In many ways, slavery hasn’t ended—it has simply evolved into something more subtle, more insidious. We may not see chains or hear the crack of a whip, but the mental slavery that grips us today is just as damaging. This is the revelation we must face: though physical slavery has been abolished, the chains of the mind have only become harder to detect, making the struggle even more complex.
While some may argue that things have improved, it’s essential to realize that the nature of the battle has shifted. It’s no longer just about physical oppression, but the more covert forms of control we encounter every day. The deception lies in the fact that many of us don’t even realize we’re still enslaved, blinded by distractions and misinformation. It’s a sophisticated system designed to keep us docile, unaware of our mental paralysis.
As children, we are often introduced to the Bible, told to study its scriptures for guidance and strength. But even within these religious frameworks, interpretations have been manipulated to support submission. From a young age, many of us are taught to conform, to follow without questioning the deeper meanings behind what we read or hear. The mental and spiritual blindness that results from this is staggering. It’s like being paralyzed—unable to feel the pain of our predicament because we’ve been conditioned to accept our circumstances as normal.
This modern slavery is worse than physical slavery in many ways. Physical chains can be seen and felt, but the chains on our minds are invisible. The illusion of freedom is perhaps the most dangerous aspect of all. Legally, we can no longer be whipped or lynched in public squares. The brutality has shifted from the physical to the psychological. The legal systems that once allowed physical violence have now transformed into systems of economic, social, and mental oppression. And because we don’t feel physical pain, many of us fail to recognize the suffering we endure.
The trick of modern slavery lies in its subtlety. Like a person paralyzed from the neck down, we may not feel the pain of our current condition. The laws might protect us from overt brutality, but they do nothing to free our minds. Police brutality, for instance, still exists, but the legal apparatus ensures it remains sporadic and framed as an exception rather than the rule. Yet, this does not mean we are free—it simply means the methods of control have changed.
Those of us who are awake to this reality can feel the pain in ways others cannot. We see the atrocities and feel the weight of the deception because we are conscious of it. Those who remain asleep in this system may look at us with confusion, even contempt. They question why we cry out, why we resist, when everything seems ‘fine’ on the surface. They’ve been blinded to the realities that people like us, people like Irritated Genie or myself (LanceScurv), try to reveal.
Heroes and villains are a matter of perspective. Every system has its so-called champions, but often, these “heroes” are deeply flawed. The United States, for example, celebrates presidents like George Washington and Abraham Lincoln—men who owned slaves or were complicit in the system of slavery in one way or another. These individuals are glorified in history books, their faces are on our money, and their legacy is immortalized. Yet, for Black Americans, these men represent the brutal system that enslaved and oppressed us.
The painful truth is that we are still slaves, just paralyzed to the point where many of us don’t even recognize it. Our paralysis is both mental and emotional, keeping us from fully understanding the extent of the damage done to us. We think we’re free because we don’t feel the whip on our backs, but the slavery persists in our inability to see beyond the illusions placed before us.
Today, those who speak out against this mental slavery are often seen as radicals, extremists, or even terrorists. Take figures like Irritated Genie, who teaches self-defense and the importance of mental liberation. The system labels people like him as dangerous, not because they are violent, but because they threaten the status quo. It’s the same principle that applies to history—one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.
Those who owned slaves or perpetuated the system of slavery are celebrated as heroes by some, but for Black people, they represent the face of our ongoing oppression. And now, the battle is against the invisible chains—against the systems that keep us mentally shackled without us even realizing it.
This mental slavery is designed to keep us dependent, to make us feel like we can’t survive without the very system that oppresses us. It’s a form of Stockholm syndrome, where we defend and protect our captors because we’ve been conditioned to see them as our only option. We don’t want to be slaves, but many of us don’t realize we’re still wearing the chains.
It’s time for us to wake up. Those who are awake can no longer afford to be silent. We must break free from the mental paralysis that keeps us from recognizing our true condition. The platforms that give voice to this truth, like mine and others, must be supported. We can’t do it alone. It’s time to take action, to stand together and recognize that not everyone with Black skin is on our side. Some, even within our own race, are instruments of the system designed to keep us enslaved.
We must reject the overseers, the gatekeepers who prevent our liberation. The time for complacency is over. We must break the mental chains and rise above the systems that continue to oppress us.
Slavery may have changed its form, but it is no less real today than it was centuries ago. The chains of the mind are the hardest to break, but with awareness and unity, we can free ourselves once and for all.
This self-sabotage is one of the most tragic realities of our existence. We’ve seen it throughout history: the betrayal of our own leaders and visionaries, not by external forces alone, but often by the very people they fought for. Malcolm X was gunned down by those who should have been his brothers. Fred Hampton was set up by a member of his own community, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination was tainted by whispers of betrayal from those closest to him, like Jesse Jackson.
These are not isolated incidents but are emblematic of a larger pattern. Many of us seem to be trapped in an addition class, stuck on the basic concept of unity and collective progression, while others among us strive to solve the higher-level problems of empowerment and liberation. Instead of lifting up those who possess the knowledge to move us forward, we cut them down. This ego-driven mentality, rooted in envy, fear, and a desire for attention, has kept us stagnant, unable to truly rise as a unified force.
Historically, the root of this issue can be traced back to the divide-and-conquer tactics of slavery and colonialism. We were conditioned to mistrust one another, to see our brothers and sisters as competitors rather than allies. The lasting effects of this psychological warfare are evident in how we treat one another today. Whether it’s a small-scale issue of community leadership or a larger national movement, the pattern is the same—if we can’t be the one in control, we’ll make sure no one is.
The assassination of leaders like Malcolm X, Fred Hampton, and Dr. King was not just a loss of their lives but a loss of the movements they championed. These betrayals set us back decades, and now, decades later, we find ourselves in much the same place. Our communities are still plagued by poverty, systemic racism, and violence, but on top of that, we face an internal battle—a lack of unity and trust among our own people.
If figures like Malcolm X, Dr. King, and Fred Hampton could return today, their disappointment would be immeasurable. They would see a community that has, in many ways, regressed. The momentum they built has been squandered, and the progress made during the Civil Rights Movement has largely stalled. While we have more access to education, technology, and platforms to amplify our voices, we have not used these tools effectively. In fact, social media and other platforms have often become breeding grounds for further division, as we publicly tear one another down in front of the world.
But why do we continue to betray each other? Why do we hold onto these ego-driven conflicts when our collective upliftment is at stake? The answer lies in the deep scars of history. Centuries of oppression have left us with a survival mentality that often prioritizes individual success over communal growth. We’ve been conditioned to believe that there can only be one leader, one voice, and if we’re not that voice, we’ll destroy the competition. This mentality is counterproductive, especially when we’re still at the bottom rung of society’s ladder.
The solution lies in confronting this mentality head-on. We must break the cycle of ego and envy that has crippled our movements. We need to stop seeing each other as competitors and start seeing each other as vital parts of the same team. No movement has ever succeeded with just one leader or one visionary. It takes a collective, each person playing their position, understanding that not everyone can be at the front—but that doesn’t diminish their importance.
We must also hold each other accountable, especially those in positions of influence and power within our communities. If we continue to support leaders who perpetuate division, betrayal, and ego-driven agendas, we are complicit in our own downfall. We need to foster an environment where collaboration is valued over competition, where each person’s contribution is respected, no matter how small or large.
Furthermore, we must work to heal the deep wounds that have been passed down through generations. The psychological effects of slavery, Jim Crow, and systemic racism have left us distrustful, fearful, and broken. But healing is possible, and it starts with acknowledging the pain and taking steps toward unity. We must learn to forgive ourselves and each other for the past betrayals and begin to rebuild trust.
If we want to move forward, we must shed the need for attention and ego. Instead, we should focus on the bigger picture—lifting ourselves out of the position we’ve been in for centuries. We cannot afford to continue cutting down our leaders, betraying one another, and undermining our own progress. It’s time to elevate, to move from addition to Calculus, to understand that our collective liberation is far more important than any individual’s need for power or recognition.
These ideas challenge us to examine our role in perpetuating betrayal and division, and they offer a path forward that focuses on unity, healing, and collective progress. We must break free from this destructive cycle if we are ever to achieve true liberation and empowerment.
