Weight…

The world can be relentless…
In its expectations. It is unrelenting, not because there is a sole desire to see the good men fail,
but because it often seems that it’s easier to celebrate those who do nothing.
The one’s who we label, “Good Men,” live with a Mt. Everest sized mountain of weighted pressure to remain positive, ambitious, and dedicated to righting the wrongs of men from past generations.

And these daily pressures of fighting the good fight are not to be underestimated. For many, especially the Black Man, leaving home means sporting invisible armor, a shield to protect ourselves from the dangers schemin’ in the world. For clarity, this armor is not forged from steel but from resilience, determination, and an unwavering commitment to staying on the right path.

Because the struggles we face when we enter the world is the never-ending weight of racism, the temptations to hit a lick, or in dodging the minefield of folks who seek to sabotage the progress we’ve made. It’s exhausting, and when we return home we’re bruised and battered, with very little energy to fight another round.

Since day one, we’re taught to be strong. Told to never reveal our weaknesses, often resulting in many of us becoming volcanoes waiting to erupt from the years of unaddressed trauma. And the reason we fear vulnerability is from a deep rooted belief that showing our weaknesses tarnishing our image…to our wives, children, and anyone who’s rooting us on.

So…
As you can see its hard out here for a brotha, who simply strives to build something that’s bigger than ourselves. But as the saying goes, “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” and we understand neither will our empires. We will question some days, may even stumble, but we push forward. Because every day presents an opportunity…to fight again, to dismantle stereotypes, and slowly but surely build a legacy we hope will make the next generation fight less…

Just keep going bruh…