In the past, I showed up like most attendees do: to represent my organization, connect with leaders doing powerful work, and learn from the stories and strategies shaping this field. I wasn’t thinking about everything that goes into planning a conference of this magnitude—especially one that seeks to convene participants from across the country and amplify insights from the frontlines of violence intervention work over just two days.

But to us, these dangerous actions highlighted just how important it was to create a safe space for those doing this work. Our team adapted to our new circumstances and doubled down on our mission to ensure those most impacted by gun violence lead the conversation and shape the direction of national strategy despite efforts to erase their work. It is an honor to be part of such a driven team of compassionate leaders who are dedicated to furthering CVI. 

Prior to the conference, there were several times I found myself overwhelmed as I took in everything that goes into ensuring 1,000 people take part in a worthwhile experience. My colleague Kris McLucas kindly reminded me to “trust the process,” and his reassuring message grounded my approach to the experience. I also watched how this approach resonated with attendees throughout the conference—the exchanges of fellowship, curiosity, and courage reinforced a fundamental truth: while this movement is navigating uncertain ground, homegrown peacemakers have not faltered in their trust that this work works and will continue to exist regardless of political challenges.

Providing this station was important for our team, because we know firsthand that as part of this movement, our motivations come from a mixture of grief, love, memories, and purpose that stems from loss in our communities. Often, the motivation that drives so many of us gets lost in trying to push good work forward—so we made the decision to ensure our conference is a space that honors what we carry and who we do this work for. 

Even today, I’m still remembering the power of Monday morning. During part of conference’s opening plenary session, “In Their Own Words: The Sacrifices and Struggles of CVI Workers,” our vice president of GIFFORDS Center for Violence Intervention, Paul Carrillo, asked Skipp Townsend from 2nd Call and Sam Castro from the Institute for Nonviolence Chicago to reflect on moments of failure in their frontline work. The experience that Sam shared moved me to tears.

He reflected on a painful moment of losing a participant of his program to gun violence and the solace he found in the community as he grieved. Sam recalled, “What brought the healing back to me was when the mother asked me to speak at his funeral. When I asked her ‘Why me?’ She said, ‘Because my son said you changed his life.’ But I asked, ‘How did I change his life and we are burying him?’ But the mom came and hugged me and said, ‘But you tried Sam, and I saw the transformation in him,’ and I said, ‘I’ll take that, and it was a blessing.’” 

Sam’s vulnerability reflected the difficult truths that frontline leaders face in this work as they transform their pain into purpose. For me, this moment further contextualized the proof that homegrown peacemakers exemplify an irrefutable investment in their communities by showing up every day to interrupt violence. It also demonstrated that even through devastating loss, their work is transforming our communities for the better and people are noticing.

The following day I was struck by the mainstage plenary called “The Weight We Carry,”  which honored key elements to the field’s strength that are often overlooked: women’s leadership and their emotional labor contributions to CVI. Facilitated by Timmeka Perkins from the Annie E. Casey Foundation, Dyann Barrientos from Garden Pathways, and Nichelle Sadler from UTEC, the session honored the women who lead, nurture, and hold a significant weight in this work, often without credit or compensation for the toll it takes. The audience responded with not one but two standing ovations, a rare moment of collective recognition for contributions that usually happen quietly—without applause.

As a woman of color in this movement, it was validating to hear women leaders affirm the experience of navigating tensions that come with being emotional and cultural anchors in our roles while also attempting to keep our teams grounded in the work. Their honesty reflected back an experience I’ve lived but don’t often hear acknowledged out loud, and their diverse perspectives provided me with motivation that I didn’t even know I needed.

My experience also included the opportunity to proudly facilitate a plenary session, “From Alignment to Action: Cross-Movement Thought Partnership on Coalition Building,” in which I was joined by some of my mentors: Adzi Vokhiwa from Community Justice, Alicia B. Nichols from Onboard Consulting, and Will Simpson from EJUSA. During this plenary session, we surfaced crucial lessons in coalition building within the CVI field and the domestic violence movement.

I’m leaving this experience carrying both gratitude and a deeper sense of duty. Our movement is under attack in ways that are real and personal, but this event proved to me that when we gather with intention, when we center connection, healing, and purpose, we do more than share ideas—we create momentum. And while trusting the process wasn’t always comfortable, it taught me something essential: we are stronger when we build together, and this work will outlast any attempt to silence it.

Community violence intervention saves lives from gun violence. The work of everyone in this field is indispensable, and GIFFORDS Center for Violence Intervention is grateful to be a part of this community. To everyone who joined us in Los Angeles, thank you for trusting us with your stories and your time. Thank you for believing in this work and in each other. Our movement is still standing, still growing, and still shaping the future of community safety—not just in policy rooms, but in every room where people come together with love, courage, and purpose.