Michael Bloomberg, former New York City mayor, multibillionaire, and hardcore advocate for the expansion of Stop-and-Frisk—the racist and discriminatory policing policy that targeted Black and Latinx people, has admitted that his 2020 presidential campaign exploited prison labor to make phone calls on the campaign’s behalf.

The Intercept‘s John Washington broke the story, reporting last week that Bloomberg’s campaign contracted with New Jersey-based call center company ProCom. Two of the company’s call centers in Oklahoma are operated out of state prisons, with incarcerated people in at least one of the prisons contracted to make calls for the Bloomberg campaign.

Exploited workers incarcerated at the Dr. Eddie Warrior Correctional Center, a minimum-security women’s prison with a capacity of more than 900, disclosed that they were making calls on behalf of the Bloomberg campaign, but not that the calls were coming from prisons, nor that they were incarcerated.

Bloomberg campaign responds to that Intercept story. pic.twitter.com/CYdbcNwZev

According to ProCom co-founder John Scallan, his company pays the Oklahoma Department of Corrections the Oklahoma minimum wage of $7.25 hourly. The DoC then pays incarcerated workers, who earn up to $27.09 a month. Scallan insists that some of the workers “are making that much every day.”

“We didn’t know about this and we never would have allowed it if we had,” said Bloomberg spokesperson Julie Wood. “We don’t believe in this practice and we’ve now ended our relationship with the subcontractor in question.”

Read the full report at The Intercept.

The post Michael Bloomberg Admits To Exploiting Prison Labor To Make 2020 Campaign Phone Calls: ‘We Didn’t Know’ appeared first on Essence.

It’s the question that might cause the biggest controversy among anyone who grew up reading Little Women and watching one of the many versions of Louisa May Alcott’s classic story: Are you a Jo? A Beth? A Meg? An Amy? Usually, it’s assured-in-her-ways Jo who gets the love, while shy, quiet Beth and practical Meg each have their own easily relatable qualities.

And then there’s Amy. Sweet, young Amy with her impressionable naiveness. Amy, who is bratty, who is selfish, and who so many people love to hate. In fairness, their feelings are not without reasons; the youngest March sister is the one who ends up with Laurie and burns Jo’s precious manuscript—two significant plot points that tend to paint her in a less than favorable light. (The book burning, happening in the early pages of the novel, is enough to cause readers to hold a lifetime grudge.)

Alcott’s tale of four lovable sisters growing up during the Civil War has been adapted numerous times over the years. But despite the differences between director visions and actresses, one thing remains the same: Amy is continuously hated and forever misunderstood.

Wilson Webb/Sony Pictures

There’s a scene that occurs in the later half of the new adaptation of Little Women, when Amy is talking to Jo about her writing, giving her the advice that will eventually lead to Jo writing the story of her sisters. “When did you become so wise?” Jo asks. Amy, undeterred, replies with, “I always have been, you were just too busy noticing my faults.” It’s an exchange that pretty much sums up how we’ve long viewed a controversial character, and it also feels like a sly jab at everyone who has dismissed Amy over the years—because Greta Gerwig might have finally changed that perception in the newest version of Alcott’s story.

It’s impossible to talk about Amy in this movie without giving credit to Pugh, who delivers an incredibly nuanced, layered performance that has been rightfully praised. Amy has never received the same love as her siblings, perhaps because it always seemed “cool” to dislike the character. But Pugh imbues Amy with a delicate balance of empathy and conviction, of carefree youth and mature determination. She allows us to understand Amy’s trajectory and helps us see the physical and emotional growth that takes the character from an annoying, reckless little sister to a mature, elegantly-dressed, sensible adult.

The most recent Little Women also doesn’t brush the often contentious relationship between Jo and Amy under the rug, pretending it doesn’t exist. Instead, via a past and present timeline, it peels back the layers of every fold and wrinkle that contributes to understanding how these characters advance their own personal narratives. Presented this way, we’re able to see the similarities between two sisters who have always seemed like polar opposites but who are, in reality, very much alike. That, in turn, helps us understand one of modern literature’s most polarizing characters.

Wilson Webb/Sony Pictures

For example, when young Amy talks loftily about wanting to be the best painter in the world and Beth mentions that’s not any different than Jo’s writing aspirations, Jo agrees. “But it sounds so crass when she says it,” she adds, brushing off Amy’s words the same way we usually do—as immature chatter. Beth’s sensible observation is true, though: Amy is just as stubborn and artistically inclined as Jo is. Amy wants the same things Jo wants. The difference is that Amy is willing to be adaptable when things don’t work out whereas Jo refuses to compromise. It’s this difference that makes Little Women so beloved—even though all four sisters disagree on the ways life should be lived, they have a warm and universal bond that transcends their disparate views. And yet, that aspect of Alcott’s story is something everyones fails to consider when they think about or look at Amy March.

In Gerwig’s film, we finally get to see Amy be strong, not selfish, when she declares she wants to be “great, or nothing” as an artist. We finally get to see her be decisive, not irrational, when she tells Laurie she understands exactly why she needs to marry rich even though she has a choice not to. While Jo continues to admirably hustle for her dreams, Amy eventually comes to understand she might never be “great, or nothing.” Once she realizes she can’t make her way in the world through her talent, she settles on the decision to marry. (And it’s worth noting that Gerwig does a sensational job of letting us see Amy’s love and pining for Laurie from their childhood, making it clear that she’s always cared about him and loved him by the time she chooses him.) Amy’s decision is a smart one, a sensible one, and one that she makes after a healthy amount of growing up—so what’s wrong about her choice to put herself and her needs first, especially knowing that doing so will benefit her family?

Gerwig’s answer to that is it’s not wrong at all. And because she puts a large spotlight on the character, making her a centerpiece of the film, for the first time in seven adaptations Little Women doesn’t feel like a personality quiz. It doesn’t feel like we’re being forced to pick a personality we identify with, or that we’ll be “shamed” if we don’t like the character everyone thinks we should like. Watching this version of Little Women, it feels like we’re looking at these sisters with a new appreciation and in a brand new light. And although the writer in me is admittedly most like Jo, I am and have always been proud to be an Amy—something I hope a new generation will also feel proud to say, thanks to Gerwig’s film and Pugh’s performance.

Featured Image: Wilson Webb/Sony Pictures

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When Disney first took over Lucasfilm and the promise of more Star Wars films filled the air, the announcement of standalone non-Saga films gave many fans a sense of both anticipation and anxiety. Some fans, like myself, had found almost as much joy from the Knights of the Old Republic video game series as we had the Original Trilogy. For us, the promise of a new series of films that would explore heretofore unseen aspects of the Star Wars universe in cinematic form was highly, highly enticing. 

Yet when the initial “standalone” projects were announced, I raised my eyebrows. A semi-prequel about the Death Star and the Young Han Solo Adventures? They seemed to tie in too close to the Original Trilogy to really fulfill this idea of expanding the universe. Though I ended up loving both movies, I never fully shook that feeling about what I saw was the wasted potential of the idea of non-Saga Star Wars movies. 

LucasFilm/Disney

It wasn’t until I got Disney+ that a few lingering feelings about both movies fell into place. Finally, after years of not having the cable package for it, I was able to binge-watch the Star Wars Rebels animated series. Rebels serves as something of a sister series to Clone Wars, featuring characters and resolving plots from that show. But it’s the way that it also ties into both A Star Wars Story films, especially Rogue One, that made me feel like the two films and the series function as an almost unofficial fourth Star Wars trilogy.

This trilogy doesn’t tell the story of one specific set of characters. Instead, it tells a visual and thematic one. One that gives a previously unseen glimpse into the age in between Republic and Rebellion. A trilogy about the age of imperial dominance and the build-up to the Galactic Civil War.

In the original Star Wars film, we know the Empire is bad, sure. Vader and his crew capturing and torturing the princess, of the Stormtroopers’ murder of Luke’s family and the Jawas, and of course the utter destruction of Alderaan. But we never see Alderaan. Its loss is only felt through Leia and Obi-Wan. Troopers poke around Tatooine. Vader and company arrive at Bespin for the first time. We never see life on an occupied world.  Our awareness of the presence of the Empire is almost always through the lens of military engagements.

With Rebels, Rogue One, and Solo, we instead witness the imposing presence of the Empire over the lives of its civilian residents. These works show us what it actually felt like to live under the reign of Palpatine. While The Last Jedi lets go of the past, these works give the past life. 

LucasFilm/Disney

The city of Jedha lives in the literal shadow of a Star Destroyer hanging over it. The citizens of Lothal are forced to work in the Empire’s labor facilities building TIE Fighters. The streets of Corellia are locked down, controlled by criminal organizations with only a privileged few being able to barter their way through the Empire’s checkpoints.

Each of these stories features characters for whom these worlds are home. From Ezra Bridger to Chirrut and Baze, and young Han Solo himself. We feel the presence of the Empire in a visceral way. And Solo takes us even further, following Han into an invasion of yet another world, the boots on the ground assault of Mimban. The combination of this, the “Zero Hour” arc of Rebels, and the epic Battle of Scariff in Rogue account for some of the finest examples of what a “star war” looks like in the entire Star Wars canon. 

The real throughline of these stories is their combined depiction of how a loose assortment of insurgents grew into an alliance of rebels that could legitimately challenge a galactic empire. Though told entirely out of sequence via their individual releases, the story is clear to follow. Solo shows us Enfys Nest and her Cloud-Riders. This swoop bike pirate crew and erstwhile rebels push back against Crimson Dawn and their ties to the Empire.

With Rebels, set about five years later, we see how the crew of the Ghost, a similar rebel cell. The Ghost slowly starts to link up with other cells. Covert operators like Ahsoka Tano’s Fulcrum network, connect them into a more organized Rebel Alliance. And with Rogue One, we finally see those disparate bands of rebels come together and declare open war on the Empire at the Battle of Scariff. Which, of course, ties directly into the beginning of the Saga as we know it.

LucasFilm/Disney

Solo’s novelization defines this throughline even more. It reveals that Enfys Nest delivers the Kessel Run coaxium to Saw Gerrera and young Jyn Erso. This ties not only Solo and Rogue One directly together but Rebels too. Saw, originally a Clone Wars character perfectly drops back into the Rebels series including an arc that ties directly into the plot of Rogue One. The film, in turn, features easter egg references to Rebels, including the Ghost itself being present at the Battle of Scariff. 

So while the legacy of the Story anthology films may not be one of showing us a whole new era of the Star Wars universe, it does something else equally impressive. It takes an era that utterly defines the world that the characters in the original trilogy are escaping. They expand it into something that feels incredibly real, and lived-in, complimenting those films and bridging the gap between Episodes III and IV. And with the upcoming pair of Cassian Andor and Obi-Wan Kenobi-based shows for Disney+, it’s an era we’re only going to get to explore further. 

Feature Image: LucasFilm/Disney

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