Black Peace Disrupted by White Men at Sankofa Caravan in Galveston

By Aswad Walker

The National Black United Front’s annual Sankofa Caravan to the Ancestors is one of the most beautiful and sacred traditions in contemporary Black life. Each year, hundreds of Black people from Houston and across the nation gather on Galveston beach—the birthplace of Juneteenth—to venerate our ancestors, pour libations, and renew our strength for the ongoing struggle toward liberation. It is a day of reverence, reflection, and reclamation.

However, this year, deliberate attempts were made to disrupt and disturb that peace.

Despite NBUF securing all the proper permits and permissions from the City of Galveston and Galveston Police, two white men made it their white business to interrupt the ceremony.

They called 5-0, accused Caravan participants of violating beach ordinances, and tried to provoke confrontation. One of them even performed the oldest act in the American racial playbook—pretending to be attacked by a Black man. He stumbled backward, threw himself to the ground, and shouted for the police to “do something.”

The officers, to their credit, did nothing—because they saw everything. They watched this man’s performance unfold, saw through the lie, and understood that no assault had taken place.

Eventually, his tantrum grew so belligerent that the police arrested him and led him away in zip ties. His partner in disruption slinked off to another part of the beach, never to be seen again.

Yet his spirit of disturbance—his inherited sense of entitlement to Black spaces, Black gatherings, Black joy—did not leave with him. That energy remains, because it is part of a much older and deeply ingrained white American tradition: the desire to disturb Black peace.

A Centuries-Old Pattern

What happened on Galveston beach is not an isolated event. It is a continuation of a historical throughline stretching from slavery to the present, where whiteness has asserted itself as the self-appointed guardian of space, order, and belonging, particularly when Black people dare to be free, joyful, or self-determined.

From the moment Black people in this country began to gather independently, minding our own Black business—whether for worship, celebration, or political organization—white authorities and vigilantes have sought to interrupt those moments.

The destruction of Tulsa’s Greenwood District in 1921 began with a white mob’s obsession over a Black man’s alleged impropriety. But it was rooted in the same resentment visible on Galveston’s shore: The belief that Black people’s prosperity and peace are somehow provocations. 

Hell, research has shown that outward signs of Black joy, Black agency, and Black accomplishment are triggers for white people to unleash their most violent tendencies, or at the very least, kill whatever vibe Blackfolk are enjoying.

Across the nation, across the state, across H-Town, across generations, the message remains the same: Black peace, especially in public, is seen by so many white eyes as disorderly, suspicious, and intolerable.

Even Black spiritual gatherings have never been exempt from this. White mobs burned down Black churches for centuries—from post-Reconstruction Georgia to 1963 Birmingham to churches across Texas over the past decade—because Black sacred spaces represent something dangerous to the white social order: The potential for Black self-determination, dignity, and power.

What Drives This Impulse?

The white desire to disturb Black peace is not always violent, but it is always rooted in control. It is the same impulse that calls the police on us while we’re barbecuing, swimming, studying, birdwatching, or entering our own homes while Black.

Apparently, those two Galveston white boys couldn’t stand to see a group of proud, organized, self-determined Black people in a community, not even thinking about whitefolk.

In that moment, the disturbance wasn’t about noise, permits, or space—it was about power. Whiteness has long been conditioned to interpret Black peace as a threat because Black peace implies independence, freedom, and an unshakable connection to something greater than oppression. It means we are not looking for permission to exist—we already know we belong.

Strong Response

To their eternal credit, NBUF leadership and security met the disruption with discipline, dignity, and grace. No one took the bait. No one allowed the moment to escalate. 

Instead, the Caravan remained grounded in its purpose—to honor the ancestors and to walk forward in their strength. That restraint was not weakness; it was wisdom. The very act of not responding was a spiritual defense. But please believe, if a different response had been required, it would have been given.

In the end, it was the disruptors who were removed—not the Caravan participants. But, the fact is, those two Galveston fools are literally everywhere; always and forever sticking their noses in Black business where they have no business. So, what do we do?

Protecting Black Peace Moving Forward

The Galveston incident reminds us that Black peace must be actively protected. It’s not guaranteed. It must be cultivated and guarded by community coordination, discipline, and vigilance.

We can learn from NBUF’s example:

• Plan for disruption—anticipate that it may come, and be ready.
• Designate calm, trained peacekeepers to de-escalate and protect participants.
• Document everything—because truth is power, and history is our witness.
• Center the spiritual purpose of our gatherings so that no outside force can dictate our energy.
• Prepare to respond as necessary if things escalate.

Our ancestors endured far worse to create space for us to breathe freely, move proudly, and build boldly. When we gather in their name, we honor them not just through ceremony, but also by protecting our peace by any means necessary. Sometimes “necessary” means walking away. Other times, it calls us to stand our ground.

Ultimately, white disruption of Black peace is nothing new. But neither is Black resilience.

This story was originally published on Word In Black on November 5th, 2025