CLEVELAND — The women activists here at the first-ever Movement for Black Lives repeat a common refrain: Sandra Bland could have been them.

At every turn in her interaction with the arresting officer, the activists will tell you, Bland knew her rights. The activists are watching the videos Bland posted to Facebook, in which she talks about... a lot of the stuff that the movement is talking about. In person and on Twitter with the hashtag #SandySpeaks, they're replaying Bland's words over and over.

The first day of Movement for Black Lives came and went Friday with activists of all stripes, from the Bay Area to Queens, participating in everything from workshops on best organizing practices to panels on AIDS activism. The day was capped with an emotional ceremony that included the families of Tamir Rice and Tanisha Anderson, who were both killed by police in Cleveland. It ended with a raucous dance party to Kendrick Lamar's "Alright."

But the day's activism brought an unusual aspect — and many say problem — of the movement to the forefront.

Black Lives Matter was founded and cultivated by women activists fed up with the notion, they say, that men could be killed with little to no accountability or justice on their behalf. Now, a woman's story is front-and-center in the movement's activism. Now, the women in leadership are calling for men to show up.

Tia Oso, of the Brooklyn-based Black Alliance for Just Immigration, helped lead the action that rattled two presidential candidates at Netroots Nation. She said that three women — Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi and Alicia Garza — founded Black Lives Matter, which makes the movement "a continuous gender moment."

"When a black man gets killed," she said, "it's always a black woman who is always first to run out in the street to call for justice. It's not even a thought of whether we're not going to show up. But as a man, maybe the first thought is, 'Why do they keep killing us?' or, 'Damn, I need to get justice!' But a black woman's first thought is, like, 'Oh, hell no'."

Even as pockets of the movement are calling for men to be more vocal and active in organizing, activists like Dante Barry are careful to point out that the movement need not be be centered around men to thrive.

"It's about being able as a cisgender black man," he said, "in coordination with black women, to show up with a fierce urgency as much as they do — and to understand that I have a sense of my own privilege" as it relates to the movement and its external interactions.

Still, he tweeted on the subject after being nudged by Ashley Yates, another activist, over the phone.