CAMPAIGN SUMMARY

Since the tragic killing of their beloved son Michael Brown Jr. in August 2014, the Brown family has worked tirelessly to build a world free of racial violence. They coordinate annual programs in Ferguson and greater St. Louis to build safe communities for black and brown youth. They facilitate grief support groups for families across the nation who’ve lost loved ones to police and other forms of state violence.

As we approach the 10th anniversary of Mike Brown’s death, the family is expanding their community efforts. They are celebrating Mike’s life and legacy by widening their ability to provide care, resources, and healing to marginalized youth and grieving families worldwide.

I'm calling on my community to raise $10,000 for their organization, the Michael Brown Sr. Chosen for Change Organization. With your help, we will share an offering that increases the foundation's capacity and supports the Brown family directly. The funds will benefit the foundation’s community programs, adult and youth initiatives, grief support groups, and Michael Brown, Jr. Memorial Weekend, held annually in August.

Please pledge your support. Join me in supporting the Brown family and honoring the legacy of Mike Brown!

#10kfor10yrs

All my love,

Rashad

EXTENDED CAMPAIGN NARRATIVE

How does one bear unbearable pain?

I've thought about this question almost every day since August 9, 2014, the day Mike Brown was killed in Ferguson, Missouri. Mike was a teenager making sense of the world around him. He was confident and ambitious. He wanted the world to know his name. Above all, he was a black boy, beautiful and beloved. I was a 20-year-old black boy. And when I saw the image of his violated body on the pavement, I cried for days. I still do.

Like many, I tried to release my fear, grief, and rage through protest. I joined thousands worldwide who blocked highways and shut down cities in Mike’s honor. I organized demonstrations. I laid on the ground for four and a half hours—the amount of time Mike was left unattended on the pavement—to try and feel for him. As an educator and writer, I've spent the last six years of my life teaching and writing to indict and transform a society that made his death, and the deaths of so many stolen kin, possible.

Beneath my grief, fear, and rage, I always felt a great yearning to build community with Mike Brown's family. I wanted to meet and get to know them. I wanted to hug them tight and whisper prayers to them. I wanted to support and show up for them in the ongoing fight for racial justice.

Last year, I traveled to Ferguson for the eighth anniversary of Michael Brown's death. I attended the memorial the Brown family holds annually in Mike’s honor. When I arrived on Canfield Drive, I found a modest gathering of everyday black folk and a makeshift monument of soft things.

Stuffed animals, balloons, roses, and tea light candles abounded in the rectangle of asphalt where Mike Brown perished. Traffic cones and a yellow highlight outlined the street section. This ground was sacred, and folks gathered around it with a spiritual sense of ritual. The intimate community assembled there loved and tended to each other. They welcomed me into the chorus, too. We observed four and half minutes of silence, chanted Mike’s name, mourned, and wept together. In a quiet moment, I met Mike's father, stepmother, siblings, and best friend. I hugged them tight and whispered prayers, grasped their shaky hands, and tried to hold them steady.

The vigil morphed into a park cookout and erupted into dance and laughter. There, I witnessed what it looks like to carry a grief both extraordinary and mundane, and to cradle it with a love both spectacular and pedestrian. We danced and laughed and cried ourselves black and blue. We cried and laughed and danced ferociously, so much so that sweat and tears became indistinguishable. Somewhere between embraces that felt familial and food that tasted like home, I realized the answer to the question I’d pondered for eight years.

The truth is: there’s no way to bear unbearable pain. Instead, you hope for folks brave enough to fail at shouldering it with you, to not crumble under its weight alone. And though the wound can’t be remedied, you try diligently to nurse it with communal love and a camaraderie tender, unrelenting, and sweet.

Since that day, I’ve watched the Brown family, amid the heaviness of their own grief, extend communal love and the sweetest, most tender camaraderie to others in pain. I’ve watched them pour loving aid into Ferguson and communities throughout St. Louis without yield. I’ve watched them work tirelessly to build spaces where black and brown children can live safely and freely. I’ve seen them spend their resources traveling across the country to support families who’ve lost loved ones to state violence. I’ve watched them bravely shoulder the unthinkable hurt of others, time and time again. This, they tell me often, is the work they’ve been chosen for.

We must uplift this work.

As we approach the 10th anniversary of Mike Brown’s tragic death, the Brown family is expanding their community efforts. They are celebrating Mike’s life and legacy by widening their ability to provide care, resources, and healing to marginalized youth and grieving families across the world. As we collectively mourn the lives of Tyre Nichols, Takar Smith, Oscar Sanchez, Keenan Anderson, and all those we will never know, the amplification of their work is necessary and urgent.

I'm calling on my community to raise $10,000 for their organization, the Michael Brown Sr. Chosen for Change Organization. With your help, we will share an offering that increases the foundation's capacity and supports the Brown family directly. The funds will benefit the foundation’s community programs, adult and youth initiatives, grief support groups, and Michael Brown, Jr. Memorial Weekend, held annually in August.

Please pledge your support and join me in honoring the legacy of Mike Brown!

#10kfor10yrs

Coda: I'm not a skilled fundraiser. I'm not a campaign strategist. But the impulse to raise $10,000 for the Brown family came to me in a dream and woke me from my sleep. To be honest, the vision scared me. But despite not being either of those things, I am a believer in community, and community is the antidote to fear. Already, I feel so confident and held in pursuit of this goal. Thank you for helping me make it come true.

All my love,

Rashad