217: Health Begins in Community
In this episode of The Health Disparities Podcast, guest host Ber-Henda Williams sits down with Dexter Sullivan—global strategist, community builder, and CEO of the Black Legacy Advancement Coalition. Dexter opens up about his Detroit roots, the generational stories that shaped him, and the urgent work of preserving Black legacy as a pathway to better health and stronger communities.
He reflects on the influence of his grandparents, the educators who nurtured his identity, and the cultural traditions that continue to guide his leadership. Dexter also discusses the emotional realities Black men face, the importance of remembrance in community healing, and how culturally aligned approaches can transform health outcomes.
You’ll hear insights on:
- How legacy preservation strengthens community health
- The role of Detroit’s cultural lineage in shaping identity
- Why policy rollbacks threaten social determinants of health
- Supporting Black men through grief and emotional processing
- Culturally rooted “couture solutions” in health equity work
- The power of gathering, food, and the table as healing spaces
This conversation is a must-listen for anyone working in health equity, community leadership, Black mental health, public health, or culturally responsive care. It’s a grounding, heart-centered reminder that love, memory, and community are essential parts of the health ecosystem.
Dexter Sullivan
Saying their names is essential because it keeps your history alive. I come from storytellers. So Annette Bird is my girl — that’s my grandmother — and when I think about her turning 93 this September, there’s not much of her story that I don’t know. And the reason is, every time we come together, we leave late. If I go to visit, you don’t come for less than an hour — that’s illegal. She’s going to tell those stories. And she’s going to tell me about Ivy Johnson, her father. She’s going to tell me about Grandpa Tom, my great-great-grandfather. She’s going to tell me about Grandma Mary, and the generations that live today through us. And those are the gifts that you can’t number, you can’t count.
Ber-Henda Williams
Well, you’re listening to a very special episode of the Health Disparities Podcast from Movement Is Life, recorded right here in Detroit, Michigan. I am Ber-Henda Williams — media producer, podcast host, womanist cultural strategist — and I am a native to the metro Detroit area. I have been raised by Detroit. I am of Detroit lineage. I am an assembly-line baby and proud of it, and I carry a deep love and responsibility to the city of Detroit and the community and the commitment that shapes it. And I’m so honored to be a guest host here today. We’re opening up a new series called Let’s Talk About Health, because health is not just clinical — it’s ethical.
And I am joined here by Dexter Sullivan, CEO of the Black Legacy Advancement Coalition. Dexter is a global strategist and community builder whose work spans more than 20 years. He has touched all of the continents, countless cities across the USA, and his work specifically focuses on strengthening leadership pipelines, expanding economic opportunity, and building systems that are better suited to support the infrastructure of Black communities. Dexter, welcome.
Dexter Sullivan
My sister, it is a joy to be with you. Thank you for inviting me into this radiant space. It’s a flex to be here, and I’m just glad to be able to talk to you today.
Ber-Henda Williams
We’re going to get into it, Rich. I’m sitting here next to rich uncle energy, and we’re just going to get into all of the things. I think a lot about legacy in general, but if you could name, for you on your journey, what have been some defining moments?
Dexter Sullivan
Oh my goodness. I would say, first of all, being born in Detroit is defining. I think about my grandparents and their migration here in the ’40s. I think about my great-grandfather, who started in farming and agriculture. He bought 100-plus acres in the late ’20s, early ’30s, and raised his family on that land. He sold 10% of it to a white gentleman and opened a restaurant on the land — made his investment back in a year with that move.
So when I think about things that have been defining that I’ve done, I know it’s built on their shoulders. But I think about my rearing through Detroit Public Schools with educators like Ralph Bland, Ray Johnson, Hubert Massey, Spencer Murray, Bessie Burton — and these individuals, when my parents got done at home and dropped me off at school, they ensured that legacy was forming with Black literature, making sure we were engaged with narratives like Phyllis Wheatley and Mary McLeod Bethune and so many shapers of Black culture.
And I thank God that I was infected with that early enough that my entire ethos would be centered around Blackness and its excellence — that we were second to nobody and equal to all. So Detroit is more than a city to me; it’s a foundation for freedom and a platform on which the freedom I get to build is derived from. I think about the words of Thurgood Marshall, who would ask his nephew, “What have you done with your freedom today?” And I think about that often — what am I doing with the Detroit gift of freedom that was given to me?
Ber-Henda Williams
Yeah, Detroit has some waters.
Dexter Sullivan
Oh my God.
Ber-Henda Williams
Cultivation.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
It has a way of shaping. And shout-out to Dr. Spencer Murray.
Dexter Sullivan
My guy, yeah.
Ber-Henda Williams
Legendary educator, convener, healer — noted. So shout-out to Dr. Spencer Murray and his amazing organization.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes, yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
But Detroit is foundation. So let’s get into your lived experience growing up in Detroit and how it shaped your organization — Black Legacy. How did being a student in the school system, as you said, standing on the shoulders of your grandparents and elders, shape you?
Dexter Sullivan
Similar to you, my family was very much involved in the automotive industry. My grandfather — my twin — Roosevelt Bird, raised two daughters, my mom and my aunt. He’s the eldest of 23. My grandmother is the eldest living of 13. So we have a very, very big family. If you know any Johnsons, Lloyds, Cooks — who else — Browns, Smiths… we everywhere.
But I think about their beginnings and how central family was. I can remember as a little kid staying with my grandparents, my grandmother making my granddad’s lunch at three or four in the morning, and him being out the door no later than five. Starting the day early — those were behaviors we began to emulate. It gave us that edge: the early bird gets the worm, and it ain’t never too early to start working.
I think about my dad and his entrepreneurial journey. He was doing energy before that was really popular — as a Black man in the early ’90s, starting our energy company here in Detroit and brokering deals for
natural gas supply for Detroit Public Schools. That exposed me to a level of entrepreneurship I didn’t know was possible.
My mother — we’re talking about health — she was a nurse and still is in healthcare today. She exposed me to the reality of disparity and what it meant. She was the stroke educator for Detroit Medical Center for many years, teaching us about heart health and getting our bodies right.
And being a part of Detroit in the ’90s — I don’t know a better childhood.
Ber-Henda Williams
I don’t either.
Dexter Sullivan
It was dope.
Ber-Henda Williams
What a time to be alive.
Dexter Sullivan
What.
Ber-Henda Williams
Driving up and down Seven Mile Road, wasting your parents’ gas.
Dexter Sullivan
And we stayed at Seven — right between Livernois and Woodward.
Ber-Henda Williams
Stop it. That was the spot. That was the nexus of it all.
Dexter Sullivan
Literally.
Ber-Henda Williams
Right there at Livernois and Woodward — the nexus of it all.
Dexter Sullivan
Or Grand River — one of the two.
Ber-Henda Williams
That’s it.
Dexter Sullivan
I don’t know if we knew what we had. And it’s still good today.
Ber-Henda Williams
Belle Isle on a Friday night in the summer —We were outside.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes, we were so outside. But I don’t want to get myself in trouble, so I digress.
But as you were naming healers in your lineage — we may not look at nurses as healers…
Dexter Sullivan
Oh my gosh. I think about my mom’s stories coming home — things she would tell us from her experiences. She was a trauma nurse, worked on the burn unit, worked on cardio units, led those units. I remember one story of a gentleman who came in unconscious. Once he recovered, he talked about how people mishandled him — but he remembered my mother and the way she cared for him. He was in a coma while she nursed him, but he remembered her voice and met her later in life and said, “I remember you. Thank you for taking care of me.”
Those are the kinds of realities — the men and women of Detroit come from a different cloth. Cut differently. Consummate professionals in so many fields — science, engineering, healthcare, education, the arts. You name it, we’ve been there.
We’re sitting in Black Legacy right now — Sharon Madison, Michael Steinbeck, who I love dearly — what they mean for Detroit and the leadership they bring. Owning a high-rise building in Detroit — that’s major. Detroit has been doing it and putting on for a long time.
I am now in the work of preservation. How do we keep the legacy moving? How do we not lose the narrative?
Ber-Henda Williams
That’s right.
Dexter Sullivan
Growing up in a majority-Black city, it’s easy sometimes to take it for granted. You don’t keep track of what you’ve got…
Ber-Henda Williams
Until you travel someplace else. Until you’re in Metro Airport flying out somewhere.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
And it hits you in a visceral way — when you’re talking to other Black folks or other folks, and the way the city is perceived versus the reality you know.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
Everything you’ve named thus far — when we think about trauma, and you said cardiovascular, dealing with the heart — your work, because of the legacy you come from, feels very heart-shaped. And we want to talk more about the heart-shaped work you do — the labor and preservation of legacy.
Can you name for us how urgent this moment is — to preserve legacy, yes, but also health and well-being? Help us synthesize it.
Dexter Sullivan
It’s incredibly urgent. Two of the conversations I had before coming here today — this morning in Grand Rapids, I was meeting with one of the executive leaders of the largest health network there, Corewell, and we were talking about how to bring some of this work forward in relevant ways.
I think about the urgency of a climate where we’re having rollbacks of systems — rollbacks of policies that have prevented negative fallout, especially as it affects Black and brown individuals. Whether that’s housing, comorbidities — all the social determinants of health are being challenged in significant ways. Some of those things are slated to fall at the most inopportune times.
There are policies that, after midterms, will start to go into effect that will really affect those benefiting from Medicaid, Medicare — systems we never thought we’d be without.
But I think now it’s pushing us into more restorative practice — where we take responsibility for our bodies, for what we’re putting in our mouths. Not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s
what we have to do. Because the medications may not be there. Access to insulin may not be there. What are we doing to self-heal and self-medicate?
There’s a verse in Scripture: Physician, heal thyself.
Ber-Henda Williams
Come on.
Dexter Sullivan
And sometimes we’re so busy taking care of everybody else in the household that we put ourselves on the back burner. It’s proven that medical doctors and nurses are some of the least healthy folks because they have access to plenty — but when those resources are brought down, it causes you to look deeper.
From a granular level, we’re doing that. In our work, we’re actively looking at growing our capacity, and we’re noticing that funders and institutional philanthropy are saying, “Okay, what are some inventive ways?” Because we never followed the textbook when it came to philanthropy.
Ber-Henda Williams
Never follow the textbook. No, no, no. Everything is creative and couture. Let’s talk about couture solutions — because nothing about Black folks is textbook. There’s nothing the academy can find a solution for.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
So tell us — what are some of the couture solutions you’ve found and are using in your work to help advance us, not only as a city but as a people?
Dexter Sullivan
I love that question because it’s layers. Many times we think we have a language problem, or we think people don’t understand — when the systems that surround us daily, especially those that are white-laced, don’t necessarily have the vernacular that translates to the heart.
Black people, by nature, are loving and caring and not linear. We don’t line up in rows to show up and have a good time. We show up to the two-o’clock function at about 3:30 with what we want to bring. A lot of that is cultural. We have a culture of celebration and honor and joy — jubilation. African culture has lived in circles — things in the round.
So I often look at: Are the solutions we bring significant and relevant to the problems we want to solve? And if they’re significant enough, they will overwhelm the challenges.
We lead with love and we end with love. That, to me, is the difference-maker in heart work. Yes, we’re focused on the social determinants of health — housing, education, resources, the practical things — but I want to know how you’re doing before I put you in a program or a slot or number you. I need to know you. How are you?
Because if I can get to know you and your story, I’m going to find a connection point. At the end of the day, we all cousins. We’ve got some things in common. And if we can be clear about that and clear about who we’re serving, one to another, our Creator can get involved in that — and it’s a beautiful experience.
Sometimes we’re mimicking systems that were given to us — systems we didn’t engineer — and they’re not coming from the heart. It’s hard to sustain that. If you superimpose colonialism on culturalism, you’re going to have fractures.
So we’re constantly looking at: What are the natural ways we communicate? What are the iterations of love that show up in 2026? Maybe they have more technology flair — but we birthed technology. We can go back…
Ber-Henda Williams
We can go there.
Dexter Sullivan
We can go back to West Africa, to the Congo right now, and see the first vibranium. We can understand what that is on the continent. So many things we’ve given the world have been hijacked — and the storylines hijacked — so we don’t remember who we are.
So that self-love, as we’re loving others — that self-love to reflect on the true essence we bring the world by way of culture, brilliance, resources — we don’t have limitation. All of the answers are already built in.
Ber-Henda Williams
I want to bring it back. You said several things — I’m over here thinking about ring shouts and hush harbors. But that could be a whole other segment.
Dexter Sullivan
This girl brilliant, okay?
Ber-Henda Williams
My brother is brilliant. But you named something important — remembrance. Unfortunately, because of the age of information and disinformation…
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
And I love what you said about fragmentation. In your legacy work — when we think about all the amazing projects you have going on — how are you weaving that remembrance into your current work? Can you name some projects you have upcoming where remembrance is woven in?
Dexter Sullivan
Oh my goodness.
Saying their names is essential because it keeps your history alive. I come from storytellers. So Annette Bird is my girl — that’s my grandmother — and when I think about her 93 years this September, there’s not much of her story that I don’t know. Every time we come together, we leave late. If I go to visit, you don’t come for less than an hour — that’s illegal. She’s going to tell those stories.
She’s going to tell me about Ivy Johnson, her father. She’s going to tell me about Grandpa Tom, my great-great-grandfather. She’s going to tell me about Grandma Mary, and the generations that live today through us. Those are gifts you can’t number.
In our work now with housing, it was important to me that our spaces were commemorative. Ishmael Ali was my inflection point in 2010. We grew up in Detroit as boys together. My dad was our softball coach. At 21, he was murdered. He was my clarity that service can’t wait — I’ve got to get involved today.
Thousands of young men have been mentored as a result of his life — lived short but impactful. In 2022, when we dedicated that space, I said, “We want to put this in his name so his generations remember — his children, nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters.” When we hosted it, they had no idea his inflection point was that huge. Their reaction… if we didn’t house one person — 13 residents later — I’m convinced it was the right thing to do.
It gives us grounding. Every time we come in that space — I’m going there when I leave here to shoot another interview — every time we do anything there, he’s remembered. We have a beautiful portrait of him in the front room. You don’t go into the space without asking, “Who is that?”
Our women’s home — the Estella Boyd Home for Women. Many people know Mother Boyd’s history. She was the woman who led Marvin Winans to Christ. All the Winans went to their church. Bishop Jesse T. Stacks was the pastor. Mother Boyd was the church mother — prolific impact around the world. She was one of the first women given license to go forth in ministry in Detroit. She discipled women — took them off the streets, into her home, nursed them, cared for them, rehabilitated them. The impact of those women is major — millions reached through their influence.
So we want to speak her name. Darren Darby, an artist friend, and I were on the phone yesterday looking at how we’ll weave a portrait of her together to install in the home for a formal dedication
an artist friend of ours. We were on the phone yesterday looking at how we will be weaving a portrait of her together to install in the home to do a formal dedication later this year. But names are important. History is important, and if you don't tell the stories, how can they know? How can they remember? And so we have institutionalized these individuals and building our own institutions. We can go to museums, we can look at sculptures. What have we remembered? What have we deemed worthy of telling
Ber-Henda Williams
That’s right. And when I hear you say their names again, we’re going back into our roots — our heritage. Before the transatlantic slave trade, when we were on the continent…
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
Ceremonially, we would call forth their names so they would always be remembered. They live in our bodies. Mother Boyd is in our body. Your friend Ishmael — Ashay — lives in the body.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
And you bring me to another point that I don’t think we talk enough about: Black men in grief.
Ber-Henda Williams
So when we talk about mental health — you know, I love that we have folks like you and Jason Wilson doing the work of supporting young men, young Black men, in processing their emotions. But when you think about the legacy work you’re doing with the Black Legacy Advancement Coalition, what are some of the ways you’re helping — and I see it clearly in the dedication to your friend Ishmael — but what are some of the other ways you’re supporting Black men in processing grief?
Dexter Sullivan
This right here — holding space, sharing space, talking with intention. I was in the car the other day — Monday night we do a men’s and women’s Life Talks mentoring session — and one of the young men rode home with me. We were about to get out of the car, and he said, “I just need to talk for a second.” So we sat there and processed.
Earlier that night, a couple of our young men shared their testimonies — their stories of what’s been happening over their time in the program as Ground Up Leadership Fellows — and I was floored to hear, out of their spirit, their own story. Sometimes you can be doing work and you don’t know how it’s taking. It’s almost like a prescription — you take it for a while, then you start to see results. And it’s like, okay, this took. I’m starting to see the remedy doing what it does. When you love right, it’s good. That’s that good old elderberry syrup — you put it in there, it’s gonna do its thing.
Ber-Henda Williams
Dexter, you—
Dexter Sullivan
Yeah. And I’m so proud. I’m so proud of our young men. Almost every greeting — I’ll often have them on speakerphone when I’m doing things, and I very rarely travel alone, so somebody’s in the car — and I remember a couple weeks ago, I got three or four calls from our mentees. Every brother ended the call with, “I love you.” And folks in the car were taken aback — like, “You’ve got grown masculine men out here saying ‘I love you’? How did you normalize that?”
And we never really sat down and said, “Okay, we’re going to say this.” I mean, we say it comfortably, but it’s more the environment that dictates the behavior.
Ber-Henda Williams
You said something really instrumental here — about normalizing, or the lack of normalization, of telling a brother, “I love you,” and there not being guilt or shame around that.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
How do we normalize affection, especially within our community? Because we normalize outbursts of anger.
Dexter Sullivan
Yeah.
Ber-Henda Williams
That’s normal.
Dexter Sullivan
Yeah.
Ber-Henda Williams
Fits of rage — that’s normal. But why can’t we, before you get out of the car or off the phone, say, “I love you,” “I see you,” “If you need me, I’m here”?
Everything you’re naming is life-saving. And they’re not big tasks — they’re not big — but they are life-affirming and life-saving.
Dexter Sullivan
Yes. I don’t think there’s any other way than practice. Some things you can talk about, but until you do them, they don’t begin to cultivate change.
And I’m not talking about the brothers you’d expect — the ones who’ve read the books and done the work to say “I love you” in a healthy way. I’m talking about brothers who might have some bodies to them — they may have done some things they can’t tell us about.
Ber-Henda Williams
They got bones buried somewhere.
Dexter Sullivan
We are setting a tone at a level that everyone is worthy of love. Everyone has capacity — no matter how buried it may be, no matter how hidden the floor of that heart may be. When we find it, it still has a recipe in it. And love is paramount — it can’t be without.
I had a call with one of my best friends last night — we actually grew up with Ishmael together — and he just needed to talk. And I needed to listen. Because I need to know where my brother is and how he’s doing. And yeah, we left the call not fully resolved, but better.
And I think you said it earlier — being seen as men. I think that is the biggest gift we can give one another: I see you. I’m not here to fix you or your situation, but I am here with you through it. And giving that gift of presence — that’s the love.
Ber-Henda Williams
That’s right. That’s the love.
Dexter Sullivan
That’s the love.
Ber-Henda Williams
Can I get a witness? But really — that is so monumental. And it creates such a shift. Dexter, this conversation is healing on multiple levels. It centers us back to traditions and ways we’ve gotten away from — communal, ancestral…
Dexter Sullivan
Yeah.
Ber-Henda Williams
Knowing who your people are.
Dexter Sullivan
Yeah.
Ber-Henda Williams
Checking in on friends, family, and neighbors. Even though we’re in the North, what you’re reminding me of is so much of our Southern identity.
Dexter Sullivan
Oh yes.
Ber-Henda Williams
And how it traverses — even harkening us back to the continent. Even if many of us haven’t gone back home, home still lives and resides within us.
If you could share just one pearl of wisdom or takeaway for our listeners — not only to support the work of the Black Legacy Advancement Coalition — but one word for health. Give us a health note for those who are listening.
Dexter Sullivan
Get to the table.
One of the things we do in almost every setting — if I show up to a meeting and I don’t have something to eat, I’m getting looks like, “Where is the food?” And we try to be intentional. We have great food partners — Metro Food Rescue, Forgotten Harvest, Peter’s Way, healthier options.
And if you’ve been eating fried chicken and chitlins all your life, you may not shift to vegan immediately. Clean eating is a journey. We are very clean eaters — some cleaner than others — but when we’re hosting space, food is a neutralizer. There may be things that are hard to talk about, but around a dinner table, you can say them.
Hosting, preparing a meal together — peeling potatoes, chopping onions, preparing peppers. I’m getting ready for garden season — we’re putting down seeds. And often, if I have to have a hard conversation with a young person, talking at them is never the solution. Sometimes even discourse won’t get it. Let’s get in this dirt together.
There are so many lessons I’ve shared over dirt that I can’t even count. We are dust to dust, ash to ash, dirt to dirt. This is home. So we get in there and talk about the parables of the seeds — what’s going in, and are we cultivating what we need to grow in?
Ber-Henda Williams
I hear you, Octavia. I can hear you coming through — Octavia Butler. Our literary ancestors. Parable of the Sower.
Dexter Sullivan
I’m telling you — it’s all connected. The closer we are to the earth, the more grounded we are, the better we do. And there’s less you need to say. Sometimes we’re trying to answer everything and everybody, when at the end of the day, we just need to settle down.
For me, what I’m witnessing work is healthy environments. Getting that table together. The dining room table, to me, is sacred. Nothing lives in there other than meals and people and laughter. But that table stays set until we’re ready to visit it again.
Nurturing that space for our young people teaches them how to show up and how to be — that you are worthy of fine China with all the goods. And that’s me telling you — I may not use the words — but I’m telling you there’s love for you here at this table.
We’ve got to get back to the table.
Ber-Henda Williams
And on that note — getting back to the table, knowing there has been a place prepared for you — I want to thank you, Dexter, for your leadership…
Dexter Sullivan
Oh my goodness.
Ber-Henda Williams
Your heart, your commitment to building a stronger and more equitable system. Because love is infrastructure.
To all our listeners, you can follow the Black Legacy Advancement Coalition at @BlacLCCoalition and Dexter at @DexterSullivan.
This, good humans, has been the Health Disparities Podcast with Movement Is Life. I have been your host and guide through this auditory journey with my good brother, Dexter Sullivan. I am Ber-Henda Williams. Until next time — be well.