Vehicle City Voices: Black Women of Flint — Billie Dantzler

FLINT, Michigan — It’s the last spring break of my undergraduate career—a time many people encouraged me to fill with memorable, once-in-a-lifetime experiences. While some of my peers chose cruises, international travel, or even jumping out of planes without proper health insurance, I found myself drawn to something different.

As I began this journey on the first day of spring break, I couldn’t imagine a more meaningful way to spend my time than an early afternoon phone call with Billie Dantzler—someone I’ve come to deeply admire and respect.

Over time, I’ve often turned to her for insight and reflection. As I like to say, she may not always tell you what you want to hear, but she will always tell you what you need to hear. Even when her delivery comes with a layer of tough love, I’ve learned how essential it is to have people like that—not just in the broader community, but within the personal circles we build for ourselves.

A Flint native and current resident, Dantzler is a graduate of Flint Southwestern (go Knights!) and Mott Community College. As an educator, she carries a passion and determination for her community that feels unmatched.

That passion began early. She fondly recalls her childhood on Flint’s north side, especially the time spent at her grandmother’s home. Though the house no longer stands and her grandmother passed in 2017, those memories remain foundational—shaping both her deep love for Flint and the high expectations she holds for its people.

As our conversation turned to International Women’s Month in March and International Black Women’s History Month in April, we discussed how the experiences of African American women often differ from those of their counterparts.

Dantzler quickly reframed the conversation, noting that these differences aren’t limited to celebratory moments—they persist even in spaces meant for recognition.

She pointed to a local example: two prominent libraries in Flint. The Frances Willson Thompson Library at the University of Michigan–Flint honors a trailblazer in dialogue-centered education.

The Gloria P. Coles Flint Public Library, located in the Flint Cultural Center, is named after a transformative director who led the institution into a new era.

Two libraries. Two legacies. Two remarkable women—one white, one Black.

Yet, as Dantzler recalled, only one of these namings was met with community resistance—from both residents and city officials.

While the Gloria P. Coles Public Library ultimately retained its name, the controversy revealed something deeper: a disconnect in how we celebrate women across different demographics.

“Most people don’t realize that these libraries are both named after two women in the first place. However, you know, it still becomes pretty noticeable when there are gaps within how these women were celebrated. You know, you want for them both to have the same recognition and support.”

She was careful to clarify that her observation wasn’t meant to diminish either woman’s legacy. Instead, it was a call for consistency—for us to be less “selective” in how, when, and whom we choose to celebrate. At the end of the day, she emphasized, we share a collective identity as women, and that should unite rather than divide us.

Listening to her, I couldn’t help but appreciate how effortlessly she draws on Flint’s history in conversation. It’s a skill that clearly comes from years of staying engaged—of showing up, paying attention, and remaining rooted in the city’s ongoing story.

And show up she does.

Dantzler is known throughout the community for her consistent presence at events, meetings, and forums—anywhere people gather to be heard and push for progress. Whether welcomed or challenged, she makes sure her voice is part of the conversation. Her reputation as strong-willed, outspoken, and unapologetically honest often precedes her.

So when I asked what it meant to her to be seen as a strong, influential activist, her answer caught me off guard.

“I don’t know,” she said. “That’s a tough one. I don’t identify myself as being strong. I just identify myself as being me.”

At first, her response felt surprising. But the more I sat with it, the more it resonated. I know what it feels like to see yourself one way while others perceive you differently.

Hearing someone I admire describe herself so simply—while making such a profound impact—was both humbling and grounding.

“I just want better for my community,” she continued. “Because I know we deserve it. And if something isn’t right, it’s not our job to remain silent. I believe in [speaking up]. I don’t always say something, but if it’s going to impact myself as well as others, it’s time to say something.”

That idea of speaking up as a natural extension of who she is led me to ask about the women who influenced her. She mentioned figures like Stacey Abrams and her book, Stacey Speaks Up, noting that while it’s written for children, its message resonates far beyond that audience.

But one name stood out: Latasha Harlins.

For those unfamiliar, it may not immediately register. But for me, as a young African American woman, it’s a name I make a point never to forget.

Dantzler explained her choice by first acknowledging Latasha as a peer—someone who would have turned fifty this year. She then recounted the tragic story of a young girl killed after being falsely accused of stealing a bottle of orange juice. A story that, while devastating, was overshadowed at the time by the national attention surrounding the beating of Rodney King.

“A lot of times with Black women, we don’t get as much time,” she said. “There’s always something or someone trying to shorten whatever time we have. We tend to get the shorter end of the stick.”

For Dantzler, Latasha’s story serves as a reminder: to carry the torch that so many never had the chance to hold, and to pass it forward to the next generation. She hopes young women will continue that work—with honesty, purpose, and a deep respect for those who came before them, from Latasha Harlins to Billie Holiday to Whitney Houston.

“I believe it’s the next young woman’s job to pick up the torch and [keep moving] forward,” she said.

She laughed briefly, referencing my own journey as a young writer, before returning to her point: while she may not see herself as a bold activist, she hopes to be remembered as someone who spoke up, carried the torch, and encouraged others to do the same—for the betterment of us all.