Insurrection, Liberation, and Joy in Everyday Life

as a dialogue partner at the 2025 Coss Dialogue, it was a profound honor and privilege to engage with Dominic T. Moulden, a true practitioner-philosopher, whose insights on community organizing, liberation, and the often-elusive nature of joy resonated deeply. Our conversation, “Places of Insurrection, Liberation, and Joy in Everyday Life,” transcended mere academic discourse, offering a vital bridge between abstract philosophical concepts and the gritty realities of social justice work. Dominic's reflections provided fertile ground for exploring the further implications of our discussion, particularly regarding the role of consciousness-raising, the ethics of engagement, and the enduring power of community in the face of systemic oppression.Dominic's opening remarks, framed by Lucille Clifton's poignant poem “won't you celebrate with me,” immediately set a tone of resilient joy amidst struggle. His grandfather's “sand dance” and his deliberate silence on the brutalities of white supremacy offered a powerful heuristic: Sometimes, the most profound truths are found not in what is explicitly stated, but in the silences, the hidden pains, and the deliberate cultivation of joy as an act of resistance. This resonates deeply with philosophical traditions that explore the unsaid, the implicit, and the ways lived experience shapes our understanding of reality. For Du Bois, for instance, the “veil” and “double consciousness” speak to the unarticulated burdens and insights of black existence. Dominic's emphasis on listening to “what people are afraid of” and understanding “where the pain was” underscores a critical aspect of engaged philosophy: It must begin with empathetic attunement to the human condition, particularly for those marginalized and oppressed. This isn't just a sociological method; it's a philosophical imperative to understand the contours of unfreedom and the psychological toll it exacts.The question of how to get “scared people to fight for their freedom”1 emerged as a central philosophical challenge. Dominic's answer points to the power of “unveiling” counternarratives and fostering a collective consciousness. His work with ONE DC, where people learn to “use their power” by rebelling against imposed narratives of laziness or inferiority, is a testament to this. This is not merely about providing information; it is about a transformative process of self-discovery and collective empowerment. The idea that “consciousness raising is the end result”2 even in the face of apparent “failure” in achieving immediate liberatory goals is a crucial philosophical insight. It reframes success not solely as the attainment of a specific political outcome, but as the internal transformation of individuals and communities. This aligns with pragmatist notions of experience and growth, where learning from setbacks is integral to ongoing progress. The very act of resisting the narrative that “outsiders tell you both about your place and about who you are in that space”3 becomes an act of philosophical self-definition and collective agency. This is a profound form of liberation, even if the external conditions of oppression persist.Marcus Board, Jr.’s question about the intersection of philosophy and organizing further illuminated this point. Dominic's response “Who has a right to the city?”4 immediately grounds abstract philosophical questions about justice, humanity, and belonging in concrete, lived realities. The “Right to the City Alliance” and ONE DC's work on housing, living wages, and wellness campaigns demonstrate how philosophical principles can animate and guide practical action. The recognition that “even black political leaders in the city don't recognize our humanity”5 highlights the insidious nature of internalized oppression and the need for a radical re-evaluation of who is considered “human” within existing power structures. This echoes Frantz Fanon's explorations of decolonization and the psychological impact of oppression, where the colonized must reclaim their humanity from the dehumanizing gaze of the colonizer.Danielle Lake's inquiry into the role of “place” in Dominic's work brought forth a rich discussion on the meaning-making inherent in physical spaces. Dominic's personal journey from Baltimore to DC, and his efforts to honor and preserve the histories of places like Valley Green and Barry Farms, underscore the idea that places are not merely geographical coordinates but repositories of collective memory, struggle, and aspiration. His observation that capitalists seek to exploit these places precisely because of their inherent value—a value often unrecognized by the very people who inhabit them—is a powerful critique of gentrification as a form of cultural and economic displacement. The philosophical implication here is that the struggle for justice is inherently spatial; it is a fight for the right to define, control, and inhabit one's own environment, imbued with one's own meaning and history. The “politicization of cultural tourism” to ensure that “the people who were born here and raised here . . . tell the story”6 is a vital act of insurrection, self-determination, and a philosophical assertion of Indigenous knowledge and lived experience over external narratives.The discussion on the “unromantic” nature of insurrection, where “there's always a price to be paid,” was a sobering but necessary counterpoint to any idealized notions of revolution. Dominic's anecdotes about the mayor's office retaliating against ONE DC members illustrates the very real risks involved in challenging entrenched power. Yet, his insistence that “we're trying to organize for things not always against something” offers a crucial and much needed philosophical distinction. This is a cornerstone of insurrectionist philosophy, not merely reactive resistance but proactive creation—a building of “healthy communities” where “joy . . . liberation . . . and insurrection”7 can flourish. This positive vision, rooted in the collective, challenges purely negative conceptions of freedom as simply freedom from oppression. Instead, it posits freedom for something: for community, for well-being, for self-determination.The concept of “despair” and its role in the struggle was particularly poignant. Dominic's personal reflections on the loss of his brothers, both of whom lived in pain, brought a raw honesty to the conversation. His insight that “the oppressor wants us in pain” is a chilling reminder of the psychological warfare inherent in systemic oppression. Insurrection, in this context, becomes a “reconciling force that goes together to release the pain.” This is a profoundly therapeutic and philosophical understanding of action, where collective struggle serves not only political ends but also psychological liberation. It is a refusal to succumb to the oppressor's desire for our suffering, a defiant act of self-preservation and collective healing. The emphasis on “reflection on our daily life against self-consciousness”8—the awareness that those perpetrating evil often see themselves as good—is a critical philosophical move, challenging the moral narratives of power and exposing their hypocrisy.The discussion on “mistakes” and “failure” further deepened the philosophical analysis of social movements. Dominic's assertion that “no successful movement has ever won anything without failing”9 is a pragmatist's embrace of iterative learning. The mistakes, particularly those related to charismatic leadership and the lack of self-study within movements, highlight the internal challenges that can hinder progress. To this must be added the observation that the sort of failure that we discussed is not always attributable to mistakes on behalf of people who are doing the work, which underscores the inherent power imbalances. The deck is stacked such that one can do everything right and things still may not go well. This is an acknowledgment of the practical consequences of insurrectionist activity against systemic injustice, where even perfect execution might not guarantee immediate success. Marcus Board, Jr.’s point about “self-righteousness” within movements and the need for “restorative justice” praxis speaks to the ethical dimensions of organizing, emphasizing humility, self-reflection, and a willingness to acknowledge one's own shortcomings.Finally, the conversation on “counter-storytelling” and the “nature of cities” brought the dialogue full circle. Dominic's powerful critique of dominant narratives—from the historical denial of African history to the contemporary manipulation of news—underscores the philosophical battleground of ideas. His call for “each of us to know what your counternarrative is” is an invitation to intellectual and personal liberation that appreciates the nuanced point that, in some spaces, the telling of counternarratives is itself an instrument of furthering kinds of oppression is a crucial caveat, reminding us that not all counternarratives serve liberatory ends. The example of the Society for the Advancement of American Philosophy meeting at Howard University for the first time in fifty-two years powerfully illustrates the historical exclusion embedded in seemingly neutral spaces. The question of how to “make use of certain sites of liberation for particular purposes” when those spaces are not inherently “theirs” becomes a profound ethical and practical challenge. It demands a critical awareness of power dynamics and a commitment to genuine reciprocity, ensuring that engagement does not inadvertently reinforce existing inequalities.Dominic's concluding thoughts on the “dilemma of what it means to belong” and the need to “define what belonging means” for those who have lived in a place the longest, rather than having it imposed by external forces, is a fitting summation. His vision of a city where “there are no locked doors,” where culture, art, and communal life flourish, is a generative philosophical concept of what a truly liberated urban space could be. It is a vision rooted in the lived experience of his mother's childhood, a counternarrative to the gentrified, commodified city. His emphasis on “small is beautiful” and the power of building relationships, even with those who seem ideologically opposed, offers a pragmatic pathway forward.In essence, the 2025 Coss Dialogue, through Dominic Moulden's profound insights and the thoughtful engagement of the dialogue partners, served as a powerful reminder that philosophy is not confined to academic texts but is a living, breathing practice embedded in the struggles for justice, liberation, and joy in everyday life. It underscored the imperative for philosophers to not only analyze the world but to actively participate in its transformation, guided by empathy, critical self-reflection, and an unwavering commitment to the collective flourishing of all. The conversation left us with a renewed sense of purpose, challenging us to integrate our intellectual pursuits with the urgent demands of social change, and to find joy in the continuous, often arduous, process of making a more just world.