence in June with demonstrations in Columbia and around the world. In February 2019, four Black pastors delivered weekly sermons at Karis Church during Black History Month, with each

pastor giving a lecture and discussion over lunch afterward.

The church read The Color of Compromise by Jemar Trisby, a book that examines the church’s historical support of racial injustice, and hosted Columbia’s Juneteenth celebration.

At Rock Bridge Christian Church, the Boyd-Kennedys are educating their congregation about the city’s African-American Heritage Trail. The trail commemorates places and people important to the history of Black people in Columbia, including Sharp End, a Black business district that existed before urban renewal projects forcibly relocated Black business owners.

The church also participated in a book study of Dear White Christians by Jennifer Harvey. Brad Boyd-Kennedy says the book’s key point is the church often preaches the value of diversity, but does not actively practice its own message. “(The church) allows us to feel like we’re really creating change by appreciating diversity. But at the end of the day, we still go into our

own segregated neighborhoods,” he says. “The primary step is reparations: Christians repenting the sins of white supremacy. After real, physical, material repair has been made in society, then reconciliation is a meaningful thing.”

The Boyd-Kennedys choose to actively fight racial injustice by supporting the Race Matters, Friends Community Bail Fund, Black-owned businesses and the Black Lives Matter movement.

Rev. C.W. Dawson Jr. (far right) speaks about justice, freedom and trust at Let Freedom Ring: A March for Black Lives. Brittany Hughes (left) adds to the conversation by reading a list of demands “for safer and more just communities.”

Although not present at the rally, Karis Church has led its own initiatives to promote racial justice.

Photography by Leanne Tippett Mosby/Archive and illustrations by Madison Wisse

Gould and Missouri Faith Voices host press conferences with local organizations to discuss the Missouri Attorney General’s vehicular stops report. This report highlights the higher rate of traffic stops among Black people in Missouri.

“I’m praying that after this, the church can actually own its rightful place of being the moral voice, as well as this moral compass, that actually leads and guides communities,” Gould says.

K a r i s C h u r c h , 6 0 6 R i d g e w ay A v e .

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JOSHUA RUNNELS JOSHUA RUNNELS NELS JOSHUA RUNNELS NELS passion JOSHUA RUNNELS NELS and purpose JOSHUA RUNNELS NELS JOSHUA RUNNELS NELS JOSHUA RUNNELS JOSHUA RUNNELS ........

JOSHUA RUNNELS FROM CHICAGO TO COLUMBIA, JOSHUA RUNNELS MAKES THE WORLD HIS STAGE.

BY ASHLEY JONES

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JOSHUA

C Chimes and strings hummed in the background of the band’s opera rendition of Langston Hughes’ “My People.” The crowd that packed Cafe Berlin at the True/False Film Fest’s Saturday night concert in March reached from wall to wall as owners turned people away at the door because the space was at capacity. Everyone wanted to see loose loose perform.

At the mic was one of the co-lead singers of the Columbia-based band, Joshua Runnels.

Also known by his stage name, J.Artiz, Runnels has a passion for music, poetry and education.

It was Runnels’ brother Anthony “DJ Prof” Runnels who helped him create his stage name, J.Artiz. “He helped me find my identity as myself, and he helped me identify my name and the fact that I’m an overall artist, and I aspire to indulge in any forms of art,” Runnels says. “And so it was a moment where I came up with the name J.Artiz just to kind of simplify the definition of art. Art is, as it exists, let it be.”

A legacy of leading youth and community arts trails behind him — it’s a path he started in Chicago and continues in Columbia.

FINDING HIS VOICE Runnels grew up in Oak Park, Illinois. He found his singing voice in his dad’s church choir and realized its power in his seventh-grade chorus class. He would often imitate Michael Jackson’s singing, but the time came for Runnels to sing in front of his class. With his back facing the crowd, he sang Stevie Wonder’s “My Cherie Amour.” Runnels, along with the whole class, was shocked to find out how well he could sing.

He went on to record a few songs with his high school friends and has pursued music throughout his career.

Most recently, Runnels performed with loose loose, a soul-based band, at Ragtag

.......................

Photography courtesy of Joshua Runnels and design by Hope Johnson

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Photography courtesy of MU Theatre and Austin Kolb (The Evoke Group)

Joshua Runnels, a local musician and youth advocate, sports a lion’s mane in his performance as Lion in MU Theatre’s 2019 production of the “The Wiz.”

Cinema’s 20th birthday bash on Aug. 15 after live performances had halted for months amid the pandemic. Runnels says it was the interaction with the crowd he missed. “Music has its own language,” he says. “It’s a conversation between you and the people you’re playing with.” In another recent musical endeavor, Runnels was featured in vocalist and songwriter Shah Brielle’s new music video “Coming Home,” which was released Aug. 10 on YouTube. Runnels has also shifted his music production to his home studio, allowing him to spend more time with his children.

EXTENDING A HAND Runnels moved to Columbia in 2017 in search of new job opportunities and to continue to work with youth. He has been a youth leader since his days in Chicago, where he worked with children as a track and field coach and an instructor for a life trajectory and goal-planning course at Chicago Public Schools.

In Columbia, he first got involved with Youth CoMo Works as a youth development specialist in 2017 where he focused on getting students released from juvenile detention centers job-ready. After that, he began working with the J.W. “Blind” Boone Community Center where he was an outreach coordinator and helped start its first teen center and after-school program, Moving Ahead, to help students with academic and life skills. Today, he educates students through a teen outreach program under Youth Community Coalition for schools in Columbia as well as outside of Boone County.

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JOSHUA RUNNELS 22

Columbia-based band loose loose performs at True/False Film Fest’s Saturday night concert in March. Joshua Runnels (left) is one of the lead singers.

IGNITING A PASSION Beyond singing and working with youth, Runnels expanded his art to spoken word when he was introduced to Louder Than a Bomb, the largest slam poetry competition in the world, while living in Chicago.

In 2018, Runnels found a way to combine his experience with high school programs and his passion for poetry when he had the idea to start a mid-Missouri chapter for Louder Than a Bomb. He worked with the founders of the competition to create a chapter in his new home community: Columbia. “They gave me the tools; all I had to do was find the community,” Runnels says.

Runnels found his answer when he attended OneMic Poetry Collective, a monthly open-mic series at Cafe Berlin. There, he met the event’s founder, T’Keyah Thomas, and fell into a community of artists. Runnels had the plan, and the two collaborated to create Louder Than a Bomb’s mid-Missouri chapter.

“He just pulled out a folder and had literally everything that we needed to know, what we needed to do, it was like a literal blueprint,” Thomas says. “His passion reignited mine, and he’s been my partner in success ever since.” Now, Thomas and Runnels are coordinators for the mid-Missouri chapter. It

offers workshops to seven high school chapters and community groups that extend to Jefferson City.

“The impact from allowing someone to share their story and what it does for the development of their own lives individually is great,” Runnels says. “These students are going to be the next generation of leaders to change the world.”

FURTHERING HIS PURPOSE Runnels’ latest involvement in youth advocacy comes from his recent job as one of the coordinators of partnership and education for True/False Film Fest. His job includes coordinating Camp True/ False with about 35 local students from Columbia Public Schools and MU. He leads them through a course of activities, workshops and film screenings.

Through self-discovery, Runnels identifies art as a main part of himself. And through artistic education, Runnels teaches young people to find their true selves, too. “My purpose is to exemplify love in the purest form possible,” Runnels says. “I think my purpose is to spread that as much as possible to others.

My passion through doing it is the tool of art, performance and expressive art.”

SERVING UP SOUL P. 25

WAVE HELLO TO WAVES CIDER P. 27

Glazed expectations Doughnut know what to eat for breakfast?

These shops have you covered.

BY REID GLENN We’ve all been there: looking to satisfy a sweet tooth with no idea where to go. Our guide to Columbia’s best hole-y treats is here to fix your confection conundrum.

Donut D-Light, Dunkin’, Harold’s Doughnuts and QuikTrip will all get your mouth watering for these sweet treats.

Photography by Meredith Lehman/Archive and courtesy of Unsplash and Waves Cider Co.

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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E AT & DRINK BAKERIES

Midwestern charm: Donut D-Light The inside of Donut D-Light feels exactly like you’d imagine a small-town doughnut shop would. It’s narrow with classic Midwestern decor. Employees behind the counter greet everyone who walks in, and that service is what made customer Steve Carter a regular. “The ladies are real friendly, and it’s the people that mean everything,” he says.

The service and ambiance are great, and the doughnuts don’t disappoint either. The yeast doughnut has a perfectly light flavor and texture. The combination of customer service and quality doughnuts complement one another to create one of Columbia’s finest pastries.

1301 Vandiver Drive and 3301 Broadway Business Park Court // 814-2304 // Mon.–Fri., 6 a.m. to noon; Saturdays, 6 a.m. to 1 p.m.; Sundays, 7 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Basic glazed doughnut price: $1.75 per doughnut or $13.80 per dozen Wow factor: Service with a smile

With all of these shops open past lunchtime, doughnuts are perfect for any time of day.

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Sprinkles on top: Dunkin’ With three locations in Columbia, Dunkin’ is convenient for anyone to grab a doughnut or coffee.

The doughnuts at Dunkin’ check all the boxes. Soft? Yes. Cheap? Yes. Tasty? Yes. Because it’s a national chain, you know the atmosphere to expect at Dunkin’. The standout factor for this shop among its Columbia competitors is the variety of toppings adorning the glazed

treats, including cookie crumbles or more classic options (read: sprinkles, please). The vibrant options will appeal to any child — including those young at heart.

3075 Rangeline St. (north), 821 Elm St. (downtown) and 3100 S. Providence Rd. (south) // 607-3865 (north), 476-6341 (downtown) and 514-7020 (south) // Daily, 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. (north); daily 6 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. (downtown); and daily, 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. (south) Basic glazed doughnut price: $1.39 per doughnut or $7.18 per half-dozen Wow factor: Sprinkles Homemade: Harold’s Doughnuts January marked Harold’s Doughnuts’ fifth year as a Columbia staple. The shop uses family recipes from founders Michael and Karli Urban to craft confections from scratch. Looking at the bakery’s selection of doughnuts, it’s obvious these round delicacies are made by hand. None are exactly the same, but they all taste heavenly.

The pastry chefs frequently create new concoctions, such as a dragon fruit-flavored doughnut. Flavors change seasonally, so it’s worth checking to see what’s new in the shop from time to time.

114 S. Ninth St. (downtown) and 204 E. Nifong Blvd. (south) // 397-6322 (downtown) and 447-7555 (south) //Daily, 6 a.m. to noon Basic glazed doughnut price: $1.10 each or $10.00 per dozen Wow Factor: Made from scratch Quick and easy: QuikTrip When hunting for the best doughnuts our city has to offer, gas stations probably don’t come to mind. But QuikTrip’s variety and convenience merit inclusion. Feeling tired at 2 a.m. and need a sugar boost? Grab a cup of coffee and a cake doughnut. Want a different dessert? Snag a long john.

QT’s offerings are big and fluffy, and its glazes are rich and thick. One specialty is a scrumptious clump of doughnut holes fried together in a pull-apart treat.

3211 Clark Lane // 886-0171 // Open 24/7 Basic glazed doughnut price: 99 cents per doughnut or $3.99 per half-dozen Wow factor: ’Round the clock  Photography courtesy of Unsplash

E AT & DRI N K RESTAURANTS

More than a meal For the owners of Big Daddy’s BBQ, Papadoo’s, Mr. Murphy’s Stuffed Potatoes and Ms. Kim’s, cooking soul food is about life and legacy.

BY ISABELLA FERRENTINO

I

t’s not always clear what “soul food” really means. Is it synonymous with Southern food? Is it a subset of Southern food? Is it catfish, collard greens and cornbread? Is it uniquely or historically Black?

In The New York Times, Todd Richards, author of SOUL: A Chef’s Culinary Evolution in 150 Recipes, says that soul food is a Black art form passed down like a good story; it is a “gospel, and chefs are its preachers,” he writes.

But Virginia Willis, author of Secrets of the Southern Table: A Food Lover’s Tour of the Global South, offers a different perspective on soul food in the Times.

“Down here,” writes Willis, who is from Georgia, “I don’t see the food being specifically black or white. It’s more a question of who is doing the cooking.

And that has a lot of complicated answers.”

In an editorial for Delish, chef Millie Peartree says the definition of soul food is changing. She explains that during the Transatlantic Slave Trade, enslaved Africans were given low-quality food rations. Think: beans, greens and cornmeal.

African people found many ways to use what they

had, and that adaptability is found in soul food today. Pork, Peartree writes, is a common ingredient in soul food and is used for anything from seasoning vegetables and stews to dehydrating and pickling pork rinds and pig feet and ears.

But, she says, Black people “shouldn’t have to take the brunt of a stigma that was brought to our front door.” She points out that fried chicken actually came to the U.S. in the 1900s with Scottish immigrants, and the ancient Greeks grew kale and collards without making a distinction between them. But Black people did.

“I believe we have evolved, though, in the ways we use some products,” Peartree writes. “I believe the definition of soul food has expanded and should also come from the heart.”

Mindful that the definition of soul food is always changing and should come from the heart, Vox asked four local chefs what feeds their souls.

Big Daddy’s BBQ Husband and wife Lloyd and Fontella Henry have

Ms. Kim’s frog legs basket was served with greens and sweet potatoes. The restaurant currently is closed while the owner looks for a new location.

THE DEFINITION OF SOUL FOOD HAS EXPANDED AND SHOULD ALSO COME FROM THE HEART. –Chef Millie Peartree

Photography by Amber Garrett/Archive, Tim Nwachukwu/Archive and Quinn Ritzdorf/Archive

owned Big Daddy’s BBQ for five years.

Fontella opened the business after retiring from her job as a police officer.

The only store-bought menu item at Big Daddy’s is the French fries — everything else, even the seasonings, is homemade.

“My best memory here are my customers and them coming back and telling us how much they enjoyed it, sharing their experiences with somebody,” Fontella says.

What feeds Fontella’s soul: Catfish and spaghetti and meatballs. “It’s soul food,” she says, “The first time I ever made some spaghetti, I made it for some of my police friends. I had them over to our house, and we had catfish and spaghetti and meatballs.... It’s just heritage, and that’s the way my mom cooked and that’s the way her mom cooked and our grandparents and so on.”

1205 N Garth Ave. // Don’t miss: beef brisket // Price: $9 // Wed.–Sat. 11 a.m. to 7 p.m.; March 15 to Nov. 1.

Mr. Murphy’s Stuffed Potatoes Mr. Murphy’s Stuffed Potatoes, as its name suggests, specializes in stuffed spuds and nachos. Jheron Nunnelly has owned the food truck for a year.

“The goal is to have a restaurant and have it family-run,” Nunnelly says. “My son wants to do this. I just want people to know that there’s a route besides basketball and music and everything else. Think outside the box. I don’t want people to think that we have to fall into a stereotypical job.”

What feeds Nunnelly’s soul: “When I think of soul food, I think of food that might not necessarily be good for you, but it’s good for your soul,” Nunnelly says. That attitude applies outside his business. “At home, I feed my biggest critics — my kids. One meal they never complain about is my Nacho Average on house-made chips. Nachos are always a go-to in our house, but the house-made chips are a bonus for the kids.”

Don’t miss: BBQ spud with pulled pork // Price: $10 // The food truck travels around mid-Missouri, so location and hours vary. See Mr. Murphy Stuffed Potatoes on Facebook for updates.

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E AT & DRINK

Papadoo’s Soul Food & BBQ Joshua Williams has been running Papadoo’s for two years. The owner’s inspiration for his food comes from his background in Louisiana and Texas.

“I had pretty much nothing when I came here from Texas,” Williams says. “I like to show people where I’m from.

You can make it in Dallas, you can make it in the hood, you can make it anywhere. You can fulfill your dreams.”

What feeds Williams’ soul: “When I’m cooking, I think about everybody. I think about my grandma. She was a big person on influencing me on how to cook. She cooked everything every day,” he says. “Everybody stopped by her house once a day because you knew she had food on the stove. I like to be that person you go to when you’re hungry and you don’t know what to eat. Granny always had that one thing all the time.”

904 Business Loop 70 E. // Don’t miss: the oxtails // Price: $15 // Tues.–Sat. 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.

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VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

Ms. Kim’s Fish and Chicken Shack This restaurant specializes in soul food based on family recipes dating back six generations.

The owner, Kimberly Perry, explains why she chose to serve these dishes when she opened it in 2015.

“My fondest memories are my grandfather catching bluegill and buffalo or carp, and he would fillet them, and we would eat them for dinner,” Perry says. “We would even eat fish for breakfast. Me trying to keep my family traditions alive helps my customers remember theirs. Family is what has made this restaurant.”

What feeds Perry’s soul: With the restaurant closed for now, Perry is still working hard at her home kitchen. “My most popular dish lately is fried chicken,” she says. “Even chicken and noodles, chicken and rice, baked chicken. I was taught how to make oven-fried chicken, which is awesome.”

Don’t miss: collard greens // Price: $4.99 for a pint, $1.99 for 6 ounces // Hours: COVID-19 took a toll on the restaurant, and Ms. Kim’s was forced to close due to high rent.

The restaurant will reopen once the family finds a new location. See Ms. Kim’s Fish & Chicken Shack on Facebook for updates.

Photography by Hope Howard/Archive and Tim Nwachukwu/Archive

E AT & DRI N K BEVERAGES

we only distribute to 38 counties, and that’s after six years.”

There are plans for limited cider can and bottle lines, but Ball says the majority of cider Waves makes will stay in central Missouri. “We don’t anticipate going across the state very quickly,” he says. “It’s going to be a slow process.

We’re still new to cider making, so we want to make sure we’re putting up the best product we can.”

Riding a new Wave Logboat’s co-founders brewed a brand-new business this summer.

BY SARAH EVERETT

L

ogboat Brewing Co.’s cider offshoot, Waves Cider Co., opened this July, prevailing in spite of the pandemic. Vox spoke with Judson Ball, Logboat’s co-founder and director of marketing, about plans for the new spot, located at 604 Nebraska Ave. Here are our top questions for Ball and co., answered: 1. Why cider?

“From the get-go, I think having a very diverse portfolio of beverages was important to us,” Ball says. Logboat’s current beer offerings contain malted barley, but cider doesn’t, which means it’s a viable option for a gluten-free crowd, including Ball himself.

“About three years ago, after we started the brewery, I found out that I was allergic to beer,” he says. “I was

in that demographic of people that couldn’t have any of our offerings.”

Ball says this opened his eyes to how many people are gluten-free or allergic to beer. “We started playing with some other beverages and all really liked cider and the process and how much you could do with it,” he says.

Waves Cider Co. (above) opened in late July. Some of the ciders are made with locally sourced apples. Saplings in an orchard (below) are grafted, where a piece of wood from another tree helps the sapling get started.

3. How is the cider made?

Making cider, much like brewing beer, involves fermenting. “We’re just fermenting apple juice,” Ball says, “instead of using wheat and barley to extract all the nutrients from them.” When you visit Waves, you’ll be able to see the tanks of juice as you sip your cider.

“We’ll also work with some local farmers to source apples and then press those apples in-house and ferment those juices for some smaller batch, more boutique ciders,” Ball says.

The crew has been working with Adam Saunders, owner and operator of Adam’s Apples, to connect with local farmers and to start an orchard of their own — about two acres of apples.

Planting will start in spring 2021.

“Cider apples are a little different than the apples you get at the grocery store,” Saunders says. “They have a different flavor profile that makes them not necessarily good to eat, but when

2. What types of cider will Waves offer?

Initially, Waves will offer two ciders.

“We’ll also be serving ciders that we don’t make, just so if customers come in and want to get an idea of what we will be doing, we’re carrying the best ciders that we can get our hands on,” Ball says.

Bottle- and can-wise, Ball compares Waves to how Logboat started its distribution: slow and steady. “We don’t distribute across the entire state yet;

Photography courtesy of Judson Ball and Adam Saunders

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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E AT & DRINK

how well do you know these

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girls?

crushed and fermented, adds a lot of character to the cider.”

In August, Saunders will do the grafting for apple trees that will bud next spring. “There’s a little bit of surgery you do,” Saunders says of the grafting process, which involves slicing open the root stock and inWAVES CIDER CO. serting a healthy 604 Nebraska Ave. apple tree bud.

Find current hours: “ Yo u s l i d e wavescider.com Cost per glass: $6 in just one little bud, off of a good variety, like a GoldRush, or any of these hundreds of varieties,” he says. “You slip it under the bark. You wrap it in some rubber bands.” The grafted tree will grow about shoulder-high and then can be planted in an orchard. Farmers use grafting because cuttings don’t root easily.

Saunders preps the trees in his nursery downtown. “There’s about 1,000 trees that I’ve grafted there that are going out to Waves’ orchard and a couple of other orchards around the area,” he says.

Saunders is excited for the trial and error of it all. “There’s a lot we’re going to learn in the coming years about flavors and what grows well here and what tastes good in cider,” he says.

4. What else will be served over on Nebraska Avenue?

Waves will also serve wine, Logboat beer and some specialty cocktails. The concept behind the cocktails is to play with flavors from other fruits, botanicals and hops that work well with cider, sales manager Nick Hardy says, and the cocktails will change seasonally. This summer will start off with two cocktails: a grapefruit, mint and dry cider cocktail and a berry, gin and dry cider cocktail.

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5. What’s it like to open a business during a pandemic?

“We feel like we have a pretty good grasp of operating procedures and following city guidelines and making sure that our staff and our patrons feel comfortable at Logboat, so we’ll just want to make sure that we do the same with Waves,” Ball says.

Waves opened to the public on July 30.

“We feel really great about the space that we’ve created, and we’re excited to share it with everybody,” he says. “It’s just a matter of making sure we do it safely and responsibly.”

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

THE FUTURE OF SMALL BUSINESS P. 30

Make it count Know your voting options and deadlines for election season.

BY ALEXANDRA SHARP This November, the country will vote in the presidential election, and Missourians will elect their governor. An August Pew Research Center survey predicts a massive voter turnout for the 2020 general election, with 83% of registered voters saying it matters who becomes president.

Due to COVID-19, if you have the virus or are at-risk, in Missouri you can request an absentee ballot that does not need to be notarized.

Save the date The last day to register to vote in Missouri for the Nov. 3 general election is Oct. 7.

Boone County polling locations will be open from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. The last day to apply for a mail-in or absentee ballot is Oct. 21. Applications are available on the Boone County Clerk’s website.

Location, location, location Any registered voter can cast a ballot at 801 E. Walnut St. There will also be an MU campus location open to all registered voters at either the Hearnes Center or Mizzou Arena, says Boone County Clerk Brianna Lennon. The location was undecided as of Sept. 3.

According to The Atlantic, the USPS processes 500 million pieces of mail every day, and there are about 150 million registered U.S. voters. Postal Service officials say the USPS has the capacity to meet the projected election mail volume despite any mailing increase due to COVID-19. Election mail arrives within two to 10 days, but the Postal Service cannot guarantee a delivery date or alter policy to align with state election dates or laws.

Illustrations by Hope Johnson and photography by Taylor Freeman/Archive

Signed, sealed, delivered Voting in person is not the only option.

Anyone can request a mail-in ballot, which must be notarized. If you are unable to vote in person due to state absence, physical disability or illness, employment, religious belief, incarceration or participation in Missouri’s Safe at Home program, you are eligible for an absentee ballot. This ballot must be notarized unless your request claims a physical disability or illness.

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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CITY LIFE BUSINESS

Even with its dining room closed, Café Poland’s pickup window has allowed the business to continue serving customers safely during COVID-19.

Small businesses tackle big issues The pandemic has had a major impact on how business owners operate, and some changes could be permanent.

BY MEGAN SYDOW

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veryone has been forced to adjust during a time of mask requirements and social distancing guidelines, including small businesses. Harold’s Doughnuts added a walk-up window at its downtown location. Flyover began to offer takeout, a first for the South Columbia restaurant. The Missouri Alcohol and Tobacco Control lifted its ban on selling alcohol to go.

COVID-19 has turned “normal” into a thing of the past. And for small businesses, the new routine determines their futures. In downtown Columbia, the “old normal” included bustling streets full of college students and

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VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

locals, but downtown is now quieter because of the pandemic.

Nickie Davis, executive director of the Downtown Columbia Improvement District, says the pandemic is “probably the most tragic thing that could have happened” to Columbia’s local businesses. As of Sept. 2, four bars and restaurants in The District, including Kaldi’s and The Penguin Piano Bar, have permanently closed. And the food industry isn’t the only one being affected.

The Small Business Administration’s Paycheck Protection Program, which aims to prevent layoffs at small businesses, granted loans to 304 businesses in Columbia, according to KOMU. Salon

BUSINESS CLOSURES

BY THE NUMBERS The Federal Reserve of New York found that nationwide, the number of businesses owned

by Black people fell by 41% from February to April of this year. Latinx business owners dropped 32% and Asian-owned businesses reduced by 26%, while businesses owned by white people fell by 17%.

Nefisa, owned by Sara El-Toumi, was one of those 304, and El-Toumi says the loans were helpful in easing the financial burden of the pandemic.

Businesses such as Salon Nefisa have incurred extra costs for necessary operational changes. For El-Toumi, that meant purchasing disposable masks, extra sanitizer, plexiglass shields for the reception desk and manicure stations and more cleaning products for the salon’s two locations. Plus, Salon Nefisa has moved styling stations farther apart to ensure the recommended 6-foot distance is maintained. El-Toumi says she doesn’t know what measures might remain in place in a post-pandemic Columbia, but that she wants customers to continue to feel safe.

Restaurants, on the other hand, might see some safety measures stick around. “People are avoiding crowds,” says David Steffes, central regional director of the Small Business Development Center for Missouri. “Some like to have hands-on experience, but a lot of people are still hesitant to go out in public, and because of that, curbside pickup, delivery or online shopping have become popular.”

Davis and Steffes both say the future will likely see curbside pickup and other shopping alternatives become permanent options, and shoppers and businesses could continue to follow the guidelines enforced now to protect people from COVID-19. Community support will also determine the outcome for small businesses.

“I think the local shops in Columbia have a loyal customer base, just reminding (customers) that they’re still here and they’ll welcome them back with open arms,” Steffes says. “That will be necessary to combat the struggle of COVID-19.”

Photography by Grace Noteboom

photo finish

Winding and waiting PHOTOGRAPHY BY ETHAN WESTON AND ELIZABETH UNDERWOOD For most of August, Mizzou North on Business Loop 70 West was MU Health Care’s only drive-thru COVID-19 testing location. MU Health Care operated two locations until Aug. 3, when the original location in the Mizzou Softball Stadium parking lot was closed as demand for testing had “leveled off” in the community, according to an MU Health Care release. Long lines still formed at the second location, with cars snaking around cones. As of Sept. 2, MU Health Care had performed 47,993 COVID-19 tests across its 25-county service area. On Sept. 1, three weeks after students moved into on-campus housing at MU, MU Health Care announced that the original testing location in the softball stadium lot would reopen due to an increased demand for tests.

VOX MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2020

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