Black August

Thank God for rest, reflection, & restoration.

In 2020, though it likely came on my radar prior to then, I took a particular interest in Black August.

The month of August has always had a certain allure to me - as a bookish kid, I loved returning to school; as a doting big brother, I enjoyed celebrating my sister’s birthday; as a dreamer, I basked in the adventures that the month had in store to conclude any given summer.

In the heart of the pandemic, due to informative social media posts, I deepened my knowledge of the history of struggle during August. Prisoners, all of whom are political, in the late twentieth century lifted their voices against such abject mistreatment in America’s criminal legal system; they inspired mass protests and mutual aid networks. I give a particular head nod to the Jackson brothers, probably known best for their association with Dr. Angela Y. Davis, for shifting the political consciousness of many and cementing Black August as a time for commemoration.

In August 2023, I believe I may have met the call of the month in the best way to date.

I started the month at the National Convention of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) in Chicago. Exactly a year before then, I was in the Windy City for a convening of the National Campaign for Police Free Schools. I love Chicago for many reasons - its rich Black history, its solid identity as a union town, and - now - the place I tend to end up for radical conferences each year.

I left the Convention with a renewed zeal to organize with DSA for the long-term. I am grateful for the support that the organization offered me when I ran for office in 2022, and I truly believe DSA represents the best vehicle for delivering a radical shift in the material conditions of the multi-racial working class in America.

The next week, I combined a work trip to Dallas into a visit to see my law school classmate and my old college friends. My college friends have a brilliant four-year-old son - a child who is generous in spirit and inquisitive about the world in a refreshing way. We read The Lorax - admittedly my first time - and I wept with gratitude as we reached the conclusion.

Alongside my niece, and other Black children growing up in the twenty-first century, I know that the better world that we seek to build will be achieved - in part - by this kid.

The next week, I took a vacation and drove to Galveston. Since May 2021, a (roughly) quarterly tradition has unfolded - I go down to the island for a couple nights and take in the restoration of the waves. As I grow older, I am deeply appreciative for moments to pause and reflect on the full wonder of existence.

I closed out the month with a trip to Oklahoma - I give thanks for my sister’s 27 years of life. Two of her friends joined us, and we enjoyed a wonderful dinner in Tulsa. These days, with my niece fully reading and writing, I take in the balanced joy of trips home. I fight for the freedom of Black children through my job; witnessing the pure levity of my niece’s spirit shows me the fruit of my labor in real time.

Many struggles remain in my life; that is inherent in the call of my work. However, I am grateful for what has preceded this moment - occurrences that ultimately helped me claim the labels of socialist & prison abolitionist without apology. During each Black August to come, and across all the days of my life, I intend to recommit to a vision of the future rooted in collectivism - where everyone thrives.