Black History

COMMENTARY: Notes and Footnotes to a Life in Georgetown

WASHINGTON INFORMER — There is a visceral disregard and aggressive muting of the African-American presence in Old Georgetown.

Published

7 years ago

February 23, 2019

Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja Special to The Informer

By Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja

In the early ’80s, my mother, younger sister and I went to live with my uncle Rev. Dr. James K. McCants where he presided in the church clergy house in Old Georgetown. What would become my address, 2902 O Street Northwest, was owned and maintained by Mt. Zion United Methodist Church, the historic African American house of worship located just around the corner at 1334 29th Street Northwest. This move, from our East of the River house in Hillcrest (Southeast) to Georgetown represented, perhaps, the biggest and most pivotal change in my life.

I didn’t know a lot about the history of Old Georgetown, I only saw the difference in appearance, which was a totally different from the neighborhood I’d left. The sidewalks were made of red bricks or cobblestone and gave the community a type of quiet village charm. The atmosphere was always very tranquil, except on the outer layers of the neighborhood which catered to college revelry, happy hours, and shoppers. In this way, even as nightfall came, the residents of Georgetown maintained a mostly reserved, lights-out curfew of 10p.m. In a town known for blaring go-go music, an exhaustive nightlife, and a growing commuter system, it felt less and less like I was even in the District.

What I remember most fondly were the beautiful tree-lined streets for blocks with colorful flowers along the brick sidewalks. The corner stores were operated by one of two persons, and the neighbors were so well known that shop owners allowed residents to purchase things on a store tab, rather than at point of sale.

Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja revisited her Old Georgetown home recently with Washington Informer staff to discuss the love she maintains for the people and its history.

But by the late 1980s, I rarely saw African Americans in the neighborhood, except on Sundays for church services or on weeknights for occasional programs.

I remember my uncle telling me Mt. Zion was one of the oldest Black congregations in Northwest Washington, and that many of the members consisted of families that once resided in Georgetown – with only a handful continuing to reside in their Georgetown homes not far from the church. Through generations many of the members still attended services and made up large populations of active church members.

Living in Old Georgetown gave me an opportunity to experience a different type of diversity. I was able to attend Woodrow Wilson Senior High which was touted as an exemplary academic space and one that welcomed the children of our nation’s various embassies. In this way, the diversity I experienced as one of only a few African Americans living in Georgetown also spanned to include friendships with families whose surnames included: Shah, Li, Aragona, Ahmadu, Blesendorff, and Iloabachie. Many of these friends discussed how Black builders had to use their fingers to mold and manipulate materials for brickmaking / bricklaying. They challenged me to walk my neighborhood and examine the many African, Negro, Black, African-American fingerprints — locked in stone and pressed into the flesh of architecture of our ancestors.

Initially my friends knew more about the rich heritage of Black Georgetown than I did – which lead me to bend the ears of those around me for constant signs of heritage and “belonging” in a place that while quiet and reserved, maintained a healthy suspicion of Black bodies.

For instance, one of the most telling misfortunes of being whitewashed from a place while you’re living in it, was the anxiety white neighbors felt at having me in what they perceived to be “their space.” I always understood the angry or confused looks, or even the slow police cruiser trailing my cousin (my uncle’s older son) and me to see where we were going, at the behest of “concerned neighbors,” as an indication of their xenophobia or emotional insecurity. We often laughed at white newcomers to Old Georgetown who didn’t understand that their homes were once occupied by and served as the birthing rooms of the very people they now feared. It didn’t matter that the families no longer dwelled in the community, the houses still held their memories.

Since I married and moved away from Old Georgetown, my desire to reaffirm the family-ties of Black Georgetowners has reached a critical level. There is a visceral disregard and aggressive muting of the African-American presence in Old Georgetown. That separation between what lies beneath the surface and what lies in front of us should be bridged by school curriculum, the city’s historical societies, archivists, and historians. Washingtonians of all ages should be taught the history of a place that was once a refuge for slaves escaping the Deep South, as a vibrant Black economic hub courting generational affluence, and as a place where those who did it, remain interred. I am ever grateful to The Washington Informer Newspaper and The Washington Informer Charities for their efforts to bring this history to life through their annual African American Heritage Tour. It will absolutely make a difference in the lives of participants.

This article originally appeared in the Washington Informer.

Thalia Nash-Mwaipaja Special to The Informer

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Black History

Oakland Observes Black August with Block Parties, Film Showings, Workshops

POST NEWS GROUP — Beginning in 1979 in San Quentin State Prison, the Black Guerrilla Family called for the remembrance of political prisoner George Jackson and his brother Jonathan Jackson who were assassinated in the early 1970s. George Jackson was considered a political prisoner in that it was the anti-Black justice system that led to his incarceration for armed robbery with a sentence of one year-to-life in 1960.

Published

2 days ago

August 15, 2026

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George Jackson wrote two books: “Soledad Brother,” and “Blood in My Eye” before her was killed in an attempt to escape prison on Aug. 21, 1971.

By Jana Lang, Propel Youth Reporter

Study. Train. Fast. Fight.

These are the four tenets of Black August, a month dedicated to commemorating the sacrifices of political prisoners and Black revolutionaries in the struggle for Black liberation.

Observers are urged to study the history of the Black struggle for freedom, train their bodies for health and self-defense, fast to cleanse the mind, body, and spirit, and fight ongoing oppression alongside their communities and local political organizations.

Beginning in 1979 in San Quentin State Prison, the Black Guerrilla Family called for the remembrance of political prisoner George Jackson and his brother Jonathan Jackson who were assassinated in the early 1970s. George Jackson was considered a political prisoner in that it was the anti-Black justice system that led to his incarceration for armed robbery with a sentence of one year-to-life in 1960.

While in prison, George befriended fellow prisoner W.L. Nolen, who introduced him to the works of Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, Mao Zedong, and Frantz Fanon. This radicalization coupled with his experiences of violence while imprisoned led to him writing and publishing two books, “Soledad Brother” (1970), and “Blood in my Eye” (1972). In January of 1970, George and two other prisoners were charged with murdering a corrections officer at Soledad State Prison in Monterey County.

On Aug. 7, 1970, Jonathan Jackson burst into a Marin County courtroom armed with a shotgun to demand the freedom of the Soledad Brothers. He, along with the inmates he freed, was shot and killed while driving away. This involved one of the Black Panther Party’s most notable associates, Angela Davis, because the shotgun was registered in her name. She was later acquitted of charges of conspiracy, kidnapping, and murder in 1972.

On Aug. 21, 1971, George Jackson was assassinated by a corrections officer after attempting to escape and free other inmates. As a result, there were uprisings and protests within prisons all over the country that year, calling forth resistance against racial oppression and mass incarceration.

Since its outset, Black August has evolved across the country, taking many forms to honor this history and embody the four tenets.

In Oakland, the upcoming Black August Experience, hosted by Youth Alive! and the East Oakland Boxing Association (EOBA), is a free, family-friendly event celebrating the legacy of Black August. Activities include free food and drinks, a kids’ activity zone, interactive workshops, live cooking and boxing demonstrations, and more.

Happening on Aug. 21 from 4-8 p.m. at the EOBA Patio, Carolyn Flynn, director of administration at EOBA, said the event, in its second year, will be an opportunity to engage with people in person through food, shared space, and education.

“We do regular classes in education, and those are ongoing programs that we offer, but we wanted to have [an opportunity] for our neighbors to utilize this space.” Combined with Youth Alive’s work in community violence prevention and youth leadership, this event surely aims to bring the Oakland community together to capture what Black August means today.

Here are additional Black August events happening in Oakland:

Forum and Community Discussion hosted by the Oakland Liberation Center, 1499 Fruitvale Ave., Aug. 14, 7 p.m.

“George Jackson/San Quentin” Screening hosted by Nostalgic for Nothing Cinema at Moments Co-Op, 410 13th St., Aug. 16, doors at 6 p.m., show at 6:30 p.m. (Masks required and scent-free)

Commemorating the Struggle, Building the Altar for Liberation: Black August at Bandung Books, 2269 International Blvd., Aug. 23rd, 1-5 p.m.

Building Opportunities for Self-Sufficiency (BOSS), will host “Black August: The Arc of Liberation” at Oakland City Hall on Sat. Aug. 29, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.

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Activism

Oakland Post: Week of August 12 – 18, 2026

The printed Weekly Edition of the Oakland Post: Week of August 12 – 18, 2026

Published

2 days ago

August 15, 2026

Oakland Post

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Art

Misty Copeland Shapes Ballet’s Tomorrow

THE POSITIVE COMMUNITY — Misty Copeland will curate the 2026 Joyce Ballet Festival, a two-week event in New York City from August 4-16. This role allows her to influence the future of ballet by showcasing a wide range of dancers, choreographers, and companies. The festival will present both established and contemporary works, blending classical traditions with new artistic expressions.

Published

1 week ago

August 9, 2026

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Misty Copeland at the 2026 Met Gala, wearing fashion in theme of "Costume Art" Date 4 May 2026, 19:39:21

This summer, Misty Copeland will step into a different kind of spotlight. Instead of taking center stage as a dancer, she will help determine what audiences see onstage as curator of the 2026 Joyce Ballet Festival. Taking place August 4 through August 16 at The Joyce Theater in New York City, the two-week celebration will bring together dancers, choreographers and companies representing a broad spectrum of ballet. The festival gives Copeland an opportunity to share not only her appreciation for ballet’s traditions, but also her vision for its future.

Copeland understands better than most how powerful a ballet stage can be. Her historic career with American Ballet Theatre changed the conversation about representation in one of the world’s most traditional performing arts. When she became the company’s first Black woman to reach the rank of principal dancer, her achievement carried significance far beyond a personal milestone. It gave young dancers of color a new image of what was possible and challenged the industry to reconsider who belonged at the center of ballet.

That history informs the perspective she brings to the festival. Copeland has spent much of her career moving between performance, mentorship, advocacy and storytelling. Her curatorial role allows her to bring those interests together by creating a program that does not treat ballet as a museum piece. Instead, the festival presents dance as an evolving language capable of carrying classical traditions into new cultural and artistic territory.

Audiences will encounter a mixture of established works and contemporary creations during the festival. Classical ballet vocabulary will share space with choreography that pushes dancers toward different physical, emotional and theatrical possibilities. The result is intended to give audiences a broader understanding of the art form while demonstrating that tradition and innovation do not have to be competing forces.

The lineup also provides an opportunity to see dancers from different artistic environments. Performers connected to organizations including American Ballet Theatre, New York City Ballet, Paris Opera Ballet, Houston Ballet, Dance Theatre of Harlem and Complexions Contemporary Ballet are among those represented in the festival. Each company carries its own history and artistic identity, making their participation part of a larger conversation about the many ways ballet can be performed and interpreted.

The presence of Dance Theatre of Harlem is particularly meaningful within the larger story of Copeland’s career and the evolution of Black representation in ballet. Founded during a period when opportunities for Black dancers were severely limited, the company helped demonstrate that excellence and classical training could flourish in a Black cultural environment. Its legacy continues to influence dancers and audiences, making its connection to a festival curated by Copeland especially resonant.

The program also reaches beyond a single definition of contemporary ballet. Choreographers with different backgrounds and artistic philosophies contribute to an evening that can move from recognizable classical structures to works shaped by modern dance, theater, popular culture and new approaches to movement. That diversity reflects a generation of artists who increasingly see ballet not as a rigid vocabulary but as a foundation from which they can explore.

For New York audiences, the festival offers something that is increasingly valuable: the opportunity to experience outstanding dancers in an intimate setting. The Joyce is known for presenting dance in a theater where audiences can see movement and artistry up close. That environment can make a familiar ballet work feel newly personal while allowing experimental pieces to communicate with unusual immediacy.

Copeland’s role as curator also sends a message about the importance of artistic leadership. The people who select performers and choreography help determine which stories receive attention and which artists receive opportunities. By bringing a range of voices into the festival, Copeland is using that responsibility to broaden the conversation around ballet. Her choices can introduce audiences to artists they may not otherwise encounter while encouraging longtime ballet followers to look at the form from a different perspective.

The 2026 Joyce Ballet Festival ultimately arrives at an important moment for the art form. Ballet is carrying centuries of tradition into an era defined by changing audiences, broader representation and increasingly adventurous choreography. Copeland’s festival reflects that transition. For two weeks in August, The Joyce will become a meeting place for the familiar and the unexpected—a celebration of where ballet came from and a preview of where it may be going. And with Misty Copeland helping shape the conversation, the future of ballet promises to be as expansive as the dancers who are defining it.

Based on reporting by The Positive Community.