The honorees at the National Civil Rights Museum’s 35th annual Freedom Award ceremony held at the Orpheum Theatre on Thursday, Oct. 1, reflected a changing era of civil rights leadership.

Fred Gray Sr., one of the last surviving legal strategists of the Civil Rights Movement, helped dismantle segregation in America as the lawyer who represented Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks. Gray’s pioneering legacy now rests with the generations he helped empower, including fellow award recipients Rev. Shavon Arline-Bradley, Nneka Ogwumike and Bakari Sellers.

Arline-Bradley, an ordained minister, public health advocate, and president and CEO of the National Council of Negro Women since 2023, credits the women and civil rights legends who preceded her and built the organizations she now leads with making her work possible.

Nneka Ogwumike, WNBA champion and four-term president of the league’s players association, and Bakari Sellers, a lawyer, author, CNN political correspondent and former South Carolina legislator, represent a younger generation of human and civil rights activists. They are taking the fight into new arenas, from women’s sports and economic opportunity to voting rights, education and social justice.

Together, their stories shaped the event’s overall theme and mood, which celebrated the courage of freedom fighters of the past while embracing what civil rights leadership looks like now — and what it may become.

Before the ceremony, hundreds of guests gathered for photographs and interviews on the red carpet and hors d’oeuvres at the Halloran Centre for Performing Arts & Education next door to the Orpheum. Actor Larenz Tate hosted the event for the second consecutive year. Grammy Award-winning gospel artist Tamela Mann brought the audience to its feet with her performance of the hit song “Take Me to the King.” And local artist Garry Goin and the Freedom Award House Band performed a mix of R&B and liberation songs.

Taking the stage to accept the first award was Arline-Bradley, who reflected on the legacy that shaped her path to leadership.

“This honor means more to me than you can ever imagine,” Arline-Bradley said, describing the moment as the culmination of what she believes God had in store for her.

She paid tribute to Dorothy Height, whose leadership helped secure the headquarters for the women’s advocacy nonprofit on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. Arline-Bradley described the building, located on the same street as the White House, as a representation of Black women’s history, power and resilience.

“NCNW stands as the only Black and women-owned building on Pennsylvania Ave,” she continued.

During her speech, Arline-Bradley outlined what she believes it will take to achieve freedom and equality today.

“If America wants to get her healing, we’ve got to climb to the rooftop of justice,” she said.

And justice includes using Black economic power to support companies with compatible values, she continued.

Fred Gray Jr. accepted the award on behalf of his father, who was unable to attend the ceremony. Gray, who practices law alongside his father and brother, recalled his father’s decision to become a lawyer and return to Montgomery, Alabama, determined to challenge segregation.

Gray connected his father’s legal work to Memphis’ sanitation workers, whose 1968 strike became a defining moment in the city’s civil rights history. “At 95, if he was here, he would say to you, ‘I have done what I can do. The rest is up to you,’” Gray Jr. said.

Ogwumike used her acceptance speech to connect the growing visibility of women’s sports to a broader conversation about opportunity and equality.

“In this moment, there are greater and more opportunities for girls and women in sports,” Ogwumike said, pointing to the example provided by the WNBA’s professional athletes who serve as role models for young girls.

She also addressed what she described as threats to women’s rights and access, including debates surrounding Title IX, voting rights, reproductive healthcare and gender violence. “We refuse to be bullied and we refuse to be silenced and made to disappear,” Ogwumike said.

Her remarks were followed by a surprise video message from former Vice President Kamala Harris, who thanked Ogwumike for “being a fighter for the people” and congratulated the evening’s other honorees.

The final honoree, Bakari Sellers, has family ties to Memphis. His mother grew up in the city. His grandfather, the Rev. E.W. Williamson, once served as pastor of Middle Baptist Church and Olivet Baptist Church.

Sellers wrapped his remarks in light humor as he reflected on his conversations with other advocates and his own social justice journey. At one point, he paused, overcome with emotion, as he recalled visiting the National Civil Rights Museum earlier in the day and standing on the balcony where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968.

“The victories they won are being torn down all around us,” Sellers said.

To illustrate the cost and cruelty of social injustice, he asked the audience to imagine a 10-year-old student who might one day cure cancer but is struggling in school because of hunger.

“Somewhere we have forgotten that we come from a people of dreamers,” Sellers said. “We have forgotten the price that was paid.

“I am only 42 years old. I don’t really deserve this thing,” Sellers said. “But I will promise you this: Tomorrow I will work harder than I did yesterday.”

A video montage at the black-tie ceremony paid tribute to influential figures who died this year, including civil rights organizer Bernard Lafayette, a leader in the Nashville Movement, Freedom Rides and the Selma voting rights campaign; Rev. Jesse Jackson, the civil rights icon, minister and founder of Operation PUS;, Memphis civil rights activist Clara Ester; feminist leader and journalist Gloria Steinem; and country music legend and philanthropist Dolly Parton.

Museum President Russ Wigginton commented ahead of the program on the generational evolution of Freedom Award honorees. He noted that earlier generations of civil rights leaders often could measure progress through changes in laws, court decisions and government policy. Marches, sit-ins and other forms of direct action helped produce the landmark legal changes achieved during the Civil Rights era of the 1950s and 1960s.

But today, he said, the work can be more difficult to measure because much of it involves changing hearts and minds, increasing empathy and encouraging people to understand cultural differences.

“It is a delicate balancing act that requires patience and commitment,” Wigginton said.

He added, however, the fundamental goal remains unchanged: equal rights for everyone.

Based on reporting by Tri-State Defender.

By California Black Media Staff

Gov. Gavin Newsom signed legislation on Sept. 27 authored by Assemblymember Isaac Bryan (D-Ladera Heights) that strengthens consumer protections for Californians purchasing tickets to concerts, sporting events and other live entertainment.

Assembly Bill 1349 expands state regulation of original ticket sellers, resellers and online resale marketplaces. The law targets deceptive sales practices, ticket-buying software and speculative listings — tickets advertised for sale by sellers who do not possess them or have authorization to sell them.

“Buying a ticket shouldn’t come with hidden risks or unfair practices,” Newsom wrote on social media after signing the measure.

Under AB 1349, ticket sellers are prohibited from listing tickets before they have been officially released unless they have authorization or a legally enforceable right to receive them. Online marketplaces must also take reasonable steps to prevent speculative ticket sales on their platforms.

The law prohibits sellers from using bots, multiple accounts, email addresses or internet protocol addresses to circumvent ticket limits, presale restrictions, electronic queues and other controls. It also bans websites and advertisements designed to mislead buyers into believing they are purchasing tickets from an authorized seller, venue or event organizer.

Sellers who violate certain provisions and fail to provide a promised ticket may be held liable for twice the ticket’s contracted price. Buyers may also recover nonrefundable expenses incurred while attempting to attend an event, along with reasonable attorney’s fees and court costs.

Pastor Tecoy Porter Sr., president of the National Action Network’s Sacramento chapter, said the law establishes needed accountability.

“Buying a ticket to a concert or show shouldn’t mean entering a marketplace where the rules are stacked against you. This year, we worked with a coalition of consumers, civil rights advocates, community groups, and businesses to make AB 1349 stronger. Consumers deserve enforceable rules that protect them. We thank Assemblymember Bryan for his leadership, and we will keep working to make ticketing fair for every Californian.”

Jose L. Barrera, national vice president for the Far West Region of the League of United Latin American Citizens, also praised the measure.

“Californian families deserve certain protections when they buy tickets. Assemblymember Bryan listened to communities across California and delivered a bill that puts fans first. We thank him and Governor Newsom for making it law.”

The internet chatter about Black artists struggling to sell concert tickets points to a much larger crisis reshaping the touring business, according to recent industry reporting and artists’ own comments.

Since spring 2026, a wave of major touring acts across genres have canceled or postponed shows due to sluggish ticket sales, a trend some in the industry have dubbed “blue dot fever,” a reference to the blue markers that indicate empty seats on Ticketmaster’s venue maps.

The phenomenon is not limited to Black performers, but several recent examples involving Black artists have fueled online conversation about whether Black touring acts face extra hurdles. For a market like Houston, home to a large hip-hop and R&B fan base and a steady stream of major tour stops, the debate carries added weight.

Here are five reasons the touring business has gotten tougher for artists trying to fill seats.

Blue dot fever is spreading industrywide

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by CBS Mornings (@cbsmornings)

Black hip-hop megastars like Ludacris, T.I., Rick Ross, and BigXThaPlug felt the impact of Blue Dot Fever after struggling to sell tickets. Industry watchers say many artists are being booked into venues too large for their current draw, leaving sections visibly empty, discouraging last-minute buyers. The trend cuts across genres, but it has compounded challenges already facing some Black touring artists this year.

Fans keep comparing every artist to music’s biggest superstars

Grammy-winning singer Melanie Fiona recently weighed in on the online conversation about canceled shows and slow sales, explaining that most artists do not have the resources or reach of music’s top-tier headliners. The trade outlet Ticket News has made a similar point, noting that few artists can match the pricing structure or demand generated by superstar-level tours. When any artist falls short of that bar, fans and social media users are quick to call it a flop, even when the artist is still performing at a healthy level for their career stage.

Stadium bookings are outpacing actual demand

A hip-hop stadium concert set to take place in Louisville in October 2026, featuring Ludacris, T.I., Rick Ross, and BigXThaPlug, reportedly had nearly 47,000 seats still available as showtime approached. The example illustrates a broader booking problem. Venues sized for arena or stadium crowds do not always match the number of fans willing or able to buy tickets, regardless of an artist’s streaming numbers or name recognition. Some promoters are now facing pressure to book smaller, more intimate venues that better match an act’s current draw.

Rising costs are squeezing fans’ entertainment budgets

Housing, groceries, and everyday expenses have climbed for many households, and live music is often one of the first expenses fans cut. Older or legacy acts leaning on nostalgia appear to be hit hardest, since higher ticket and fee prices make attending a bigger financial decision than it once was. Newer or lower-profile Black artists competing for the same limited entertainment dollars face an uphill climb, especially when fans have to choose between one or two shows a year instead of several.

Social media shape who gets mainstream exposure

@dustintheindustryplant

Does TikTok Dominate the music industry.

♬ original sound – Dustin The Industry Plant

Black artists in hip-hop and R&B often compete for airplay and playlist placement within genre-specific categories rather than mainstream ones, which can limit the crossover exposure that turns streaming success into ticket sales. Artists working outside those two genres, including gospel, jazz, and Afrobeats-influenced acts, face a similar challenge in reaching audiences beyond their dedicated fan bases. Whether that structural gap is driving today’s sales slump remains an open question that industry analysts and artists are actively debating.

Based on reporting by Houston Defender.

In August Wilson’s “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” Ma Rainey fights to control what happens to her music once she enters the recording studio. Today, musicians are confronting a new question: What happens when artificial intelligence can profit from the identity attached to their music?

Round House Theatre’s production of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” which runs through Oct. 18 in Bethesda, Maryland, brings an older struggle over artistic control to the stage. Set during a recording session in 1920s Chicago, Wilson’s play follows Ma and her band as conflicts over art, money and control expose the imbalance between the musicians creating the work and the people conducting the business around it. That same question of who can profit from an artist’s value is now being tested in a very different setting nearly a century later.

Musicians Jason Isbell, David Lowery, Guy Forsyth and Eduardo Calle filed a class-action lawsuit on Aug. 31 against AI music company Suno. They allege that the company commercially exploits artists through an AI system capable of generating music imitating artists’ identities and styles without permission. Suno disputes the allegations.

The U.S. Copyright Office has also studied AI-generated digital replicas and recommended federal legislation to address gaps in protections against unauthorized replicas of a person’s voice or appearance. Its broader AI inquiry received more than 10,000 public comments.

For Nicole Michelle Haskins, who portrays Ma Rainey in the Round House production, the struggle over power begins with understanding Ma as more than a demanding recording star.

“She is the only advocate she has,” Haskins said. “The choices presented to her are to surrender or fight. Ma chooses to fight.”

Haskins said Ma enters the recording studio knowing the value that she brings, even as the people around her repeatedly challenge her decisions. She exercises her leverage and pushes back when others attempt to dictate how the session will proceed.

The real Gertrude “Ma” Rainey was one of the earliest Black women to record blues commercially. Between 1923 and 1928, she made more than 100 recordings for Paramount Records, according to the Smithsonian.

One surviving agreement shows how at least part of that business worked. A Dec. 12, 1923, royalty agreement for “Walking Blues,” signed by Rainey and composer Lovie Austin, provided them two cents for each printed piano copy sold in the United States and Canada. They were also entitled to one-fourth of the royalties the publisher received from mechanical reproductions, minus a 10% collection cost.

For Haskins, portraying a character negotiating those relationships does not feel entirely removed from being an artist today.

“The life that I live as an artist is not that dissimilar from the world that August Wilson has written,” Haskins said.

The technology surrounding artists, however, has changed dramatically.

The scale of AI-generated music has grown quickly. In July, streaming service Deezer said it was receiving about 90,000 fully AI-generated tracks a day, more than half of its daily uploads. Those tracks accounted for less than 3% of all streams.

The lawsuit against Suno is not primarily a traditional copyright case about whether an AI-generated song copied a particular recording. Instead, the musicians rely largely on state right-of-publicity laws, which concern the commercial use of a person’s identity.

According to the complaint, users can enter musicians’ names and use them as a retrieval key for AI-generated music drawing on characteristics associated with those artists. The plaintiffs argue that an output does not have to copy a specific song or perfectly reproduce an artist’s voice for the artist’s commercial identity to be exploited.

Suno disputes that characterization of its technology. The company has said it does not use artists’ names as training metadata and does not permit users to prompt its system for specific artists. Suno says references to artists are filtered and redirected toward descriptions of musical characteristics. Its own prompting guide, for example, encourages users to describe features such as tempo, vocals and instrumentation, using phrases like “bright pop track,” “110 BPM,” “female vocals” and a “big synth hook.”

The Suno dispute centers on more than ownership of a particular song or recording. It raises the question of whether an artist’s name, likeness and other identifying characteristics can be used commercially to generate new music without permission.

Haskins resists describing that underlying conflict as merely contemporary.

“I don’t think they feel contemporary,” Haskins said of Ma’s concerns. “I think they feel worldly.”

For Haskins, AI is one setting for a larger struggle over who has power over creative work. She said the problem of Black people being separated from control of things they created has existed far longer than the technology now raising those questions. The Library of Congress notes that early record companies sometimes used white performers to record music associated with Black artists rather than hire the Black performers themselves, while Black musicians remained rare on early commercial recordings.

“It just hasn’t stopped happening,” she said.

That interpretation shapes the way Haskins portrays Ma’s fight for control. She pointed to a brief moment in the second act when Ma’s manager attempts to steer her toward a different song. Ma refuses and proceeds with the recording she intends to make.

Haskins said the moment stands out precisely because Ma does not need a dramatic confrontation to establish who has the final say.

“She’s not demanding control. She’s not asserting control,” Haskins said. “She is simply positioning herself in correct order.”

La Tetra Metts-Owens is a reporter forHUNewsService.com. She covers Prince George’s County and theater.

Based on reporting by Howard University News Service.

Who decides what the future looks like? For generations, science fiction and pop culture have handed us the answer. Artist Fabian Williams opened Mothership Sirius B, a three-story immersive art installation, to offer a different one.

Atlanta Students Help Shape the Exhibit

Inside the art installation at 12 Jackson St in Atlanta, the project’s community roots are what set it apart. Students from Morgan Oliver School, Maynard Jackson High School, and Georgia Tech created original artwork that runs through the whole show. It all leads to the Future Lab, a room built for conversation, creativity, and imagining what comes next together.

Williams also sat down with many of the students to ask what kind of future they want to build. Their answers give a real look at how Atlanta’s next generation pictures its city. The Mayor’s Office of Cultural Affairs, led by Adriane Jefferson, is a confirmed institutional partner.

What “Sirius B” Means

The exhibit covers six decades across its three floors, and the name carries the idea behind it. Sirius A and B form a double star system that can’t be seen with the naked eye. According to a story Afrofuturist thinkers often cite, the Dogon people of Mali knew of it centuries before Western astronomers confirmed it. For those thinkers, it shows that Black communities have always held knowledge about the future that mainstream culture was too narrow to notice. Williams puts it this way: the vessel “was always there.”

Pop Culture, Black Empowerment, and Political Commentary

The work plays pop culture against themes of Black empowerment, and it doesn’t hide its disdain for President Donald J. Trump. Many pieces use lenticular printing, so the image changes as you move. A familiar original shifts into Williams’ own take.

Inside the Exhibit, Floor by Floor

First floor: America in the 1950s. Mint green walls and checkerboard linoleum set the scene. The art draws on posters for “The Twilight Zone,” “Planet of the Apes,” and “Soylent Green,” which expose the fears and false assumptions white Americans held about Black Americans.

Second floor: the 1980s and 1990s. This level looks at the privatization of public life. The centerpiece of the 1990s section is “Malcolm Morpheus: Matrix Version v.68,” a lenticular print that flips between Morpheus from “The Matrix,” palms open with a red pill and a blue pill, and Malcolm X in the same pose. The wall text says Malcolm X “offered society the red pill of hard truths.”

Third floor: Black Jesus and the Future Lab. A huge painting of Black Jesus greets you on arrival. The first room off the hallway, the Garden of Jza, breaks from Williams’ usual style. Its collages show civil rights figures, including Jimmy Carter, Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcolm X, alongside their spouses, drifting through peaceful landscapes in vintage cars.

The Future Lab is a lounge-style think tank with bean bag seating, curated music, and a black-lit “aether room.” Visitors are invited to write their hopes and prayers for the future on sticky notes and leave them behind.

Tickets and Admission

• General admission: $20 per person, includes one drink ticket
• RSVP without a drink: $15
• Children ages 5 to 16: $10
• Children under 5: $5

Buy tickets through Eventbrite at isawmothership.com. To support the exhibition, you can donate through Satellite Collective at secure.givelively.org/donate/satellite-collective-inc/mothership-atl.

NEW YORK — For anyone raised in the Caribbean, or in a Brooklyn, Bronx, or Queens household where the radio stayed tuned to home, there was never a time without the Mighty Sparrow. His voice was simply part of the furniture of our lives: at Carnival, at weddings, at Sunday lunch, in the car on the way to JFK. On Sunday, that voice went quiet.

Slinger Francisco, known to the world as the Mighty Sparrow, died Sunday, September 27, in New York. He was 91. His family said he passed peacefully after a brief illness, with loved ones at his bedside.

He was born in Grand Roy, Grenada, in 1935, and was still a small child when his family moved to Trinidad. Port of Spain made him. Its yards, its rum shops and its calypso tents gave him his rhythm and his sharp tongue. He sang in a church choir as a boy, but the city had a louder music, and by his late teens he was performing under the name that would become a title.

The breakthrough came in 1956 with “Jean and Dinah,” his mischievous farewell to the American servicemen leaving Trinidad after the war years. The song swept Carnival, winning him both the Road March and the Calypso King crown. It introduced a young performer who could be funny and fearless at once, who could make an entire nation laugh at itself and then think hard about what it had just laughed at.

He was fearless offstage too. A year after that first crown, he refused to compete over the paltry prize money offered to calypsonians, a stand that helped push the art form toward the respect and the pay its practitioners deserved.

Over six decades, he recorded hundreds of songs. He could turn a love story, a boast or a bit of bedroom comedy into a hit, but he was just as formidable when the subject was power. “Dan Is the Man in the Van” took apart a colonial schooling that taught Caribbean children nonsense about themselves. “Congo Man,” “Mr. Walker,” “The Lizard” and “Both of Them” became standards sung by people who had never set foot in a calypso tent. Long before anyone printed it on a poster, audiences had already crowned him the Calypso King of the World.

For New York’s Caribbean community, Sparrow was never just a visiting star. He made this city his home for many years and played its biggest rooms, including Madison Square Garden, before crowds of immigrants who heard in his voice the islands they had left behind. A Sparrow show here was less a concert than a homecoming.

Trinidad and Tobago honored him with the Trinity Cross, then its highest national award, and generations of calypsonians and soca artists have named him as the standard they measured themselves against. Fans called him “Birdie,” and the affection in that nickname said everything.

Tributes are already pouring in from across the region and the diaspora, and they will keep coming for weeks. But perhaps the truest tribute is the simplest one: somewhere tonight, in Port of Spain, St. George’s, Flatbush and beyond, someone is putting on a Sparrow record, turning it up, and singing along.

Based on reporting by New York Carib News.