I was in my mid-thirty’s when I was introduced to leadership in the National Organization of Minority Architects. I was mentored by some of the most historic and accomplished design professionals this nation has known, though many lived in anonymity to the world that ignored their talents and genius. Though the world refused to see them, they made it clear that they saw me, and in me they saw something of value. Because of their trust and guidance, and with their unwavering support, I served seven years in national leadership, including two as the national President, before I turned 40. My successor was younger than me. I believe that my youthful energy and vision served the organization well.
As President-elect, I have two primary responsibilities. The first is to continue chairing the Justice, Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (J.E.D.I.) committee, espousing the values of our profession: to ensure that we work to achieve social, political, racial, and economic justice in our communities, across our Commonwealth, and throughout our nation.
The second, even more important responsibility, is to chair the Nominating Committee. Like the elders of NOMA, I believe my responsibility is to identify and mentor new bold younger members to take the mantle of leadership and build AIAVA into an even more vibrant and enduring source of good for our profession and our nation. I need you.
Today, I am much older, slightly wiser, but certainly less energetic. Though my eyes are not as strong, I still have a vision. I see the AIA as an organization of great potential for impacting our profession and our communities. But my vision is not of my accomplishments or dreams; it is a vision of you taking command, exerting leadership, and molding the Institute into a more dynamic, engaged, and relevant organization with an agenda that impacts the social, political, and cultural climate of our nation, our Commonwealth and your communities. My goal is to set the table for you to come and sit, dine and discuss how we make the AIA, AIA Virginia, and our components do the good that is important to you and your future. I need your input. I need your ideas. I need your leadership. I need your voices, your hands, and your heart. I need your commitment.
With this email, I am inviting you to share your vision for AIA Virginia. Whatever you see the AIA becoming, whatever causes you think we should champion, whatever path you believe we should take, please let me know. More importantly, tell me what you are willing to do to make it happen. If AIA Virginia is to survive and thrive. it will be because of your engagement and your leadership. Like the heroes of my past, I trust you to take this beyond the limits of our imagination. You are trained in creative thinking, rooted in the technology of hope. Let’s plan our future, your future, for AIA Virginia.
Robert L. Easter, NOMAC, FAIA Chair, Department of Architecture School of Engineering & Technology Hampton University Hampton, Virginia 23668 Robert.Easter@Hamptonu.edu (757) 727-5440 (office) (804) 307-6836 (cell)
An Open Memo to My Colleagues in the Community of Architecture
A cellular company once popularized the commercial phrase, “can you hear me, now?” For years, there has been a credible, audible but unheard plea from the depths of the soul of a segment of the American family that there is an injustice that has been perpetual and persistent. America has not listened because it only impacted a small number of our family members. Occasionally there was an uprising when tensions from the injustice rose to a boil, but they were quickly squashed.
In the struggle for equity, diversity, and inclusion, we must understand that the powerless will never be in a position to make real substantive change. Our American family, and my Architecture family, has a real problem with racism; it is an evil and ugly virus that has plagued our nation for 401 years.
Our nation was built on many principles, most of them laudable and admirable. But one undeniable fact is that America’s prosperity has been borne and continues to thrive on the idea that some lives are not valued as much as others. It is why Black men, women, boys, and girls can be brutalized and murdered with impunity, whether or not they present a threat to those who are better armed and better trained to address injustice or challenges to authority, whichever they chose to hear. Racism is real and unrelenting; unfortunately, those who are victimized by this insidious disease are not the ones infected by it. It is a family disease and its morbidity uncommonly impacts one segment of our family. It is in our genes, running unrestrained through our national DNA with no scientist seeking cures or treatments because those with power have the disease and those with the disease not understanding how they could ever suffer from it… until there is unrest.
Today, we are at another boiling point. Tempers are heightened, and the cry for justice is overwhelming. And America, our family, is watching with anxiety and concern. We deplore the violence; we are shocked at the level of unrestrained looting and destruction; we want something to be done to make things safe in our cities like we had become accustomed to. Our world is already reeling with COVID-19 and our businesses are suffering; this unrest is not going to help!
So, where do we go from here? I suggest that there are three priorities that must be embraced by our professional community: the architecture family. The first is the simple reality that one of the primary reasons that so few African Americans practice architecture is racism. That is a hard first step, but let’s examine racism by its definition. It is the active or inactive effort employed by a dominant race to exert its position of power over another race to subjugate or control the opportunities that the latter can participate in. It is using race as the marker to disenfranchise another race. It is not always done consciously and may even be unintentional. Race is the result of bias and bigotry. We are not all bigots, but we all have biases.
Overcoming racism requires that we acknowledge and confess our biases and explore how those biases may have adversely affected an entire segment of our community family. Much of the positive discussion in our profession was generated by a growing and prosperous economy that afforded the privileged the opportunity to be generous. But fighting racism isn’t how you respond in good time; it is what you do in the moments of heat, confusion, anxiety, and fear. It is how you respond when your commissions are in limbo and your profits are at risk.
Secondly, if we can identify those conscience and unconscious actions, we must make a determined, thoughtful, and committed effort to undo both the actions and their impacts. Our efforts must be intentional and embedded in the culture of our workplaces. Diversity, inclusion, and equity can’t be buzzwords. Empty rhetoric and pious platitudes created the chaos and unrest that we see on our streets. Those of our family who sit in more privileged seats at the table (meaning that those who are able to influence the political, social, and economic structures) must acknowledge that they have a responsibility to be advocates for immediate and substantive change. That change must be in policy and practice. We must be willing to hear the voices of the marginalized and victimized, but not just hear them, we must listen with open hearts, open minds, and open wallets. Change is never free, and it costs more than change.
We must demand that our Human Resource professionals embrace a sense of educational and cultural preparedness. We must train our staff to recognize and root out bigotry in the workplace, in all of its forms. They must employ measures to address the systemic concerns of their African American employees. Many of the large firms in our family are located in large metropolitan areas where the daily ritual of life can be a torment. As employees are relocating to our city, we must let them know that there is a network that they can depend on and go to for relief, support and backup when they are confronted with the adversities of being Black in America. Our place of business must be a safe haven, not a sweatshop; for young men and women who, right now, can’t always discern ally or enemy, friend or foe.
Finally, we must make it clear that we will always be advocates for justice, no matter how it impacts our bottom lines. We have to pick up our signs and march. We have to register and vote. We have to make our political contributions count; those who receive our support and must know that how they legislate will determine how we give. Justice isn’t black or white, it isn’t liberal or conservative, it isn’t even left… it is only right. Most architects are influential and respected members of the communities where we live and practice. We have to capitalize on our community status for the wellbeing of our family. We must make sure that the journey from home to work and back home is safe, and that there are no communities that our family members aren’t allowed to call home or journey to, without being harassed, targeted, or treated with suspicion.
Well, family, what are the streets telling you? What message do you hear from the broken glass and looted shelves? What are the ashes of burned-out buildings screaming to you? Are those shattered businesses telling you that they need protection? Are they suggesting that they need armed and militarized aid to keep them secure? What do the thrown bottles and bricks say to you about the struggle they are experiencing when flung through the air by mindlessness? Are they asking for our elected leaders and their agents to get tougher on the perpetrators?
That is what most of our family members hear. We continue to be deaf to the voices of those whose lives were terminated by injustice. We don’t hear the voices of the young marginalized men who feel We want justice; but, for who? Martin L. King, Jr. once said in a speech denouncing rioting, that “riots are the cries of the unheard.” And those who have been crying out for days, years, months… even centuries that have landed on deaf ears, want to know, simply, can you hear me, now?
I have a 27-year-old son who recently moved to Los Angeles. From his ancestors, he inherited a brilliant mind. From his mother, he inherited good looks and compassion. From me, he inherited a sharp tongue and brown skin. I pray every day that I did not confer upon him a death sentence. He has an occasion to speak his mind to people he has no influence over. Wherever he has lived in the past, be it his birthplace of Richmond, VA, or Boston, MA, where he received a stellar education, he has been confronted by those sworn to protect and defend him and treated like he doesn’t belong.
Many of my American family members don’t know that fear of wondering where your child is every evening or is he still alive each morning. They don’t understand how a young man graduating from a prestigious school with a 3.6 GPA, can be a threat to anyone. I can’t afford to be patient, because of my son’s life, and the lives of the students I teach to be of value to our profession, hang in the balance. My son needs you to be his advocate because his father is totally powerless to ensuring that he is heard, respected, and valued. My son needs to know that when he and his peers speak, you can hear him.
Robert L. Easter, AIA, NOMA, assumed the role as chair of the Department of Architecture at Hampton University in September 2008. He has overseen the reaccreditation effort of the professional program, securing a six-year affirmation of the program’s standing with the National Architectural Accrediting Board. Professionally, he is President of KEi architects (formerly Kelso & Easter, Incorporated) in Richmond, Virginia. A graduate (Bachelor of Architecture) of Hampton University, he also holds a Master of Architecture degree in Architecture / Urban Design from Virginia Polytechnic Institute & State University. He is an ordained minister and has done extensive graduate studies at the Divinity School at Howard University. His initial registration is in the state of Maryland, and he is licensed to practice architecture in Virginia and the District of Columbia. He holds certification with the National Council of Architectural Registration Boards (NCARB) and his firm holds active registrations in twelve states and Quebec, Canada. He began practicing architecture in 1977 in Baltimore, Maryland where he served as a Project Architect and designer for Ford & Associates, Inc. He also worked with the New River Valley Planning District Commission as a staff Architect and taught Architectural Technology for the Northern Virginia Community College. Following a four-year tour of duty in the US Army Corps of Engineers, he founded the Easter Design Center, later merging with John Kelso to form Kelso & Easter, Architects serving the Washington, DC metropolitan area. They were incorporated in 1985 and opened an office in Richmond, Virginia in 1987. In 2001, Mr. Kelso retired, and the entire operation was consolidated to the Richmond office.
Mr. Easter is active in community, civic and professional activities. He has twice served as a Director for the Virginia Society of the American Institute of Architects and is now the chair of the City of Richmond Board of Code Appeals and a board member of the Metropolitan Business League. His other civic involvements have included: board member Richmond Metropolitan Convention & Visitors Bureau for the City of Richmond, Board member of the Virginia Chamber of Commerce and Board chair of the and is a member of the Virginia Minority Supplier Development Council. He has served as a board member for the Commonwealth Girl Scout Council of Virginia, Freedom House, Social Center for Psychiatric Rehabilitation; Member, Woodley-Nightingale Land-use Task Force, Fairfax County; Member (and former Chair), Architectural Alumni Committee, Hampton University; Board of Directors, Richmond Opportunities Industrialization Center, Richmond, VA; the Board of Directors, Greater Metropolitan Richmond Literacy Council, and as a member of the Northern Virginia Minority Business & Professional Association.
In 1992 he was elected as the fifteenth president of the National Organization of Minority Architects and has been a vigorous advocate for increased minority participation in the public and private sector building industry. During his tenure, NOMA worked to increase opportunities for its members throughout the nation. International engagements included a tour to South Africa where he served on a mission to bridge relationships between black and white architects and assisted in the formation of the Association of Black Architects in that nation, a sister organization to NOMA, during the transition from apartheid to democratic rule. His work, both civic and professional has been recognized in local and national print media, including NOMANews, the New York Times, Metropolitan Magazine, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, the Richmond Free Press, Progressive Architecture Magazine and Inform Magazine.
Where did you go to college? I attended Hampton University for undergraduate work and Virginia Tech for graduate school.
Would you recommend studying architecture to a young person? Absolutely. As an educator and practitioner, I believe that the work we do makes a difference
What does it take to be an architect? Passion, creativity, determination and opportunity.
Was there an architect that particularly inspired you? I only knew two architects before attending school: John Spencer, FAIA, who was the dean of Architecture at Hampton University (and a friend of our family), and Bert Berenson, who was Mr. Spencer’s predecessor (whom my mother worked for). Since beginning my career, I am inspired by a number of great architects, including John Chase, Wendell Campbell, and John Kelso. Stylistically, my favorite was the Japanese American design icon, Minoru Yamasaki.
What are you currently reading? I am reading Slaves in the Family, by Edward Ball.
What’s the best meal you’ve ever had? The next one. Every meal is good. I love food.
Why do you volunteer with the AIA? It is an opportunity to serve our profession and to share a perspective that is not always considered. It is an opportunity to make a connection between the profession and students who need to know that our profession welcomes them.