How The Garvey Blueprint Started

Confrontation

The air conditioner hummed as I stacked copies of My Name Is Marcus on the table, then sat in one of the chairs reserved for the audience and waited for the first guests to arrive. As I fidgeted in my seat, a man approached me and asked what the event was about. I told him it was the launch of my new book. I handed him my card. He looked at it, turned it over twice, and said: “What do you know about Marcus Garvey?” I rattled off a few dates from memory that silenced him. But I knew this would not be the last time. Nor was it the first. The man’s question was not curiosity. It was a checkpoint. Who gave you permission? That is the lie in its internal form. The war on Black imagination does not only come from outside. We carry it in and turn it on each other. The empire does not need to be in the room. We run the program ourselves. Every generation inherits the lie in the form that its time demands. In 1452 it came as papal authority. In Garvey’s time it came as laws, as prisons, as perpetual harassment. In that room in Miramar City Hall it came as a question from a man who did not know he was asking it on behalf of five hundred years of a program designed to make us doubt ourselves and each other. In my own poems I ask the form the lie takes now. In a time of climate change, do Black and brown lives in the Global South matter? The empires have changed their instruments. The verdict remains the same. The question is coming for you too. It may not sound like “What do you know about Marcus Garvey?” It will sound like whatever your generation’s checkpoint sounds like. But it is the same program. How will you answer it? Next week we talk about reorientation — the work of learning and unlearning. Walk good. This Substack funds The Garvey Classroom — curriculum, courses, and free daily teaching for students, parents. Free subscribers receive the writing. Paid subscribers fund the work. Get full access to The Garvey Classroom at geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe [https://geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

Awakening

There is a day in Black childhood when the world stops pretending. For Marcus Garvey, the day came at fourteen. He and the girl next door had played in the same yard for as long as either of them could remember. Then her parents drew the color line. They put her on a ship to Edinburgh and told her she was never to write to him again, because he was Black (Garvey). That was the whole reason. The girl was Joyce Rerrie (“Look for Me in the Whirlwind”). He had led their games. The other children had looked up to him. Until that summer, he had not known he was supposed to be less than anyone. “It was then that I found for the first time that there was some difference in humanity” (Garvey). The line had been running through that yard the whole time. He had only now been shown it. That is the awakening, the first of the eight stages, and nothing else moves until it lands. The world hands you a name and steps back to watch. What you do with the name is the rest of your life. There are three things you can do. You can believe it. You can take the weight they handed you, and let it sit in you and turn. Baldwin knew the temperature of this one: “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a state of rage almost all of the time.” The rage is accurate. They installed it in you. But rage with nowhere to go turns and feeds on the one carrying it, and you become the proof they were waiting for. You can hide from it. You can spend your one life trying to outrun the name, filing your “accent” down, and learning the manners of the house that locked you out, until you reach the door wearing a face the house agrees to tolerate. Fanon gave a whole book to the men who chose this and called it Black Skin, White Masks. The title is the entire diagnosis. A man wears another man’s face over his own long enough that he forgets which one he was born with. The house may let him in. It never lets him forget what it charged at the door. Somewhere in the trade, the authentic life ends, quietly, with no one to mark the date. Or you can refuse it. This was Garvey’s road, and it is the steepest, because no one hands it to you. You see how the line got drawn, and you stop being the one who keeps drawing it on yourself. Garvey said plainly what slavery actually is: “When a man is a slave, he has no liberty of action; no freedom of will, he is bound and controlled by the will and act of others.” Notice the path. Break that belief, and the rest comes loose. That is the work the other seven stages are built to do, the slow construction of a mind no one else holds the keys to. It starts with a child who has just learned the price of the ground under his feet. The only question the awakening leaves behind is what we hand to the child standing in it right now, watching to see whether we believed the name, whether we hid from it, or whether we did what Garvey did. References Baldwin, James, et al. “The Negro in American Culture.” CrossCurrents, vol. 11, no. 3, 1961. Fanon, Frantz. Black Skin, White Masks. Translated by Charles Lam Markmann, Grove Press, 1967. Garvey, Marcus. The Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey. Edited by Amy Jacques Garvey, The Majority Press, 1986. “Marcus Garvey: Look for Me in the Whirlwind.” American Experience, directed by Stanley Nelson, PBS, 2001. This Substack funds The Garvey Classroom — curriculum, courses, and free daily teaching for students, parentsFree subscribers receive the writing. Paid subscribers fund the work.. Get full access to The Garvey Classroom at geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe [https://geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

The Ten Commandments of Mental Slavery

Nobody handed them to us in a ceremony. There was no overseer standing at the door of our minds with a list. No plantation bell rang the morning the rules arrived. They came in the curriculum of schools that never said our name. In churches that taught us to wait for a heaven we would never inherit. In the kitchens and front rooms of our own households, where grown people we loved hushed their biggest dreams before we could catch them. They arrived the way most occupations do. Gradually. Then completely. By the time we were old enough to question the rules, we had already begun to obey. We doubted our genius before anyone asked us to. We distrusted our people before the colonizers lifted a finger. We forgot our history and called the forgetting normal. I know because I did it too. Edward Wilmot Blyden saw it in 1888 in the posture of our people. Du Bois felt it at the veil. Garvey named it mental slavery and spent three decades building the cure. Fanon named it the epidermalization of inferiority. Wynter named its deepest architecture. DeGruy named it Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome. All of them were describing the same installation. Ten commandments. Written not in stone but in policy, in pedagogy, in the long silence of a people cut off from their own story. Because no one called them commandments, we obeyed them as if they were nature. We were not born this way. Movement One: The Self Under Siege I. Thou Shalt Not Dream. Colonial education did not merely neglect Black imagination. It systematically punished it. The child who dreamed too big was corrected. The girl who dared speak of what she would become was told to be realistic. I believed it for longer than I want to admit. Tell me that I must live and die a beggar, and it becomes true only because I have no better selection. Tell me that I will live and be one of the conquerors of the world, and it shall be so according to the state of my personal ambition. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) Garvey was not offering inspiration. He was issuing a diagnosis. Then he dreamed the Black Star Line into existence. He dreamed of a nation with a flag. The imagination, properly cultivated, is an infrastructure. II. Thou Shalt Be Ashamed of Thyself. Shame operates from inside the chest, in the moment before speech, in the hesitation before our sons and daughters raise their hands. Centuries of colonial theology taught us that our blackness was a curse. The mission school finished what the plantation began, gently, smiling, with certificates. God never made you inferior. He alone demands that you bow down and worship Him. I prefer to die, and every Negro to die, rather than to live and think that God created me as inferior to the white man. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) Anna Julia Cooper knew that the Black woman carried this shame on two axes at once. Fanon had not yet published his analysis of how colonialism presses inferiority into the skin, but Garvey had already begun pressing it back out, one woman and one man at a time. III. Thou Shalt Doubt Thy Own Genius. Lack of confidence is not a personality trait. It is a political condition. Our children do not lack confidence because of internal failure. The doubt was installed. Curriculum by curriculum. Silence by silence. By bookshelves that held no face like hers. If you have no confidence in self, you are twice defeated in the race of life. With confidence, you have won even before you have started. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) Amos Wilson documented how that installed doubt reshapes behavior across generations. What they called our emptiness was a wound they made and then refused to see. IV. Thou Shalt Not Know Thyself. If we do not know who we are, we cannot know what has been taken from us. Du Bois described it as “double consciousness,” always arriving at ourselves second, after the world has already judged. The difference of conditions between races and peoples is the difference in understanding one’s self. Man, know thyself. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) Linda James Myers built a whole psychology around this condition. Self-knowledge is not a philosophical exercise for people with leisure time. It is the precondition for political action. The self under siege. Four commandments. One operation: make us the agents of our own diminishment. Movement Two: The Community Under Siege V. Thou Shalt Tear Down Thy Brother and Sister. Booker T. Washington called it “crabs in a barrel.” What we call “crabs in a barrel,” the colonizer called divide and rule. We have been running this program for so long that we have forgotten who installed it. Watch what happens when one of us rises. The commentary arrives before the accomplishment is finished. We call it accountability, and sometimes it is, but sometimes it is the barrel. And sometimes it descends into pettiness. The greatest weapon used against the Negro is DISORGANIZATION. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) And because Black men have been rendered powerless in an honor-and-shame culture that is not African, we reach for outward symbols. The gold chain is not vanity. It is the statement of a man whom the system has told is worthless. Power is not something you take from another person. Ubuntu says it plainly. I and I reverses the colonial grammar. Garvey built the antidote from the inside out. The UNIA required every one of us to decide that the person beside us was worth trusting. Real power comes from being who you are. VI. Thou Shalt Seek the Approval of Others. Dependency is colonialism’s long game. You know the feeling. The meeting where you wait for someone else to confirm what you already know. The mirror where you have checked yourself against a standard you did not set. When you go to another man to beg him, you are reducing the God in you and worshipping the god in the other man. (Garvey, Message to the People 1986) Carter G. Woodson named it a century ago: the mis-educated Negro has been trained to depend on the system that oppresses us. We have been asking permission for four hundred years, and the permission keeps arriving late. Or never. VII. Thou Shalt Imitate Thy Master. This commandment gets into the mirror. It arrives at the beauty counter, in the straightening comb, in the accent carefully cultivated to sound less like home. Don’t remove the kinks from your hair — remove them from your brain. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) Frantz Fanon watched her put on the white mask and lose herself inside it. Whoever defines beauty defines power. We surrendered the most intimate territory there is, and we did it in stages so gradual we called each stage progress. VIII. Thou Shalt Worship the System That Rules Thee. Colonial education is not neutral. It is a technology of downpression. The child who goes to a school built by the colonizer is not receiving an education. She is receiving an installation, and when it is complete, she will defend it, because it will feel like herself. Never swallow wholly what the white man writes or says without first critically analyzing it and investigating it. (Garvey, Message to the People 1986) Cabral named the mechanism: they made us leave our history to follow theirs, right at the back. The system has succeeded when we cannot see the cage. When we argue for the cage. When we teach our children to fit inside it, and call it preparation. The community under siege. Four commandments. One operation: make us ungovernable by each other, so we remain permanently governable by someone else. Movement Three: The Future Under Siege IX. Thou Shalt Remain Small Jim Crow laws closed libraries, shuttered Black schools, and made the accumulation of knowledge a punishable ambition. Frederick Douglass knew it before the law was even written: they kept us ignorant because they knew what we would do if we learned to read. Intelligence rules the world, and ignorance carries the burden. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) A people that stops growing intellectually has already begun to be governed by those who have not. We have felt this in our bones before we could name it. X. Thou Shalt Ignore Thy History. A people without their history have no compass. Cheikh Anta Diop proved that African civilization preceded everything Europe claimed as its own. Ivan Van Sertima showed us what they buried. We mistake four hundred years of deliberate destruction for evidence of natural incapacity. I have sat in classrooms where that mistake was being made in the silence where our names should have been. HISTORY is the landmark by which we are directed into the true course of life. (Garvey, Philosophy and Opinions 1923) The colonizer’s first move is always to destroy the compass. The tall poppy syndrome and the barrel are the same commandment working at two levels: one destroys greatness from outside, the other from within. A people who know where they came from know where they are. And a people who know where they are can decide where they are going. The future under siege. Two commandments. One operation: cut the line of transmission between the ancestors who built and the descendants who must build again. What Must Change Garvey did not write these commandments. He wrote the antidotes. Radical ambition against the prohibition on dreaming. Self-reverence against installed shame. Audacious confidence against the doubt put in us before we had language for it. Solidarity against engineered fragmentation. Economic autonomy against dependency. Cultural self-definition against mimicry. Critical consciousness against system worship. Intellectual industry against stagnation. Historical rootedness against amnesia. He did not theorize from a comfortable distance. He built. The UNIA was the antidote to disorganization. The Negro World was the antidote to the colonizer’s press. The School of African Philosophy trained over a thousand organizers from a cold room in London after deportation had stripped him of the movement he had built. Through the African Communities League and the Negro Factories Corporation, he turned philosophy into payroll. The Garvey Blueprint is that school, updated for this moment. Mental sovereignty must precede political sovereignty. Change the institution without changing the mind, and the new institution will reproduce the old one. We have watched this happen. We have lived through its repetitions. A mind that governs itself cannot be permanently governed by others. When African people decided to govern their own minds, Garvey happened. The UNIA happened. Five million people happened. The colonial system spent fifty years trying to put that particular fire out. It did not go out. We are still here. * * * What to Do You have read the commandments. You have recognized some of them. Maybe all of them. That recognition is not shame. It is Awakening. Stage One of the work Garvey actually left us. The Garvey Blueprint: Awakening to Mental Sovereignty is an eight-week course built from Garvey’s pedagogical framework in Message to the People: Eight stages. Eight historical strategists from Carter G. Woodson to Paul Robeson. Your own words read directly from Garvey’s texts. And at the end, a Sovereignty Statement — your individual genius placed in service to your community. The commandments have had four centuries. The antidotes begin now. Enrollment is open. Fifty seats. Cohort I. Course begins April 5. Enroll — $50 [https://thegarveyclassroom.teachable.com] Enrollment closes April 4. * * * Frequently Asked Questions What are the Ten Commandments of Mental Slavery? The Ten Commandments of Mental Slavery are ten psychological patterns through which colonized people unconsciously participate in their own subjugation. Derived from a critical reading of Marcus Garvey’s teachings, they name the internalized habits of thought that colonialism installs across generations. Garvey argued that mental emancipation must precede political liberation. Each commandment is paired with an antidote rooted in his philosophy of self-reliance, racial pride, and historical consciousness. What did Marcus Garvey teach about mental slavery? Garvey taught that the most dangerous form of slavery is the slavery of the mind. His entire program — from the UNIA to the Negro World to the School of African Philosophy — was designed to break that interior captivity. His core conviction was that a mind that governs itself cannot be permanently governed by others. Where can I study Garvey’s philosophy of mental emancipation? The Garvey Classroom offers structured adult education built directly from Garvey’s pedagogical framework. The Garvey Blueprint: Awakening to Mental Sovereignty is an eight-week course that guides participants through the eight developmental stages of mental freedom. Enrollment and course information are available at thegarveyclassroom.com. * * * References Blyden, Edward Wilmot. Christianity, Islam and the Negro Race. W.B. Whittingham, 1888. Cabral, Amilcar. Return to the Source: Selected Speeches of Amilcar Cabral. Monthly Review Press, 1973. Cooper, Anna Julia. A Voice from the South. Aldine Printing House, 1892. DeGruy, Joy. Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing. Uptone Press, 2005. Diop, Cheikh Anta. The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality. Translated by Mercer Cook, Lawrence Hill Books, 1974. Douglass, Frederick. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave. Anti-Slavery Office, 1845. Du Bois, W.E.B. The Souls of Black Folk. A.C. McClurg, 1903. Fanon, Frantz. Black Skin, White Masks. Translated by Charles Lam Markmann, Grove Press, 1967. Garvey, Marcus. Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey. Edited by Amy Jacques Garvey, Universal Publishing House, 1923. ———. Message to the People: The Course of African Philosophy. Edited by Tony Martin, The Majority Press, 1986. Martin, Tony. Race First. Greenwood Press, 1976. Myers, Linda James. Understanding an Afrocentric World View: Introduction to an Optimal Psychology. Kendall/Hunt, 1988. Van Sertima, Ivan. They Came Before Columbus. Random House, 1976. Wilson, Amos. Black-on-Black Violence. Afrikan World InfoSystems, 1990. Woodson, Carter G. The Mis-Education of the Negro. Associated Publishers, 1933. Wynter, Sylvia. “Unsettling the Coloniality of Being/Power/Truth/Freedom.” CR: The New Centennial Review, vol. 3, no. 3, 2003, pp. 257–337. Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to The Garvey Classroom at geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe [https://geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

Ida B. Wells and the Machinery of the Lie

Some nuh really waah si di world as it is So dem get caught wit all di tings weh dem a build Foundation fi set we got to do it quick Ah hope ah guy nuh vex there aint nuh easy way about dis Some side step, some come fi trick Dem wrong concept a devil dem a worship —Sizzla Kalonji, “Make It Secure” Think about the scale of the machinery it takes to convince Black people we are living inside a system that values justice and honesty. Think about the number of institutions, textbooks, news cycles, and classroom hours required to maintain that fiction. The machinery does not rest. It runs every morning before you open your eyes and hums through every headline you read before bed. It is so thorough that the people it harms defend it against their own witness. But Black people cannot afford to not see things as they are. In some cases, what you refuse to see is the difference between life and death. Ida B. Wells understood that. Born in Holly Springs, Mississippi, in 1862, she lost both parents and an infant brother to the yellow fever epidemic of 1878. At sixteen, she kept her remaining siblings together by working as a teacher. She did not wait for the world to explain itself to her. She went and looked. In 1892, three of her friends were lynched in Memphis. Thomas Moss, Calvin McDowell, and Henry Stewart owned a grocery store called the People’s Grocery Company. Their business competed with a white-owned store across the street. White men attacked them. When they defended their property, they were arrested, dragged from jail, and murdered. Wells investigated. What she found destroyed the lie white America had told itself about lynching: that it was punishment for Black men assaulting white women. She published the evidence. The white establishment in Memphis burned her newspaper office and ran her out of the city. She kept writing. What Wells built was a record no one could deny. Southern Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases in 1892. The Red Record in 1895. She traveled to England twice to speak about the epidemic of lynching because the American press refused to print the truth. She did not wait for consensus. She documented the killing, named the killers, and published what she found. The record survived because she made it survive. Garvey recognized what Wells was doing. He wrote about the crisis in Black journalism with a precision that still cuts. The Black press, he said, had no constructive policy. The news published reflected the worst of the race’s character. He called for “crusaders in journalism who will not seek to enrich themselves off the crimes and ignorance of our race, but men and women who will risk everything for the promotion of racial pride, self-respect, love and integrity” (Garvey 1923, 55). Wells was the crusader Garvey was calling for, years before he wrote the words. Her truth-telling directly affected Garvey’s trajectory. Garvey came to America in March 1916 with the intention of raising funds, lecturing across the country, and eventually returning to Jamaica to build a school modeled on Booker T. Washington’s Tuskegee Institute. Washington had invited him. However, Washington died before Garvey arrived. Garvey visited Tuskegee anyway, then embarked on a speaking tour across thirty-eight states. He saw the racial condition of Black America with his own eyes. The East St. Louis massacre of July 1917 changed everything. White mobs, aided by police and the National Guard, slaughtered Black men, women, and children. Wells traveled to East St. Louis and conducted her own investigation. She published The East St. Louis Massacre: The Greatest Outrage of the Century, documenting what she found through interviews with survivors, and her story caught Garvey’s eyes. He gave his speech, “The Conspiracy of the East St. Louis Riots,” on July 8, 1917, six days after the massacre. He called it “one of the bloodiest outrages against mankind.” As a result, Garvey did not go back to Jamaica. He stayed and built the Universal Negro Improvement Association into the largest mass movement in Black history. The East St. Louis massacre, and the failure of the established Black leadership to match the scale of the violence with the scale of their response, convinced him that the work had to happen here. Wells had already shown him what truth-telling looked like when it cost everything. Her example is written into the DNA of what Garvey built. The community still needs truth-tellers. People like Marvin Dunn, who has spent decades doing in Florida what Wells did across the South. A professor emeritus at Florida International University, Dunn wrote Black Miami in the Twentieth Century and co-authored The Miami Riot of 1980: Crossing the Bounds, documenting the killing of Arthur McDuffie by police and the uprising that followed when the officers were acquitted. He has led the excavation of Rosewood, the Florida town where, in January 1923, a white mob burned every building and killed an unknown number of Black residents after a white woman lied about being attacked by a Black man. Nobody investigated. Nobody was charged. Dunn purchased five acres of land in Rosewood, becoming the only Black person to own property there since 1923. His white neighbor tried to kill him for it. David Emanuel shouted racial slurs at Dunn and nearly ran his truck into a group that included Dunn’s adult son. Emanuel was convicted on six counts of federal hate crimes in 2023. Dunn went back. He keeps going back. When Florida began restricting how Black history could be taught in schools, Dunn started his “Teach the Truth” tours, taking students and their parents to the sites of racial violence across the state. In April 2025, he sat under a tree on the FIU campus and taught the Rosewood massacre to anyone willing to listen. He called it the Black History Learning Tree. He said most of his colleagues were too vulnerable to join him. He did not blame them. He sat under the tree anyway, building a twenty-first-century hush harbor. Dunn teaches under a tree because the classroom has been compromised. The curriculum has been sanitized. The truth has been declared too uncomfortable for the state to allow. So he does what Black people have always done when the institution fails them. He finds a clearing and teaches. Wells built a record. Garvey built a movement. Dunn builds a living testimony. The method is the same. Go where the truth is buried. Dig it up. Tell it to anyone who will listen. Pay whatever it costs. The machinery of the lie depends on silence, on compliance, on the exhaustion of the people it harms. Truth-telling is the disruption that the machinery cannot absorb. Who are the truth-tellers in your community? Not the ones on television. Not the ones with the largest platforms. The ones who go to the site. The ones who buy the land. The ones who sit under the tree. The ones who keep the record when keeping the record is the most dangerous thing you can do. Wells died in 1931. The record she built outlived every institution that tried to bury it. Garvey’s movement reached six million people because he refused to look away from what Wells had already shown him. Dunn is eighty-five years old and still teaching under a tree in a state that wants him to stop. The machinery of the lie is enormous. It is funded, staffed, and protected by law. The truth-teller has a pen, a voice, and the willingness to stand where the record demands. That has always been enough. References Garvey, Marcus. 1923. Philosophy and Opinions of Marcus Garvey, or, Africa for the Africans. Compiled by Amy Jacques Garvey. New York: Universal Publishing House. Hill, Robert A., ed. 1983. The Marcus Garvey and Universal Negro Improvement Association Papers. Vol. 1. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wells-Barnett, Ida B. 1892. Southern Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases. New York: New York Age Print. Wells-Barnett, Ida B. 1895. The Red Record: Tabulated Statistics and Alleged Causes of Lynching in the United States. Chicago: Donohue and Henneberry. Wells-Barnett, Ida B. 1917. The East St. Louis Massacre: The Greatest Outrage of the Century. Chicago: The Negro Fellowship Herald Press. This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to The Garvey Classroom at geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe [https://geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

How The Garvey Blueprint Started

It started as a simple idea. Teach Black children about Marcus Garvey in a way that I had never received. So, I started with a book here and a book there. Then, drawing on my 30 years as a middle school teacher, professor, and chair of developmental education, I began writing lesson plans. As I wrote these lesson plans, I realized they were not enough. They were repeating what many public schools do, especially during Black History Month. They present our heroes without context. Without cost. Without the opposition those heroes faced and the strategies they built to meet it. Frantz Fanon said each generation must discover its mission, fulfill it, or betray it. Most curricula skip that charge entirely. They give students a portrait and call it education. I began writing a curriculum for a client in New York. Grade 6. But by the time I finished, I realized I needed a three-year arc to complete the developmental sequence. And here it is. The Garvey Blueprint. A three-year ELA program founded on Garvey’s philosophy and guided by the scholarship of Paulo Freire, Rupert Lewis, Angela Duckworth, Benjamin Bloom, and Maslow. Garvey’s foundation is what holds everything together. His philosophy aligns our thoughts and emotions with disciplined action. But what separates Garvey’s ideas from most others on alignment is his insistence that our actions must serve our communities. In this case, the Black community. Or as Bad Bunny said, “Mi gente.” If you’d like to learn more about The Garvey Blueprint, the link below will take you to The Garvey Classroom NotebookLM, where you can query and receive answers in over 80 languages. https://notebooklm.google.com/notebook/37ac40f9-77bb-4155-8024-7e9992668b4f And if this has connected with you in any way, please share it with anyone you think may be interested. FAQs What is The Garvey Blueprint? The Garvey Blueprint is a three-year Pan-African ELA curriculum for grades 6 through 8, founded on the philosophy of Marcus Garvey and guided by the scholarship of Paulo Freire, Rupert Lewis, Angela Duckworth, Benjamin Bloom, and Maslow. Who created The Garvey Blueprint? Geoffrey Philp, an educator with 30 years of experience as a middle school teacher, professor, and chair of developmental education, created The Garvey Blueprint through The Garvey Classroom LLC. What makes The Garvey Blueprint different from Black History Month lessons? The Garvey Blueprint studies historical figures in context, with costs and opposition, rather than presenting heroes as portraits without strategy. Every figure is studied as a builder whose methods can be applied today. Why do Black students need a Pan-African curriculum? Most public schools separate African, Caribbean, and African American intellectual history. The Garvey Blueprint reconnects that tradition across 75 figures from the entire diaspora over three years. How does The Garvey Blueprint teach Marcus Garvey’s philosophy? Garvey’s philosophy aligns thought and emotion with disciplined action in the service of the community. The curriculum weaves its three pillars into every quarter, guiding questions and assignments across all three grades. Thanks for reading! This post is public, so feel free to share it. Get full access to The Garvey Classroom at geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe [https://geoffreyphilp.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]