Everyday Heroes

First published by Stephens Life magazine. View here.

Everyday heroes believe in making the world a better place. They stand up for others and for their community, not only with words but with actions.

BOLD: Opportunities for young women of color

Walk into Ernie’s Cafe any given morning and you might see Chrystal Graves. She will be drinking Denver hot chocolate from a steaming mug. The server will confirm she is having the usual and will bring her breakfast over to the table. The hash browns will be blonde, just like she likes them. If you ask around, you will find that Graves runs her own business, Chrystal L. Hair & Makeup. Dig deeper and you will discover that she is the co-founder and vice president of a nonprofit organization, BOLD Academy. Get to know Chrystal a little bit more and you will realize — she is an everyday hero.

Legendary characters who save the day by using their extraordinary strength, enviable intelligence and high-tech gadgets, are the heroes that live in movies and comic books. Everyday heroes; however, live among us, and begin the day like you and me, with breakfast. But what happens once the fork is set down on the table and the last sip of chocolate is drunk? Everyday heroes wear no capes, no skin-tight costumes, no masks; they work, go to school, pay taxes, have a family and friends. They seem ordinary, but they are much more than that. Everyday heroes believe in making the world a better place. They stand up for others and for their community, not only with words but with actions.

Graves and Dr. Melita Walker co-founded BOLD Academy to fulfill the need for a central organization that encourages and supports leadership opportunities for Black and Brown girls in the Columbia community. Girls accepted into the program commit to a five to eight-day summer academy and a one-year program.

The summer academy is hosted by a college campus and covers a variety of subjects, including English, financial planning, art and dance. During the one-year program, girls develop leadership skills and engage in learning activities such as a field trip to medical school and a simulated city council to learn how city government works. BOLD provides school supplies at the beginning of the academic year and opens a 529 college fund, a tax-advantaged savings plan, for each BOLD participant. For every academy-related activity and monthly meeting that the girls attend, $7.85 (minimum wage) is deposited into their fund.

Meghan Foster raised her daughter, Diymon Gillespie, pretty much by herself, but the BOLD Academy team is now a source of support for both of them. Gillespie grew up being a happy and creative girl, but by the time she was 11, she was struggling with knowing her purpose in life. She often felt anxious and had trouble speaking to people in public.

This summer, Gillespie was accepted into BOLD Academy and within two days of the start of the program, she was doing ballet, learning about social injustice and reading books, which had been a struggle for her in the past.

“After one week, she blossomed. Her confidence went through the roof,” Foster says.

Being a sixth-grader is hard and Gillespie still has though days, but she feels uplifted by the BOLD team and is excited about her future: she aspires to write.

“The thought of not having The BOLD Academy at the time they came into our lives brings tears to my eyes. Where would my daughter be? Would she still not want to wake up in the morning? Would she still not think her hair is perfect? Or that she wasn’t good enough? Because of BOLD I never have to worry about my daughter feeling these things ever again,” Foster says.

Graves recognizes the importance of mentorship. When she was growing up in St. Louis, she did not have to fantasize about legendary heroes; she had real-life Dr. Judy Shaw to look up to.

Dr. Shaw kept her curly, natural hair short and always wore lipstick and beautiful earrings. She was a counselor at McCluer North High School, a neighbor who helped her community grow, and a wife and mother.

“Her ability to navigate all those different facets of life for her kids, but also for her community at large, is phenomenal — a magic trick in itself,” Graves says.

Dr. Shaw organized college preparation and Kwanzaa meetings at her home, which Graves and other children from the neighborhood attended. “She still, to this day, is providing access and opportunities for the children of the Ferguson-Florissant school district and community,” Graves says.

Having a supportive community and a role model who looked like her, led Graves to believe that if she worked hard and searched for opportunities, she could achieve anything. Graves hopes that all black and brown girls have the opportunity to see other women in their community who look like them and are doing phenomenal things.

Like her childhood hero, Graves does much more than the ordinary person. Beyond BOLD, she is also a mother of three and a business owner.

At her salon, Chrystal L. Hair & Makeup, Graves greets clients, provides services to an average of five to nine clients per day, responds to emails, and posts on social media.

“In my industry there is a misconception that you only do the hair of the people who look like you.” —Chrystal Graves

Graves emphasizes that her salon is diverse; she knows how to do hair, any kind of hair, “I think that in my industry there is a misconception that you only do the hair of the people who look like you. I don’t believe that. The beauty industry should look at what diversity really is. Are we creating and growing diverse stylists or are we creating people who only do the hair of the people that look like them?”

Chrystal focuses on healthy, growing hair and educates her clients so they know how to take care of their hair when they are not at the salon.

“The most rewarding aspect of my job is that I can change how someone is feeling. I often have people who sit on my chair and might not feel the greatest about themselves or are having a bad day. I have the ability to turn that around, to do their hair, talk to them and make them feel better,” Graves says.

She still remembers when her sign went up for the salon; it was the happiest day in her entrepreneurial life — a moment of awe and accomplishment.

As an everyday hero, Graves will likely not wake up one day and fly around Columbia, stopping crime and preventing car accidents from happening. She will, however, be part of a “goodness” cycle. Dr. Judy Shaw had a positive effect on her life. Now, she tries to positively impact the lives of girls like Diymon, who will likely do the same for another person.

While “fixing” everything that is wrong with the world seems daunting if not impossible, we can change the lives of those around us and hope that a ripple effect takes care of the rest.

Language in a new country

Imagine you have to start all over again. Your entire life is packed in a suitcase. Circumstances beyond your control have forced you to leave your country and with it, a part of you.

The people and places that influenced who you are will soon be far away.

You feel tired, anxious and already miss your loved ones. But deep down, you know your relocation is for the best. Your new home is the land of opportunity, your shot at a brighter future — a brand new world.

With a sliver of hope, you smile to the woman sitting next to you. She smiles back and starts a conversation.

Well, she tries to. You listen, but you don’t understand a single word that comes out of her mouth. It’s a shocking reminder; this new world is as foreign to you as you are to them.

Aware of this frightening experience, Audrey Hagan does everything she can to make the transition easier for non- English speakers that move to the U.S.

Hagan joined the Sacred Heart Language program in 2014 as a volunteer English tutor and is now the program coordinator. The language program is a free educational resource offered by the Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Columbia, Mo.

Through the program, immigrants and refugees acquire language and cultural awareness skills to better adapt to life in the U.S. Additionally, the program creates friendships and builds unity among the diverse population that attends the church. The first attendees were Sacred Heart parishioners: refugees from West-central Africa and Hispanic residents.

However, the program is open to anyone. Some students feel ashamed of their English level, but Hagan is supportive and tells them, “You speak one to five other languages. Just because you don’t know this one, don’t feel bad about it. Let me help you.”

“You make time for the things you want to do in life and this is one of the things that I want to do.” —Audrey Hagan

Although Hagan works full-time as a supervisor at Missouri Higher Education Loan Authority, she offers her time and positive attitude to the program’s students every week.

“Audrey tutors, she gives rides to students, she does anything. Sometimes she goes without dinner. She will be there happily smiling and giving her time, even after hours. To me that is great dedication,” says Martha Lawrence, an experienced tutor who recently began offering Swahili classes.

Hagan does not see her contributions to the program and students as a sacrifice. She talks about tutoring as something that she enjoys. “You make time for the things you want to do in life and this is one of the things that I want to do,” she says.

In the large community room next to the church, classes begin. Tutors and students are paired up. A young tutor and an older gentleman seem to be playing charades. The tutor stands up and pretends to run. Later, he sits down and points towards his neck. He is “acting out” words to explain the meaning to his student.

A school-aged child writes numbers on a green chalkboard as his tutor sits next to him speaking English; they are doing math homework. On the other side of the room, Daphrose is practicing her address.

Daphrose, a Congolese woman who spent more than 20 years in a refugee camp, is one of the students that Audrey works with. Daphrose arrived to the U.S. in March 2018 without any English knowledge.

“I am from Congo,” Daphrose says, as she practices. She smiles as she recites her address in English and asks “What is your name?”

Audrey cheers, “She is doing so good!” For the rest of the conversation, Lawrence serves as an interpreter and relays Daphrose’s message:

“When she first arrived and she heard people talking to her in English she thought, ‘I will never learn this language.’ She just heard a flow of words; she could not tell the beginning or the end. After a few weeks in this class, she built up her confidence and now she feels happy. She feels like she can start life again, like when she lived in Africa.”

Puerto Rico After María

Adam Huckfeldt glanced out the window of the descending plane. Houses without a roof, trees knocked over, billboards on top of houses, buildings with beams sticking out. Destruction everywhere.

Huckfeldt had a mission: to aid people in need, many of whom had lost their belongings to Hurricane Maria.

He disembarked the plane and walked into the terminal, where he was hit by a wave of hot, humid air. There was no power or AC; the emergency lights illuminated the steamy floor. The lower level was like a scene from an apocalyptic movie — dark, silent. Garbage cans were overflowing with trash and random items were scattered on the floor. The terminal had been flooded and a thick scent of decay filled the air.

The upper level was packed; hundreds of people were waiting, hoping to get a seat on a plane — a ticket out of a devastated Puerto Rico. Some drove to the airport and left the keys inside their car; they were not planning to come back. There was nothing left for them. Everyone wanted off the island, while Huckfeldt, he was just arriving.

Just 24 hours earlier, Huckfeldt was having a normal morning at work when he received a particular email. He was given deployment orders to travel to Puerto Rico and provide aid to the victims of Hurricane Maria. As a member of DEMPS, the Veterans Health Administration’s Disaster Emergency Medical Personnel System, he knew this was a possibility.

After Hurricane Harvey hit Texas, Huckfeldt was on standby to be sent to Houston, but that never happened. So the morning he got the email about Puerto Rico, a turmoil of emotions arose.

This was his first DEMPS assignment, and he was eager to help.

“My father was a trauma surgeon, and being like him, we don’t want anyone to get hurt, but if they are going to be hurt, we want to be the ones that are sent out to help,” Huckfeldt says.

At the same time, the apprehension of the unknown and the decision to be away from his wife who he had just married four months ago, weighed heavily on his mind. Nevertheless, his bravery and compassion won and Huckfeldt accepted the deployment.

For two weeks, Huckfeldt worked the night shift at a field medical station in Manatí, located on the Northside of Puerto Rico.

The Juan Aubín Cruz Abreu “Bincito” coliseum, a sports venue, was transformed into a temporary medical center where patients received care for anything from minor wounds to mental health and terminal illness. El Vocero, a Puerto Rican newspaper, reports that 10,000 patients were treated at this field medical station.

As Huckfeldt walked in, he saw black cots lined up on the basketball court. Patients were lying next to each other; their family members sitting on metallic folding chairs, next to the cots.

The two rooms for staff to sleep in were packed, so Huckfeldt slept on a cot in the stadium’s seating area, in between the rows of vibrant blue and yellow seats.

“At first there was no food. What little food we had, we gave to the patients. We had spotty power running off the generators and no running water,” Huckfeldt recalls.

“You would stand there and ventilate them with a bag in pitch darkness until somebody could get the power back on.” —Adam Huckfeldt

“We had patients on ventilators. A power supply is necessary to keep them alive. You got conditioned that during power outages you would run and turn on the emergency supply of oxygen to the ventilators. And if necessary, you would stand there and ventilate them with a bag in pitch darkness until somebody could get the power back on,” Huckfeldt says.

Beyond the abysmal living conditions, communication was also difficult. Some patients spoke English, but with others, Huckfeldt’s broken Spanish, the patient’s broken English, and hand gestures made due.

“English is not my strength, so we communicated as best as we could,” says Lourdes Vázquez in Spanish, during a phone call conversation from Puerto Rico. Lourdes’ father, Pedro Vázquez was one of Huckfeldt’s patients.

Lourdes lives 30 minutes away from the field hospital and had to travel back and forth to see her father. She would frequently let Huckfeldt know when she was leaving and asked him to keep an eye on her father.

“He never gave me a no for an answer,” she says, “My father could not speak, but he said it all with his eyes. Adam talked to him as he took care of him; he was always so gentle and respectful.”

Huckfeldt considers his experience in Puerto Rico to be the most challenging and rewarding time of his life, “During the entire first two weeks there was hardly a day when I would end my shift without tears in my eyes or concern for a patient because of what was going on,” he says.

Huckfeldt had no days off. He worked 12 to 16-hour-shifts and tried to do the best with the available supplies.

“At one point when I was there, I had around 40 patients to myself,” he says.

After two weeks, Huckfeldt returned home, back to his wife and his job. Back to the comforts of taking a bath and eating something more than a ‘bread sandwich’.

But Huckfeldt was not ready to return to his normal life, “It just didn’t feel right. I felt a sense of abandonment, like I had left my patients. So, I asked to go back,” he says.

He returned to Puerto Rico with a bag full of candy and a heart eager to help. As he walked into the arena, he was greeted with tears of joy by one of his patients, “I thought I would never see you again”.

Almost a year after his two trips to Puerto Rico, Huckfeldt treasures the photo of a thank you note from a patient and a video of Santos Candelaria, a retired musician who is singing and playing the guitar. His wife was sick and was dependent on care. She could not hear him, but he still played the guitar for her and for the medical staff.

“This is a good night song for his wife”, Huckfeldt says. As the video starts to play, a strong voice singing in Spanish and the melody of acoustic guitar strings fill the air:

“Tomorrow I will leave my love. I will be so sad. Tomorrow I will leave my love. But tonight, tonight, I will spend it with you.”