The event opened with a land and labor acknowledgement, and a beautiful rendition by local singer-songwriter Jayza Duhon of James Wheldon Johnson's "Lift Every Voice and Sing," known as "the Black national anthem." Duhon was accompanied by Randy Campbell on electric guitar.

The groups present then each spoke in turn, with introductions by leaders of the Women's, Disability, Human Rights, Immigrant and Refugee, and LGBTQ Commissions.

LGBTQ Commission co-chair Andrew Ashiofu kicked things off by reading a proclamation from the City.

"Black History Month is a reminder that Black history is Seattle history, Black culture is Seattle's culture, and Black stories are an essential component of the story of our city," he read.

This year's theme was Black resistance, "which stems from a call to action by Henry Highland Garnet in an address to the National Negro Convention of 1843, in which he said, 'No oppressed people have ever secured their liberty without resistance. What kind of resistance you had better make, you must decide by the circumstances that surround you.'"

"As a city," Ashiofu continued, "we celebrate Black History Month by recommitting to the fight for equity, opportunity, dignity, and voting rights, to which every Seattleite is due."

Part of the circumstances surrounding the event was a budget of $27 million for the Black community in the greater Seattle area. "PB" was the buzz in the air that afternoon and evening; it stands for participatory budgeting, a practice wherein citizens decide through a democratic process how to spend allocated public funding.

Researcher Shaun Glaze introduced themself as "Blackity Black, super Queer" and "very happy to be here." And after a moment of silence for the suffering of minorities over the last few years, Glaze recounted the origins of Seattle's participatory budgeting program.

"We as a community — so many of us — we are very familiar with grief and joy coming together," Glaze said. "And it is with grief and joy that I come here with you, because in 2020, there were thousands, hundreds of thousands, of folks in the streets protesting, but also marshaling together, in defense of Black lives and in support of Black futures."

Glaze spoke of the promises of reform the city council had made to the Black community in 2020, after the protests against the murder of George Floyd by police — and how the City said that it didn't know how to go about that kind of change.

"And with that, a group of us got together and said, 'Well, then, if that is the case, we will write you a roadmap,'" Glaze said. "'And we — the few of us who came together — will not be the authors of that roadmap. Community will be the authors of that roadmap.'

"It will be Black folks, indigenous folks, it will be people you have continually, continually, continually not just divested from but ...harmed with your dollars who will write this roadmap. It will be people with disabilities, it will be people experiencing homelessness, it will be people from a variety of different faiths, it will be people you have never heard from but have screamed in your face for generations who will make this roadmap."

Through the founding and the work of the Black Brilliance Research Project, Glaze and "hundreds" of people helped write a 1,300-page document "in excruciating detail for the City, for how they can stop investing in the things that harm us, and start to put that money instead toward the dreams, the visions, the knowledge, the expertise of our community members."

Glaze explained that the Participatory Budgeting Project would be hiring community members "like y'all, to decide what happens next," as well as opening spaces for the "regular-degular" people to discuss and vote on ideas for the budget.

The program "is designed to repeat year after year," meaning its success in 2023 could spell even more funding for projects of this kind.

"But I have bad news," Glaze said. "It only works if we work it. If y'all don't show up to things, if you don't tell your people, if you don't tell your kids — 'cuz it's kids as young as ten that get to be part of this."

A few in the audience hollered in support.

"This only works if we work it," Glaze repeated.

The announcements ended with jump-starting that mindset of participation with a call-and-response chant: "I am creating... Black futures!"

Tana Yasu, co-chair of the Seattle Women's Commission, then invited the audience to try the free food and drink made and brought in by community members, like gorgeously decorated chocolate strawberries and homemade lemonade.

Just in front of the buffet, info tables were set up for the various commissions, POCAAN, Brothers United in Leadership Development, and other organizations.

Since I Been Down, a sober film about the persecution and incarceration of Black youth in 1980s and 1990s Tacoma, played in a separate room. Panel discussions followed, with the filmmakers and members of both the Black Prisoners Caucus and the audience speaking at length about how to prepare their children for the realities of being Black in the United States.

Ashiofu took to the stage again, with three other Queer Black people, to discuss racism on dating apps, or while trying to access resources for people living with HIV/AIDS, and within the Queer community itself.

Turnout for the event was sparse until the end, however, when a crowd of supportive families and fans filled the aisles of the panel room to watch a drag show starring local Black queens and kings, including Leo Mane.