The First Next Step
Five years ago while at a racial healing conference, I witnessed fifteen hundred people transition from the plenary to their breakout rooms to experience a healing circle. It would be a first for most, and I felt a mix of excitement, trepidation, curiosity, and wonder pulse through the participants. I turned to my partner and said,
“What would our society be like if, on any given day, there were 80,000 healing circles happening across the country in every classroom, courtroom, lunch room, board room, and living room?”
She squeezed my shoulder and said, “That’s a great idea brother! We should do it. Let’s first start by facilitating this circle.”
Since that December morning, this question has held my attention. Each time I facilitated a circle, I imagined 79,999 other circles happening at the same time.
A vision is a great thing, but for years, I kept mine on under wraps. Growing up as I had, I tended to avoid making waves, so that others might take the lead. This strategy kept me safe, but also inhibited me from dreaming - let alone demanding - that my audacious thoughts might someday come to pass.
Then last weekend, my outlook changed, when I reconnected with an old friend.
Cleve Jones is an activist, organizer, author, and legend in the LGBTQ community. When I first met Cleve in 1988, he already loomed large in my eyes. He had been an activist for LGBTQ rights under the mentorship of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in California. After Supervisor Milk and Mayor George Moscone were assassinated in 1978, Cleve took up his mentor’s bullhorn. In a moment sparked by anger and genius, he conceived the AIDS Quilt at the 1985 Memorial March for Milk and Moscone by scaling the wall of the US Federal Building and plastering cardboard panels bearing the names of those who had died of AIDS.
In June, 1987, Cleve launched the Names Project Foundation to build a living memorial to those who had died of AIDS, and to educate others on the pandemic. He opened a storefront in the heart of the Castro District, complete with sewing machines, fabric, and lots of glitter, inviting community members to come in and create at 6’ x 3’ panel in memory of a loved one. Four months later, nearly 2,000 panels were displayed on the National Mall in Washington DC.
At that time, Cleve and I lived on the same street. Even though we knew each other, I always kept my distance. Cleve was everything I wasn’t — bold, unafraid, a badass leader. I found him both intimidating and fascinating.
Three decades later, I now sat in the same room with Cleve, still intimidated and fascinated, and still keeping my distance. n’t exchange words. That distance did not prevent me from being inspired by his words and presence.
His words resonated:
“When we started the Names Project, if someone said we would be mounting a display of the quilt on the National Mall in four months, I would have chased them out of the building. How could we manage realizing something that big when we could barely keep our doors open?”
“What I did was map out my plan on one sheet of paper, double-spaced, and focus on the first next step. Those two things cleared the path for us to reach our goal.”
Cleve described his “first next step” strategy that he used to grow the Names Project. In 1988, the Quilt went on a national tour, raising over $500,000 for local AIDS organizations. The following year, Cleve and the Names Project received a nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize. By 1996, the Quilt, 12,000 panels strong, covered the entire National Mall. Twenty-five years later, the Quilt continues to grow and thrive. Comprised of nearly 50,000 panels, the Quilt is the largest piece of community folk art in the world.
That night a vision of 80,000 circles showed up in my dreams. Unable to sleep, I mapped out my plan on one sheet of paper, focusing on the first next step –to be courageous and tell people about my vision. It’s time to make some waves!
It didn’t take long for an opportunity to arise, when, after dinner, I engaged in a pivotal conversation with an elder who listened to me speak about 80,000 circles in every classroom, court room, lunch room, board room, and living room. He gave me his card, saying “let’s meet again soon, and see how I can help.”
Within the last few days, I have received a dozen inquiries from folks wanting to talk about healing circles. And, this week, I will file paperwork to establish a new non-profit organization — the Center for Community Healing Circles.
Cleve provided a roadmap about how to achieve the impossible. Focus on the first next step, In my own way, I can be a bold, queer, gender fluid, unafraid, badass POC leader. In time, we — one willing ally at a time — will weave our own quilt, comprised of circles that will provide warmth, comfort, and healing. Stay tuned!
Find out more about community healing circles by viewing this video by Kevin John Fong —
Question for Reflection and Consideration
Think about something you want to achieve — especially if it seems audacious and overwhelming. What might you your first next step?
