A sparrow at my door: A reflection on dignity, death, and the work of our time

May 22

This morning, as I stepped outside my door, I found a dead sparrow lying still on the earth. I paused, caught off guard by the smallness of it, the surprise of it, the quietness of the moment. Elders have taught me that when we see something dead, it means its medicine or symbolic power has been fully incorporated. And so, with reverence, I returned the sparrow to the earth from whence it came—offering a silent prayer of thanks for its life, and for the teaching it brought me in its final stillness.

Later, I opened Animal Speaks by Ted Andrews and read:

“The sparrow teaches the awakening and triumph of common nobility.”

“Its ability to multiply and assert itself in spite of predation reflects the idea that the nobility of the common person is inherently strong.”

In that moment, the connection became clear. The sparrow was not only a sign for me—but a reflection of the collective moment we are in. Of how, despite the overwhelming pressure of systems built to crush our spirit, Black communities across Washington are continuing to rise. To sing. To survive with dignity. To care for one another with fierce, unwavering love.

This week, I visited five of our grantee partners. I hold each of them with deep respect, both as a witness and as a participant in our shared vision. My role at the Black Future Co-op Fund is often behind the scenes—I am not the one on the ground doing the daily work in our community—but I walk alongside those that do, helping make the funding possible so that Black brilliance and community care can flourish.

Multicultural Child and Family Hope Center

At the Multicultural Child and Family Hope Center in Tacoma, I sat with Executive Director Gail Neal as she shared how the state’s devastating decision to eliminate funding for early childhood programs like ECAP will end their birth-to-three and preschool programs by June 30. These cuts will impact hundreds of Black and brown families who rely on these services, some of whom turn to MCFHC for their basic needs. And yet, the team is refusing to let families fall through the cracks. They are moving resources internally, reshuffling budgets, and holding fast to their mission: to protect children and nurture their development—no matter what.

BLK Wins

Over at BLKWINS, I saw a different kind of reclamation unfolding. Their team is pouring renewed energy into telling the truth of African American history—not just the pain, but the power. Through their YouTube channel, they are amplifying the voices of elders, preserving local stories, and restoring a sense of cultural continuity that uplifts and honors rather than retraumatizes. In a time when history is being erased, they are making sure our people remember who we are.

RAZE

In Spokane, Kerra Bowers and the team at Raze are literally building the future. They broke ground in January on a multi-million dollar childcare facility that centers disrupting the preschool to prison pipeline through the lens of exaltation of black excellence and is funded exclusively through regional efforts (including state funds). No federal government strings. No compromises. Just radical trust in our own ability to care for our own. The new space will include a green park and a replica of the Smithsonian’s African American History Museum—with QR codes to honor local Black heroes. It is an offering to our ancestors and a blueprint for our descendants.

Our Gems

Out on the Kitsap Peninsula, I visited Our Gems, founded by Ms. Harriette and Ms. Vicki. Their youth programs meet weekly to cultivate dignity, purpose, and community among young Black boys and girls. Two of their graduates have already been honored with the “Rising Star Award” for outstanding service to the community. These youth aren’t just surviving—they are shaping the future with clarity and grace. They are being taught, in no uncertain terms, that their lives matter and their voices have power.

iUrban Teen

And finally, with iUrban Teen, I witnessed how technology is being wielded not as a tool of surveillance or distraction, but of liberation. Their nationally recognized program trains youth of color in hands-on tech and career pathways, while also grounding them in civic responsibility and community service. They are planting seeds of future engineers, designers, and builders—youth who will reimagine the systems we’ve inherited and create something entirely new.

All of these organizations—and the people behind them—are sparrows. Not in their size, but in their medicine. Assertive. Perky. Resilient. Living proof of what happens when everyday people move with courage, even when the odds are against them.

As I laid the sparrow to rest this morning, I felt a deep knowing settle in me. The medicine of common nobility—of inherent worth, of communal dignity—has been fully incorporated. And maybe that is what this moment is asking of all of us: not to become bigger or louder or more powerful, but to remember that we were never small to begin with. That we carry greatness in our bones. That survival itself, with our joy and our integrity intact, is a triumph.

This is what I have the privilege of witnessing. This is what I get to help fund. And this—this work of love, of culture, of dignity—is something I can do directly. For the sparrow. For my people. For us all.

Stephen Robinson