It’s Always Been Us

W.E.B. DuBois had it wrong. Not about the idea of the Talented Tenth—the notion that a select few would rise up and lead the race—but about who those leaders would be. He envisioned Black men at the helm, using education, economic power, and moral strength to uplift the rest. But history tells a different story. The Talented Tenth was never who DuBois imagined. It was—and always has been—Black women.

The Genius in Silence

DuBois wrote of Black women carrying the crushing weight of slavery: no legal marriages, no legal families, no control over their children. Yet, despite all of that, they were not crushed. If anything, they sharpened their ability to observe, to listen, to strategize. Silence was the training ground for our genius.

We mastered the art of deep noticing—the kind that comes from being in the margins yet responsible for the center. We watched the movements and routines of households we did not belong to. We created homes in places and spaces where we had none. Always making something out of someone else's scraps—be it food, love, or opportunities.

And when the world overlooked us, we became the architects of progress anyway.

The Legacy of Josie

Josie is a young Black woman named in The Souls of Black Folk. She was energetic, resourceful, and the backbone of her family. He described her berry-picking—a seemingly small detail, but a powerful metaphor. Berry-picking requires patience. It requires bending low, searching beneath the leaves, and carefully selecting what is ripe and worthy.

That’s what Black women have always done. We’ve sought out hidden resources, cultivated potential, and ensured our families and communities had what they needed to thrive. When Josie persistently pushed DuBois to open a school, she was not only advocating for herself—she was acting as a connector, a leader, a visionary. She wasn’t waiting to be saved. She identified the gap demanded creation of what the people needed

That is the legacy of Black women. Not just striving for their own advancement but ensuring that others—siblings, children, entire communities—are lifted with them.

Beyond the Vantage Point

DuBois believed that the Talented Tenth would rise and pull others up. But what if they never needed pulling? What if they were already holding everyone together, often at great personal cost?

Black women were never granted the privilege of elitism that DuBois referenced. We weren’t at the vantage point— we were in the trenches - raising other people’s babies and our own. Yet, from those positions, we saw everything. We learned how to read between the lines, anticipate needs, and maneuver through obstacles that no one else could. We created possibilities where none existed - and still do.

DuBois’ mistake wasn’t just in underestimating Black women. It was in failing to see that we were the foundation of the very progress he spoke of and hoped for.

The True Talented Tenth

“The Talented Tenth rises and pulls all that are worth saving up to their vantage ground.”

But what if the Talented Tenth were never the ones on high, reaching down? What if they were the ones on the ground, lifting everyone from below? What if they were the ones who, in their silence, suffering, and striving, created the very conditions for survival, resistance, and progress?

Because they were. We are. And we always will be.

The Talented Tenth was always Black women. 

And it's about time we say it plainly. 

It’s always been us.