Why We’re Pushing the Rock

From the voices of the John Brown Project community

At the crowdfunding launch party for Pushing the Rock, we asked a simple question: Why are you doing this?
The answers came fast, fierce, and full of heart — a chorus of people who refuse to let history repeat itself.

Liz spoke first, and the room went quiet.

“I’m volunteering with the John Brown Project for a really personal reason. I am mad as hell about what’s going on in our country today.”

Her voice shook, but it never wavered.

“The truth is, history is still shaping who gets power, who gets paid. Who gets heard. Black Americans, especially Black women and other people of color, still earn less than their white counterparts because the systems built to oppress them were never dismantled.

Dog whistles to racism, bigotry, discrimination — it’s so disturbing. When I look at my nieces who have less bodily autonomy today than their grandmothers did 50 years ago, I know we haven’t learned enough from our past. That’s why I’m showing up and doing something about it.”

Dan followed with the project’s origin story — and the reason it still matters.

“The John Brown Project launched as a community art project to celebrate equality and to say out loud that equality matters. People are people, and they deserve dignity just because they exist.”

Dr. Louis DeCaro, who couldn’t attend, had sent a message that night:

“I’m not really interested in giving Black people a white hero like John Brown. If they admire him, that’s fine. But what I’d like to see is white kids learn about John Brown and understand his continuing relevance to a nation still struggling with racism.”

That thread ran through the evening — that history isn’t just a record, it’s a responsibility.

Kathy picked it up:

“When I would be talking about race and racism, there were always people we could name who were racist. But how many white people could we name who were on the other side? Not enough. Not anywhere near enough. We need models of people who are so passionate about the truth and what’s right — and give their all.”

Sule nodded in agreement.

“Those who do not learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat it.

And those who refuse to teach the lessons of history intend to repeat it. They intend to repeat it.

That’s why we’re on board with you — ’cause you’re making sure that doesn’t happen.”

Lewis brought it home with both gratitude and warning.

“It wasn’t the powers that be that made the change. It was the people. It was everyone, just like me and you. People of color — we can’t do it alone. They’ll kill us. They relish in the opportunity. So when we have people like you who are doing it at a grassroots level, it really does make a difference. That’s how revolution has always happened — not by people in power.”

Shawn, an immigrant from Jamaica, felt that same spark.

“I didn’t want to just talk the talk anymore. Dan’s passion — he makes you feel like he’s on our side, and we know we need that. It gives you something to do that’s not just sitting here banging your head against the wall. Coming here was culture shock — I didn’t grow up with racism. But once I learned this history, I wanted to do something that moves us forward.”

Then Dr. D connected the dots between personal history and public memory.

“I don’t think you can live in Torrington and not know who John Brown is. But as people of color, if our children don’t know, that’s our fault. We shouldn’t expect others to teach what’s important to us.

I realized John Brown, Nat Turner, and my great-great-great-grandfather all had one thing in common — they were born in 1800. My ancestor was enslaved in Delaware. His son ran to Rhode Island and Connecticut. And here I am, his descendant, in Torrington, where John Brown went south to give his life for my freedom.

On Juneteenth, as the honorary Mayor of Torrington, I paid tribute to all three of them. That’s the circle of freedom.”

Lewis spoke up again, summing up the night in one sentence:

“Just like racism is taught, so is abolitionism.”

Dan nodded.

“It’s important for people who look like me to say out loud that racism is wrong — and white supremacy wouldn’t be a problem if white people weren’t white supremacists. A lot of white people think civil rights is a Black thing.

But it’s not. It’s a human thing. And if we didn’t have that problem, we could just move forward as a strong, multicultural democracy.”

Lewis echoed the final truth:

“We can’t do it without allyship. We can’t do it without you.”

And Kathy closed the circle with a simple, powerful reminder:

“That’s correct. There have always been allies. There’s always been an underground — people working together to make freedom real. We’re just continuing on that path.”

That’s what it means to push the rock:
Not one person’s burden.
Not one group’s cause.
It’s all of us, learning from the past, lifting together, and refusing to let the story end where it began.