“The world is before you, and you need not take it or leave it or it was when you came in.” — James Baldwin

“The world is before you, and you need not take it or leave it or it was when you came in.” — James Baldwin

Back in my days at Fourah Bay College, where I studied English and Literature, many writers left their mark on my thinking — but James Baldwin’s voice was different. His words didn’t merely speak; they challenged, provoked, and stirred something deeper. I remember reading that line and feeling as though he was speaking directly to every dreamer who refuses to inherit the world passively.

Years later, as my path led me into activism, education, and technology, Baldwin’s words kept returning — as if echoing across time to remind me that our purpose is not to accept the world as we found it, but to reimagine it. To create. To disrupt the inertia of complacency.

That single line — “you need not take it or leave it or it was when you came in” — is more than prose; it is a philosophy of transformation. It has guided thinkers, builders, and innovators who dared to step beyond the familiar. From those who forged peace after conflict to those who built companies out of hardship, this belief—that the world is pliable in the hands of those who act with purpose—has always been the spark behind every meaningful revolution.

For me, it became a call to action during my journey from Sierra Leone’s civil war to global platforms advocating for youth, peace, and technology. It is what drives my belief that innovation is not born from comfort but from conviction — the conviction that even one idea, one act of courage, can tilt the world toward something better.

Baldwin’s words remind us that legacy is not about arrival, but about transformation — about what we dare to change before we leave

I’ve come to believe that our greatest responsibility is not simply to navigate the world as it is, but to transform it—to leave it better than we found it. From my early years in Sierra Leone, living through civil war and displacement, I saw firsthand what it means to overcome impossible odds. Amidst scarcity, chaos, and uncertainty, I discovered that resilience is built in the act of showing up, believing in possibility, and adding value wherever we can.

Some people will never understand the strength it takes to keep going when the world feels heavy—like a barricade mounted against you. But those who have lived through war, displacement, and the long road toward rebuilding—know. They know that perseverance isn’t a choice; it’s an act of faith.

I was born and raised in Sierra Leone, a country that, for much of my youth, was overshadowed by civil war. There were many days and months growing up hearing gunfire instead of morning bells. Yet even in the ashes of conflict, I saw sparks of possibility and glimmers of hope—young minds yearning to learn, to create, to reclaim their futures and their potential as productive citizens. That vision became my calling: to rebuild the minds of children and youth affected by war through creativity, technology, and education.

In those early days, we had nothing but conviction. I started with borrowed computers, then donated ones, and an unflinching belief that hope could be coded into opportunity. When power lines failed, we used candles, lamps, and generators to stir up our vision. When our voices were drowned out by chaos, we sang louder—through film, through music, through storytelling. I remember standing with young former child soldiers as we recorded songs about peace—songs that would later echo across radio stations and classrooms, carrying messages of reconciliation and renewal.

I founded the Sierra Leone chapter of the International Education and Resource Network in the Fall of 1999 and a decade after founded the B-Gifted Foundation. In all my efforts I have connected disadvantaged youth to global opportunities, and created ICT for peace projects, Digital Hope, bringing ICT tools to schools across Sierra Leone and creating global school twining opportunities. These projects weren’t just programs—they were lifelines, teaching students that their ideas mattered, that their voices could reach beyond borders, and that the world could respond when they dared to act. Through these initiatives, over 5,000 children and young people engaged in learning, creativity, and leadership for the first time, many rising from unimaginable circumstances to imagine a new future.

That journey led me far beyond the borders of Sierra Leone—to the halls of global institutions, to classrooms and conferences where the language of policy met the urgency of lived experience. In the United States, I found another kind of battlefield—not of bullets, but of bureaucracy and doubt. Here, the struggle was to be seen, to be understood, to prove that innovation born from scarcity is not weakness, but genius.

Yet each challenge refined my purpose. Every rejection letter, every closed door, became a reminder of why I started. My story was never just about survival—it was about reimagining what’s possible when faith meets action.

Today, as I build my startup, a platform designed to accelerate giving and generosity—I carry the same principles that guided me through war zones and refugee camps. My startup is not just a business venture; it is the continuation of a lifelong pursuit: to connect hearts, empower communities, and remind the world that generosity is the highest form of courage.

We live in a time when compassion often feels drowned by noise, when cynicism masquerades as wisdom. But I’ve seen firsthand that change begins when ordinary people do the extraordinary act of showing up. Whether in the ruins of Freetown or the streets of New York, resilience wears the same face—it’s the teacher who still shows up without pay, the dreamer who writes another grant after a dozen rejections, the immigrant who keeps believing even when the system says, “wait.”

To those fighting their unseen battles today: I see you. You are not weak for feeling weary; you are strong for standing anyway. Every step forward, no matter how small, is a declaration that you refuse to be defeated by the weight of the world.

When the World Feels Heavy—Keep Showing Up So, if you showed up today—if you fought through the struggle—I’m proud of you. Keep showing up. The world may not always applaud your resilience, but someday, someone will stand in the light of what you built and say, because they didn’t give up, I can begin.

And indeed, this is about discovering who you are meant to be—and leaving a lasting footprint in the world, inspiring others to rise, create, and shine—just as works like Fame have done, showing that one life, one effort, can echo far beyond itself.

By: Andrew Benson Greene 

Jeanne Sauvé Scholar McGill University. Montreal, Canada 2004/5

 

United Nations ITU Telecom World Digital Innovation Fellow - Geneva, Switzerland 2011

World Bank - World Ethics Forum Fellow. Keble College, Oxford University UK 2006