Column: When ‘Good Enough’ Isn’t Good Enough: Demanding More for Long Beach’s Black Community

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In Long Beach, the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Parade has become a microcosm of how the Black community is viewed in the city. And what it reflects back — is increasingly difficult to ignore.

For decades, the city has diluted or outright dismissed the needs of its Black residents. Long Beach frequently uses the term “people of color” as a stand-in for Blackness, and MLK Park—the parade’s longtime home—remains neglected, both physically and symbolically.

That neglect is mirrored in the parade itself. What was once a vibrant celebration of Black pride and liberation now feels like a performance stripped of its roots. The event meant to honor a man who sacrificed his life for Black freedom has been sanitized.

Last year’s Grand Marshal lineup was one of the clearest examples. Only one marshal was Black. When questioned, organizers insisted high school champions from Poly and Wilson counted as “Black representation.” But honoring student athletes — regardless of race — is standard practice, not intentional acknowledgment.

A true MLK Grand Marshal should have a measurable history of uplifting Black people.

That’s non-negotiable.

In early November, someone involved in planning this year’s parade reached out after I publicly voiced concern about the city’s continued erasure of Black voices. The conversation felt familiar — vague assurances, polite placation, and the clear sense that decisions had already been made.

Weeks later, I received a private message on November 20 calling for Grand Marshal nominations. After checking with several community members, it became clear only a handful of Black leaders received it. By the end of the submission window, there were just 30 total nominations.That isn’t community engagement. It’s isolation disguised as outreach.

The breaking point came on December 10, when the city released its promotional video for the 2026 MLK celebration. The production quality was high. The messaging was not.

The word “Black” never appeared.Not Black excellence.Not Black history.Not Black pride.Not even Black community.

According to individuals on the planning committee, the script — which speakers were required to follow — came directly from Councilmember Suely Saro’s office. That means the exclusion of Blackness from a Black holiday celebration was not accidental. It was deliberate.

I emailed Councilmember Saro and event organizers with direct, respectful questions:Why was Blackness erased from the messaging?Was that a conscious decision?Will the event reflect this same sanitized tone?Aside from acknowledging receipt, there’s been no response.

Behind the scenes, the pressure was different. Black committee members urged me not to report the story — not because it wasn’t true, but because they feared it would “discourage attendance.” One told me they’d only speak after the parade, which would delay coverage until February — long after it mattered.

Information is meant to empower people, not protect institutions.

When I posted my decision to step back from community specific coverage, I received both support and criticism.

One comment stayed with me. It said my messaging wasn’t the problem — my tone was “problematic.”

So I looked back at last year’s coverage. It was diplomatic. Careful. Gentle.

This year, I dropped the sugar coating — because five years of the same issues deserve frustration.

That frustration, I was told, damaged trust. If that’s true, then maybe that trust I spent five years cultivating was never rooted in truth. Maybe it depended on silence. On proximity to power. Or on the hope I’d amplify certain voices while muting others.

Journalism isn’t about protecting comfort. It’s about clarity.

I’m not stepping away from journalism — it’s who I am. And, despite my initial thoughts, I am also not stepping away from covering the Black community in Long Beach.

Instead, I am moving away from stories, people, and organizations that demand silence — the kind that robs the community of its opportunity to act.

While the city continues to minimize Black voices — and too many Black leaders continue to accept “good enough” — it’s clear that now, more than ever, we must spotlight those committed to uplifting people rather than protecting politics.