#nat turner

[whatevergreen]

Portrait of Nat Turner (October 2, 1800 – November 11, 1831), 1969 - Frank Cieciorka

"I believe in arousing the minds of poor slaves and I will not cease stirring them up until there is not a chain or a fetter to be seen."

[sir-illmatic]

🎥🍿

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[arinzeture]

[blackstarlineage]

Nat Turner (1800–1831), a revolutionary freedom fighter, a symbol of resistance, and a spiritual leader who dared to challenge the violent system of white supremacy and slavery.

Born into slavery in Virginia, Turner was a deeply spiritual man who believed he was divinely called to lead his people to liberation. In a time when enslaved Black people were denied basic humanity, Turner saw no other path to freedom but rebellion. His 1831 uprising was not senseless violence—it was a calculated act of resistance against generations of rape, torture, forced labour, and dehumanization.

Turner’s rebellion struck terror into the heart of a society built on Black oppression, forcing America to reckon with the reality that enslaved people would not be silent forever. He represents the fire that refused to be extinguished, the spirit of Black liberation that would echo through the Haitian Revolution, the Civil Rights Movement, and the Black Lives Matter era.

Though the system responded with brutal repression, Turner’s courage continues to inspire those who believe in justice, self-determination, and the right of oppressed people to fight back. From a pro-Black perspective, Nat Turner is not just part of history—he is a legacy of resistance, a reminder that Black freedom has always been fought for, never given.

[ayeolaomolara]

"Our Abolitionist Ancestors" Stickers now available at Ayeola. org

It's Black History Month! You may not have noticed because there's been a systematic dismantling of every concession Black and Brown folks have received in our continued struggle against white supremacy...

Regardless, every month is Black history month. Everyday is indigenous peoples day. This country is built on colonized lands that are still being fought for to this day by the Black and Brown folks who have lived in harmony with turtle island for centuries before Columbus stumbled upon it spreading his diseases and lies.

These stickers highlight the nuance of Black history by showcasing the depth of sacrifice abolitionists had to endure. Every right we have gained was hard fought. We didn't get free by asking politely.

These stickers serve as a reminder of what resistance truly entails and as a way to dispel the myth of nonviolent resistance being the most effective method against slavery and genocide. Struggle anyway you want to, but don't trust folks who suggest that self defense or the actions of John Brown and Nat Turner were anything but righteous. Our ancestors did not wear inflatable dinosaurs costumes. Harriet Tubman was an armed general in a war against slave owners who whipped pregnant people to get them to give birth faster.

The history of slavery and indigenous genocide in this country is sobering. It helps one understand that context we live within and then act accordingly. You can't convince colonizers to be nice. You literally have to disempower them by building up and acting upon collective power. Do you think you just fell out of a coconut tree? Get up and join the revolution ca

"Institutional racism relies on the active and pervasive operation of anti-black attitudes and practices. "Respectable" individuals can absolve themselves from individual blame: they would never plant a bomb in a church; they would never stone a black family. But they continue to support political officials and institutions that would and do perpetuate institutionally racist policies." ~Kwame Ture

[afriblaq]

[iphigeniacomplex]

The Ballad of Nat Turner by Robert Hayden

Then fled, O brethren, the wicked juba and wandered wandered far from curfew joys in the Dismal’s night. Fool of St. Elmo’s fire

In scary night I wandered, praying, Lord God my harshener, speak to me now or let me die; speak, Lord, to this mourner.

And came at length to livid trees where Ibo warriors hung shadowless, turning in wind that moaned like Africa,

Their belltongue bodies dead, their eyes alive with the anger deep in my own heart. Is this the sign, the sign forepromised me?

The spirits vanished. Afraid and lonely I wandered on in blackness. Speak to me now or let me die. Die, whispered the blackness.

And wild things gasped and scuffled in the night; seething shapes of evil frolicked upon the air. I reeled with fear, I prayed.

Sudden brightness clove the preying darkness, brightness that was itself a golden darkness, brightness so bright that it was darkness.

And there were angels, their faces hidden from me, angels at war with one another, angels in dazzling combat. And oh the splendor,

The fearful splendor of that warring. Hide me, I cried to rock and bramble. Hide me, the rock, the bramble cried. . . .  How tell you of that holy battle?

The shock of wing on wing and sword on sword was the tumult of a taken city burning. I cannot say how long they strove,

For the wheel in a turning wheel which is time in eternity had ceased its whirling, and owl and moccasin, panther and nameless beast

And I were held like creatures fixed in flaming, in fiery amber. But I saw I saw oh many of those mighty beings waver,

Waver and fall, go streaking down into swamp water, and the water hissed and steamed and bubbled and locked shuddering shuddering over

The fallen and soon was motionless. Then that massive light began a-folding slowly in upon itself, and I

Beheld the conqueror faces and, lo, they were like mine, I saw they were like mine and in joy and terror wept, praising praising Jehovah.

Oh praised my honer, harshener till a sleep came over me, a sleep heavy as death. And when I awoke at last free

And purified, I rose and prayed and returned after a time to the blazing fields, to the humbleness. And bided my time.