Originally published on August 8, 2015.

One year after Michael Brown’s murder and the uprising in Ferguson, we need vision more than ever.

As a Black woman, I know that we must aggressively imagine what it looks like when we are free, that there must be a prize to set our eyes on, a promised land … A mountaintop.

Even as we resist the #WorldAsItIs we must envision the #WorldAsItShouldBe.

Our movement must become sophisticated enough to put up a fierce resistance in the streets while at the same time imagine a new economic paradigm that is based on racial equity and the empowerment of communities that have been disenfranchised for centuries. We must work to shift policy that chips away at the current system until it topples, while dreaming up a new system to take its place.

We need resistance and alternatives.

We need to practice and prototype alternatives in pockets of safety created by the breathing room that small wins afford us.

We must structure our movement so that direct action is holding the line while others are shifting narrative, others are prototyping prefigurative alternatives, others are shifting policy, others are providing the sweet relief of good, healthy food, dance, love, pleasure, massages, hugs, and smiles.

Our movement needs all of us and we need to come into it with an ever expansive love that sees the value in all our approaches.

More than ever we need to work on our personal spiritual development, ground ourselves in unshakable certainty and truth, develop our own discipline and sense of focus, know how and when to soften and harden our hearts: soldiers by day, monks by night.

More than ever we need to create perspective based on our movement’s past, our current context, and our future.

More than ever we need to read, learn, and teach.

More than ever we need to truly learn to love and support each other. Far beyond the rhetoric we need to know what love and support really, really means. What does it mean to love each other only because we are in this together and our liberation is tied up in each other’s? 

More than ever we need to know what changes in society after we win.

More than ever we must value simple, beautiful things that make life worth living. We must take it easy on each other, and practice radical forgiveness.

We must reimagine the value of labor and the role of the human in the economy, particularly the human of color.

We must re-articulate our purpose and put humanity at the center.

We must think about what is beyond mattering and beyond survival.

We must believe in what happens when #BlackLivesAreFree.

#SurvivalAndBeyond

#BlackRenaissance

Aisha Shillingford is the artistic director for Intelligent Mischief, a Movement Strategy Network member. Born and raised in Trinidad & Tobago, Shillingford is straddling worlds but is primarily situated in Brooklyn. She is an artist and social movement strategist. She works across artistic disciplines and across movement sectors to unleash Black imagination to shape the future.

Originally published on August 19, 2015.

I am raising a young Black boy in a society that is set up to set him up for failure.

This means I am often in protection mode: protection against educational inequity, unfair discipline practices, preschool-to-prison pipeline, stereotypical accolades, and most importantly, his own self-hate and internalized oppression (don’t get me started on my five year-old-telling me he wanted to “be White”).

This is the daily battle I try to prevent my son from dealing with, the daily battle where I try to be the buffer between him and the real world. I imagine myself as Super Mama, a powerful, badass mama with one hand holding a massive shield blocking my son, and the other, a powerful fist raised in resistance.

But in all of my fighting, resisting, and protecting, I now realize that I have been blocking my own heart: my hands have not been open to nourish and nurture my son. I see more clearly that I have been parenting from fear. I know that I must transition from parenting for protection to parenting for liberation.

My practice commitment is simple and affirmative: “saying yes.”

Yes to liberation.

Yes to freedom.

Yes to self love.

Underneath all of these affirmative statements is an internal struggle against a fearful and safe “no.”  

After an amazing three days at Movement Strategy Center’s Transitions Lab in July, with brilliant leaders working across distinct but intersecting movements, I am metabolizing and distilling the lesson from the foundational question of our Lab exploration: “how do we transition from a world of domination and extraction to a world of interdependence, resilience, and regeneration?” As a movement maker and staffer of Move to End Violence, I am familiar with thinking about the “movement pivots” we need to make in order to go in a new direction. Now, as part of the MSC Transitions Lab, I am digging my heels deep into the “transitions” we want to make.

Transition is defined as “the process or period of change from one position or condition to another.” As a social justice movement leader, I have spent a lot of time focusing on the first part of this equation. Reflecting on my work in the violence against women movement, I know I expended a lot of energy naming the current period and existing conditions. This focus is present in the traditional names of our organizations. Much of our language and framing is issues-based (what we’re fighting against). We’ve become so skilled at naming the problem it’s become hard to name the solution.

The key word in the definition of transition is “another” — not just focusing on the issue but also transitioning in order to experience and create another circumstance or condition. My past work with young people was filled with opportunities to envision solutions. Young people (I know this sounds cliché) are the future and therefore have the capacity to vision a different world. A violence prevention curriculum I wrote with young girls was entitled “Be Strong” and spoke affirmatively from a strengths-based method for ending violence.

At the Transitions Lab, MSC guided us to think and vision a new world. We explored examples of movement strategies that employ visioning as a core element, such as my work with Move to End Violence, Octavia’s Brood, and Black Lives Matter. In each of these, social justice leaders are supported to think differently about their work. 

I invite you, too, to spend time visioning, looking toward the horizon, and sharing ideas of the world you hope to create.

[Updated August 2015] Trina Greene Brown has worked in youth violence prevention as an educator, coordinator, advocate, and mentor for the past seven years empowering young people to build healthy relationships. Trina is a Movement Maker with Cohort 2 and currently serves as the Outreach and Engagement Manager for Move to End Violence.

Originally published on February 12, 2015.

In early October 2014, Alicia Garza arrived in Ferguson, Missouri. Less than two months after Ferguson Police officer Darren Wilson shot and killed unarmed 18-year-old Michael Brown, the community of Ferguson was under siege. In the wake of Brown’s death, grief and rage enveloped the city like dense smoke. Centuries of pain from racism, alive and embedded in schools, jobs, neighborhoods, and endless police harassment, rose to the surface. Police and White city officials responded to community protests with brutal force, trampling on the most basic aspects of human dignity and rights.

National and international media descended on Ferguson, turning the spotlight on every corner of residents’ lives. As national organizations arrived — often removed from local relationships and experience — residents reeled. The chaos of the moment and the trauma of witnessing and experiencing police assaults and murders left them not only angry, but disoriented and deeply mistrustful.

With the backing of the National Domestic Workers Alliance, Garza traveled to Ferguson to support local organizing, collect the stories of women on the front lines, and participate in the #BlackLivesMatter Freedom Ride. Garza hoped to engage Black communities in “building a movement to transform our nation.”

One year earlier, Garza and two other women, Patrisse Cullors and Opal Tometi, had conceived “Black Lives Matter” as a vision and response to Trayvon Martin’s murder by George Zimmerman in Florida. At the heart of Black Lives Matter was a message about humanity and human rights, shining a light on one question: what are all the things that stand in the way of humanity and valuing Black lives, all Black lives, in this country? Black Lives Matter was clear: police violence is a crucial focus, and just the tip of the iceberg. In a communication from Ferguson, Garza wrote:

Every 28 hours, a Black woman in this country loses her child to police or vigilante violence. When a child is killed by police or vigilantes, we all fall short in upholding the values that connect us all — care, love, respect and dignity. In a democracy that protects all of us, no child should have less of a chance at a future because of the color of their skin.

Garza, Cullors, and Tometi had deepened their personal and political relationships with each other for over a decade. During that time, they cultivated transformative practices, including building a practice community together through Black Organizing for Leadership and Dignity, and applied these practices to organizing. They honed their vision for a changed world. When the outrage at Michael Brown’s death erupted, they were able to move into the moment — ready or not — with new ideas and the sense that they wanted to support family in the biggest sense of the word.

Garza spent her first few days in Ferguson listening and getting to know people. She wondered how local organizing could be strengthened in this excruciating time, particularly given the deep suspicion of outsiders, like her. Bringing the skills and politics she had developed in her 15 years of organizing, Garza knew that focusing on building authentic relationships and shifting people’s way of being together could transform everything else.

My personal practice helped to ground me and reciprocate compassion, love, and understanding even when I was faced with “who the hell are you?”

Seeking to bring out the best in themselves and others, the Black Lives Matter team began to explore questions that people could connect to from the heart, asking, “why does this movement matter to you? What does “Black Lives Matter” mean to you? What is your biggest hope for this movement?”

My work in Ferguson training organizers was about cultivating a practice of taking care of each other. When someone got a job they had been waiting for we celebrated. When someone else couldn’t be with us because her mother was dying we made sure to call her and share the love and let her know her spirit was still there with us. When someone was fired from his fast food job for talking about organizing, we all came together, giving him love and telling him how brave and courageous he was. He came in upset but left feeling held.

These practices helped Garza build authentic relationships with the local organizing team relatively quickly. They were then able to return to the community and engage community members with that same spirit.

We went door to door simply trying to connect with people, finding what they need and where we share purpose and vision.

While they only spent two weeks together, Garza and the community of organizers she worked with found a rhythm, established practices that grounded their work in purpose, and built deep and authentic relationships with each other.

At the end of each day together we would come back and share food and experiences. Then we’d end with a chant or a song or a prayer. These rituals are really important. They ground us in our bodies and remind us how we got to this place. They remind us that all our ancestors did some kind of ritual. We were only together for two weeks in Ferguson but the people I connected with are still family.

Alicia Garza’s story from Ferguson is complex and still unfolding. It is a story of Black communities rising up to say no to the daily inhumanity of structural racism. It is the story of Black communities seeking to build from purpose and love. It is a story of movement builders nurturing transformative practices within social justice, then, stepping up and into a movement moment.

Collective transformative practice is not some hippy dippy thing. It’s about how we are together and how we are successful as movements. This is how #BlackLivesMatter thinks about transformative practice: It’s about transformative relationship building. It’s about practice as ritual. 

The future depends on building these moments of high quality presence, clarity, insight, and heart-felt love. “Together,” says Garza, “we are organizing to build a new democracy and a society that values and protects all of our work and all of our families, and embraces who we truly are as a nation.”

Alicia Garza’s story from Ferguson leaves us with many important questions: How can we develop the collective strength and insight needed to transform a culture and an economy built on racism and domination? How can we cultivate our readiness to engage with extraordinary challenges — even when we don’t feel ready? What aspects of our social movements will continue to serve us, and what do we need to leave behind? How can we respond to a world of injustice and violence with the love and power we are just beginning to imagine?

How can we embody the world we want and need — right now?

Alicia Garza is a cofounder of #BlackLivesMatter and a director for the National Domestic Workers Alliance. 

Check out another publication on transformative movement building: Transforming Lives, Transforming Movement Building: Lessons from the National Domestic Workers Alliance Strategy from the USC Program for Environmental and Regional Equity.

Julie Quiroz (she/her) leads New Moon Collaborations, nurturing leaps in culture that transform systems and structures for generations to come.

Kristen Zimmerman is co-founder of Movement Strategy Center and Root. Rise. Pollinate!

Originally published on April 15, 2015.

As an activist and youth organizer who deeply values the power of healing and transformation, I have come to see that too often, within our movement, “healing” and “social change” occupy two separate spaces that have little intentional relationship with one another. Some people work to help others heal from their trauma and transform themselves. Other people dedicate themselves to grassroots organizing and changing the social and economic policies that shape our lives. While each of these spaces is imperative to any serious effort to create social change and transform our society, sometimes it seems that only a few people work in both.

It’s not hard to understand why that might be the case. It is easy for someone focused on healing and inner transformation to argue that we can’t heal society’s ills until we first heal ourselves. And, on the other hand, it is easy for someone focused on organizing and systems change to argue that the world has huge and urgent challenges that won’t wait for us to heal ourselves. The problem arises when we don’t heal the emotional and psychological harm that has been caused by systemic inequality. This leads us to burn ourselves out and often replicate the very dynamics we are trying to stop, hurting ourselves and hurting each other. Fortunately, a third perspective is beginning to emerge – one that integrates healing and transformation with organizing and systems change.

One of the people that taught me deep and lasting lessons about the need for us to work at the intersections of healing and social justice — and about the need for Healing-Centered Youth Organizing — is a young woman named Rayna. When I met Rayna she was 16 years old and had already suffered more loss than some experience in their entire lives. When Rayna was just 18 months old, her mother fell victim to gun violence, shot while pregnant with Rayna’s younger brother. Her mother was put on life support so  the baby could be brought to term, but she never recovered from her injuries. Then, when Rayna was about 12 years old, her father’s girlfriend was murdered and her uncle was killed on the street where she still lives today. As a teenager, Rayna lost countless friends and peers to violence. On her sixteenth birthday, she opened her front door and saw her childhood friend lying on the ground surrounded by a large group of people. A police officer had shot and killed him.

It was shortly after this that I first met Rayna. A friend encouraged her to join Silence The Violence (which would grow into Urban Peace Movement). Rayna tells us now that she was reluctant to come because, based on her experiences up to that point, she had trouble believing that peace was even possible. When her friend invited her, she thought our program would be “one of those places where you go and adults tell you that you are a bad person.” But thankfully — for her and for us — that is not what happened. Instead, she saw peers and adults working together, respecting each other, trying to find a path out of the vicious cycle of violence. Over time, she came to participate regularly. She attended community events and trainings. She went on retreats with us. And, within a matter of months she became one of our most committed young people. In Silence The Violence/Urban Peace Movement she found a new community of support, and in our trainings she learned skills and tools that she says “helped [her] calm down.” Outside of our meetings, she sought grief counseling. All of these things made a big difference in Rayna’s life. She began to open herself up to the possibility of happiness, daring to be vulnerable in the way that only a hopeful person can.

Based on this foundation of healing, Rayna entered into her first organizing campaign with our organization — a coalitional effort to secure a “community jobs agreement” for a large redevelopment project in Oakland expected to create thousands of new jobs. 

After attending her first city council meeting, Rayna came back to our other youth and said something like, “did you guys know that there’s a room over there where a group of people decide about things that affect our lives, like what the police can or can’t do and what type of jobs are going to come to this city?”

During the campaign, Rayna discovered she had a knack for public speaking and the ability to quickly understand complex public policy arguments. She got up at that first city council meeting and gave a two minute testimony so powerful that the council president actually interrupted the next speaker to call Rayna back up to the podium. He then paused the meeting to thank her personally for her remarks.

Rayna emerged as one of the lead spokespeople for the Campaign for Quality Jobs. Our coalition, Revive Oakland, ended up winning a landmark jobs policy providing for a community-based job center, living wages, protections for formerly incarcerated workers, and local hire, among other things.

Through the campaign, Rayna learned that her voice could help shift Oakland’s trajectory. And if her voice was powerful enough to change the course of local history, it could also transform her own life. Rayna landed a job shortly thereafter and she literally walks taller now than before. It was community organizing that gave her back to herself, helping her rediscover that which she had lost touch within all her trauma. She found her voice and her own power through organizing, and that is a critical part of the healing process.

Today, Rayna is a powerful, dynamic, self-assured young woman. Like most young adults, she is still finding her way. But she has a sense of confidence and conviction that sets her apart. Working with Rayna has been a pleasure and a privilege, and I wish that I could take credit for the person she has become and is becoming, but she did it herself. All we did was create the space for her leadership to emerge. In return, she has reminded me time and time again of why I fell in love with the power of organizing in the first place. And she has reinforced an important lesson: organizing and healing are not separate or competing things. They are intricately bound together, and together they will help us achieve the freedom we know is possible.

One of the most well known passages from the bible reads, “the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.” Most often, this passage is interpreted to mean that those who have had the least access to opportunity and those who have been cast out to the margins of our society will eventually be the ones that lead. This is a very powerful interpretation that runs consistent with social justice theory. However, I have come to see that this passage may hold another simultaneous meaning.

In the conventional, materialist view of the world, we put things first and people last. We believed that if we had enough of whatever it was that we thought we needed (money, fame, status, etc.) then it would make us out to be better people. That turned out not to be the case. Another view is emerging which says that we should start first by paying attention to who we are “being” and let who we are being guide our actions and our decisions. This will, in turn, help us to have a better society and a better world — one that benefits all of us. In this way we will put what was once first last and what was last first.

Social change organizations must start to take our role as “generators” of hope and optimism much more seriously. We must claim our victories, no matter how small, whether victories over violence and despair, personal victories, or political and economic victories. These seemingly small wins will help us build the momentum and capacity required to create a movement strong enough to restore balance to our society. Wins generate hope. And, hope carries with it a certain kind of momentum that adds a boost to our capacity to bring forth new possibilities and new realities into this world.

I don’t think of my own “practice,” my own healing, as something entirely separate from the social justice work that I am involved in. As much as possible I work to integrate them. And, over time, I have come to see that my social justice work has become part of my practice. I believe that the work of social change, the work of reimagining our world, is sacred.

For a fuller exploration of healing-centered youth organizing, read Nicole’s report available on the Urban Peace Movement website: Healing-Centered Youth Organizing: A Framework for Youth Leadership in the 21st Century.

Nicole Lee is a four-generation Oakland native, is the Executive Director of Urban Peace Movement (UPM), a grassroots racial justice organization in Oakland that builds youth leadership to transform the social conditions that drive community violence and mass incarceration. UPM has three leadership programs: DetermiNation Black Men’s Group for young Black men, Leaders in Training Program, a multiracial youth organizing program, and Lit Mob South County in Ashland/Cherryland.

Originally published on December 12, 2014.

We need new habits — philanthropic habits, that is. We need new habits that reflect the state of our country as it is now: a first world nation where young Black men are 21 times more likely than their White peers to be killed by police, where one third of the workforce is comprised of contingent workers, and where our country’s carbon dioxide emissions are contributing to what will likely be the warmest year ever recorded on the planet.

Habits are recurrent, unconscious patterns of behavior that are acquired through frequent repetition. Earlier this year, Staci Haines of Generative Somatics introduced me to the concept of 300/3,000: the idea that it takes a person 300 repetitions of a behavior before that behavior can be a conscious action you choose, then 3,000 repetitions of that behavior before it becomes an automatic response — think of a professional golfer changing her swing, or a baseball pitcher changing the release of a pitch.

While these are very physical examples, I think they apply in a philanthropic context.

What of our current grantmaking habits actually constrain movement? What of these habits are actually based on a dated analysis of the world? What new habits will get us a different outcome? How can grantmakers play a different role with community groups and thereby change the rules of the game?

Jen Sokolove of the Compton Foundation recently wrote on the What is a Justice Funder? blog: “funding only the kind of work with which we’re comfortable is precisely what limits innovation.”

To Compton’s credit, they are very transparently trying to develop new philanthropic habits to “build alignment across real divisions.” Another grantmaker to change their habits very publicly to “increase the net grant” is the Unitarian Universalist Veatch program at Shelter Rock who recently did away with asking for the “fake funder budget?

In my work with the Bay Area Justice Funders Network, I have observed that changes in strategy at philanthropic institutions aren’t always accompanied by a change in the grantmaking practices to carry out the new strategy, or vice versa. The results are challenging for the funder and their grantee partners. And when multiplied across multiple institutions, what is the cumulative effect on our ability to transform systems at the scale we need? What philanthropic habits get us closer to transformation?

Recently, I had the opportunity to reflect on habits from a very unique perspective. The Movement Strategy Center hosted a two day Transitions Lab where two dozen social justice leaders and funders gathered and, among other things, found ourselves passing a ball around in a circle. What this playful exercise surfaced for me was how rote our individual and group behavior can be unless we are intentionally trying to be different. It didn’t matter whether the prompt was for us to share the ball “abundantly” or “competitively,” we all have life experiences to draw from that allowed us to play together when bound by these rules. But this exercise made me think about how we play when we know that the current rules aren’t the ones we want to operate under anymore. Then what? How do we develop a new schema to work from?

I am clear that we in philanthropy need new habits to support new ways of intersectional organizing, as well as new habits to radically transform the very systems that allow and perpetuate state violence without accountability. We need new habits because the very definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over, yet expect different results.

While I may not yet have the answers to these questions, our group exercise of throwing the ball reinforced my belief that we need to intentionally choose what habits are moving us closer to what we want and what new habits we need to develop.

So, let’s talk … What habits need to go?

What new habits are folks trying on?

Who is interested in practicing some new ones together?

Dana Kawaoka-Chen is the Network Director for the Bay Area Justice Funders Network. She can be reached at [email protected], and on Twitter @justicefunders.

On July 16, 2022, 988 is finally going live — a sort of sister service to 911, 988 will replace the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255, which will remain in service after July 16) as a nationwide number for individuals experiencing suicidal thoughts, mental health or substance abuse emergencies, or emotional distress. A first step in reimagining crisis support in the United States, this easy to remember, three-digit number (call, text, or chat) is confidential, free, and available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Callers will be connected to trained English and Spanish language crisis counselors with interpretation services in over 150 languages.

We (virtually) sat down with Tansy McNulty, Founder and CEO of One Million Madly Motivated Moms (1M4), to discuss the launch of 988. As founder of 1M4, Tansy leads an ongoing effort to compile and share a comprehensive guide of local and regional Mobile Crisis Units all over the country — an often safer alternative to calling the police for Black families in need of mental health support. When 988 legislation was passed, in 2020, Tansy, 1M4, and their resource were in demand — this collection of crisis units and co-responders would be a jumping off point for 988’s network of operator-counselors and the mobile crisis units we all hope will follow, as 988 secures funding and expands.  

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

MSC: What is 988? 

TM: 988 is a federal mandate that was created back in December of 2020, that we would have a short, easy to remember, three digit number for suicidal thoughts, mental health emergencies, and behavioral health emergencies. Effective July 16th of this year, 2022, 988 will go live nationally. 

MSC: When should we call 988 instead of 911? 

TM: 911 is for criminal behavior or medical and physical emergencies … 988 is for those who are having suicidal ideations and those who are experiencing mental health emergencies, or emotional distress. So these are times that you need a counselor, someone to talk to, someone to de-escalate … The hope and the intention is for it to be a national dispatching center for mental health emergencies. That infrastructure is still being built, however … It will not be ready on July 16th in all places — so I want people to be aware that when you call 988 in these situations, depending on where you live, you may still have an interaction with a law enforcement officer.

MSC: How is 988 funded?

TM: 998 will be funded much like 911, in some states … Look at your cell phone bill, and look at the breakdown. On your bill you’ll see something that says 911. Everybody who has a cell phone is paying … 12 cents a month or 15 cents a month for 911. And that’s so it’s a fully funded organization and entity and that means it doesn’t run out of money. Well 988, ideally, would be funded the same way, but some states are running into issues with this additional fee, because it’s become politicized. So, some states are actually leaning towards a one-time grant opportunity to fund 988 and to fund the call-takers, those who will be servicing the 988 systems. The issue with having a one-time grant is it’s one time. And this is something that needs to be sustainable, so that it can continue, stay funded, stay helpful.

MSC: What are some gaps that 988 does not address? 

TM: The hope is for 988 to one day be fully fleshed out, to be able to release mobile crisis response teams, or mobile crisis units as well call it on our website — it’s just not there yet, they’re still building the infrastructure for that. And a big portion of that, too, is the need for funding — you have to be able to fund things for them to work, you have to be able to pay people … When you’re this close to someone going through rough times you need to be compensated well for that. So the funding is needed; and consistent, sustainable funding — not these one time things.

We also need community involvement — we have some community response teams on our website but there are so many others out there … I’m hoping they’re able to be funded through 988 too. The issue can be that sometimes the states take over and they don’t want communities to drive solutions, when we know communities keep communities safe.

MSC: How can we help make 988 better?

TM: Our involvement is needed, because a system that you are not a part of, you’re not considered. It’s very important to be a voice at the table; or just a voice on the other side of the phone. The opportunities to become a call-taker, to become someone who is the voice … Listening to what they need, what they’re saying, providing them the best outlet for help — and the outlet could just be you, listening. It’s amazing to me what happens when people just listen; when people actually feel heard. 

We need people on the other end of the phone who sound like the community that’s calling them. So if you’re someone who is empathetic to other people, who has a will to listen … Look up opportunities for employment, to be the voice someone hears when they’re upset … If you are someone who cares about people, who cares about solutions, who cares about public safety, the safety of individuals going through rough times, consider being a call-taker, consider going through the training to become one of those counselors … who are trained to de-escalate, to provide a soothing voice to hear you out in your darkest hour. 

MSC: What can we do until 988 launches and while it’s being developed?

TM: Right now you can go to our website and look up our mobile crisis units. Look at your state, look at your area, find who’s in your area who can respond to your needs. Particularly if you’re someone who has had or knows of someone who’s had suicidal ideations, or someone who has manic episodes — become familiar now with the guide and the people in your area, before you need them. It’s always best to build familiarity before you need that help. So you can know what their processes are and you know the group that’s going to answer the phone … I encourage you to call [their administrative phone numbers and] just talk — say, what can I expect? I have a family member or a friend who has these things that happen every now and then, what would happen? I don’t want to engage the police — will they be encountered? 

On our site it will tell you. We interview the people to ask them — will you include law enforcement? Some said yes, every time; some said only if a weapon is involved — ask them those questions, talk to them. [Save their] numbers now, so if … something happens with [a] loved one, or [you] see someone going through some distress, and it seems like they need help, [you] can call this number and know they have a better chance of surviving that interaction.        

You can all help us build out our guide. If you look at our list and you know there’s a mobile crisis response team that’s local to you [that isn’t listed] … Please share with us: go to our website or email [email protected], and send us the name of the organization. We will call them [and ask] them the same questions … just to make sure we understand how they respond.       

MSC: How do I know 988 is something safe that I can trust?

TM: We want … to [hear] what’s actually happening in the community. So, after you call 988 we would like to know what happened — so we can document it, we can keep up with it, we can actually report back to the implementation team.

Even for our mobile crisis guide: when you contact these different units, we would like to know what happened, did they get you the help they needed? 

I was in contact with a woman in New York … Her nephew was having back to back manic episodes, and when they happen back to back they increase in intensity. They put him on a list — it was a six month wait to get in with a psychiatrist. The family did not want to engage law enforcement, it’s a Black family. So they went to our guide, and they called their local mobile crisis unit, who put them in contact with resources. They ended up actually taking him to the ER, because at some ERs – it should be all but it’s some – there are psychiatrists on staff that you can get in with. So he was able to avoid having to interact with law enforcement by referencing our guide. 

And his aunt, the one who contacted me, was extremely grateful that she had that resource, that information. So we want to know from others: when you use our guide, what happens? We want to hear your stories, hear your experiences, we don’t want to share your name … We just want to know your experience so we can get better. We can let individuals know, who are in positions of power — you didn’t do what you were supposed to do, or you did, you did an excellent job, tell your colleagues [and share your knowledge in] keeping people safe and truly caring for people when they need us.  

A minor with an illicitly-sourced military-grade semi automatic firearm crossed state lines to join a group of pro-police vigilantes who gathered in Kenosha to allegedly protect homes and businesses from those protesting yet another instance of extreme police brutality against yet another Black man, Jacob Blake.

That minor then murdered two men and wounded another.

But he — Kyle Rittenhouse — is White. And conservative christians and blue lives flag wavers declared him a new sort of hero sent to protect their property and their values. So they bankrolled his release from jail and his defense.

And the judge presiding over the court case — a good old days, good old boy vestige called Bruce Schroeder — took him under his wing. He delighted in young Kyle. He banned anyone in the courtroom from calling Kyle’s victims what they were, what they are — forcing participants to use the words “rioter” or “looter” rather than “victim.” The “honorable” Bruce Schroeder even decided young Kyle should choose his own jury via lottery — an arcane bit of legal theater for racist fans at home who were already delighting in his old school, patriotic attitude (and ringtone).

Rittenhouse was found not guilty today. On all counts.

We are devastated. We are outraged. Essentially legalizing the coldblooded murder of activists — who are fighting for equity, who are fighting for peace, who are on the right side of history — well, that is a hard pill to swallow.

But now, as always, we stand by all people who are speaking out for social justice and for equity. We will not stop fighting for you, and with you, and standing behind you. And we will never stop honoring the victims of police brutality and this hideous strain of racist vigilantism — we only need mention Gregory McMichael, Travis McMichael, and William Bryan — the three murderers currently on trial for hunting down and killing Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia; a man killed for merely jogging while Black.

Let’s call a spade a spade: this is an absolutely disgusting conclusion to an atrocious crime, a circus of a trial, and a cyclone of racism. And proof that the carceral state cannot be rehabilitated and the criminal punishment system cannot bring justice. Be angry, be sad, but don’t be hopeless. Keep working and keep fighting towards abolition and equality for all. In the words of Mariame Kaba, “we do this ‘till we free us.”

This week, Muslims around the world are celebrating the end of Ramadan and the holiday of Eid-ul-Fitr. In Palestine, however, days meant for families and communities coming together in joy and prayer have been marked by brutal violence and oppression. As we view the images of families being evicted from their homes and brown-skinned people being viciously attacked by officers, we at Movement Strategy Center are struck by the parallels to the struggles of low-income, BIPOC, and LGBTQIA communities here in the United States.

As we fight for the preservation of indigenous sovereignty for Native communities here in the US, how can we turn a blind eye to the occupation and illegal settlements in Palestinian territories?

As we speak out against police brutality and militarism here in the US, how can we remain silent when armed officers storm into a mosque full of worshippers using teargas and stun grenades?

As we seek to transform our world towards racial equity and economic justice for all, how can we ignore the system of apartheid that the Israeli government has established against the Palestinians?

We can’t.

As an organization whose goal is to support movements working to dismantle unjust systems of inequality and oppression, we must add our voices to those condemning the persecution and killing of innocent civilians, including children. We welcome and echo the many statements in support of the Palestinian people from community leaders and elected officials. Unfortunately, the lack of empathy for the Palestinian people has become so normal that many withheld any condemnation of the Israeli government’s violence until rockets had been fired from the other side.

We are well aware from the police brutality we see here at home that the monopoly on violence belongs to the powerful, and that the right to self-defense is not afforded to people with brown and black skin. We must also not forget that it is American tax money being used to supply the weapons and training behind this violence.

The lethal hold used to kill George Floyd is also used by Israeli officers on Palestinians.

Just as we call for the de-escalation and an end to violence in policing here in the United States, we call for the de-escalation and an end to violence from the Israeli government.

For our brothers and sisters spending their Eid holiday mourning their family members under an endless barrage of bombing and brutality, we send our deepest condolences and radical love.

We at Movement Strategy Center acknowledge Derek Chauvin’s conviction for the egregious murder of George Floyd last May for what it is: A bittersweet victory that won’t bring Floyd back. His loss is one his family and our communities will forever contend with.

We hope Chauvin’s guilty verdict signifies an opportunity in Minnesota and across this country for more accountability in the age-old brutal violence against Native Americans, Blacks, Latinx, and other people of color at the hands of law enforcement.

Does it mean an authentic and honest federal investigation of police brutality at large in Minneapolis will occur? Does it mean that our representatives at the Federal level will be re-energized and refocused on last summer’s police reform bill bearing Floyd’s name?

Does it mean that we and our communities will continue the fight to transform the role of law enforcement and what it means to keep our community safe?

You better believe that MSC and the communities we represent and support will continue fighting with love and intention for radical change!

It is very clear that if not for Darnella Frazier’s footage of Floyd’s slow and tortuous murder, the intentionally false narrative of the Minneapolis police department would have prevailed.

So yes, we are not stopping our fight for honesty, accountability, and equitable justice for Black lives, Brown lives, and the lives of the Indigenous and poor.

Let’s not forget that while Chauvin’s verdict was being determined, we learned that instead of using other methods to defuse a dangerous situation, police in Columbus, Ohio killed Ma’Khia Bryant — a 16-year-old Black child.

These over-policing and shoot-to-kill tactics resulting in the senseless killing of people must stop!

Per The New York Times, roughly 1,100 people are killed by law enforcement officers each year, with at least 64 fatalities occurring between March 29 (the day testimony in Chauvin’s trial began) and April 21. More than half those recent deaths were among Black and Latino individuals.

So we must always say their names: Duante Wright, Eric Garner, Ezell Ford, Tony McDade, Michelle Cusseaux, Tanisha Anderson, Tamir Rice, Natasha McKenna, Stephon Clark, Jayne Thompson, Walter Scott, Bettie Jones, Philando Castile, Botham Jean, Atatiana Jefferson, Eric Reason, Dominique Clayton, Breonna Taylor, Adam Toledo, and every other Black life extinguished by law enforcement officers.

And we must pressure our elected officials. We must demand restorative justice and equity within our public safety and criminal justice systems. We must support our movement leaders in their tireless work dismantling systems of inequality and oppression. And, we must step up and speak out for true justice for our Black and Brown Brothers and Sisters!

Our hearts go out to the family of George Floyd; and to the friends and families of all victims of police brutality.