Black History

Co-Author of New Memoir Unveils the Torture of Los Angeles-Based Revolutionary Deborah Jones

Black revolutionaries of the 1960s and 1970s faced unimaginable discrimination, violence, obstruction and hostility from law enforcement, people who opposed their ideologies and activities — and even undercover agents of the federal government. But what happens when the pain, torment and sabotage come from individuals they fought alongside, who they regarded as colleagues and “comrades?” The newly released memoir “What We Stood For: The Story of a Revolutionary Black Woman,” written with the assistance of Thandisizwe Chimurenga, reveals the untold story of Los Angeles-based activist and advocate Deborah Jones. It details the harrowing experiences of Jones, 73, as a member of the Us Organization, one of the leading Black Power groups in California and the United States, from 1968 to 1970.

Published

2 years ago

August 6, 2024

Oakland Post

Book Cover of What We Stood For: The Story of a Revolutionary Black Woman”

By Edward Henderson, California Black Media

But what happens when the pain, torment and sabotage come from individuals they fought alongside, who they regarded as colleagues and “comrades?”

The newly released memoir “What We Stood For: The Story of a Revolutionary Black Woman,” written with the assistance of Thandisizwe Chimurenga, reveals the untold story of Los Angeles-based activist and advocate Deborah Jones. It details the harrowing experiences of Jones, 73, as a member of the Us Organization, one of the leading Black Power groups in California and the United States, from 1968 to 1970.

The US Organization was a political rival to the Black Panther Party.

Two years after Jones joined the Us Organization’s Taifa (Nation) Dance Troupe, Maulana Karenga, cofounder of the organization known for creating the African American holiday of Kwanzaa, accused Jones and Gail “Idili” Davis, another member, of trying to poison him.

According to Jones, that accusation is false and baseless.

According to the account in the book, the women were held and tortured in Karenga’s garage over Mother’s Day weekend in 1970. In addition to describing this account and explaining Jones’ life afterward, the memoir also tells Jones’ story of growing up in Los Angeles in a loving, Pro-Black household, and her life’s calling of inspiring Black youth through Afro-centric teachings.

California Black Media spoke with co-writer Thandisizwe Chimurenga about her process working with Jones on the memoir and some of the sensitive subjects it includes.

Jones declined CBM’s interview request and deferred to Chimurenga.

“The main reason I wanted to be part of this project, I believe Debroah Jones and Gale Davis, the other woman who was tortured along with her, I believe they are used as a hammer against Karenga and this US Organization,” said Chimurenga.

“What I mean by that is: every year during Kwanzaa, people who don’t like Karenga or the US Organization — because they’ve adopted the beef of the Panthers vs the US organization — because of the anger and shock and hurt over the murders of Bunchy (Carter) and John (Huggins) — one of the things they say is ‘in addition to killing Bunchy and John,” they also tortured two sisters.”

Members of the US Organization were convicted for killing Black Panthers Carter and Huggins.

Declassified FBI files have since revealed that some of the tensions between the U.S. Organization and the Black Panthers were inflamed by secret federal agents.

Chimurenga says, with the book, she and Jones want to associate faces with the nameless women people often mention were tortured by the US organization.

“They have names. They are actual people. This is what their life is like,” said Chimurenga. “This is what Deborah says happened to her. She’s not just a nameless cudgel.”

“What We Stood For: The Story of a Revolutionary Black Woman” is available via Diasporic Africa Press and Amazon.

Oakland Post

Posts by Oakland Post

Up Next

Former Stockton Mayor Michael Tubbs Is Running for Lieutenant Governor

Don't Miss

Celebrating 40 Years, Bill Pickett Rodeo Partners with BeyGOOD Foundation

Oakland Post

Click to comment

Arts and Culture

COMMENTARY: Black Music is the Sound of Black Freedom: Let Us Reclaim Both This Juneteenth

Black Music Month started when Black Music Association members Ed Wright, Kenny Gamble and his wife, journalist and radio host Dyanna Williams were able to persuade President Jimmy Carter to establish the observation on June 7, 1979.

Published

21 hours ago

June 9, 2026

Oakland Post

Robert Johnson (1911-1938) is thought of as the godfather of blues music, especially Delta blues. The 29 songs recorded by him during his short life have been of massive inspiration to guitarists and musicians over the last 80 years. Public domain photo.

By Wanda Ravernell

Black Music Month and Juneteenth are inextricably linked – Black music is the sound of our freedom.

From the plaintive moans of the enslaved Africans’ ‘sorrow songs,’ to the fields of Civil War battle where Black soldiers picked up abandoned bugles, to the upright piano played in juke joints on Saturday night and churches come Sunday morning, our ancestors’ innovation in the face of want, fear, degradation, and hopelessness has yielded genres of music imitated ’round the world.

In 2000, Congress made it official. In 2009, Pres. Barack Obama changed the name to African American Music Heritage Month and in 2023, Pres. Joe Biden changed it back to Black Music Month, two years after he declared Juneteenth a national holiday, the result of a movement led by Opal Lee.

Our ancestors battle for freedom over these last 400 years and the music that allowed them expression of their humanity deserved to be honored.

But we may be losing sight of the value of their sacrifices.

‘Sing a Song Full of the Faith That the Dark past Has Taught Us…’

Along with the long-known exploitation of Black musicians whose recordings were stolen by record companies, the commercialization of Juneteenth feels like another kind of theft.

I had never heard of Juneteenth until I moved to the Bay Area from my hometown of Philadelphia. I didn’t know it was one of many freedom festivals celebrated by descendants of enslaved people in the United States.

Emancipation Day was Jan. 1 in Pennsylvania, April 16 in Wash., D.C., May 20 in Florida, and Aug. 8 in Kentucky. But Juneteenth, June 19, has the most renown, known in Texas as the ‘colored peoples’ Fourth of July.’

It was marked by parades, beauty pageants, rodeos, backyard barbecues and church picnics.

Yes, church.

The formerly enslaved began the day praying in thanks for their freedom just as they had prayed for Jubilee – the day of freedom – when they had chains on their feet and hands. They ‘testified’ about their past suffering and how they had managed to overcome.

And they sang.

Although, we will not hold it this year, Omnira Institute’s Juneteenth Ritual of Remembrance recalled this part of Juneteenth with prayers in the languages of the African captives. In the middle of the ceremony, a soloist would lead us in singing “Many Thousand Gone” while we took turns reciting portions of the Emancipation Proclamation, the news of freedom that took more than two years to reach Texas – two months after the Civil War ended.

“Many Thousand Gone” was famously recorded by Black luminary Paul Robeson in 1947:

“No more auction block for me,

No more, no more

No more auction black for me

Many thousand gone.”

Other verses refer to the ‘pint of salt’ and the ‘driver’s lash,’ the realities of enslavement that they had survived.

‘Sing a Song Full of the Hope That the Present has Brought Us’

All of the genres of African American music have at their root songs like that, the essence being, as Stevie Wonder, wrote, “the joy inside our pain.” So Black music is not just music. It is our story, our history, our very strength.

During the Civil Rights Movement, which peaked 100 years after slavery ended, the people testified that it was the freedom songs – based on spirituals – that gave them the heart to march, face attack dogs, fire hoses, beatings, and shootouts with vigilantes.

The music reminded them that power was in the people. That music, our music, can do so again. We don’t have to accept the commodification of the products of our culture.

The power of those songs is showing a resurgence across the South as we battle again for the right to self-determination through the ballot box.

Those songs are the voices of our ancestors, voices forged in their blood, their sweat, their tears, joy and, above all, faith. Those songs, those prayers live in our blood and our very breath.

This Juneteenth, let us reclaim those holy voices expressed in Black music for ourselves. It is our birthright. It can neither be bought nor sold. No more. Never again.

Wanda Ravernell is the executive director of Omnira Institute, sponsor for 18 years of the Juneteenth Ritual of Remembrance and Oakland’s 11^th Annual Black-Eyed Pea Festival, which will take place on Sept. 12.