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Marcus Garvey found the key to his freedom and ours in a London library. He was twenty-six years old, nearly broke, reading in the British Museum when he picked up a book written by a man born into American slavery. The book was Up From Slavery.
By the time Garvey finished, a question burned through him that would reshape Black consciousness across the globe: “Where is the black man’s government? Where is his King and his kingdom? Where is his President, his country, and his ambassador, his army, his navy, his men of big affairs?” Washington had shown him what one man could build from nothing. Garvey decided to build a nation.
Born enslaved in Virginia in 1856, denied literacy by the laws and violence of slavery, Washington labored in coal mines, working in darkness while dreaming of letters. He walked five hundred miles to reach the Hampton Institute because he believed education was a liberation strategy. When he founded Tuskegee, his students made the bricks that built an institution. They owned the ground beneath their feet because they had created it with their own hands.
This was the blueprint Garvey recognized. Washington was not waiting for inclusion into someone else’s structure. He was manufacturing the raw materials of sovereignty. Garvey did not inherit Washington’s caution, but he inherited his proof. “Intelligence rules the world and ignorance carries the burden,” Garvey wrote, because he knew that intelligence without institutions remains powerless. If we could build schools from nothing, we could build shipping lines. If we could build shipping lines, we could build economies. If we could build economies, we could answer the question Garvey asked after closing that book.
“Cast down your bucket where you are,” Washington urged. Find the resources around you rather than waiting for salvation from elsewhere. Garvey cast down his bucket and pulled up a global movement. The Universal Negro Improvement Association, the Black Star Line, and the vision of African redemption all grew from seeds planted in Alabama’s red clay, where formerly enslaved people were making their own bricks. Washington proved building was possible when you started with nothing but your mind, your purpose, and your hands. Garvey took that proof and scaled it across oceans.
The exhaustion our young people feel today comes from trying to live inside Babylon’s architecture. Washington and Garvey understood something more dangerous to the existing order. We do not need their blueprints for our survival. We need only the recognition that our hands have always been capable of construction.
What will we build from nothing?
By Geoffrey PhilpMarcus Garvey found the key to his freedom and ours in a London library. He was twenty-six years old, nearly broke, reading in the British Museum when he picked up a book written by a man born into American slavery. The book was Up From Slavery.
By the time Garvey finished, a question burned through him that would reshape Black consciousness across the globe: “Where is the black man’s government? Where is his King and his kingdom? Where is his President, his country, and his ambassador, his army, his navy, his men of big affairs?” Washington had shown him what one man could build from nothing. Garvey decided to build a nation.
Born enslaved in Virginia in 1856, denied literacy by the laws and violence of slavery, Washington labored in coal mines, working in darkness while dreaming of letters. He walked five hundred miles to reach the Hampton Institute because he believed education was a liberation strategy. When he founded Tuskegee, his students made the bricks that built an institution. They owned the ground beneath their feet because they had created it with their own hands.
This was the blueprint Garvey recognized. Washington was not waiting for inclusion into someone else’s structure. He was manufacturing the raw materials of sovereignty. Garvey did not inherit Washington’s caution, but he inherited his proof. “Intelligence rules the world and ignorance carries the burden,” Garvey wrote, because he knew that intelligence without institutions remains powerless. If we could build schools from nothing, we could build shipping lines. If we could build shipping lines, we could build economies. If we could build economies, we could answer the question Garvey asked after closing that book.
“Cast down your bucket where you are,” Washington urged. Find the resources around you rather than waiting for salvation from elsewhere. Garvey cast down his bucket and pulled up a global movement. The Universal Negro Improvement Association, the Black Star Line, and the vision of African redemption all grew from seeds planted in Alabama’s red clay, where formerly enslaved people were making their own bricks. Washington proved building was possible when you started with nothing but your mind, your purpose, and your hands. Garvey took that proof and scaled it across oceans.
The exhaustion our young people feel today comes from trying to live inside Babylon’s architecture. Washington and Garvey understood something more dangerous to the existing order. We do not need their blueprints for our survival. We need only the recognition that our hands have always been capable of construction.
What will we build from nothing?