The National Urban Peace and Justice Summit sessions were closed to the media--both because of a longstanding hostility felt by most participants over the media's coverage of urban issues and gang-related activities, but also out of a desire to conduct serious deliberations without the glare and distortion of camera lights. Sojourners editor Jim Wallis was one of a number of people invited by the organizers to participate as observers/advisers.
- The Editors
It was an "altar call" unlike any you've ever seen. Two young men from rival street gangs--one a Crip and one a Blood--came together at the pulpit in St. Stephen's Baptist Church. The two confessed they had been trying to kill each other for more than a year. And then the enemy gang members "dropped their colors" at the pulpit and embraced each other, tears in their eyes.
From now on, they said, they would walk the same road together. Enough killing--it was time for a new beginning. For a gang member to drop a kerchief or piece of clothing with their gang's colors is a momentous thing. One can be killed for such an act. But it was not the only momentous thing that occurred in Kansas City during the weekend of April 29 to May 2.
From a "truce" that began between the Crips and the Bloods in Los Angeles several months before that city's 1992 spring rebellion, a "truce movement" had begun to spread in other cities across the country. Before long, connections were made between the various "gang peace" efforts and a kindred spirit began to grow. Carl Upchurch, a former felon turned peace and justice activist, went on the road to help build the connections and the idea of a national "Gang Summit" was born.
The initiative for the gang truce movement and the summit came from the young people themselves in the ghettos and barrios. Expressing disappointment in the established political, civil rights, and church leadership, they decided to act on their own. The date chosen was the one-year anniversary of the first verdict in the Rodney King case and the subsequent uprising in Los Angeles.
One hundred and sixty four current and former gang leaders and members from 26 cities, and 53 observers, gathered in Kansas City for an event that may someday be viewed as a historic turning point in the life of America's cities. Most of the nation's largest and most powerful urban gangs were represented--Crips, Bloods, Vice Lords, Black Disciples, Gangster Disciples, Black Souls, El Rukhns, Cobras, Stones, and Latin Kings.
While other national leaders call for an end to the violence on our streets, this was a gathering of people who potentially have the power to stop it. These young men and women represent the possibility of a new generation of leadership from the war-torn streets of the nation's inner cities. The National Urban Peace and Justice Summit (as the event was officially called) brought a new sense of unity and responsibility among them.
Mayor Emmanuel Cleaver welcomed the gang members to Kansas City, despite local controversy and sensational media coverage about the event. "I welcome you on behalf of the majority of people in Kansas City....Some people are worried about this, but not the mayor."
Cleaver, who is also a United Methodist minister, hosted a breakfast for summit participants. "Jesus ate with people when he wanted to express a special feeling toward them," said the mayor. He quoted Jesus' words, "Blessed are the peacemakers." It's not just the "peacelovers" we need, said Cleaver, "but the peacemakers...the ones who are willing to stick their necks out and take risks."
Not Separate, But Together
Gathered together were tough gang leaders and former felons, young men who had already served years in penitentiaries, those who had lost many family members and friends, people who had themselves committed terrible violence against others. These very intense days were fraught with tension, ego, controversy, and conflict. What held the Gang Summit together and ultimately overcame many obstacles was a common passion to end the killing.
"Our barrios are suffering. We come here for peace. We're tired of seeing our mothers come to the graveyard," Daniel "Nane" Alejandrez of Santa Cruz, California, the executive director of the National Coalition to End Barrio Warfare, told the assembled crowd. Summed up one teen-age gang member: "We would rather live than die; it's as simple as that."
"We are on a mission," proclaimed Fred Williams, a youth worker from Watts who has been a pivotal figure in the Los Angeles gang truce. "It's time to get down to business."
Rev. Ben Chavis, the newly appointed executive director of the NAACP, who had supported the summit from the beginning, told the opening day's press conference, "What brings us together is blood, and lives. This is a sacred event, a spiritual bond has come between us." While summit participants came from many cities, they also came from the same place of deep pain. Mac Charles Jones, one of two local host pastors, offered the welcome and invocation at St. Stephen's Baptist Church: "We are here to make our pain mean something. We want our pain to be redemptive."
A sort of gang leaders "banquet" the first night had the feel of a family reunion. People introduced themselves to each other--Crips meeting Vice Lords, Latin Kings meeting Bloods. People who had been fighting on the streets and killing each other for years were now talking, finding shared experiences, making new friendships, and developing joint strategies.
Perhaps of greatest significance was the coming together of African-American and Latino gangs and agendas. "Black and Brown!" became a constant chant. "Racism has driven us apart," cried one speaker. Participants in large numbers came from both African-American and Latino communities, and the real commitment to diversity was evident in speakers, issues, language, and cultural expression.
A sense of unity grew, born of similar experience at the hands of "a white system" and of common problems to resolve. The close relationship between Fred Williams and Nane Alejandrez as the summit's co-chairs exemplified the new and exciting possibilities. The Gang Summit was dedicated to the memory of César Chávez, who drew respect from brown and black alike.
T-shirts created by United for Peace in Minneapolis announced a much repeated slogan: "Apart We Can't Do It, But Together We Can." Unity did not come easily in Kansas City, and it was evident to most participants that it will not be won on the streets back home without a great deal of work. Yet unity was stressed as the key to progress. "Let's Fly to a Better Place," proclaimed a rainbow-emblazoned banner. A new peace sign was adopted by Gang Summit participants. Instead of a "V" sign with fingers held apart, the same two fingers are uplifted and held together "not separate, but together."
AN UNEXPECTED TURN on the question of unity came with the emergent role of women at the Gang Summit. At an earlier planning meeting, the handful of women present made a strong contribution, prompting Vice Lord Minister of Justice Sharif Willis to say, "Brothers, we have heard things from our sisters that we didn't understand before. They've told us things we didn't know, and they've made us better understand who we are and where our real power comes from. Brothers, we need to bring more sisters to this summit."
Fifty "sisters" were there, but they were all but ignored the first day by the "brothers" and by the media who only wanted to interview male gang leaders. But then the women stepped forward. Marion Stamps, a long-time community organizer from Chicago's notorious Cabrini-Greens projects, had challenged the Daley machine and city power structures for many years; she was not about to be intimidated now by male gang leaders. After the tragic shooting of a young boy in her housing project, she had become a midwife of the Chicago gang truce.
Established leaders joined with the younger sisters in a closed women's caucus. They emerged with a statement for their brothers and took an active role in the rest of the summit (see "The Sisters' Statement"). As one young woman described it, "Our place is not behind you, or under you, but beside our brothers in this struggle."
Finally, a man stood up to say, "We've got to stop saying 'brothers' all the time; we've got to start saying 'brothers and sisters.'" Another man replied, "Strong men are not afraid of strong women."
Strategies to Rebuild
Political self-consciousness was prevalent at this gathering. "Gang-related violence isn't the only violence," said many participants. One young man described his experience, "I have to go to school without books. That's violence. I watch TV programs which degrade my people. That's violence. I never see anyone in power who looks like me. That's violence."
In his opening speech, Ben Chavis said, "Ending gang violence is only the first step and not the last step. If we just end gang violence, but let racism, poverty, drugs, unemployment, and exploitation stay in our communities, we have not done our job."
Some put the issue bluntly--this summit was not about just ending gang-related violence so white people in the suburbs could feel safer. It was about stopping the senseless killing, so people could get on with rebuilding their own communities.
A full day's program was devoted to planning a strategy of community-based economic development, dealing with police brutality, creating new visions and values to strengthen families and neighborhoods, and empowering and raising up new leadership.
The economic development goals went far deeper than just hustling jobs on the fringes of the corporate economy. Creating alternatives to the lucrative and lethal drug traffic, the mainstay of gang economic activity, was a high priority. One former drug dealer said, "When you sell dope, you will eventually fall. When you're selling drugs, you can't control your own life."
Most people were talking about the development of small projects, businesses, and cooperatives that would serve the community and be accountable to it. The idea of community-owned and -operated enterprises created much more enthusiasm than obtaining franchises from corporate giants.
Bobby Lavender, a convener of the economic development task force and from South Central Los Angeles, said, "We have to lift the community out of poverty, not just individuals. We have to be motivated by more than just making money and then the money will follow." Lavender, who is now suffering from cancer, added, "If you don't look out for the whole, and just look out for yourself, you're eventually going to lose out."
The relationship between gang members and the police departments of their cities is an arena of great conflict and mistrust. The sessions on police brutality were filled with stories of harassment, surveillance, intimidation, terror, physical and sexual assault, the use of attack dogs, torture, and even executions at the hands of local police.
Recommendations for protecting inner-city youth and improving their relationship with the police included the creation of community-based citizen patrols to monitor police activities. "What happened to Rodney King is commonplace!" was echoed by several people. Black Panthers in the '60s followed police around with guns; the suggestion here was to follow them around with video cameras!
It was also recommended that President Clinton direct Attorney General Janet Reno to make public the status of 15,000 police brutality cases that have languished for many months and years. An independent national commission comprised of people of color was suggested to track police brutality. Singled out for opposition was a spate of new anti-gang legislation, said to deprive its targets of their civil rights, and the infamous "Weed and Seed" program from the Bush administration, described here as "all weed and no seed."
"IF YOU DON'T LOVE yourself, you can't love anybody else," said several young people. Self-respect, self-esteem, and self-control were ideas so frequently mentioned, it sometimes felt like a self-help convention. In many ways it was.
There was as much strong talk during the weekend about improving the quality of human relationships as there was about economic development, as much concern for personal transformation and individual character as for political change. The weekend continually defied traditional categories.
No word was more often heard than respect. "Don't disrespect your brother or sister" was a continual refrain. Respect is what these young men and women have felt the least of from their society; it is what they most seek for themselves and their communities.
The closing summit statement spoke of personal as well as social responsibility in finding empowerment. By understanding and claiming their cultural heritage, these men and women feel they can restore traditional values and ways of doing things, strengthen families through effective parenting, and take responsibility to create healthy and safe environments in their neighborhoods. Also stressed was the need to hold accountable neighborhood institutions such as churches, schools, media, business, and criminal justice agencies.
The Power of the Spirit
This summit had moved beyond a "gang truce movement." There are 110,000 young people in the Los Angeles gangs alone. The potential of such large numbers of people turning from self-destruction to community reconstruction is a source of great excitement.
Yet the forces and pressures arrayed against such a transformation are enormous. That sober reality was acknowledged in Kansas City and was evident in the weaknesses and limitations of the gathering itself. Post-summit tensions were inevitable and have since asserted themselves. How can an effective national network or organization be built when the daily intensity of local needs and crises demand the energy of the movement's best leaders? Can competition between strong leaders yield to the summit's practice of cooperation and promise of unity?
The truces in many cities are fragile but still holding. Can those truces be expanded to other neighborhoods and cities? There were no Asian gangs represented in Kansas City; that alliance may be problematic to make. Will there be a "truce" with law enforcement officials or even a partnership to end the violence that is still out of control in so many places?
Then there are the tremendous pressures and temptations that come with media publicity. Will gang leaders simply be made into celebrities for Oprah Winfrey and Phil Donahue? As Fred Williams puts it, "Will this be a R-E-A-L movement or a R-E-E-L movement?" Perhaps most important, can the resources be found to support the grassroots organizations that are so crucial to a lasting peace? Can the resources be found for the community-based economic development that alone can provide an alternative to the violence?
Perhaps it was the enormity of such questions that caused summit participants to speak so often of the need for spiritual power. I haven't been to a church conference in years where we prayed as much as we did at the Gang Summit. Every session opened and closed in prayer, and every time things got hot or conflictual (which was often) we would stop to pray. The prayers were both Christian and Muslim, reflecting the religious experience and loyalties of those present.
I won't soon forget a moment, early on, when things might have fallen apart. In the midst of the shouting and chaos, a Baptist minister from Minneapolis named Jerry McAfee stepped to the microphone and sang Thomas Dorsey's gospel hymn "Precious Lord" with a voice like Luther Vandross. It quieted and settled the crowd, led to a prayer, and allowed us to begin again in a much better spirit.
From opening and closing prayer circles--with Christian, Muslim, Native American, Hebrew, English, and Spanish prayers--to the final worship service, the spiritual power of the summit was evident. Pastor Mac Charles Jones warned his congregation, "This service will be like no other you have ever experienced." The whole diverse congregation was the choir, singing with hearts full of thanksgiving and joy from the days just experienced.
There were two sermons this Sunday. The first was from Sam Mann, the other Kansas City pastor who co-sponsored the summit, a white man from Alabama who is known for his jumping while preaching. Mann's text was the passage in the book of Revelation where John is surprised to look into heaven and see all kinds of people who don't belong to his tribe. Worse yet, there are more of them.
"That's how many people felt about this summit and the people who are here. And most of the concerned people look like me!" Mann said. "Well," he thundered, "the text says you get to be in heaven, not because of who recognizes you, but because of who you recognize!"
Then Mac Charles Jones rose to preach on the gospel story of the prodigal son. When the text said how the young man just "came to himself" in the hog pen, I thought of the gang members who have often told us how they "just woke up" and decided to stop killing each other. Tears and shouts of joy filled the whole sanctuary as young men came forward at the altar call. It felt like church that day--the way it's supposed to be, with people who hadn't been there in years.
A CASE STUDY IN conflict resolution between gangs was provided later in the day. Some local Kansas City gangs had not been adequately brought into the national summit, and had been apparently manipulated by local media people to speak against it. The summit leadership responded by bringing representatives of these gangs into the process and helping them resolve their own differences.
The scene for the attempted resolution was the choir practice room at St. Stephen's on Sunday afternoon. Intense, profane shouting could be heard--not typical for a Baptist church. But would we rather have our young people shooting it out in the streets or shouting it out in our churches? What congregations, mosques, and community centers will open themselves up to these men and women who are looking for safe places to resolve their conflicts and begin the rebuilding process?
As I was about to climb into the airport van for the trip home, Fred Williams emerged from the church and asked to borrow my pen. Surrounding him were some of the Kansas City Crips and Bloods members who had just begun to work out their differences. After the morning press conference, Fred could have spent the rest of the day talking with national and international media. Instead, he spent these last several hours with these local young men.
He wrote down his office and home phone numbers for them. "Now I want you to call me if anything goes down. If I'm not there, leave a message on my machine and I'll get right back to you. Remember what we talked about now. I don't want to hear about anything happening here without you calling me. I'll be back soon to see how things are going."
That's the way the hope of the Gang Summit will spread--kid by kid, gang by gang, city by city. It will grow by patience, perseverance, exhausting work, and undeniable love. It won't be effectively spread through the media, but through hundreds of grassroots efforts and organizations that now desperately need our support.
As I was about to depart Kansas City, I thought about the men and women from the street gangs who had reached out their hands to one another and to us. Most of the rest of us at the summit come from the churches, despite the fact that our churches have mostly abandoned these angry youth. Yet here we were, all together.
Who will now take the hands of these brothers and sisters who have extended their hands to us? Who will covenant with these hopeful new leaders in forming partnerships to transform the urban landscape? Together we talked about a new day, and a new beginning. Now the work begins.
Altar Call for Peace
I have something to say that is really moving me to tears. I've been gang banging for 22 years. I come out of Compton, California. I moved out to Portland, Oregon, selling drugs, banging, and putting the destruction into their community.
I ran into a brother--that's right, Akili. The brother is standing here today. The brother is a Blood. Today I take my rag, and I say from now on there's a counterrevolution in progress. When you hear Crips and you hear Bloods, don't let it scare you because we have a counterrevolution. This is the brother I tried to kill. This day I love him.
- Summit Participant
The Sisters' Statement
We are the mothers, the sisters, the girlfriends, and the gang bangers. We have to stand beside you, not behind you if we are to grow together.
We must be equal participants. We must be able to speak up without being condemned or silenced. Our agenda is the same as yours.
As women we have always known violence. It is gang banging and police brutality, but it is also domestic violence, rape, child abuse, and poverty.
We insist that women are appropriately represented on any advisory group or board of directors developed out of this summit. We are our best resources. No amount of money in the world can accomplish what the strength, intelligence, and love in this room can. We have to pool our skills.
The most important issue is that we work together. We love you and support you. Our effort is one.
Excerpt from the Economic Development Statement
Economic development programs must address immediate needs for employment, housing, services, and also provide for the long-term economic security of the community. The problem is not only inadequate income, but patterns of absentee ownership that continually drain economic resources out of these communities. Residents are unable to retain and reinvest their income and fully utilize their assets. Public assistance does not contribute to the development of a stable and productive economic base for the community.
Gang leaders also called for 500,000 jobs for at-risk youth and pressed the Clinton administration to include such young people as part of its proposed new national service program.
We Are Home
One of the most poignant moments of the reconciliation between the men and women at the Gang Summit came in the final worship service. An African-American man from Washington, D.C., walked to the pulpit and asked all the men to sit down. Then, on behalf of black men, he apologized to black women in prayer.
"I pray that you forgive the brothers. We seek your mercy and your forgiveness for allowing our women to raise their children on welfare cheese. For having them stand in [public assistance] lines for themselves and miss doctor's appointments because we were not there.
"I ask the sisters to soften their hearts now that we have returned, and to open your door of mercy and let us in. We have returned. I ask you to forgive us for allowing you to bear our children and we were not there. I ask you to forgive us for allowing our sons to lie in the street with that yellow tape draped around them and we were not there. We so humbly beseech you sisters to forgive us. This is your day as much as it is ours.
"We only ask you to welcome us back into your arms and your heart and your minds. We are home, sisters. No longer will they have to say, Where is their African-American man? We are home!"
African-American women wept and embraced, finally hearing the words they had waited for so long.
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