Unbothered
Our Black Shining Prince š¤“š¾āØ
John Tubman, Harrietās Husband Who Didnāt Follow Her North
Before Harriet Tubman became a legend, before her name was whispered like a promise along the Underground Railroad, she was Araminta āMintyā Rossāenslaved, hunted by pain and memory, and married to a man who was already free.
His name was John Tubman.
They met in the early 1840s in Dorchester County, Maryland, a place where freedom and bondage existed side by side but never touched. John Tubman had been born free, a status that shaped how he moved through the world. He worked odd jobs, lived without a master, and occupied a fragile middle groundāBlack, but not enslaved. Minty Ross, by contrast, belonged to someone else in the most literal sense of the word.
In 1844, they married. She was around 22 years old, hardened by forced labor and head injuries that left her with seizures and visions. He was a few years older, already accustomed to the limits freedom placed on a Black man in a slave society. Their marriage itself was a contradiction: a free man legally bound to an enslaved woman, a union that gave John no power to protect her and offered Harriet no escape.
For five years, they lived inside that tension.
Then came 1849.
Harriet made the decision that would sever her life in two. She chose herself. She chose freedom. She chose the North.
When Harriet fled slavery, she did not do so lightly. She left knowing the costāthat escape could mean permanent loss. Still, after securing her own freedom, she came back for John. This is often forgotten. The woman history remembers as fearless did not abandon her husband without trying.
But when she returned, John refused to go.
By then, he had taken another woman. Whether out of fear, comfort, or a belief that freedom in the North was a dangerous illusion, he chose to stay. Harriet could not. In that moment, their marriage endedānot with anger or drama, but with the quiet finality of two people walking in opposite directions through history.
Harriet Tubman went on to become one of the greatest liberators the world has ever known. John Tubman faded into obscurity.
Yet his story did not end peacefully.
In 1867, John Tubman was shot dead by a white man named Robert Vincent after a roadside quarrel. John left behind a widow and four children. Vincent was tried for murder and found not guilty by an all-white juryāa verdict that spoke less about the facts of the case and more about the value placed on Black life in postāCivil War America.
This may be the only photograph of John Tubmanāunconfirmed, uncertain, almost ghostlike. Fitting, perhaps, for a man remembered mainly in the shadow of a woman who refused to live one.
John Tubman represents the life Harriet left behind: the compromises, the limits, the dangers of staying. Their separation was not just a failed marriageāit was the dividing line between survival and liberation, between enduring bondage and daring to imagine something more.
History followed Harriet north.
John stayed where he was.
It's a very interesting and sad story considering the circumstances of their marriage, but also what transpired when Harriet left and then came back to find he'd been remarried, but also what happened to him years after, and what could've been of him had he followed Harriet.
It seemed like he brought into the illusion that since he was born a free man, he was different or had more privileges equal to those of a white man during those times.
I think he's a prime example of Black people during the Great Migration who didn't want to leave the South because they felt it was their home, despite all the extreme racism and violence against them that plagued the region during its time.