Rooted in Resistance and Quietly Changing the World
Almost everyone I speak with is in agony over the state of our nation and society in this moment. We are living through times of cruelty, inhumanity, uncertainty, and political chaos, instilling fear for the literal safety of our loved ones, neighbors, and selves.
We are all seeking different coping and activation mechanisms, from selectively tuning out the noise to hitting the streets.
Many of us wonder: should we be fortunate enough to make it through to the “other side,” what kind of world, society, sisterhood, community will we build? And what tools and mindsets do we need to do that rebuilding?
The purpose of the #SistoryLessons newsletter reflects the longstanding goal of Brave Sis Project: to utilize the lessons from Foremothers who led the way as encouragement and guide for our times.
Before we jump in...
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What Grace Lee Boggs and Septima Clark Can Teach Us About World-Changing
These towering ancestors have a clear message for us today. We can endure, resist, and build something better. Not just in defiance of and resistance to the present moment, but because of our fierce dedication to the future. I know so many adults starting out on their path, and have seen many friends or their now-grown kids welcoming new babies into our community. For them, and us, we have to give it our all!
So, for this first installment of #SistoryLessons, let’s meet two women from my Our Brave Foremothers book, Grace Lee Boggs and Septima Poinsette Clark, and invite in a newcomer to our midst, Carrie Steele Logan, for some wisdom.
Grace Lee Boggs: Liberation is a Long Game
Grace Lee Boggs was a philosopher-activist who spent over 70 years organizing in Detroit. In a world where we regularly seek immediate gratification, Grace models "slow" revolution. She encouraged folks to do three things: 1) think deeply, 2) act locally, and 3) cultivate radical imagination.
For Grace (and Yuri as well!), transformation went beyond policy change (though she knew this was essential); she advocated for change that was personal, communal, and cultural. As she knew, several facets of life can operate at the same time.
If she were with us today, I bet she’d tell us now to gather in living rooms, transform our neighborhoods, and root ourselves in hope—not as sentiment, but as strategy.
Grace might say... Don’t burn out trying to “fix” everything overnight. Start where you are, and build something lasting.
Reflection: What would it mean to become a steward of transformation, and not simply protest?
Septima Poinsette Clark: Liberation Through Learning
I love the story of Septima Poinsette Clark. This amazing change-agent from Charleston, SC, a city I know well, and where my mother and “my people” were born, knew the power of a pen. Born a hundred years before my oldest daughter, in 1898, she understood that illiteracy was a weapon of white supremacy—and that education was a tool of resistance.
Through her Citizenship Schools, Septima trained thousands of civil rights workers in reading, writing, and organizing. If you don’t know about the Citizenship Schools, read to the bottom of this newsletter. She understood something today’s community-builders also know: it’s not just reading, ‘riting, and ‘rithmitic: education is a wraparound ecosystem of life skills. I would add financial literacy and media literacy to this list!
So here we are today, where voter suppression against Black and Brown communities has been weaponized and codified into normalized practice. Where SCOTUS agreed with the vile plan to gut our national Department of Education, good Lord!
From Septima, we must remember that education is empowerment. Knowing your rights and your history (our collective rights and history) is more essential now than ever.
Septima's legacy can help us all better appreciate the power of knowledge and teaching others, especially when it is challenging to do so. (Think about that vexing relative, acquaintance, or colleague...) She compels us to remember there's so much we can gain when we come together for the common good!
The last time I was in Charleston, I looked for the house where Septima was born. For half an hour, I walked up and down the street, in oppressive, humid heat, possibly alarming the neighbors as I paced and peered. To my disappointment, I learned the house where she was born had long been torn down.
I walked away, quite dejected, seeking solace from an ice-cold “Yankee tea” (no sugar). Why is it that her house was torn down (there is a marker elsewhere in the neighborhood, as well as a commuter parkway that bears her name, though I bet most drivers don’t think about who it’s named after), and so many lesser white men who perpetrated harm and discrimination have entire parks, statues, highways, and mansions dedicated to their so-called legacy?
The Septima Clark Parkway in Charleston, SC
No need to answer, just think about it!
Septima DID say... “I believe unconditionally in the ability of people to respond when they are told the truth.”
Reflection: What knowledge can you pass on, to strengthen the fight?
Carrie Steele Logan: Creating Safe Havens
Now let’s meet Carrie Steele Logan, a Foremother who was not included in my book, but whose story is worth celebrating!
Born into slavery, Carrie Steele Logan knew what it meant to survive horrific circumstances. But she was more than just a survivor; Carrie was a builder. In post-Reconstruction Georgia, she founded the first orphanage for Black children in Atlanta.
I caution against the use of words like "whites" or "Blacks" as nouns; it's very outdated and low-key slur vibes, but hey, this obituary was from 1900...
Thank you, Carrie. We are living in a world where Black and Brown lives are systemically threatened, and even the more “protected” or fortunate among us still do not feel that “we matter.” Worse still, in a country where migrant people are criminalized, where reproductive rights, food, and safety are all diminished, and where state-sanctioned, vigilante, and random violence of all kinds are on the rise, it is just so bleak!
And yet, perhaps we can draw some resolve and faith in thinking about Carrie’s legacy: She reminds us how important it is to create sanctuary. Whether through mutual aid, mentorship, or simple acts of humankindness, let’s choose to offer safe harbor to another who needs it.
Carrie might say... Care is resistance.
Reflection: Who else models this level of selflessness, especially someone who has faced and overcome adversity?
Reflection and Action: Journal Prompts for Everyone
Thinking aboutGrace Lee Boggs: How do you reimagine your community? Consider writing about a change you’d like to see where you live.
Thinking about Septima Clark: How does education empower communities to demand change? Is there a time when learning something new changed your perspective or actions that you'd like to reflect upon?
Thinking aboutCarrie Steele Logan: Who do you show up for, especially when the larger world does not? Why?
HerStory / OurStory: Journal Prompts for Women of Color
Thinking about Grace Lee Boggs: Where are you growing your power—not for visibility, but for legacy? Is there a form of local activism that is calling your name?
Thinking about Septima Clark: Is there a story of educational resilience in your family or community that you wish to share?
Thinking about Carrie Steele Logan: What kind of caring story are you building for your legacy?
Activated Allies: Prompts and Actions for White Friends
Acting on behalf ofGrace Lee Boggs: Study her vision of revolution rooted in relationship. What would it mean to cultivate change? Consider reading about Grace and discussing her legacy with others who are less aware of world-changing APPI women.
Acting on behalf of Septima Clark: Highlight the educators who shaped the civil rights movement, not just the “headliners.” Consider supporting, volunteering with, or amplifying the mission of adult literacy or citizenship education programs led by BIPOC organizations.
Acting on behalf of Carrie Steele Logan: Consider donating to or volunteering at BIPOC-led foster and child support organizations. I recently came across a list from the Anti-Racist & Equity-Minded Nonprofit called Deconstructing The Mental Health System.
Grace Lee Boggs was born Grace Chin Lee on June 27, 1915, in Providence, Rhode Island, to Chinese immigrant parents. Her father owned a Chinese restaurant, and the family later moved to a predominantly white neighborhood in Queens, New York. The young girl's upbringing meant navigating the complexities of being Chinese American in a country that often saw her as a perpetual "other."
Despite facing racism and isolation in her childhood, Grace was a brilliant student. She graduated from Barnard College in 1935, and earned her Ph.D. in philosophy from Bryn Mawr College in 1940. This was an extraordinary achievement for a woman of color at that time, let alone a first-generation Chinese American woman.
Unfortunately, despite her academic accomplishments, Grace faced barriers to employment due to racism and sexism alike. Ph.D. notwithstanding, she could obtain no better job than a low-paying admin role in the University of Chicago's philosophy library. It was there that she began to connect to the struggles of the city's South Side Black community. She became politicized, reading Marx and participating in tenants’ rights and housing advocacy activities.
Grace's lifelong activism was fueled by her intellectual hunger for understanding systems of oppression and transformation, and her deep empathy and solidarity with Black liberation movements.
In 1953, she moved and fully immersed herself in the intersection of ideas and action, identity and solidarity—alongside her husband and comrade, James Boggs, a Black auto worker and radical.
James and Grace had an immediate connection, not just personally, but intellectually and politically. They decided to wed after their very first date and were together for over 40 years, until James' death in 1993. In her later years, Grace advocated for neighborhood gardening and other acts that built stronger communities. She passed away on October 5, 2015, at 100 years old.
Grace dedicated her life to organizing and helping reimagine what revolution could look like—not just for the nation, not just for the community, but for the human spirit.
Septima Poinsette Clark was a quiet revolutionary whose life’s work helped lay the foundation for the Civil Rights movement. Born on May 3, 1898, in Charleston, South Carolina, she embarked on a life journey rooted in education, justice, and the unshakeable belief that literacy = liberation.
Septima was born into a profoundly racially segregated world. Her mother, Victoria Anderson Poinsette, was fiercely protective, wary of white institutions. Her father, Peter Poinsette, worked as a caterer, having been enslaved as a child and young man.
Despite limited financial resources, the Poinsettes prioritized education—a value that shaped Septima’s life.
Segregation hindered this highly intelligent woman's access to educational opportunity, but she was able to attend Avery Normal Institute, a private school for African American students. Later, she earned her teaching certificate and became an instructor at rural schools on Johns Island, South Carolina. She then went on to earn a bachelor’s from Benedict College and a master’s from Hampton Institute (now Hampton University)—all while working full time.
Clark’s activism began when she realized how systemic illiteracy was being used to suppress Black political power. In South Carolina and much of the South, Black citizens had to pass literacy tests to vote. Septima knew this was not only unjust—it was intentional.
These tests often involved unanswerable questions such as "how high is up?"—a stark reminder that in the US, disenfranchisement is no new offense. Further, back in those days, you could not be an educator if you were a member of the NAACP. Septima wasn't willing to give up her membership, so she was fired from her teaching post in Charleston in 1956. Along with losing her job, she lost her sizeable pension.
Undaunted, she moved to Tennessee, where, at the Highlander Folk School, she developed and led the Citizenship School program. These schools weren’t just about providing literacy to the formerly enslaved and their descendants; they taught adults how to fill out voter registration forms, understand their rights, and organize their communities. The program helped train tens of thousands of grassroots leaders, including many future foot soldiers of the Civil Rights movement. One of those alumnae you may have heard of: Rosa Parks.
Septima's methods were so effective that Martin Luther King Jr. later incorporated Citizenship Schools into the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). He called Septima “the mother of the movement.”
Septima Clark continued her work into her 80s. She wrote two autobiographies:
She also fought for Black women’s rights, elder rights, and intergenerational leadership. In 1979, at age 81, she became the first Black woman elected to the Charleston School Board, reclaiming the very institution that once cast her out.
Septima Clark passed away on December 15, 1987, but her legacy lives in every literacy initiative, every voting rights effort, and every classroom that sees education as a form of freedom.
In times like ours—where voter suppression is rising, public education is under attack, and truth itself is politicized—Clark’s life calls us back to the basics: Empower people with knowledge, and you empower them to change the world.
Carrie Steele Logan was a visionary caregiver and institution builder whose life speaks to the power of compassion as a revolutionary force. Born into slavery in Georgia around 1829, she endured the trauma of bondage—and yet, after emancipation, she leveraged her freedom to create safety and dignity for the most vulnerable: orphaned Black children.
Very little is known about Carrie Steele’s early life—like many Black women born into slavery, her birthdate and exact birthplace are uncertain, and her early years were not formally recorded. But what we do know is that after emancipation, she moved to Atlanta, Georgia, and began working at the Union Station railroad depot as a maid.
While working there, she was deeply affected by the number of abandoned and homeless Black children in the post–Civil War South—many of them left orphaned by slavery, poverty, disease, and the extreme racial violence of the Reconstruction era.
Steele started taking in these children, sheltering them and providing care in the depot’s waiting rooms while she continued working her job. She knew these children needed more than temporary shelter, though—they needed a home. So Carrie began raising money, within the Black community and beyond. Her fundraising methods included writing a book about her life story. Eventually, she was able to purchase a large plot of land and a house.
In 1888, she officially founded the Carrie Steele Orphan Home (now known as Carrie Steele-Pitts Home) in Atlanta—the first orphanage for African American children in the city. This was a game-changer for the community, for at that time, most orphanages would not accept Black children at all.
The Orphan House provided food, shelter, education, and love at a time when few institutions cared whether Black children lived or died. This was radical care in action.
Carrie eventually married a man named Josehia Logan, appending his last name to hers. She passed away in 1900, but the Carrie Steele-Pitts Home still lives on, supporting foster children and youth aging out of foster care, and providing transitional services such as housing, education, and job training.
These women didn’t wait for permission to lead. They didn’t ask for ideal circumstances. They looked at broken systems, and they jumped in and created alternatives.
In this time, when cruelty is policy and societal division is rampant, we can’t afford to lose heart, and we needn't suffer alone. Grace, Septima, and Carrie worked in community, building institutions, relationships—and legacies.
We too can try.
Stay rooted. Keep learning. Continue building. Don’t give up. The future is counting on us. See you next time!