"...My brothers, this is a very pregnant moment, pregnant with the possibility of tremendous change in our status in America and the world." --Louis Farrakhan, Oct. 16, 1995

I always knew that I was going. From the moment that a polite Nation of Islam brother sold me a copy of The Final Call, a newspaper which outlined the plan for the Million Man March, 1 knew that I would be in Washington D.C. on October 16, 1995. I knew that history would be made on that day.

However, the actual march was even more tremendous than I imagined it would be. From my position near the steps of the U.S. Capitol, I looked down the Mall and saw a sea of black faces that stretched all the way to the Washington monument. And as I cheered, clapped my hands and raised my fist in the Black Power salute with hundreds of thousands of other black men, I felt an incomparable felling of brotherhood and solidarity.

Regardless of the number of marchers, the Million Man March displayed some of the best attributes of black men. We are often maligned as a criminal class, given to looting and rioting. And yet, in the largest mobilization of black men ever, peace and civility reigned. Black fathers and sons, rich and poor, from stockbrokers to recovering addicts, came together to take responsibility for their communities.

Black men did not come to Washington to ask for handouts from the government. Black men did not come to the nation's capitol to gripe and complain or to ask someone to solve their problems for them. Black men did not unite to foster hatred of any other ethnic groups, nor to engender sexism.

The march was so historic and so memorable because black men met to atone for their shortcomings and pledged to heal their communities. Spiritual rededication was an important theme. Part of the mission statement of the march emphasized that black people should "meditate on and seek right relationships with the Creator, with each other and with nature."

However, the marchers also convened to hold the government and corporate America accountable for battling institutionalized white supremacy and discrimination. The march focused on opposing the "dangerous and regressive turn to the right" in American politics. Corporations were urged to exercise moral responsibility and to reinvest their profits in black communities.

The march presented a vision of hope. Speakers such as Dr. Benjamin Chavis, Maya Angelou and Rev. Jesse Jackson inspired the jubilant crowd. And yes, even Minister Louis Farrakhan, though long-winded, preached a message that emphasized courage and faith. He was unflinching in his rebuke of white supremacy as well as black wrongs. All Americans should have listened to him. His speech was not a hateful rant nor the message of a bigot.

Although he was the organizer and the primary messenger of the Million Man March, this event was broader than just Farrakhan. The march was an expression of unity but not uniformity. It brought together various political and religious organizations that may disagree on strategy. But they all agree that black suffering is a common problem that demands a common solution.

The march set a new tone for Black America. It signaled an end to an era of dependence. The march was conceived, planned and carried out by black leaders. It also united leaders who were previously at odds. The day is past when whites can influence the agends or the leaders Black America embraces.

What kind of effects will follow in the wake of this mighty demonstration? Well, besides gaining intangible benefits such as renewed determination, self-confidence and religious revival, the marchers were also instructed in practical ways to improve their communities. Voter registration, adoption of black foster children and outreach to prison inmates were suggested. Education, entrepreneurship and moral living were also stressed. Given the energy and the boldness that this march unleashed, it is hard to see how the black men who participated can resist transforming their communities.

David W. Brown's column appears on alternate Wednesdays.