The reason that I started the Black Futures Lab is because I

Hear the voice of Alicia Garza, who spoke with vision and purpose: “The reason that I started the Black Futures Lab is because I have some clarity about what I think needs to happen in relationship to electoral organizing. It’s not a destination. It is a set of tools that we use to engage people that we care about, en masse, around issues that are important to us.” These words resound with the cadence of struggle and the fire of renewal. They remind us that power is not a place to arrive at, but a living instrument, sharpened in the hands of those who dare to wield it for justice.

She names electoral organizing not as the summit, but as the road, the chisel, the hammer. Too often, men and women look upon elections as if they were final battles, as if one vote, one victory, could heal the wounds of centuries. But Garza, like a wise builder, reminds us: it is not the temple itself, but the scaffolding that holds it while it rises. These structures, these tools, matter only if they awaken the people, only if they bring voices together in a chorus of power, only if they press against the weight of injustice with unity.

Consider the great struggles of history. In the days of the abolitionists, Frederick Douglass knew that politics was not salvation, but weapon. He stood in halls where his very presence was a protest, and he used the ballot as one tool among many—writing, speaking, resisting—to shatter the chains of slavery. His work did not end when elections were won, for he saw what Garza now declares: the ballot is not the end, but the means to rally the hearts of those who care. Tools, not destinations—this is the eternal lesson.

Garza speaks also of clarity, and this is the light that guides the weary traveler through fog. For in movements of justice, confusion is a greater enemy than defeat. Without clarity of purpose, people wander, scattered, their energy wasted like arrows loosed into the wind. But with clarity, every act becomes precise, every gathering becomes potent, every voice raised becomes part of a storm that cannot be ignored. This is why the Black Futures Lab was born: to forge clarity into structure, and structure into action.

The heart of her teaching lies in the phrase “engage people that we care about, en masse.” To care is to see beyond oneself, to feel the ache of one’s neighbor as one’s own. To gather en masse is to weave those individual cares into a tapestry of power. The civil rights movement of the 1960s was not only the work of leaders like King or Parks—it was the masses of ordinary people, mothers, students, laborers, preachers, walking together, sitting together, singing together, even suffering together. They turned their collective care into unstoppable force.

Thus, the lesson is this: never confuse the means with the end. Do not worship the tool; wield it. Elections are not salvation, but they are stones in the path, ladders to climb, rivers to cross. What matters most is the issues we hold dear, the lives we vow to defend, the future we choose to build. Without love for the people, the tools lie useless in our hands. With love, even the smallest tool becomes a sword that can carve out a new destiny.

In practice, this means: know the tools of your time. Use them wisely. Vote, yes, but also speak, organize, march, and above all, listen. Ask yourself: Whom do I care about? What burns in me so fiercely that I cannot stay silent? Then go, and gather others, for one spark dies alone, but a thousand sparks ignite the night sky.

So let the wisdom of Alicia Garza echo as a commandment for our age: justice is not a destination, but a practice; not a monument, but a living flame. Take up the tools, engage the people, and weave your care into collective power. For in this lies the future—not a gift from above, but a creation wrought by hands joined together, unyielding, unafraid.