Boyz N The Woods: A Camp for Black Men
BY LEROY ADAMS
Boyz N The Woods on their last day at the North Cascades in Seattle.
"Remember When Our Boys Became Men?"
Four years ago, I fell in love with the sitcom Family Reunion. It was about a family struggling to transition from a life in Seattle to Georgia, where the extended family lives. The Mckellans were a family of five. The two boys, Shaka and Mazzi, were the youngest of the three children. Both were incredibly talented and ambitious.
Shaka, the older brother, was your typical teenage Black boy, swaggy without effort. Always had fresh kicks, knew the latest dance moves, wore a big smile and was ambitious when given the chance as he demonstrated in the episode where he starts his own mowing business to make money for a PlayStation 5. And his younger brother by a year, Mazzi, man Mazzi was that lil dude. The lil bro you actually want to bring with you to hang with the girls because he’s cute enough to help you snatch but also too young to have any interest in girls whatsoever.
Isaiah Russell-Bailey plays Shaka McKellans on Netflix’s Family Reunion
Mazzi was an incredible singer, cook, inherited his brother’s taste in fashion and in one of the greatest tv episodes on Black masculinity, shows us he also has the spirit of USC Reggie Bush in him because my guy was a monster on that field. Like his brother, he was also ambitious, joining him as a co-founder in their mowing business.
Cameron J. Wright plays Mazzi in Family Reunion
By all accounts, Shaka and Mazzi were regular kids living in their innocence as long as they could.
In the finale of Season 1 that changes. Well, almost.
Shaka and Mazzi fresh off a mowing job arrive home to find the house locked and their key forgotten. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat at the door waiting for mom or dad to get home from work because dum dum - my younger brother - forgot the key, again. So they’re locked out and naturally they start to search for a way inside.
Not long after, police officer Whittman shows up responding to a call of "suspicious men'' around the house. Officer Whittman arrives, gun in hand directing the “men” to get on the ground. Their parents, played by Tia Mowry and Anthony Alabi, arrive at the scene with their knees to the ground in handcuffs, Mazzi crying his eyes out, and the representation of the system that turns our boys into men radioing it in.
The boys are eventually released and in the next scene you find them both on the living room couch heads bent over trying to process why they were treated this way.
Their grandfather, played by the original Shaft Richard Roundtree, walks in with what? You guessed it. A PS5 baby!
You the real MVP Grandpa Shaft.
When he's asked by his wife, their grandmother, played by the equally iconic and one our favorite movie moms, Loretta Devine, why did he buy it. Grandpa Shaft, with the wisdom of a grandfather, says, "In light of recent events, I think the boys should hold on to their childhood for as long as they can."
Shaka and Mazzi would go on to enjoy their childhoods, but the same can’t be said for the black boys in our country. Did you know one out of every three Black boys born today can expect to be sentenced to prison, compared to 1 out 6 latino boys; one out of 17 white boys?
That’s one out of three Black boys who will likely never discover that they can sing, cook, dress with the best, make people laugh, pull cute girls, dominate sports, start a business with their brother, or play their PS5.
One out of three Black boys will never have a childhood.
Earlier this year, I was invited to attend a retreat at the North Cascades in Seattle organized by a friend and founder of Boyz N The Woods. Riccccky! *Cuba Gooding Jr. voice*. I couldn’t resist. The retreat? I didn’t know what to expect. To be honest, limited bandwidth did not allow me to dive deep into the program literature before the trip. I love Seattle and the opportunity to take a trip with my friends back home away from the grind was a no brainer. Once we arrived, I saw the Black men gathered from every corner of the U.S., du-rags on heads, J’s lightly laced up, smiling and joking, roasting the dorkiest of them, talking about their entrepreneurial ventures or careers, and just chilling. I felt a peace and excitement overcome me and I thought: “Is this what boys' camp was like?”
So, over the next two and a half days, I would imagine what it would be like to give Black men, who were once boys, their youth back to allow for spiritual and mental healing. To give them back what is protected for others, but taken from them. In this article, I'll share my experience from the first Boyz N The Woods retreat and why it’s more than a weekend retreat and the gift we need to give our Black men. The gift they, we, deserve.
Day 1- Marriage Feels Heavy
Stephen Lucke is the founder of Gardopia - a non-profit community garden - based in San Antonio, Texas, a community neighbor, and friend. We had not seen each other in a while - the grind - so the flight to Seattle gave us time to catch up. We immediately fell into conversation discussing the heaviest thing on our hearts and minds at the time: the women in our lives.
Stephen is engaged and preparing to get married next year. At the time, I was dating my girlfriend and giving serious thought to bending the knee. It was apparent we both were working through the emotional weight and mental strain of our decisions. The weight of being responsible, forever more, for these women who had given us their trust and love. We poured out our insecurities, concerns, and excitement on what lay ahead for us, building a sense of trust and strengthening our friendship in a way prevented by the daily grind of our lives.
I flooded him with questions:
Why her? How did you know?
How do you think your life will change?
Are you scared? Blink if you need help.
And like a river no longer blocked by a dam, he let his answers flow freely and honestly. He just knew. He felt it. He wasn’t scared. Nervous, but not scared. I, on the other hand, was both nervous and scared. We laid it all out there catching up through a therapeutic chat with the homie. As the plane took off, the conversation for the time came to a close, and we drifted off to catch some sleep - another necessity prevented by the daily grind. The trip could have ended there, and I would have been lucky enough to catch up with a friend who was also looking to be released and confirm that he was, in fact, okay and would be okay in the next chapter of his life.
We landed in Seattle, and our group eventually met up with the larger group of men where I first saw the sea of Lil Bow Wow du-raqs and Air Jordan ones, retro 4’s and 6’s as far as I could see. Growing up in Miami, our neighborhoods were designated by parks, which essentially equated to territories you could or could not enter. This territorial separation breeds an "Us vs. Them" attitude. As I got older, I became skeptical of newcomers or strangers, even when most of them looked like me. I would come to see other Black boys whom I did not know as an enemy or someone who could cause me harm, much like we viewed the police. I could often feel the same energy directed back at me from the other boys.
Arriving at the camp and meeting the larger group, I did not feel that. We all dove in from Miami to Ohio to Virginia to Seattle, leaving that invisible wall of tension built from the need to defend ourselves at home. There was no danger here. It never was. We dabbed it up, shook hands, and exchanged pleasantries with endless giant-sized trees surrounding us, giving us the fresh pine-scented air of the North Cascades. We received our assigned rooms and took off carrying our backpacks and luggage and reminiscing on the pleasantly beautiful and scenic drive from Seattle to the Cascades. The stop at the Diablo Dam overlooking the turquoise waters of the massive Diablo Lake enveloped by lush green mountains was almost as dope, and fun, as seeing this group of Black men conduct group photo shoots and selfies doing their best to capture the majestic feels of the earth behind them.
Each of us was rooming with someone we did not know, which allowed us to make new friends. My roommate turned out to be this fantastic rock climber from Baltimore with a documentary about his rock-climbing experiences and an organization to connect more kids to the outdoors. Real talk, I knew Black folk were in the outdoors, but I didn't consider us to be rock climbers, like professionals. Bro proved me wrong. Watch his show and you’re like this dude is a real life 5’2” Miles Morales. After we settled into our rooms, we had dinner and then sat by a campfire in the amphitheater starting the weekend with a round of introductions.
As we went around, we were asked to answer one question: "How do you want people to know you show up in the world?”
Boyz N The Woods first cohort gathers on day one for introductions.
The responses varied from, "I want people to know I show up as a father, husband, and provider" to "I want people to know that I’m not ok some days and I need help.” All thirty of us would share, and just like the time when I was in London listening to a friend vent about their increase in their rent, I realized I was not alone. There were 29 other Black men sitting around me experiencing and feeling the same things I was. Again, I wondered, is this what boys camp was like? Campfires where you talk, learn to open up, and share your worries with your friends?
The campfire ended with CJ Goulding, the founder of Boyz N The Woods, sharing how this retreat was years in the making and a culmination of persistence and lobbying to get a group of Black men to the North Cascades. For CJ, this weekend was “a long, overdue opportunity to bring Black men together to build brotherhood, for rest, for mental and spiritual healing, and to just get outside and do something different”. Following CJ, we were greeted by the elder of the group, Grandpa Sha - nah, I’m playing - Mr. Carter McBride. Mr. McBride became the group’s griot, guiding us down the history of Black people’s relationship with the outdoors through a collection of stories. Looking at CJ and the other Black faces around the campfire surrounded by the trees of the Cascades and feeling the land their ancestors were once barred from beneath their feet, he must have been overwhelmed with joy because he was holding back his tears. We were the return on years of advocacy and effort.
Mr. Carter McBride shares the history of Black folk in the outdoors with the group.
The men gather for a mediation and reflection session in the amphitheater
The men enjoy a campfire to close out day one
The campfire extinguished, bringing a close to our first day, settling the jitters and nerves we arrived with, and setting the stage for an exciting day 2.
Day 2 - I Feel Like I'm At Camp
The next morning, we started with a meditation and breathwork session led by the group therapist, Robert (Rob) Bailey. Rob was a peer-certified therapist, and our designated “Let’s unpack that” confidant for the weekend. I was grateful to Rob and CJ for giving us time to sit with Rob and provide a follow-up session after the retreat. Before the pandemic, it was almost unheard of to see Black men going to therapy. And while our generation - millennials - undoubtedly ushered in a mindset shift on the practice, for most of us, the retreat would be our first experience with therapy.
On the morning of day 2, the men prepare for a mediation and breathing session
We entered the dormitory lobby where Rob had his legs crossed and wearing his ghutra - a traditional Saudi headdress. He welcomed us, “Grand rising broth- nah, I’m messing with you, no hotep behavior here.” He welcomed us into the room inviting us to get comfortable, “Sit on the pillows, the couch, the floor, it's your world fellas. Relax.” He began to explain each breathing and meditation exercise we were going to do. I have been practicing meditation for years, even doing a group 10-day silent meditation retreat. Still, nothing has ever felt the way those sessions did.
I was connected to the others in the room. As if we were all, at the same time, releasing, with each breath, the worries and concerns causing us strife. The best was when Rob taught us a breathing exercise to help us connect with our ancestors by focusing on our memories with them. With each breath, we dove deeper into a cherished memory, bringing us face to face with a loved one who had wisdom and guidance to share. Like the campfire sharing, we felt seen and understood by the brothers around us. How often do we forget to breathe and release the responsibilities placed upon our weary shoulders?
Robert Bailey, a certified therapist and counselor, prepares to lead a meditation session
After our morning meditation, we split into two groups - hiking and canoeing. I was a part of the hiking group. North Cascades has over 400 miles of trails to explore. Each has breathtaking scenery and a different experience based on your preference. If you're looking for a peaceful stroll down the river, they have it. Want to get your Christian Cooper on and do some birdwatching? They have the perfect hikes for that. Like most of the men on our trip, if you want to push your limits and climb to the heights to watch the world below, they have the perfect trails that are steep and long.
Picture this: A table of t-shirts laid out end to end varying in colors and sizes, the seller behind the table quickly giving you a rundown of options and prices, while helping you visualize yourself in the shirt "The beige gonna pop on you, bra. I'm telling you the women are gonna turn heads'' or "Nah, Nah, check it grab the Black tee, throw on some gray sweats with ya J's and you good to go.” While “commerce” took place, someone was playing a mix of J-cole, Drake, and Jay-Z in the background loud enough for you to hear, but not loud enough to drown out the “street vendor” across the table. The scene felt familiar. Like D.C. in front of the African American Museum or Brixton in London. All around me I could see elements of our culture traveling with us outdoors, being expressed freely and comfortably.
The water bottles were a work of art! Durable, white all over with “Boyz N The Woods” engraved on the front in metallic silver. The phones came out and you could tell we loved the shirts and bottles because like a group of boys with new toys we were showing them off to each other and taking pictures with them. Sharing pictures with the fam like, "Hey mom, check out my new water bottle!" With our t-shirts on and new water bottles packed, we set off for our hike.
Enjoying a hike through the North Cascades
During the hike, the trees that seemed to touch the sky made us feel small. I believe this helped us open up. It’s something about the overwhelming power of nature that reduces your worries to atoms. Enveloped in green comfort with fresh, pine sol scented air cleaning out our lungs, giving us renewed energy, we got deep in conversation.
The topic: The challenge of recognizing love and care and accepting or embracing it once we have it.
One of the fellas shared that this was a challenge with his ex. She would always compliment or affirm him, and he would assume she wanted or needed something from him. Compliments like, "Babe, you're so handsome." would be met with "Aite, what's up? What do you need?". Because who gives us love freely?
As other men joined in, we discovered a pattern of men who struggled to recognize love without conditions. For us, the love we receive can be measured by what we produce or provide. Love, for Black men, is never given just because. We have to put out to receive. So, when we did find someone who loved us for us, there was growth required to understand what that looked like, and some of us were not there yet or were just learning how to get there.
How do we embrace the genuine love given to us by our loved ones? We discussed this and shared different ways of how we were growing in this area. By the end of the hike, we walked away, again, not feeling alone in what we were feeling. I have often struggled to open myself up to receive the love and care my girlfriend (now fiance) shares. Scarred from a previous relationship, I built an emotional wall that was taking its lovely time to fall and let deep love through. Talking with the other men helped me to understand the wall was created for protection, which was okay. However, I had failed to see that it was no longer needed. The person in my life loved me for me, not for what I could do or provide. I had some internal work to do to meet her where she was. It would be unfair to her and me to not appreciate the self work I had already done to get to where I was. I had examples of men around me who had seen that work through and made it to the other side. I could do it, too.
Later that night, we gathered in the dorm lobbies to play uno, dominoes, and spades. Drained from a day of hiking and canoeing we exhaustedly laughed at some of the moments from the day and reflected on what we learned. I think about some of the Black boys handcuffed before they discover the joys of brotherhood - hiking together, talking over a card game late into the night, or laughing at that one friend who never shuts up, but is funny so we don’t want him to. The boys who are forced into adulthood by a world that never saw them as children. I wish they could have experienced a camp like Boyz N The Wood.
Day 3 - I Feel Lighter
Diablo Lake covers about 1.5 miles, sits at 1 201 feet, and rarely exceeds 50 degrees Fahrenheit. So, think twice if you're considering diving in for a swim, but it’s great for canoeing. The lake is surrounded by rugged mountains, and the historic Diablo Dam. Whoever planned the retreat for the summer knew what they were doing because summer is the best time to be out on the water.
The following day, after a short walk downhill from the lodging area, my group went to the pebbled shore of Diablo Lake for our canoeing trip. One of the focuses of the weekend was building trust with your brothers. What better way to do that than with getting into a boat and paddle out into below-freezing with each other? And so we did, one by one, climbing in the boat, trusting the man next to us to not only watch our backs but also trust us to watch theirs. We each had a paddle in hand, relying on each other to follow instructions and not try to venture off and “do my own thing.” There was no time for egos unless we wanted to flip over into an endless bottom of what would feel like needles pinching our skin. I exaggerate, but all I could see in my head was the pain on Dr. Strange’s face when Ebony Maw is piercing the skin on his face trying to get the Time Stone out of him. Yeeks.
With Bow Wow du-rags on, our J's, a gold chain or two, and Jay-Z playing in the background, we paddled our way around Diablo Lake. The mountains were jaw dropping and the water was hypnotic. Like it actually looked like the drink Hypnotic. You just wanted to stare into that icy blue. After a few hours, we paddled back to shore. No casualties to report. No du-raqs or J’s wet and no chains lost overboard. Successful river trip.
We returned to our rooms to pack our bags as the buses to the airport arrived. I remember walking back to my room feeling light and sad. I would miss the serenity of the Cascades and the new friends I had made. Waiting for me back home was an endless list of to-dos and people to care for. The peace amongst the quiet green giants, fresh air, and icy blue waters was nice. The Leroy who arrived at this place was not the Leroy returning home. I was light, rested, and full of new energy. The weekend was not about learning how to dismiss our responsibilities. It was about learning how to rest, practice mental and spiritual healing, and rely on brotherhood when necessary. It was about taking care of ourselves so that we show up, every day, as the best versions of ourselves or close to it. For our families, communities, but most importantly, the man in the mirror.
Send Him To Camp
A camp for Black men can emerge as our sanctuary for rediscovery, friendship, and rest in a world that feels like it's constantly piling on pressure.
For many of us who were forced into adulthood as a child, never having the chance to explore our curiosities, hike in the woods, canoe with our friends, or stay up all night listening to music and playing games, a camp can feel like reconnecting with a part of ourselves lost through oppression.
Building brotherhood through trust-building activities, fostering emotional resilience through meditation and therapy, and developing leadership skills through mentorship can become the pillars of building strong and capable men in our community. Programs like Boyz n the Wood are not only weekend getaways but the keys to unlocking the joy and camaraderie of the youth we probably never had.
Here's to gifting your brother, father, or a friend a weekend with Boyz N The Woods —because, trust me, he needs it, even if he don't speak on it.
I want people to know that I do my best every day. I show up and try to be the best son, brother, partner, provider, entrepreneur, and friend I can be. That is what I shared at the campfire.
To the outdoors. To brotherhood.
