From a bold youth movement to a lasting legacy, UBAD’s message of Black pride, courage, and community continues to inspire new generations to stand tall and speak truth.

By Ismael Perez

SANTA ELENA TOWN, Sun. Aug. 31, 2025

   One evening, while searching online for information about Amandala, I stumbled across something that stopped me in my tracks—UBAD. I remembered learning about it back in sixth form, and just seeing the name stirred something in me. Memories, questions, and a sense of pride came rushing back.
   Amandala, the iconic newspaper we know today, actually began as the voice of UBAD—the United Black Association for Development—founded on February 9, 1969. Though the movement officially dissolved by 1974, Amandala kept going strong. That’s not coincidence. It’s legacy.
   Because UBAD wasn’t just a group—it was a spark. A force rooted in Black pride, resistance, and the courage to speak truth to power. Its most well-known leader, Evan X Hyde, gave the movement its voice. And even though UBAD disappeared from politics, its spirit still moves Belize.
   UBAD rose out of a need. A response to colonial hangover, systemic neglect, and a society where Black Belizeans were too often silenced or sidelined. It emerged at a time when Black pride was gaining ground globally—from the civil rights struggles in the U.S. to anti-colonial fights across Africa and the Caribbean.
   It started with a small group of young people filled with fire and vision, drawing inspiration from Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, and revolutionary thinkers. They wanted to restore pride, educate their community, and celebrate Black identity. And they were bold enough to say so, in a Belize that wasn’t always ready to hear it.
   UBAD wasn’t just about talk—it was about action. They created breakfast programs for hungry children, launched community-based economic projects like the UBAFU bakery, and held public meetings that challenged the official narratives of the day. They didn’t wait for permission to serve or to speak—they just did it.
   When UBAD’s first president, Lionel Clarke, left the country, a 21-year-old Evan Anthony Hyde stepped up. Educated at St. John’s College, and later Dartmouth in the U.S., Evan returned home full of ideas, passion, and a deep love for his people. Under his leadership, UBAD grew sharper, stronger, louder. And it gave birth to Amandala (August 13, 1969)—not just a newsletter, but a platform that would change the landscape of Belizean media.
   Evan’s writing pulled no punches. He called out injustice, racism, and political hypocrisy with clarity and fire. In 1970, he, as editor, and the then publisher of the newspaper, Ismail Omar Shabazz, were even arrested and charged with “seditious conspiracy” over an article, “Games Old People Play”, in the Amandala. They were acquitted, but the message was clear: UBAD had struck a nerve. And Evan had become a force to reckon with.
   But UBAD was more than politics. It sparked a cultural awakening. Black Belizeans began to see themselves differently—in books, in history, in hairstyles, in pride. The movement encouraged critical education rooted in African heritage and asked hard questions about the Eurocentric lenses many were raised with.
   Politically, UBAD even launched its own party. Though they didn’t win seats, they disrupted the status quo, forcing Belize to confront uncomfortable truths about race, power, and representation. Like many movements, internal tensions eventually led to their dissolution in 1974.
   But their impact didn’t dissolve. It deepened.
   UBAD planted seeds. And Evan X Hyde kept watering them—through Amandala, KREM Radio, KREM TV, and decades of fearless commentary.
   Today, Amandala stands as UBAD’s most enduring legacy—still sharp, still independent, still under Evan’s direction. That matters. Especially in a time when his own son, Cordel Hyde, now serves as a senior government minister. Yet, Evan’s pen remains loyal not to party or family—but to truth.
   UBAD’s energy lives on not just in media, but in places like the Library of African and Indian Studies, where erased histories are preserved and shared. It lives in the voices on KREM, in the questions asked by today’s youth, in every effort to remember who we are and where we come from.
   You may not see the name UBAD on signs or ballots anymore—but if you listen closely, you’ll hear them in the courage to speak out, in the hunger to know our roots, in the pride of those who walk tall without apology.
   In today’s fast-moving world of hashtags and headlines, UBAD might seem like a story from another time. But it’s not. The same struggles they faced—racism, inequality, economic exclusion—still exist. They just wear new clothes.
   Young Belizeans are still searching for dignity, identity, and opportunity. UBAD’s story reminds us that we don’t need permission to rise. All we need is vision, courage, and unity.
   And in a time when honest voices can get drowned out in noise, Evan X Hyde’s example still matters. Integrity and fearlessness aren’t trends. They’re foundations.
   UBAD reminds me that real change comes from people who care deeply and refuse to sit quietly. Their story still speaks to us, if we’re willing to listen. It says: love yourself, love your people, know your history, and don’t be afraid to fight for something bigger than yourself.
   It’s part of my journey too. A lesson I carry daily: stand strong when silence is easier, believe in yourself when others don’t. UBAD taught us that our voices matter—and when we speak them with truth and pride, the spirit of the movement lives on.