The Remarkable Persistence of Harriet Tubman

Born into slavery around 1822 in Dorchester County, Maryland, Harriet Tubman entered a world designed to break her spirit and deny her humanity. Originally named Araminta "Minty" Ross, she endured the brutal realities of enslavement from her earliest days. As a child, she was frequently hired out to other enslavers, separated from her family and subjected to harsh treatment. In one particularly horrific incident during her adolescence, she suffered a severe head injury when an overseer threw a heavy metal weight at another enslaved person but struck Tubman instead. This traumatic brain injury would cause her to experience seizures, headaches, and vivid dreams throughout her life. Yet rather than diminishing her resolve, these early hardships seemed to forge in her an unbreakable determination. The persistent courage that would later define her legendary accomplishments was evident even in these formative years, as she resisted the dehumanizing system at every turn, refusing to internalize the limitations it sought to impose on her.

Tubman's first attempt to escape slavery came in 1849, a decision catalyzed by fears that she and others would be sold following the death of her enslaver. Along with two of her brothers, she fled the plantation, but when her brothers became fearful and turned back, Tubman made the agonizing choice to continue alone. Guided by the North Star and assisted by the Underground Railroad network, she navigated approximately 90 miles to Philadelphia and freedom. Upon crossing into the free state of Pennsylvania, Tubman later recalled experiencing an overwhelming sense of transformation: "When I found I had crossed that line, 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." This moment of liberation, rather than representing the end of her struggle, marked the beginning of her extraordinary mission. With characteristic persistence, she immediately began planning how to extend this freedom to others.

Despite having secured her own freedom, Tubman could not remain comfortably in the North while her family and friends remained enslaved. In 1850, after saving money from domestic work, she returned to Maryland on the first of what would become approximately 13 rescue missions spanning a decade. The passage of the Fugitive Slave Act that same year dramatically increased the danger of her work, as it required citizens in free states to assist in capturing escaped slaves and imposed harsh penalties on those who aided runaways. Undeterred by these heightened risks, Tubman adapted her tactics, taking more elaborate precautions and extending her routes further north, eventually leading people all the way to Canada to ensure their safety. Her persistence in the face of escalating dangers revealed an extraordinary commitment to the liberation of others. "I was free," she later explained, "but there was no one to welcome me to the land of freedom. I was a stranger in a strange land; and my home, after all, was down in Maryland."

Tubman's effectiveness as a conductor on the Underground Railroad stemmed from her remarkable combination of courage, resourcefulness, and unwavering focus. She typically conducted rescue operations during winter months when nights were longer, traveling primarily after dark and resting in hiding during daylight hours. To prevent detection, she employed numerous tactics: using disguises, creating diversions, and carrying paregoric to quiet crying babies. She was known to carry a pistol, both for protection and to prevent anyone from turning back and endangering the entire group. When asked about this practice, she explained with characteristic directness: "I had a right to liberty or death. If I could not have one, I would have the other, for no man should take me alive." This persistent vigilance and willingness to face danger head-on resulted in an extraordinary record—Tubman never lost a single passenger on her Underground Railroad journeys, a testament to her exceptional leadership and strategic thinking.

The cognitive and spiritual dimensions of Tubman's persistence were as remarkable as her physical courage. Despite being unable to read or write due to laws prohibiting literacy among enslaved people, she developed extraordinary navigation skills, memorizing complex routes and identifying safe houses across hundreds of miles. Her head injury, rather than being solely a disability, became integrated into her spiritual understanding of her mission. The vivid dreams and visions she experienced were interpreted as divine guidance, reinforcing her conviction that God had appointed her to the work of liberation. This spiritual framework gave her persistence a transcendent quality; each successful rescue validated her belief in divine protection. "I always told God," she said, "I'm going to hold steady on to you, and you've got to see me through." This integration of practical skill with spiritual conviction created a powerful foundation for her relentless pursuit of freedom for others.

The scope of Tubman's accomplishments as a conductor on the Underground Railroad remains astounding. Over approximately ten years, she personally led about 70 people to freedom, including her elderly parents, several siblings, and numerous friends. Additionally, she provided instructions that helped approximately 70 more people escape on their own. These missions required her to return repeatedly to Maryland—the very state from which she had fled—facing not only the risk of re-enslavement but also increasing bounties on her head. By the late 1850s, rewards for her capture reportedly reached $40,000 (equivalent to over $1 million today), yet she persisted in her dangerous work. When warned of these dangers, Tubman reportedly responded, "I can't die but once." This matter-of-fact acceptance of risk exemplified her persistent prioritization of collective liberation over personal safety. As her reputation grew, enslavers came to fear the mysterious "Moses" without realizing this formidable opponent was a five-foot-tall Black woman.

When the Civil War erupted in 1861, Tubman immediately recognized its potential to advance the cause of freedom on a scale far beyond what individual rescue missions could achieve. She volunteered for the Union Army, initially serving as a cook and nurse but soon taking on roles as a scout and spy due to her unparalleled knowledge of terrain and covert operation tactics. In 1863, she became the first woman to lead an armed expedition in the war when she guided Colonel James Montgomery and his troops along the Combahee River in South Carolina. Using intelligence she had gathered about Confederate positions and hidden torpedoes in the river, the raid destroyed valuable enemy supplies and freed approximately 750 enslaved people. Many of these newly liberated individuals immediately joined the Union Army, demonstrating how Tubman's persistent pursuit of freedom directly strengthened the Union cause. Her transition from Underground Railroad conductor to military intelligence operative represented not a change in mission but an expansion of tactics.

Tubman's persistence expressed itself not only in dramatic rescues but also in the daily work of sustaining communities. During and after the Civil War, she established herself at Union camps, creating systems to help the formerly enslaved transition to freedom. She taught women skills to support themselves and their families, from cooking and nursing to simple agricultural techniques. Working with the limited resources available, she organized makeshift schools where rudimentary education could begin for those long denied literacy. These efforts reflected her understanding that liberation required not just escape from bondage but the building of self-sufficient communities. Her persistent attention to these practical needs alongside her more celebrated exploits demonstrated her comprehensive vision of freedom. While military leaders acknowledged her contributions to specific campaigns, this community-building work often went unrecognized despite its critical importance to the long-term success of emancipation.

Following the Civil War, Tubman settled in Auburn, New York, where she had purchased a small property with the help of Senator William H. Seward. Her home became a haven for relatives, friends, and others in need. Despite her own limited resources, she persistently shared what she had, creating an informal welfare system for the vulnerable within her community. In 1896, already in her seventies, she established the Harriet Tubman Home for Aged and Indigent Colored People, demonstrating her continued commitment to caring for the marginalized. This extension of her liberation work into elder care reflected her understanding that freedom remained incomplete without dignity and support throughout life's journey. Despite suffering from the long-term effects of her head injury and the physical toll of her extraordinary exertions during her Underground Railroad and Civil War service, Tubman maintained an active role in this charitable work well into her final years.

The financial struggles that plagued Tubman throughout her life highlight another dimension of her remarkable persistence. Despite her extraordinary service to the Union during the Civil War, she had to fight for decades to receive a pension. Initially granted only $8 monthly as the widow of her second husband (a Civil War veteran), she and her supporters petitioned persistently for recognition of her own military service. Finally, in 1899, her pension was increased to $20 monthly for her personal war contributions. Throughout these financial hardships, she devised various means of support, from selling homemade pies and root beer to publishing her biography with Sarah Bradford in 1869 (though she received little of the proceeds). When asked how she survived these difficulties, she responded with characteristic resilience: "I've heard 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' read, and I tell you Mrs. Stowe's pen hasn't begun to paint what slavery is as I have seen it at the far South. I've seen the real thing, and I don't want to see any more."

Tubman's persistent activism extended well beyond abolitionism into women's suffrage and other social reforms. Despite her own illiteracy, she recognized the power of the vote and became a compelling voice in the women's rights movement, working alongside activists like Susan B. Anthony and attending suffrage conventions. When asked why she supported women's voting rights, she pointed to her life of hard labor and achievement, stating, "I've been with women who had the vote, and helped them get it, and I've been with the women who haven't it, and helped them get it; and I've been in hospitals for four years with good authorities, and I've helped put down rebellions in my small way, and I don't know anything more that I could have done had I been a man." This persistence in fighting for full citizenship rights demonstrated her understanding that liberation required not just physical freedom but political representation and social equality.

The religious faith that sustained Tubman's persistence has often been oversimplified in popular accounts. Her spirituality was neither passive nor merely comforting; it was dynamic and actionable. Raised in the African Methodist Episcopal tradition, she combined Christian theology with African spiritual practices preserved through enslaved communities. Her vivid dreams and visions—likely influenced by her traumatic brain injury—were interpreted through this religious framework, providing both guidance and validation for her dangerous missions. "I always told God," she explained, "I'm going to hold steady on you, and you've got to see me through." This spiritual conviction enabled her to persist through failures, betrayals, and near-captures. When frightened fugitives wanted to turn back, she would sing spirituals as coded messages, both to communicate practical instructions and to reinvigorate their courage through shared faith. This integration of spirituality with strategic action became a defining characteristic of her leadership style.

Despite her extraordinary accomplishments, Tubman faced persistent marginalization even among abolitionists and reformers, many of whom brought class, racial, and gender biases to their activism. While Frederick Douglass and William Lloyd Garrison celebrated her achievements, her methods were sometimes criticized by those who preferred political persuasion to direct action. Within women's suffrage movements, she encountered racial prejudice from white activists who prioritized white women's voting rights over universal suffrage. Despite these disappointments, Tubman maintained working relationships across these divides, recognizing that the causes of abolition, women's rights, and economic justice required broad coalitions. Her persistence in these challenging organizational contexts demonstrated remarkable political sophistication. As she aged, younger activists sought her counsel, seeing in her life a model for long-term commitment to justice beyond any single campaign or legislative victory.

The physical toll of Tubman's extraordinary life manifested in persistent health challenges that would have immobilized less determined individuals. Beyond the seizures, headaches, and narcolepsy resulting from her early head injury, she suffered from pneumonia, extreme exhaustion, and eventually tuberculosis. In 1898, she underwent brain surgery to alleviate some of her seizure symptoms, refusing anesthesia during the operation and instead biting down on a bullet—a practice she had observed among wounded soldiers during the Civil War. Despite these medical interventions, her health remained fragile. These physical limitations made her achievements all the more remarkable, as she conducted exhausting rescue missions and military expeditions while managing chronic pain and neurological symptoms. Her body bore witness to the brutal reality of slavery and the physical cost of resistance, yet she persisted in her work well into old age, refusing to allow physical limitations to define her capabilities.

The final years of Tubman's life were marked by quiet dignity and continued service despite increasing frailty. She devoted much of her energy to the Home for the Aged she had established, often taking on nursing duties herself despite her own advanced age. When asked about her remarkable life, she maintained her characteristic humility, stating, "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." She remained engaged with current events, following developments in racial justice movements and maintaining correspondence with activists and former allies until her final illness. On March 10, 1913, surrounded by friends and family, she died of pneumonia at approximately 91 years of age. Her last words reportedly revealed the persistent faith that had guided her extraordinary journey: "I go to prepare a place for you."

Tubman's remarkable persistence transcended her lifetime through her enduring influence on subsequent liberation movements. Civil rights activists of the 20th century frequently invoked her example, drawing inspiration from her combination of moral clarity, tactical innovation, and unyielding determination. During the Civil Rights Movement, organizers from the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) created the Harriet Tubman Freedom House in Atlanta as an organizing center. Her legacy inspired direct action approaches to social change, validating the moral authority of breaking unjust laws to serve higher principles of human dignity. Black feminists particularly embraced her model of leadership that centered practical problem-solving over theoretical abstractions. As historian Catherine Clinton observed, "She embodies the hopes of millions that in America one can resist evil and triumph." This persistent resonance of her example across generations demonstrates how thoroughly her life transcended the limitations of her era.

The historical record of Tubman's achievements, while substantial, remains incomplete due to the necessary secrecy surrounding much of her work and the systematic devaluation of Black women's contributions in American historiography. Many details of her Underground Railroad operations went deliberately undocumented to protect the network and its participants. As a woman who could neither read nor write, she left no personal journals or correspondence, making her dependent on others to record her story. Early biographical accounts, while valuable, were filtered through white intermediaries who sometimes emphasized certain aspects of her character while minimizing others. Despite these historical challenges, primary source evidence of her extraordinary impact persists in military records, pension applications, contemporary newspaper accounts, and the oral histories of families she helped liberate. The very incompleteness of her historical record speaks to the persistent structural barriers she faced—barriers she nevertheless overcame to permanently alter the course of American history.

The ultimate testament to Tubman's persistence may be her transformation in American cultural memory from an obscure historical figure to a national icon. For decades after her death, her story was preserved primarily within Black communities through church histories, commemorative events, and family narratives passed through generations. During the Civil Rights Movement, activists deliberately elevated her legacy as inspiration for their own resistance strategies. Scholarly reconsideration of her life began in earnest in the 1970s, coinciding with the emergence of Black women's history as an academic field. By the early 21st century, her image had been incorporated into public monuments, her name attached to schools and institutions, and her story integrated into national educational curricula. The 2016 announcement that her image would eventually replace Andrew Jackson on the U.S. twenty-dollar bill represented a remarkable symbolic reversal—from enslaved person denied personhood under American law to national representative on currency. This gradual but persistent ascent in public recognition reflects both the undeniable power of her example and the ongoing struggle to fully incorporate Black women's leadership into American historical narratives.