February is Black History Month, as we all know, and one of my favorite historical figures is Frederick Douglass. His famous autobiography, “Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass...,” is a book I’ve read dozens of times, and I strongly encourage those who have not read it to do so. The book is renowned for its intimate psychological understanding of both slave and slave master, as well as its almost Franklinian sense of emerging identity and self-invention. Many literature scholars spend a lot of time describing the work as a jeremiad, an honest lament on the horrors of slavery and its ramifications on nineteenth-century American society at large.
But I have a contrarian appreciation for Douglass’s Narrative: its amazing depiction of individualism and self-directed success against unimaginable odds. For those that think the “bootstrap” ideal is pure myth and it is impossible for people to succeed if they are not granted opportunity, equality, and assistance from higher powers, Douglass’s life is the antidote to such pessimism. Douglass’s life was so awful that it was not that he lacked boots; he may as well have lacked legs. Yet his escape led him to become a close friend to an iconic president, a voice for freedom around the world, and a leader of generations to follow.
One of the many ways Douglass developed himself with nothing but his own personal initiative was in his recognition of the power of education and his steeled desire to attain it.
Douglass was born into slavery. He did not know his own mother. He did not even know his date of birth. (He eventually chose for himself mid-February, hence the reason for this post this week.) When his master forbade reading, Douglass realized literacy must be the key to life success. He writes, the master’s “argument against learning to read, only served to inspire me with a desire and determination to learn.” So he taught himself to read. Douglass writes that he learned to read by becoming friends with white children in the street and convincing them to teach him words. He also always took a book with him whenever he would run errands so that he could sneak in a lesson. He would even bribe the poor white children in the neighborhood with bread if they would teach him. By the time he was twelve, he was reading entire books about masters, slaves, and emancipation. Through his reading, he learned of the morality that lies in “the power of truth over the conscience of even a slaveholder.” He learned “a bold denunciation of slavery, and a powerful vindication of human rights.” And his thirst for knowledge could not be satiated: “the more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers.”
His new knowledge led him to help others. An early realization of this mission came in form of teaching other slaves to read, often at great peril. They usually met on Sundays at Sabbath schools—following in the long tradition of religion’s link with literacy—despite the immense risks to Douglass and the slaves: “Every moment they spent in that school, they were liable to be taken up, and given thirty-nine lashes. They came because they wished to learn.”
By itself, however, access to education is no more a foreshadowing of success than access to paintbrushes is sign of potential artistry. Placing a child in a classroom or a book in a child’s hand may provide the utility for achievement, just as handing a child a brush may induce the child to become an accomplished painter. But books and brushes are simply tools. One must have the willingness to use the tools and the diligence to apply them appropriately in order to attain the maximum benefit from them. And this willingness comes from either an outside force, as a parent demands a child to do homework, or from within the mind and soul of someone determined to prevail. We know Douglass had surrounding forces working vigorously against his education, so his success was only fulfilled through his own aspirations and effort. This individualistic power is a fundamental element of human capital that must not be ignored. The ability to choose to succeed in spite of dire circumstances is the most valuable resource humans possess; and Douglass used his will to remarkable ends.
The life of Frederick Douglass provides one of the more remarkable stories in all of American history, a journey from abject slavery to worldwide fame and political influence that is the stuff of American national myth. But his ultimate achievements—a friendship with President Lincoln, a career as a speaker and journalist, serving as a symbol to millions of desperate blacks in America and abroad—all began with the smallest of steps. And while Douglass’s environment affected his path in and out of slavery, for better and for worse, each of those steps had to be taken by one man with purposeful intent. It is this action, this constant aim to better ourselves, that distinguishes us as humans, and separates the life of Frederick Douglass from that of so many others of his time. Douglass’s life exemplifies the struggle of the individual and the accumulation of personal characteristics that assist in shaping a future result.
Frederick Douglass’s Narrative exposes the difficulty in condemning individualism, while simultaneously holding high regard for Douglass. As he has shown, even the evils of slavery do not guarantee a life of oppression. The common notion that not everyone can pull themselves up by the bootstraps is countered by the achievements of Douglass’s life journey. His circumstances were so dire that the very idea of his triumph would border on the absurd if it were not so powerfully true. Douglass’s endurance and passion led to investment in himself that took him places where freedom endured, opportunity shone, and success blossomed. His diligence, under the worst conditions, eventually landed him remarkable personal power, a power that helped to free millions from bondage. His will to take control of his own life led to the freedom of others. Examining his life story through an individualism-inspired methodology allows us to draw text away from the theoretical and towards the practical. And from this critical perspective, Douglass’s Narrative should be an inspiration to those both with boots and without.
But I have a contrarian appreciation for Douglass’s Narrative: its amazing depiction of individualism and self-directed success against unimaginable odds. For those that think the “bootstrap” ideal is pure myth and it is impossible for people to succeed if they are not granted opportunity, equality, and assistance from higher powers, Douglass’s life is the antidote to such pessimism. Douglass’s life was so awful that it was not that he lacked boots; he may as well have lacked legs. Yet his escape led him to become a close friend to an iconic president, a voice for freedom around the world, and a leader of generations to follow.
One of the many ways Douglass developed himself with nothing but his own personal initiative was in his recognition of the power of education and his steeled desire to attain it.
Douglass was born into slavery. He did not know his own mother. He did not even know his date of birth. (He eventually chose for himself mid-February, hence the reason for this post this week.) When his master forbade reading, Douglass realized literacy must be the key to life success. He writes, the master’s “argument against learning to read, only served to inspire me with a desire and determination to learn.” So he taught himself to read. Douglass writes that he learned to read by becoming friends with white children in the street and convincing them to teach him words. He also always took a book with him whenever he would run errands so that he could sneak in a lesson. He would even bribe the poor white children in the neighborhood with bread if they would teach him. By the time he was twelve, he was reading entire books about masters, slaves, and emancipation. Through his reading, he learned of the morality that lies in “the power of truth over the conscience of even a slaveholder.” He learned “a bold denunciation of slavery, and a powerful vindication of human rights.” And his thirst for knowledge could not be satiated: “the more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers.”
His new knowledge led him to help others. An early realization of this mission came in form of teaching other slaves to read, often at great peril. They usually met on Sundays at Sabbath schools—following in the long tradition of religion’s link with literacy—despite the immense risks to Douglass and the slaves: “Every moment they spent in that school, they were liable to be taken up, and given thirty-nine lashes. They came because they wished to learn.”
By itself, however, access to education is no more a foreshadowing of success than access to paintbrushes is sign of potential artistry. Placing a child in a classroom or a book in a child’s hand may provide the utility for achievement, just as handing a child a brush may induce the child to become an accomplished painter. But books and brushes are simply tools. One must have the willingness to use the tools and the diligence to apply them appropriately in order to attain the maximum benefit from them. And this willingness comes from either an outside force, as a parent demands a child to do homework, or from within the mind and soul of someone determined to prevail. We know Douglass had surrounding forces working vigorously against his education, so his success was only fulfilled through his own aspirations and effort. This individualistic power is a fundamental element of human capital that must not be ignored. The ability to choose to succeed in spite of dire circumstances is the most valuable resource humans possess; and Douglass used his will to remarkable ends.
The life of Frederick Douglass provides one of the more remarkable stories in all of American history, a journey from abject slavery to worldwide fame and political influence that is the stuff of American national myth. But his ultimate achievements—a friendship with President Lincoln, a career as a speaker and journalist, serving as a symbol to millions of desperate blacks in America and abroad—all began with the smallest of steps. And while Douglass’s environment affected his path in and out of slavery, for better and for worse, each of those steps had to be taken by one man with purposeful intent. It is this action, this constant aim to better ourselves, that distinguishes us as humans, and separates the life of Frederick Douglass from that of so many others of his time. Douglass’s life exemplifies the struggle of the individual and the accumulation of personal characteristics that assist in shaping a future result.
Frederick Douglass’s Narrative exposes the difficulty in condemning individualism, while simultaneously holding high regard for Douglass. As he has shown, even the evils of slavery do not guarantee a life of oppression. The common notion that not everyone can pull themselves up by the bootstraps is countered by the achievements of Douglass’s life journey. His circumstances were so dire that the very idea of his triumph would border on the absurd if it were not so powerfully true. Douglass’s endurance and passion led to investment in himself that took him places where freedom endured, opportunity shone, and success blossomed. His diligence, under the worst conditions, eventually landed him remarkable personal power, a power that helped to free millions from bondage. His will to take control of his own life led to the freedom of others. Examining his life story through an individualism-inspired methodology allows us to draw text away from the theoretical and towards the practical. And from this critical perspective, Douglass’s Narrative should be an inspiration to those both with boots and without.