The MOVE Organization (1972–1985)
Black History Through the Lens of Liberation
Resilience, Environmental Justice, and the Fight Against State Violence
The story of the MOVE Organization is not just a tale of activism—it’s a painful reminder of what happens when systems of power perceive Black liberation as a threat. Between 1972 and 1985, MOVE, a revolutionary Black liberation group based in Philadelphia, fought for environmental justice, animal rights, and Black self-determination. Their activism, however, was met with brutal repression, culminating in the 1985, (Yes you read that correctly NINETEEN EIGHTY-FIVE) bombing of their communal home by city officials (Yes the police and the local government)—an act of state violence that killed 11 people, including five children. This was a military-grade bomb dropped by the Philadelphia Police Department on May 13, 1985
MOVE's legacy speaks to the dangers of living freely in a system that was never meant to support or sustain Black autonomy. But it also speaks to resilience, community, and the ongoing fight for justice.
The Origins of MOVE: A Radical Vision of Freedom
MOVE was founded in 1972 by John Africa (born Vincent Leaphart), who envisioned a world where humanity would reconnect with nature and reject the exploitative systems that harm people, animals, and the environment. With its members taking the surname “Africa” to honor their ancestral roots, MOVE embraced a radical philosophy that blended environmentalism, anti-capitalism, and Pan-African liberation.
Their lifestyle was intentional—they lived communally, grew their own food, and adopted a raw vegan diet. MOVE members protested against factory farming, police brutality, and the destruction of the environment, advocating for a return to natural living. However, their activism often placed them in direct conflict with the city’s political establishment and law enforcement.
Reflection: How can radical lifestyles challenge systems of oppression, and why are they often met with hostility?
Environmental Justice and Self-Sustaining Living
Before mainstream environmentalism gained traction, MOVE was already advocating for sustainable living and environmental justice. They viewed nature as sacred and saw the exploitation of natural resources as linked to the broader exploitation of Black and Indigenous communities.
Their protests against pollution, toxic waste, and harmful agricultural practices highlighted the intersection of racial justice and environmental activism. MOVE understood that environmental degradation disproportionately harms marginalized communities—a truth that remains relevant today.
Actionable Step: Reflect on environmental justice movements today. How can you support efforts to protect both marginalized communities and the environment?
The State’s Response: MOVE and Police Brutality
Philadelphia police saw MOVE as a threat, not only because of their radical ideology but because of their armed self-defense. Similar to the Deacons for Defense and the Black Panther Party, MOVE believed that defending their community required being prepared to confront violence with self-protection.
This belief led to years of tension between MOVE and law enforcement. In 1978, after an armed standoff between MOVE members and the police, one officer was killed (under contested circumstances). Nine MOVE members were convicted of third-degree murder and given lengthy prison sentences—what many view as an excessive punishment tied to systemic bias against Black revolutionary groups.
The MOVE Bombing: May 13, 1985
In one of the most egregious examples of state violence in modern U.S. history, the city of Philadelphia dropped a bomb on MOVE’s communal home in the residential neighborhood of Osage Avenue. The attack killed 11 MOVE members, including children, and destroyed over 60 homes in the neighborhood. Officials made the conscious decision to “let the fire burn,” allowing the flames to spread and cause devastating damage.
The bombing symbolized how far the state would go to silence Black liberation movements. It was an act of war against a Black community, disguised as “law enforcement.” To this day, many Philadelphians—and the nation at large—struggle to reckon with the atrocity.
The Legacy of MOVE: Healing and Resistance
The MOVE bombing left deep scars, but it also strengthened the resolve of many activists who saw the event as a turning point in the fight for Black liberation and environmental justice. Surviving MOVE members and supporters continue to advocate for justice, sharing the stories of those who were lost and fighting for systemic change.
Key Takeaways:
MOVE’s activism intersected with multiple issues—environmentalism, racial justice, and anti-capitalism—demonstrating that liberation work must be multifaceted.
State violence against Black communities is often justified through narratives that frame self-defense as aggression.
Despite the tragedy, MOVE’s legacy of resistance and self-determination continues to inspire movements today.
Actionable Step: Research the ongoing work of MOVE survivors and reflect on how state violence is still used to suppress marginalized communities.
Why MOVE’s Story Matters Now
The story of MOVE is a cautionary tale about the lengths to which the state will go to suppress Black liberation. It reminds us that environmental justice is racial justice and that movements challenging the status quo will often be met with fierce opposition.
But MOVE’s legacy also offers hope. It demonstrates the power of community, resilience, and the importance of carrying forward the stories of those who fought for justice. As we face modern struggles against police violence, environmental destruction, and systemic racism, MOVE’s message remains relevant: We must organize, resist, and protect our communities.
Personal Reflection: The Truth of White Violence and Why You Must Sit With It
The Black Massacres Guide will take you through a century’s worth of white violence inflicted upon Black bodies in this land—violence against people who were simply seeking the betterment of themselves, their communities, and the earth itself. But the overt violence isn’t the only violence of whiteness. I am 45 years old, and I grew up in the South Bronx, Hunts Point to be exact. I witnessed firsthand another form of violence: abandonment. It was at the height of white flight—a deliberate exodus of white people from urban areas, taking resources, wealth, and stability with them, leaving Black and Brown communities in a manufactured collapse.
White Flight and the Burned-Down Bronx
My home was referred to as the “Burned-Down Bronx.” In the 1970s and 80s, white Jewish landlords burned down their own buildings to collect insurance money and fled, abandoning communities that they had exploited for decades. The damage wasn’t just physical—it left psychological and generational scars. During this era, the South Bronx became known as Fort Apache, a term rooted in anti-Blackness and dehumanization, perpetuated by the media and embraced by law enforcement as an excuse to avoid the area entirely. I grew up in a literal war zone. No need to look to Beirut, the Gaza Strip, or Nicaragua. I lived in a 3rd world city right here in the good ole US of A.
During that time, coalitions emerged, fighting against this abandonment and neglect. I remember the Rainbow Coalition on Southern Blvd where my mother would volunteer and protest for fair housing, safer schools, and basic human dignity. She was one of only two white women living off Bryant Avenue at the time—both named Bridget. I remember the poverty. I remember the violence. I remember how addiction gripped people’s lives because when survival is all you have, self-harm can feel like the only relief. I remember how no one came to save us.
And that’s the truth about systemic violence—it isn’t just the fire or the lynching. It’s the silence after the smoke clears. It’s the policies that ensure we stay at the bottom. It’s the removal of resources, the absence of opportunity, and the deliberate denial of life and possibility.
America Is What It Has Always Been
So when we speak of revolution, community, and awareness, understand this:
if you don’t have the history of the people who have carried the brunt of this violence, you don’t have the depth or the range for the conversation.
You don’t need to look to Nazi Germany for examples of genocide, oppression, and hatred. America is and has always been the Nazi. This country is the breeding ground of hate, the love child of France, Britain, and Spain’s colonization dreams realized. What the United States is now is what it has always been.
Sit With That Truth
And white people—you MUST sit with this truth. You must sit with that grief and let it settle into your bones. Stop telling us you’re “learning” and “doing the work” if you’re not doing the healing work. If you’re not taking this on as a sacred duty to do better, to make different choices, and to disrupt cycles of harm. And please, stop telling us you’re moving states or leaving the country as if running away will fix the problem, it’s only another version of white flight and abandonment. There is no place on this planet that is truly safe for Black people because whiteness oppresses the globe. We don’t need you running—we need you standing here, with us, doing the work.
We need you unlearing and undoing the harm caused by your ancestors, the harm perpetuated by those in power today, to build a world where no one needs to seek refuge. That’s the vision of liberation.
Courage Is Doing It Scared Anyway
I want to leave you with something I told my son about courage and bravery when he was scared to go into the dark. He was about 3 or 4 years old and he came into the room and wanted his cup of water. We told him to go get it and he said it’s dark over there. His dad, (my then-husband) asked if he was scared of the dark and he turned and stood with his tiny little shoulders very staunch and stated “I’m not afraid of the dark, I’m afraid of what’s IN the dark.” needless to say we were blown away by this response.
I did not jump up to get the cup, nor did I tell him he was being irrational and to hush and go get it. Instead, I validated his very real and accurate fear and acknowledged that he has the right to feel that way and that yes things can be in the dark so it’s very valid and very scary. I then told Kieran, “ Son, sometimes, you have to do it scared anyway.” That’s it buddy, the answer is that simple. We came up with a mantra to repeat over and over again (that he still uses until this very day and he will be 9 next week) “I am safe, I am brave, I am capable”… THAT is courage, my friends, Doing it scared ANYWAY!
You don’t have to be perfect to be part of this work. You just have to be willing. Willing to sit with discomfort. Willing to hold yourself accountable. Willing to show up, again and again.
Liberation requires us all. And yes, it will be hard. But we’ve been doing the impossible for generations. What’s stopping you?
In solidarity and liberation,
Desireé B. Stephens CPS-P
Educator | Counselor | Community Builder
Founder, Make Shi(f)t Happen