My Black Church Now Owns a Racist Logo

In December 2020, white supremacists marched through Washington, D.C., defacing our church’s Black Lives Matter sign. This wasn’t just vandalism; it was an act of terror, a deliberate attempt to silence a Black church — Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church — that has long stood for justice. But fear has never had the final word in our tradition.

I won’t lie though; we were unsettled. I will never forget when my pastor, Rev. William H. Lamar IV, shared the news with our waiting congregation. We were at the height of the pandemic, before vaccines, navigating an online worship reality with no clear end in sight. My mind flashed to cross burnings in the rural South. I wasn’t surprised, but I was angry — and tired.

My pastor stood firm, reminding us that God is still with us. He didn’t flinch when he said, “We will not be silenced.” And we weren’t. We did not cower. We did not retreat. Instead, we kept doing what we have always done: worshiping, liberating, and serving — trusting in a God who bends the arc of the universe toward justice. We remained steadfast in our calling as the Cathedral of African Methodism, refusing to lose heart in the face of white supremacy.

In June 2023, Metropolitan AME successfully sued the Proud Boys, winning a $2.8 million judgment through default judgement for trespassing and vandalizing our property. But because they have yet to pay, our church creatively sought to ensure payment by stripping the hate group of its trademark, meaning they can no longer sell merchandise to fund their hate — unless our church allows it. Any profits the Proud Boys earn from using the trademark must be paid to Metropolitan to help fulfill the multi-million-dollar default judgment.

A Black church now holds the legal rights to the identity of those who sought to intimidate it. This is more than a court decision; it is a reversal of power in the tradition of Jesus.

Rejecting fear as a weapon

Fear has always been a tool of oppression: from the KKK’s reign of terror during Reconstruction to today’s threats of mass deportation. As Howard Thurman reminds us in Jesus and the Disinherited, fear convinces people to surrender their own freedom. Fear was used to build this country on stolen labor, and it still drives people to trade their rights for proximity to whiteness. White supremacy thrives on division, turning race and class into a caste system designed to keep some at the bottom.

The Black Church was born in the face of fear. From hush harbors where captured Africans reclaimed their faith to the churches that fueled the Civil Rights Movement, it has often been a sanctuary of resistance. Early Black Christians took the “Talking Book” meant to enslave them and turned it into a gospel of liberation. The church became the heart of Black life, meeting both physical and spiritual needs, organizing, and speaking truth to power.

That prophetic tradition is vital today. White Christian nationalism has distorted the gospel, promoting policies and rhetoric designed to oppress. However, the Jesus they claim to follow is not the Jesus we know. As Howard Thurman described, the real Jesus was a poor, marginalized Jew under Roman rule. He recognized how empires use fear to control the oppressed. The Pax Romana wasn’t peace: it was enforced submission, maintained by the brutal spectacle of crucifixion.

What happened in December 2020 was an attempt to use fear to silence a church that has stood for 186 years. Our sanctuary has held the voices of Frederick Douglass, Ida B. Wells, and Mary McLeod Bethune. It welcomes all who seek freedom. And because of that, white supremacy has repeatedly showed up on our doorstep.

But the theology that has sustained Black people is one of liberation — one that gives life and joy, even in the face of fear. It has carried us this far. It will carry us forward.

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A theology that acts

The reversal of power that recently granted my church the rights to the Proud Boys logo echoes a biblical tradition of reclaiming what was meant for harm and using it for good. Genesis 50:20 tells of Joseph, sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, later using his position to save them from famine. Today, I see a parallel in the wealth of a hate group now being used by a church committed to the thriving and liberation of all people, especially those with their backs against the wall. This decision also hits them where it hurts most — their pockets— and limits their ability to fund and spread hate.

Metropolitan has long been on the frontlines of justice: fighting food insecurity through its food bank, advocating for affordable housing in D.C., addressing climate change in Black neighborhoods, and teaching and preaching a liberating theology that speaks truth to power. As Pastor Lamar often says, Metropolitan is “deeply spiritual and deeply engaged with the world.”

At Metropolitan, we believe faith demands action. We stand proudly in our African religious heritage, knowing who we are and whose we are. Ours is a communal faith, shaped by African sensibilities and rooted in the liberating gospel of Jesus.

As Ella Baker said, “We who believe in freedom cannot rest.” This is not meant to be taken literally. We must practice self-care. However, as a collective, we must remain vigilant. History has shown us that every step forward for marginalized people is met with backlash. Frederick Douglass reminds us that “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.” Victory is never the end of the fight; oppressive forces always wait for a more opportune time.

This is why we must remember the cloud of witnesses who came before us — those who did the work with joy in their periphery, just as Jesus did when he was lynched on the cross. Jesus, in his ministry, death, and resurrection, refused to be held captive by fear. Instead, he looked toward the future, enduring what others would not so that generations to come could run their race. Our work is ongoing until God’s promises are fulfilled.

Not everyone is called to take down hate groups in court, but everyone is called to resist injustice and hate. The church today has many ways to take a stand. It can be as simple as speaking up when someone’s needs are being threatened, teaching sound theology in the face of white Christian nationalism, or calling lawmakers to remind them that people’s needs are holy.

What happened last week was not just a victory for Metropolitan AME or even the Black Church. This was a victory for all who love God and love their neighbor. This flipping and reversing of power gives us hope: hope that what we see now will not always be if we do our part in pushing back the chaos of empire.

Beloved, fear did not win in 2020. Fear stepped onto hallowed ground, trying to silence the voice of liberation, but oppression never has the final say. And fear won’t win today.

In his wisdom, Thurman says we must recognize fear for what it is so we can destroy it –knowing that God’s Spirit lives within us. The Spirit will help us to do the work ahead to preserve humanity and creation.

The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice. I ask you: How will you help bend it?

Because in the end, a theology that stands against fear is a theology that refuses to lose.