Today we’d like to introduce you to Chas Moore.
Hi Chas, it’s an honor to have you on the platform. Thanks for taking the time to share your story with us – to start maybe you can share some of your backstory with our readers?
I come from a tradition of resistance, of people who refused to accept the conditions they were handed — and I carry that lineage with me in everything I do. My story really begins as a student at The University of Texas at Austin, where I first began organizing around issues of racial justice, police accountability, and the deep, systemic inequities that disproportionately impact Black, brown, and poor communities. What started as campus-based activism evolved into a larger vision of community power, and that’s what led to the founding of the Austin Justice Coalition.
When we started AJC, we weren’t trying to build another nonprofit—we were building a movement space. A place where people could come as they are, tell the truth about their lives, and collectively imagine something better. Over time, our work has grown from protests and policy fights to a more holistic approach to community transformation: we’ve reallocated police budgets, shifted narratives, supported artists and entrepreneurs, created spaces for healing, and connected folks with legal and housing resources—all while staying rooted in the idea that abolition isn’t about the absence of accountability, but the presence of care, safety, and dignity.
Today, I serve as the Organizing Director at AJC, having recently stepped down as Executive Director. That transition wasn’t a step back—it was a step deeper into the work I love most: organizing people, building relationships, creating change that lasts. Titles don’t matter much to me. What matters is that we keep moving toward liberation, even when the road is hard, even when the system fights back. And that’s the story I’m still writing.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The road has never been smooth—because the systems we’re fighting against were never designed to be changed easily. The work of justice, especially when it’s rooted in abolitionist and Black liberation frameworks, is disruptive by nature. You’re going up against deeply entrenched power structures, centuries of racialized trauma, and institutions that were built to protect some while harming others. So no, it hasn’t been easy.
There have been moments of real burnout—spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Times when I questioned if what we were doing was making a difference. Times when I felt isolated, misunderstood, or even vilified by folks who didn’t understand the vision or were too invested in reform to imagine transformation. And of course, doing this work in Texas, a state where conservative backlash is often swift and violent, brings its own unique challenges. We’ve had to fight for legitimacy, for funding, for safety—for the right just to be heard.
But I’ve learned that struggle isn’t a sign of failure—it’s a sign that you’re trying to birth something new in a world that’s committed to the old. I don’t romanticize the hard parts, but I do honor them. They shaped me. They taught me to lean on community, to rest without quitting, and to measure success not by perfection but by persistence. We’ve been pushed, but we’re still here. And that, in itself, is a kind of revolution.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your business?
The Austin Justice Coalition is a Black-led, abolitionist-rooted organization committed to building a world where safety, dignity, and justice are not reserved for the few but guaranteed for the many. We operate at the intersection of policy, culture, and grassroots power—and we don’t believe in piecemeal reform. We exist to challenge the systems that harm our communities while building new ones rooted in care, truth, and liberation.
We’re probably best known for the work we’ve done to radically shift public safety in Austin—from leading the fight against a deeply flawed police union contract to successfully pushing for the reallocation of $150 million from the police department’s budget toward community-based alternatives. But our work doesn’t stop at policy wins. We’re organizers, healers, cultural workers, educators, and visionaries. We host Black Food Week to uplift Black-owned businesses. We create space for youth, artists, and justice-impacted folks to lead. We hold the line and reimagine the world, all at once.
As Organizing Director, my focus is on deepening our community ties and growing the kind of grassroots leadership that makes our wins sustainable. We’re not interested in just being a “watchdog” group—we’re nurturing political education, mutual aid, and solidarity across generations. Two key initiatives I’m especially proud of right now are the Justice Access Support Initiative (JASI) and our partnership with Campaign Zero on the Safe Cities project.
JASI is our answer to a broken legal system. It connects people—often those most at risk of being steamrolled by courts, cops, and criminalization—with justice-oriented attorneys. It’s not charity. It’s survival support. Because we know that legal “justice” in this country is too often about who can afford a good lawyer, not who’s telling the truth.
Safe Cities, on the other hand, is a bold attempt to rethink public safety entirely. In partnership with Campaign Zero, we’re identifying the structural roots of violence and building city-specific roadmaps for holistic safety that center communities—not cops. It’s abolition in practice, not just theory. It’s about asking: what would it look like to be safe without cages, without armed enforcement, without the threat of state violence?
What sets AJC apart is our willingness to be visionary and accountable. We don’t just fight—we build. We don’t just critique—we create. And we do it with love, clarity, and an unshakable belief that our people deserve more. If your readers take one thing away from our work, I hope it’s this: another world isn’t just possible—it’s already being born. We’re just one part of that labor.
Can you talk to us a bit about happiness and what makes you happy?
What makes me happy is seeing people light up when they realize their power—when they understand that change isn’t just something that happens to them, but something they can shape, demand, and create. That moment when a young organizer steps into leadership, or when a community member who felt silenced finds their voice and refuses to back down—that’s joy. That’s purpose. That’s liberation in motion.
I’m also deeply happy when I’m in spaces of Black joy that aren’t transactional or performative—where we can just be. Whether it’s a cookout, a healing circle, a good playlist, or sitting on a porch talking mess and vision with people I love—those moments remind me what we’re fighting for. We deserve lives that aren’t just about survival. We deserve softness, laughter, abundance, rest.
And if you know me, you know I’ve got a deep love for sneakers. There’s something about a fresh pair that feels like armor and art at the same time. It’s style, it’s self-expression, it’s culture. I don’t just wear kicks—I collect stories through them. They remind me of who I am, where I’ve been, and who I do this work for.
Another space that brings me joy is hosting The Traffic Jam on KAZI 88.7 FM four days a week. That show is more than just good music—it’s connection. It’s community radio at its finest. I get to share old-school R&B, hip-hop, trivia, and conversations that matter with people who’ve been riding with us for years. It’s a space where I can unwind, uplift, and stay rooted in the rhythm of the people.
And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that love makes me happy. Deep, soul-anchoring love—the kind that sees you fully and walks beside you anyway. I’ve been blessed with that kind of love, and it’s one of the things that keeps me grounded when the work gets heavy.
Ultimately, I’m happy when I know I’m aligned—when my values, my relationships, my passions, and my platforms are all pointed toward the same thing: freedom. Not just for me, but for all of us. Because joy, to me, isn’t a distraction from the fight. It is the fight.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.austinjustice.org
- Instagram: @igiveyoumoore @austinjusticecoalition
- Twitter: @igveyoumoore @atxjustice
