The story of the Civil Rights Movement has centered around the struggle to end legal segregation, voter suppression, and housing discrimination. For good reason, of course. That long fight culminated in landmark victories in the Supreme Court and legislation in Congress ended the system of laws, social practices, and economic restrictions that enforced an apartheid system in the United States.

The Civil Rights Movement’s battle against police abuse, however, has been largely overlooked. Often, we think of those in the Civil Rights Movement as victims of law enforcement misconduct and violence. But in Police Against the Movement, University of Baltimore history professor Joshua Clark Davis reframes that narrative, presenting evidence that the movement tackled police injustice head-on, offering insight into the power of political resistance in the face of government and law enforcement attacks on protest.

Police Against the Movement shows how early civil rights activists set the stage for the Black Lives Matter movement and adds important context to the intimidation, violence, and tragic recent events involving ICE’s ongoing treatment of U.S. residents and activists today.

What prompted you to revisit the Civil Rights era?
I started in 2017 when Black Lives Matter was on the rise. In my previous book, From Head Shops to Whole Foods, I had researched FBI surveillance of Black-owned bookstores. The other thing was, many journalists and commentators were describing BLM as something completely new. Or they’d say BLM [picks up] where the Civil Rights Movement ended or this is the Civil Rights Movement 2.0.

And in Police Against the Movement, you document how the Civil Rights Movement was also calling out and fighting police violence and injustice.
We’ve all seen the horrific footage from Selma, from Birmingham. Those [violent] images are some of the most prominent images of the Civil Rights Movement. The question to me was, “How did the Civil Rights Movement respond to police violence?” You can point back to the Black Panther Party [as far as standing up to police abuse], but what about before the Black Panthers? I learned there was this incredible record of protests and demonstrations at precinct stations, inside police headquarters, campaigns against surveillance, campaigns to monitor and observe the police even before the Black Panther Party had started doing that.

One incredible anecdote about Baltimore, is that police here trained the police attack dogs used in Birmingham.
Yes, and I also wrote a whole side piece for Slate on that a few years ago. Basically, Baltimore’s police department pioneered the canine unit and were evangelical in their zeal to spread the idea to other departments.

Can you explain what you mean by the term “slow violence?”
Slow violence describes non-physical forms of harm carried out by the state that are slow in their execution and their effect. When we think of violence against the movement, we think of billy clubs, beatings, and attack dogs. But we are missing a big piece of the picture because we haven’t adequately considered that local police all over the country, not just the FBI, were inflicting surveillance on civil rights activists, bringing fabricated charges, and specious, trumped-up felony indictments that not only put them in jail, but carried the threat of prison. They carried out forms of character assassination that got people fired from jobs. These things were geared toward political intimidation and chilling political speech. So, slow violence is this umbrella term that covers more sophisticated trickery.

One of the more interesting things you document is these police behaviors against political activists predates the FBI. It begins with local detective “Red Squads” surveilling Socialists, unionists, and Communists in the early 1900s.
Baltimore had one called the Inspectional Services Division. Part of why there isn’t more Baltimore in this book is that it appears the vast majority of records from Baltimore’s Red Squad don’t exist or have been lost or have been destroyed. The only copies I’ve seen show up in an FBI file. So, Baltimore was no exception to this. Every single city had a Red Squad. Some people thought of them as little FBIs. They were political intelligence units designed to ferret out political radicals, though they rarely admitted that out loud after the 1950s. They often said they were concerned with organized crime, but political radicals were their focus.

Part of why they are so important to the story is that they’re the main way police attack civil rights activists, especially outside of the Deep South. Most police departments in the United States realized by the mid-1960s that it was not really going to work to flagrantly, unapologetically brutalize civil rights protesters on camera. They thought, “We’re going have to come up with more sophisticated ways to undermine them and sabotage them.”

Dr. Lisa Cooper wants to make it clear that racism is a public health crisis. The director of Johns Hopkins’ Urban Health Institute and its Center for Health Equity, which both work to document and overcome systemic health disparities, explains that the COVID-19 pandemic and protests surrounding the death of George Floyd are actually related.

“It’s interesting that this epidemic of police brutality against African-American communities is colliding with this health epidemic,” she says. “A lot of people didn’t realize that police brutality is not only a terrible social problem, but it leads to all kinds of other problems.”

Problems like mental health issues, drug addiction, and chronic disease, says Cooper, which begin at a young age.

“It starts with African-American children and the ways that they experience racism in school, that they don’t have opportunities to obtain gainful employment, that they get targeted by law enforcement early in life, which impairs their ability to lead more productive lives,” she says. All of which makes them more likely to get sick.

At this point, it’s well known that both Black and Hispanic people are five times more likely to get COVID-19 than whites, which Cooper largely attributes to systemic racism, with many communities of color lacking necessary social protections, like fresh food access, spacious housing, or paid sick leave.

“And then to top it all off, they have poorer access to healthcare or, in many cases, no health insurance,” she says.

Cooper believes the light being shined on these two crises will ultimately help further her organizations’ missions.

“People are starting to see…it’s all related,” she says. “When you don’t take care of the most vulnerable in your society, you put everyone else at risk.”

If I’m being honest, I have a certain level of anxiety in writing this essay. Putting to paper all of my shortcomings when it comes to combating systemic racism opens me up to criticism. Admitting my outrage without action is just hot air. Just believing Black Lives Matter as some abstract thought isn’t enough. I keep seeing the same message: If you’ve ever wondered what you’d do during slavery, the Holocaust, or the civil-rights movement, you’re doing it now. In my mind, I’m getting arrested at a “sit-in.” In reality, I’m at home with my four children doing my best to home-school and get through a pandemic. Am I not as brave and progressive as I thought?

My kids—Milo, 13, Willa, 11, and Zeke and Gideon, 9—spent their first years of life in Baltimore City. They attended a public charter school that pulled students from every zip code, and our classrooms were filled with students of many different races and economic backgrounds. A few years ago, when we moved just over the line into the county, our kids enrolled at a school that we love, but where we, as Jews, represent one of the few examples of diversity.

We—my husband, Ron, and I—try to teach our kids daily about what’s right and wrong. We talk about the news, never hiding the hard stories. We vote—in person when we can and always dragging our kids along, so they grow up knowing that this is what we do in a democracy. We repeat, over and over, that everyone is loved and welcome and equal in our eyes.

We march, as we did in that first big Women’s March in Washington, D.C., after the last election (and the subsequent smaller ones in Baltimore). We’ve also marched against gun violence and for abortion rights and now we stand in the streets for Black lives. I go for many reasons, but mostly to breathe in—if only metaphorically now through my mask—the air of like-minded people. And make sure that my own voice is heard.

But are we just surface activists? After the BLM march in Roland Park, I posted a picture of my daughter holding her “RACISM IS A PANDEMIC” sign on social media and wrote: “I worry about posting the wrong thing and offending someone. To post #blackouttuesday or not. To attend a mostly white protest in support of racial justice or not. But then I thought, if I do nothing else but show my daughter that we don’t sit idly by when we see our fellow humankind hurting, that’s enough.”

But let’s be honest. That’s not enough.

It’s time for the tough conversations and self-reflection.

It’s time for the tough conversations and self-reflection. My kids are my opportunity to do better.

I think about reaching out to my friend, Tanika White Davis, a Black mom who has twin boys a year older than mine and an 8-year old daughter, but then I see she has posted her newest Sun parenting column, “No Sage Words for This Moment in History.”

“It is all just too much,” she writes. “And I am exhausted from feeling all of it, all at once.” How do I put my burden on her after reading this? “I know I should have more to say,” her column continues. “But I am no sage. I am just a mother of three Black children, trying to protect them. You’ll forgive me then if I spend what’s left of my energy doing just that.”

I want to say to her: “Help me help you.” But that just feels like extra work for her. (Though she later scolds me: “You know you can always reach out to me.”)

Instead, I reach out to Traci Wright, dean of students at The Park School of Baltimore in Brooklandville. We talk about race and privilege and kids. Wright leads the school’s formative Civil Rights trip, now in its 16th year, that takes students and faculty from Park, Baltimore City College High School, and City Neighbors High School on a tour of the South. From Atlanta to Birmingham to Montgomery to Little Rock to Selma, they visit sites and meet people who were instrumental during the 1960s movement for racial equality.

“They learn the importance of speaking up and being involved,” says Wright. One of the local stops is the Hampton National Historic Site in Towson, a vast 18th-century estate that still has its original stone slave quarters, which she suggests I visit with my kids for a guided tour. “They do a phenomenal job of helping kids understand the system of slavery,” says Wright. “No one is born a slave.”

Wright is full of wisdom and suggestions and kindness toward my jumble of questions. She forwards me a piece on NPR’s the Hidden Brain about how it’s more important to change the way that a community thinks about race and racial bias than it is to focus on one individual person. She tells me to read “75 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice” on Medium and says she even learned things from that article that she, as a Black woman, should be doing.

I tell her about the “inclusive parents versus anti-racist parents” post from Curious Parenting, a caregiver online community, that I keep seeing shared by friends. In one example, an inclusive parent makes sure their child’s library is racially diverse. An anti-racist parent intentionally includes books that go beyond slavery and the civil rights movement to include reads on ballerina Misty Copeland or NASA mathematician Katherine Johnson or poet Maya Angelou. I realize that I fall into the former category.

Wright emphasizes that it’s important for students—hers at Park and mine at their Baltimore County public schools—to feel empowered. “It’s up to the adults to create a culturally relevant curriculum,” she says. And what is culturally relevant? Well, if you live in Baltimore, says Wright, “just open your eyes” and look around. That includes teaching about both current events and history in a real and truthful way.

In addition to Wright, I speak with Mark Riding, a high-school English teacher at the all-girls Maryvale Preparatory School in Lutherville, where he is the only Black faculty member.

“I’m not an expert, but I am a passionate educator,” he tells me. There have been only a handful of Black teachers in the school’s 70-year history. “The students are overwhelmingly white,” says Riding, the father of two teenagers. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, even more since the upheaval happened: How can I bring a fresh perspective to a community that is sorely lacking that [Black] perspective?” Despite some pushback over the years, Riding has always made it a priority to amplify the histories and lessons of the marginalized, from feminism to the Black voice.

This spring, he saved for last the Harlem Renaissance—the artistic explosion of Black culture in New York in the 1920s—and ended up having to teach it virtually. But he and his students still got in deep about why there needed to be a renaissance in the first place. And they also talked about the intersection of race and gender. “No matter what racial or ethnic background, you are marginalized for being a woman,” Riding told them.

Where do I go from here? I don’t write this to feel better about myself.

The final assignment was to write a poem exploring their own differences. Riding was surprised and impressed to see topics ranging from religion to sexuality to racial disparities. “Everyone has knots in their ropes,” he says. But recognizing that helps you “understand other people’s knots.” That’s a difficult concept even for adults, he says.

Riding told me, “I wanted to expose these girls to the dark, scary, disgusting history” of the Black struggle. But also, what came out of the struggle: music, poetry, stories, and the civil rights movement.

Wright says she’s been energized to see “the far corners of the state” reacting to this moment, as well. There are BLM marches in Harford County and on the Eastern Shore.

“People are seeing these issues as their own,” she says. “They’re becoming everyone’s issues. When people are marginalized, we are all marginalized.” Kids see that—sometimes more than parents—and are responding.

I tell Wright I have great expectations for my kids, as Jews, a group that has faced its own marginalization and decimation. Our house is filled with books about the Holocaust, we’ve visited the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., we’ve listened to survivor stories, and we feel it deeply and personally when a synagogue is under attack or a group of white supremacists are called “very fine people.”

Wright understands the connection I’m trying to make. “You have experienced other-ing and genocide,” she says. “The Holocaust happened not even on our soil.” But there is an outrage surrounding violence against Jews that isn’t always extended to Blacks, she notes. Wright recommends finding books on coalitions between Blacks and Jews to make this even more relatable to my children. “What is the history here in terms of people coming together?” she poses. “Baltimore is a segregated city. We live in our own pockets. We don’t really socialize. How can we bring people together?”

I’ve been thinking about that a lot. It came up in a conversation on Father’s Day. We (me, my husband, my own mom and dad) were sitting around the table discussing the BLM movement. My mother is 71 years old and, still, this movement has awakened her in new ways. As a first step of what she hopes will be many more steps, she just became a member of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. “Wouldn’t you want every person to walk through Jewish museums to better understand our plight and resilience and culture?” I say to my mom. “I would guess the same is true for that museum.” We’ll go together as soon as we can, I tell her.

Prior to this moment, and this movement, I’m not sure we would have had this conversation. And that’s what I have witnessed more and more—the conversations. “Can this happen in schools?” I ask Wright. “Public schools are more racially and socio-economically diverse,” she says. (And while that might not be true for our elementary school, it certainly is at Dumbarton Middle School, which my oldest attends.) “Public school is real life,” she says.

It’s the place where you are together with people who look different from you. It should be the best place for listening and sharing and growing.

Wright acknowledges that the conversations about institutional racism are not easy for anyone to begin. But it’s our jobs as parents to foster relationships, she says, whether it’s making sure we are on sports teams that are diverse or forming a book or movie club with families that create a safe space for honest questions and discussions.

“Initially, it will likely feel forced,” says Wright. “But we have to work harder to combat the systems of oppression. It’s okay if it makes you feel nervous or uncomfortable because the more we talk about it, the more it becomes second nature. It’s retraining our brains to see what we’ve been missing all along.”

In the days that follow, I spend a long time scrolling through posts on the Anti-Racist/Social Justice Parenting Discussion Group on Facebook that I joined during the heat of the protests. There are virtual events (the Reginald F. Lewis Museum’s African American Children’s Book Fair), town halls (“How to Raise and Teach Anti-Racist Kids,” hosted by author Kwame Alexander), and fundraising ideas. I can’t do it all, but I can start somewhere. I sign up for Zoom calls about raising socially conscious children, and I order Jason Reynolds’s and Ibram X. Kendi’s Stamped: Racism, Antiracisim and You and Veronica Chambers’s Resist: 35 Profiles of Ordinary People Who Rose Up Against Tyranny and Injustice.

Where do I go from here? I do not write this to feel better about myself, or to say that Googling or reading or even protesting makes me a social-justice warrior mom. But I do understand that there is a time to talk and a time to listen. A time to teach and a time to be taught. My kids are watching me and all my actions. We, as a family, need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. We need to hold ourselves accountable.

I promise that we will.

EAT

June 21: Father’s Day Crabs

Knotty Pine. 801 S Conkling St. 2-6 p.m.

What better way is there to celebrate dad this year than with some good old-fashioned Maryland crabs? This weekend, Knotty Pine will be selling crabs by the dozen and half dozen for the whole family to enjoy on Father’s Day. The Canton neighborhood pub will also be selling steamed corn and pounds of shrimp to round out the feast. And don’t forget to toast to Dad with a boozy Orange or Grapefruit Crush.

DRINK

June 19-20: Oliver Brewing Co. Triple Beer Release

Oliver Brewing Company. 4216 Shannon Dr.

This weekend, Oliver Brewing Company is dropping two new beers and bringing back its fan-favorite “This Floor is Snakes” double IPA. The brewers teamed up with their friends at Donut Shack in Severna Park to create “Chop Suey,” a blonde ale featuring apple cider, vanilla, and cinnamon that pairs perfectly with Donut Shack’s Chop Suey apple-cinnamon fritters. The “S’more or Less” imperial stout will have you ready for campfire season with hints of graham cracker, chocolate, and marshmallow. The new brews will be available for pickup on Friday, and on Saturday, guests can crack open their ice-cold cans while soaking up the sun in the outdoor area.

SEE

June 19: Juneteenth Double Feature

Times and prices vary.

Amid the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement in the wake of George Floyd’s death, Juneteenth—the holiday commemorating African-American freedom and achievement—holds a strong significance this year. Among the many ways to honor the holiday is with this double feature screening by Charm City Classics. All you need is a Netflix account and the Netflix Party application to stream Roger Guenveur Smith’s one-man show, Rodney King, followed by 13th, a documentary analyzing the criminalization of African Americans. Head to their Facebook page shortly before the screening to join the watch party.

HEAR

June 20: World Refugee Day Benefit Concert

Facebook Live. 12-2 p.m. Free.

Join Creative Alliance in celebrating our refugee, asylee, and immigrant neighbors through live music. Local performers will take the virtual stage, and host and community arts liaison Ari Pluznik will interview refugee service providers to learn more about the crucial care they supply. Consider making a donation to help support Mera Kitchen Collective, which has been working tirelessly to serve free meals to communities in need throughout the pandemic. (Read more about Mera’s work in our July issue, on newsstands June 26.)

DO

June 19: Say Her Name: March for Black Women and Femme Survivors

The Ynot Lot. 1904 N Charles St. 4-7p.m.

On Juneteenth, head to the Ynot Lot in Station North to honor the life of Black Lives Matter activist Oluwatoyin Salau, who was tragically killed earlier this month at the age of 19. Local organizers with Black Womyn Rising, Not Without Black Women, and Amorous Ebony are all working together to create a space for Black women and femme survivors of sexual violence to unite and voice their demands.

Recognized by most African Americans as Freedom Day, Juneteenth honors the date that more than 200,000 Black men, women, and children were freed in Texas 155 years ago. Throughout the decades, the holiday has become understood as a day of liberation and celebration for all African Americans, commemorated with a feast of red foods and drinks symbolizing perseverance in bondage.

This year, as the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement spreads across the nation, and protestors continue to demonstrate locally in Baltimore, the day seems to hold a stronger significance.

A petition is currently underway to declare Juneteenth a national holiday. Its roots date back to 1865—roughly five months after the 13th Amendment abolished the institution of slavery. Though Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation was finalized two years prior, it wasn’t acknowledged in Texas until June 19, 1865.

Experts say that, originally, there were a number of elaborate Emancipation Day celebrations held all over the country, but during the radical reconstruction era of the late 1860s, laws were put into place that made these celebrations illegal.

“They really snuffed out those celebrations that were equivalent to what we would call Memorial Day or like a Fourth of July,” says Morgan State University archivist Dr. Ida Jones. She believes that, because Juneteenth doesn’t receive the same widespread awareness as other American holidays, it is of the utmost importance to recognize it today. “Everything that we’re doing now is facilitated by that which happened before.”

Some experts say that Black Lives Matter, a movement in response to police brutality and systemic racism, is a direct result of the country’s attempt to bury its past.

“The idea of Juneteenth permeates Black America as this Black holiday that survived that experience,” Jones says, “and commemorates itself outside of the federal and state government.”

While James Calvin, interim director of the Center for Africana Studies at Johns Hopkins University, agrees with Jones, he also believes that, in order for the movement to progress, non-Black Americans and predominantly white institutions must acknowledge the country’s past in relation to its present.

“Those issues of freedom are still with us on a number of levels,” Calvin says. “If we think of the movement as it continues forward, one of the things that is important is how whiteness intersects with what it means to be Black in America.”

Vedet Coleman-Robinson, executive director of the Association of African American Museums (AAAM) , says that part of the reason why Juneteenth isn’t as mainstream as other national holidays is because of lack of exposure. She learned about the holiday in middle school and later in college, but often had to seek out Juneteenth celebrations on her own.

“Like much of our history, Juneteenth was not mainstream or pushed in mainstream media,” she says. “If you aren’t exposed to at least a piece of the celebration, it’s history or origin, then you are left to only know about the Fourth of July celebration.”

AAAM is based in Washington, D.C., but works with and advocates for African and African American- focused museums such as the Reginald F. Lewis Museum, The Peale Center for Baltimore History and Architecture, and local universities. Currently, they are assisting with promoting virtual events for Juneteenth due to coronavirus concerns.

So, for African Americans and allies alike looking for ways to celebrate in Baltimore, we’ve rounded up some of the many Juneteenth events that are social-distance approved:

6/18: Virtual Storytime: Freedom Bird
The Reginald F. Lewis Museum is kicking off its Juneteenth celebration with a reading of Freedom Bird: A Tale of Hope and Courage with author Jerdine Nolen. The folktale centers around an enslaved brother and sister who, guided by a mysterious bird, escape to freedom. Because the museum is currently closed to the public, the reading will take place online. The uplifting picture book is appropriate for all ages. 1:00 p.m.-2 p.m.

6/19: Juneteenth Baltimore Freedom Fest
Secure your a mask and join this youth-led march from Penn North to Druid Hill Park to honor the contributions and significance of the city’s Black history. The event will conclude with a celebration at Druid Hill Park featuring Black-owned food trucks, youth poets, musicians, and speakers.

6/19: The Juneteenth Jubilee
The Boonie Breakdown and The Sneaker Exhibit are encouraging Baltimore residents to celebrate the holiday by supporting Black-owned businesses and eateries in several locations around the city. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, the organization isn’t able to do a traditional crawl, but participants are encouraged to visit each business while adhering to social distancing guidelines and wearing a mask. For those who prefer not to leave their homes, the organizations have compiled a list of Black-owned online businesses and service providers. 12 p.m.-4 p.m.

6/19: BMoreFree Juneteenth Cookout
In true Juneteenth fashion, the annual BMoreFree Juneteenth Cookout will celebrate Black culture in the city with food, music, giveaways, and more. Participants are encouraged to bring lawn chairs, blankets, and positive energy to the family-friendly event. Towanda Park, 4100 Towanda Ave., 4 p.m., Free

6/19: Inspire Juneteenth Celebration
Join community leaders Andrea Jones, Sara Wolfe, and Antoynica Ryan for a Juneteenth cookout. Volunteers and donations of any kind are encouraged, and face masks are a must. To adhere to social distancing and state guidelines, the cookout will be hosted outside of the old Dr. Lillie M. Jackson Building with free food and fun. 1511 Ashburtin St., 4 p.m.-7 p.m., Free

6/19: Arena Players’ Juneteenth Virtual Celebration & Discussion

Baltimore’s oldest African American community theater is hosting a Zoom discussion to encourage solution-oriented dialogue about activism in the Black community. Arena Players actors, directors, playwrights, and supporters are encouraged to attend the event and participate in the discussion. A Facebook Live event will follow with a Juneteenth presentation featuring musical performances, drumming, and monologues. 3 p.m.-9 p.m., Free

6/19: Juneteenth Double Feature
For those interested in a Juneteenth-inspired movie night, the Charm City Classics Company is hosting a virtual double feature of films Rodney King and 13th as part of their #QuarantineandChill Film Festival. All you need to do is log into Netflix Party—a quarantine favorite—and tune in starting at 8 p.m. The organizers encourage participants to only use the chat to share resources and instead, focus all energy on the films being shown. 8 p.m.-11:00 p.m.

6/20: Juneteenth Art Bazaar
Dovecote Cafe’s annual Juneteenth Art Bazaar will return this year with a virtual twist to encourage social distancing. The online event will showcase art, a freedom playlist, cookout recipes, and more.

For even more celebrations, check out the post below:

Two-hundred-plus demonstrators calling for cuts to the Baltimore Police Department (BPD) budget, and a reallocation of BPD funding to other agencies, marched to City Hall Friday afternoon with several protestors painting “Defund the Police” in large, block lettering on Gay Street.

Protest organizers, including local grassroots group Organizing Black, said they set the time and place of the rally to send a message to the City Council as they began their virtual budget hearings Friday afternoon. Among those attending the budget hearing was Police Commissioner Michael Harrison, along with other officials.

“The police budget increases every year, and every year, there’s more crime,” Taz Gaines, with Organizing Black, told reporters as the street painting got underway. “Why are we still increasing funding? We should be taking away funding and adding it to education and housing. It’s not just about defunding the police, but reinvesting that money back into the city.”

Marchers met at Baltimore’s Central Booking and Intake Center at 3 p.m. Friday before walking the roughly 10 blocks to City Hall, where they met other demonstrators. Other groups partnering in the rally included Baltimore Bloc and CASA.

Throughout the past 30 years, the BPD’s budget has tripled while Baltimore City Recreation & Parks funding has remained nearly flat.

According to a 2017 Fiscal Year study by the Center for Popular Democracy, which was published by Forbes last week, Baltimore has the highest level of per resident policing, by far, of any large city in the country.

With a city operating budget of $2.6 billion that year, $480.7 million was dedicated to policing in Baltimore. That represented 18.2 percent of Baltimore’s total operating budget, which equates to $772—the highest level in the report by far—per person on policing, a figure more than double that of Los Angeles, for example.

Recent Morgan State University graduates Chrissy Okemkpa and Taylor Boykin attended the rally in front of City Hall. Both said it was important for them to be present given the recent protests against police brutality in the wake of the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, as well as the subsequent calls to shift police funding to other functions that benefit the community—which they believe is needed.

“It’s not enough for people to just be on social media and say they support something,” Okemkpa said. “We wanted to be here. We wanted be present. That’s how you show you support the movement and calls for reform and changes.”

She continued: “We went to school in the city. We’re both from Baltimore, and the city spends too much money on policing—we see it. There’s a lot of inequities that need to be addressed—public health, food desserts—and yes, police brutality.”

Boykin also highlighted the need to shift the police department spending elsewhere.

“Education definitely needs more money,” said Boykin, who mentioned a need for more recreation centers and after-school, weekend, and summer opportunities for city students.

Michaela Brown, one of the Organizing Black leaders, said the group is demanding that 50 percent of the police department’s budget be redirected to infrastructure, education, housing, health care, and social services.

She also said they were calling for the repeal of Law Enforcement Officers’ Bill of Rights (LEOBOR), which can hinder investigations into allegations of police violence. Police supervisors, for example, may not question their officers for 10 days following an incident report.

City Council members met virtually last week to review the $3 billion operating budget put forth by Mayor Bernard C. “Jack” Young for the next fiscal year, which is scheduled for a vote on Monday. Young’s proposal would give the Baltimore Police Department a budget of $550 million, which is roughly 20 percent of the entire city budget and an increase of around $21 million.

Council members can negotiate funding priorities with Young and his administration, but they only make cuts to the proposal and cannot increase spending in any one area.

A perennial problem with the police budget is the roughly $40-$50 million that is spent each year on overtime. Police Commissioner Harrison said he is determined to do better, and he demonstrated that by decreasing overtime costs by about $5 million in the last year. He also eliminated vacant positions and generated savings through reduced legal settlements.

More cuts, Harrison warned, will “have very serious consequences,” such as longer response times and more unsolved crimes.

Even before recent protests, Young described the fiscal 2021 budget process, which goes into effect in July, as “incredibly difficult,” given projected revenue decreases because of the COVID-19-related economic shutdown.

“Every City and county in the country are facing difficult budgetary decisions, and Baltimore is no different,” Young said last month when he released his budget outline. “What sets us apart, however, is the fact that even in the face of financial pressures, our commitment to our children and families is rock solid. The budget I presented makes very clear that Baltimore values its children, older adults, and most vulnerable residents.”

Earlier Friday morning, hours prior to the march and rally at City Hall, other protesters met outside the South Baltimore rowhouse of City Councilman Eric Costello, the chairman of the council’s budget and appropriations committee, calling for him to cut police spending and redirect the funding to other urgent needs. Costello responded by phoning—and apparently expressing anger toward—a local parent of one of the photojournalists covering the protest.

Costello later issued an issued an apology for his actions.

Editor’s Note: After this piece was published, Hotel Revival’s Virtual Happy Hour scheduled for Friday, June 12 was unexpectedly cancelled.

EAT

June 14: Bake Sale for Black Lives Matter

Peabody Heights Brewery. 401 E 30th St. 1-4 p.m.

This weekend, you can quell sweet-tooth cravings while supporting the Black Lives Matter movement. The Charm City Night Market is partnering with Peabody Heights Brewery to raise money for two local organizations including Black Yield Institute, a Cherry Hill-based initiative that works to end food apartheid, as well as the Baltimore Action Legal Team, which provides legal support to those protesting against racial injustice. Chef Cai Lindeman from Noona’s will be running the sale at the brewery with options from local favorites including Codetta Bake Shop, Bramble Baking Co., Dutch Courage, Black Rock Orchard, Red Emma’s, and True Chesapeake Oyster Co. To limit contact at the bake sale, you can buy virtual vouchers in advance to redeem for your goodies of choice. If you can’t make it out, donations are also being accepted online.

DRINK

June 12: Hotel Revival Virtual Happy Hour

Instagram Live. 5-7 p.m. Free.

After a long week, there is no better way to unwind than with your favorite summer cocktail or an ice-cold beer. While we’d love to enjoy our drink of choice in-person at Hotel Revival’s upstairs garden bar, tuning in to this virtual happy hour from your cozy couch or breezy porch is still a worthy way to start your weekend. Head to the Mount Vernon hotel’s Facebook or Instagram account to bump along to beats spun by DJ Trillnatured and turn your living room into a dance party of your own.

SEE

June 12-21: Maryland Film Festival’s Virtual Fest

Times and prices vary.

For all of the film buffs and cinephiles out there—this Friday the Maryland Film Festival is bringing the big screen to you. Although the Parkway Theatre is temporarily closed due to COVID-19, the show must go on, and this year the annual movie event is going virtual. Unlock access to 17 feature films and 15 short films or browse the website and buy individual tickets to the movies you know you can’t miss. TT the artist’s Dark City Beneath the Beat will kick off the festival and explore Baltimore City through its club music and dance scene. Don’t forget the popcorn!

HEAR

June 12: Lafayette Gilchrist Trio Streaming Concert

7 p.m. $5.

There’s nothing like listening to live music, especially when it’s coming from acclaimed pianist and local legend Lafayette Gilchrist. This Friday, An Die Musik will stream a performance by Gilchrist alongside his jazzy trio as a part of the venue’s quarantine concert series. The group will be previewing their new album Now, ahead of its October release. Get your tickets and listen to Gilchrist and his fellow musicians use their instruments to confront social issues, such as police brutality and wealth gaps, affecting Baltimore.

DO

June 13-14: Virtual HonFest

11-4 p.m. Free.

Not everyone’s got what it takes to be one of Baltimore’s Best Hons, but if you’re fluent in Bawlmerese and no stranger to a wash-and-set hairdo, you may just get the gold. This annual festival honors the working women of America, but especially the working women of our cherished Charm City. No need to go downy Hampden, hon—this year the competition is virtual. Don your Bawlmer fashion and snap a picture to share on social media using the hashtags #HONfest2020 and #SaferatHomeHON to have your shot at local fame. Just remember, the higher the hair the closer to god.

Several hundred high school students marched from the Baltimore School for the Arts to the Baltimore City Public Schools headquarters Wednesday afternoon, demanding curriculum changes and full support for the Black Lives Matter movement from local and state school leaders.

Organized by the students—mainly from the city’s acclaimed school for the arts, but also those from other schools—speakers called on the head of city schools, Dr. Sonja Santelises—who was in attendance—and state school superintendent Dr. Karen Salmon to, “outline the ways in which their organizations will work to be anti-racist and pro-black from now on.”

“Our country is in crisis, and it has been for 400 years,” said 16-year-old Mahsati “Sunny” Moorhead, who is finishing her junior year at the Baltimore School for the Arts this spring, reading from a prepared statement. “We implore the leaders of Maryland State Department of Education and Baltimore City Public Schools to be on the right side of history and make the necessary changes to begin to dismantle the long held white supremacist ideology running so rampant within their own organizations.”

Among the specific demands from students was a more inclusive English reading curriculum, including works by Zora Neale Thurston, Toni Morrison, and Malcolm X. They also demanded social studies lessons that cover the history of white supremacy in the United States, as well units on successful black political revolutions and the role of black women in the American civil rights movement.

“The problem is we don’t see African Americans represented in our history classes or in our English classes—people who look like us,” Moorhead, who is black, later told us. “We read The Great Gatsby and The Awakening, but nothing that we can relate to or relates to ur experience.”

Students also seek an increase in mental health awareness and services for students and staff. They also called on the overwhelming black Baltimore school district to employ a higher percentage of black social workers and counselors.

The noon march from the Baltimore School for the Arts took demonstrators through closed city streets in Mount Vernon and Station North before reaching the school headquarters. Protestors gathered at the steps, kneeling for an eight-minute, 46-second period of silence to honor George Floyd, who died while having his neck pinned to the ground for that exact amount of time by Minneapolis police officers last month.

The two-hour march and rally included several musical, singing, and dance performances. But the focus was on the message delivered by several student speakers, notably Moorhead, who presented the students’ list of demands.

Baltimore activist Kwame Rose, 26—who has been present during the recent city protests, as he was in 2015 following the death of Freddie Gray from injuries suffered while in police custody—praised students for pushing for social and educational change.

“I think it’s important for every adult here to listen to their demands,” Rose told the crowd. “I know protesting is important to secure space to highlight the issues.”

It’s also important to work for tangible goals, Rose added, encouraging those in attendance to pay attention to budgets and email the mayor, City Council members, and school officials to advocate for increased funding for schools. Rose noted that, when he went to school, classrooms were often crowded, short of textbooks, and sometimes without air conditioning.

“There is no reason why Baltimore City police officers should make more than Baltimore City schoolteachers,” Rose said.

Santelises said she supported the students and young people advocating for, “the kind of education they want and deserve.”

She also highlighted the city school systems “BMore Me” curriculum designed to increase student engagement by focusing on Baltimore’s current events and history.

“The students are impatient to see change. We’re all impatient to see change,” Santelises said. “But I’m here listening today.”

As demonstrators continue to take to the streets to demand justice for George Floyd and other victims of police violence, many are feeling helpless and unsure of how to show support.

One of the many ways to take action is to be conscious about spending money at local black-owned businesses. Especially in the wake of COVID-19—which caused the number of working African-American business owners to plummet 40 percent, according to the Washington Post—it’s a tangible way to support the black community while also working to achieve racial equity and better distribute wealth.

While it’s important to patronize black-led restaurants, cafes, bars, bakeries, and farms on any day, here are a few to familiarize yourself with if you’re looking for a way to show support right now.

Berries By Quicha: With locations in Federal Hill and Medford, this sweets shop from owner LaQuicha Brown specializes in chocolate-covered strawberries that can be customized for special occasions.

Black Yield Institute: Led by founder Eric Jackson, this Cherry Hill-based collective works tirelessly to address food apartheid in Baltimore City. In the wake of the coronavirus, Jackson and his team continue to organize produce distribution from the Cherry Hill Urban Garden and many other community farms.

Blacksauce Kitchen: Chef Damian Mosley has developed a die-hard following with his buttermilk biscuit sandwiches filled with everything from fried chicken to cider-braised pork with onion jam. Normally you’d be able to spot the line from a mile away at the Baltimore Farmers Market, but in the wake of its cancelation, Mosley has shifted to offering parking lot pickups in Remington on weekends.

Blondie’s Doughnuts: Owner Michelle Diggs slings her scratch-made brioche doughnuts in flavors such as lemon meringue, chai-spiced sugar, strawberries and cream, Jamaican rum custard, and raspberry swirl. Catch her at the Cross Street Farmers Market on Saturday mornings.

Breaking Bread: The Pigtown cafe from husband-and-wife owners Edward and Kimberly Ellis lives up to its name with a menu of comforting burgers, pasta and potato salads, and famous sticky wings.

Cajou Creamery: Husband-and-wife owners Dwight Campbell and Nicole Foster are offering contact-free “porch drops” of their plant-based ice cream pints throughout the pandemic. Must-try flavors include cheesecake, baklava, and horchata.

Connie’s Chicken and Waffles: The fan-favorite chicken-and-waffles spot—run by brothers Shawn and Khari Parker and their mother, the restaurant’s namesake, Connie—are offering pickup and delivery from their Broadway Market location in Fells Point.

Crust by Mack: The very soon-to-open brick-and-mortar stall inside Hampden’s Whitehall Mill will offer chef Amanda Mack’s scratch-made cookies, cakes, hand pies, and more.

Creole Soul Restaurant: This R. House stall takes diners on a trip to New Orleans courtesy of chef Que Neal and her fiancé, co-founder Dedric Richardson. Menu highlights include authentic gumbo, blackened catfish, sweet potato and kale soup, and “Grandma’s Ole’ Fashion Southern Mac.”

Dovecote Cafe: Though this beloved Reservoir Hill haven—whose mission has always been “community first, cafe second”—remains closed throughout the pandemic, you can show your support for the cafe’s team and their many food justice initiatives by purchasing gift cards to use in the future.

Ekiben: Co-owner Ephrem Abebe prepares beloved steamed buns and rice bowls for the shop’s loyal fans. Carryout orders can be placed online at both the Hampden and Fells Point locations.

Freakin Sweet Jars: Husband-and-wife team Jaheel and Renate Garrett pack tons of flavor into their delectable dessert jars. They’re offering their signature parfaits—which come in featured flavors like Pineapple Crush Cake, banana pudding, and Key Lime pie—for delivery and pickup from Natasha’s Just Brittle on Harford Road.

Gangster Vegan Organics: Featuring vegan salads, bowls, burgers, and snacks, this Cross Street Market stall offers delivery via Uber Eats Thursday through Sunday from 1-8 p.m.

Granny’s Restaurant: The Owings Mills location of this family-run restaurant—which pays homage to its namesake, Lessie Wainwright, more lovingly known as “Granny”—is open for carryout and delivery Monday through Sunday.

Home Maid: The homey Key Highway brunch spot created by Derrick Faulcon offers curbside pickup Friday-Sunday.

Ida B’s Table: Named after pioneering investigative journalist and civil rights advocate Ida B. Wells, this modern soul food restaurant—a venture from The Real News Network—currently offers curbside pickup and delivery via Doordash, Grubhub, and Uber Eats.

Just Call Me Chef: Chef Catina Smith founded this culinary movement, which empowers female chefs of color through mentorship, networking, and education. Smith and four other chefs are currently offering special Father’s Day cookout menus that are available for pickup June 20. You also support the efforts by donating, here.

Koba Cafe: For 15 years, owner Adama Fall has been serving up coffee, all-day breakfast, and other cafe fare at his bright neighborhood spot in Riverside.

The Land of Kush: Locals rave about the vegan crab cakes and dairy-free mac and cheese at this soul food eatery near the University of Maryland Medical Center’s Midtown campus. Throughout the years, owners Greg Brown and Naijha Wright-Brown have become trusted leaders in the plant-based community.

Le Monade: Chef Carleen Goodridge, who has familial connections to Harriet Tubman, named her small-batch drink mix startup as a nod to how her son used to pronounce “lemonade.” She also operates a Liberian pop-up, Cōl Bōl, sharing recipes passed down throughout the generations.

Lemontopia: Thirteen-year-old Jamaria Crump continues to set an example for young entrepreneurs by selling her specialty lemonades (flavors include original, watermelon, and lavender blueberry ) and baked goods.

Love Puddin’: Catch Denisha “Dawn” Hightower in her mobile pudding van to savor butter crunch, strawberry cheesecake, and classic “Dirt” pudding cups, as well as other treats.

Magdalena: Owned by husband-and-wife team Eddie and Sylvia Brown, this fine-dining den inside the boutique Ivy Hotel in Mt. Vernon offers seasonal plates that explore all cultures.

Midnite Confections Cupcakery: Mother-son team Sandra and Aaron McNeil whip up 12 daily cupcake flavors at their Federal Hill bakery, which currently offers carryout, delivery, and catering. The namesake “Midnite” cupcake tops chocolate cake with a chocolate buttercream frosting and features a chocolate chip cream cheese inside.

Miss Carter’s Kitchen: Endorsed by Lamar Jackson, chef Cia Carter’s soul food concept is known for its Instagram-worthy seafood pastas and fried fish platters.

Neopol Savory Smokery: Dorian Brown and his mother and business partner, Barbara Lahnstein, are offering online ordering for diners to dig in to their famous smoked spreads, fish, and salmon BLTs. They also offer a weekly dinner special for two.

Next Phaze Cafe: The Lexington Street hub is open for curbside pickup and delivery, with dishes including catfish tacos, crab cakes, and crispy chicken sandwiches with red pepper sauce.

Off the Rox: At their Highlandtown liquor store, co-owners Jeryl Cole and Tyrekia Jackson feature a vast selection of local beer, wine, and spirits, as well as beers on tap for growler fills.

Old Major: Not only does owner Candice Bruno serve great food and drinks at her Pigtown neighborhood bar, but she’s also turned it into a hub for community fundraisers, donation drives, game nights, and live music performances. While the bar remains closed throughout the pandemic, regulars can’t wait to enjoy all of the programming when it reopens.

Papi Cuisine: Private chef and caterer Alex Perez recently opened his first brick-and- mortar restaurant in Fells Point. Try the droolworthy mac and cheese, jumbo lump crab cakes, or “Snow Cone” cocktails, all available to-go.

Pure Chocolate by Jinji: Jinji Fraser and her father, Guy, share their dairy-free, gluten-free chocolates that are produced without any refined sugar. The treats are sold at the flagship stall in Belvedere Square as well as many other markets and coffee shops around town.

Refocused Vegan: Owner Jerel Jefferies is offering his vegan bacon cheeseburgers, mac and cheese, truffle fries, and other lauded dishes for curbside pickup and delivery. Be sure to try some of the restaurant’s colorful to-go cocktails to wash down all of the eats.

SoBeachy Haitian Cuisine: Husband-and-wife owners Chanel and Leo Fleurimond are offering to-go orders from their stall inside Cross Street Market Wednesday through Saturday. Enjoy traditional Haitian dishes such as simmered oxtail, whole red snapper, fried codfish sandwiches, and, of course, the boozy rum punch.

Sophomore Coffee: Co-founder Kris Fultion is one of the most knowledgeable baristas around. At his cozy Old Goucher shop, he pours the likes of Thread and Partners coffee blends—educating patrons with every cup.

Shareef’s Grill: With locations in East and West Baltimore, as well as a new sister spot on Liberty Road in Randallstown, this one-stop-shop for Halal wraps and rotisserie wings takes a healthier approach to typical carryout fare. The Belair Road location even has a juice bar attached.

Sporty Dog Creations: Mother-daughter duo LaShauna Jones and Daejonne Bennett craft hot dogs that appeal to all palates, from classic ballpark to vegan and chicken franks.

Strength 2 Love Farm II: This Sandtown-Winchester farm works to combat food deserts while also creating job opportunities. The vacant plot-turned-working farm primarily grows leafy greens, as well as okra, peppers, cucumbers, squash, radishes, beets, and flowers.

Sunset Raw Juice Bar: Owned by former Ravens player Gerrard Sheppard and his family, this go-to located in the Foundry Row development in Owings Mills offers a wide selection of cold-pressed juices, smoothies, cleanses, and acai bowls.

Taste This Baltimore: Since opening in 2015, diners have raved about the stuffed salmon, honey Old Bay wings, and other drool worthy dishes at Taste This, which now operates locations in Charles Village and Hamilton-Lauraville.

Teavolve: Owner Sunni Gilliam’s serene cafe took root in Harbor East long before all of the high-rises towered over the neighborhood. Order teas, smoothies, croissant sandwiches, salads, and more online during the pandemic.

Terra Café: This Charles Village staple from owner Terence Dickson has proudly served the community with great food and plenty of live music for more than 10 years. Comfort dishes include shrimp and grits, fish and waffles, and omelets of all flavors. Terra Café is offering delivery via UberEats Monday-Thursday from 8 a.m.-9 p.m., Friday and Saturday from 8 a.m.-11 p.m., and 10 a.m.-7 p.m. on Sunday.

Taharka Brothers Ice Cream: Though we do love the addictive ice cream flavors (the honey graham will change your life), the most important aspect of this homegrown business is its commitment to social justice reform. Through various initiatives, the dessert wholesaler—which also operates retail shops at R. House and Broadway Market—uses its ice cream as a mechanism to spark change.

The Urban Oyster: Chef Jasmine Norton has been getting creative at her Locust Point seafood spot, rolling out special menus exploring flavors from New Orleans to the tropics. Place carryout orders Thursday through Sunday.

Union Craft Brewing: Co-founder Kevin Blodger also serves as the director of brewing operations at this homegrown facility. Though the Union Collective taproom and patio remains closed, you can order to-go beers for delivery and pickup directly from the brewery’s website.

Vagrant Coffee: After years in the United States Marine Corps, private security world, and working as a member of the clergy, Josh Dew pivoted to open this local roastery with co-founder Jared Cate in 2017. The operation has since expanded to include three retail shops across the city, including Milk & Honey Market in Station North, 3 Bean Coffee on Key Highway, and the 1100 Wicomico building in Pigtown. Milk & Honey and 3 Bean are currently open for carryout and accepting online preorders.

Serenity Wine Cafe: At this neighborhood haunt in Locust Point, diners go for the serve-yourself wine taps, but stay for the oven-fired pizzas.

Sunnyside Cafe: Order carryout or delivery from this East Baltimore favorite, which features an extensive lineup of breakfast options, wings, seafood, and an Instagram-worthy chicken and waffle sandwich.

Water for Chocolate: Chef/owner Sean Guy recently celebrated the 14th anniversary of his Butchers Hill brunch spot, which is now open for al fresco service.

With Love Co.: Officially reopening its doors on June 4, this black and female-owned vegan spot on Harford Road emphasizes the passion that goes into its food. As the hand-painted wall mural inside the shop reads: “Everything begins and ends with love.” Try the lentil burgers, scratch-made soups, and filling bowls and salads.

Whitelock Community Farm: The team behind this Reservoir Hill farm is working harder than ever to supply residents, senior centers, and group homes with organic produce throughout the COVID-19 crisis. You can purchase the produce at the 32nd Street Farmers Market on Saturday mornings.

In the days since the death of George Floyd, a 46-year-old African-American man who died after being pinned to the ground by a white police officer in Minneapolis last Monday, an outpouring of outrage and grief has swept the United States—from every corner of the internet to large protests in the midst of a global pandemic in dozens of cities across the country, including the streets of Baltimore.

It’s an all too familiar scene, coming on the heels of other deeply disturbing, high-profile killings of black Americans like Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, and just one month after the five-year anniversary of the death of Freddie Gray in police custody.

From personal anecdotes to documentary footage, here are some of the responses coming out of Baltimore, as well as ways to get involved.

WAYS TO GET INVOLVED

Following Saturday’s protests in downtown Baltimore, a youth-led “Love from Baltimore to Minneapolis” demonstration will take plan on Monday, June 1, in the name of “justice for George Floyd and all victims of state violence [in] solidarity with the Minneapolis Uprising,” with a 3:30 p.m. assembly on the corner of Sharp and Pratt streets.

There are many organizations currently accepting donations such as the Official George Floyd Memorial Fund; the Minnesota Freedom Fund, which works to provide bail for jailed protesters; the Minnesota-based Black Visions Collective, a black, trans, and queer-led social justice organization; Colin Kaepernick’s Know Your Rights Camp that provides resources for black and brown youth; the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People; the American Civil Liberties Union; and the Southern Poverty Law Center, among others.

Local restaurants and businesses are also finding ways to get involved by fundraising for local and national organizations and non-profits. Today, Sunday, May 31, Fells Point’s Cocinas Luchadoras taco spot is donating 10 percent of all sales to the Minnesota Freedom Fund. Old Goucher’s Larder restaurant is now featuring a special waste-free duck and vegetable dish with proceeds from all orders benefitting the Minnesota Freedom Fund, as well, in addition to matching all donations submitted through their website. Motzi Bread is matching all sales of its $5 Pay It Forward loaves for donations to Reclaim The Block, a Minneapolis organization that advocates for police reform, as well as Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, a Baltimore collective that works toward inclusive public policy.

Today, Charles Village’s Get Shredded Vintage shop will also be donating 25 percent of online sales to the Baltimore Action Legal Team’s community bail fund for people imprisoned under minor offenses. This week, the Remington-based B. Willow plant shop will also donate all gratuity and 10 percent of sales to the Baltimore Action Legal Team, while the Greedy Reads book store is also donating 15 percent of all sales to D.C.’s Antiracist Research & Policy Center and the Baltimore Brew.

DeRay Mckesson is tired. He tweeted he’d been “cursed to sit next to the drunk man” flying back from the West Coast as he wrapped up a five-week, 22-stop, cross-country book tour. Arriving at Ida B’s Table for a morning interview and photo shoot, the 33-year-old activist is punctual and polite, but his distinctive, high-pitched voice is softer than usual. Nonetheless, he’s ready to discuss his role in the Black Lives Matter movement and his recent call-to-action memoir, On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope. Brief recap: Mckesson garnered national attention live-tweeting the Ferguson, Missouri, marches following the killing of Michael Brown Jr. by a white police officer, and he checked in at No. 11 (along with fellow protestor Johnetta Elzie) on Fortune’s list of the “World’s Greatest Leaders” in 2015.

Jet-lagged or not, Mckesson cogently breaks down the structural racism that plagues cities such as Ferguson and Baltimore, as well as the foundational ideas that built and sustained that inequality. That preternatural ability to communicate—with composure and conciseness—is how the Baltimore native became an overnight cable news go-to.

“When we think about white privilege, it is the recognition that people benefit from things that they personally did not work for,” he begins, addressing a subject covered on his book tours. “When we think about white supremacy, it is the idea that white is better, that white is the norm, is the standard, that it is more worthy. And then, we think about ‘whiteness,’ and it is the culture that idea births.”

On the road, Mckesson was interviewed by the likes of MC Hammer, former Obama speechwriter Jon Favreau, and The Daily Show’s Trevor Noah. He has a million-plus followers on Twitter, has hosted celebrities from John Legend to Katy Perry on his weekly show, Pod Save the People, and he gets invited to parties by Beyoncé. But here’s the weird thing: While Mckesson was born here and lives here, he draws only a small crowd to his book signing later tonight at Baltimore Soundstage.

“I don’t mean this in a good or bad way, I just don’t come across him,” says Sean Yoes, Baltimore AFRO editor and author of Baltimore After Freddie Gray: Real Stories from One of America’s Great Imperiled Cities. He may be a national civil rights figure, but Mckesson is not a conspicuous presence in Baltimore two years after his bid for the city’s highest office. “Maybe I’m just in my own lane—I hadn’t thought about him in months, at least,” Yoes continues. “He’s kind of in a no-man’s land here.”

The protests in Ferguson after Michael Brown’s death began a little more than four years ago, but it is easy to forget the timeline, the details, and the next 400 days of activism that helped set the stage for the uprising in Baltimore following the death of Freddie Gray. Several days after officer Darren Wilson’s shooting of Brown in August 2014, Mckesson, then a 29-year-old Minneapolis public school administrator, headed to Missouri to see the unfolding situation for himself. He live-tweeted his mundane drive to his then-modest 800 followers while also seeking a sofa to sleep on once he reached Ferguson. The second night he was there, police tear-gassed demonstrators. “That was the moment I became a protestor,” he says.

In collaboration with Elzie and Brittany Packnett, both St. Louis-area natives, Mckesson took to social media to document the confrontations with the Ferguson police department’s militarized response. They also used their online platforms to launch the Ferguson Protestor Newsletter, which became both a resource for—and an alternative to—the establishment media, which they saw misrepresenting the protests as violent.

Identifiable in his ubiquitous royal blue Patagonia vest, which he basically has not taken it off since, Mckesson became the most recognizable face of the Black Lives Matter movement. In fact, the vest remains so intertwined with his political brand that it has its own Twitter handle.

After Ferguson, Mckesson joined similar protests in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, following the death of Alton Sterling; New York following the death of Eric Garner; North Charleston, South Carolina, following the shooting of Walter Scott; and Baltimore following the death of Freddie Gray. (In one memorable interview here, he repeatedly pushed back against CNN’s Wolf Blitzer, who tried to get a patient Mckesson to condemn the behavior of protestors. “You are suggesting this idea that broken windows are worse than broken spines,” Mckesson responded.) Since then, along with Packnett and policy analyst and data scientist Samuel Sinyangwe, Mckesson helped create the police reform initiative Campaign Zero and its associated website, mappingpoliceviolence.org, which tracks the people killed by police in the U.S. “The numbers are flat, not down at all,” he notes, with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.

As he chronicles in some of the best chapters of his book, Mckesson was born in West Baltimore, later moving with his father, a recovering drug addict, and his sister to Catonsville. It was in Catonsville, he says, that he first became aware of poverty and the inequity in education.

After college at Bowdoin in Maine, he taught in New York City through Teach for America before returning to Baltimore for three years to work for a nonprofit after-school educational initiative and the city school system. He then spent 16 months in Minneapolis as senior director of human capital for their school system before leaving for Ferguson. He has received death threats and has been sued by police officers. In turn, he has sued Fox News and commentator Jeanine Pirro for alleging he incited violence. Along the way, the Obama White House invited him to a policy discussion, and he joined the speaking roster at Creative Artists Agency, whose clients include Joe Biden and Will Smith. Oh, and he gave commencement speeches at The New School and the Maryland Institute College of Art. In other words, it has been a roller coaster.

“You are suggesting this idea that broken windows are worse than broken spines.”

As the threats and lawsuits attest, Mckesson has also become a lightning rod. Much of the fire directed his way derives from mere hate from the other side. But there has been—and remains—resentment and criticism among those who normally would be considered allies. Broadly, the accusation is that he raced in front of cameras and put himself forward as a spokesman for a movement he did not begin.

Kaysonya Wise Whitehead, a Loyola University professor who teaches a course on the Black Lives Matter movement and hosts a current events program on WEAA, is not a Mckesson fan. “Black Lives Matter is a social movement, a civil rights movement, and it’s a slogan—it is something to stick on the bumper of car,” Whitehead says. “It’s all those things. But the people who created the hashtag and pushed it forward have been scrambling to get in front of it ever since. The fact that the white media rallies around someone does not make him or her a leader. Has DeRay been a leader on these issues locally? No, it’s The Algebra Project, Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, Baltimore Bloc, Pleasant Hope Baptist Church, among many others, that’s been doing the work.”

Mckesson’s last-minute entry into the Baltimore mayoral race in 2016—an announcement made in coordination with The Washington Post, The New York Times, and The Guardian—gave detractors additional fuel.

“It’s one thing to be able to show up to an event in a major mainstream media moment,” Dayvon Love, public policy director for Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, told Slate after Mckesson’s announcement. “It’s a different thing to get people from Baltimore to go to Annapolis for a hearing on police reform on a Tuesday at 1 in the afternoon.”

“It was opportunistic,” Anthony McCarthy, a former spokesman for the past three Baltimore mayors, says of Mckesson’s bid. “There was already one of the strongest fields in a long time.” That said, Mckesson did receive support from Morgan State professor Lawrence Brown, who is at work on a book about Baltimore’s history of segregation and housing discrimination. “What have those other establishment candidates accomplished?” Brown argues, suggesting an outsider is needed to bring real change to City Hall.

Mckesson, who received 2 percent of the vote, takes exception to the criticism. He highlights the year he spent opening and overseeing a West Baltimore after-school center with the nonprofit Higher Achievement and leadership roles when he was a Catonsville High School student with the city’s Safe & Sound Campaign and the grant-making nonprofit Youth As Resources. “For all this talk about ‘ending the gatekeepers,’ there are places where people’s identity is rooted in deciding who is and who isn’t able to do [activism] work, and Baltimore is one of those places,” he says.

This past election season, he stirred more controversy by endorsing fellow Teach for America alum J.D. Merrill, son-in-law to former Mayor Martin O’Malley, over longtime Baltimore civil rights leader Jill Carter for a seat in the state Senate (Carter won). Meanwhile, Mckesson says he doesn’t know if he’ll run for office again or how long he’ll stay in Baltimore. Current plans revolve around his national podcast and Campaign Zero, which he says will be publishing new data soon about police complaints and police union contracts.

Erin Hodge-Williams, former executive director of the nonprofit Higher Achievement, has known Mckesson since he was a teenage youth organizer. “He pours himself into everything he does,” Hodge-Williams says. “The traction he got [after Ferguson] surprised me, but I think the blue vest, for example, is ingenious. Is it branding? Yes,” she continues. “But I think it’s brilliant. Trump is on Twitter all the time stirring up nonsense. DeRay strategizes how to make his voice heard, too, but that’s because he wants to talk about policing and prison reform and social justice. He stays true to his message, and that makes all the difference in the world.”

Whether it makes a difference in Baltimore may be another matter.

“Everybody watches movies, D! TV and movies!” my friend Rello said, pounding a basketball against the pavement and in between his legs. “You gotta make a film, not everybody gonna read books! But everybody watch the tube!” Some of our crew nodded in agreement. About twenty of us twenty- or thirtysomethings eclipsed the corner of Lakewood and Madison on a semi-warm April day. I was trying to get half of us down to Bocek Park for a 5-on-5. “They gonna read my book, homie,” I said. “I can sell! Man, I could talk a Nazi into donating money to the United Negro College Fund if I wanted to!”

The block laughed. We traded a few more jokes as we limped our way down to the court. Limped, because East Baltimore is rough on the bones—the lot of us have been beat, shot, stabbed, or suffered from some type of dirt bike injury.

Rello elevator sales pitched me all the way from Lakewood down to the court. He had some great ideas, but I had to school him on how the pen is the foundation. “We can make hella films or TV shows,” I told him. “But somebody is writing them! Most of your favorite films were probably books first!”

We reached the park. The court was limp and cracked like us. They painted it a fresh coat of red and blue the previous summer, but that last Baltimore winter made the rehab temporary. We didn’t care; we just wanted to compete while knocking off a few pounds for the summer.

Three or four games in, a black Honda pulled up. Q, another from our block who used to ball with us, hopped out, squeezing his iPhone. I haven’t seen him in person since he discovered Twitter.

“Yooooooo!!!!!” he said. “They killed that boy Freddie Gray from over west, yo! Slim died today! Bitch-ass, racist-ass cops!”

Obvious rage exploded from our side of the gate as some crowded his phone and some reached for their phones to watch the video, over and over again.

I didn’t know Gray personally, but he was tight with my friend GD, among others—Black Baltimore is small like that. We are all just one cousin away, really—everybody knows everybody. GD always called him Freddie Black because of his complexion. Gray was dark, slim in body, stood about yay high—and had a reputation for being a friendly jokester. Everybody knew he liked to clown, which made the cops who killed him even more evil in our eyes than the cops who usually kill people, and it was the primary reason for the actions that followed.

I allowed his ignorance to further perpetuate the angry, Black stereotypes.

Baltimore took to the streets in true Baltimore fashion shortly after Gray was pronounced dead. Cop cars were flipped like pissy mattresses and rumbles broke out as buildings burned—it got so wild that the National Guard parked troops with heavy automatic weapons and Army trucks on residential blocks. Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake issued a 10 p.m. curfew in the midst of the madness. I don’t have a press pass, but I scraped up enough clout as a freelance journalist to mostly stay above the curfew law. I tagged along with some Sun, City Paper, and Guardian reporters; together we documented the cocktail of pain and positivity that would grow to become the Baltimore Uprise.

Prior to the murder of Freddie Gray and the Uprising, I had documented Black culture for a number of publications, mainly Salon. My writings earned me two book deals and countless speaking engagements around the country as a go-to guy for a range of topics including police brutality, literacy, the digital divide, and systemic racism. I used a universally accessible language, I had a knack for discussing these topics to mixed audiences, and felt like I was doing my part to make a difference.

Gray’s death introduced my work to all of the major cable news networks. It gave me the opportunity to talk about these issues to a larger audience, with the hope of having a larger impact. My TV experience was limited—I had nothing under my belt except a few HuffPost Live interviews, but that was more than enough for the influx of reporters and producers that flooded every inch of Baltimore. They were everywhere: Don Lemon at City Hall, Geraldo Rivera getting laid out by activist Kwame Rose at the corner of Penn and North, Anderson Cooper mobbed by fans—and on and on and on. They were snagging everybody who was anybody to do interviews on Gray, our cop problem, and the current state of the city.

“Okay D, three shows reached out, they want to talk about your New York Times piece,” said Brandi, my event coordinator. “I’ll send you the location and hit times.” I had penned an essay for the Times the previous day on our city’s ugly history of police brutality and how growing up Black in Baltimore under Martin O’Malley almost guaranteed constant harassment and an arrest record.

The first few interviews went smooth. I talked about the collection of peaceful protests that went down, and how myself and other community members were going to play our part in repairing the damage. I also got a chance to shed light on the many systemic issues that cause all of these cop shootings. My language might not have been as effective as it could’ve been, but I got my points across. I felt good about all of my appearances that afternoon and even more confident about the one I had to knock out around 7 that night—OutFront, with Erin Burnett.

CNN was posted up on the corner near that park in front of City Hall. I strolled up to the set, and prepared to give the same spiel. Erin introduced the guests—me and some square ex-cop named Dan Bongino, who was over at CNN studios in Washington. I started off by talking about the positive things that were going on in the city, and even slipped in some jokes about how the peace rallies were so diverse that they looked like Black Eyed Peas concerts or Gap commercials.

“D’s words are inflammatory and irresponsible!” screeched a voice in my right ear. “And all he is going to do is run away when this whole thing blows up!” It was Bongino. They had told me he was a Republican who would position himself against me; but who knew the little guy would come out swinging?

I thought his claims were stupid and disconnected—I’ve never run from anything in my life, not even the police. I cut him off, telling him that he was annoying and blinded by privilege. His foolish statement gave me no choice. The smell of the streets still reeks from my pores, so yeah, I lost it. I went off on him and, as a result, I allowed his ignorance to further perpetuate the angry Black stereotypes that the mainstream media love to portray.

I’m not the only Black writer in the city. I’m responsible for making (other) voices heard.

I was upset with my performance, dismayed that a talking head could make me snap like that. Surprisingly, my mentions blew up on Twitter with praise from my side and hate from his—and now I was confronted with screenshots of his cubed-shaped head next to mine, up and down my timeline. I looked crossed-eyed and crazy on the streets, yelling at that phony in a safe and comfy studio who claimed that I ran from the issues that plague my city. I felt as dumb as he looked and decided I didn’t want to do TV any more.

Why do I need to be on camera? I thought. I was in the streets working with the kids who made the Uprise happen. They needed real love and support from neighborhood guys like me, especially since the mayor and the president instantly wrote them off as thugs. TV people should stick to TV, I thought, and I should write and do my community work. My event coordinator emailed a list of shows that wanted me on the next day, while square head continued to live on my feed as my social media followers tripled—but still, I was ready to cancel all of it just to focus on working with the people who I thought needed my help the most.

I flopped on the couch, cracked a soda, and started flicking through some of the cable news stations. Baltimore was 24/7. Some of the reporters were trying to do good work, but many were just blowing things out of proportion.

My phone buzzed and then made that annoying FaceTime sound. It was Rello. I didn’t answer because I thought it was a mistake. Grown men normally don’t FaceTime each other.

It rung again, same FaceTime ring, so I answered.

“Man why you take so long to answer! You too Holly Wood now! We saw you on CNN cookin’ boy! I’m proud of you!” he screamed. A small group of well-wishers peeked over his shoulder, forcing their way into the frame—my screen was full of gleaming Black faces. “TV, homie, the tube! That’s what I been tryin to tell you! I told y’all that I know D. Wats!”

“Yo, for one, I find it weird that you FaceTiming me, homie, we grown men, bruh,” I told him. “And two, I ain’t going back on TV, that clown made me lose it, I would’ve slapped his face off in real life!”

“Hang up D!” Rello said, “I’ll call you on the landline.”

A second later, he called back. “D, you are going back on TV man, these streets are fucked and we need you on TV. You speaking for us. You was saying the things we wanted to say, so finish your meal! Let them know how racist this dumb-ass system is, and how hard it is being Black in Baltimore, man—that’s your job! Finish your meal man, finish your fuckin’ meal.”

Rello was right. Black representation in the media is a little more lopsided than Trump’s hairline. TV, like print, is considered an authority—people see it and they instantly believe, and I can’t have people believing in Bongino. I started something and my people were backing me 200 percent, so I had the responsibility of being a voice—not the voice for every Black person in America, but a much-needed perspective from the Baltimoreans who are too often left out of the narrative. After our conversation, I went ahead and agreed to do spots and interviews at pretty much every station except Fox—and I made sure I exposed systemic racism on all of them. I communicated effectively in some, others were a little rocky, but I always got my point across. I played a small role in controlling the narrative.

As time progressed, I pushed harder to play my part in controlling that Black narrative. Not just by telling my story to the masses, but by setting up other writers to do the same. I don’t have the monopoly on the Black Baltimore perspective, and I’m not the only Black writer in the city, so I’m responsible for playing my part in making sure their voices are heard. I’ve worked with Tariq Touré, whose work was published in 1729 Magazine, where I also started, and now he’s writing for City Paper and dropping a book; activist Kwame Rose, who is traveling the country as part of the Black Lives Matter movement; and artist and former NFL football player Aaron Maybin, who gained recognition in The Sun. Young activists Chanet Wallace and Makayla Gilliam-Price are helping me on a website that captures Baltimore stories, and young spoken word phenom Kondwani Fidel is working to get his stories published, and navigate the publishing world, while getting enrolled in grad school.

I want to be that go-to person who helps others get their voices out—creating opportunities is just as important as gunning my own. Hopefully, I can do the same with Rello and his film. And that, as Rello puts it, is finishing my meal.

D. Watkins, a native of this city’s East Side, has been lauded by the editors of Baltimore magazine for his writings on such subjects as social change and race relations. In the wake of the death of Freddie Gray, he’s written for The New York Times, The Guardian, and Salon, among other publications, and published his first book, The Beast Side: Living (and Dying) While Black in America. Watkins, who teaches at Coppin State University, participated with talk-show host Clarence M. Mitchell IV in our “Conversation Issue” last September. His second book, The Cook Up, is being published this month.