My grandma used to have a saying for when Black people in the public eye did something disgraceful: “They are setting us back!” I grew up to understand that there was a specific way to carry myself in this world as a Black woman that would, for the most part, keep me “safe.” But looking, acting, and dressing a certain way while Black does not protect you from systemic racism. I take what my grandma said with a grain of salt. I began my adulthood going the “safe,” “acceptable,” and “respectable” route. Then I started more and more to do what naturally felt like me, regardless of the judgment that is consistently put on Black women before we even open our mouths. We are often at the mercy of tokenism, which forces us to compete against each other because there are there’s only enough room for one black girl at a time in the white spotlight.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about role models and the people we are supposed to look up to. But the truth is, Black, Brown, White- people are gonna “People.” I’m grappling with the one side of my head that says “They’re setting us back” and the other side that says Black people are allowed to be just as flawed as white people. I understand the way the world was taught to see us through stereotypes, ones created to keep us down and make it easier to exploit us. That same conditioning influences how we see ourselves, which makes us harder on ourselves and each other.
At the end of the day It’s messed up, because I’m pretty sure white people don’t see a white person doing something stupid or dangerous and feel personally embarrassed by it. Or do they? As a white person reading this do you feel “Set back” by Jeffery Epstein? How about Bernie Madoff? The Sackler family? If yes please comment.
It just feels like we are already judged so harshly, and we have to be ten times as good as a white person to get anywhere. Then a few of us breakthrough in a major way, only to disappoint us by showing that they’re just another “Ninja” There’s too much pressure on us to be exceptional.
That pressure, though, is what makes us great. When we make it, we dominate. We are responsible for so much of American culture, and yet our history is consistently erased to make us believe we’re not valuable. But I know better. I feel it’s time to chill. I’m wanting to rest in my knowing that I am enough when I don’t go above and beyond. When I am just as regular and flawed as the next one.
It’s disheartening to watch powerful Black artists, who have risen to the top of their game, become just like the people who historically exploit and oppress their people. Cosby, R. Kelly, Russel Simmons, Diddy, Oprah, Jay-Z—names that are synonymous with success, talent, and influence.
The recent revelation of Nicki Minaj allegedly being scammed by TIDAL, a platform once proudly owned by Jay-Z, hits hard. It’s one of those moments where you sit back and question the whole idea of Black Excellence. What is it that we are celebrating when behind the scenes, our brightest stars are manipulated and misled by their peers?
As an artist who has poured her heart and soul into the entertainment world, these stories cut even deeper. I’ve been cheated by venues, exploited, scammed, stolen from and lied to throughout the course of my artistic life. Every time I’ve thought I was moving forward, I’ve faced a new betrayal, a new hurdle thrown in my path and its more hurtful when it’s from the ones who are supposed to be in the same fight as me.
It almost feels like a cruel joke. We strive for excellence, only to find that even at the pinnacle of success, we are still vulnerable. Still struggling with the same issues of trust, exploitation, and dishonesty that we hoped to rise above. When we look at figures like Nicki, who has carved a path for herself in an industry that so often tries to diminish Black women, the betrayal feels personal. It’s another reminder that maybe the systems aren’t built for us. Or worse, that even within our communities, the pursuit of power and profit corrupts what should be a collective rise.
Maybe “Black Excellence” is the wrong thing to celebrate. Maybe we need to focus on something deeper-something that goes beyond the surface-level markers of success like wealth, fame, or influence. Because what’s the point of excellence if it’s always tainted by scandal, deceit, or abuse? I’m looking for something pure, something that doesn’t crumble when you pull back the curtain. “Excellence”, at what cost?
It’s not just about Nicki or TIDAL. It’s a pattern we’ve seen play out too many times. The exploitation of artists, the cracks in the foundation of “success” are starting to show. We can’t afford to keep ignoring them.
It’s great to be Black. It is beautiful—our culture, our style, our history, our vibe. I wouldn’t want to be anything but this. The world and this country have come a long way, but we are still dealing with some of the last vestiges of archaic thought. Outdated ideas like “eating the cats, eating the dogs,” or even the concept of “Black jobs,” and the way religion works its way into politics—these things need to disappear into the void.
No matter how heavy the weight of it all feels—no matter how much it hangs on me—I won’t give up. I’ll keep creating, keep pushing, and keep fighting for what’s right. And I am working on my own healing through this. Healing myself from the trauma and allowing some grace for myself and my people that we don’t have to be perfect to be worthy. For something pure, something real, something that honors the true worth of our people.