HARRIET TUBMAN

The Moses of Her People

In the depths of a Maryland forest in 1849, a young enslaved woman named Harriet stood at the edge of two worlds—behind her lay everything she had ever known, ahead stretched the terrifying unknown of freedom. As she took that first step north, following the North Star through darkness, she didn't just cross a geographical boundary. She crossed the threshold from victim to liberator, from the enslaved to the one who would break chains, transforming not only her own destiny but becoming the living embodiment of liberation for hundreds of others who would follow her back through that same darkness toward the light.

The Ordinary World

Harriet Ross was born into the brutal ordinary world of slavery on Maryland's Eastern Shore around 1822, where human beings were property and dreams of freedom were dangerous luxuries. Her world was circumscribed by the Brodas plantation, where she learned early that survival meant invisibility, that speaking up brought the lash, and that family bonds could be severed at any moment by a master's whim. She worked in the fields from childhood, her small hands picking cotton and corn, her spirit seemingly contained within the iron boundaries of bondage.

Her ordinary world was one where enslaved people were expected to accept their fate, where resistance meant death, and where the horizon of possibility extended no further than the plantation's borders. She lived in the slave quarters with her parents, Ben and Rit, among siblings who might be sold away at any moment. This was a world where literacy was forbidden, where movement was restricted, and where the very concept of self-determination was considered an impossibility for people who looked like her.

Yet even in this constrained existence, seeds of the extraordinary were already germinating. Young Harriet possessed an unusual spiritual intensity, experiencing visions and dreams that seemed to come from beyond the material world. She had inherited her father's knowledge of the woods and waterways, learning to read the natural signs that would later guide her through countless dangerous journeys.

The Call to Adventure

The call came in 1849 when Harriet learned that she and her brothers were to be sold south to the Deep South plantations—a fate considered worse than death among enslaved people. The news shattered any illusion of stability in her ordinary world. At the same time, she began experiencing increasingly vivid visions of flying over fields and towns, of crossing rivers, of reaching a land where she could be free.

The call intensified when her master died and the estate faced financial difficulties. The threat of being sold away from her family and her husband, John Tubman, became imminent. But the call wasn't just about her own freedom—in her visions, she saw herself leading others to safety, though she couldn't yet comprehend the full magnitude of what was being asked of her.

The spiritual dimension of her call was unmistakable. She later described receiving direct communications from God, visions that showed her not just her own path to freedom, but her destiny as a liberator. The call was asking this young enslaved woman to do the impossible: not only escape the most surveilled and violent system of oppression in America, but to return repeatedly into that danger to lead others out.

Refusal of the Call

Initially, Harriet tried to convince her husband John to flee with her, hoping to maintain some semblance of her ordinary life while answering the call to freedom. When he refused and even threatened to turn her in, she faced the terrible choice between love and liberation. She also attempted to bring her brothers with her on her first escape attempt, but their fear and practical concerns forced them all to turn back.

The refusal wasn't just personal—it was practical. She had no money, no connections, no knowledge of the route north. She couldn't read maps or signs. The penalties for attempted escape were severe: whipping, branding, sale to the brutal sugar plantations of the Deep South, or death. Every reasonable voice around her counseled acceptance of her fate.

She clung to the familiar, even in its horror, because the unknown seemed even more terrifying. The comfortable despair of slavery was at least predictable, while freedom represented a leap into complete uncertainty. She had witnessed the brutal punishment of other would-be escapees, their broken bodies serving as warnings to anyone who dared dream of liberation.

Meeting the Mentor(s)

Harriet's primary mentor was the divine voice she heard in her visions and prayers—a direct spiritual guidance that she trusted completely throughout her life. But she also received crucial earthly guidance from members of the Underground Railroad network, particularly Quaker abolitionists who provided her with the first practical knowledge of escape routes and safe houses.

Her father, Ben Ross, unknowingly served as a mentor by teaching her woodcraft and navigation skills during her childhood. His knowledge of the natural world—how to read the stars, move silently through forests, and find food and shelter in the wilderness—became essential tools for her future missions.

The Underground Railroad "conductor" who helped her on her first successful escape served as a crucial mentor, showing her that the network of abolitionists was real and that freedom was actually achievable. This person gave her the names and locations of safe houses, the coded language of the Railroad, and most importantly, the confidence that she could navigate the dangerous journey north.

Perhaps most significantly, her mentor was her own unshakeable faith. She developed an intimate relationship with what she called "the Lord," receiving specific guidance about routes, timing, and dangers. This spiritual mentorship gave her the supernatural confidence that would later inspire others to trust her with their lives.

Crossing the Threshold

In September 1849, Harriet made the irrevocable decision to escape alone. The threshold moment came when she walked away from the plantation at night, leaving behind her husband, her family, and everything she had ever known. She later described this moment: "I had reasoned this out in my mind; there was one of two things I had a right to, liberty or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other."

The physical threshold was crossing the Mason-Dixon line into Pennsylvania, but the psychological threshold was even more profound. With each step north, she was crossing from slavery into freedom, from powerlessness into agency, from victim into hero. She was also crossing from the known world into the mythic realm where she would be tested and transformed.

The moment she set foot on free soil in Philadelphia, she experienced a profound spiritual transformation. She later recalled: "I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything; the sun came like gold through the trees, and over the fields, and I felt like I was in Heaven."

But crossing this threshold also meant accepting that she could never truly be free while others remained in bondage. The moment of her liberation became simultaneously the moment of her calling to return and liberate others.

Tests, Allies, and Enemies

Harriet's tests began immediately with her first return trip to Maryland in 1850 to rescue her niece and her niece's children. Each subsequent journey presented escalating challenges: navigating by the North Star, avoiding slave catchers, managing groups of frightened escapees, finding food and shelter, and maintaining absolute secrecy.

Her allies included the network of Underground Railroad "stationmasters"—both Black and white abolitionists who provided safe houses, food, and guidance. Thomas Garrett, a Quaker in Delaware, became a crucial ally, as did William Still in Philadelphia, who coordinated many rescue operations. She also found unexpected allies among enslaved people who, while unable to escape themselves, provided crucial intelligence about patrol schedules and safe routes.

Her enemies were formidable: professional slave catchers who hunted escapees for bounties, federal marshals enforcing the Fugitive Slave Act, and the entire legal and social system that supported slavery. The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 made her work exponentially more dangerous, as it required citizens to assist in capturing escapees and denied them the right to a jury trial.

Perhaps her greatest test was learning to overcome the fears and doubts of the people she was trying to rescue. Many enslaved people had been so broken by the system that they couldn't believe freedom was possible. She had to become not just a guide but a source of unshakeable faith and determination.

Approach to the Inmost Cave

As Harriet's reputation grew and bounties on her head increased (eventually reaching $40,000), each journey south became an approach to the inmost cave of American slavery. She was venturing deeper into the heart of the system that had created her, facing not just external dangers but the psychological challenge of returning to the scene of her own trauma.

The approach intensified with each mission. She developed elaborate disguises and strategies, sometimes posing as a man, sometimes as an old woman, always studying the patterns of her enemies. She gathered intelligence about patrol schedules, safe routes, and the specific circumstances of the people she planned to rescue.

The inmost cave was both geographical—the Deep South plantations where slavery was most entrenched—and psychological: the place where she had to confront the full horror of the system she was fighting. Each return trip meant facing the possibility of recapture, torture, and death, not just for herself but for everyone who trusted her.

Her preparation became increasingly spiritual as well as practical. She would fast and pray before each mission, seeking divine guidance about timing and routes. She developed an almost supernatural ability to sense danger, often changing plans at the last moment based on intuitive warnings.

The Ordeal (Death and Rebirth)

Harriet's ultimate ordeal wasn't a single event but the accumulated weight of nineteen trips into slave territory, each one a death-and-rebirth experience. However, one of her most profound ordeals came during the Civil War when she served as a spy and scout for the Union Army, culminating in the Combahee River Raid in 1863.

In this mission, she guided Union gunboats up the Combahee River in South Carolina, leading a raid that destroyed Confederate supplies and liberated more than 700 enslaved people in a single operation. This was her descent into the deepest heart of the Confederacy, where she faced not just personal death but the possibility of failure that would doom hundreds of others.

The ordeal was also psychological and spiritual. Each time she returned to slave territory, she had to die to her own safety and comfort, surrendering completely to her mission. She faced the constant possibility that her luck would run out, that she would be captured and tortured, that the people following her would lose faith and turn back.

The death-and-rebirth cycle was also evident in how she had to kill her old identity as Harriet Ross, the enslaved woman, and be reborn as Harriet Tubman, the liberator. Each successful mission required her to transcend her own trauma and fear, to become larger than her personal history.

Seizing the Sword (Reward)

Through her ordeals, Harriet gained something far more valuable than personal freedom: she became a living symbol of liberation and proof that the impossible was possible. Her reward was the development of almost supernatural abilities—an uncanny sense of danger, perfect navigation skills, and an unshakeable faith that inspired others to trust her with their lives.

She gained the power to see through the illusion of slavery's permanence, to recognize that the system that seemed so solid and eternal was actually fragile and could be undermined by courage and determination. Her reward was becoming a master of both worlds—able to move between the world of slavery and freedom with equal skill.

Most importantly, she gained the ability to transform others. People who met her described being changed by her presence, inspired by her absolute certainty that freedom was not only possible but inevitable. She had become a conduit for liberation, a person through whom others could access their own heroic potential.

Her reward was also practical: she never lost a single person on any of her missions. This perfect record became part of her legend and gave her increasing credibility and influence within the abolitionist movement.

The Road Back

Harriet's road back was complicated by the fact that her mission required constant returns to the world of danger. Unlike many heroes who return once with their boon, she had to travel back and forth between the worlds of slavery and freedom repeatedly. Each return to the North brought the challenge of convincing skeptical abolitionists that her methods worked and that more resources should be devoted to direct action.

She faced resistance from some abolitionists who preferred legal and political approaches to ending slavery. Her direct action methods seemed too dangerous and radical to some, who worried that her activities would provoke violent backlash. She had to learn to navigate the politics of the abolitionist movement while staying true to her calling.

The road back also involved the challenge of supporting herself financially while dedicating her life to unpaid rescue work. She took various jobs—as a cook, a nurse, a domestic worker—to fund her missions, always living on the edge of poverty despite her growing fame.

During the Civil War, her road back involved transitioning from underground operative to official military scout and spy, requiring her to work within formal military structures while maintaining her independence and effectiveness.

Resurrection

Harriet's final resurrection came during and after the Civil War, when she emerged not just as a successful Underground Railroad conductor but as a recognized military leader and social reformer. Her work with the Union Army, particularly the Combahee River Raid, proved that her methods could work on a massive scale.

The climactic test of her complete transformation came when she had to reinvent herself again after the war ended and slavery was abolished. Rather than retiring as a hero, she continued her work, focusing on women's suffrage, care for elderly formerly enslaved people, and education. She demonstrated that her heroism wasn't tied to a single cause but to a lifelong commitment to justice.

Her resurrection was also evident in how she became a living legend while still alive, with people making pilgrimages to meet her and hear her stories. She had transcended her individual identity to become an archetypal figure—the embodiment of courage, faith, and liberation.

The final proof of her resurrection was her ability to inspire others to become heroes themselves. People who met her often described being transformed by the encounter, finding courage they didn't know they possessed.

Return with the Elixir

Harriet's elixir was the proof that liberation was possible, that ordinary people could accomplish extraordinary things, and that systems of oppression, no matter how entrenched, could be overcome through courage, faith, and strategic action. She brought back the medicine of hope made manifest.

Her specific gifts to the world included:

• A practical model for resistance that combined spiritual faith with strategic planning
• Proof that marginalized people could be agents of their own liberation
• A demonstration that individual transformation could catalyze collective change
• A template for how to maintain hope and effectiveness in the face of overwhelming odds

She established the Harriet Tubman Home for Aged and Indigent Colored People in Auburn, New York, providing practical care for elderly formerly enslaved people while creating a living symbol of the community care that should replace systems of oppression.

Her elixir was also her story itself—a narrative that continues to inspire people facing their own impossible circumstances, showing them that the heroic journey is available to anyone willing to answer the call.

The Hero's Unique Medicine

Harriet's unique medicine was the integration of profound spiritual faith with practical strategic action. She demonstrated that mystical experience and political resistance could work together, that visions and careful planning were complementary rather than contradictory.

Her particular wound—the head injury she suffered as a teenager that caused lifelong seizures and visions—became her gift. What could have been a disability became the source of her supernatural guidance system. She transformed personal trauma into collective healing.

She embodied the archetype of the Wounded Healer and the Liberator, showing how someone who had experienced the deepest oppression could become the agent of freedom for others. Her background as an enslaved woman gave her credibility and understanding that no outside liberator could possess.

History needed exactly this hero at this time because she could speak to enslaved people in their own language, understand their fears and hopes, and demonstrate through her own transformation that liberation was possible. She was living proof that the system of slavery had not succeeded in breaking the human spirit.

The Ripple Effect

Harriet's immediate impact was the liberation of approximately 70 people through her Underground Railroad missions and more than 700 through the Combahee River Raid. But her ripple effects extended far beyond these numbers.

She redefined what was possible for Black women in America, showing that they could be military leaders, political activists, and social reformers. She opened pathways that other women would follow, from Sojourner Truth to Rosa Parks to contemporary civil rights leaders.

Her methods influenced the broader abolitionist movement, demonstrating the effectiveness of direct action and inspiring others to take greater risks for the cause. She showed that enslaved people themselves could be the primary agents of their liberation, challenging paternalistic approaches to abolition.

The myth she created—of the fearless conductor who never lost a passenger—became a powerful symbol that sustained the Underground Railroad and inspired countless acts of resistance. Her story became part of the cultural DNA of American resistance movements.

Key Quotes/Moments

"I had reasoned this out in my mind; there was one of two things I had a right to, liberty or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other." Her recognition of the call—the moment she chose to risk everything for freedom.

"I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything; the sun came like gold through the trees, and over the fields, and I felt like I was in Heaven." Her first moment of freedom in Pennsylvania—the threshold crossing that transformed her understanding of what was possible.

"I never ran my train off the track and I never lost a passenger." Her understanding of her mission—the confidence that came from perfect trust in her divine guidance.

"I would fight for my liberty so long as my strength lasted, and if the time came for me to go, the Lord would let them take me." Her supreme faith during moments of greatest danger—the surrender that paradoxically gave her power.

"I was the conductor of the Underground Railroad for eight years, and I can say what most conductors can't say; I never ran my train off the track and I never lost a passenger." Her final testament—the summary of a mission accomplished against impossible odds.

**"Every