Made for This Moment: Full-Circle Reflections from My First CBC

Last week, I attended my first Congressional Black Caucus Annual Legislative Conference in Washington, D.C., through a fellowship with the Black Advocates Action Fund. What brought me there was bigger than a title or a program: it was alignment. Black Advocates, founded by Nicole Wells Stallworth, exists to build civic power and intergenerational connection, and it was through her vision — and Gabriela Sullen’s intentional invitation — that I was even at the table. That in itself set the tone. This wasn’t just a trip; it was a turning point, a grounding.

We stayed in an Airbnb instead of a hotel. At first glance, that may not sound like much, but in truth it shaped the experience. There’s a kind of intimacy in communal housing that strips away barriers. We talked into the night, sharing food and space, building bonds that hotel lobbies rarely provide. For me, it was a reminder that our power is not only in convening on the Hill or in official halls but in how we share life with one another.

That spirit carried into every room I walked into at CBC. I found myself surrounded by full-circle alignments — moments that felt like echoes of my past converging with the present. I would have the opportunity to share space with leaders I had crossed paths with years ago: Wayne County Commissioner Alicia Bell, with whom I once shared a panel; Larissa Richardson, who had been my capstone advisor during my Master’s program and now serves on Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib’s staff, pouring back into me with wisdom and encouragement. And then there was Lieutenant Governor Garlin Gilchrist. I first met him in 2015, a decade ago, while a student at Michigan State University, when I helped shape a panel on bridging Detroit’s digital divide. At that time he was leading DoIT with the city of Detroit. It was his support that later led me to join the GoDATA Commission, where I continue to serve today. Seeing him now, in a season where he is running for governor, made me reflect on how Black leadership arcs across time — and how my own path is intertwined with those currents.

There were others, too, whose presence reminded me that seeds sown years ago still bloom. I thought of Nikhol Atkins, first introduced to me by my Nana during an attempt to build an intergenerational women’s collective shortly after I moved back home from college. That effort never fully materialized — I take accountability for that. I was too young, too in my feelings to carry it. But accountability itself was a theme at this year’s conference, and standing in these women-centered, intergenerational spaces years later felt like confirmation that even when one seed doesn’t sprout, the soil still carries the possibility of growth.

The personal connections kept weaving. I crossed paths with Kandia Milton, now Director of Government Affairs at Dream.Org, but for me always rooted in Detroit’s Shrine of the Black Madonna, where my mother and family were raised under Reverend Cleage’s leadership. He ministered my wedding, and his presence at CBC carried that through line of Black Nationalism, family, and faith. I connected with Thomas Collins, my big brother and mentor from Michigan State who shaped my path into political spaces like BSA, now leading the Michigan Black Legislative Caucus. I ran into Dominique Devereaux, my AP and fellow Spartan, now directing work with the Michigan College Access Network. I bumped into Tyler Clifford, my best friend since journalism school at MSU, who has been urging me to attend CBC for over a decade — the irony of us finally meeting there was not lost on me. I saw Phillip Lewis, another BSA peer, now nationally known as a journalist whose reporting has become a trusted national source. This reconnection reminded me of how far we’ve all traveled from those student organizing days.

I even saw Deanne Austin, who had been a guest on season one of PoliticKen and has always been an encourager — checking in, urging me to stay engaged, reminding me of the importance of presence. Each interaction carried its own weight, but together they formed a map of my past and present colliding.

This year I wasn’t just a spectator. I had the honor of standing before a room to introduce “The Black Side of the Policy Game,” a panel jointly hosted by the Black Advocates Action Fund and Mothering Justice. The panel pulled back the curtain on how local, state, and national policies shape opportunity for Black people, and how we might move from reaction to reshaping. It brought together expertise in sustainability, healthcare, infrastructure, and civic strategy. I stood there with a mic in hand, opened with “what up doe,” and felt the current of Detroit — of my own voice meeting the moment.

I want to pause here on Mothering Justice and their executive director, Daniel Atkinson. Their work centers maternal health and dignity for mothers. For me, this resonated deeply. As a mother, as a daughter, as someone committed to family-centered community development, I see the alignment clearly: paid maternity leave, safe birthing experiences, better healthcare systems — these aren’t abstract policy fights. They are protections of our core.

There were hidden gems all week. I remember one political leader admitting to feeling exposed in a way that shut them down — reminding me of my own scars from leading with conviction. Another gem resonated deeply: this isn’t the time to be scared. That hit me squarely in the chest as I reflected on how often the turbulence of my past years, the blackballing and ostracizing, pushed me toward fear instead of fullness. The very theme of CBC was “Made for This Moment,” and I had to reckon with the truth of that: if I am made for this moment, then we must believe in us.

Wisdom rang from the microphones. During the D9 Panel at the ALC conference, Jeff Johnson told us: “It’s not about relevance. We know we’re relevant. The real question is utility — how are we useful today?” I sat there realizing how this reframe was not only a call to D9 but to all our institutions. A similar lesson echoed in the Accountability IRL session when George Davis shared: “If we are students of history, we must also be students of the future.” These words tethered me back to my own history of learning about futurecasting. This isn’t abstract. It is a discipline of care, a way to equip ourselves to respond with foresight rather than reaction.

Something else brought me a sense of joy. Throughout my introductions, whenever I told people I was with Focus: HOPE, leaders leaned in. They wanted to express their support, to advocate, to “figure it out.” They shared their sentiments on the state of funding for our work, and it meant something to see that kind of solidarity. It was a reminder that institutions, like people, are part of a community. And when the community cares, transformation becomes possible — not just solving immediate challenges, but ensuring sustainability so we don’t end up in the same position again.

I would be remiss not to honor my peers in the fellowship itself. Gabriela Sullen, in her dual role as fellow and board member, brought us into the fold while also running her own luxury scent business, Dalia. Inglish Reed - Jones is charting her own course in the corporate world while lifting lives through her faith-based podcast. Madeline Walker Miller is breaking ground as founder of Nextiles, the only Black woman in the nation leading a textile recycling company, redefining sustainability. These women are powerhouses, each with her own lane, and being in their company was itself a gift.

When I returned home, I found myself in virtual class listening to Professor Dwayne Barnes, as we studied the Black Power era. This lesson leaned into the political shifts of Black folk during this time, specifically highlighting the Gary Convention and the founding of the Congressional Black Caucus itself. The synchronicity floored me. Here I was learning about the “history” of the CBC, just after attending my first conference — 54 years later. And as we wrapped up class, Professor Barnes left us with a call to action: What is our role today? That question echoed the same charge I had just heard in D.C.: utility, foresight, and the power of us.

As I take all of this in — the panels, the hidden gems, the historical echoes, the full-circle encounters, the solidarity, and the fellowship — I keep returning to that theme: Made for This Moment. Not in fear. Not in silence. Not in isolation. But in fullness, in reciprocity, in community.

We are made for this moment.