Aaron Covington plays to win
Covington at the MLK Memorial. | Photo: Kristine Jones
Aaron Covington is in it to win it. ‘It’ could refer to almost anything upon which the St. Louis native trains his technical mind, including building robots and computers, running the 400-meter dash in 45.5 seconds, or leading thousands into the streets as the co-founder of His Mission Organization. If protesting was a sport, Covington would no doubt qualify for the Olympics— something he was poised to do in track and field until he injured his leg. Covington’s injury may have ended his chances at going for the gold, but luckily it didn’t crush all of his Olympic-sized dreams.
Today, he may not be able to run as much, or as fast, as he used to, but you wouldn’t know it if you happen to catch a glimpse of him—with his fist raised and shirt off—in the streets or on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Covington has a runner’s physique and still looks fast, even if recently, it’s not his legs, but his mind and mouth that are running a mile a minute.
In 2015, Covington was attending Morgan State University in Baltimore on a track scholarship when Freddie Gray died of injuries sustained while in police custody. Covington says he and a friend “just wanted to find out what was going on,” and ended up joining their first-ever protest. Five years later, he took a similar approach when the streets of Washington, D.C. sprung to life in the days following George Floyd’s brutal death. On the night of May 30, Covington and four of his friends were looking for an established group to join, but found that as they marched, others began to fall in line behind them.
Covington speaking to a crowd. | Photo: Kristine Jones
“Our intentions were just to come out and be part of the crowd,” Covington says. “The five of us weren’t trying to do anything but join a march and we became a march.”
Covington admits that he was living a “party lifestyle” earlier this year, but Floyd’s death and the resulting demonstrations across the country jolted him back into fighting shape. “Everything is different now,” he says. “In the past two months my life has changed completely.”
But as any athlete knows, the road to victory is littered with both physical and spiritual hurdles—and the path to justice is much longer than the 400-meter dash. “The first time I went out and marched, I threw up 36 times,” Covington says. “I was purging my system of all the impurities. All the negativity inside me was literally coming out. But now every time I march, I can yell a little louder, I can go a little farther.”
Covington leading a march.
MAKING IT WORK
Covington grew up in Missouri and North Carolina, but he just recently moved back to the D.C. area for a job, or rather he says, for three. He works in IT for an independent federal agency, is a lead commentator for all-black owned Combat Championship Wrestling (C3W), and leads protests. The last of which, despite what some may claim, is an unpaid passion project—but one that Covington takes as seriously as his full- and part-time jobs.
He recognizes that his unique CV might raise some eyebrows or appear to create a conflict of interest(s). “People say ‘You work for the government and you’re protesting?’” Covington says. “But I can do both. I’m going to fix your computer and become friends with you and then hopefully we can have a conversation.”
Covington has a way with words that goes against everything you might expect from a self-described “tech guy,” but his brain—both the creative right, and analytical left side—seems to have always fired on all cylinders. Growing up, he sang in the choir and played drums at his grandfather’s church. It was hard to hold his attention in school and he got kicked out of band after quickly mastering—and growing bored of—the three keys on his trumpet. He says he got into trouble until a prescient teacher encouraged him to learn about computers. “He said ‘If you can build a computer, I’ll let you take it home,’” Covington says. “I was sold from there. He changed my life.”
Covington wears knee pads so he can take a knee during marches. | Photo: Kristine Jones
Luckily, his hands are just as agile as his feet and Covington says he enjoys “troubleshooting and fixing things that other people don’t like to touch,” such as fragile LED screens or complicated battery swaps. “It makes me valuable,” he says. “And not many people that look like me get jobs in IT.”
Despite the contradictions, Covington slips effortlessly between his roles as both a professional and a protestor. He seems equally at ease in a collared shirt and oxfords as he does in a Black Lives Matter t-shirt and sneakers. One of his t-shirts features the phrase “Make America great” which has been altered to read “Make us equal.”
Covington may have a competitive streak, but he thinks the fight for equality is a team sport—more about the race than anyone’s particular race. “We’re all on the same team, we’re all fighting together,” he says. “I’m going to pass the baton because we have to beat these jokers to get to where we want to go. Do you want to build toward a common cause or do you want to be stuck in a rut? If you’re just thinking about yourself, you’re stuck. That’s the small picture. I tell people to look at the big picture.”
Yelling protest chants.
Although he acknowledges the importance of insisting that Black lives matter, Covington says it’s important that a lot of the people that march alongside and behind him are not Black. “We all want the same things,” Covington says. “If you ask someone who is racist ‘Why don’t you like Black people?’ They can’t even give you an answer anymore. They say, ‘We don’t even know why—it’s what we were told, it’s how we grew up.’”
Covington credits his own diverse family with showing him how equality is possible on a larger, global scale. His grandfather was Black and his grandmother is white. “If we can make it happen, everybody else can make it work,” Covington says. “We love each other equally so I know it can happen.”
Covington speaking to a crowd. | Photo: Kristine Jones
THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY
Like many Americans, Covington first came to D.C. on an eighth grade field trip. “It was the biggest deal ever,” he says. “I was the only person in my family who got a chance to go. I said ‘I’m moving to D.C. one day,’ but didn’t think I’d ever actually get a chance.”
Now that his chance has arrived, he doesn’t intend to waste it. Since the end of May, Covington, Antonio Mingo, and the other members of His Mission have led several marches through the District, drawing thousands of people—including Covington’s parents. He says his dad and stepmom had a rocky relationship but reconnected after participating in a recent protest.
“Anything can happen,” Covington says. “It’s hard to explain the feeling that you get in D.C. specifically. D.C. is the heart of our country. As soon as we stepped on the streets it was electric. With every step I took, I believed even more that we could really get change. If we change the heart, the rest of the country will follow.”
Covington bowing his head in prayer before a march.
Covington may be good at seeing the big picture, but he also recognizes the value in fostering small, individual connections. At every march, Covington and Mingo stop periodically to take a knee—both frequently wear knee pads—and Covington encourages people to exchange their name with the person to their left, and tell the person to their right that they love them. It’s a simple gesture—likely inspired by both men’s spiritual upbringings—but one that’s surprisingly effective.
“It’s one thing to hear ‘I love you’ come from a family member,” Covington says. “But if a stranger tells me and it’s genuine, that hits different. I say at the end of marches ‘Now, we’re family.’ That’s how we become brothers and sisters and protect each other.”
But after three non-stop months, Covington is looking to turn the momentum generated by marches into real, structural change. “We’re going to get away from marching,” he says. “There’s something that you’re going to get in marching that you’re not going to get in any other aspect of protesting. But we also need to be having conversations with people who are in positions of power. It might feel like you can’t access these people because of their title, but you can access these people because of their title. They’re working for you.”
President Covington. | Photo: Kristine Jones
WANTING CHANGE
If you sit anywhere near the National Mall for long enough, the conversation will inevitably turn to politics. It’s about two hours after he steps out of the reflecting pool before I ask Covington if he has aspirations to run for office in the future. His answer comes in less than two seconds: “Oh I'm going to run for president,” he says. “I don’t want to, but I’m going to run. I would seriously fight for change and want equality for everybody. I would handle things differently than any other president has. I want everybody to succeed. I would set the country up for success.”
Covington says his father never got a chance to say “I’m proud to be an American” until Barack Obama was elected in 2008—but he hopes by following his father’s advice to “keep a good name and lead by example,” that he’ll have the chance to similarly inspire other people.
“There is an American Dream that exists, it’s just not the same dream for everybody,” Covington says. “I’m not saying I’m going to be your MLK. I’m not saying I’m going to be your Malcolm X. I’m not going to say I’m an activist or a demonstrator—I’m just a person out here who wants change and I’m sick of talking about the same thing over and over again.”
Covington says he’s not trying to be the next MLK. | Photo: Kristine Jones
He may have struggled to find his footing in high school, but Covington has become a diligent student who repeatedly stresses the importance of “doing your own research.” Since assuming a leadership role, he has studied similar movements and leaders throughout history, intent to not repeat their mistakes.
While he strikes a pose under the granite gaze of MLK Jr.—whose extramarital affairs still cast a long shadow on his reputation—Covington says he’s “100% single,” and immediately produces photos of a Shiba Inu named Castiel, who he alternately calls “my handsome young man,” and “my son.”
On August 28, five days after he celebrated his 27th birthday, Covington got a chance to talk with MLK’s granddaughter Yolanda, his son, Martin Luther King III, and Reverend Al Sharpton at the Commitment March on Washington. Sharpton told Covington and his friends, “I’ve been watching you guys, keep up the good work.”
Covington and Mingo at the March on Washington. | Photo: Kristine Jones
FIST UP
I’ve joined several marches led by Covington and I can confirm that he is indeed doing good work—and it’s working. Everyone wants to join the winning team and Covington’s commitment is contagious. Although he’s used to pushing past them, Covington recognizes that there are limits to his influence.
“You can’t force someone to agree with you,” he says. “I’m going to tell you what I believe is right but I’ll never tell you what’s wrong. I want you to draw your own conclusions. I tell people ’I’m not trying to change you, I’m trying to change the way you think.’” Covington frequently shakes hands with receptive police officers and encourages them to join him in taking a knee. He understands the motivations behind so-called “riots” and “looting,” but tries to keep his protests civil. He likens aggressive, headline-grabbing moments to “bugs on a TV screen,” and once again says how important it is to focus on the big picture and remain open to new ideas.
“If you’re not teachable, you can’t teach anybody else,” Covington says. “You have to be able to sit down and learn from somebody else before you can give to anybody else. And don’t start chanting something if you can’t bring me a solution afterwards.”
Covington in the reflecting pool. | Photo: Kristine Jones
Although it was a physical setback that forced Covington to reevaluate his life goals, “It’s all about this up here,” he says, pointing to his head. “It’s a mental game. If you get this right, your legs will take you the rest of the way.” He’s talking about running track, of course, but I suspect he feels the same about protesting. When I ask him what he would say to those looking to get involved, it’s no surprise that his advice could apply to those looking for a physical transformation as well as a spiritual one.
“Just take that first step,” Covington says. “I walked outside, stuck my fist up, and started walking. And people fell in line. I didn’t come back the same way I left—I came back with power. I came back with people. I went down the street as an individual, but I came back with unity.”
