Remembering Lloyd Williams, My Brother
By Voza Rivers
I met Lloyd Williams nearly seventy years ago, in the Boy Scouts at St. Martin’s Church, when we were just boys growing up in Harlem. Neither of us could have imagined then that this friendship—formed in a church basement, shaped by scouting values, and grounded in a deep love for our neighborhood—would grow into a lifelong partnership devoted to Harlem itself. From the very beginning, Lloyd carried history with him. His godfather was Malcolm X, and through Lloyd I came to understand something profound: Harlem was not just where we lived. It was where history, struggle, culture, and possibility met every single day.
We grew up together in a Harlem alive with ideas and activism. Those early years instilled in us a shared sense of responsibility—to our people, our culture, and the generations coming after us. Service wasn’t a slogan for Lloyd; it was a way of life. That belief guided everything we built together.
In 1974, alongside leaders like Percy Sutton, Charlie Rangel, and David Dinkins, Lloyd and I helped launch what began as Harlem Day. Under Lloyd’s steady leadership as chair and my role as co-chair and executive producer, that single-day celebration grew into Harlem Week, an expansive, month-long affirmation of Harlem’s music, arts, history, and economic power. Lloyd had vision and discipline. He understood structure, strategy, and sustainability. I brought the theater and the storytelling. Together we made sure Harlem Week belonged to the people and that it kept growing. The fact that it continues even after Lloyd’s passing says everything about the foundation he built.
Our work extended far beyond one event. As president of the Greater Harlem Chamber of Commerce, Lloyd championed economic empowerment and made sure Harlem’s renaissance included Black-owned businesses and community voices. At New Heritage Theatre Group, I focused on developing artists and telling our stories on stage. Lloyd and I believed deeply that culture and commerce were not opposites—they were partners in liberation. Together we connected artists, activists, elected officials, and entrepreneurs, always with Harlem at the center.
We also understood the importance of memory. Co-editing Forever Harlem was an act of love—a way to document who we were, where we came from, and why Harlem matters. Lloyd believed that if we didn’t tell our own story, someone else would tell it for us and get it wrong.
Losing Lloyd in August 2025—so soon after losing my wife, Sharon—was devastating. It felt like the closing of a chapter that defined my life. But Lloyd was not just a colleague. He was my brother. And brothers don’t disappear—they live on in the work, in the institutions, and in the community they helped shape.
Lloyd Williams’ legacy is Harlem itself: resilient, brilliant, and forever moving forward.
