I don't believe in hope. I believe in action, if I'm an apostle

The artist Kerry James Marshall, a master of depicting Black life with dignity and radiance, once said: “I don’t believe in hope. I believe in action, if I’m an apostle of anything: There are always going to be complications, but to a large degree, everything is in your hands.” These words are not the rejection of faith, but its refinement. They are the creed of one who understands that hope without movement is a hollow thing, that faith must be made flesh through labor, and that destiny bows not to those who wish, but to those who act. His message burns with the ancient fire of wisdom—that life belongs not to the dreamer who waits, but to the doer who dares.

To not believe in hope is not to live without vision, but to refuse the comfort of passivity. Hope, when it becomes mere waiting, is a subtle form of surrender. The one who says, “I hope for change,” may already be building excuses for inaction. But the one who says, “I will change what I can,” steps into the lineage of builders, warriors, and creators who have shaped the world. When Marshall says he believes in action, he speaks as an artist who forged his place not by privilege, but by perseverance. His work restores visibility to those erased from the walls of history, proving that transformation begins with the hands that pick up the brush, the pen, the tool—and refuse to put it down.

The origin of this belief is found in the struggle of creation itself. Kerry James Marshall, born in the segregated South and raised in the midst of civil rights upheaval, witnessed a world that offered little to hope for—but much to fight for. Instead of waiting for society to correct its blindness, he acted, painting stories that demanded to be seen. His canvases, vast and luminous, depict Blackness not as suffering, but as beauty and endurance. Through his work, he became an apostle of agency, proving that art itself can be an act of rebellion, a declaration that one’s existence is not contingent upon permission. His quote, then, is not only a philosophy of art, but a philosophy of life: that freedom is not bestowed—it is built.

History echoes this same truth through the deeds of the courageous. Consider Harriet Tubman, who, when asked how she found the strength to lead enslaved people to freedom, did not speak of hope, but of decision. She acted, again and again, through night and danger, trusting not in chance but in conviction. Hope may have lit the distant star of her dream, but action carved the path beneath her feet. Or think of Leonardo da Vinci, who once wrote that “action is the foundational key to all success.” The masters of every age have known that inspiration alone is barren—it must be harnessed, transformed, and made real through the steady discipline of work.

Marshall’s wisdom also acknowledges the complications of action. “There are always going to be complications,” he says—meaning that even when one acts with courage, the world will resist. Every builder meets opposition, every reformer faces doubt, every creator wrestles with failure. But to him, these are not reasons to hesitate—they are the natural conditions of greatness. The river does not cease its flow because it meets a rock; it carves its way through. To act is to accept imperfection, to embrace struggle as the cost of creation. The weak wait for a perfect moment; the strong make the imperfect moment their instrument.

In these words also lies a profound declaration of empowerment: “Everything is in your hands.” It is a call to self-mastery, to abandon the illusion that life is governed by fate or the whims of others. Though we cannot control all that happens, we can control how we respond, how we create, how we persevere. The hands—symbols of human will—are the tools through which the invisible becomes visible, the dream becomes reality. To believe this is to reclaim responsibility for one’s own life, to understand that waiting for salvation is a betrayal of one’s own strength.

Thus, the lesson of Kerry James Marshall is both simple and eternal: Do not hope—act. Hope can be a beginning, but it must never be an end. Let hope be the spark, but let action be the flame. When faced with injustice, create justice. When confronted by silence, speak. When bound by limitation, build. The future, he reminds us, is not written in prophecy, but painted by the hands of those brave enough to move.

So, my child, remember this teaching: the world is changed not by those who wish, but by those who work. The artist, the leader, the thinker—all are united by one truth: they refused to wait for permission to live fully. Take up your tools—whatever they may be—and shape the world before you. For hope alone is wind, but action is the sail that carries us toward destiny. And once you understand that “everything is in your hands,” you will no longer look to the heavens for deliverance—you will find it in your own steadfast heart.