![\"Rev.](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0044.jpg\")
In the late spring he spoke at protests. In the summer he watched as looting and fires damaged the neighborhood he\u2019s trying to rebuild. The Family Dollar store down the block burned, which further parched the food desert of West Garfield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The pandemic made it harder to connect as much as he wanted with the young men of color in the job and life-skills training project he co-founded and runs, the MAAFA Redemption Project. (\u201cmaafa\u201d is a Kiswahili word meaning \u201ca great disaster or terrible occurrence.\u201d It describes the transatlantic African slave trade and all that it wrought.) These are young men, some with criminal records, all at risk, finding their feet again or for the first time, who need connection and touch, for whom social distancing might feel like yet another alienation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the pandemic tightened its grasp on Americans of color, the MAAFA group, 33 strong in its fourth group of trainees, met in masks, in smaller groups, and outside, learning practical skills, from financial planning to the building trades.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In between, Hatch went for bike rides when he could, listening to an audiobook, David W. Blight\u2019s fat, Pulitzer Prize\u2013winning biography Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom <\/em>as he pedaled, thinking about the way Reconstruction was thwarted, how the South turned to Jim Crow laws to enforce its systemic racism, as his ancestors fled to the North. \u201cIt went back into an anti-democratic republic,\u201d he says. \u201cThat\u2019s the principle that I\u2019ve kind of been mulling over lately: Maybe progress is not what you gain. Progress is simply what you keep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But in contrast to the bad news, 2020 has also brought Hatch personal and professional highs: a baby daughter at home; the empowering discovery of an ancestor who fought for the Union in the Civil War; and the intervention of a benefactor so famous she is known by only one name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In April, after Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot spoke publicly about the disproportionate impact COVID-19 was having on communities of color, and news media covered the community\u2019s heartbreak over the loss of Rhoda Hatch, Oprah Winfrey asked to meet Hatch and his father, the Rev. Dr. Marshall E. Hatch Sr.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Although he is as level-headed as a human could be, Marshall Hatch Jr. does admit to having been nervous about talking to Oprah, even over Zoom. \u201cI didn\u2019t want to fumble over my words.\u201d In the end it was, he says, like talking to a family member. \u201cShe is just so personable. You have to love her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Winfrey subsequently announced a $5 million gift to establish Live Healthy United, a community-based initiative directed at providing food, contact tracing, personal protective equipment, and wellness checks to Black and Latinx communities. The MAAFA Redemption Project is one of five Chicago groups working under that umbrella.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s almost like, unwittingly, I\u2019ve been preparing myself for moments like this, if that makes sense.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Twice a month this summer, Hatch oversaw food giveaways in the parking lot of the church, boxes stuffed with fresh vegetables and fruit as well as dry goods, with hundreds more boxes delivered to homebound seniors nearby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With Winfrey\u2019s philanthropy, that work can go on for two more years. \u201cThe pandemic isn\u2019t going anywhere,\u201d Hatch says. This is seed money. More will be needed. \u201cShe said just as much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hatch speaks in soft, warm tones, sitting in the dark of his father\u2019s church, talking into a laptop with a quiet grace that all but lifts the veil of Zoom\u2019s technological separation. Sometimes he looks up at the stained glass windows of New Mount Pilgrim when he talks, when he\u2019s thinking (he\u2019s always thinking). <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is really a part of the legacy of what it means to be Black, what it means to be on the West Side of Chicago in a forgotten neighborhood. I mean, it\u2019s just, it\u2019s almost what we\u2019ve been created or designed to do,\u201d he says. \u201cTo resist and to inspire and to build. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s almost like, unwittingly, I\u2019ve been preparing myself for moments like this, if that makes sense.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n For those who knew him at Bates, what Marshall Hatch is doing today makes complete sense. Charles Nero met him as a first-year in his \u201cIntroduction to African American Studies\u201d course, which Nero and his husband Baltasar Fra-Molinero were co-teaching. \u201cWe were very impressed,\u201d Nero said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then Hatch showed up in Nero\u2019s course \u201cWhite Redemption: Cinema and the Co-optation of African American History.\u201d Nero remembers showing the students the 1998 movie Bullworth<\/em>, in which Warren Beatty plays a cynical politician whose career is revitalized when he starts rapping and imitating Black people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Charles Nero points to an expression from the playwright Lorraine Hansberry: \u201cCommitted amid complexity.\u201d And, he says, \u201cThat is Marshall.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe movie ends with him proclaiming his authenticity, and right after that he is shot,\u201d Nero says. After the screening, Nero asked his students, \u201cDo you recognize this moment?\u201d The class was stumped. Not Hatch. \u201cHe says, \u2018That\u2019s a reenactment of the assassination of Martin Luther King,\u2019\u201d Nero remembers. \u201cI said, \u2018Exactly,\u2019 and the class \u2014 everybody looked at Marshall.\u201d He laughs at the memory. \u201cMarshall is brilliant and in \u2018White Redemption\u2019 it was just simply confirmed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nero places Hatch in the tradition of Paul Robeson, the musician, actor, and activist from the first half of the 20th century. \u201cThe scholar, the athlete, the activist,\u201d Nero says. \u201cYou can\u2019t position one above the other. He is all of them simultaneously. He does all of them well. He is a model of a term we like to toss around: intersectionality.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nero points to an expression from the playwright Lorraine Hansberry: \u201cCommitted amid complexity.\u201d And, he says, \u201cThat is Marshall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n At Bates that complexity included his commitment to intellectual pursuits, far from home, while also being a varsity athlete. But the complexity also included an unwelcome surprise: feeling out of place in the college that had educated Benjamin Elijah Mays, Class of 1920, whose legacy had drawn Hatch and his father \u2014 both of whom have the middle name \u201cElijah\u201d \u2014 toward Bates. And as a Gates Millennium Scholar, he\u2019d had many other options, including a Historically Black College.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy freshman year I was a distinct minority, and I felt it,\u201d Hatch says. At the time, the percentage of U.S. underrepresented minorities at Bates was less than 10 percent (it\u2019s now 25 percent). One of the handful of Black students in his class was Anthony Phillips. The two met in Nero\u2019s African American studies course and became fast friends, spending late nights listening to Coltrane and Donny Hathaway, \u201call the while talking about what we are going to do when we leave Bates to improve our neighborhoods,\u201d Phillips says. Borrowing a van from Dean James Reese so they could drive to the church Hatch had found 20 minutes away, with stops at Denny\u2019s in Auburn. Phillips dropping by Hatch\u2019s room to talk about a girl and finding his friend watching the 10 o\u2019clock news, or reading. \u201cAlways reading.\u201d Holed up in Pettengill, working on papers that were due in the morning, even when bed was calling to Phillips. \u201cDoc, sleep is the cousin of death,\u201d Hatch would tell him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But first, Hatch had to be persuaded to stay at Bates, and Phillips tried. \u201cHe was ready to go,\u201d Phillips remembers. \u201cIt was disappointing to him to see the lack of diversity.\u201d In the end it was Hatch who persuaded himself to stay. He\u2019d picked up Born to Rebel<\/em>, Mays\u2019 1971 autobiography. He read the much-quoted sentence: \u201cBates College did not \u2018emancipate\u2019 me; it did the far greater service of making it possible for me to emancipate myself and to accept with dignity my own worth as a free man.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI internalized those words,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cIt was the words of Ben Mays that allowed me to remain hopeful.\u201d He joined in as other Bates students began organizing to protest the lack of diversity. Soon Hatch was urging Phillips to join him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Phillips had come to Bates from Philadelphia, where he had been one of just seven Black students at LaSalle College High School, an elite Catholic preparatory school. He\u2019d been on diversity and inclusivity committees there. He told his friend he\u2019d done this work already, that he was \u201creally trying to create a new life\u201d for himself at Bates.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But Hatch said to his friend, \u201cThere is no better time to do right than now. We have to do something. Our school needs us.\u201d Phillips, now the executive director of Youth Action, a Philadelphia-based nonprofit that builds youth leadership through civic engagement and service, remembers Hatch as a galvanizing presence in the effort, always avoiding being a focal point but still managing to be a fulcrum.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That was how it was on the basketball court as well. In those early days at Bates, Hatch headed over to Alumni Gym to work out his stresses, often with Jon Dowdy \u201909, a childhood friend from Chicago who had encouraged him to come to Bates. \u201cIt was a sanctuary,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cI was a gym rat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Declining the word \u201cstar,\u201d Hatch says that playing basketball growing up kept him out of \u201cthe trick bags of inner city life.\u201d As Hatch practiced, he caught the attention of Jon Furbush \u201905, then a new assistant coach and just fresh out of Bates himself. \u201cI didn\u2019t know the recruiting class because I was new to coaching, but I thought, \u2018Who is this kid? He\u2019s got to be one of the top prospects.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As it turned out, Hatch was not a recruited athlete, but by the time Furbush returned to Bates to take the head coach job after getting a graduate degree, Hatch was a junior, captain of the team and a fluid player with \u201can uncanny ability that no one else had to create his own shot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were back-to-back Hatch 3-pointers in the course of 11 seconds that sent a game with Colby into overtime. \u201cThe gym was nuts,\u201d Furbush says. Video from the game shows Hatch emerging from the jumping and hugging masses, going quietly, with no fuss, to the bench, ready for overtime. \u201cHe never gets too high or too low,\u201d Furbush says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A decade later, as Bates went to remote learning over the spring, Hatch became a regular sounding board on Zoom for Furbush\u2019s current team as they struggled with being cut off from campus and each other because of COVID-19. Furbush describes Hatch as invaluable, especially for players of color. \u201cOne of the most authentic listeners I have ever spoken to,\u201d Furbush says. He offered up his own ear for Hatch after George Floyd\u2019s murder. \u201cI wrote to him to say, \u2018Hey man just thinking about you. You are somebody who has always put everybody else before yourself. It\u2019s okay to be selfish.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Basketball was one of the factors that helped Hatch make a home for himself at Bates. So was singing with the Gospelaires, the gospel ensemble he co-founded; being active with Amandla! Black Student Union; and actively mentoring younger students of color, helping them feel comfortable on campus. \u201cHe was a central convener,\u201d Phillips says. He made connections with Admission staff, including Carmita McCoy, at the time a dean who had begun recruiting for Bates in Chicago. She found herself using Hatch as a sounding board. \u201cI picked his brain quite a bit,\u201d McCoy says. \u201cHe was a huge recruitment tool,\u201d and he knew Chicago. \u201cThere were quite a few that came to Bates on Marshall\u2019s word that they would be OK.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hatch was also spending time, along with Phillips and other friends, at the Multicultural Center on Campus Avenue, known informally by students as the Black House. \u201cWe would cook there, we would sing songs at the drop of a hat,\u201d he remembers. \u201cIt was a space that felt like home, like a reprieve from a dominant culture on campus where you were forced to question yourself before even opening your mouth, out of fear that you would sound dumb or be too renegade with your ideas.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In July 2010, Hatch, having graduated with a politics major, joined Bates Admission. At the same time, Bates restructured its equity and inclusion programs, which included renaming the Multicultural Center as the Intercultural Center, recasting its programming as the Office of Intercultural Education, and the departure of a popular administrator.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The goal was a broader approach to equity and inclusion, but it was a dispiriting time for Black students and recent alumni like Hatch, who felt that valuable support and an important space \u2014 the “reprieve from the dominant campus culture\u201d \u2014 had been taken away. \u201cBates did not do a good job with that,\u201d he says. (Today, the Office of Intercultural Education\u2019s program space is in Chase Hall, and a Senior Staff\u2013level vice president leads equity and inclusion initiatives.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n As an Admission counselor, Hatch visited cities like Seattle and San Francisco, working to make Bates a place where students like him could be comfortable. McCoy got a chance to mentor him then, not that he needed much of it. \u201cHe was top-notch,\u201d she says. \u201cA consummate professional, a funny guy, very respectful…a gentleman and a scholar.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But love called him back to Chicago. He wanted to make sure his little brother was being supported in his adolescence. He took a job at Urban Prep Academies for three years, where he reconnected with a Bowdoin alum, Zulmarie Bosques, whom he had met once in Maine, and they fell in love (they married in August 2018 and have a 1-year-old daughter, Sophia). He went back to school himself, earning two more degrees, a masters in social work and one in divinity from the University of Chicago, finishing in 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In returning to Chicago, he also returned to his spiritual home, the New Mount Pilgrim Missionary Baptist Church, where his father has been the pastor since Marshall Jr. was 5. \u201cI grew up in the church,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cIt has nurtured me. It has nourished me. It really is all that I know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The church and its associated buildings in the surrounding streets are the spiritual and physical home of his MAAFA Redemption Project, which he and his father co-founded in 2017. New Mount\u2019s sanctuary was once the home of one of the largest Irish Catholic churches in Chicago, a somber neo-Gothic building of soaring arches and Carrara marble, with massive stained glass windows filled with Eurocentric-images of Jesus and Mary. In short, when the archdiocese sold it to New Mount in 1993, it was a very white place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The bones of the place remain, but its eyes, in the form of its stained glass windows, have gradually been replaced with imagery that speaks to African American history and iconography. The job is nearly done, and the windows stand as symbols of what was and what Marshall Hatch Jr. hopes will be, not just for this predominantly Black community in Chicago, but others all around America.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Via Zoom, he gives a tour, enabled by a laptop tilted this way and that. The North Star\u2013Great Migration window features a male figure lifting his daughter up to the next generation, inspired by the seminal scene from the 1977 miniseries Roots<\/em>, where Kunta Kinte holds his baby daughter up to the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt speaks to the promise and pain of the African American community,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cParticularly the journey from the South to the North.\u201d Some elders of the church were part of that Great Migration, from states like Arkansas and Georgia. Hatch\u2019s grandparents were also part of the mass movement of Black people fleeing the Jim Crow South after Reconstruction. \u201cThey came up from Mississippi,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cAberdeen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rhoda Hatch was the keeper of those family histories. When she died on April 4, at 73, after a terribly swift battle with COVID-19 \u2014 \u201cmy father took her to the hospital and never saw her again\u201d \u2014 stacks of documents came to him, along with a calling to find out more. He joined Ancestry.com and discovered that his great-great-great-grandfather, Zack Hatch, served in the Union army. This knowledge gave him a deeper sense of belonging. \u201cI am just as American as anybody else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Sankofa Peace Window features images of the four girls killed in the 1963 church bombing in Birmingham. Five images of young martyrs of Chicago\u2019s violence line the bottom. \u201cSankofa\u201d refers to a principle of using the wisdoms of the past to <\/strong>imagine and project a better future. \u201cIt\u2019s almost like a philosophy of life,\u201d Hatch says. (Sankofa is also the name of the annual Bates show that explores the experiences of the African diaspora through theater, music, and dance.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe East window is kind of hard to see,\u201d Hatch says, tilting again. \u201cThat is the MAAFA Redemption window.\u201d Composed of grays, blues, and black, the figure of Christ stands, head back, arms open to the sides, but chained. His torso is represented by a slave ship, bodies packed in like firewood, similar to the illustrations by British abolitionists in the late 18th century, which, as Hatch says, \u201cwere created to be a broadside to expose the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In this depiction, Christ is \u201ccarrying within himself the memories of those who lost their lives on the journey to America,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cBut also he\u2019s carrying the legacy of those who survived. And we are that living legacy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hatch wrote about this window and how it inspires the New Mount congregation for his master\u2019s thesis in the divinity program. It is foundational for him as well. \u201cI\u2019m really committed to do something to not repeat that history,\u201d he says. \u201cTo redeem that history by living out a conscious life, a life that\u2019s impactful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the Hatches, father and son, founded the MAAFA Redemption Project, they were thinking of Laquan McDonald, a 17-year-old shot and killed in 2014 as he walked away from Chicago police. The U.S. Department of Justice had just released a report on Laquan\u2019s killing, describing the culture of \u201cexcessive violence\u201d within the Chicago police. \u201cThe creation of MAAFA in 2017 was a way of protesting,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cThat was part of the motivation for finding the Laquans in this community and trying to invest in them and create spaces for them to heal and grow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe try to instill in them a sense of dignity, respect, hope \u2014 telling them that this rich history that you are a product of is what gives you purpose in life,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cThose who came up from the South, those who literally sacrificed their lives so that you could be alive right now, you owe them something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The main focus for each MAAFA cohort (the size has grown steadily since the first class of 12) is on learning construction trades. They\u2019ve already rehabbed two abandoned buildings, and this year Hatch and his advisers, many of them elders from the church who work in construction or finance, added training for landscaping jobs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The symbolism of both is not lost on Hatch, he says. \u201cWe started on the assumption that construction-based training would be ideal. Again, symbolically, you have to tear down to build up. And I think horticulture is even more impactful.\u201d The trainees understand the potential, for them and their community. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t take much to convince them that there is a huge industry behind beautification.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They\u2019ve been creating an urban farm and a meditation garden in the yard of the Sankofa House, where about half the trainees live (COVID-19 has slowed some housing plans because of social distancing). There will be a fire pit, a place to talk, a place to share the learning of the day. There are, Hatch says, \u201cendless possibilities\u201d for the men of MAAFA.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anthony Phillips agrees. He recently made a financial commitment to support MAAFA. He saw firsthand what West Garfield is up against, when he stood up for Hatch at his wedding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI grew up in North Philly,\u201d Phillips says. \u201cWith poverty and everything, but I will tell you, that community? It is no comparison. It is much more in need.\u201d He recalls seeing a video of a 24-year-old getting his GED and thanking Marshall for it. \u201cWhat Marshall is doing is taking those kids who people forgot about. He is positioning them for success. And he also doesn\u2019t forget about the grown men who need it. That is huge.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n What about the possibilities for him? Hatch is the kind of person who seems like he could be, say, a natural politician. He smiles. \u201cNot long ago, I was extremely pessimistic about politics,\u201d he says. \u201cSo much so that I considered it an evil.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some things have changed that view, including the legacy of the late civil rights icon John Lewis, and getting to know Illinois Congressman Danny Davis. \u201cHis heart,\u201d Hatch says. \u201cHis work.\u201d But he knows a minister can do great and important work as well. \u201cIf I had to decide in this season of my life, I would edge toward ministry.\u201d This work he\u2019s doing now? \u201cI can\u2019t imagine being more fulfilled.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The other day, Hatch father and son were talking, and they found themselves \u201cdwelling on despair.\u201d As they spoke, they came to a resolution, of sorts. \u201cBecause of who we are, because of the lineage that we represent, and because of the God we believe in, we can\u2019t really afford to linger in despair. Optimism is where we should land, I think, because there\u2019s a lot to hope for.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In the West Garfield neighborhood of Chicago, Marshall Hatch Jr. \u201910 works with young men of color in a job and life-skills training project. Hatch is right where he\u2019s supposed to be.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1283,"featured_media":138224,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_hide_ai_chatbot":false,"_ai_chatbot_style":"","associated_faculty":[],"_Page_Specific_Css":"","_bates_restrict_mod":false,"_table_of_contents_display":false,"_table_of_contents_location":"","_table_of_contents_disableSticky":false,"_is_featured":false,"footnotes":"","_bates_seo_meta_description":"","_bates_seo_block_robots":false,"_bates_seo_sharing_image_id":0,"_bates_seo_sharing_image_twitter_id":0,"_bates_seo_share_title":"","_bates_seo_canonical_overwrite":"","_bates_seo_twitter_template":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-138085","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-batesnews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138085","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1283"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=138085"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138085\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":138233,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138085\/revisions\/138233"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/138224"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=138085"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=138085"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=138085"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"Members](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0013.jpg\")
![\"Rev.](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0025.jpg\")
![\"Men's](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2-Hatch-BatesMHoops8532-pgj-edit.jpg\")
<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n![\"Baccalaureate](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2-Hatch-100529_Baccalaureate_9353.jpg\")
Hatch attends the Class of 2010’s Baccalaureate on May 30, 2010. (Phyllis Graber Jensen\/Bates College)
<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n![\"Members](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0015.jpg\")
<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n![\"Rev.](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0037-1.jpg\")
Hatch poses before a stained- glass window that spells \u201cRemembrance\u201d within New Mount Pilgrim Baptist Church, the home of his community work in Chicago\u2019s West Garfield neighborhood. His T-shirt has a Bryan Stevenson quote: \u201cEach of us is more than the worst thing we\u2019ve ever done.\u201d
(Sebasti\u00e1n Hidalgo for Bates College)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n![\"Maafa](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0027.jpg\")
![\"Rev.](\"https:\/\/www.bates.edu\/news\/files\/2021\/02\/E2_Bates_08082020_0035-1.jpg\")