




We are myriad communities in mourning for one woman, whose love for humanity was as multilayered as her pursuit of justice.





We are myriad communities in mourning for one woman, whose love for humanity was as multilayered as her pursuit of justice.
This excerpted obituary was written by Tim Murphy and originally published online by TheBody
In recent weeks, veteran activists in the HIV/AIDS world and well beyond have been remembering and celebrating the life of Joan Gibbs, a pioneering New York City–based Black lesbian activist and civil rights lawyer. In the 1980s, Gibbs provided legal representation to members of ACT UP—the groundbreaking activist group that in its late ’80s–early ’90s heyday pressured the government and other officials on HIV/AIDS issues. She also founded, co-founded, or contributed to an extraordinary range of efforts for women, people of color, and LGBTQ people, including legal representation for Black Panthers and other political prisoners.
Gibbs died … in her longtime home in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, on March 14 of undisclosed causes. She had been
ill for several months, friends said. She was 71. …[S]he is survived by [her cousin, Monique Mackey], goddaughters and numerous longtime activist friends.
“We are myriad communities in mourning for one woman, whose love for humanity was as multilayered as her pursuit of justice,” wrote Gibbs’s friend Karen D. Taylor in a Medium post, which includes photos, memories, and tributes to Gibbs from dozens of people. “So much so that she devoted nearly her entire life—from adolescence to death—to easing the constrictions and restrictions of unencumbered patriarchal capitalism on top of racism, sexism, and hatred of any non-hetero sexuality.”
Gibbs was born in Harlem, New York City, in 1953 and spent her early years in the small coastal town of Swan Quarter, North Carolina, where—she said in an hour-long 2012 interview with the ACT UP Oral History Project—a female cousin of hers was lynched when Gibbs was in fourth grade. In that same interview, Gibbs said that she derived her political consciousness from her mother, who read James Baldwin and helped women secure abortions before they were legal nationwide.
Gibbs grew up primarily in New York City, attending the selective public high school Bronx Science, where she joined the Young Socialists Alliance. Joseph Harris, MD, a friend from that time told TheBody that she was “sharp, but quiet and thoughtful.” He recalls them appearing on local TV together for one reason or another. “It was the only time I ever saw her in a dress and make-up.”
Gibbs earned her bachelor’s degree at SUNY’s Empire State University before Afeni Shakur, a political activist and the mother of the late rapper Tupac Shakur, urged her to go to law school, which she did. After graduating from Rutgers University with her law degree in 1985, Gibbs worked with the Center for Constitutional Rights and the American Civil Liberties Union Women’s Rights Project, then returned to the Center for Constitutional Rights. For twenty-eight years, she was general counsel for the Center for Law and Social Justice at Medgar Evers College. Often under the paid umbrella of these organizations, but sometimes also pro bono, she represented (sometimes in coalition) several political
prisoners, including Mumia Abu-Jamal, Sundiata Acoli, Herman Ferguson, and Dhoruba Bin Wahad. But that list only nicks the surface of all she did.
She was a member in the 1970s of the National Lawyers Guild’s Grand Jury Project, defending activists against grand-jury abuse; founded the late ’70s–early ’80s Black lesbian literary magazine Azalea; co-founded Dykes Against Racism Everywhere (DARE) in 1979, which traveled to North Carolina to protest the murders of antiracist demonstrators; volunteered at New York City’s Rikers jail complex; wrote poetry; was co-chair of the leftist cultural center the Brecht Forum; launched a Facebook discussion group for LGBTQ left-wingers in an effort to revitalize that wing of the queer community; traveled more than once to Cuba, whose revolution she admired; and was part of the coalition that organized successfully to overturn the death sentence of famed political prisoner Mumia Abu-Jamal.
Alumni of ACT UP–New York remember the pro bono legal work for the group done by Gibbs. Gibbs told the Oral History Project that she started attending the group’s meetings after her friend Jimmy died from complications of AIDS. She frequently worked with other lawyers to lessen the legal punishment that ACT UP members would have faced for their civil disobedience. Partly because of her efforts, no ACT UP member in the city ever served a significant jail or prison sentence. Instead, they were often assigned community service.
In the Oral History Project interview, she called ACT UP “one of the best expressions of progressive politics that has existed since the Civil Rights Movement—so that’s a high compliment.” She then burst into her exuberant laugh. However, she lamented that since ACT UP’s heyday, so many activist groups had become, rather than autonomous street organizers, 501c3 nonprofits that accepted money from large funders like the Rockefeller and Ford foundations that controlled what political issues groups could work on.
“That’s how marriage [equality] became such a thing, because the money was there for it,” she said. “[Helping] homeless LGBTQ people—that’s not going to get money.”
In a call with TheBody, ACT UP alum Ann Northrop remembered of Gibbs: “She was always extremely sensible and passionate, but also very level-headed, approachable, and easy to talk to about anything.” Northrop noted that Gibbs, while having her principles, also had an open, flexible mind. As an example, she cited an occasion when Gibbs appeared on Gay USA, the queer cable TV show that Northrop co-hosts. During that appearance, Gibbs shared that she’d come around to supporting marriage equality after learning how it improved the legal and financial standing of same-sex couples.
“A lot of us activists can get very didactic and doctrinaire, but Joan really wanted to listen and have a conversation,” said Northrop. “She was sincerely curious.” Northrop’s program ran a tribute to Gibbs on March 20.
On Taylor’s Medium page tribute, ACT UP alum Charles Franchino wrote: “Forever grateful to her. She represented 7 of us ACT UP members at a court hearing after we all missed the original date. The judge wasn’t happy and instead of dismissing the charges … opted for a trial. It was her lawyering that got us off. Convinced the judge to release us on some technical ground.”
Gibbs stopped her ACT UP work in 1990 to serve as live-in caretaker for her mother, who’d had a stroke, she said in the 2012 interview.
Reminiscing about Gibbs, Elise Harris, a former partner of Gibbs, told TheBody, “She was a wonderful person ... and a towering intellect. I consider myself very lucky to have spent
time with her. She combined pragmatic experience with intense scholarship, an unusual combination.”
On the Medium page tribute, Harris also posted a long, often funny list of little-known facts about Gibbs: “She felt that ACT UP was the second-best thing to come out of the LGBT community, after Stonewall. ... Joan spent Saturday nights at Barnes & Noble. She would choose three or four 400-page books, often biographies, buy food in the cafe, prop open a book, and read all night. ... She studied theater in college. She liked Marat/Sade. ... She loved Naiad lesbian romance novels. ... She wore a long caftan around her house.”
Gibbs was deeply loved by Imani Henry, a Black trans activist in Brooklyn who lived around the corner from Gibbs and said that she gave a great deal of moral and other support to Equality for Flatbush, the anti-gentrification group that Henry started in 2013. On a call with TheBody, Henry said that Gibbs often held legal clinics at Medgar Evers for the community on various topics.
“She loved Black people, she loved Brooklyn, and she was always figuring out how to have the average person in Brooklyn benefit,” said Henry. “I considered her an auntie. She took me in. It was nice to have this Black political leader who was also queer and masculine in presentation. She showed up and took care of others, whether they were political prisoners, students, activists, or queer women. Her exterior was tough as nails, but underneath it, she was warm and caring.”
With Gibbs’ death, New York City’s queer community loses yet another veteran activist whose politics dated back to a more radical and intersectional vision for LGBTQ people, as opposed to one simply of assimilation into mainstream culture. “Is there a gay left now?” she asked in the 2012 interview. Quoting a chant for marriage equality, “We are everywhere and we’re just like you,” she added, “I never liked that.”
Joan P. Gibbs is affectionately called Phyllis by her family. On any given day, we would joke with her about what that initial “P” stood for—protector, protestor, provider, and pride. Phyllis took great pride in her family lineage from Swan Quarter, North Carolina, and often reflected upon characteristics and attributes that were passed from one generation to the next: resilience, creativity, ingenuity, intellect, and the ability to connect with nature by growing plants and herbs and turning them into delicious dishes or cures for ailments. Phyllis always felt it was important to stay connected to her family, whether they remained on the land in Swan Quarter or if they migrated north to New York and Virginia.
Phyllis loved being at the family gatherings for holidays, cookouts, and dinners. She was always one to give the stamp of approval to the cook of a good dish, “Oh, this tastes really good. I didn’t realize how good of a cook you are.” She
also was one to engage in spirited conversations, offering a different perspective on a topic or motivating the youth of the family to make good trouble, be bold thinkers, and take a stand. As children, the cousins would often be in amazement at Phyllis’s intellect and how she used her skills and knowledge as a support for family and friends.
Phyllis’s greatest attribute was truly her commitment to family. She always made herself available as the family attorney, advisor, and counselor. Her dedication and love for her parents was unwavering and visible as she cared for her mother during her long-term illness. Phyllis was a firm believer in pouring into your loved ones while they are here with us, celebrating them after their transition, and speaking their names so their spirit and works continue to live on in future generations. Let us all continue to love the spirit and speak the name of Joan Phyllis Gibbs.
Her name was Joan Gibbs—a lawyer by training, an activist by instant, and a woman who lived her life in social movements fighting for social change. She was born on January 17, 1953 in Harlem, New York. She was raised in Swan Quarter, North Carolina, where her family dwelled. She would return to New York when she was fourteen years old. She attended the Bronx High School of Science during the ‘60s, a time of tumult and social ferment. She later attended SUNY Empire State College, where she earned her bachelor’s degree. Black Panther veteran and member of the famed Panther 21, Afeni Shakur, advised her to go to law school, which she did. Shakur may perhaps be better known as the mother of rap superstar, Tupac Shakur.
Joan would graduate Rutgers Law School in 1985, where she studied Constitutional and Civil Rights Law. The rest, of course, is history. Joan Gibbs blazed a remarkable path in the law. She was named the Marvin Karpatkin Fellow of the National Office of the ACLU. She served as staff attorney of the ACLU’s Women’s Rights Project. She was also a member of the National Conference of Black Lawyers International Affairs Section. She also served as staff attorney for the Center for Constitutional Rights. For almost thirty years, she served as general counsel for the Center for Law and Social Justice at Medgar Evers College in her beloved Brooklyn. She threw her prodigious energies into protect-
ing the constitutional rights of many of the oppressed and downtrodden. She aided in the cases of political prisoners like the late Black nationalist, Herman Ferguson, and Black Panthers like Dhoruba Bin-Wahad and Sundiata Acoli.
She also played an important role and the defense of the group known as ACT UP, which engaged in numerous protests in the ‘80s and ‘90s to bring attention to those suffering from AIDS-HIV. Her colleagues called her the ultimate compliment, a lawyer’s lawyer.
In her personal life she strolled down the Lavender Lane as a lesbian woman. She helped found Azalea, a magazine of Third World lesbians, featuring poetry, fiction, and works by Audre Lorde, Sapphire, and Jewelle Gomez. She spent her Saturdays by going to Barnes and Noble, grabbing several thick lesbian romance novels and reading all night long.
Where did her political consciousness come from? Where else? Her mother, Ruth Juanita Gibbs, who loved to read James Baldwin. One of her former partners, Elise Harris, called Joan a towering intellect. She joined the Young Socialist Alliance in high school before she went to law school. She worked for the legendary radical film group, Liberation News Service. She lived through seventy-one seasons of spring. With love, not fear.
Sista Joan was my sister from another mother. We both have North Carolina roots with just miles separating our ancestral families. We met in the mid 70s and hit it off right away. As the years went by, we wound up at demos, organizing meetings and parties that brought us closer. We would have long political discussions ranging from local politics, to reparations, global capitalism, and Black culture. We spent long times over delicious (and sometimes not so delicious) meals and wine discussing the past, present, and future of Marx-
Thank you, Attorney Joan Gibbs.
Attorney Joan Gibbs was one of those unassuming, quiet warriors. She got her point across effectively without a whole lot of uproar. She was solid.
She called the People’s Republic of Brooklyn home. It was apropos. If she was in the room you could be sure that an issue for the people was being discussed, defended, and on
ism, socialism, communism, and their impact on the Black Liberation Movement. I learned a lot from being with her as a coworker at Medgar Evers College’s Center for Law and Social Justice, and being on the Brecht Forum board with her. Joan’s legal brilliance never ceased to leave me awestruck. Our solidarity work included traveling to Cuba to do solidarity work and, of course, to enjoy Cuba’s culinary gems.My Sista Joan…I miss her laughs and telling me to slow down when walking with her…
the solution-solving path.
Seeing her in The Movement for over two decades, this fighter for Mumia Abu Jamal; this defender and comrade of the late activist and former political prisoner Herman Ferguson; this advocate for women’s rights; this calm, but fierce, intellectual fighter for the people always struck me as having complete knowledge of the law, coupled with the grassroots-focused acumen, to bust through legal, economic, social, and political barriers.
Yes, she was a lawyer who obtained her law degree in 1985 and passed both the New York and New Jersey bars, with a legal career dedicated to the practice of constitutional and civil rights law, but even in casual conversation, this activist, speaker, and unapologetic justice-seeker, would observe a situation, and deftly comment with a sharp, common-sense analysis.
Joan was just confident in her skill set and political ideology. She was uncompromising, astute, and dedicated to the people.
She is missed already.
As a pioneer in the ACT UP movement in New York, she dedicated hundreds of hours to the struggles for health and social benefits in the midst of the HIV-AIDS devastation. As an internationalist, she opposed US militarism, racism , and apartheid. She worked closely with militants in New York City who supported freedom fighters in Central America, Palestine, South Africa, Cuba, and Haiti.
I benefited greatly from her generosity of spirit when, as a moving force at the Center for Constitutional Rights, she agreed to take on the US government who sought to abrogate my basic rights. Together with William Kunstler and David Cole they did the pedantic work to expose the bankruptcy of the US branding of freedom fighters as terrorists.
A great freedom fighter and international activist for people’s rights joined the ancestors.
Joan was a great leader because she possessed quiet strength. She was a wise woman consistent in the struggle for freedom, justice, liberation, and social change. Joan dedicated her legal expertise to constitutional and civil rights law. She was a dedicated friend of the disenfranchised at
home and abroad, including Cuba. In fact, Joan played a pivotal role in getting the New York City Council resolution passed calling for Cuba to be taken off of the State Sponsors of Terrorism List and for an end to all cruel and unjust sanctions!!
We are grateful for the years that Joan supported the work of IFCO/Pastors for Peace and for the generosity she extended to countless other causes.
A staunch advocate for political prisoners, immigrants, women’s and LGBTQ rights, Joan will always be remembered as a champion for the neglected and forgotten.
In love and solidarity, thank you, sister Joan, for the many lessons you taught us!
The late 1970s and early 1980s were difficult times to be involved in progressive legal/political work. This was the “malaise” of the Jimmy Carter years followed by the stark right-ward shift of the Reagan years. It was during this time that I met and began working with Joan Gibbs. Joan was a legal worker at the Grand Jury Project of the National Lawyers Guild (NLG) fighting and exposing grand jury abuse. Joan’s legal and political work in this area was ground breaking. As the 1970s turned into the 1980s, the targets of abuse were the Puerto Rican Independence Movement and Black Liberation Movement. By this time, Joan had her law degree and was a staff attorney at CCR. I was staff attorney at the Grand Jury Project and Afeni Shakur was one of the legal workers. Together, we worked to build awareness of grand jury abuse, most particularly against people of color. Joan was extremely sensitive to the racism, sexism, and homophobia within progressive movements. I recall many evenings, after work was done, commiserating with Joan over these issues (and over a few drinks). While we often shook our heads in disgust, there was plenty of laughter over movement hypocrisy. Finally, Joan was a major player in securing freedom for Black political prisoner Herman Ferguson. She never refused to volunteer to work on behalf of other political prisoners as well. Thank you, Joan. Rest in Power.
To my extraordinary godmother, Joan P. Gibbs, your love, passion, and integrity have left an indelible mark on my life. Your happiness was intricately linked to the pursuit of freedom, justice, and equality for all. From the LGBTQ community to women’s rights, civil rights, global initiatives, and the many organizations you have touched. To say I looked up to you is an understatement; you were my guiding light, my inspiration.
I am deeply grateful for the privilege of having you in my life. Your impact reached far and wide, touching countless lives and organizations, leaving behind a legacy of compassion and activism that will endure for generations. You were not just a godmother to me; you were my second mom, my G-mom, my Titi Joan, my confidante, my rock.
You welcomed us into your heart and home, showering us with unconditional love and support. While many admired you as a lawyer and activist, I saw you as Titi Joan, the seafood-loving, anti-racist, communist, atheist, and legendary freedom fighter whose life experiences deserve their own documentary. Yet, your humility and selflessness always prevailed; you preferred to uplift others in their struggles rather than seek recognition for yourself.
Our time together was filled with your stories, each one more extraordinary than the last. From your genius at
three years old, being able to solve algebraic equations, to your courageous acts of defiance during the Civil Rights Movement, attending Bronx High School of Science, cutting school with friends at fourteen years old to hop on the bus going to Washington DC to protest. At the young age of eighteen, facing harassment and surveillance from the FBI for your activism. Even being the godmother to the late Tupac Shakur, whom you visited in the hospital and provided legal counsel to after he was shot. And how his mother, your good friend, Afeni Shakur said you should become a lawyer to help your friends (all facts, no novel). Your life reads like an epic novel, brimming with courage, resilience, and unwavering conviction.
Your commitment to justice led you to become a lawyer, advocating for those in need, including Assata Shakur’s co-defendant—now free after being a pollical prisoner for forty-nine years—Sundiata Acoli. Your unwavering support for the Black Panther Party exemplified your commitment to the struggle for Black liberation and empowerment. You recognized the importance of their advocacy and stood in solidarity with their efforts to combat systemic racism and oppression. Your journey also included a profound connection to communism and Cuba, drawn by their anti-racist beliefs and support for African people without exploitation.
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You remained steadfast in your dedication to fighting for equality.Your story transcends the pages of fiction; it is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring quest for justice. Thank you, Titi Joan, for all that you have accomplished and for your unwavering commitment to the greater good. Your legacy will continue to inspire and guide us as we strive to build a more just and equitable world.
I worked with Joan Gibbs at the Center for Constitutional Rights in the 80s and 90s. Occasionally, we would run into each other (mostly at demonstrations), the last time before the pandemic at the Brooklyn Museum. We greeted each other with big hugs and (unfulfilled) promises to meet for dinner. I teased her about owning a brownstone “like other rich people” and she responded that she and her mother had moved to Brooklyn to get away from the white people and now white people were all over her street, causing problems!
One particular legal memory: She and Bill Kunstler represented the lesbian and gay community suing the St. Patrick’s Day Parade organizers who excluded LGBT people from participating on the specious grounds that it was solely a “religious (Catholic) parade.” But Joan and Bill had discovered that previously such groups as the “Yiddish Sons of Erin” had marched. So much for the “religious” content of the parade! I remember so well seeing her sitting at the lawyer’s table in the courtroom, very calm and assured.
Joan was endearing and funny and she cared–about her clients, about all suffering communities—and about building a future where every single person would flourish.
Joan was a brilliant, strategic thinker and doer as a proud Black lesbian leftist who was a forerunner of the intersectional action that’s now widely considered essential for social change. She had monumental significance to multiple movements. I just want to highlight a few:
• As an independent attorney, Joan represented former Black Panther Party members such as Sundiata Acoli (co-defendant of Assata Shakur) in their efforts to overturn unjust convictions. In the 1990s, she played a key role in the legal and political defense of Mumia Abu-Jamal when he was facing execution.
• In the 70s, Joan was active with the Committee for Abortion Rights and Against Sterilization Abuse (CARASA) which fought to always fight for reproductive rights holistically, including issues particularly affecting women of color.
• Joan cofounded early 80s group DARE (Dykes Against Racism Everywhere). DARE fought both racism in the lesbian/gay movement and homophobia in the Black movement.
• Joan legally represented many members of AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, popularly known as ACT UP, in their militant protests and direct actions and in courtrooms. She considered mostly queer ACT UP “one of the best expressions of progressive politics that has existed since the Civil Rights Movement.”
Finally, I want to say, as a member of both Resistance in Brooklyn and the collective that produces the Out-FM weekly, queer, Left program on WBAI, that Joan was also a periodic contributing producer to our program, as well as a dear friend and ally whom we miss tremendously.
Our relationship spanned a half-a century. She was my Sista, my friend, law-school tutor, my mentor as an Ella Baker intern at the Center for Constitutional Rights (CCR). Confidant, best critic, editor, and so much more. In 1978, we mobilized support for the Black women of the Laurel, Mississippi Sanderson Farms chicken processing strike; supported the 1979-81 Mothers of the Atlanta Child Murders. She was my go -to interviewee during early mornings over WBAI. In 2014, we picketed in front of the Nigerian Embassy demanding that the Nigerian government do more to bring home the girls kidnapped by the terrorist group Boko Haram. She was a member of our Sistahood, Harriet’s Daughters, a group that came together to give underrecognized women in The Movement their laurels. But most importantly she was our family. There is a gallery of hundreds of photos of what we did together: Dinners, jazz concerts, union rallies, demos, travels to Cuba, sitting high in the cheap seat balcony of Madison Square Garden listening to the last 2011 Prince concert. Exchanging vegetarian menus as we both moved to eat healthier.
I have so many hours of messages we shared about the politics of the day, always with her “What’s happening?” greeting. So, I retrieved many from deleted texts. Our Cuba
solidarity work is memorialized in our co-authored, signed letters, petitions, resolutions, newspaper articles, and pamphlets that we produced on behalf of the organization CubaSi.
She loved mussels and Chardonnay. I don’t care for either, but I will eat a meal and drink to her memory in celebration of her life.
I miss her so much in my own grief. But Love is Grief and Grief is love.
June 8, 2024 | 1pm to 5pm | The People’s Forum 320 W. 37th Street New York, NY
Invocation
Joyce Jones and an assembly of Sista Drummers
As of the printing of this booklet, all of the sista drummers had not been identified. We apologize for the omission.
Welcome Manolo De Los Santos, executive director and founder of the People’s Forum
Cohosts
Imani Henry, founder and organizer with Equality for Flatbush-Fighting Gentrification and Holding Police Accountable in Brooklyn
Karen D. Taylor
Slide Show, Part I
Joan’s activism with family and friends
Musical Performance
Ptah Brown, vocals
Reflections and Remembrances
Sundiata Acoli
Amina Baraka reads selected poetry by Joan
Open Mic, Part I
(Please limit remarks to two minutes)
Message from Malkia Devich-Cyril, child of Joan’s sister by love, Janet Cyril
Music Performance
Circa95: Reph Star and Pattiduke
Remembrances and Proclamations
Esmeralda Simmons, founder of the Center for Law and Social Justice at Medgar Evers College, CUNY
Music Performance
Tulani Kinard
Slide Show, Part II
Joan’s activism with family and friends
Family Remembrances
Poetry and Music Performance
Tulani Kinard
Reflections and Remembrances
Ambassador Yuri A. Gala López - Cuban Ambassador to the United Nations
Repass
Open Mic, Part II
Reflections and Remembrances
Attorney Florence Morgan of the National Conference of Black Lawyers (NCBL)
Musical Performance
Ptah Brown
Documentary Excerpt
Introduced by Lateefah Carter
Solo Piano
Marcus Persiani
For decades I enjoyed a wonderful friendship with Joan and had the privilege of working with her on various fronts. I met Joan when I joined the National Conference of Black Lawyers (NCBL): She was a member at the time of her transition.
Joan had the full package. She was a very dedicated daughter, a loyal friend, a committed activist and very principled. Joan used her brilliance to push for fundamental change, while being realistic about the changes that her activism could affect.
During some of NCBL New York chapter’s most active years, Joan participated in Community Law Day programs where she would provide immigration information to the public as we met on the streets. Those events were held in Harlem, Brooklyn, Bronx and Queens, and Joan was always willing to support her chapter. The diversity of movements she par-
Of course I have the memory of her laugh and her kindness. She steadied me through the surveillance in ACT UP. Funnily enough, I called her in 2016 as I was working with a group of artists and analysts to shame Ivanka Trump, and we created an Instagram page called “dear ivanka,” with all these swanky artists. I like to think we drove her out of town or out of her mind, lol. When one of the artists, Alex DaCorte, found himself in receipt of thousands of email and phone
ticipated in will probably not be fully known, because she worked quietly for change. Among so many other movements, Joan worked to free political prisoners, but never sought accolades. She did not need her name to be at the top of the list, or on the list at all… Her work was for the cause.
I will remember Joan for many things, but one of the things I remember is her infectious laugh. At times I want so badly to call Joan to talk about the unprincipled demagogues in politics, then I am saddened that I cannot.
Sometimes, when a person transitions, there is much to say that had not been said to them, but I truly can say, Joan embodied a great warrior soul who was unpretentious and pragmatic. She would end her emails with, “peace and bright blessings.” She indeed was a bright blessing.
Rest now, my friend, rest now.
death threats for devaluing a piece of art that ivanka bought from him years ago—basically nullifying its worth—he lived in Philly. I didn’t know what to tell Alex so I instinctively called Joan. She hooked him up with supporters of Mumia Abu Jamal. She said, “The dude has to be with people to be ok and these people will be ok for him to be with.” She made calls and gave me numbers—last I ever spoke with her. She was unflinching in what she could see and could allow herself to know. That’s why people felt free around her. She left a huge impression on me. She was a charm.
10 May 2024
Joan and I arrived at the Bronx High School of Science in 1968, the year of the threemonth- long New York City teacher’s strike. We were politicized by the events surrounding Science’s “free school,” the Student Rights Movement, the Anti-war Movement, Black Power Movement, Women’s Movement, and Gay Rights Movement.
We were definitely gonna make the revolution.
Not the cheerleader type, we were nerdy Black girls of the Black Cultural Society, going to meetings after school at the New York Civil Liberties Union and National Council of Christians and Jews, writing and mimeographing flyers at the Alternate U, and going to demonstrations in Washington DC.
We were New York City kids eating buttered rolls, grapefruit, and yogurt when we had no money; pizza, Blimpies, Nathan’s frankfurters, and White Castle hamburgers when we did.
I was politically conscious, but Joan was radical and wise. She told me that anytime you have a problem you need to solve, just turn on the radio and listen closely to the words of the first song you hear.
I was smart but Joan was brilliant. She could talk to anybody and was very polite. She had Southern manners: “Yes mam, yes sir.”
I was Black-Black-Blackity-Black but Joan embraced ALL people, and because of her, my scope became broader.
I am sure that Joan Gibbs is in radical heaven somewhere cuttin’ up and chuckling at some ridiculous shit.
We met Joan Gibbs in 1984, after the FBI arrested us, eight Black, revolutionary men and women falsely charged with conspiracies to break Black political prisoners out of jail, who became known as the New York 8 Against Fascist Terrorism. Following our arrests, U.S. Attorney Rudolph Giuliani convened a grand jury and subpoenaed eight of our comrades, including spouses, to testify against us. They, upholding the political principle of non-cooperation with political grand juries, refused to testify. Joan, a member of the National Lawyers Guild’s Grand Jury Project, was a key member of the legal team representing the grand jury resisters. Her energy, analysis, and unmatchable work ethic were invaluable in postponing the inevitable incarceration for “civil contempt,” which the law demands for failure to comply with the grand jury. But, just as importantly, after all legal avenues had been exhausted, Joan helped maintain the spirit and communications between all of us until we defeated the U.S. government in court, after the Grand Jury 8 had served seven months in federal detention. Joan’s life embodied the meaning of a people’s lawyer and she will be dearly missed by us personally and by The Movement in general.
Joan Phyllis Gibbs, revolutionary socialist, civil rights lawyer – defender of the oppressed (especially of political prisoners/ POWs targeted for daring to struggle against the white supremacist, capitalist power structure of US imperialism) and so much more.
As Joan was the lawyer for the New York City Free Mumia Coalition, I had the honor of becoming acquainted with Joan (and my future wife, Cleo Silvers!) in the mid-1990s. This deepened into friendship as Cleo joined with other veteran Black Panthers (and me) to form “Workers to Free Mumia” to focus on building support for freeing Mumia Abu-Jamal in the NY-NJ-Connecticut region unions. I was shocked to learn that Joan and I were both veteran Trotskyists (Joan via Socialist Workers Party (SWP) and myself via Young Socialist Alliance (YSA, SWP’s “youth” group), and the Spartacist League (SL)). We commiserated over the degeneration of both the SWP/YSA and SL into bureaucratic, sterile sects.
Joan was dedicated to freeing her African American communities from the stranglehold of racist capitalist oppression. She recognized that most white workers were deluded by white supremacist rhetoric and actions to join with our common oppressors against their own working-class interests—unity in struggle against white supremacist divide and rule—and joint action for socialist revolution for true freedom and equality for all!
Joan Gibbs was a great friend and supporter who always supported and believed in younger people like me. I have a very fond memory of sitting at her Brooklyn home talking about movement work, her history, her understanding of hip-hop,
more. And I always smiled whenever Ms. Gibbs popped up on my Facebook page with a comment or a like. She was always about community, even in the era of social media. Obviously, Ms. Gibbs’s greatest contributions were what she did for us around justice, empowerment, real freedom, real truth. She will remain in my heart forever as an incredible example for a life of service.
The word “Internationalist” is frequently and causally thrown around in the Left. It has become this cliché that has lost all meaning and sentiment. Few truly exemplify the meaning of this sacred word, and our beloved Sister Joan Gibbs was one.
Throughout the years, Joan Gibbs stood with us as we called for the liberation of Puerto Rico. She marched with us to free the Puerto Rican Political Prisoners and Prisoners of War. She was at our side when we demanded the removal of the U.S. Navy from Vieques. Joan was present and supportive of various liberation movements throughout Latin America and the world. She was truly an Internationalist; a staunch revolutionary that stood for global revolution. Her brilliance, sense of humor, and kindness will be missed.
We, in the ProLibertad Freedom Campaign, say with the deepest love, respect, and admiration, ¡Joan Gibbs Presente!
Joan, my warrior princess, with her legal brilliance and hard work for those fighting with every gasp for air for due process in this vicious, racial-capitalist system. Ah, Joan, intrepid revolutionary and deeply creatively poetic soul, you leave such a legacy to imitate. Thank you for having graced us with your revolutionary loves and talents to fight, to fight, to fight for the downtrodden and to be unflinching in the face of this cruel system, and for support for its demise, by any means necessary. Yes, indeed, you dared to struggle and you did win dear griot. You won by championing oh so many causes and inspiring us to follow your path. Now that’s what I call a winner.
The Sales Family wishes to express its condolences to all of you upon the transition of Joan. She was an exemplary comrade to so many over the years and in so many arenas of struggle for progress and a better, more equitable world. Joan helped us in both political and personal situations as a consummate professional and an empathetic and selfless friend. Joan will be missed but her life was a model of revolutionary commitment which we all would do well to emulate. Rest assured that, as Fanon would say, Joan came into this world in relative obscurity, but she fulfilled rather than betrayed her historic mission. For this, Joan Gibbs is a true hero to the people and our family is glad that she came our way.
When I was first asked to share the impact of this gargantuan loss to The Movement, to her family, to her class, her people, and to me personally, my first thought was to go through our years of emails and texts. This would have meant reading thousands of words. Then, I thought even a thousand words would be insufficient to tell even a tiny corner of what Phyllis/Joan Gibbs’s life meant to so many thousands of us.
Joan meant so much to me: best friend, political collaborator, traveling companion, cooking and dinner/restaurant partner (all over the country). (Remind me to tell you about the time we ate chitterlings and potato salad after the Million Mumia March in Philadelphia and the smell stayed on our breath for a week). Joan was a laugh and secret sharer—Panther secrets, girlie secrets, poet, political, and educational secrets. She was a friend sharer, matchmaker, helper, sometimes my personal attorney, and daily information sharer (we spoke at least every other day most years). She
was a loving friend, who always assured me that if Ron and I ever needed a place to stay, her house was our other home.
Joan and I met the first time when I was just dipping into my organizing work in the South Bronx and I was organizing in the high schools in the Bronx. She was a fifteenyear-old sophomore at Bronx Science. She was a feisty little thing! Neither of us ever forgot our first meeting when she informed me that she was a member of the Socialist Worker’s Party and not the Young Socialists League.
Joan and I shared twin heart attacks. The wonder of Joan/ Phyllis Gibbs: While she was recuperating from her own heart attack, she called me in the hospital to tell me she was coming up to Mount Sinai to see me after my heart surgery. Thank goodness for our mutual friends who talked her out of that!
My dear Joanie, I love you so much
Joan P. Gibbs: “The People’s Lawyer”
The start of a typical day with Joan P. Gibbs, The People’s Lawyer, at the Center for Law and Social Justice in Brooklyn, New York —
I walk into the office, fresh from the gym. The first person to rush to greet me, as she holds her takeout cup of hot Lipton tea, would be Joan. Before I can say “Good morning, Joan,” she’d blurt out “Did you see that (court) decision/report about xxxxx !?!!! I think we should take this on. It has broad negative implications for Black folks in the future. I can frame a Fourteenth Amendment claim on this. What do you think?!!!”
What a joy it was to work with Joan! An ever-vigilant, super-smart, sharp, enthusiastic warrior. She would be ten steps ahead of me in current events. And she was a full partner in our strategy meetings. Plus, she was perpetually, sarcastically funny. Her co-workers would petition her to go pro, as a standup comedian. She’d refused saying that she was too shy. But, she wasn’t shy about singing very loudly in the office though. I told her to sing her head off, but close her office door. She really wasn’t a very good songster, but she made up for it with the passionate way she sang her songs. Joan was crazy about Nina Simone. Well, so am I, but unlike Joan, I don’t think that I can sing like Nina. Joan sang away. Bless her.
Joan was a true shero to so many people that folks considered underdogs. Without fanfare, she dedicated her life to The Movement. She was the quiet force behind a great many victories during a period, when victories were few and far between. This quiet, bespectacled, shy, slight-figured person was a mighty force behind the pen. She was a powerhouse for justice when armed with the law. She knew practically everyone in The Movement and held the long-time troopers in high respect
For over twenty years, I was blessed to work with her at the Center for Law and Social Justice at Medgar Evers College of The City University of New York. Joan served as the General Counsel of this small racial justice legal institution. Joan single handedly prevailed in case after case, (mostly class action lawsuits, which are notoriously difficult to win): foster care discrimination against Black families, voting rights, NYS budget discrimination against POC non-profits, decades of redistricting cases for Black folks’ voting rights, criminal justice issues, educational equity, immigration, religious discrimination against parents who practice tradition African religion. She advocated on dozens of public policy issues affecting Black New Yorkers. She did all that for her day job. She never missed a court deadline or a staff meeting!
But, just as significant in Joan’s life was the hard labor that she conducted “pro bono” in her off hours -- tons and years of her legal work for Black political prisoners by Joan Gibbs led to the release of Herman Ferguson from prison and the removal of Mumia from death row. She fought for LBGT rights, women’s rights, and for progressive electoral politics. She was noted for serving as a legal monitor at dozens of dozens of left demonstrations.
And, she did all this while being the principal caregiver and companion to her disabled mother. Joan did not travel for decades because she needed be home each night for her mother, whom she adored.
Joan was one of the most loving persons that I have ever met. I am honored to call her my co-counsel, but humbled to call the great Joan P. Gibbs “my friend.”
We will call her name, Joan Priscilla Gibbs, forever—she will live on as our powerful ancestor.
Dear friends,
Our sister in struggle, Joan Gibbs honoured Cuba with the most important gift, TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
Her life left an indelible mark on us through her unwavering commitment to the Cuban Revolution, her solidarity in the battle for the freedom of the Cuban Five, her demands to end the US blockade and her tireless actions to remove Cuba from the illegitimate list of "State Sponsors of Terrorism".
We are convinced that her legacy will live on for new generations of revolutionaries and activists inspired by he r relentless defence of social justice.
“Death is not true , when the work of life has been well accomplished.”
In loving memory of Joan Phyllis Gibbs. (1953-2024)
(an anti-racist fighter forever), president of the Identities and Diversity Section—Series of the Cuban Society of Psychology. Member of the Coordinating Leadership of the Cuban Afro-feminist Articulation
Querida Joan Gibbs llegaste a mi vida cuando estaba iniciando un proceso de intercambio de experiencias con ese tu país de diferentes formas.
Los primeros contactos fueron en la casa de la hermana Jean Weisman quien fue una Hada Madrina por vincularme a un Panel sobre la representación de la Mujer en LASA 2003 y a presentar la película sobre la alfabetización ”Maestra” en diversos lugares. Allí en su casa me fuiste a visitar y conectamos de inmediato, muchas cosas en común a compartir sobre todo de nuestro rol de activismo por los derechos humanos. Creció la amistad, el cariño y la identificación, me encantaron tus sombreros, tu onda y amor la Jazz.
Fuiste mi ejemplo en amor y solidaridad. Viví en tu casa más de una vez, llena de sabidurías y libros mágicos de temas que nunca había abordado. Viviste en la mía, que también era tuya y compartimos amigas de allá y aquí, y actividades de nuestra Jornada de lucha contra la homolesbotransfobia quedando tu legado como una marca imborrable. Amiga, nunca te olvidaremos!! Fuimos eternas albabetizadoras con nuestra lucha. Norma Rita Guillard Limonta luchadora antirracista por siempre!
Dear Joan Gibbs, you came into my life when I was beginning a process of experiencing your country through many diverse exchanges.
I first met you at the home of Sister Jean Weisman who was the fairy godmother who connected me to a panel on women’s representation issues at LASA 2003, and then on to present the “Maestra” literacy film at various places.
You came to visit me at her house and we connected immediately. We shared so many things in common, especially our activism for human rights.
Our friendship, affection, and identification grew. I loved your hats, your vibe, and your love of Jazz.
You were my example in love and solidarity. I lived in your house for a period of time. It was always full of wisdom and magical books on topics I had never addressed. You also lived at my house, which became yours and we shared friends from here and from there, and our shared activities from our daily struggles to fight homo-lesbo-transphobia, in which your legacy leaves an indelible mark.
My friend, we will never forget you!! We are eternal literacy educators in our struggle!
Photo Captions
Due to logistical and time constraints, most of the photographs in this booklet have incomplete captions or no captions at all.
Page 2 Esperanza Martell, Rosemari Mealy, and Joan
Page 8 Cousin Dave, Joan
Page 9
Page 10
Page 11
Page 12
Top left, Amina Baraka, Joan, Dhoruba Bin-Wahad, Unknown
Top right, Ramona Africa, Pam Africa, Joan
Below right, Mumia Abu Jamal poster, Tony Montero, Ramona Africa, Joan
Top left, Joan
Top right, Joan and in front of her, Sam Anderson, Others are Unknown
Middle left, Joan, Iyaluua Ferguson, Dequi Kioni-sadiki
Top left, Joan, Unknown
Top right, Front row, Jeffrey B. Perry, Joan, Horace Campbell, Back row, Unknown
Lower right, Most of the people pictured here are unidentiUied, but front row, Gail Walker, Norma, Mafe, Joan, Joe Kaye
Page 14 Top, Anti-racist march, middle right, position paper by organization that Joan founded, Dykes Against Racism Everywhere (DARE)
Page 15 Top, Brenda Stokely, Nellie Bailey, Joan, Rosemari Mealy, Karen D. Taylor, Cleo Silvers. We called ourselves Harriet’s Daughters. Our purpose was to pay homage to women in the movement who were underrecognized. That day, we honored Amina Baraka, Mae Jackson, and Iyaluua Ferguson.
Page 18
Page 19
Page 20
Page 21
Bottom right, Rosemari, Joan
Top left, Joan, Florence Morgan
Top right, Joan, Sundiata Acoli, Florence Morgan, Baye Odofo
Joan’s long-time friend, Marilyn Nance, submitted some of her archival materials from when she and Joan were student activists at the Bronx High School of Science
Joan and unknown
Joan and unknown
Page 22 Left, Cleo Silvers, Uncle Lem, Joan
Page 23
Page 26
Page 27
Right, Joan, Cleo
Senegalese Center for Law and Social Justice (CLSJ) immigration attorney and visual artist who supported Mumia, Allison Rosenberg (CLSJ immigration attorney), Esmeralda Simmons (CLSJ executive director), Charlene Samuel (CLSJ ofUice staff), Gwen Riddick (CLSJ deputy director), Oseye Mchawi (CLSJ ofUice manager) Celeste Morris (CLSJ Advocacy Academy director), Joan (CLSJ general counsel) at an annual CLSJ summer outing in a local state park.
Top, Lambda Rising event
Bottom left, Laura Whitehorn, unknown, Joan
Bottom right, Amina Baraka, Mae Jackson, SaUiya Bandele
Top left, Joan (and Malcolm)
Bottom left, Joyce Jones
Top right, DARE position paper/Ulyer
Bottom middle, most people in this image are part of the activist community. They include Pam Africa, Iyaluua Ferguson, Nellie Bailey, Yaa Asantewa, Dequi Kioni-sadiki
Page 30 © Alfred Santana
Inside back
cover Joan and her mother (and Assata)
Additional Contributions
Sa#iya Bandele
Alexa R. Birdsong
Center for Law and Social Justice, Medgar Evers College
Matthew J. Chachere
Alethia Jones
Ana Juarbe
Anne Mitchell
Keith Mitchell
Margaret Ratner
Gwendolyn Riddick
Sandra A. Rivers
Aishah and William Sales
Emily Thomas
Kimberly Tomes
Additional Photo Credit
Jackie Rudin
Special Thanks To
Johanna Fernandez