Culture

“The shoemaker’s children always go barefoot.”

You’ve probably heard this saying at least once in your life. It captures the way we often use our expertise to benefit others but not ourselves.  

In a communication and marketing agency, there’s definitely truth to this idea. We place our clients first, helping them stay fresh, exciting and up-to-date. Yet it’s easy to overlook the advice we spend our days dispensing. 

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 10 years since Fenton’s last major branding update. In that time, we’ve helped many clients evolve their brands and identities so they can be better able to change the world. 

And let’s be clear, it hasn’t just been any decade. When Fenton last rebranded, Obama was in his second term as president. Donald Trump was a reality show host. Most people were more likely to encounter the word “pandemic” on a Scrabble board than in the news and were blissfully unaware of now-ubiquitous terms like “coronavirus,” “social distancing” and “X/Twitter-Owner Elon Musk.”

Over the last 10 years, the challenges our world faces have changed, and Fenton has changed to meet them. We’ve grown from about 55 staff to more than 100. We’ve developed into a digital powerhouse, using the latest technology to help nonprofits, foundations and corporations change lives and make a tangible difference on issues that matter.

Now in our early 40s, Fenton has practice areas led by some of the field’s top senior professionals, fully integrated Digital, Creative and Advertising shops, five thriving employee resource groups (ESGs) and dedicated teams for People/HR, Client Services Operations and Finance. And we are the industry’s most diverse and multicultural firm, led by Latina communications pioneer Valarie De La Garza, and our representation in core and leadership positions far outpaces our agency peers. 

After 10 years, it’s time that we took the advice we give to clients: your brand is a promise you make to the world, so it needs to reflect who you are today and who you want to be in the future. 

As we frequently tell our clients, great solutions begin with questions. We surveyed a sampling of our clients and all of our staff to learn their brand. We turned to Bushwick Digital, who we often partner with to produce design and digital tools for our clients, and made ourselves their client. Together, we tried to tease out how to honor our origins, of which we are proud, and what we needed to let go of so that we can advance.

Did we need a new name? Should we keep or change our color palette? Did we need a new tagline? We considered what we needed to capture to represent who we are in 2023 and where we plan to go in the next decade. In our research, we learned that our name still serves us well, but a new graphic identity and tagline would capture today’s vibe. An updated brand with nods to legacy that looks forward with strength was the goal. 

Fenton is a mission-driven organization. We partner with organizations, foundations and brands that share our vision for a more healthy, equitable and just world. Our new tagline, “Strategists for Social Change,” captures that we are not a PR firm that will promote anything or anyone for the right price. Our team brings deep sector experience and expertise to their work to strategize comprehensively for their clients.

When you visit our new website, you will see that we are a people-powered organization, organized to serve our clients in driving progress. We are not corporate, but we understand the high stakes discussed in the C Suite. And, more than ever, we love the power of collaboration to produce impact. 

Our bold color palette is designed to show that we are vocal – but not loud; modern – but not chasing fads; diverse and inclusive. We have a new orange color and an evolved way to symbolize movement forward and upward.

Our logo is at the center of our brand system. The glyph symbolizes our evolution from progress to impact – impact that sparks change. When we see that logo, it embodies everything we do to advance our clients’ mission. When you see that ”impact arrow,” we hope it represents the change our work makes in the world. 

Like anyone facing down their 40s, Fenton took a moment to look back and to look forward. We’re embracing all that we’ve learned and using it to chart new directions, new avenues for progress and new ways to create lasting, systemic change. 

New Orleans is where the waters come together. By the time it passes under the Huey P. Long Bridge in Jefferson Parish, the Mississippi River is the sum total of 7,000 different streams stretching across North America, from Idaho to New York.

I felt that sense of different streams coming together when I landed in New Orleans for Fenton Forward, a four-day retreat bringing our full staff together for the first time since 2020. That morning, we left our homes in New York and California, Washington, D.C. and Washington State and communities in between. Now here we were, more than 120 strong, coming together to connect, celebrate Fenton’s first 40 years and prepare for the opportunities and challenges that lie ahead.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m here to change the world.”
Valarie De La Garza, CEO, Fenton Communications

Even now, three years into the COVID-19 pandemic, real, in-person connection feels new. Over and over, I heard the same thing: “It’s so weird seeing everyone in person. Not in little Zoom boxes, but actual people.”

What made it even more novel was that, for many of us, this was the first time we’d ever really met. Teams who’ve worked together every day for years, fighting to protect reproductive freedom, preserve democracy, expand health care access and support racial justice were able to gather around a table, celebrate the impact they’ve created and plan for what comes next.  

To reconnect, recommit and recharge, together, was something gloriously new. It was so normal. How strange.

“I want to know your superpower.”
Mary Moran, Executive Director & Co-founder, Our Voice Nuestra Voz

A lifetime of organizing, teaching and grassroots action taught keynote speaker Mary Moran the power of knowing your story and strengths. As she spoke about her own advocacy journey, Mary challenged staff to share their superpowers. All of us were hesitant at first, but by the end, we shouted them out. 

Over the course of four days, some of the nation’s best social change communicators shared their superpowers with the rest of the team. Nationally-recognized figures like James Marcus and Valarie De La Garza led discussions on values-driven leadership. Meredith Fenton coached staff on how to speak from the heart and present with purpose.

Best of all was the knowledge we shared with each other. Senior staff taught crash courses on strategy, branding, messaging, media, crisis communications and digital engagement. I and others helped team members to hone their writing skills and use storytelling to change minds.

All of these skills will be critical as we look to the challenges ahead.

“We may need a bigger boat.”
Joe Wagner, Managing Director, Fenton Communications

Fenton has served as a progressive social change agency for 40 years. In that time, we’ve led major campaigns and achieved major victories in the U.S. and around the world. But we’ve never been more needed than we are today.

We’re facing a unique moment in history. Progressive movements are expanding, yet at the same time, our fundamental freedoms are under threat. Threats to our civil rights and democracy that once seemed unthinkable are now real — and terrifying.

Fenton has grown to meet these expanding needs. In just two years, the agency has doubled in size, bringing on dozens of talented, committed communicators. It wasn’t until I saw everyone together in one room that the scale and diversity of our team became real to me. 

That diversity, in both staff and leadership, is something that sets Fenton apart from others in this industry, and it’s not an accident. As our CEO said in her state of the agency address, “It is our responsibility to represent the diverse people and communities we serve.”

“Keep telling stories. Keep the light on.”
New Orleans Tour Guide

At the end of Fenton Forward, staff fanned out across the city for a morning of volunteer service with local nonprofits, then flew our separate ways. But even separated by distance, we are more united in our work. The connections forged are still growing; the knowledge shared and insights gleaned are driving new efforts and impact. New Orleans is where the waters come together, and once they do, they can’t be separated.

In honor of Latinx Heritage Month, Account Executive Celeste Rojas wrote about what being a descendant of an indigenous Oaxacan community means to her.

I can’t imagine a childhood without Zapoteco. I heard it most on Sunday afternoons when my aunts visited my Tita (grandmother) to chat over some cafe de olla and pan de yema from their pueblo.

Home to Tita and my aunts is Solaga, a pueblo located in the mountain peaks of Oaxaca, Mexico. When Tita was nineteen, she migrated to the United States to build a new life in Los Angeles with my grandfather, bringing only my 3-year-old mother, her native tongue, and a slither of Spanish.

Regardless of where Tita relocated, Zapoteco was always spoken around our house. Learning Zapoteco is not easy, but the language has created meaning, values, and practices that will forever be rooted in my identity. 

Migration for indigenous migrants like my Tita meant having to uproot from their ancestral lands for economic opportunity without knowing what to expect from an unknown country. And still, after they crossed borders, they faced discrimination and displacement, whether in Los Angeles or in Oaxaca. 

Tita has told me about her first memories of racism in Mexico City because she was a dark-skinned indigenous woman from a village who didn’t speak Spanish. In the U.S, racial slurs like “Oaxaquita” (little indigenous woman) or jokes about Oaxacan food were a common occurrence from other Mexican people, which made it difficult to find a safe space in Latinx communities since being indigenous was the one thing Tita couldn’t be. Discrimination against indigenous migrants existed everywhere, and there came a time when speaking Zapoteco stayed at home or away from public spaces. But like so many indigenous people have done in the past, migrants like my Tita brought their culture, language, and resilience ready to plant in new soil.

I am grateful to experience the fruits of their migration because of the access I have to connect to my ancestral inheritance through dance, food, music, medicine, and one day, language. I am also privileged to have the choice to migrate back to Solaga, Tita’s pueblo and get to know my family’s native lands at a personal level.

This past July, I went to Solaga for the first time in my life and it was an experience the little girl in me didn’t know she needed. I met more aunts and family, ate all the quesillo I wanted, and danced jarabes (traditional dance) all day, surrounded by clouds, mountains, and neighboring pueblos. But most importantly, I was finally able to meet Tita’s stomping grounds.

The river she would play in as a kid and the tree she planted above the pueblo’s graveyard was finally in front of me. I left Solaga feeling loved, cared for, and held by my community, unable to comprehend how painful it must have been for my family to have to separate from such a beautiful place.

Tita’s sacrifices are a reminder to advocate for a world where indigenous identity is not a target of exploitation and their communities feel liberated to honor their traditions and speak their languages in any space.  

My identity inspires me to tell stories that center humanity and address injustices on communities often silenced – and this is what I bring to work at Fenton every day. This passion of mine will forever be a tribute to being a product of indigenous survival. 

 

Whether you’re headed for the beach or planning on staying cool indoors, summer days are a great time for getting lost in a new book. Our colleagues are avid readers who love sharing book recommendations, from novels to collections of essays to memoirs. Check out some of the recommendations below from Fenton’s book club to add to your list. Happy reading!

 A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

“A Little Devil in America is a delicious tome that explores Blackness through the lens of art and performance. I picked up Hanif’s work at the top of 2022 and could not put it down. From the history of the Soul Train line to learning about a hilariously scandalous beef between James Brown and Joe Tex, Hanif takes the readers on a journey of what it means to be Black in America while creating, devouring and exploring artistry.”
– Shakirah Hill-Taylor, Chief Digital Officer

Either/Or by Elif Batuman

“About three years ago I read Elif Batuman’s debut novel, The Idiot and it left such an impression on me. I didn’t think anything could top it until the sequel was released earlier this summer! This series focuses on the protagonist Selin’s
undergraduate years at Harvard in the 90s as a first generation American. It tells a compelling coming-of-age story about navigating being a first generation American while also bringing the classic literature Selin reads into a modern context.
– Isabel Serrano, Account Executive 

The Candy House by Jennifer Egan 

“For those who enjoyed A Visit From the Goon Squad, for which Egan won the Pulitzer prize, you’ll recognize some of those characters in this thought provoking novel. She takes on how to be authentic when our culture is dominated by social media and the role of memory in our consciousness and relationships. This is very deep stuff brought to life with imaginative scenarios and truly relatable characters. A truly creative, challenging and unique story that reads like a vacation book but penetrates your conscience and leaves you thinking.”
– Jennifer Hahn, Managing Director

The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World  by Melinda Gates

“I read The Moment of Lift last summer and it really opened my eyes to the incredible domino effect that happens when you empower and uplift women around the world and how in turn, that strengthens families, communities, systems and economies. It’s informative and research-based, but it’s told through a storytelling lens, making it still captivating and inspirational!
– Nicole Levi, Account Coordinator 

Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

“Homegoing, Yaa Gyasi’s first novel, follows two separated half sisters in Ghana starting in the late 1700’s. One woman remains in Ghana, and one is kidnapped and sold into slavery by the British and lands in the American South. The book follows their lives and the lives and stories of their descendants, generation by generation up until the present day. Breathtaking, heartbreaking and so good! Looking forward to reading her next book, Transcendent Kingdom, next.”
– Alyssa Singer, Vice President

The Fifth Season by  N.K. Jemisin

“I just finished The Fifth Season and I am hooked! It’s an apocalyptic fantasy written by a Black woman with great world-building, a unique and engaging authorial voice, a broad range of representation for groups not often centered in adventure fantasy, and an engaging and thought-provoking plot. This book covers a lot of serious topics, handling them with respect and gravity while maintaining a sense of hope and capturing the resiliency of the human spirit.”
– Aileen Andres, Associate Vice President, Digital 

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

“The Poisonwood Bible is an epic novel exploring a white missionary’s family experiences in the Belgian Congo that’s on the verge of independence. A jewel of post-colonial literature, the book explores white supremacy on micro and macro-levels, the use of religion as weapon, and the role everyday people play in the rollout of larger historical narratives.”

– Valerie Jean-Charles, Associate Vice President

Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad 

“Between Two Kingdoms is a heart-wrenching story about what it means to truly live. Author Suleika Jaouad brings you on her journey through and beyond cancer. Centering the questions we all share such as: “who am I?,” ”how do I begin again?,” and “why am I here, now?” Jaouad’s memoir is as relatable as it is soul-enriching.”
-Lindsay Morgenstein, Digital Account Coordinator

Bevelations: Lessons from a Mutha, Auntie, Bestie by Bevy Smith 

“Bevy Smith is a fashion icon, TV personality and lowkey, an amazing self-help guru. Bevelations offers tidbits and tips for folks who are looking for something meatier than your traditional “how to make in America” style self-help book while also managing to be a dynamic portrayal of the ups and downs of following your dreams in the fashion and entertainment industries even when racism, misogynoir, classism and nepotism are against you. The book takes you on a journey from her beginnings in Harlem, NY through to her work as the fashion editor for VIBE magazine and RollingStone, to her current work as a TV and radio personality through her relationship with Andy Cohen. The best part is that Bevy narrates the audiobook herself and her thick, everlasting, Uptown accent is the perfect complement to her story.”
– Mia Logan, Vice President

My first memory of love is the smell of braised oxtail permeating our tiny Brooklyn apartment. Stewed oxtail with rice and peas was a delicacy reserved only for Sunday dinners hallmarked by special occasions.

Mom would spend hours in preparation: the chopping of onions, peeling of thyme, cracking of scotch bonnet pepper — brining the meat just so. I knew mom took pride in putting this particular dish together. When I made my way to the kitchen, having followed the trail of hearty fragrance, she would say in Patois, “Give it a likkle taste, Shakie.” And taste I would. “It good, don’t it?” She would ask, her accent getting thicker. Good it was. Better than good. The meat was always tender enough to fall off the bone. I would culminate each dining experience slurping up the gravy to the marrow.

Oxtail, curry chicken, and ackee and salt fish are just a few of the dishes that keep me connected to the homeland my naval string draws from — Jamaica, the land of the Tallawah. A little country but mighty in spirit.

In honor of Caribbean-American Heritage Month, a few of my colleagues and I are sharing recipes for dishes that remind us of home as a small tribute to who we are as island people. Come explore the Caribbean through food and memory.

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Patsy’s Jamaican Oxtail and Rice & Peas 

Shared by Shakirah Hill Taylor, chief digital officer and proud Jamaican-American

What you need:

• 2.5 lbs oxtails
• ¼ cup brown sugar or coconut sugar
• 1 Tablespoon soy sauce
• 1 Tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
• 1 Tablespoon salt
• 2 teaspoons garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 teaspoon all-spice
• 1 teaspoon browning
• 2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1 yellow onion chopped
• 4 green onions chopped
• 1 Tablespoon garlic chopped
• 2 whole carrots chopped
• 1 scotch bonnet or habanero pepper seeds and membrane removed and chopped
• 1 cup beef broth
• 1 Tablespoon ketchup
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 2 Tablespoons water
• 1 Tablespoon cornstarch
• 1 16 oz can Butter Beans drained

How to prepare:

1. Rinse oxtails with water and vinegar and pat dry. Cover oxtails with brown sugar, soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, salt, garlic powder, black pepper, all-spice, and browning and rub into oxtails. For added flavor season and marinade oxtails overnight.
2. Set Pressure Cooker on High Sauté and once hot, add vegetable oil. Next, add your larger oxtail pieces to the pot, flat side down about ¼ inch apart, and brown on each side.Remove oxtail after browning and place in bowl.
3. Deglaze your pressure cooker by adding about 2 Tbsp of beef broth to the insert. Take a wooden spoon and deglaze your pot by removing the brown bits at the bottom. Then add your yellow onions, green onions, carrots, garlic, and scotch bonnet pepper. Stir and sauté for about 5 minutes or until the onions have softened.
4. Add dried thyme, oxtails, remaining beef broth, and ketchup to the pressure cooker insert.Press “Cancel” on your Instant Pot. Cover and cook on high pressure for 45 minutes. Once timer is done, allow pressure cooker to naturally release.
5. Once all pressure has released, open lid and remove oxtails and vegetables, leaving liquid behind. Turn Pressure Cooker on sauté. Once liquid begins to simmer, create a corn starch slurry by combining corn starch and water to a separate bowl. Stir into simmering liquid. Add drained butter beans into pressure cooker and allow to simmer for about 5 minutes, until liquid is slightly thickened and butterbeans are warmed.
6. Add oxtails and vegetables back to the pressure cooker. Serve and enjoy

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Sauteed Chickpeas (Boil & Fry Chana) 

Shared by Holly Sookhai, administrative assistant and proud Guyanese-American

 

You might know them as chickpeas or garbanzo beans. Served tossed in a salad, simmered in a soup, or as a base for hummus. But, as a Guyanese American, you are born knowing this protein-packed goodness as “Chana.”

In Guyana, we have a heavy influence on Indian foods. This is because, in the 19th century, the British Empire needed people to work on plantation fields in the Caribbean. So, they brought a workforce from India under a system called indentureship. As a result, my ancestors brought their culture and food to Guyana along with their families. However, they couldn’t always get their hands on the exact ingredients they had in India, so many of their daily recipes were improvised. 

I’m sharing my recipe for Sauteed Chana, or as Guyanese people say, “Boil and Fry Chana” The “boil” in the name originates from the natives once using dried chickpeas that were soaked in water and then boiled to cook. My recipe works great using canned chickpeas, making this appetizing dish easy and quick to make. I promise you’ll be out of the kitchen in 15 minutes or less. It’s also the perfect anytime meal. 

Growing up, I’d eat chana for breakfast, along with a boiled egg. Then, during the start of the pandemic in 2020, it was my go-to midnight snack. Now that I have a baby starting solids and has a palate for flavor, I’ll smash up pieces of chana and serve them to him for dinner. As a bonus, this dish makes an excellent vegetarian meal on days when I choose not to eat meat. Love spicy food, or not? Sauteed Chana is customizable to your heat tolerance.

Ingredients & Measurements for Sauteed Chana: (Serving Size 1 or 2)

• 1 15 oz can chickpeas (washed and drained — works with any brand)
• 2 tbsp vegetable oil
• ½ of green chili (add a whole one for extra spice or omit for a non-spicy version)
  
• 1 plum tomato chopped
• 1 small onion chopped
•  ½ tsp chopped garlic
• ½ tsp Paprika
•   ½ tsp ground cumin powder
•  ¼ tsp black pepper to taste
•  Salt to taste
• A few chopped fresh scallions for garnish

DIRECTIONS:

1. Heat a pan with 2 tbsp vegetable oil. 
2. Add tomatoes, onion, and green chili. Cook for about 3 minutes and add the garlic.
3. Cook for 2 minutes, then add chickpeas, paprika, black pepper, salt, and cumin. 
4. Stir to combine and let cook for about 6 minutes. 
5. Toss in green onions & cook for another final minute. Serve hot and enjoy!

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Grann’s History Lesson in a Bowl 

Shared by Valerie Jean-Charles, associate vice president and proud Haitian-American

“Bon kisa m pou m fè kite pou ou?” 

(So, what should I prepare for you?)

This was usually the question my grandmother would ask me before I’d pay her a visit. It was our routine, our go-to. She was asking what dishes to prepare already knowing my answer — a nice, big pot of tchaka. 

Haitian cuisine is one of the richest and diverse in the world, and there’s no better representation of that then tchaka, a hearty and soul-warming meal of beans, pumpkin, dried corn, and salted meat flavored with èpis (a blended mix of green herbs and seasonings). 

While, so many non-Haitians can now — thanks to the beautiful renaissance Haitian cuisine is experiencing on the international stage — easily identify cultural foods like soup joumou (independence day soup) or diri a djon djon (rice cooked with black mushrooms), it is tchaka that stands out to me as a true representation of Haitian identity, mixing within it both West African flavors and Indigenous Taino staples—a story of tragedy, camaraderie and triumph in one meal. 

It’s been years since I’ve tasted my grandmother’s tchaka. An ocean now separates us and, as she currently sits in the twilight of her life, I am overcome with a great deal of gratitude for her. Not just for the meals she cooked, but also for the cultural love and reverence she instilled in me. I am grateful to her for teaching me that cooking isn’t just about eating; it’s also about preserving your heritage and honoring your ancestors. 

Now, I will warn you that Haitian dishes can be quite complex and time intensive. So, to assist you with the preparation of this dish, I’ll link to two of my favorite YouTube instructional videos for the meal here and here. 

Please ensure you have ample time to cook this. It’s a day’s worth of work, but oh so worth it in the end. 

Happy eating and mèsi grann! 

Ayibobo! 

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Fish Broth 

Shared by Mia Logan, vice president and proud Trinidadian-America

Roughly three weeks before the start of the COVD-19 pandemic reached the DMV area, my stepfather lost his decade-long battle with prostate cancer. His death created a void in my mom’s household for several obvious reasons, but one of the places that it was most acutely felt was the loss of his culinary specialties, especially his fish broth recipes. 

Fish broth is not necessarily indigenous to Trini culture as many different islands across the Caribbean have their own variation of fish soup or fish brof as it’s sometimes called. What makes this particular dish special to me is that I associate it with good times and recovery. When my mom and I first moved to Maryland, our neighborhood was mostly American, with two Trinidadian families on our street, one Grenadian family and an older Guyanese gentleman. By the time my stepfather moved in, all of these families on our street had come together to host block parties, cooler fetes, backyard functions and traditional cookouts almost weekly throughout the warmer months. 

These parties would go on for hours, often starting in the afternoon or early evening and seemingly never-ending. It was not uncommon to see the older folks on my small suburban street hanging out and jamming to soca, dancehall, r&b and even early 2000’s hip hop until four in the morning. And one thing that was consistent, no matter how late we all hung out, no matter how hard they partied, my military parents would be up the next day, fussing at me to help clean, run errands and watch sports. I used to marvel at how they could do it, as even my teenager self couldn’t keep up despite having attended several of these parties since childhood. Whenever I asked them how they managed to be up and about, my stepfather would simply say “get you some fish soup”. 

For twenty years that fish soup was a fixture in my life. Have a cold? Drink some fish soup. Headache? You need some fish soup. Partied too hard for your 21st birthday? “Get you some fish soup”. 

While no one could’ve predicted the impact that the COVID-19 pandemic would have on our lives, every time I would get the sniffles, allergies, or any other anxiety-inducing symptom that I was sure was COVID-19 would bring about a wave of grief knowing that there would be no fish soup. 

Recipe below:

• 2 lbs of whole snapper (king fish also allowed) 
• Lime 
• 12 cups of water or 9 cups of seafood stock 
• 2 potatoes, peeled and quartered
• 2 yams peeled and quartered (sweet potatoes also allowed) 
• 2-3 figs (green bananas) peeled and quartered 
• 2 sliced carrots
• .5 lbs okras with stems removed
• 1 lb of chopped cassava 
• 3 eddoes 
• 1 white onion, peeled and sliced
• 2 stalks of celery
• 1 ripe tomato 
• 2 pimento peppers
• 1 scotch bonnet 
• Use a little bit of thyme (to taste basically) 
• Heavy black pepper, salt to test 

Add dumplings 

Green sauce: 

• 8 bandanya leaves
• 4 scallions 
• 5 garlic cloves 

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Trini Doubles

Shared by Adia Adoo, account coordinator and proud Trinidadian-American

Growing up, I had the privilege of visiting Trinidad and Tobago frequently. I have memories of spending multiple summers at my grandparents’ house, the same one my mom and her sisters grew up in Diamond Vale. My little sister and I would attend the same summer camp my mom once attended when she was growing up in Trinidad. After spending hours at the pool, my sister and I would visit a summer camp booth selling classic Trinidadian street foods, including my favorites: doubles and pholourie. 

During my recent trips to Trinidad and Tobago, my family and I would take long walks on the Queen’s Park Savannah in Port of Spain. The Queen’s Park Savannah is one of the biggest roundabouts in the world, with large fields that serve as the main stage for Carnival every year. Street vendors line the area selling all types of street foods, but there will always be a line in front of vendors selling doubles, especially on weekend mornings.

Doubles is a dish consisting of two pieces of flat fried dough with curried chickpeas on top served with chutney, and pholourie consists of fried balls made up of spiced split peas and flour served with chutney or a pepper sauces. As far as chutneys go, my favorites are mango and tamarind chutney because I find that they add a wonderful sweetness to each dish.

Here are great youtube tutorials on how to make each dish:

How To Make Trini Doubles

How To Make Trini Pholourie

As a first-generation American, I always felt the pressure to assimilate into the culture of my peers, but as I got older, I realized that giving into that pressure was a massive disservice to myself. I never fully appreciated the beauty of having Caribbean heritage until I was a teenager. Since my grandfather died five years ago, my family and I visit Trinidad and Tobago every year for Christmas to spend it with my grandmother and my aunt’s family. Every time I go back, my appreciation for Trinidad and Tobago deepens. It has a beautiful landscape with incredible mountains as a constant backdrop, with a culture based around friends, community, food and fun, and I can’t wait to return in a few months!

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Sweet, Sweet T&T: Callaloo and Calypso

Shared by Gibran Caroline Boyce, account executive and proud Trinidadian-American

Caribbean parents notoriously don’t believe in writing down recipes, or even using measuring tools while cooking for that matter. Both of my parents immigrated to the United States from Trinidad and Tobago, and we have grown up eating amazing foods, with every dish passed down through generations, a seeming mixture of science and art, and us kids learning through watching our parents go through the motions over and over again. My Dad’s curry shrimp with potatoes and chickpeas are a family hit, especially when he makes the roti sides to go with it called “Buss up Shut,” that is akin to beaten torn-up pita bread. However, I continue to love the taste of one special recipe that my Mom makes.

Callaloo is a delectable Trinidadian dish (other Caribbean countries make it as well but each with their own changes to the ingredients), that seems so complex despite the fact that it has very few ingredients — spinach, okra, coconut milk, crab, and hot peppers. This Callaloo recipe is one such family ritual that has endeared over the years without a recipe. Relocation to America has meant the base dish being made from easily accessible spinach, rather than “callaloo bush” that is local in the Caribbean. Their similarity is that they are both rich-green leafy plants that are probably chuck-filled with iron, and parents learned to cloak it in this amazing dish loved by kids who might never eat it if just steamed.

This recipe was vetted and approved by mom herself, as the instructions are best with the videos that are now available online from local chefs. To make your meal extra special, we use king crab claws and legs that provide plenty of meat and decadence, though the local custom is to use “blue crabs” — a particularly small crustacean that is also difficult to source in the U.S. My most special childhood memories that weren’t tied to their wide-ranging tasty foods, revolve around singing and dancing to Calypso music, driving hours to attend Caribana (Caribbean style Carnival in Toronto), and picking up Trini slang and jokes over the years. As a first-generation American, I am eternally grateful for the life my parents have given me in America. But I am equally proud and appreciative of them for raising my siblings and me to be proudly Trini 2 De Bone.

In honor of National Immigrant Heritage Month, Fenton Chief Campaigns Officer Erik Olvera shares his family’s immigration journey. 

We used to wait every afternoon to watch my grandfather, who we called Papi, emerge from Central California’s fields.

His arms were thick. Hands calloused. Face always tired. Decades as a farmworker picking fruit and vegetables for other people to eat does that to a person.

Papi didn’t have more than an eighth-grade education, but he had the ambition to end the cycle of poverty that had wrapped itself around him his whole life and the grit to alter the future for his kids, grandkids and great-grandkids.

He and my grandmother, who we called Mamá Lena, were raised in a small village outside Monterrey, Nuevo León, which is located near Northern Mexico, roughly 170 miles southwest of the Texas border.

The way Mamá Lena used to tell the story, my grandfather was very poor, but she didn’t let that stop her from falling in love with him, even if her father — who was a combination of village mayor, judge and sheriff — stood against their relationship, especially after they announced they wanted to get married.

They were in love, something that endured throughout their life, even as they lived tiny, rented old houses with leaky roofs, spent Christmases with few gifts, struggled to put food on their table and followed the seasons across the United States as migrant farmworkers.

My father was their first child to arrive in the 1940s. Six other children would follow. But my grandparents would bury two of them — a boy and a girl — who died of diphtheria before they were old enough to learn the alphabet or how to count.

My dad used to share stories with my brother, sister and me about how his siblings spent their childhood helping their parents pick cotton in Alabama, peaches in Georgia, apples in Washington.

They eventually settled in Central California, where I was raised and where they continued working in the fields and getting paid no more than a few dollars an hour throughout their lives, scraping by paycheck to paycheck.

 

Fenton Chief Campaigns Officer Erik Olvera with his grandfather in 1978.

As a kid, I remember Papi, dad and my uncles leaving well before sunrise every morning to go into the fields, while my siblings, cousins and I would escape into art, books, math and writing while waiting for them to return.

My brother was the mechanical one. My sister was the booky one. And I was the creative one, who they encouraged to write and tell stories, knowing that tapping into what I was drawn to would be my path out of the only type of life they had known.

I was far too young to know the meaning of “sacrifice” or that my opportunities would be built on the backs of my grandparents, who never owned their own home or saw an end to their poverty in their lifetime.

What I remember is them instilling in me, my siblings and cousins the values of working hard and believing big, especially when others doubted that the descendants of poor immigrants could ever be successful.

It’s because of my grandparents that I started my communications career nearly three decades ago as an immigrant rights journalist, even going undercover as a farmworker for six months in the same California region where they spent season after season. 

Because of them, their descendants include a healthcare professional at a leading hospital, a marketing expert for a major retail chain, a Silicon Valley data scientist, a University of California, Berkeley lecturer and me, a communications executive at Fenton.

I often wonder if my grandparents, who passed away decades ago, would be proud of us and the lives they helped build by crossing over from Mexico.

I’ll never truly know for sure, but one thing is certain: my grandparents’ drive pushes me every day.

And for that, I will always be grateful.

In honor of Jewish American Heritage Month, Associate Vice President Susannah Rosenblatt wrote about what Judaism means to her family and how she is passing down traditions to her two sons.

I am the child of an interfaith marriage. My dad’s family is Jewish, from the Bronx by way of Romania and Yonkers. Growing up, the kids played stickball in the street and he and my uncle saved a jar of dirt from the old Polo Grounds baseball stadium where the New York Giants played. My mother’s family was Methodist, from the farms and factories of the Carolinas, where they went to church every Sunday and grew tomatoes in the summertime.

In my family, two cultures meant a smorgasbord of family rituals — lighting the menorah for Hanukkah and traveling to Nana’s house for Santa Claus to find us on Christmas morning. My parents never pressured me to choose a faith tradition. As a result, I’m a little bit of everything, observing the unique combination of holidays that were meaningful to my family. And my husband grew up interfaith like me, and finds comfort in the Hebrew prayers he sang when he was small.

Now, as a mom to two boys, I create the meaning and magic of custom and belief. I want my sons to recognize and be proud of the generations who came before.

I never went to Hebrew school, never had a bat mitzvah. I studied biblical Hebrew in college to try to fill in the gaps. I’ve always been drawn to stories of the Holocaust, and traveled to the chilling spot at Auschwitz where the train tracks simply stop — the end of the line.

I want my children to understand they are part Jewish, to know the music of ancient words and ideas, to be proud of ancestors who persevered in the face of persecution, to fight against hate. Yet as a largely secular person, I don’t want this teaching to feel forced or fake.

PJ Library offered the perfect opportunity to cultivate an important cultural connection in my toddler and second grader. Free, Jewish-themed age-appropriate kids books arrive every month. My older son has learned a Yiddish word or two and explored the Passover story leading up to our family seder. My younger son chews on colorful board books illustrated with cheerful forest animals baking hamantaschen for Purim. They’re learning, in their own way as we snuggle at bedtime, what it means to be Jewish. I’m learning right beside them.

One discovery: There’s no right way to be Jewish. What I am certain of is the Jewish values —the human values, really —I hope to instill in their hearts. A love of learning, curiosity and inquiry; a desire for justice, or tikkun olam in Hebrew, to heal the world. Open-mindedness and respect for the worth and dignity of all; gratitude and practicing peace.

Those are the values I work toward at Fenton, and endeavor to embody every day. Together, one page at a time, my boys and I are growing together. For that precious gift, I offer the Hebrew word for thank you that I conveniently picked up from my two-year-old’s board book of the same name: todah.