OPINION | If Seattle Wants to Be Progressive, It Must Learn to Listen to Black Voices

I'm a Black LGBTQ+ community advocate. I am also a Black, gay progressive who believes Seattle needs a progressive mayor. But I believe just as strongly that progressivism that cannot hear Black people, especially when we complicate its preferred narrative, is not liberation. It is another gatekeeping system with better slogans. 

Two recent City Hall controversies have made that contradiction impossible to ignore: the fight over free meals for Seattle Public Schools students and Mayor Katie Wilson's alleged decision to seek the resignation of Police Chief Shon Barnes. The issues are different, and they should not be collapsed into one. But together they reveal a familiar pattern. Black voices are welcomed when they validate the dominant political line. When they question it, they are treated as obstacles, embarrassments, or constituencies to be managed once the decision has been made.

Consider the school-meals debate. Mayor Wilson proposed universal free breakfast and lunch beginning in the 2026–27 school year. Council President Joy Hollingsworth and Councilmember Dionne Foster offered an amendment that would have delayed the universal program for one year and redirected part of the money toward a program that provides food assistance for low-income students on weekends and school breaks. 

Reasonable progressives could disagree with that approach. Universal free meals reduce stigma, eliminate administrative barriers, and recognize food as a basic part of public education. Councilmembers Rob Saka, Alexis Mercedes Rinck, and Eddie Lin voted against the delay, and many parents, educators, and advocates urged the Council to keep universal meals on schedule. That criticism was legitimate. 

What was not legitimate was the ease with which a policy disagreement advanced by two Black women became proof, in some political spaces, that they did not care about hungry children. Hollingsworth and Foster were not arguing against feeding kids; they wanted to create additional funding for the existing program that feeds kids during out-of-school-time.

After the 6–3 vote approved the delay, public pressure produced a better outcome and quickly. About 24 hours later, Councilmember Dan Strauss, along with Hollingsworth and Foster, announced a separate general fund proposal to provide universal free school meals beginning in fall 2026 while preserving the additional out-of-school food support. 

On July 28, the mayor and city councilmembers announced agreement on that combined approach. On Aug. 4, the City Council Finance Committee voted 5–0 to approve the funding. 

We should celebrate leaders who listen and respond. We should also learn from this process: Equity and universality do not have to be enemies.

Then came the departure of Seattle Police Chief Shon Barnes. After the deadly shooting at Bite of Seattle, the public went nearly five hours without a meaningful police update about the threat. The city failed to use its emergency alert system, and Mayor Wilson announced that two people were in custody before retracting that statement. Barnes was out of town at a conference of Black law-enforcement executives. He later faced justified scrutiny over the department's communication and over his travel. 

Accountability is necessary. A Black police chief is not beyond criticism simply because he is Black, and a progressive mayor does not lose the authority to change leadership because the chief has community support. But accountability must be transparent and proportionate. Wilson asked Barnes to resign and said "multiple factors" informed the decision. Barnes became Seattle's fourth police chief to leave in less than three years. 

Before Barnes' departure, the Seattle NAACP, the Urban League of Metropolitan Seattle, and other Black organizations urged the mayor not to make Barnes a scapegoat. They credited him with improving community relationships, reducing gun violence, and strengthening the department. Barnes was Seattle's second Black police chief.

This pattern is not confined to Seattle. In Texas' Democratic U.S. Senate primary, Black voters overwhelmingly supported Rep. Jasmine Crockett, yet concerns from Black voters about the racial and gendered language surrounding "electability" were too often brushed aside; after Crockett lost, she described the eventual outreach for party unity as an afterthought. In Michigan's Senate primary, national money and endorsements flooded the race while candidates made highly visible, last-minute appeals in Detroit churches, seeking support from Black voters who could decide the outcome. Texas and Michigan are different contests, but they raise the same question: Are Black communities being invited to shape the agenda, or mainly being asked to deliver votes after others have decided what and who is viable?

For Black Seattle, process is substance. We know what it means to be consulted after power has already moved. We know what it means to be visible in campaign photographs but inaudible in governing rooms. We know a city can celebrate Black history while displacing Black residents from the Central District, and can speak the language of racial justice while treating Black political judgment as suspect whenever it does not align neatly with the city's dominant progressive institutions. 

"Seattle's own data describe a city where segregation and displacement continue, and where Black residents are only about 7% of the population. Small numbers do not make our voices less important; they make deliberate listening more necessary. Oppression in a liberal city rarely announces itself with an open declaration that Black people do not matter. More often, it appears as whose expertise is presumed, whose anger is called dangerous, whose mistakes become disqualifying, and whose support can be disregarded without political cost. 

I want a progressive mayor because this city needs housing, food security, public safety rooted in dignity, strong labor rights, and care for people pushed to the margins. But no mayor, council faction, or advocacy network should claim the progressive mantle while treating Black Seattle as a supporting character in someone else's politics.

The lesson from these two controversies is not that Hollingsworth, Foster, or Barnes must always be right. The lesson is that Black people must be allowed the full range of political humanity: to lead, to disagree, to make mistakes, to demand evidence, to change course, and to be heard before decisions are final. 

Seattle can feed every child during the school day and support families when school is closed. It can demand accountability from police leadership and still give Black community organizations a meaningful role in decisions that affect trust and public safety. It can elect a progressive mayor and insist that progressive governance include, rather than override, Black political voice. 

If Seattle wants to call itself progressive, listening to Black people cannot be ceremonial. It has to change outcomes.

The South Seattle Emerald is committed to holding space for a variety of viewpoints within our community, with the understanding that differing perspectives do not negate mutual respect amongst community members.

The opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints expressed by the contributors on this website do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints of the Emerald or official policies of the Emerald.

Andrew Ashiofu is a public policy and civic engagement leader with extensive experience advancing health equity, LGBTQ+ equality, and inclusive governance. He serves as Chair of Washington State Stonewall Democrats and has held leadership roles across government and nonprofit organizations focused on public health, civil rights, and community engagement. His work centers on building coalitions, shaping equitable public policy, and expanding civic participation for historically marginalized communities.