Bridgewater State students 'facing the wrath' of the university after saying N word in video
'As this conduct clearly does not comply with our university's stated values, we are actively addressing this outrageous conduct' via several departments and university policies, Bridgewater State said in a Thursday statement to MassLive. The university is barred by law from sharing what disciplinary action has been taken against the students, it said.
An edited version of the video posted to BSU's Black student union's Instagram account shows two male students saying the racial slur after another male student, who is recording the video, asks them to 'say something for the vlog.'
The Black student union condemned the students' speech in its Instagram post and called for them to be expelled from the university.
"We need to develop the Black unity and community here in order to increase our numbers and representation. PLEASE NEVER ALLOW ANY BS LIKE THIS TO BE SPOKEN AROUND YOU, IF YOU SEE SUMN, SAY SUMN," the post reads.
The original video was posted to TikTok and later deleted, according to Boston.com. It is unclear in what context or for what purpose the video was recorded.
It is also not clear when the video was recorded or when the university was notified of it.
"We are truly grateful to our BSU students who have brought hateful video comments to our attention‚" Bridgewater State's statement reads.
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San Francisco Chronicle
3 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Black mayors of cities Trump decries as 'lawless' tout significant declines in violent crimes
As President Donald Trump declared Washington, D.C., a crime-ridden wasteland in need of federal intervention this week and threatened similar federal interventions in other Black-led cities, several mayors compared notes. The president's characterization of their cities contradicts what they began noticing last year: that they were seeing a drop in violent crime after a pandemic-era spike. In some cases the declines were monumental, due in large part to more youth engagement, gun buyback programs and community partnerships. Now members of the African American Mayors Association are determined to stop Trump from burying accomplishments that they already felt were overlooked. And they're using the administration's unprecedented law enforcement takeover in the nation's capital as an opportunity to disprove his narrative about some of the country's greatest urban enclaves. 'It gives us an opportunity to say we need to amplify our voices to confront the rhetoric that crime is just running rampant around major U.S. cities. It's just not true,' said Van Johnson, mayor of Savannah, Georgia, and president of the African American Mayors Association. 'It's not supported by any evidence or statistics whatsoever.' After deploying the first of 800 National Guard members to Washington, the Republican president is setting his sights on other cities including Baltimore, Chicago, Los Angeles and Oakland, California, calling them crime-ridden and 'horribly run." One thing they all have in common: They're led by Black mayors. 'It was not lost on any member of our organization that the mayors either were Black or perceived to be Democrats,' Johnson said. 'And that's unfortunate. For mayors, we play with whoever's on the field.' The federal government's actions have heightened some of the mayors' desires to champion the strategies used to help make their cities safer. Trump argued that federal law enforcement had to step in after a prominent employee of the Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE, was attacked in an attempted carjacking. He also pointed to homeless encampments, graffiti and potholes as evidence of Washington 'getting worse.' However statistics published by Washington's Metropolitan Police contradict the president and show violent crime has dropped there since a post-pandemic peak in 2023. Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson scoffed at Trump's remarks, hailing the city's 'historic progress driving down homicides by more than 30% and shootings by almost 40% in the last year alone.' Mayor Karen Bass of Los Angeles, where homicides fell 14% between 2023 and 2024, called the federal takeover nothing but a performative 'power grab.' In Baltimore, officials say they have seen historic decreases in homicides and nonfatal shootings this year, and those have been on the decline since 2022, according to the city's public safety data dashboard. Carjackings were down 20% in 2023, and other major crimes fell in 2024. Only burglaries have climbed slightly. The lower crime rates are attributed to tackling violence with a 'public health' approach, city officials say. In 2021, under Mayor Brandon Scott, Baltimore created a Comprehensive Violence Prevention Plan that called for more investment in community violence intervention, more services for crime victims and other initiatives. Scott accused Trump of exploiting crime as a 'wedge issue and dog whistle' rather than caring about curbing violence. 'He has actively undermined efforts that are making a difference saving lives in cities across the country in favor of militarized policing of Black communities,' Scott said via email. The Democratic mayor pointed out that the Justice Department has slashed over $1 million in funding this year that would have gone toward community anti-violence measures. He vowed to keep on making headway, regardless. 'We will continue to closely work with our regional federal law enforcement agencies, who have been great partners, and will do everything in our power to continue the progress despite the roadblocks this administration attempts to implement,' Scott said. Community organizations help curb violence Just last week Oakland officials touted significant decreases in crime in the first half of this year compared with the same period in 2024, including a 21% drop in homicides and a 29% decrease in all violent crime, according to the midyear report by the Major Cities Chiefs Association. Officials credited collaborations with community organizations and crisis response services through the city's Department of Violence Prevention, established in 2017. 'These results show that we're on the right track,' Mayor Barbara Lee said at a news conference. 'We're going to keep building on this progress with the same comprehensive approach that got us here.' After Trump gave his assessment of Oakland this week, she rejected it as 'fearmongering.' Social justice advocates agree that crime has gone down and say Trump is perpetuating exaggerated perceptions that have long plagued Oakland. Nicole Lee, executive director of Urban Peace Movement, an Oakland-based organization that focuses on empowering communities of color and young people through initiatives such as leadership training and assistance to victims of gun violence, said much credit for the gains on lower crime rates is due to community groups. 'We really want to acknowledge all of the hard work that our network of community partners and community organizations have been doing over the past couple of years coming out of the pandemic to really create real community safety,' Lee said. 'The things we are doing are working.' She worries that an intervention by military forces would undermine that progress. 'It creates kind of an environment of fear in our community,' Lee said. Patrols and youth curfews In Washington, agents from multiple federal agencies, National Guard members and even the United States Park Police have been seen performing law enforcement duties from patrolling the National Mall to questioning people parked illegally. Pentagon press secretary Kingsley Wilson said the guard troops will not be armed but declined to elaborate on their assignments to safety patrols and beautification efforts. Savannah's Johnson said he is all for partnering with the federal government, but troops on city streets is not what he envisioned. Instead, cities need federal assistance for things like multistate investigation and fighting problems such as gun trafficking, and cybercrimes. 'I'm a former law enforcement officer. There is a different skill set that is used for municipal law enforcement agencies than the military,' Johnson said. There has also been speculation that federal intervention could entail curfews for young people. But that would do more harm, Nicole Lee said, disproportionately affecting young people of color and wrongfully assuming that youths are the main instigators of violence. 'If you're a young person, basically you can be cited, criminalized, simply for being outside after certain hours,' Lee said. 'Not only does that not solve anything in regard to violence and crime, it puts young people in the crosshairs of the criminal justice system.' A game of wait-and-see For now, Johnson said, the mayors are watching their counterpart in Washington, Muriel Bowser, closely to see how she navigates the unprecedented federal intervention. She has been walking a fine line between critiquing and cooperating since Trump's takeover, but things ramped up Friday when officials sued to try to block the takeover. Johnson praised Bowser for carrying on with dignity and grace. 'Black mayors are resilient. We are intrinsically children of struggle,' Johnson said. 'We learn to adapt quickly, and I believe that we will and we are.'
Newsweek
3 hours ago
- Newsweek
Nelly Korda Sounds Alarm as Catfishing Scam Targets Fans, Female Golfers
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. Over the past five years, LPGA players have repeatedly raised their voices against a disturbing trend of catfishing scams that impersonate female golfers, lure fans into fake relationships and drain them of thousands of dollars. Despite public warnings, the scams persist. And now, they've pushed former world No. 1 Nelly Korda to speak out with urgency. TROON, SCOTLAND - JULY 27: Nelly Korda of the United States looks across the 10th green during the final round of the ISPS HANDA Women's Scottish Open 2025 at Dundonald Links Golf Course on July... TROON, SCOTLAND - JULY 27: Nelly Korda of the United States looks across the 10th green during the final round of the ISPS HANDA Women's Scottish Open 2025 at Dundonald Links Golf Course on July 27, 2025 in Troon, Scotland. (Photo by) More The latest eye-opening moment came from The Athletic, which created a fictitious Instagram account under the name Rodney Raclette, a 62-year-old Indiana native and self-proclaimed LPGA superfan. Within 20 minutes of following a few verified accounts, Rodney received a message from what appeared to be Nelly Korda herself. "Hi, handsomeface, I know this is like a dream to you. Thank you for being a fan," read the DM from @nellykordaofficialfanspage2, per report. Of course, it wasn't Korda. And Rodney doesn't exist. But the scam was all too real. In the real world, a fake account impersonates a golfer, initiates contact, then quickly shifts the conversation to Telegram or WhatsApp. From there, the scammer offers exclusive perks, VIP access, autographed gear, and even romantic promises in exchange for untraceable payments via cryptocurrency or gift cards. Once the money stops, the scammer vanishes. This forced Korda to raise her voice. "It's been taken out of my hands being able to communicate freely with fans," Korda told The Athletic. "Because I don't really know their intentions." Korda has pinned a warning to the top of her Instagram profile, but the scams are evolving faster than she can report them. She says she used to flag 20 fake accounts per day. Now, they multiply by the hour. "You're just put into a situation you really don't want to be in," she said as quoted by The Athletic. "You feel bad, you feel guilty for people going through this. It's the last thing you want. It's not only putting the players in danger, in a sense, but it's putting all the fans in danger." This is not the end, though. In one case, a Pennsylvania man drove four hours to Liberty National Golf Club believing he had a VIP dinner planned with Rose Zhang. He had sent her $70,000 over a year. Zhang's agent had to break the news that it wasn't her and that he had been scammed. Even The Athletic's fictional fan made up for the story was asked for ID and offered a "Fan Membership Card" for $700. When he hesitated, the fake Korda threatened to end the conversation until she sent an AI-generated video of the real Korda, altered to address him by name. Security experts say the scams are difficult to trace and nearly impossible to prosecute. Most perpetrators operate overseas, and the FBI rarely intervenes unless the financial loss crosses a high threshold. All said, the problem persists. The day after Rodney's account was created, the scam page that messaged him was deleted. When Rodney emailed the fake Korda to ask why, she replied, "I deactivated the account because of imposters, and the FBI are working on catching them." That, too, was a lie. As the LPGA continues to grow in popularity, so does the threat. More Golf: Akshay Bhatia Lands New Car With Ace at BMW Championship Third Round
USA Today
6 hours ago
- USA Today
Deported from US, these social media influencers are now monetizing their misfortune
More than 70,000 Mexicans were deported from the US in the first six months of the year. Now, they're (re)building lives south of the border. Deported and alone, Annie Garcia landed in Mexico with $40 in her pocket, a criminal record in the United States behind her and an unknown future ahead in a country she barely remembered. Fast forward to the present, to a video shared with her more than half-a-million social media followers in August. Her hair blows in the wind as she speeds on a boat through an emerald sea. She tagged the clip: #LifeAfterDeportation. Expelled from the United States, young Mexican immigrants like Garcia, 35, are documenting the aftermath of their deportation online. Their videos – raw grief over what they lost in America, surprise and gratitude for what they've found in Mexico – are rapidly gaining them tens of thousands of followers. At least a dozen of these deportees-turned-influencers, Garcia included, have started over in Mexico's west coast beach gem, Puerto Vallarta. 'If there's one thing I wish my content could embody it's how much life there is on this side of the border," Garcia wrote June 15 on Instagram. "Our countries aren't what they were 20 or 30 years ago when our parents left." Returning to an unfamiliar 'home' More than 70,000 Mexican nationals were deported from the United States to Mexico in the first six months of 2025, according to Mexico's Interior Ministry. That's down from the more than 102,000 deported during the same six-month period in 2024, when people were being deported after crossing the border. Now, the people being deported are more likely to have built lives and families in the United States. With President Donald Trump's aggressive mass deportation campaign underway, Francisco Hernández-Corona feared being detained. So he self-deported to Mexico, accompanied by his husband. He started vlogging. The 30-something Harvard graduate and former Dreamer had been taken to the United States illegally as a boy, he explained on TikTok. Multiple attempts to legalize his status in the United States failed. In June, he posted his migration – and self-deportation – stories online. Between photos of golden sunsets and mouthwatering tacos, he posted in July: "Self-deporting isn't always freedom and joy and new adventures. Sometimes it's pain and nostalgia and anger and sadness. Sometimes you just miss the home that was." 'Life in the pueblo is not easy' Mexico remains a country of extremes, where stunning vistas and limitless wealth can be found in big cities and beach resorts, while hardship and poverty often overwhelm smaller communities. Olga Mijangos was deported from Las Vegas in on Christmas Eve 2024, two years after being charged with a DUI. She returned to the Oaxaca state pueblo she had left when she was 5. Mijangos, 33, has tattoos on her neck, stylized brows and long lashes – all part of her Vegas style. Back in her hometown, she began posting videos of goats being herded through the streets; the community rodeo; the traditional foods she began cooking. She posted videos from her first job: harvesting and cleaning cucumbers, earning 300 pesos a day, or $15. "I clearly understand why my mother decided to take us when we were little. Life in the pueblo is not easy," she said in a video of the cucumber harvest. "There is hard-living. There is poverty." Struggling to make ends meet for her family, including two children with her in Mexico and one in the United States, she moved to Puerto Vallarta where she met Garcia and Hernández-Corona. They began forming an in-real-life community of deportees-turned-influencers and others who left the U.S. They meet up for dinner at least once a month, and they create content. In their videos, they're having fun, drinks, laughs. But they're also celebrating what binds them to each other and to their parents' migration stories before them: their capacity for reinvention, and their resilience. "I'm very proud to be Mexican, and I'm learning to love a country I didn't get to grow up in, but I shouldn't have had to leave the home I knew to find peace and freedom," said Hernández-Corona, a clinical psychologist, in a July post on TikTok. "This isn't a blessing. It's resilience." Spanish skills, savings and support all matter A lot of their content has the draw of a classic American up-by-their-bootstraps success story, with a modern social media twist: from hardship to sponsorship. But the reality is that deportees' experience of building a life in Mexico can vary dramatically, depending on their earning capacity, language and cultural skills, and other factors, said Israel Ibarra González, a professor of migration studies at Mexico's Colegio de la Frontera Norte university. Deportees with savings in U.S. dollars and a college degree, those who speak Spanish and have supportive relatives in Mexico, may have an easier time than those who don't, he said. Others may face life-threatening risks upon their return, from the violence of organized crime to political persecution or death threats. "However much violence they've lived with in the United States, it's not the same as going back to a war zone," Ibarra González said, referring to certain Mexican states where drug cartels are actively battling for territorial control. Wherever they land – with the exception of some cosmopolitan cities – deported Mexicans have faced local prejudices, too. They've often been viewed as criminals, or their deportations as a failure. "Did I feel a lot of judgment? Absolutely," Mijangos said of her return to Oaxaca. "Even though it's my roots, I basically came from a different world. I have tattoos. I lived my life a certain way that they don't. I could feel people talking." But friends back home in Vegas, and new friends in Mexico, started encouraging her to share her deportation journey. It took her a few weeks to work up the courage. She posted a video of sending her U.S. citizen son to a Mexican school. It racked up nearly 14 million views and 2 million "likes" on TikTok, she said. Suddenly, TikTok was asking if she wanted to join the app's content creators rewards program. 'Your criminal record doesn't follow you' By taking their stories online, deported content creators say they are dismantling longstanding taboos around deportation in Mexico, shining a light on their experiences as Mexicans who didn't grow up in Mexico, and on their past mistakes. Garcia speaks openly on her social media about the financial crimes she committed in her 20s, for which she was charged and convicted, and that ultimately led to her deportation. She migrated to the United States when she was 4 years old, "out of necessity," she said. Her mother married an American citizen in Salt Lake City, Utah, and she and her mother both became legal permanent residents. But when Garcia began acting out as a child, the state intervened. "I was taken from my mother at the age of 12 because I had behavioral issues," she told USA TODAY. "I was separated from my family, and I grew up with other juveniles with behavior (problems)." As a young single mother, she would steal from her employers when she couldn't pay the bills, she said. In Mexico she found a clean slate. "Your criminal record doesn't follow you," once you've paid your debt to society in the United States, Garcia tells her followers. "You can pursue higher education. Any debts you had in the U.S. do not follow you here." As Trump's immigration crackdown widens, Mexico's President Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo has been publicly offering moral support to Mexicans facing deportation. She has called them "heroes and heroines" who "have contributed to the United States their entire lives." "We're going to keep defending our brothers and sisters there," she said in a June 25 news conference. 'Maybe … things will change' Garcia's social media accounts have grown so popular that she's earning a living, in part, from content creation. She is doing research on reintegration after deportation for an American university. And she has "tunnel vision," she said, on completing a law degree in Mexico. The pain of her deportation, and the losses it brought with it, are mostly in the past. Except when she catches news of the immigration raids in the United States. The memories of her detention, and her separation from her five children, including an infant, remain fresh. It took Garcia more than a year after her 2017 deportation to win custody of her children, to bring them to Mexico. "It's very, very triggering to me to see what's going on up there," she said. "It's a bittersweet feeling. I feel safe. I feel relief. We're here. It doesn't affect us any more. But it feels heartbreaking to see other families living through it. "When I first started sharing my story my idea was, 'Maybe if I talk about this, things will change'" in the United States, she said. She kept at it, despite facing hate and trolls online. She kept posting, even after losing two jobs in Mexico for openly discussing her deportation and criminal past on social media. She kept sharing, thinking, she said: "This is what is going to change things one day: us putting our stories out there."
