The Movement for Black Lives National Convening in Cleveland was more than just an assembly of passionate activists and talented organizers. It was more than just a series of workshops and Black radical thought. It was a sacred space for Blackness that will have ongoing effects on Black organizing in the coming weeks and months.
The mass convening - which took place July 24-26 and brought together more than 1,500 Black activists and organizers - was a weekend of love, a safe space for Blackness that isn't typically created, particularly on a national scale. For three days we could actually breathe. We could touch each other, learn from and connect with one another. We could actually talk in private amongst ourselves. We could love our lips, noses and hair without stares from others who simply cannot relate. We could collectively celebrate our ability to survive, in peace, in whatever form we chose to do so. We could speak to each other without white people interjecting their personal privilege and lack of understanding.
Everything the United States refuses to allow us to do on a regular basis, we did for three whole days.
A little more than a week has passed since the end of the convening, but many of us who participated in it are still processing its magnitude. At the convening, Black activists from all over the United States, Canada and the Caribbean converged to discuss not only police terror and state violence, but also issues such as mass incarceration, economic empowerment, education, culture, housing and Black health.
We laughed together. We cried together, and cheered for one another. We challenged each other and shared life experiences. We shared resources, studied together and created new networks. We debated. We danced. We chanted. We partied together. We healed. Everything the United States refuses to allow us to do on a regular basis, we did for three whole days. We embraced the full essence of ourselves as living beings - our own culture, our own heritage, our own ancestors - our history, our roots and the many forms in which Blackness is uniquely packaged. For three whole days, we all stood together, regardless of our religion and sexual preference, regardless of our age, gender and political affiliation.
This convening was truly for everyone: Black women, Black men, Black youth, Black elders, Black artists, Black straight people, Black queer people, Black trans people, Black labor, Black Muslims, Black Christians. It was "all Black everything." And I promise, I'm not making this up. You just had to have been there to fully understand. If it weren't for the physical walls of Cleveland State University, you would probably have thought you were back in old Congo Square.
The Humans Behind the Hashtags
Our daily course of meetings, actions and workshops were all well planned. I was thoroughly impressed with the wide range of topics and dialogue that helped to create a holistic and inclusive approach to the overall convening.
The Malcolm X Grassroots Movement (MXGM) hosted sessions on Jackson Rising and Chokwe Lumumba, Assata Shakur and Black Nationalism. Southerners on New Ground (SONG) hosted workshops on Black love, Black leadership and Black power. The Black Youth Project (BYP) hosted a session entitled "Building Black Women's Leadership." There were discussions on Black culture, Black art and the Black aesthetic - workshops specifically addressing the "miseducation of hip hop," theatrical jazz and revolutionary poetry.
Dr. Treva Lindsey led a workshop on Black scholar activism. Black Lives Matter cofounder Alicia Garza led a session on conflict resolution within the movement. There were discussions on revolutionary parenting and reproductive justice, social media and technology, urban farming and land reform, classism and labor, feminism and internationalism - gender, sexuality and Black health. There were two workshops on AIDS and HIV - which is a tough talk, yes, but a very pertinent matter in reference to Black survival. There were live yoga workshops and meditation spaces all three days.
Among all the many spaces of beautiful Black thought, my favorite workshop of the entire weekend was entitled, "COINTELPRO 101 & US Political Prisoners." I made sure to get there early so I could get a good seat. I didn't know who was going to be there, but I was aware that this particular workshop was going to be facilitated by Ashanti Alston, co-chair of the National Jericho Movement, Black Anarchist and former member of the Black Panther Party for Self Defense. I was definitely not going to miss this workshop.
Here we were, sitting at the feet of giants, a new generation taking notes from the old field generals.
Two steps into the room I see Ramona Africa, MOVE member and one of my all-time favorite freedom fighters. I shook her hand, thanked her and paid homage. I looked over slightly and sitting beside Ramona was Eddie Conway, a 44-year-long US political prisoner and former member of the Black Panther Party. Once I paid respect to Brother Conway and found a seat, I looked up to the panel's far left, and there was Henry "Hank" Jones and Pam Hannah - former members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, Black Panther Party and San Francisco 8. As a student of Black liberation, I was completely blown away. It was truly humbling just to be in the room - just to breathe the same air was an honor to me. Here we were, sitting at the feet of giants, a new generation taking notes from the old field generals.
As they discussed the specific details of their individual cases of state surveillance and repression, over 100 young activists packed the room. We squeezed in until there was no place to sit or stand. Panelists raised the banner of Mumia Abu-Jamal, Herman Bell and Russell Maroon Shoatz. They discussed the courage and many sacrifices of the Black Liberation Army and Revolutionary Action Movement. It was an absolutely beautiful sight to see - new soldiers connecting with the old, firsthand.
For those who were not up for such heavy discussion, there was also a constant stream of documentary and film screenings. Journalist and Black cultural curator, Dream Hampton hosted her new film, Treasure: From Tragedy to Trans Justice. Black filmmaker Renata Hill screened their widely acclaimed, Out In The Night, which has screened in over 90 venues since last year. Rounding the weekend was a full screening of the much anticipated new documentary, The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution. Needless to say, the weekend's schedule of events was something quite special.
Speaking of special, in a special tribute on the evening of July 24, we were addressed as a mass assembly by several of the recent families who have lost loved ones to police brutality and state violence. As each family approached the podium, we cheered and loved them up through crowd support. It was eerie how we had seen them all on the news over the previous few years, proud, but slightly broken. Gwen Carr, mother of Eric Garner, was there. Martinez Sutton, brother of Rekia Boyd, also spoke. Tracy Martin, father of Trayvon Martin, brought words. And how fitting to have Mike Brown Sr. remind us all that, "This is why we fight." Amberly Carter, cousin of the late Emmett Till, was also there.
At one point, nearly all of us were crying. It was very important that hashtags became human again at this event. Family members were able to share their fallen loved ones' favorite color, hobby and favorite foods. There were so many faces and names, some of them we had almost forgotten. Ironically, Cleveland was initially chosen as the host city to honor the lives of Tamir Rice and Tanisha Anderson, both local victims of police murder. It was so good to be reminded of just how strong these families really have been. We were clearly all moved by their collective strength and sheer resilience.
This convening was also a moment of personal growth. I really appreciated the inclusion of Black trans people. I needed that and so did many others. For me, before Cleveland, the question of Black trans lives was a mere political matter. I supported trans lives, but merely as a point of theoretical principle. Before Cleveland, I honestly did not see their struggle as my own. Thankfully, it was here at the Black Lives Convening that the Black queer and trans question became one of a personal matter, with implications that are much more than just political. I realized that these beautiful lives are more than just comrades; they're my kinfolk, my cousins, my aunts, my BLOOD! We are more than just "politically" intertwined; we are one people, one resistance, one struggle to simply survive. Over the course of the weekend's events, I not only stood with trans comrades, I also took the time to really listen, with my spirit. And in listening, I began to identify with their burning quest for complete liberation - Black liberation, the same kind that I want. I even learned a new prefix, "cis," which I couldn't wait to use in a public write-up.
Deeper Meaning, Deeper Needs
This convening was truly one of the most moving experiences I've ever had with my own people. I did not want to leave. I was not the only organizer who expressed such sentiments. As a people, we had managed to create a new "home" right there on the campus of Cleveland State amongst ourselves. It was a feeling that cannot be explained in words.
This convening was not only historic; it was right on time. We needed this as a movement.
According to the official website, the Movement for Black Lives Mass Convening was framed as a space and time that would be used to "reflect on our histories of struggle, build a sense of fellowship that transcends geographical boundaries, and begin to heal from the many traumas we face." To those who were there, it was just as advertised. This convening was not only historic; it was right on time. We needed this as a people. We needed this as freedom fighters. We needed this as a movement.
For those of us who have completely invested ourselves in this current movement for Black lives, we very often fight, but forget to feel. We feel, but very often fail to heal. Some of us are so busy moving around, mobilizing and organizing, we don't even eat properly. We don't sleep enough and take care ourselves. While I was in Baltimore for a month during the People's Rebellion, I met organizers there from Ferguson and New York who had slept in their cars for over a week. All they had was food and gas money. All they had was their courage and dedication. I gave them what little cash I could spare and we traded contact.
For those on the outside looking in, please understand that some of us are giving all we have - some of us are giving our lives. That's what the convening was all about: Black struggle, one sacrifice and a renewed sense of dedication, clearly emanating from a bold and brilliant new generation.
As Ramona Africa so poignantly stated in one of the workshops, "Don't be afraid to be a revolutionary. We have nothing to lose." After the Black Lives convening, thousands of us really believe that now. We do believe that we can win. And we will. And we will.