In my hometown, I have seen families impacted by violence support policies against their own interests—policies like mandatory minimums, which we know have no positive impact on the criminal justice system. We need to make sure that we maintain proximity to the work at hand. Too often we confuse proximity to trauma with proximity to work.
And be mindful not to reproduce the same elitism and gatekeeping in the work of social justice that we aim to remove in larger society. The attitude of scarcity and control, of “if you don’t do this work with or like me, then you’re not real,” will never lead to liberation. We have to be open to disagreement in this work. And we need to remember that our ideas can be in conflict without us being in conflict. When we come in conflict with each other, as people, it should only be to defend our core beliefs about everyone’s right to show up as full people, every time, in every way.
Do not turn your identities into tombstones; indeed, do not be ashamed of who you are. Our identities are as complex as the world we live in. We have every right to be trans, queer, gay, gender fluid, straight, bi, cis, and be whole and safe and happy and healthy and free. It is not our fault that the world has not moved as quickly to understand the complexity of our identities as we have in understanding the complexity of ourselves, even if it becomes our burden. When we show up in our fullness, we work to create space for those who stand beside us and who will come after us. And it is not always easy to show up fully, just as it is not always easy to stand in the face of adversity. Will you stand if you have to stand alone?
If you are reading this, you have survived. Be ever mindful that this work we engage in is undertaken in memory of those who did not survive, and to ensure that we never have to think about survival as a key axis again.
Our work needs no more martyrs. You can fight these fights and live. You can experience joy and beauty too. If you are not constantly refueling yourself, you will have nothing to pour into this work. If you’re ever afraid, you must learn to walk toward the fear.
I wish someone had told me sooner that the best idea doesn’t always win, but that the idea that wins is the idea that is reinforced day in, day out, to the point that it becomes second nature. I think that the people we fight against understand this better than the people on our side ever have. I now understand the power of storytelling and how ideas become anchors for actions. Remember, some of the most important things you will do is create entrances and on-ramps for people to be able to understand the work in which you engage so that they can then carry the message of the work and the work itself forward.
It is unlikely that you will be able to win alone. We will need each other if we are to get to a place where we end oppression and create the conditions where we protect that win. We often forget about protecting the wins that we do get, so they can’t be rolled back. But protecting the win is perhaps one of the most important parts of all that we do. You will need other people to help you do this work. You did not get here alone. And working with others will be natural in some ways because our issues are linked, not ranked. As you’ve heard before, when we are free, everyone is free.
Your curiosity will be your biggest weapon. Curiosity is imagination’s cousin. When you start to pull back the curtain on the world around you, you start to see that this was built by someone—and that you can be a builder too. Ask all the questions that come to mind. People will want to beat your curiosity out of you, but hold fast.
You never have to defend your rage. You have every right to be angry about the conditions that you were born into. You did not choose this fight; this fight chose you. That we ask for justice and not revenge is a testament to the souls of black folks—that we will not become the people we fight against. Do not let people demand your happiness either. All these things are yours—yours to decide how to put into the world on your own schedule.
I still have more to learn, but I wanted to share the things that I’ve learned so far about this world, about this work, about myself.
Keep the fight.
DeRay
Acknowledgments
To all the protesters who stood in the streets in those early days, before anyone knew that people all over the world would eventually support us, thank you for reminding me of the power of everyday people coming together to demand something different, of the power of community to create new energy that could be transformative. And to all the protesters who joined in the movement as the work rippled across the world, thank you for heeding the call and helping to build the power necessary to eventually have the impact that we deserve.
I have known many people in my life, but I have had no friend like Donnell Paul O’Callaghan III (Donnie). We have been friends for a decade, beginning in Maine, then working together in New York City, Minneapolis, and Baltimore. He is the brother I never had, the friend one can only hope for, and the confidant and thought-partner who helps to create space where none existed before. There would be no book without Donnie’s wisdom and his gifts, and I would not know how to maneuver around and in the written word without his gift for brevity and wit.
Calvin Mckesson, my father, taught me how to love. He taught me that love is not a game of winners and losers, that big hearts can always be bigger, and that sometimes we make sacrifices for the people we love. He also taught me that our gifts always show up when we share—of ourselves, our resources, our time. It is this spirit, in many ways, that pushed me to protest in the first place, this sense of love.
TeRay Ross, my sister, was my first friend, and she taught me how to love in the easy times and the hard times. She has always been a steadying force in my life, present but never overbearing, firm but never heavy-handed, caring but never suffocating. I will always be indebted to her love. And it is a lifetime honor to be the uncle of her children, Selah and Isaac.
I gained a new family in protest, and like all families we have had a range of experiences together. We’ve had the high highs and the low lows, but we’ve remained committed to a common purpose in the work that brought us together in the first place. To Brittany Packnett, you were the first person I met in protest and we have been side by side ever since. Your clarity, focus, steadfastness, and resourcefulness shaped so many moments that it would be impossible to recount them all. And your generosity of spirit combined with your sense of faith continue to be a model in my life. Thank you for being a sister and a friend. And thank you (and your mother) for allowing me to sleep on your couch all those late nights, and for being patient with me. I love you.
To Johnetta Elzie, we have been through so much together, both literally and figuratively. In some ways, I don’t know if any words will ever convey how close we’ve become. I still think about all those long nights out in the streets, doing the work that we both felt called to, and I am honored that we got to do it together. Thank you for being friend and family, for pushing when pushing was necessary, for showing me that love can be both a challenge and a call to action, and for keeping a commitment to the truth at the forefront of all this work. And tell your grandparents, aunt, and Tootie thank you for being family too!
To Samuel Sinyangwe, you helped me understand a sense of possible, to see the way the world could be that I didn’t know. Every day, I’m in awe of the way your mind works, of your ability to remain positive in the midst of challenges, and of the self-awareness that allows you to course correct when necessary. It has been an honor being a partner in this work and I am proud to call you friend and family.
To Leon Kemp, you were the brother and friend I never thought I’d meet, but then you were there. You’ve taught me so much about myself, about the world, and about holding true to the commitments that we make, especially in the hardest moments.
To Reggie Cunningham, your sense of resolve has always been a model to me, from those initial nights in Shaw to now, and I am proud to call you a friend.
To Kayla Reed, I remember the night you led your first action and I wil
l never forget you finding your power, a gift that I’ve always known would change the world. I will always be grateful for the time we’ve spent together and for the way we found joy together, especially in those early days.
To Alexis Templeton, we’ve had a connection since the first day we met. Thank you for being a friend and creating a space where I’ve always felt welcomed. I’ve learned so much from you, about walking into the risk, about self-love and self-care, and about the radical power of honesty.
To Elizabeth Vega and the other activists, for your ingenuity, creativity, and leadership throughout the protests, notably the sit-in at the St. Louis Metro Police Department.
To Cait Hoyt, you believed in this book before almost anybody else and you helped others believe too. Thank you for your willingness to do things differently, to shape and mold it beyond even my hopes, and to be there every step of the way.
In no small way, Georgia Bodnar, my editor at Viking, helped craft this book into something that would flow, would speak, would do work beyond mere storytelling, and I am eternally grateful for her grit, follow-through, sense of possibility, and feedback. If I never see another PDF of her edits, I will die a happy man, but her feedback has only made me, and this book, better.
When I first decided to go to St. Louis, I didn’t know where I would stay. I just knew that I was going to go. Jessica Cordova Kramer has been a guardian angel of sorts, always there in the most dire circumstances to help make a way out of no way. Thank you, Jessica, for connecting me to Brittany on the first day, a day that changed my life.
To Robin Williams Wood and Dr. James Wood, I always talk about you as my second set of parents. But in reality, you are like my parents and best friends and mentors all wrapped up in one. Thank you for loving me from my angsty teenage days to my now less-angsty but still hardheaded adulthood. And thank you for being a resource and helping hand in those moments when I was not as willing to accept help or love or feedback as I could’ve been. 1104 forever.
To Sharhonda Bossier, you believed in me in moments when I didn’t believe in myself, and I will always be indebted to your sense of love, your sheer talent, and your tenacity. I would work with and for you anywhere, anytime. Thank you for being a friend and for modeling a sense of purpose that I had only theretofore read about.
To Barry Mills, I am honored to consider you a friend, mentor, and partner. Thank you for always being there, especially when I needed it and wasn’t the most willing to receive feedback. I appreciate you.
To Ivy Blackmore, thank you for opening up your spare bedroom in those early days in St. Louis. You responded to the Facebook post and became a resource right when I needed help the most, and that was invaluable. I don’t know what I would have done without you.
To Maggie Sullivan, your leadership forever changed my understanding of my own. You trusted my work, my mind, and my commitment to justice in the most challenging times, and I will always be indebted to the space that you both carved out and defended for me. Thank you, Maggie.
To Miss Margaret, you opened up your home to me on several occasions, making it easier to find a place to sleep given the unpredictability of everything in the initial wave of protests. Thank you for your hospitality and generosity.
To the journalists—Yamiche Alcindor, Wesley Lowery, Ryan Reilly, Matt Pearce, Chris Hayes, Don Lemon, David Carson, and Robert Cohen, thank you for your unwavering commitment to the truth, especially in the early days when people did not believe the protesters. You were there in person, helping to shape a narrative that would change the world.
To the philanthropic, individual, and limited organizational funds—that have not exceeded $140,000 to date—that have allowed us to do this work nimbly and unencumbered from the constraints often associated with large organizational budgets or awards, thank you.
To Frank Chi and Will Donahoe, I feel like I’ve known you both for a lifetime. Thank you for always being a sounding board and for specializing in making the impossible possible. I hope that we work together for another lifetime, helping to push people beyond even their wildest imaginations.
To Lauren Dorman, you helped us with design when we were just beginning, unclear about the pathway but clear about our big goals. Thank you for being there and for using your gifts to help us access our own.
To Clint Smith III, thank you for being an honest and present friend, helping us all to think more critically about the world around us and more deeply about our own commitments as we live them.
To Reb Z and Heather De Mian, thank you for being truth tellers both in person and digitally. Your live streaming helped create access for people all over the world, and the protests would never have taken the shape they did without your work.
To Yvette Noel-Schure, Sophie Ash, and Lauren Wirtzer Seawood, thank you for believing in my voice and for pushing me to think bigger about how to make an impact. Yvette, thank you for your love and wisdom. Sophie, thank you for your faith and friendship. Lauren, thank you for your loyalty to this work and your loving-kindness.
To Solange Knowles Ferguson and Alan Ferguson, thank you for being there the day I got out of jail in Baton Rouge. I will never forget walking into the house and seeing you both there, present, loving, and ready to help. And thank you both for continuing to use your platforms to amplify the work of protesters across the world.
To Jesse Williams, I’ll never forget turning around that night outside of the Ferguson Police Department and seeing you. You’ve remained as committed from that day forward, and it is an honor to call you a friend and partner in this work.
To Colin Kaepernick, thank you for being a friend and using your platform and your voice to tell the uncomfortable truths that this nation likes to hide from.
To Beyoncé Knowles-Carter, thank you for each of our conversations, your support and the assistance of your team, and the way that you have chosen to share your gift with the world.
And to the host of friends, mentors, and colleagues whose counsel, happiness, and friendship at some point over the past four years provided necessary fuel for me in the hardest moments: Travon Free, Dr. Vernon Mitchell, Dr. Brandon Terry, Jack Dorsey, Dr. Sonja Brookins Santelises, Alison Perkins-Cohen, Muhiyidin Moye, the MuckRock team, Rob and Monica Norman, Kate Childs, Darnell Strom, Auriel Brown, Angel Carter, Brianna Richardson, Keith Rose, Alisa Mixon, Jonathan Pulphus, Alisha Sonnier, Kaleb Steele, Alicia Street, Jussie Smollett, Tracee Ellis Ross, Mark Hendrickson, Justin Hansford, and Cleo Wade.
And to the entire team at Viking Books, who broke all the rules in making this book happen and who believed in my story before it ever hit the page, especially Brian Tart, Andrea Schulz, Wendy Wolf, Tess Espinoza, Carlynn Chironna, Gabriel Levinson, Tricia Conley, Alyson D’Amato, Caitlin Noonan, Rebecca Marsh, Olivia Taussig, Theresa Gaffney, Liza Sweeney, Nora Alice Demick, Lydia Hirt, Jason Ramirez, Meighan Cavanaugh, Claire Vaccaro, Linda Friedner, and my copy editor, Jane Cavolina, thank you.
About the Author
DeRay Mckesson is a civil rights activist, community organizer, and the host of Crooked Media's podcast, Pod Save the People. He started his career as an educator and came to prominence for his role in documenting the Ferguson protests and the movement they birthed and for publicly advocating for justice and accountability for the victims of police violence and the end of mass incarceration. He's spoken at venues from the White House to the Oxford Union and universities and appeared on TV shows across the political spectrum. He was named #11 on Fortune's World's Greatest Leaders list and Harvard's Black Man of the Year in 2016, among his many other accolades. A leading voice in the Black Lives Matter movement and the co-founder of Campaign Zero, a policy platform to end police violence, he lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
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* I tweeted about this encounter and, as it was the first public record of the Five-Second rule, it was later used in the court case Abdullah v. County of Saint Louis, Missouri et al that resulted in the practice being declared unconstitutional.
* The Post and Courier has since changed the title of this article on its website, but the original title can be found on www.pulitzer.org.
* Mapping Police Violence national database, https://mappingpoliceviolence.org.
* Patrick Ball. 2016. “Violence in the Blue.” Granta 134: No Man’s Land; The Online Edition (March 4, 2016), https://granta.com/violence-in-blue.
* Ted R. Miller et al., “Perils of Police Action: A Cautionary Tale from US Data Sets.” Injury Prevention, published online first July 25, 2016. doi: 10.1136/injuryprev-2016-042023.
* Mapping Police Violence national database.
* The Stanford Open Policing Project national database, https://openpolicing.stanford.edu/data.
* Phillip Goff, PhD, Tracey Lloyd, PhD, Amanda Geller, PhD, Steven Raphael, PhD, and Jack Glaser, PhD. 2016. “The Science of Justice—Race, Arrests, and Police Use of Force.” New York: Center for Policing Equity. http://policingequity.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/CPE_SoJ_Race-Arrests-UoF_2016-07-08-1130.pdf (accessed June 19, 2018).
* Mapping Police Violence national database.
* Mapping Police Violence national database.
* Mapping Police Violence national database.
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