Strength in the Diaspora
Last month, I had the privilege of traveling to Cali, Colombia to speak at the Afro-Colombian Summit on the panel “Promoting Economic Justice for Peoples of African Descent.” Organized by the Global Black Economic Forum and led by its president and CEO, Alphonso David, the delegation included powerhouse leaders like Erika Seth Davies of Rhia Ventures and John Burns of The Burns Brothers.
Being in community with other Black leaders — while centered in a global conversation about the African diaspora — was deeply moving. Even more meaningful? I got to share the experience with my children.
At the summit, my son, who’s studying Spanish, greeted Colombia’s Vice President Francia Elena Márquez Mina in her native language. She is the first Afro-Colombian to hold this role — and has continued pushing for justice despite threats to her and her family’s safety. Watching my children meet her wasn’t just inspiring. It reoriented my perspective.
The summit’s theme, Somos Herencia Africana — “We are African heritage” — was more than a slogan. It was a homecoming. In Cali, our culture met us at the airport. It showed up in the rhythm of the drums, the cadence of the language, the warmth of the people. The opening celebration felt like church — clapping, singing, dancing — but also a strategic path forward — truth-telling, organizing, imagining what’s next.
Too often, the work of equity in the U.S. feels like a daily grind against a rising tide from those who refuse to accept an America for all. The coordinated efforts to dismantle racial progress can dampen our spirits and blur our vision. But in Cali, I was reminded of what we’re really fighting for: joy. Self-determination. A future so vibrant our children can dance in it.
This wasn’t a trip about looking back — it was about leaning forward. The panel discussions addressed the weight of slavery and its enduring economic consequences, but they also celebrated what we’ve inherited: resilience, connection, brilliance. Watching my children laugh and dance in this place, which exists alongside and in spite of the context of the attacks on equity and free expression in the US, showed me what is possible when we focus on the connections that bring us together. The summit prioritized relationship-building, cross-border collaborations, and reimagining what the future could hold — together.
Even as the shadow of tariffs and a global trade war hovered, what I saw was hope. Possibility. A network of leaders creating something that felt a lot like a decentralized Wakanda — connected through culture, powered by purpose, and rooted in shared prosperity.
As Juneteenth approaches, I’m reflecting on how far we’ve come and how much farther we must go. Juneteenth doesn’t just mark the delayed promise of emancipation — it reminds us of the ongoing journey toward true freedom. The freedom to speak. To assemble. To build. To belong.
In Cali, I saw what’s possible when we anchor our strategies in shared heritage and mutual respect. When we move beyond borders and business as usual to build something deeper. On this Juneteenth, I carry with me the echoes of that summit: the drumbeat of a global Black future — powerful, interconnected, and free.
