From the Underground Up

How Movements Grow

Movements do not begin with fanfare. They do not start with applause. They do not wait for permission.

They begin in the quiet, in the spaces unseen. They take root at the kitchen-table meetings, in the whispered observations and considerations, in the knowing glances of those who refuse to accept that the world must stay as it is.

Before there were marches, there were letters, coded messages, and gathering places where the first sparks of resistance were carefully protected. Before anyone heard a rallying cry, there were people who had already made the decision, deep in their bones, to stand when the time came.

The Civil Rights Movement did not begin with Martin Luther King Jr. delivering a speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It began in the unseen labour of Black women like Septima Clark, Ella Baker, and Fannie Lou Hamer, organizing voter registration drives and freedom schools long before the cameras arrived. It was rooted in the quiet defiance of Black domestic workers who, day after day, taught their children that their dignity could never be legislated away.

The Stonewall Uprising did not begin the night Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera resisted police violence — it was the culmination of years of underground networks, secret shelters for queer youth, and whispered survival strategies passed down in the margins of a society that refused to make space.

Every movement we know — Indigenous land defence, anti-colonial revolutions, labour uprisings — grew in this way.

Slowly. Quietly. Beneath the surface.

After all, like Muhammad Ali said, it’s the punch you don’t see comin’ that knocks you out.

Like roots weaving through soil, binding together until they are so strong, so interconnected, that no force can tear them apart.

And then, one day, those roots push through the ground.

A fracture in the pavement. A sprout in the open air. A shift that can no longer be ignored.

This is how real change begins.

Not from the top down, but from the underground up.

Roots Before Branches: Why Lasting Change Starts Below the Surface

Too often, we mistake visibility for power. We assume that if something is loud, if it is trending, if it is plastered across headlines, then it must be what matters most.

But power is not always built in the light, it is built in the unseen.

The Montgomery Bus Boycotts were acts of strategic defiance, not an impromptu reaction. It was the result of months of planning, coordinated through underground networks, sparked by Claudette Colvin at fifteen years old.

Movements that last do not rely on spectacle alone. They do not chase virality. They do not burn out in a flash of outrage, only to disappear when attention fades.

They root themselves in relationships, in systems of care, in deeply woven commitments that exist whether the world is watching or not.

This is why oppressive systems are so invested in severing those roots. They want us disconnected and isolated. They want us to believe that resistance is futile unless it is visible, unless it is instantly recognized, unless it comes with a platform.

The most powerful revolutions are the ones that cannot be uprooted. They were the ones who were never dependent on being seen.

The Forest is Stronger Than the Tree: How Collective Action Grows

A single tree standing alone is vulnerable. A storm can knock it down and its roots, however deep, can only hold so much ground.

But a forest? A forest is unstoppable.

When trees grow together, their roots intertwine beneath the surface, creating a vast underground network that keeps them steady. They share nutrients. They send warning signals when danger is near. Even when one tree falls, the forest remains.

This is how movements sustain themselves.

Resilience is not built through individual strength — it is built through interconnection.

Every successful movement in history was not the work of a single leader but of many. Ella Baker knew this when she trained young organizers to take ownership of the Civil Rights Movement instead of waiting for a single figurehead. The Black Panthers knew this when they built community programs that fed, educated, and cared for the people. Indigenous resistance movements have known this for generations as they organize across nations, sharing knowledge, stewardship practices, and defence strategies.

The work is not just about being strong. It is about being woven together so tightly that no force can break us apart.

What We Can Learn: Building Movements That Last

If we want to create change — not just moments, not just temporary waves, but real, lasting transformation — we must learn from the movements that came before us. We must build like roots, not branches.

How do we do this? Here are some ideas that I’ve reflected on throughout the years:

Move Beyond the Spectacle

Social media activism has its place, but movements cannot rely solely on visibility. Let’s be real: J. Edgar Hoover wouldn’t need COINTELPRO if he had social media platforms. Think about it: creating fake profiles to create derision is much easier than threatening and planting informants, propagating misinformation does not have to come through snail mail but can be posted within seconds en masse with bots, and it is so much easier to get into an activist’s head if you can also buy their data as a third party. Every time a bell rings, an angel might get its wings — but one thing I know for sure is every time a fight breaks out on a social media thread between activists and collaborators that then runs-off into the real world and no one comes together to keep the movement going, J. Edgar Hoover is smiling somewhere. All hypotheticals aside, we have to ask ourselves: If the cameras, likes, and shares disappeared tomorrow, would the work still continue for you? Build movements that do not depend on performance, but on deeply rooted commitment.

Invest in the Unseen Work

Real organizing happens long before the world takes notice. It happens in late-night planning meetings, in quiet conversations, in the daily, unglamorous labour of shifting systems. I have hosted many quiet nights with tea, Turkish coffee, records on the player, and delicious snacks with thinkers and organizers from all walks of life. These conversations were critical in building a vision alongside trust, shared laughter, and joyous moments. I will never forget bringing a tray of coffee into my living room as The Pointer Sisters played and myself and two of my advocate friends immediately broke out into doing the Neutron Dance in the living room, keeping joy alive. Honour the work that is never recorded, seen, or shared online.

Build Relationships, Not Just Movements

A movement built on viral moments will fade. A movement built on relationships will last. Strengthen your networks, deepen trust, organize in ways that make your community stronger even outside of moments of crisis.

Prepare for the Long Haul

I’ve been doing this work for over twenty years even though I am still relatively young (although I do have a lot miles, to say the least). I have a picture of me and my father, on the cover of our local newspaper, where I am squinting into the sun at ten years old with a face that says “I can’t believe I have to protest this!” holding up a sign protesting against child abuse. When you live in the margins, advocacy is a part of your life from a very young age and you never stop. Oppressive systems do not collapse overnight and resistance is a lifetime commitment. Expect pushback. Expect exhaustion. Expect the work to be slow.

Then do it anyway.

Pass It On

Wisdom is a living thing. Every generation must plant new seeds, but also tend to the ones that were sown before them. Read movement history and learn from those who have already done this work. And then — leave something behind for those who will come next.

The Forest Will Rise

They will tell us that resistance is futile. They will say that what we do is too small to matter. They will try to sever our roots, to make us believe that we are alone, that we are scattered, that our actions will never amount to enough.

But they are wrong.

History tells us otherwise.

Every movement they tried to bury only grew stronger underground.

Every act of defiance they tried to erase became the foundation for what came next.

And right now, beneath the surface, the roots are already moving.

Slowly, steadily, they are weaving together.

The ground is shifting. The pavement is cracking.

And soon — sooner than they expect — something unstoppable and beautiful will break through and blossom.

The concrete is no match for the rose.

With roots deep and branches wide,

Ms. K