Black August is a time to remember the history of Black resistance within and beyond the carceral systems. Rooted in the experiences of incarcerated Black activists and organizers, the month is a time for political education, solidarity, remembrance, and reflection. It began inside San Quentin State Prison in 1979 to commemorate fallen activists and revolutionaries that died at the hands of the carceral system. Specifically to remember the Jackson Brothers who were assassinated in early 1970s.
For generations, prisons have been used to isolate people from their communities and in many cases, from public discourse. Yet incarceration has never completely silenced Black political thought, creativity, or organizing. From prison cells, Black writers, intellectuals, educators, and activists have produced ideas that have travelled far beyond the prison walls.
One of the most significant examples is George Jackson, incarcerated writer and activist whose death at the hands of a prison guard at San Quentin State Prison in 1971 was a pivotal moment in establishing Black August. Jackson was incarcerated from 18 years old on a “one year to life” indeterminate sentence. He spent almost half of his life incarcerated and through his writings he brought international attention to the realities of prison life, racism, and political repression. Jackson’s letters and books challenged readers to understand prisons not as isolated institutions, but as part of broader systems of racial and economic inequality. His work was an integral part of the Black liberation and prison movements of the 1960s and 1970s.
Similarly, Malcolm X’s incarceration became a turning point in his intellectual and political development. While imprisoned, he transformed his relationship with reading and education, eventually developing a political consciousness that would influence the world. His story challenges the assumption that incarceration represents only a loss of potential. In his case, prison became a place where education and self-directed study helped shape a voice that would profoundly influence American political thought.
These histories are important not because incarcerated people should be celebrated only when they become famous, but because they demonstrate something much larger: incarcerated people produce knowledge. They teach, write, organize, create art, conduct research, mentor others, and develop political ideas. Their experiences can offer perspectives on criminal justice that cannot be fully captured by statistics or institutional reports.
This has important implications for nonprofits working toward social change. Organizations frequently develop programs, campaigns, and policies for incarcerated and formerly incarcerated people. However, meaningful change requires asking whether those same people are being given opportunities to shape the work and systems themselves.
Who defines the problem? Who decides which solutions deserve investment? Who is invited to speak at conferences, contribute to research, write policy recommendations, or lead organizations? And whose experiences are treated as expertise?
Reclaiming the narrative means moving beyond stories that portray incarcerated people solely through crime, punishment, trauma, or redemption. It means recognizing them as whole people and, importantly, as agents of social change.
Black August offers an opportunity to remember those who used their voices under extraordinary circumstances while creating space for those voices to be heard today. For nonprofits, this can mean more than amplifying stories. It can mean sharing decision-making power, commissioning incarcerated writers, compensating their expertise, creating leadership pathways, and allowing people closest to an issue to help define what change should look like.
The history of Black August reminds us that a prison sentence does not erase a person’s capacity to think, create, organize, or lead. The voices of incarcerated Black people have already shaped movements, ideas, and communities. The question now is whether institutions are willing to listen and allow those voices to shape what comes next.
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