“At first I thought I was alone, now I know there are many of us.” – Moses, a young Latino activist via an interpreter
I can hear the singing as soon as I step off the elevator. The opening reception for Young Leaders for Social Change has begun and though the festivities have already started, someone makes room for me in the “Circle”. About 50 young leaders of color are here to network and engage in discussion and knowledge building sessions focused on social justice issues. Hosted by the Southern Partners Fund, Young Leaders for Social Change is their inaugural gathering of young and emerging community organizers, nonprofit professionals, college students, and philanthropic practitioners, ages 18-35, who are committed to social change around the country, but particularly in the rural South.
We are in midtown Atlanta, the city where, fifty years earlier, student protesters organized sit-ins at local restaurants to protest racial segregation. A city with such a historical role in the civil rights movement that it is the site of The King Center, a memorial to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. A city where, on Sunday mornings, you can still hear the triumphant singing of worshipers bursting from Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Dr. King preached the gospel of nonviolence and social justice. Tonight, there is also singing, and clapping, and even spoken word poetry. Performer and facilitator Mike Molina shares some of his original poetry and encourages other artists to step into the circle and share their gifts. “I salute you for just being you,” he says.
In case you haven’t noticed, this ain’t yo mama’s nonprofit conference.
There are few white people in attendance. Mostly there are young African American and Latino leaders, even some who don’t speak English. There is an interpreter. Far from your run-of-the-mill emcee, we have Milano Harden from The Genius Group and a 2009-2010 ABFE Fellow, who greets participants with a smile and the kind of voice I only hear in the choir at church. He sings, acapella, what appears to be an original song, “…hold on to your faith and patience…” We begin to introduce ourselves. Milano encourages us to honor the differences in the room. “I’m not into simply tolerating diversity, I’m into honoring it. But first we have to acknowledge it.” He reminds us that there are no swift, easy answers to the issues we’ll be talking about in discussions and workshops during the conference – equity, structural racism, social justice. We are instructed to respect the complexity of this work, what the issues can trigger for us, and to trust the wisdom of the group.
I meet a bubbly youth community organizer from Mississippi who was inspired by a family friend to pursue a career in social change. She talks passionately about working with kids, but a cloud comes over her face when I ask her how she likes doing the work. She’s been at it for a few years, she tells me. And it’s becoming stressful because there are longer hours now, and the work is never done.
Many conference attendees are still students trying to figure out their path into the realm of social justice work. One young woman from Emory University tells me about her experiences volunteering abroad to educate HIV/AIDS patients. She tells of working with a 14-year old girl who had been raped, then ostracized by her family after contracting HIV. The girl’s family wanted to know if they could share eating utensils with their infected daughter. Back in America, the young woman from Emory is still trying to explain to her Indian-Pakistani parents why she wants to help people instead of pursuing a financially lucrative career after college.
We form mini-circles, and talk more about our individual experiences. Behind the nametags are shared hopes and dreams of serving our communities and becoming effective leaders. Each of us serving as each other’s inspiration. A 20-year old working to engage youth in environmental justice teaches me about what’s happening in his community and why green jobs are so important to communities of color. I ask him if he’s heard of Majora Carter and her work to “Green the Ghetto”. He shakes his head no. I call it an even exchange – his knowledge for mine. One community organizer from Detroit sums it up for everyone:
“We all told different stories, but they were all my stories.”
A young woman named Monica begins to sing a rendition of Jill Scott’s “Golden” and the clapping begins again. This time, there is a silent resolve in the room, an unspoken commitment to tackling the hard issues tomorrow, together.
Although hosted by a foundation, you really couldn’t tell that philanthropy (with a big “P”) was in the room. Try as I might, I cannot think of a conference I’ve ever been to that was so inclusive, and decidedly untraditional. I just wish all of you dear readers were here to see it for yourselves.
Full disclosure: Southern Partners Fund paid me to provide blogging services for this event to leverage the power of social media to share their stories with the wider philanthropic community. The views expressed here are solely my own, however, and I stand by my commitment to authentic coverage of these issues. Would you like to hire me? Visit my portfolio to see samples of my work.
*Names have been withheld to preserve the confidentiality of the conversations held during the conference.
Wonderful site Rosetta! I think you’re providing a wonderful perspective with your blog posts and tweets! We both have similar backgrounds and services we are trying to provide organizations. Lastly, good luck with your PhD. I just completed mine and it feels wonderful. Best wishes, Miguel
Great post Rosetta! I look forward to reading more about the conference-