Tag: human rights

Bo-Kaap, a History of Resistance and Identity

Sitting at Aisha’s Kitchen on a Friday afternoon in Bo-Kaap, Cape Town, South Africa, I had the pleasure to talk to a local community organizer. Being Cape Malay himself, he shared his experiences growing in the community and the challenges they had faced. With the call to prayer in the background, he shared about the lack of engagement from the community and personal struggles people were going through. However, he was cut short by a handful of young girls from the community joining us. They asked him how he was and he asked about their families while introducing me – “Say Salaam to your aunty.” With a short introduction, we chatted with the girls, no older than 11, about their days, favorite chocolates, and their love for Bo-Kaap.

While staying in Bantry Bay, it was a journey to get all the way to Bo-Kaap. Though they are both within the same city radius of Cape Town, Bo-Kaap represents a small neighborhood. My initial understanding was that it was a simple tourist destination, but through each mural, each step, and each conversation, I recognized that the community is a living archive of struggle and resilience. The vibrancy of Bo-Kaap today represents the lengthy history of marginalized communities fighting for rights and dignity, especially in the face of colonialism, slavery, apartheid, and gentrification.

Photo 1: Inside a local mosque in Bo-Kaap.Credit: Wajiha Mekki
Photo 1: Inside a local mosque in Bo-Kaap.
Credit: Wajiha Mekki

Origins of Bo-Kaap

Bo-Kaap was founded in the 1760s, when Jan de Waal bought a set of land to be leased out to his slaves. These individuals were from a variety of locations: Malaysia, Indonesia, India, and elsewhere. Enslaved individuals slowly populated the area. This was brought to fruition by the Dutch’s involvement in the Atlantic slave trade. Originally, Bo-Kaap was divided into four areas: the Malay Quarter, Stadzicht, Schotsche Kloof and Schoone Kloof. During this time, residential development was limited. However, once Cape Town came under the occupation of the British in 1795, the residential development accelerated, creating modest housing. This growth corresponded with the desires of the British, who wanted to develop Cape Town to increase their profit margins.

Over time, Bo-Kaap became a place of refuge for others beyond Cape Malay individuals; Filipinos, Africans, Italians, and others moved to Bo-Kaap voluntarily and found a home there due to proximity to their work spaces. 

Understanding Bo-Kaap means understanding Cape Town and its history. Cape Town under Apartheid was met with many challenges. In 1948, South Africa divided the city into ethnically separate areas; the dynamic nature of Cape Town was quickly disrupted. Banishing communities from the coastline to new settlements was just one of the steps taken to enforce such policies. Another step was the Group Areas Act of 1950, which officially banned neighborhoods from being multiracial and segregated races from each other. This Act categorized Cape Town as a “whites-only” area of the country, which impacted diverse neighborhoods in the city, but the attempt to truly claim the city for whites alone was quickly fought off by the Bo-Kaap community, a small but mighty neighborhood. These anti-segregation efforts included local mosques, who protected the right of Malay South Africans to live in Bo-Kaap. As a result of this fight, the area was then declared as Cape Malay only, allowing hundreds of families to continue living in Bo-Kaap. Many people who were living in adjacent neighborhoods that were stripped of their multiracial character, such as District Six, were also moved to Bo-Kaap.

With the tragic history of Apartheid, it is critical to note its infringement of fundamental rights to movement, housing, family integrity, and equality. The history of Bo-Kaap and its survival demonstrates the role of collective action in protecting communities and their rights.

Bo-Kaap as a Center of Cultural and Religious Freedom 

In addition to the political history of Bo-Kaap, there is a rich cultural one, too. The beauty of Bo-Kaap is that it provided many Cape Malays the security to practice their religion because of the area’s unique location being far enough from Dutch settlements whilst still being close to the city center. Despite trials and tribulations, enslaved individuals maintained their faith and a sense of community.

One way that individuals in Bo-Kaap developed an opportunity to continue their community is through Afrikaans. This language, which is a mix of Portuguese, Malay, and Dutch that started in the general Cape Colony, was born of necessity. Especially considering that many enslaved individuals were from a variety of locations, it was critical for them to be able to communicate with one another, and Afrikaans gave them an opportunity to do so. The creolization of Dutch evolved as a hybrid language that allowed all groups of the Dutch colony to connect with one another. While religion played a large role in the early written text of Afrikaans being written in Arabic, the spoken language became a lingua franca for the multi-ethnic community of Bo-Kaap and South Africa more generally.

The integration of Islam as the backbone of the Bo-Kaap community was seen through Auwal Mosque, which was created in 1794. Slowly, more Muslims moved into Bo-Kaap, and this movement was accelerated with emancipation of all slaves in 1834. With the abolition of slavery, a new chapter was bright for the community. Auwal Mosque was not the only mosque anymore, as there was now more than one mosque on every street, and madrassas were developed to better teach Islam and integrate the philosophies of the religion in the community. 

Photo 2: A corner market named Tawakal which translates to trust in Arabic.Credit: Wajiha Mekki
Photo 2: A corner market named Tawakal which translates to trust in Arabic.
Credit: Wajiha Mekki

Current Challenges

The bright colors of Bo-Kaap represent hope, but that hope is being dimmed by current challenges. As a result of Cape Town’s economic development and expansion, property in Bo-Kaap is sought after. Businesses, AirBnBs, and other businesses are popping up. But this growth has been at the expense of the community, which is facing a dissolution of its character and unity. It has also negatively impacted community members by resulting in the eviction of long-term tenants due to landlords raising the rents and changing ownership to pursue commercial properties over residential ones, effectively leaving communities to have lived there for years without stability.

In the face of these difficulties, there have been many efforts to preserve the community and heritage of Bo-Kaap. One way has been the establishment of Bo-Kaap as a Heritage Protection Overlay Zone, which is a special planning layer for Bo-Kaap to protect its historic nature. This is effective on paper, but residents have mentioned the presence of loopholes that make it difficult for this measure alone to truly protect the community in Bo-Kaap. Protests are also critical in how the community expresses its concern, as protests allow residents to share their sentiments about how they are overwhelmed by extreme tourism.

The situation described here depicts the tension between development and cultural rights, especially as the right to housing security and the right to cultural heritage are emerging as dimensions of human rights. 

Photo 3: Photo of lined houses on Dorp street in Bo-Kaap.Credit: Wajiha Mekki
Photo 3: Photo of lined houses on Dorp street in Bo-Kaap.
Credit: Wajiha Mekki

Why Bo-Kaap Matters Today

From slavery to Apartheid to gentrification, Bo-Kaap represents a community that safeguards human rights. The idea of identity and heritage being at the core of human rights in Bo-Kaap represents the global struggle of equity, equality, and inclusion. In the modern context of communities striving for space, history, and belonging, it is critical to understand marginalized communities and understand their contributions to society. In addition, protecting these places strengthens human rights and democratic values across the nation.

As I reflect on my time in Bo-Kaap and on being in the community to learn, I am grateful to have observed a sliver of the beauty of the community and am confident that intentional engagement with communities, where visitors seek to learn rather than consume, will support the long term development of communities across the world. Bo-Kaap and its resilience through Apartheid and gentrification demonstrate the value of community when approaching challenges. The Bo-Kaap community has suffered many violations of the right to housing, expression, and more; as we work to support communities, it is critical to listen to their stories and approach solutions holistically.

 

When Children Are Treated as Adults: How One Alabama Teen Inspired My Fight for Justice

Girl behind bars.
Girl behind bars. By Nejron Photo; Adobe Stock. File #: 32689299

I did not enter the world of juvenile justice reform through textbooks, research questions, or curiosity about public policy. I entered it through a child. A girl I first met when she was just fourteen years old, wide-eyed, quiet, and already carrying a lifetime of burdens on her small frame. I was assigned as her CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) at a time when her life was marked by instability, poverty, and trauma. She was living in conditions most adults would find impossible, yet she still greeted me each week with a hesitant smile, a mix of hope and uncertainty in her eyes. Her resilience was unmistakable, even if she didn’t yet recognize it in herself.

Over the years, I watched her survive circumstances that would flatten most adults. She moved between unsafe living situations, often unsure where she would sleep or whether she would eat. She navigated school while juggling the chaos around her. She experienced loss, betrayal, and instability. And yet she showed up. She tried. She hoped. She fought to stay afloat.

Nothing in those early years prepared me for what would come next.

At sixteen, through a series of events, she was just present when a crime occurred. One she did not commit, did not plan, and did not anticipate. But in Alabama, presence is enough to catapult a child into the adult criminal system. Under Alabama’s automatic transfer statute, Ala. Code § 12-15-203, youth charged with certain offenses are moved to adult court entirely by default, without judicial evaluation and without any meaningful consideration of developmental maturity, trauma history, or the child’s actual involvement.

The law did not acknowledge her age, her vulnerability, her role in the event, or her long history of surviving poverty, abuse, and instability. It simply swept her into the adult system as if she were fully responsible for the incident and for her own survival. Overnight, she went from being a child in need of care to being treated as an adult offender. She was taken to an adult county jail, where her new reality consisted of four concrete walls, metal doors, and the unrelenting loneliness that comes from being a minor in a facility designed for grown men.

 

Child behind bars.
Child behind bars. By Tinnakorn; Adobe Stock. File #: 691836996

Because the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) requires strict “sight and sound separation” between minors and adults, and because most Alabama jails have no youth-specific housing units, she was placed into what the facility calls “protective custody.” In reality, this translated into solitary confinement. She spends nearly every hour of every day alone. No peers. No programming. No classroom. No sunlight. No meaningful human contact.

Not for days. Not for weeks. But for over an entire year.

Even now, writing those words feels unreal. A child, my former CASA child, has spent more than a year in near total isolation because Alabama does not have the infrastructure to house minors safely in adult jails. And it was this experience – witnessing her slow unraveling under the weight of isolation – that pushed me into research and now advocacy.

But the research came after the heartbreak.
She was the beginning, and she remains the reason.

Understanding the System That Failed Her

When I began researching how a child like her could be locked in an adult jail for over a year, the data was overwhelming. In 2023 alone, an estimated 2,513 youth under age eighteen were held in adult jails and prisons in the United States, according to The Sentencing Project. Alabama is not an outlier — it is fully participating in this national trend of treating children as adults based on the offense they are charged with, rather than who they are developmentally.

The more I learned about solitary confinement, the more horrified I became.
And yet none of it surprised me, not after watching what it is doing to her.

A young woman in handcuffs.
A young woman in handcuffs. By Nutlegal; Adobe Stock. File #: 259270712

Human Rights Watch reports that youth held in solitary confinement are 19 times more likely to attempt suicide than their peers in general populations. The United Nations Mandela Rules explicitly prohibit solitary confinement for anyone under eighteen, identifying it as a form of torture. The ACLU has documented the widespread use of isolation for youth in jails due to Prison Rape Elimination Act compliance limitations. And reports from the Prison Policy Initiative and the Equal Justice Initiative show that children in adult facilities face elevated risks of physical assault, sexual violence, psychological decline, and self-harm.

Developmental science aligns with these findings. Decades of work by scholars such as Laurence Steinberg show that adolescent brains are not fully developed — especially the regions governing impulse control, long-term planning, and risk assessment — but are exceptionally responsive to rehabilitation and growth.

Yet Alabama’s transfer laws ignore this entire body of scientific knowledge.

Even more troubling, youth transferred to adult court are 34% more likely to reoffend than youth who remain in the juvenile system. Adult criminal processing actively harms public safety.

Meanwhile, evidence-based juvenile programs, such as family therapy, restorative justice practices, and community-centered interventions, can reduce recidivism by up to 40%.

Everything we know about youth development suggests that rehabilitation, not punishment, protects communities.

Everything we know about juvenile justice suggests that children should never be housed in adult jails.

Everything we know about solitary confinement suggests that no human, let alone a child, should endure it.

And yet here she was, enduring it.

What Isolation Does to a Child

It is one thing to read the research. It is another to watch a child absorb its consequences.

When I visit her, she tries to be brave. She sees me on the video monitor and forces herself to smile, though the strain shows in her eyes. She tells me about the silence in the jail at night, the way it wraps around her like a heavy blanket. She talks about missing school — math class, of all things — and how she used to dream about graduating. She describes the fear, the uncertainty, the way days blend into each other until she loses track of time entirely.

She has asked me more than once if anyone remembers she is only seventeen.
She wonders whether her life outside those walls still exists.
She apologizes for crying — apologizes for being scared, as if fear is a defect rather than a reasonable response to months of isolation.

Watching her navigate the psychological toll of solitary confinement is one of the most difficult experiences I have had as an advocate. The changes have been slow, subtle, and painful: her posture tenser, her voice quieter, her expressions more guarded, her hope more fragile.

Children are resilient, but resilience has limits.
Solitary confinement breaks adults.
What it does to children is indescribable.

A woman in despair.
A woman in despair. By yupachingping; Adobe Stock. File #: 246747604

Why Alabama Must Reform Its Juvenile Transfer Laws

The more I researched, the more I understood that her story is not an exception; it is a predictable outcome of Alabama’s laws.

Ending this harm requires several critical reforms:

  1. Eliminate automatic transfer.

A child’s fate should not be decided by statute alone. Judges must be empowered to consider the full context — trauma history, level of involvement, mental health, maturity, and the circumstances of the offense.

  1. Ban housing minors in adult jails.

Other states have already taken this step. Alabama must follow.

  1. End juvenile solitary confinement.

Solitary confinement is not a protective measure; it is a human rights violation.

  1. Expand access to juvenile rehabilitation programs.

The science is clear: youth rehabilitation supports public safety far more effectively than punishment.

  1. Increase statewide transparency.

Alabama must track how many minors are transferred, how they are housed, and how long they remain in adult facilities. Without data, there can be no accountability.

She Deserves Justice

I am writing a policy brief because of her.
I studied this policy landscape because of her.
I advocate for systemic change because of her.

Her story is woven into every sentence of my research, every recommendation I’ve made, every argument I’ve formed. She is the reason I cannot walk away from this fight, not when I’ve witnessed what the system does to the children most in need of protection.

She deserves safety.
She deserves support.
She deserves a justice system that recognizes her humanity.

And she is not alone. There are countless children in Alabama — many living in poverty, many from marginalized communities, many without stable adult support — who are forced into adult systems that were never designed for them.

Their stories matter.
Their lives matter.
And the system must change.

Light falling over a girl's eyes.
Light falling over a girl’s eyes. By stivog; Adobe Stock. File #: 422569932

What You Can Do

If you believe that children deserve dignity, fairness, and protection, here are ways to support change:

  • Support organizations working to reform youth justice in Alabama:
    Equal Justice Initiative, Alabama Appleseed, ACLU of Alabama, or me — I can use all the help I can get.
  • Share this story to help build awareness.
  • Contact state legislators and demand an end to automatic transfer and juvenile solitary confinement.
  • Become a CASA and advocate for children whose voices are often ignored.
  • Vote in local elections, especially for district attorneys, sheriffs, and judges — leaders whose decisions directly impact youth.

Conclusion: Children Are Not Adults—Alabama’s Laws Must Reflect This Truth

The science is clear, the research is clear, and the human impact is undeniable.
Children are developmentally different. Children are vulnerable. And, in my opinion, children deserve grace, understanding, and second chances.

When we place children in adult jails, when we isolate them for months, when we treat them as if they are beyond repair, we do more than violate their rights—we violate our own values as a society.

The 17-year-old girl I have advocated for over the past three years is a reminder of what is at stake. She is not a statistic. She is not a file number. She is a child — a child whose life, dignity, and future must matter as much as any adult’s.

She is the beginning of my story in this work, and she remains at its heart.
Her experience makes it impossible to ignore the urgency of reform.
And her resilience makes it impossible to lose hope.

Alabama can do better.
Alabama must do better.
And children like her are counting on us to make sure it happens.

Woman behind bars
Woman behind bars; By primipil; Adobe Stock. File #: 524235023

The Toll of Iran’s Women‑Led Rights Movement: A Psychological Standpoint

Woman Life Freedom
Image 1: “Woman Life Freedom” The slogan highlights courage and persistence in the global struggle for equality and justice. Source: Adobe Stock #1657149359

On September 16, 2022, the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Jina Amini while in the custody of Iran’s morality police ignited a nationwide uprising. What began as protests over hijab enforcement evolved into a broader demand for freedom and justice under the slogan “Woman, Life, Freedom.” But beyond the political stakes, this movement has unleashed profound psychological consequences for individuals and society; it is a crisis at the intersection of human rights and mental health.

An Overview of the Crisis

Women in Iran began revolting after the death of 22-year-old Mahsa (Jina) Amini, who was arrested by the country’s “morality police” in September 2022 for allegedly wearing her hijab too loosely. Witnesses reported that she was beaten in custody, and she died shortly afterward, becoming a symbol of the everyday oppression that Iranian women face under strict mandatory hijab laws and decades of state surveillance, harassment, and punishment. Her death ignited widespread anger, leading women and girls to remove their hijabs, cut their hair, and protest the broader system of gender-based control. This outrage quickly expanded beyond Amini herself, sparking one of the largest protest movements in Iran’s recent history and drawing nationwide support.

The protests triggered by Amini’s death were among the largest Iran had seen in decades, spreading to more than 150 cities. State repression followed swiftly: reports indicate that security forces used lethal force, detained thousands, and committed acts of torture and sexual violence against protesters. A UN fact-finding mission later concluded that many of these violations may amount to crimes against humanity, including murder, imprisonment, torture, and persecution, particularly targeting women. Despite international outcry, accountability has been limited, and the psychological wounds continue to deepen.

The Weaponization of Psychiatry

One of the most chilling psychological tactics used by the Iranian regime against participants in the recent protests is the involuntary psychiatric hospitalization of dissenters. Authorities have publicly admitted that some student protesters were sent to “psychological institutes” during and after the protests, not for genuine mental illness, but as a tool to “re-educate” them.

In one particularly disturbing case, Ahoo Daryaei, a doctoral student who protested by partially removing her hijab in public, was reportedly forcefully disappeared and likely sent to a psychiatric hospital. Labeling protest behavior as “madness” isn’t just stigmatizing; it’s a deliberate form of repression rooted in misusing mental health institutions. Psychiatrists inside and outside Iran have condemned this practice as a gross violation of human rights.

Trauma, Anxiety, and Depression

The violence of the crackdown and the constant threat to safety have caused widespread psychological trauma. But even those not visibly injured describe deep emotional scars.

In interviews and counseling settings, psychologists report a surge in anxiety and depression among young women across Iran. A female psychotherapist described how girls in small towns, once relatively isolated, entered into a state of “heightened awareness” after Amini’s death, but also into frustration and internal conflict:

“This newfound awareness has disrupted their previous state of relative comfort … tension and conflict within their families have become an added burden …”

These emotional struggles are compounded by the fact that some girls feel guilty or disloyal to their families when they defy expectations, which is a significant psychological burden. On a broader level, the constant surveillance, repression, and societal division fuels pervasive fear. A published analysis of Iran’s protests noted that protest-related trauma is not just physical but deeply psychological, affecting individuals’ ability to trust, belong, and imagine a safer future.

Collective Psychology: Identity, Resilience & Social Change

Despite the repression, the movement has fostered powerful collective resilience and identity. Psychologically, protests like these are often rooted in social identity theory: people come together around a shared sense of injustice (in this case, gender-based oppression and state violence) and develop strong bonds that motivate collective action.

One manifestation of this is the growing refusal of women to wear the hijab, which is becoming seen as a normalized act of civil disobedience. This symbolic rejection has become a form of psychological resistance. Rather than waiting for external change, many Iranians are asserting internal agency and self-determination.

This quiet revolution isn’t risk-free. Protesters face brutality, arrest, and psychological harm. But for many, the act of defiance itself is a source of empowerment and a way to reshape their own sense of identity, purpose, and belonging in a context that so blatantly denies them autonomy.

Iranian woman protesting
Image 2: Iranian woman protesting. Source: Adobe Stock, Mumpitz, #543171718

Intergenerational Effects & the Future

The mental health impacts of the crackdown are likely to have long-term, intergenerational consequences. Children and teenagers exposed to violence, either directly or via their families, may carry trauma that affects their development, academic performance, and relationships. For some, the protests represent a break from generational patterns of silence or submission, but that break comes with a cost.

Moreover, the lack of institutional accountability, as documented by Human Rights Watch and the UN, compounds the trauma. Without justice or recognition, survivors may struggle to process their experiences, leading to lasting emotional scars. Yet, there is hope: the persistence of the movement, even in the face of brutal repression, suggests that for many Iranians, psychological healing and human-rights change are intertwined. The continued refusal to comply, the daily acts of resistance, and the communal memory of trauma may all serve as foundations for a future built on dignity and freedom.

Why This Is a Human Rights and Mental Health Crisis

From a human-rights perspective, what’s happening in Iran is not just political suppression, but also a systematic campaign of gendered persecution, psychological control, and enforced conformity. The UN mission concluded that many of the regime’s actions amounted to crimes against humanity, including persecution, torture, and sexual violence.

Psychologically, the use of psychiatric institutions to silence dissenters violates fundamental principles of autonomy and mental integrity. Even more, the widespread trauma threatens social cohesion, sense of identity, and collective well-being. The mental health crisis is not a side effect, it’s central to the human rights violations. Without addressing both the physical and psychological consequences, the wounds of this movement will remain unhealed, and the foundation for meaningful justice and reform will be unstable.

What Needs to Happen

Addressing this crisis requires coordinated action on multiple fronts. International accountability and support are essential, with bodies like the UN and international courts pressing for justice, accountability, and reparations for victims of repression, while countries with universal jurisdiction consider investigating human rights abuses, including psychological repression. Mental health infrastructure and aid must also be expanded, with support from international organizations to provide trauma counseling and remote psychosocial assistance to Iranians both inside and outside the country who lack safe access to care. Protecting dissenters from psychiatric abuse is critical; international psychiatry associations should condemn involuntary hospitalizations of protesters and provide clear guidelines for safeguarding patients’ rights, while diplomatic or economic pressure could be directed at institutions complicit in these abuses. Finally, empowering local and global solidarity is vital: amplifying the voices of Iranian activists, particularly women, and supporting cultural forms of resistance such as music, art, and storytelling can promote healing, identity formation, and collective resilience.

Conclusion

The “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement in Iran is more than a political uprising; it’s a psychological battleground. The regime’s brutal crackdown is not only a violation of bodily rights but of mental integrity. People are being traumatized, surveilled, pathologized, and denied justice. Yet in the face of repression, they are also cultivating a new collective identity, resilience, and purpose. Understanding this crisis through a psychological lens is essential. It reminds us that human rights are not abstract ideals; they are woven into our mental well-being, our capacity to heal, to resist, and to imagine a freer future.

More than a Cookout: Black Family Reunions as Acts of Resilience

A joyful group of six people gathers around a dinner table outside, sharing laughter. The table is set with colorful dishes, under warm string lights.
Happy Black family dining together on house patio, By Alessandro Biascioli https://stock.adobe.com/images/happy-african-family-dining-together-on-house-patio/577447909?prev_url=detail

The sun is beyond blazing. It’s the middle of July somewhere deep in the South. Out in a grassy field, vibrant R&B and soul floats across the air. Barbecue smoke curls upward, mixing with bursts of laughter. Children are running around playing a game of kickball. Aunties and uncles sit at folding tables slapping down cards in a game of spades. The food is plentiful, as are the memories. Everyone around is wearing the same matching shirt, stamped with the words “Family Reunion.”

While it may look like a simple summertime gathering, the Black family reunion is more than a cookout. This cultural tradition for the Black American family has served as a living act of community and resilience. Despite being in a society that, across centuries, has fragmented Black families through enslavement, displacement, incarceration, and economic inequality, reunions reclaim that assailed unity by asserting the Black family’s right to exist, to connect, and to remember. In this way, Black family reunions stand as living demonstrations of strength, cultural preservation and human rights in action.

After the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, newly freed Black Americans began searching desperately for lost relatives. Newspaper ads, church bulletins, and Freedmen’s Bureau records overflowed with pleas for information and became one of the largest mass searches for family members in U.S. history. Some traveled hundreds of miles by foot or wagon, following rumors of where a mother had been sold or a sibling last seen. Piecing back together the fragments of kinship was one of the first exercises of freedom. Many freedpeople legalized marriages that slave codes had prohibited and that forced separations had fractured. Reunification efforts continued well beyond the Civil War. As the 20th century approached, Jim Crow policies restricted movement and opportunity, pushing Black families to develop intentional spaces of gathering. When the Great Migration (1910–1970) relocated millions of Black Americans from the rural South to industrial cities, family reunions transformed into anchors. Relatives from all over would return home to a place where members of different generations would rejoice communally. These reunions were a constant, something that served as a reminder of where home really was. This was not just an emotional gathering, but a political act as well.

Sunset over a serene marshland with reflective water channels and lush green reeds. The dramatic sky is filled with vibrant orange and purple clouds.
Sunset with low country marsh, By Nate.Rosso https://stock.adobe.com/images/sunset-with-low-country-marsh/518862457?prev_url=detail

At a time when so much of the Black identity has been commodified and misrepresented, family gatherings serve as spaces of self-definition. Elders share stories that are intricately woven together like a quilt, tying together generations. These are stories you don’t read in history books. Tales of migration, of how a family land plot was held after Reconstruction, of the relatives who raised children not their own, or of how names were passed down to honor those who came before. Many Black Americans lack physical documents of our ancestors, so relying on these stories is important. The family trees and cultural roots live in people. Recipes passed down from grandma, learning hand games from your older cousin, being taught how to braid– all are acts of remembrance. They are living archives where history, memory, and joy coexist, especially when you think about how much love went into the plate you eat from, or what lengths each member went to to get here. Psychologists have spoken about intergenerational resilience, the passing down of coping strategies, identity, and heritage through shared rituals and traditions. For Black families, reunions are a major mechanism of psychological and cultural healing. Despite slavery, despite Jim Crow, despite mass incarceration, despite poverty, the kinship ties hold strong.

A joyful scene of a young girl with a red bow in her hair, surrounded by three women helping her adjust it. A warm, family atmosphere is evident.
Three generations of women on a sofa, Photo by RDNE Stock project from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/three-generation-on-sofa-7951664/

Serving as living testaments of endurance, the Black family reunion embodies what the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) Article 16 identifies the family as the “natural and fundamental group unit of society.” The UDHR affirms that this unit is entitled to protection. For centuries Black Americans have had to build that unit from the ground up. In a society that has conjured every act imaginable to fracture kinship, the act of reuniting has become a radical reclamation of humanity. It protects the right to family, the right to culture, and the right to dignity. Beyond the UDHR, The UNESCO Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity (2001) emphasizes communities’ rights to preserve and transmit cultural practices. Reunions do this naturally, serving as places where Black cultural heritage is passed not only through words but through food, music, tradition, and presence. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) Article 23, which the United States has ratified, states: “The family is the natural and fundamental group unit of society and is entitled to protection by society and the State.” Black family reunions exemplify this right, even when institutions have failed to protect Black families throughout history. From a human rights lens, it’s not simply a tradition. It is a site of cultural and familial rights being lived out, preserved, and protected.

Like all long-held traditions, family reunions now face modern challenges. Gentrification has reshaped many historically Black neighborhoods, erasing the physical landmarks that once grounded families. This leaves some families’ home anchor that held their ancestors together financially inaccessible or gone entirely. Younger generations are feeling more disconnected from their family’s roots or are unaware of their heritage. Rising travel costs, inflexible work schedules, and economic pressures make it harder for families to gather in person. Yet, Black families continue to adapt. Technology has helped foster new methods of connection. Photo albums shared through online drives, online fundraisers to help cover costs, family group-chats, Zoom calls, and much more all work to bring families together across distance. These digital tools have helped make it possible for families to reunite, no matter the circumstance. Whether under a tent in someone’s backyard or through the screen of a laptop, the message remains the same: we are still here.

A joyful family of four walks hand in hand through a grassy field. The girl holds a colorful kite, expressing happiness and togetherness in a natural setting.
Black family laughing and flying a kite while running together outdoors. By Drobot Dean https://stock.adobe.com/images/black-family-laughing-and-flying-kite-while-running-together/474942304?prev_url=detail

Protecting the right to family is not just a matter of law, but legacy. Reunions show that when institutions fail to preserve connection, communities find their own way. The family reunion reminds us that human rights are not abstract ideals; they are lived through various experiences. As long as the smoke of the grill rises and laughter fills the air, the legacy of resilience lives on. Because even in the face of adversity, Black joy endures.

Alabama’s “Invisible Disabilities” ID Proposal

Human Rights Perspective on the Proposal to Put “Invisible Disabilities” on Alabama IDs 

Box for ballot papers on desk and young African American man with disability sitting in wheelchair and making his choice.
Box for ballot papers on desk and young African American man with disability sitting in wheelchair and making his choice. By: pressmaster. Source: Adobe Stock. Asset ID#: 580784797

There is buzz around Alabama’s proposal to designate “invisible disabilities” on state ID cards by the end of this fiscal year. This legislative initiative has sparked significant debate and attention. In November 2025, a bill was introduced in Alabama that would allow individuals to add an “invisible disability” designation to their driver’s licenses or state ID cards. Ontario Tillman, the state representative who is introducing this measure, argues that this “protective” measure could help law enforcement and first responders understand and quickly identify persons who may have non-apparent disabilities such as autism, PTSD, or traumatic brain injury. Tillman argues that this would be helpful for law enforcement and other officials to know because people with these and other invisible disabilities may respond to officers in unexpected ways that could cause situations to spiral dangerously. By equipping law enforcement and first responders with the information that the person they are engaging with has an invisible disability, Tillman hopes that there would be more patience and understanding built between responders and the person with the disability.

Invisible Disability ID Markers Elsewhere

States like Alaska, Maryland, and Colorado have started adding invisible disability indicators to driver’s licenses and ID cards, but they are taking different routes and raising similar debates. Alaska lets residents voluntarily add an invisible disability designation to licenses or IDs through its DMV, framing it as a tool to signal needs in situations like traffic stops or emergencies without revealing a specific diagnosis. Colorado offers a small icon on state IDs for people with invisible disabilities and, in the first year and a half of its implementation, 1,096 people signed up for the marker. In Maryland, “Eric’s Law” created an optional invisible disability notation after disability activist Eric Blessed Carpenter Grantham pushed for the state to offer this accommodation; the Maryland Department of Transportation now treats the marker as one more tool for safety and understanding. Across these states, the basic idea is similar: make it easier for disabled people to get accommodations or de-escalation in high-stress situations by building a quiet signal into ID systems.​

People’s reactions, though, show how complicated it feels to put disability information on something as central as an ID. Supporters, including some disability advocates and families, say these markers can reduce misunderstandings with law enforcement, explain why someone might not respond typically in a crisis, and help folks access assistance in travel, medical, or security settings. Critics worry about privacy, data misuse, and the risk that a symbol meant to protect could expose disabled people to profiling or discrimination, especially if officers or agencies lack proper training. The same design that could make interactions safer may also force people to disclose something deeply personal just to move through public life, which is why most of these programs stress that the markers are voluntary and part of a broader conversation about rights, safety, and trust.​

The Sunflower Movement

The Sunflower Movement takes a different, more global approach by using a simple visual symbol—a yellow sunflower on a green background—to quietly say, “I have a non-visible disability; I may need a little extra time or support.” The Hidden Disabilities Sunflower program started in UK airports and has spread across airlines, transit systems, and public venues in the U.S. and worldwide, with lanyards, pins, or badges that travelers can choose to wear. For people who travel, the appeal is that you don’t have to verbally explain a diagnosis every time you go through security or check in; instead, staff trained on the symbol are supposed to slow down, offer clearer instructions, or provide small accommodations like extra time, seating, or help navigating noisy, crowded spaces.​

Airports from Albany to Boise and Nashville have adopted the sunflower lanyard program as part of disability awareness and inclusion initiatives, often pairing it with staff training and signage so people know what the symbol means. Travelers with autism, chronic pain, anxiety, or other invisible conditions have described feeling more seen and less judged when wearing the lanyard, especially in stressful spaces like TSA lines or boarding gates. At the same time, the sunflower is not legally binding—unlike ADA accommodations—and depends heavily on staff attitudes; if workers aren’t trained or take it as “just a nice idea,” the symbol can lose its power and even feel performative. For many in our generation, the Sunflower Movement sits at the intersection of design and dignity: it’s a low-tech, opt-in signal that can make travel more humane, but it also reminds us that real inclusion still requires policy, training, and accountability behind the symbol.

CRPD and Human Dignity

While there are clearly benefits to implementing such IDs, there are also human rights concerns that we need to be aware of when placing identifying markers on government documents. The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities emphasizes respect for inherent dignity, autonomy, and privacy, which implicitly warns against measures that increase stigma or surveillance. An ID marker might help in some emergencies, but it can also conflict with the right to privacy and non-discrimination if used coercively or without strong safeguards.​ On one hand, the designation could protect life and security (civil and political rights) in police encounters; on the other, it could undermine equal treatment in employment, housing, or education if IDs are widely requested or copied, thereby harming economic, social, and cultural rights. From a human rights perspective, it is important to consider this bill’s implications for privacy, potential misuse of data, and the risk of profiling. There is the potential for harmful labeling labeling and hidden discrimination practices through this policy, particularly for marginalized communities already facing over-policing.​​

Conclusion

For Alabamians with “invisible” disabilities, this new ID proposal raises immediate questions: Who controls disability disclosure? How do policies intended to “help” sometimes deepen exclusion? And how can we push for alternatives—like better training, crisis-response reform, and universal design—rather than relying on labels that follow disabled people everywhere they go? Creating a human-rights-oriented world requires creativity and innovation, and ID markers and sunflowers are just two methods among many that we could implement to advance this cause. In pursuit of human rights, let’s be sure to consider the pros and cons of every step we take. ​

Satellite Images of Sudan: The Massacre of El-Fasher

Refugee camp for internally displaced persons, with poor living conditions, lack of water, hygiene, shelter and food.
image 1: Refugee camp for internally displace persons (IDPs). Source: Adobe Stock. By Miros. Asset ID: 541706476.

From far away, the tiny objects littering the grounds of El-Fasher, Sudan might not look like anything, slightly discolored; their white and red spots show a stark contrast to the once empty space captured by Satellite images a couple of days prior. Other images show burnt vehicles and dark spots outside of buildings. To the untrained eye, they might not look like much, but the images, collected on October 28, 2025, verify the ongoing massacre of the city, and the white and red discoloration, the bodies of those killed.  

Yale University’s Humanitarian Crisis research team has been collecting satellite images of Sudan throughout the civil war. Recent results found that 31 of the clusters from the satellite images were consistent with human remains. Communication within El Fasher has been extremely restricted since the invasion and mass killings by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Those who escaped report people being beaten, robbed, and killed in their pursuit to escape, with children witnessing their parents being gunned down. One of the most concerning factors, reported by Yale University, is the absence of movement within the city. 

The ongoing civil war in Sudan, which began in April 2023, has resulted in the destruction of cities, the death of thousands, and the starvation and displacement of millions. In my previous blog, Chlorine Warfare in Sudan’s Ongoing Humanitarian Crisis, the SAF’s use of chlorine gas was evaluated in relation to International Humanitarian Law, along with the humanitarian crisis in Sudan. With the recent massacre of El-Fasher, satellite images have further highlighted the devastation of the war. 

International Humanitarian Law outlines the protections of civilians, medical workers, civilian infrastructure, and hospitals. Violations of these are considered war crimes. Throughout the war, both the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Force (RSF) have violated International Humanitarian Law and committed war crimes. This blog will discuss the recent satellite images and the end to the 500-day siege of El-Fasher, which highlights the human rights and international humanitarian law violations that are occurring there.

The End of the 500 Day Siege and the Massacre of El-Fasher

Map of Sudan that shows the main conflict forces. Source: Adobe Stock. By Serhii. Asset ID: 817218906
Image 2: Map of Sudan: Main Conflict Forces. Source: Adobe Stock. By Serhii. Asset ID: 817218906

Darfur, a region located in west Sudan, holds El-Fasher, the capital of North Darfur. This region borders Chad, which has seen an influx in refugees since the start of the civil war. El-Fasher was the last major stronghold controlled by the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) in Darfur. On October 23, 2025, after the 500-day siege of El Fasher, RSF fighters targeted civilian homes; large scale execution, starvation, and sexual violence have ensued. 

Targeting civilians, civilian infrastructure, hospitals, medical workers, and humanitarian workers are all violations of International Humanitarian Law and constitute war crimes. There have also been reports of summary executions that specifically target certain ethnic groups. Summary killing means the execution of a person or people who are accused of a crime but have not been given a trial. 

In Tawila, a town close to El-Fasher, 652,000 displaced people are taking shelter. Since the RSF took control of El Fasher, hospitals, their patients and medical workers have been targeted. Reports state that in the Saudi Maternity Hospital, which is located in El-Fasher, patients were massacred, medics were attacked, and humanitarian workers were targeted. In this hospital, which had survived multiple bombings and continued to offer medical aid, close to 500 people were executed.

While the RSF have consistently committed atrocities against civilians and humanitarian aid workers, the SAF have also recklessly bombed areas, which has caused the death of civilians and reduced civilian infrastructure to rubble. The SAF has also contributed to the increase in sexual violence throughout the war, tortured people, desecrated bodies, and killed people without first giving them a trial. 

In Human Rights Watch’s report on Sudan, they stated that both the RSF and the SAF are complicit in blocking aid. Both sides have also knowingly targeted local first responders. Throughout the war, one thing has been apparent; both sides are willing to target civilians and commit war crimes in order to get what they want. This brutality has been dramatically apparent in El-Fasher, where there is disturbing evidence that a massacre is likely to have occurred there in recent weeks. 

Satellite Imaging Evidence

Peaceful protester holds sign representing Sudanese flag in front of his face. Source: Adobe Stock. By: Gérard Bottino. Assert ID#: 273049844.
Image 3: Peaceful protester holds sign representing Sudanese flag in front of his face. Source: Adobe Stock. By: Gérard Bottino. Assert ID#: 273049844.

There are many difficulties in gathering accurate information about ongoing atrocities, given the dangers of reporting from such areas and the challenges of communicating information from the affected areas to the outside world. Because of this, satellite imagery can be highly useful for producing real-time assessments of severe human rights abuses such as those being committed in El-Fasher. Throughout the end of October, 2025, Yale University observed and collected satellite imaging of El-Fasher, Sudan. In a side by side of two images, there are clusters of objects and ground discoloration. On October 27th, the viewer can see a group of objects with red and white discoloration around it. Just four days later, on October 31st, you can see the cluster on the ground, but the red and white discoloration have faded. This can be seen in Yale University’s Humanitarian Crisis Research Lab’s report on satellite imaging in El-Fasher, Sudan, on page 28. The report interprets this information as follows:

“Yale HRL assesses the fading of red discoloration as an additional data point corroborating its assessments that these discolorations are related to bodily fluid including red” (pg. 7, Yale School of Public Health: Humanitarian Research Lab). 

On page 29 of the report, you can see clusters of objects near and around the Al-Saudi Hospital, taken on October 28, 2025. In the images, white objects surround the outside walls of the hospital. These objects are not seen in satellite images that were taken of the area prior to October 28th, and they are not seen again in images taken on October 31st, see page 30. 

Yale HRL reports that its recent satellite images have not picked up any mass movement heading out of El-Fasher, even though the city was said to have an estimated 250,000 people living there. The lack of movement is suspicious, and Yale HRL interprets it as indicating “that the majority of civilians are dead, captured, or in hiding” (see page 3 of the report). In the absence of reliable communications from El-Fasher, this satellite imagery provides essential documentation of likely human rights abuses that can be used to inform the human rights community and spur people to action. 

Conclusion

In the weeks since RSF ransacked El-Fasher, around 100,00 people have escaped to nearby villages. The situation in Sudan continues to be critical, and the situation in El-Fasher, dire. There are still people trapped within the city, and little information has come out in regards to how many were killed by the RSF. 

The estimated number of people residing in El-Fasher before the conflict was 250,000, not including those taking refuge there. With only 100,000 people having been reported to have escaped, this leaves over half the population of El-Fasher unaccounted for. According to the reports, there has been little movement within the city, with the images of clusters and discolorations a testament to that. These indications that grave human rights abuses have recently been committed in El-Fasher should concern human rights defenders everywhere. 

Racism and Colorism in Cuba

Because racism and colorism are persistent parts of reality in the world we inhabit, this blog post will be focusing on racism and colorism, specifically in Cuba. Cuba, an island located in the Caribbean, has dealt with racism historically and currently. On December 9th, 2024, representatives of the Cuban state and civil society met at the International Conference Cuba 2024 for the Decade of African descendants, which promotes an anti-racist cause. Five years previous to this, the Cuban Council of Ministers approved the National Program Against Racism and Colorism because they felt that there was a strong need to eliminate prejudices in Cuba. One may ask what some of the things that led to the Council’s decision were. It is therefore important to look at Cuba’s history in order to understand the current Cuban state.

Historical Context

Green Sedan Parked in Front of Building
Green Sedan parked in front of building. Source: Pexels; Photo by Yuting Gao: https://www.pexels.com/photo/green-sedan-parked-on-front-of-building-1637112/


Cuba has an extensive colonial history; it was colonized by the Spanish. Until 1810, Cuba was officially part of the vast Spanish Empire that spread out across the Americas. It was also one of the key ports in the Atlantic world of plantation economies and slavery. According to Alexander von Humboldt, the Spanish Empire represented the true wealth of America, because the competing colonies were small islands and coastal settlements. Spain lost its mainland colonies during the Spanish American wars of independence, which lasted until about 1830, but the majority of the Cuban elite remained loyal to Spain for economic reasons. The Cuban colony had previously built a crucial sugar industry that relied on an extensive amount of slave labor. Havana and Matanzas had become the wealthiest agricultural region in the Atlantic/ American world. It was home to a highly industrialized form of export agriculture known as “Cuba A” or “Big Cuba,” characterized by large-scale slavery, modern sugar mills and advanced infrastructure like railroads. From 1820 to 1870, Cuba also depended heavily on the illegal slave trade, which provided the financial and human foundation for its expanding sugar-based economy.

Racism in Cuba was based on supposed biological differences. The first efforts to develop a legal understanding of the Cuban Black class were undertaken by Spain’s imperial elite through the introduction of new slave codes in 1785 and 1789. In the “Código Negro Carolino” for the island of Santo Domingo, the Crown and its colonial power structures aimed to codify a rigid hierarchy of social classes organized according to skin color and geographic ancestry which was based on Africa. At the bottom of this system was the “negro class” made up of enslaved people. Right above the enslaved people were the free people of color, classified as Blacks, Mulattos, and Pardos.

Marriage across these color lines allowed for limited movement within the hierarchy. When a darker woman ranging in classification from Black to light mulatta married a lighter-skinned man, their children could occupy one of several intermediary ranks of Tercerones and Cuarterones. By the sixth generation, if the paternal line had consistently remained white, the descendants could legally be recognized as white. As these codes established and reinforced the boundaries of the Black class, separating it sharply from other colonial castes, the Spanish Crown opened paths for social mobility. Wealthy Morenos, Pardos, and mulattos were permitted to purchase the privileges of whiteness such as title “don,” membership in elite professional guilds, and higher education. As a result, these reforms both institutionalized races as a legal category and reinforced Cuba’s racial order. However, limited upward socioeconomic mobility was available for those who could afford it.


Bringing it Back to the Present

Man Wearing Straw Hat While Smoking
Man wearing straw hat, smoking a cigar. Source: Pexels; Photo by Anton: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-wearing-straw-hat-while-smoking-47296/


Castroism, though it claims to be egalitarian and did result in material gains for the Afro-Cuban population, did not eradicate racism. Behind all of the government’s efforts to promote equality hid the continual traces of colorism and racism in Cuba. Although Cuba projected itself internationally as a champion of racial justice, this image hid continuous forms of inequalities at home. After the Cuban revolution, official claims that racism had been eliminated made public discussions of race taboo. The Castro government even dissolved Afro-Cuban clubs and associations that had long served as spaces for advocacy and mutual support. This is in direct violation of Article 1 of the UDHR which states that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights and that they are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood. The silencing of Afro-Cuban Clubs that served as a place for advocacy shows that the government and others within Cuban society did not want Blacks to have much of a say-so, perhaps because they did not feel as if the Afro-Cubans had the same status and dignity as the rest of the population.

This illusion of racial unity began to unravel following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989. Subsequent reforms reshaped Cuba’s economy and exposed the racial disparities that revolutionary rhetoric had long denied. Today, racial hierarchies remain deeply embedded in everyday life. In fact, speaking openly about racial inequality can result in social backlash. This was the case as Afro-Cuban clubs face backlash as they tried to talk about disparities in the Afro-Cuban community and provide advocacy. This is also a direct violation of the UDHR’s preamble as it describes that freedom of speech should be enjoyed by all. It is also a violation of Article 20, which says that “everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association.”


Colorism

Colorful Cuban Street Vendor with Basket of Flowers
Colorful Cuban street vendor with basket of flowers. Source: Pexels; Photo by Fernando Sánchez Aranguren: https://www.pexels.com/photo/colorful-cuban-street-vendor-with-basket-of-flowers-32512015/

One way that colorism and anti-Blackness manifest in Cuba occurs in the tourism industry. Tourism is one of the country’s main industries, and job postings in this field often use coded phrases such as searching for “buena presencia,” which translates to “good appearance”. “Good appearance” implicitly refers to physical features that are less common among Cuba’s Black population. Such practices continuously push the social and economic dominance of whiteness and scream the remnant voices of colonialism.

Colorism is also prevalent in homes, which is where racial learning begins. Cuban families are often racially diverse, and siblings can be categorized differently depending on their appearances. Within households, casual comparisons between pelo malo, which means “bad hair” and is used to refer to kinkier and darker hair, and pelo bueno, which translates to “good hair,” reflect and reproduce racial hierarchies. This shows that many Black Cubans encounter prejudice first not from the government or from other citizens, but from relatives who believe the same biases and prejudices that marginalize them.

Afro-Cubans are aware of this prejudice, as is made clear in an interview conducted by Lulu Garcia Navarro, a journalist who went to Cuba during a 2021 protest. She found that it was the Afro-Cubans that represented the majority of those involved in the protests. She said that during her visits to Cuba, she heard Afro-Cubans talk about how they are referred to in a different way or discussed differently than their white or lighter-skinned counterparts. She provided more context for listeners by interviewing Dr. Amalia Dache, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania who researches Cuba, about this phenomenon. Dache confirmed that the lighter-skinned Cuban population saw the darker skinned Afro-Cuban population as subordinate or as second-class citizens. She then said that “The colonial system of race did not end with the revolution.” Clearly, Cuba has a long way to go when it comes to building a society that respects all people. Still, there are efforts to improve, as demonstrated by the strong Cuban presence at the May 2025 meeting of the Permanent Forum on People of African Descent at the United Nations. It is also encouraging to see that, since April 2018, there have been many high-level politicians in Cuba who are Black. As Raúl Castro noted in his April 2018 retirement speech, racism is still rife in Cuba. However, Afro-Cubans are working hard to change this.

AI in Mental Health Diagnostics

Digital cloud earth floating on neon data circle grid in cyberspace particle wave.
Image 1: Digital cloud earth floating on neon data circle grid in cyberspace particle wave. Adobe Express Stock Images. ZETHA_WORK. #425579329

In recent years, the promise of artificial intelligence (AI) in mental-health care has grown rapidly. AI systems now assist in screening for depression or anxiety, help design treatment plans, and analyze huge volumes of patient data. However, emerging evidence shows that these systems are not neutral: they can embed and amplify bias, threaten rights to equality and non‐discrimination, and have psychological consequences for individuals. We’ll be examining how and why bias arises in AI applications for mental health, the human rights implications, and what psychological effects these developments may carry.

The Rise of AI in Mental Health

AI’s application in mental health is appealing. Many people worldwide lack timely access to mental-health professionals, and AI systems promise scale, cost-efficiency, and new capabilities, like detecting subtle speech or behavioral patterns, that might identify issues earlier. For example, algorithms trained on speech patterns aim to flag depression or PTSD in users.

In principle, this could extend care to underserved populations and reduce the global burden of mental illness. But the technology is emerging in a context of longstanding disparities in mental health care; differences in who is diagnosed, who receives care, and who gets quality treatment.

How Bias Enters AI-based Mental Health Tools

Bias in AI systems does not begin with the algorithm alone; it often starts with the data. Historical and structural inequities, under-representation of certain demographic groups, and sensor or model limitations can all embed biased patterns that then get automated.

A recent systematic review notes major ethical issues in AI interventions for mental health and well‐being: “privacy and confidentiality, informed consent, bias and fairness, transparency and accountability, autonomy and human agency, and safety and efficacy.”

In the mental health screening context, a study from the University of Colorado found that tools screening speech for depression or anxiety performed less well for women and people of non‐white racial identity because of differences in speech patterns and model training bias. A separate study of four large language models (LLMs) found that for otherwise identical hypothetical psychiatric cases, treatment recommendations differed when the patient was identified (explicitly or implicitly) as African American, suggesting racial bias.

These disparities matter: if a diagnostic tool is less accurate for certain groups, those groups may receive delayed or improper care or be misdiagnosed. From a rights perspective, this raises issues of equality and non-discrimination. Every individual has a right to healthcare of acceptable quality, regardless of race, gender, socioeconomic status, or other status.

Human Rights Implications

Right to health and equitable access

Under human rights law, states have obligations to respect, protect, and fulfill the right to health. That includes ensuring mental health services are available, accessible, acceptable and of quality. If AI tools become widespread but are biased against certain groups, the quality and accessibility of care will differ, and that violates the equality dimension of the right to health.

Right to non-discrimination

The principle of non-discrimination is foundational: individuals should not face less favorable treatment due to race, gender, language, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, or other prohibited grounds. If an AI mental health tool systematically under-detects problems among women or ethnic minorities or over-targets mental-health evaluation for other groups, discrimination is implicated. For instance, a study found LGBTQIA+ individuals were much more likely to be recommended mental health assessments by AI tools than was clinically indicated based on socioeconomic or demographic profile.

Right to privacy, autonomy and dignity

Mental health data is deeply personal. The use of AI to screen, predict or recommend treatment based on speech, text or behavior engages issues of privacy and autonomy. Individuals must be able to consent, understand how their data is used, challenge decisions, and access human oversight. The systematic review flagged “autonomy and human agency” as core ethical considerations.

Accountability and due process

When decisions about screening, diagnosis, or intervention are influenced by opaque algorithms, accountability becomes unclear. Who is responsible if an AI tool fails or produces biased recommendations? The software developer? The clinician? The institution? This ambiguity can undermine rights to remedy and oversight. The “Canada Protocol” checklist for AI in suicide prevention emphasized the need for clear lines of accountability in AI-driven mental health systems.

Differential labeling and stigma

When AI systems target certain groups disproportionately, for example, recommending mental health assessments for lower-income or LGBTQIA+ individuals when not clinically indicated, it may reinforce stigma. Being singled out for mental health screening based on demographic profile rather than actual need can produce feelings of being pathologized or surveilled.

Bias in therapeutic relationship

Mental health care depends heavily on the relationship between a person and their clinician. Trust, empathy, and feeling understood often determine how effective treatment will be. When someone believes their provider truly listens and treats them fairly, they’re more likely to engage and improve. But if technology or bias undermines that sense of understanding, people may withdraw from care or lose confidence in the system.

Reduced effectiveness or misdiagnosis

If an AI tool under-detects depression among certain groups, like women or ethnic minorities, and that leads to delayed treatment, then the psychological impact of possible longer suffering, increased severity, and reduced hope is real and harm-producing. One study found that AI treatment recommendations were inferior when race was indicated, particularly for schizophrenia cases.

These psychological effects show that bias in AI is not just a technical defect; it can ripple into lived experience, identity, mental health trajectories, and rights realization.

Chatbot conversation Ai Artificial Intelligence technology online customer service.
Image 2: Chatbot conversation with AI technology online customer service. Adobe Express Stock Images. khunkornStudio.
#567681994

Why AI Bias Persists and What Makes Mental Health AI Especially Vulnerable

Data limitations and under-representation

Training data often reflect historical care patterns, which may under-sample certain groups or encode socio-cultural norms that do not generalize. The University of Colorado study highlighted that speech-based AI tools failed to generalize across gender and racial variation.

Hidden variables and social determinants

One perspective argues that disparities in algorithmic performance arise not simply from race labels but also from un-modelled variables, such as racism-related stress, generational trauma, poverty, and language differences, all of which affect mental health profiles but may not be captured in datasets.

Psychology of diagnostic decision-making

Mental health diagnosis is not purely objective; it involves interpretation, cultural nuance, and relational trust. AI tools often cannot replicate that nuance and may misinterpret behaviors or speech patterns that differ culturally. That raises a psychological dimension: people from different backgrounds may present differently, and a one-size-fits-all tool may misclassify them.

Moving Toward Rights-Respecting AI in Mental Health

Given the stakes for rights and psychology, what should stakeholders do? Below are guiding principles anchored in human rights considerations and psychological realities:

  1. Inclusive and representative datasets
    AI developers should ensure that training and validation data reflect diverse populations across race, gender, language, culture, and socioeconomic status. Without this, bias will persist. Datasets should also capture social determinants of mental health, such as poverty, trauma, and discrimination, rather than assuming clinical presentations are uniform.
  2. Transparency, explainability, and human oversight
    Patients and clinicians should know if an AI tool is being used and how it functions, and they should remain able to challenge its outputs. Human clinicians must retain decision-making responsibility; AI should augment, not replace, human judgement, especially in mental-health care.
  3. Bias-testing and ongoing evaluation
    AI tools should be tested for fairness and performance across demographic groups before deployment, and, once deployed, they should be continuously monitored. One large study found that AI recommendations varied significantly by race, gender, and income.
    Also, mitigation techniques are emerging to reduce bias in speech- or behavior-based models.
  4. Rights to remedy and accountability
    When AI-driven systems produce harmful or discriminatory outcomes, individuals must have paths to redress. Clear accountability must be established among developers, providers, and institutions. Regulatory frameworks should reflect human rights standards: non-discrimination, equal treatment, and access to care of quality.
  5. Psychological safety and dignity
    Mental health tools must respect the dignity of individuals, allow for cultural nuance, and avoid pathologizing individuals based purely on demographic algorithms. The design of AI tools should consider psychological impacts: does this tool enhance trust, reduce stigma, and facilitate care, or does it increase anxiety, self-doubt, or disengagement?
  6. Translate rights into policy and practice
    States and professional bodies should integrate guidelines for AI in mental health into regulation, licensing, and accreditation structures. Civil society engagement, which includes patient voices, mental-health advocates, and rights organizations, is critical to shaping responsible implementation.

Looking Ahead: Opportunities and Risks

AI has enormous potential to improve access to mental health care, personalize care, and detect risks earlier than ever before. But, as with many new technologies, the impacts will not be equal by default. Without a proactive focus on bias, human rights, and psychological nuance, we risk a two-tier system: those who benefit versus those left behind or harmed.

In a favorable scenario, AI tools become transparent and inclusive, and they empower both clinicians and patients. They support, rather than supplant, human judgement; they recognize diversity of presentation; they strengthen trust and equity in mental health care.
In a less favorable scenario, AI solidifies existing disparities, misdiagnoses or omits vulnerable groups, and erodes trust in mental-health systems, compounding rights violations with psychological harm.

The path that materializes will depend on choices made today: how we design AI tools, how we regulate them, and how we embed rights and psychological insight into their use. For people seeking mental health support, equity and dignity must remain at the heart of innovation.

Conclusion

The use of AI in mental health diagnostics offers promise, but it also invites serious rights-based scrutiny. From equality of access and non-discrimination to privacy, dignity and psychological safety, the human rights stakes are real and urgent. Psychologists, technologists, clinicians, regulators and rights advocates must work together to ensure that AI supports mental health for all, not just for some. When bias is allowed to persist, the consequences are not only technical, but they’re also human.

Where Do You Go When Your Country Sinks?

How the climate has changed

Our planet is mostly blue. About 71% of the Earth’s surface is covered by water, leaving less than a third as land. Throughout the 20th century, sea levels rose about 0.06 inches each year. But over the past two decades, that rate has more than doubled, now rising to about 0.14 inches (.36 cm) per year.

While those numbers may seem small, they gradually add up to a significant amount. Just in 30 years (1993-2023) global sea levels have risen about 4 inches (10 cm), enough to erase entire stretches of coastline; a single inch of additional rise can take away anywhere from 4 to 9 feet of beach . Let’s say that 6.5 feet (1.98 meters) of beach is lost with every extra inch. If levels rise 4 inches, nearly 26 feet (7.9 meters) of coastline disappears in 30 years.

Sea levels near a doc, it is shown that part of the stairs that go down to something are flooded.
By: Richard Source: Adobe Stock Asset ID#: 311767670

Who is affected?

Now imagine living somewhere where the average elevation is about 3 to 10 feet above sea level.  Imagining the impact of 4 inches is hard, but if sea levels are rise a mere 1.5 feet (45 cm) by 2100, only 23% of the Maldives will remain above water. Today, the Maldives has a population of around 540,000 people. If levels continue rising, it means that in just 2 generations the country will be almost completely submerged underwater and uninhabitable.

Another country in danger of disappearance is Kiribati. It lies in the central Pacific Ocean with average elevations of about 6 feet (1.8 meters). While not at the same level of danger as the Maldives, their chances of surviving rising sea levels remain low. In 2008, the Kiribati president asked the countries of Australia and New Zealand to accept Kiribati citizens for permanent relocation. Presently two of the islands of the Republic of Kiribati, Tebua Tarawa and Abanuea, are completely underwater. Many communities and towns have been forced to uproot and move further inland due to the destruction of farmland caused by saltwater.

These island countries are not the only ones at risk when it comes to rising sea levels. Coastal cities in the U.S. will suffer similar fates. New York, for instance, is highly impacted by flooding, and it is estimated that in just 25 years almost 500,000 people will experience living on “threatened land,” which refers to areas that are at risk of flooding. Besides New York, Florida is at the highest risk of experiencing extreme flooding and shrinking coastlines.

The Islands of the Maldives from a bird's eye view
By: raul77 Source: Adobe Stock Asset ID#: 532722555

Protections against climate change

Currently, there are no regulations on how to define those who are forced to leave their homes due to climate-related changes. Displacement can come from gradual causes, like rising sea levels, or sudden ones, like hurricanes, but in both cases, there is no clear international law to guide what happens next. However, when there is a hurricane that causes significant damage, the response is more obvious than the response to gradual change. People are rendered homeless in a matter of days, and neighboring countries and foreign allies provide necessary aid to help sustain those affected.

With climate change, though, in this case rising sea levels, displacement becomes much more gradual. Bit by bit people are pushed inland, and while most do not want to leave their home countries, in some cases, they are left with no choice but to flee.  With the current international law, it is difficult to receive help. Those seeking to relocate are met with lengthy processes and a lack of support.

In 2012, a Kiribati national was severely affected by the rising sea levels. He stated that because of the salt affecting the land he had no way of growing food, so he applied to be a “climate refugee” and seek asylum in New Zealand. His application was rejected and his appeal denied, with New Zealand’s government stating that climate change is not a recognized condition for refugee status.

Articles in the UDHR (Universal Declaration of Human Rights) are meant to protect people from harm and provide solutions in the case of extreme conditions. Under Article 14, people have a right to seek asylum in other countries in the case of persecution. The article does not mention anything about climate change, and climate change is not considered to be persecution. This is important in the case of the Kiribati national, because while he is justified for wanting to seek asylum, there is not a law that protects him against climate change.

This is not to say that the articles in the UDHR cannot be used to justify the fact that such displacements constitute a human rights violation. Article 25 promises the right to food and shelter. Rising sea levels bring salt water into agricultural lands and contaminate the fresh water supply needed to sustain crop growth. This directly threatens countries’ abilities to grow food, which limits their access to either have access to their own crops or use those crops in trade. Sealife also becomes impacted through warming and rising oceans. Fish, which is one of the main food groups for island countries, become scarcer as their coral reef habitats die.

Flooding that is covering homes, roads, and agriculture
By: bilanol Source: Adobe Stock Asset ID#: 360498460

Conclusion

Climate change is already having significant impacts on today’s society; however, there are not any straightforward solutions for those impacted by it yet. It is clear that if sea levels continue to rise, there will have to be modifications made for those displaced through reasons other than persecution. From a human rights perspective, laws that protect those who are losing their homes and countries due to rising sea levels will be imperative in the future.

Climate change is gradual and constant, and many people do not think about it, but it is still a humanitarian crisis. In the poorer countries, it continues to be the main driver for humanitarian aid. But aid is temporary, and it eventually runs out, which is why there is a need for lawfully binding change. In the future we can hope that laws around asylum for displacement will adopt broader conditions, but for now, it is important to support those who are already experiencing it.

Breaking the Huddle: How Domestic Violence Touches Every Alabama Classroom

Breaking the Huddle: How Domestic Violence Touches Every Alabama Classroom

Aggression in the family, man beating up his wife. Domestic violence concept.
Aggression in the family, man beating up his wife. Domestic violence concept.By: doidam10. Source: Adobe Stock. Asset ID#: 229549647

Domestic violence is not simply a distant tragedy or a headline attached to famous names—it’s a daily crisis with real victims in every Alabama community. Shortly after Christmas 2024, former NFL star Marcell Dareus was arrested in Hoover after a violent altercation. This event of early 2025, underscores how quickly intimate relationships can turn dangerous. This incident isn’t exceptional; it reflects a pattern that plays out in neighborhoods across the state, affecting classmates, coworkers, and friends. Understanding this reality isn’t optional for college students; it’s essential for building safer campuses and futures.

Domestic violence is a human rights violation disguised as a “private matter.” International law and human rights frameworks are clear: everyone has the right to live free from violence, fear, and discrimination. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) guarantees, in Article 3, the right to “life, liberty and security of person.” Article 5 further prohibits “torture or cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.” Survivors of domestic violence are entitled to protection, safety, and access to justice under both U.S. law and international treaties such as the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW).

A Crisis Next Door: The Local Reality

For many, domestic violence may seem like a private matter that happens behind closed doors, far removed from campus life. But the truth is, it’s happening in your neighborhood—maybe even in your residence hall. The case of Marcell Dareus, a 34-year-old celebrity athlete, and the woman he harmed, is only one of thousands of incidents reported each year in Alabama. This incident is a sobering reminder that abuse can escalate from arguments to physical violence in mere moments.

Picture this: It’s 2 a.m., one week after Christmas. In a quiet Hoover subdivision, just minutes from UAB’s campus, a well-known athlete shoves his partner to the ground and smashes her car with a metal object. The victim could easily be your lab partner, a friend from your sorority, or the barista who knows your coffee order by heart. The physical injuries may heal, but the psychological trauma—fear, anxiety, distrust—can linger for years. And for every headline-grabbing case, countless more go unreported, leaving survivors to navigate their pain in silence.

When we ask, “Why does this matter to me?” the answer is simple: domestic violence is not limited by age, class, or background. If you think it could never touch your world, consider that four in ten women and one in four men will experience intimate partner violence in their lifetimes. The odds are overwhelming that someone you know—maybe even someone you love—is a survivor.

The Numbers Lawmakers Can’t Ignore

The statistics surrounding domestic violence in Alabama and the US are both staggering and deeply personal. Domestic violence is cited as a top cause of homelessness for women, and it costs billions of dollars nationwide, with one estimate saying that intimate partner violence costs $5.8 billion annually nationwide. This figure includes $4.2 billion for medical costs for physical assault and $1.75 billion in lost productivity. The Institute for Women’s Policy Research estimates the cost of domestic violence at $9.3 billion (2017 dollars), which includes intimate partner violence, sexual assault, and stalking, with medical and lost wages as core components of these costs. For Alabama, extrapolations from Youth Today’s national $3.6 trillion lifetime estimate suggest that state costs are in the low billions. That’s a staggering sum that drains resources from schools, hospitals, and public safety initiatives—money that could otherwise go toward scholarships, better facilities, or improved mental health services.

Every minute, 24 Americans become victims of intimate partner violence, amounting to over 12 million people every year. These aren’t just statistics; they are stories of dreams deferred, educations interrupted, and futures derailed. The consequences ripple outward: children witnessing violence at home are more likely to struggle academically, develop emotional disorders, and, in some cases, perpetuate the cycle of abuse as adults. The link between domestic violence and future criminal behavior is undeniable.

The country’s legal landscape has only made things worse for those at risk of domestic violence. The Supreme Court’s decision to allow states to ban abortion has, according to experts, raised the likelihood that women will be subjected to intimate partner violence. When women lose reproductive autonomy, abusers gain more power, trapping partners in dangerous, sometimes deadly relationships. Domestic violence can be considered a human rights violation, and Alabama’s numbers show just how entrenched the problem is.

Taking Action: Your Role in the Playbook

If you think there’s nothing you can do, think again. Staying silent keeps domestic violence alive; speaking up can end it. Students are uniquely positioned to notice the warning signs—changes in a friend’s mood, unexplained injuries, sudden withdrawal from activities—and offer support. The most important thing you can do is believe survivors, connect them with campus and community resources, and, if necessary, call for help.

There are also events happening throughout Alabama to raise awareness and provide support. On October 24th in Tuscaloosa, the Purple Purse Drive collected donations for survivors. And in September in Birmingham, Safe Bar training was offered at 20 bars to help staff recognize and respond to abuse. These events are more than just calendar entries—they’re opportunities to get involved and save lives.

Conclusion: Your 60-Second Play Call

Domestic violence is not “someone else’s problem.” It is the roommate who flinches at loud noises, the teammate hiding bruises, the future nurse who can’t study because home isn’t safe. Every student in Alabama has the power—and the responsibility—to break the silence.

  1. Post #RollAwayFromViolence on social media and tag @ALCADV to raise awareness.
  2. Vote – some candidates’ domestic violence prevention plans are available at Vote411.org
  3. The huddle is broken. Now make the tackle.

Need help now?

  • National DV Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
  • Alabama 24/7: 1-800-650-6522
  • Text “START” to 88788

Roll Tide—and roll away from violence.