Amidst the soulful pulse of New Orleans, the second national Get Free: A Black Feminist Reunion conference took place this past June at the downtown Hyatt Regency. The city—steeped in a legacy of resistance, cultural magic, and radical joy—welcomed a constellation of Black women, girls, and gender-expansive activists and organizers from across the United States. Gathered under the banner of Black Feminist Future (BFF), the reunion felt less like a conference and more like a homecoming.
Founded by queer visionary feminist leader and organizer Paris Hatcher, BFF was born in New Orleans in 2014 in response to systemic violence against Black women, girls, and gender-expansive people. Now based in Atlanta, Black Feminist Future is a member-centered, movement-building organization that “advances Black feminist visions rooted in safety, joy, liberation, and intersectional justice” through leadership development, community care, policy campaigns, and both virtual and in-person convenings—such as Jubilee, Black Feminist Organizing School, and the national Get Free series.
I Am My Name
As I stepped onto the floor leading to the main ballroom—aptly dubbed Harriet Tubman Hall for the event—I was immediately enveloped by the warmth of deep royal purples draping the banners, registration tables, and digital signage. Black Feminist Square, the central gathering space, buzzed with energy and intention. Three of the larger breakout rooms bore the names of powerful foremothers and trailblazers in the Black women’s suffrage movement, education reform, and voting rights advocacy here in New Orleans: Dorothy Mae Delavallade Taylor (the former New Orleans councilwoman who desegregated Mardi Gras in the early ‘90s), Sylvanie Francoz Williams (an educator and suffragist who advocated for Black women to have the right to vote), and Leah Chase (accomplished chef and civil rights icon).
There was an Instagram-worthy photo installation, complete with a white couch, chic bookcases, BFF flags, and curated literature. Pens, mugs, and mini flags echoed bold affirmations: “Black Feminisms Get Us Free” and “Break Up With Patriarchy.” But what truly set this experience apart from other conferences I’ve attended was the intentionality—every room name, every banner, every book and swag item was embedded with poignant messaging and homage to celebrated and overlooked Black feminists, artists, and ancestors. It was curation as resistance.
Black Feminisms Get Us Free
The welcome ceremony set the tone for the weekend—a blend of reverence, joy, and purpose. Mia Herndon—facilitator, acupuncturist, and vice chair of BFF’s board of directors—opened the convening by naming the sacredness of our gathering. The lineup that followed read like a “Who’s Who” of New Orleans:
Adrianne “Ajax” Jackson, founder of Magnolia Yoga Studio—New Orleans’ first Black-owned yoga studio—led a grounding meditation, embodying healing as praxis.
Cherice “Queen Reesie” Harrison-Nelson, curator of the Mardi Gras Indian Hall of Fame, delivered a powerful land acknowledgment and chant honoring the Black Masking Indian tradition. She reminded us that long before European colonization, New Orleans was home to Indigenous tribes such as the Bayougoula and the Choctaw—and that cultural sovereignty lives on.
Cherice “Queen Reesie” Harrison-Nelson
Nana Anoa Nantambu—PhD, elder, educator, and family wellness practitioner—poured libations in honor of the ancestors, posing a question that lingered all weekend: “Which ancestor is responsible for you becoming a Black feminist?”
Assata Renay—multi-talented singer, DJ, and former American Idol contestant—closed the ceremony with a soul-stirring rendition of “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” drawing tears and shouts of praise from the audience.
Assata Renay
Then came Paris, thundering, “Black Feminisms Get Us Free!” as she took the mic to close the opening ceremony. Her words reverberated through the ballroom, a call-and-response echoing through generations. The crowd, already vibrating with anticipation, erupted into applause, ready to dive into a weekend of storytelling, strategy sessions, and movement-building. The keynote address from legendary scholar and freedom fighter Angela Davis awaited us all.
Trans advocate and writer Devin-Norelle (left) and Deon Haywood
Notable Quotables and Memorable Moments
“What I saw at the March on Washington in 1963 was all the women who were uninvited to speak. I imagined that one day I would. Forgiveness equals possibility.” This was Ericka Huggins’ response to the question, “What is possible?” during the opening plenary. Huggins, an American activist, educator, and poet, is most widely recognised as a former leader of the Black Panther Party.
Her statement (and this conference as a whole) forced me to reframe my understanding of American history and how it was taught to me. It never occurred to me that, beyond the provision of entertainment, Black women were not given an adequate opportunity to speak or spearhead contributions to the famous March on Washington, despite the innumerable contributions to Black families, Black political interests, and to American society at large. It is this hidden and overlooked history that reaffirms the need for “Black Feminisms.”
As keynote speaker Angela Davis would later explain, “I rarely talk about feminism in the singular. I talk about feminisms. There is no contradiction between the struggle against racism, sexism, classism, and all other-isms. All must be addressed simultaneously.”
In the breakout session “When Shit Hits the Fan: Reimagining Reproductive Justice (RJ) in Louisiana and the Deep South,” Deon Haywood (executive director of Women with a Vision) stated, “WWAV distributes Narcan and Plan B out of three local libraries. We’ve been pro sex work and amplified the needs of folks living with HIV for the past 30-plus years. No administration is going to stop our mission or our work.”
Reproductive Justice Through the Life Cycle
My favorite session—I’m a nurse first, writer second—was a workshop facilitated by Jamarah Amani, LM (Southern Birth Justice Network, National Black Midwives Alliance) and Omisade Burney-Scott (The Black Girl’s Guide to Surviving Menopause). Their session was the first time I’d ever heard abortion, birth, maternal mortality, and menopause discussed in the same breath—presented as a full spectrum of reproductive justice. “Globally, 1.1 billion people are going through some phase of menopause this year,” Burney-Scott shared. “Less than 3% of OB/GYNs are trained in menopause care. Black folks experience menopause earlier and more intensely—hot flashes, insomnia—because of elevated cortisol levels and chronic stress related to our lived experiences of racism.”
Amani emphasized the “both–and” approach: “In the past, midwives cared for the woman from menarche to menopause and beyond. Go see your OB or endocrinologist—but then come see me. Let’s try herbs, bodywork, and homeopathic, non-hormonal methods to support your transition.” Added Burney-Scott: “We don’t do menopause in the universe. We do menopause in the multiverse.” Homage was paid to Black midwives (past and present) and along with offering solutions, the facilitators allowed participants to share their experiences and envision what full spectrum reproductive justice and care can look like from a Black Feminist Future lens.
Breaking Up with the Patriarchy
The final plenary of the conference, “Break Up with the Patriarchy,” was a bold and tender close to the weekend. Moderated by Mandisa Moore-O’Neal—Black feminist, abolitionist, and executive director of The Center for HIV Law and Policy—the session invited deep reflection and truth-telling through piercing questions, such as: When did you meet patriarchy? What is your relationship with it? And how do we finally break up?
Haitian activist Pascale Solages didn’t hesitate: “I met patriarchy when I was born. Patriarchy is at the center of the crisis in Haiti and the incessant violence against women.” Her words laid bare the global implications of patriarchy as not just a theory but a lived emergency.
Trans activist and storyteller Dominique Morgan spoke with vulnerability about the entanglement of gender identity and validation: “One way women seek validation is through the attention of men—this is true for cis women and trans women. I’m always trying to maintain that divorce.”
Longtime organizer Deon Haywood grounded us in the wisdom of Black women’s resistance: “We need to create our own spaces that hold our identities and who we are. We gather in our homes amongst each other like our foremothers did.”
The session reminded us that the patriarchy isn’t just an external system—it’s a relationship we’ve all been conditioned into. And like any toxic relationship, it takes courage, community, and a vision for something better to finally walk away.
Mandisa Moore-O’Neal (left) and Dominique Morgan
Legacy, Liberation, and the Work Ahead
This conference left me full—intellectually and emotionally. With more than 40 sessions ranging from “Parenting for Liberation” and “Reflection, Sorrow & Celebration: Black Feminist Takes on Grief” to the “Black Trans Feminisms and Disability Justice Innovation Lab,” there was truly something for everyone. For those drawn to the arts, offerings included the Scenes of Solidarity Film Festival and The Irresistible Revolution Art Gallery, held in the Marsha P. Johnson Hall (named after the iconic figure in the Stonewall uprising).
I had the opportunity to engage with some of the art and visit the vendors. Among the standout exhibits was Untitled, Self-Emancipation & Fugitivity, curated by Shana griffin—an award-winning feminist activist, sociologist, abolitionist, artist, and geographer based in New Orleans. This poignant piece explores the lived realities of hundreds of enslaved women and girls who sought escape in New Orleans, which became the largest slave trading port before and during the antebellum period. Faceless busts silhouetted the exhibit alongside lists of dozens of named fugitives who dared to seek freedom, juxtaposed with historic newspaper ads issued by enslavers offering bounties for their return. The installation laid bare the unimaginable courage and peril these women navigated on their journeys toward liberation.
Section from Untitled, Self-Emancipation & Fugitivity (photo by Jamilla Webb)
I left the conference feeling inspired, transformed, and eager to learn more. To be in a room where luminaries like Angela Davis and Ericka Huggins shared space with a new generation of Black feminist organizers was a powerful reminder: This work is not new. From Marie Laveau and Henriette DeLille to contemporary leaders like Deon Haywood and Jamarah Amani, Black women have always done the work of collective care and radical transformation.
Get Free was more than a reunion. It was an invocation, a blueprint, and a promise. So I leave you with this question: What does it mean to Get Free in 2025—and how will you carry forward the legacy of Black feminist freedom in your own community?
All photos (except where otherwise credited) by Katie Sikora
Top photo: Black Feminist Future founder Paris Hatcher (right) in conversation with Angela Davis
For more info, go to blackfeministfuture.org
