LIKE ANYONE ENGAGED IN MOVEMENT WORK, I write every day—e-mails, speeches, articles, press releases. The words I write are not “mine”; they are an expression of the collective wisdom I’ve received from countless elders, young people, sisters, and brothers in the struggle for justice. I never write or speak without knowing I have others to thank.
But this book, in particular, has been an exercise in remembering how central family is to my life and work in the movement. I am who I am because of my grandmamma, my late father, for whom I was named, and my mother, Momma Barber, who is still standing and fighting with us today. They serve for me as concrete reminders of the ancestors who’ve gone before us in the struggle, feeding a river of resistance that makes our life and work possible.
My life is, in so many ways, sustained by the faith and love of my wife, Rebecca, and our children, almost all of whom are now adults. It gives me great joy to work alongside my sons and daughters today, watching them take up for themselves the freedom movement that was passed down to me.
In addition to my biological family, I have always been part of a church family—that worldwide community of sisters and brothers who pray daily to “Our Father,” always present to us in the particular people of local congregations. Greenleaf Christian Church has been that home church to me and my family for nearly a quarter century now. They’ve shown me the best of what church can be, and they have supported my ministry beyond the church walls. It is my great joy to call them family. In particular, I want to thank the team of faithful folk who are with me every day—driving me to engagements, coordinating logistics, praying with me, and loving me through the ups and downs of daily life.
Through the moral movement, I’ve met sisters and brothers I didn’t know I had—a family that crosses every racial, political, religious, and partisan line. Some of those precious family members are named in these pages; many of them are not. But I want to thank each of them. It is a privilege to get to tell our story.
For this telling of the story, I thank Jonathan, my brother in the church and the movement, who helped me step back from the daily task of speaking to a movement in order to find words that express our work’s deeper roots and broader context.
Though my brother Al McSurely’s name does not appear on many pages of this book, I recall his presence—and that of his beloved wife, Ashley, gone too soon—in almost every story. Movements depend upon quiet actors like Al every bit as much as they need storytellers like me. It gives me great joy to dedicate this book to brother Al, sister Ashley, and our extended family in the Forward Together Moral Movement.