Our Voice, Our Power: Creating the Next Generation of BIPOC Leaders in West Virginia

When Oceanna Smith set out to create the Our Voice, Our Power Summit, they knew fellowship and connectedness had to be at the center of the event. 

“Often it can be really isolating,” Smith said of being Black in West Virginia, one of the least racially diverse states in the nation. “So, I definitely want (summit attendees) to feel like they have some kind of connection to like, a network of folks across the state.”

At its foundation, the summit, which is put on for Black, indigenous, and other West Virginians of color ages 15-25, was envisioned as a way to address stark disciplinary disparities in the state’s educational system. For example, Black students only make up four percent of the student population here, but 10 percent of all suspensions. 

Smith realized early on that addressing these systemic issues required something more fundamental: building and sustaining a community.

“Something community organizer Dr. Shanequa Smith told me pretty early on is that Black and brown people, like people of color generally, they really connect over fellowship. And fellowship is people and food together,” Smith said. “We have to take care of ourselves before we can do any kind of good, meaningful work.”

This approach resonates deeply with 21-year-old Maelee Henderson, who serves on the advisory board for the summit. After confronting racism in her school, including a senior who followed her around calling her racial slurs, she created “The Dream Team” — a group that combined advocacy with community-building.

“I love for them to have a space where they can just have fun,” she said about the group she founded. “And not worry about the type of stuff they might have to worry about at class with everybody else all day.”

Henderson’s advocacy journey started at a young age. She was five years old when Disney’s “The Princess and the Frog” came out, and she told her parents she thought Princess Tiana (the franchise’s first Black princess) was ugly.

“They damn near wiped out my whole toy selection and made sure I only had Black ones,” she said with a laugh. “They taught me that I’m beautiful. They said white people sit in tanning beds to have skin like mine.”

Henderson and four other young people serve on the advisory board to help ensure the event is appealing to young people. And good food is central to that plan, Smith said.

“People come in, they get their belly full, they meet people that have like minds,” they said. “We foster a space that like, like Henderson was saying earlier, you’re safe here. You’re safe to learn. You’re safe to make mistakes. You’re safe to take risks.”

Smith emphasized that participants will not only leave with actionable steps to affect change in their communities, but that check-ins and communication throughout the year will help ensure a sustained network of people who can stay connected and combat that feeling of isolation. By building these networks, Smith and Henderson hope participants will be able to engage in this work for a prolonged period without feeling burnt out or alone.

“It takes a new level of confidence to stand on your Blackness and stand up to people opposing it,” Henderson said.

In a state where racial isolation can feel overwhelming, the Our Voice, Our Power Summit stands is a testament to the power of community, proving that sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply creating spaces where people can be themselves, together.