but there was a part of that story I left out.

maybe I blocked it out because, ultimately, it worked. but this week, as I’ve been watching what’s unfolding with the Sinners campaign, and someone on threads brought the painful moment back to my remembrance, I realize i had to tell you the rest.

the part I didn't tell you

after we had spent months pulling together the Strong Black Lead debut with 60+ talent, multiple shoots, press lined up, daily standups and all the internal resistance fought and survived. we were days away from airing our big moment at the BET Awards. and then I got a call.

my boss said: Netflix’s Chief Communications Officer had been fired for saying the N-word. on multiple occasions to staff and the news was about to hit the press.

in addition to the internal uproar, executives started calling me. maybe we should pull the campaign, they said.

what?!

here’s why: there was prominent Black talent involved in our campaign who had heard the news and they were appalled. there were concerns that people would think we’d put this campaign together to get ahead of the controversy. and there was worry that consumers wouldn’t understand production lead times and would assume this was a reactive PR move.

I was devastated. how could this happen? after everything we’d been through?

not only did we end up calling nearly every single Black talent involved personally to explain what happened and ask for their support. but now, as one of the few Black executives, I was dealing with the fallout internally, comforting Black employees and navigating the implications of what had just happened.

and ironically, the campaign that executives were skeptical about became the thing they used to show how much we cared about the Black audience and experience. we got through it and the good news is that the CEO at the time moved quickly.

but why did it have to be all of that?

what’s happening with the Sinners campaign

Sinners is a generational film and historic moment for the entertainment industry.

Ryan Coogler negotiated a deal most filmmakers could only dream of — first-dollar gross, final cut, and ownership of the film 25 years after its release. the film grossed $368 million worldwide on a $90 million budget. it received 16 Academy Award nominations — the most of any film in history. critics and audiences, for once, in complete agreement. a once in a lifetime moment.

And like wrote for us in December, in an industry designed to make Black creatives feel like there can only be one, where you’re not expected to walk through the door with anyone else, they keep showing up together — and Ryan has modeled two incredible collaborations, his wife by his side and Michael B. Jordan.

the combination of what he’s been able to accomplish has never happened, disrupts our beliefs about what’s possible and the system is big mad.

which is why it feels like at every turn, there’s an attack…

1. Variety ran a headline framing the film’s $61 million opening weekend — the biggest for an original film since 2019 — around the fact that “profitability remains a ways away.” Ben Stiller, Patrick Schwarzenegger, and Joe Russo all publicly called it out. Franklin Leonard pointed out that Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood made less on its opening weekend and Variety celebrated it.

2. Rolling Stone left Sinners off its top 20 films of the year entirely. so did Variety’s critics. for a film with a 97% Rotten Tomatoes score and $368 million in gross. even Simu Liu called it out publicly.

3. the Golden Globes. seven nominations. two wins — one for score that wasn’t even televised, handed out during a commercial break, and one for “Cinematic and Box Office Achievement,” a category that many interpreted as a consolation prize. shut out of every major category. Best Picture. Best Director. Best Actor. all of it.

4. this Sunday, at the BAFTAs — what should have been a night of historic celebration as Sinners set records — a man in the audience shouted the N-word while Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo were on stage presenting an award. it was broadcast on the BBC’s tape delay without being edited out. Delroy Lindo told Vanity Fair afterwards that he and Jordan “did what we had to do.” gut wrenching.

@a.jarrodjenkinsIf you think Variety is problematic, wait until you meet Jay Penske who owns it and almost all entertainment media #variety #rollingstone #jaypenske #deepdive #goldenglobes

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for visionary leaders, the blessing and the battle always arrive at the same time

for me, the pain of what happened during the SBL launch wasn’t the N-word incident itself. it wasn’t the executive calls. it wasn’t even the possibility that we’d have to pull a campaign we’d poured our souls into.

the deepest pain was that I didn’t see it coming.

if you are a visionary leader, a founder, a creative building something extraordinary — you have felt this. you have had the moment where the breakthrough is right there. you can see it. you can taste it. and then something devastating, confusing, enraging shows up at the last possible second, in addition to everything you’ve already endured.

and you may ask the same question I asked — why does it have to be like this? but that question is the trap. that misinterpretation will destroy you.

I’m not sure know where I was taught this, but I had a belief that blessings were supposed to come with ease. That if God called me to something, the path will clear. That if you’re in alignment, things will flow. That resistance means you’re off course. Chaos means something is wrong. Pain means you missed a turn.

this is simply not true.

you are a visionary leader. by definition, vision is the ability to see what should exist, what could exist and what must exist — and feel personally responsible for bringing it into reality. and the vision you received is not of your own when you’re doing it right.

In the same heavenly space that the vision came down to you to birth the project, there is an equal and opposing force that doesn’t want it to come to pass. it is going to fight like hell to do everything in its power to keep it from coming through and try and torture you in the process. and the resistance intensifies the closer you get to the breakthrough — not because something is going wrong, but because something is about to go very right. it’s vicious and it loves to hit where it hurts.

one of my favorite authors Steven Pressfield writes about this in The War of Art. He says: The danger is greatest when the finish line is in sight. At this point, Resistance knows we're about to beat it. It hits the panic button. It marshals one last assault and slams us with everything it's got.

My favorite book says it plainly in 1 Peter 4: dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.

this: do not be surprised.

Neither are saying ignore the pain of it. It hurts deeply. it’s offensive. and tbh, I wish it never had to happen. i wish life wasn’t designed this way, but it is. and as as visionary leaders, we have to stopped being surprised by the warfare that’s inevitably going to come when you bring that great work forward. i’ve learned to expect it now.

congratulations Ryan Coogler & the Sinners cast and crew

i’m not outraged by the injustices on this campaign…

instead, congratulations are in order.

Ryan Coogler, congratulations on a historic moment. for this breakthrough. for seeing the vision all the way through. i can’t imagine what you’ve had to endure to bring to this life. the late nights. the questions, the doubts, all of the problems you had to solve to get to this moment. thank you for your perseverance, grit and tenacity to show us a new way. congratulations Michael B. Jordan, Delroy Lindo, Wunmi Mosaku, Hannah Beachler and every person who made Sinners what it is. i see the as an indication that the intention of the work you visualized is disrupting exactly what it was meant to disrupt. can’t wait to watch you all make history at the Oscars 🤍

and for the rest of us visionary leaders who are called to bring forth things that move us forward, transform systems and disrupt the status quo:

expect it. prepare for it. armor up. and get to battle.

the vision outlives the resistance. it outlives the doubt. it outlives the people who tried to stop it. every single time.

sending you so much love,

m

last week while I was napping (rest ethic is strong!), I woke up to a text from a former direct report at Netflix — someone still on the editorial team we built together. he sent me an image: Happy Birthday, Strong Black Lead. One of the many editorial channels we launched while I was there. eight years later and almost 7 million people strong.

I sat there staring at my phone thinking, wow. look at it still going!

it brought me back to 2018, when we were trying to bring it to life. Most people would never know that almost everyone thought we were crazy — and nearly everyone, including the CEO, tried to stop it from happening.

bringing the unseen to the seen

When I was brought into Netflix in 2017, the mandate was clear: help us figure out how to market all these original titles coming down the pipeline. When I arrived, we had about 20 originals. That number was going to grow to 1,500 in four or five years, which was insane to think about.

early on, they asked: how are we going to market all these titles?

I said: you can’t. not in a traditional sense. there’s not enough capacity to promote each one individually. you’re going to need to build channels of distribution that aren’t based on titles — they need to be based on audiences, interests, and tastes. We’re going to have to build a media company inside Netflix to “cover” ourselves the way the press would. Think Buzzfeed meets Condé Nast, but built natively for social.

They said: you want to try and build it? Of course, I said yes.

when you’re building something new, I believe deeply in the power of a proof of concept. Us visionaries — we can see the great, grand promised land. but it requires a radical restraint to start small and go slow. You need one thing that represents what you’re ultimately trying to build. one thing to prove it’s possible.

for us, that one thing was Strong Black Lead.

we had a vision for so much more — channels for geeks, family, comedy, film connoisseurs, the hispanic community. But we had to start somewhere. I remember in a meeting, someone asked: Why the Black audience? Why not something else?

I said: Because I’m Black. I needed to start with something I knew instinctively, not just analytically.

here was the challenge and the insight: the Black audience at the time didn’t perceive Netflix to be a home for their stories. BET, OWN (Oprah — where I was before Netflix), ABC (Shondaland), FOX (Empire) — they were all beating us. But Netflix actually had more films, shows, and Black talent than everyone combined. Netflix was essentially the largest distributor of Black images on earth, but the audience didn’t feel that.

So our goal was simple: build an editorial channel that showed — in one place — the breadth and depth of our library, celebrated the talent inside our walls, kept you up to date on what’s new and Black on Netflix, and entertained the hell out of you through internet-first storytelling.

easy enough…except — audience-first storytelling had never happened at Netflix. everyone was mandated with promoting individual titles. One at a time. Start with the title, then market it to the world. We were doing the inverse: start with the audience, then think about the titles.

We soft-launched on February 18, 2018 to test our voice, try content ideas, and get the hang of things. Then we decided we needed a big coming-out moment to announce we were here.

thankfully, my two immediate bosses — Eric and Shauna — backed me (thank God for good leaders). They said: We’ll find the budget.

I said: Great. We’re going for a big :60 spot in the BET Awards, and I need something like a million dollars.

That was the great thing about Netflix — they wanted you to experiment and swing big. the team started jamming. we came up with this idea that gave us all chills. We started executing. everything was going well. And then it showed up.

Resistance. Ah. There you are.

you can see what they can’t see

First, the CMO: Hey, I heard you’re working on this brand-slash-audience-first idea. I know we say take bets, but we are a title-first marketing org. We don’t do audience work like this. It’s not a priority.

I said: I hear you. But I think this is going to be important for our future, so I’m going to keep moving forward with it.

Then, the Chief Content Officer: Hey, I heard you’re asking a lot of talent to get together for this campaign. I think it’s great, but I’m not sure it’s the right time — and even if it were, I’m not sure we have the right combination of talent.

I said: There are some people we want to get involved. Will you help me get them to a yes? He still didn’t believe it was the right thing to do.

After that, I bumped into the CEO in the cafeteria (he had no office). He said: Hey! I hear you’re spending millions of dollars on something that’s not going to work.

I said: Well… I think it’s going to work, or I wouldn’t be doing it.

He said: It’s not going to work.

Over the next few days, I couldn’t sleep. My stomach was in a knot. Netflix had said they offered freedom and responsibility for us to take our bets, but this felt like a trap. The next day, I ran into one of my bosses and told her: the top three C-level executives have told me this week to shut it down. Am I about to be fired?

She said: If it doesn’t work, you might be. But let me ask you this — are you willing to be fired for this? she wasn’t being dramatic.

And this is the moment every visionary leader has to come to terms with. there’s a moment when you know you saw something. You can see the thing that no one else can see. It doesn’t exist yet, and the reason it doesn’t exist is because you are the one meant to bring it forward.

As a visionary builder, you were created to be an answer to a problem. This is the heartbeat of visionary leadership — seeing what should exist, what’s trying to exist, and bringing it into reality. The more the resistance, the bigger the transformation.

And this moment of truth feels like torture because only you know. No one else has the vision. And you have to fight like hell not to let doubt touch it, or it becomes tainted and diminished. It can’t get into the foundation of what’s being planted.

3 things you have to understand as a visionary leader, creative or founder

if you are called to something, you have a supernatural operational capacity tied to bringing that vision forward. There’s an internal transformation and fortitude that activates in that moment — one that makes the impossible feel possible. But calling doesn’t come without cost. here’s what I’ve learned:

1. fall in love with being misunderstood.

you’re going to be misunderstood. Questioned. Doubted. And so much more. This is the nature of being a visionary — you were given a vision, not them. So you have to release the need to be understood. it’s sometimes lonely. Isolating. Unfair. You will look and seem crazy to pretty much everyone. But it’s only crazy until it happens.

2. change your relationship with resistance.

recognize resistance as confirmation, not contradiction. Increased pressure is actually evidence that the breakthrough has been activated. Resistance often intensifies right at the point of transition — not because something is going wrong, but because something is about to go very right. when it shows up, say: Hey. Welcome. I am building something extraordinary, and you can’t stop it.

At one point, I didn’t have a healthy relationship with resistance. It was something I worried about. Something I questioned. Now I know — the more resistance I experience when building something, the more it confirms I’m on the right path. That what I see is true.

3. Write the vision and make it plain — for yourself.

because no one else can really see what you see, you have to write down the vision and track your own evidence of becoming. All the time. even the strongest among us will doubt ourselves. Get confused. Sometimes say, “Why are we doing this again?” And no one will be able to confirm it except for you. so build in a practice of tracking how the vision is coming along. Big and small. Become your own witness.

it’s only crazy until it happens

Long story short? We crushed it. Strong Black Lead became one of the most successful brand campaigns in the history of Netflix and the catalyst for us to build out an entire global editorial function around the world that changed how Hollywood and entertainment marketed it’s shows forever.

I don’t think I would’ve actually gotten fired if it didn’t work. But it wasn’t really about that. It was about our belief. Did we really believe what we saw?

At the time, I never told our team that the executives were questioning it. I didn’t want it to impact their creative ideas. I didn’t want them creating from a place of striving or proving themselves. I wanted them to keep it pure.

Eight years later, almost 7 million people later, the team I no longer manage is still building what we started.

That’s the thing about something that’s real. It outlives the resistance. It outlives the doubt. It outlives the people who said it wouldn’t work. And that might be the greatest proof of a vision fulfilled — not that it worked, but that it kept going without you.

happy birthday, SBL!

sending you so much love,

m

P.S. you can watch our iconic BET Awards spot here. it STILL gives me chills.

This week we found out that our CEO was mentioned in the Epstein files. He’s made a public statement but there has been no internal communication about it—it’s like they’re pretending it’s not happening. I work with a lot of outside vendors and I’m embarrassed to be attached to the company. It’s on my LinkedIn. I’m not sure what to say if someone asks me about it and I feel like our leaders should address it? Should I leave? I don’t want to be associated with something like this. Am I crazy?

dear “my CEO is in the Epstein files,“

whew! ok. first, you’re totally not crazy. our leaders have completely lost the plot and unfortunately a lot of our CEOs are compromised in ways we couldn’t have imagined. it also bothered me SO much when companies addressed things externally before they talked to us internally. like hello, I literally represent you every day—talk to me!

but unfortunately, they care way more about managing external perception these days. the chief comms officer and CEO are working to mitigate anything internal to “not cause distractions.”

I can imagine the conversation right now...

Epstein CEO: Are people saying anything? What’s going on? What are people saying? (Because of course he’s paranoid and embarrassed. As he should be. also assuming “he” because duh).

Chief Comms Officer: We checked in with leaders across different levels. We did an audit of Slack and employee socials—internal conversation around this is low and increased by 2% in the last 24 hours. Best move is to not say anything and draw attention to it.

they’re hoping it blows over.

this is how a fear-based leader acts who is not sorry at all. one who doesn’t care about y’all and is only concerned with how things look and mad he got caught.

a good leader would address it. apologize for their actions. acknowledge how it’s affected you. recognize that you represent the company every day and that their goal should be for it to be something you’re proud of—and that he failed you. maybe even take some time away to reflect and to not create more distractions for the work that you all have to get done as you make him more money!

but that’s not what you’re getting. so here’s what you can do…

1. you can say something to your direct leader.

something like:

“I’m really disappointed that this isn’t being addressed internally. The actions of the CEO reflect on us and our ability to do business and build trust with our partners. I would appreciate him saying something to us—or leadership providing language that we can use if someone asks.”

part of the goal here is for you to always feel like you’re in integrity. don’t come into agreement with the corporate BS. You want to walk away knowing you did your part.

and the truth is—if enough of you say something internally, they’ll have no choice but to respond. because now it is the distraction they were hoping wouldn’t happen.

2. reminder — this job is not who you are.

it’s what you’re currently doing. it’s your current destination—not your identity. he does not represent you. you being there is not an indictment on your character.

most of our leaders are compromised these days, and we’re always going to find creeps wherever we work. that doesn’t mean you have to leave. if you have a strong value system, you feel confident in your ability to line something else up, and you want to bounce—by all means, go. but the next company probably has a compromised CEO too.

so it’s less about loyalty to the company and more about you doing great work, getting what you need from this place, and keeping it moving. this won’t be the last place you work.

unfortunately, we are in a time where it’s pretty dark. sometimes our job is to be the light in the darkness.

3. if your vendors bring it up...

say something like:

“His actions don’t represent me, and I [insert how you actually feel]. But I’m here to do a job and make sure you have what you need.”

and keep it moving.

every person you work with is a future collaborator, a future reference, a future opportunity. your reputation is built on how you do the work and the integrity you carry, not the name on the building.

hope that helps. and I’m really sorry that this yet another thing that you’re having to navigate at this time.

sending you so much love wherever u are,

m

p.s. have a question? submit it anonymously maya@ourbestwork.co.

other posts from Follow the Leader:

• 4 things you can to do tomorrow to not be a tone deaf leader

• I’m sorry you had to lay people off. Now here’s what to say (that you’re company doesn’t want you to say)

• Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart?

Follow The Leader is created for the people leaders who care about the people doing the work. If these insights resonate with you and you’re interested in bringing our expertise into your organization for speaking, workshops, or facilitation, reach out to maya@ourbestwork.co.

Today, there was some disturbing news— journalists Don Lemon and Georgia Fort, cofounder of BLM in Minnesota Trahern Crews and lobbyist Jamael Lydell Lundy—were arrested by federal agents this morning. Work that’s supposed to be protected by the First Amendment, but day by day it feels like that protection means less and less.

I’ll speak for myself: seeing the news triggered something in me deeper than normal. As a Black woman who’s seen what happens when people like me tell the truth, watching four people get arrested for doing their jobs—for truth-telling—hit different.

So I need you all to just sit with that for a minute. Take a deep breath and really let that in. Imagine how your Black, brown, and first-gen employees feel right now.

And as a reminder, you are responsible for stewarding their environment for about 70% of their time. You have an incredible responsibility right now and a lot of power to either add to their dysregulation or provide a space where maybe they can catch their breath for a second.

🗣️ There is no work that’s more important than the wellbeing of people.

You can’t solve all the big problems. But here’s what integrity looks like right now:

1. Don't perform empathy—provide actual relief by giving them time off. In these times there’s already so much people are carrying that having to ask for rest feels like another thing they have to initiate. So do it for them. Say something like, “I see what's happening. And I want you to know—you don't have to perform your way through this. Take the time you need.”

2. Strip everything down to essential work only. You know how the workplace can be—half the time we’re working on things that never come to fruition. Talk to your team about focusing exclusively on the essential stuff that has to get done. If necessary, sit down with each of them in a 1:1 and go over their priorities and their calendars. I used to do this with my team, and they would say, “But so-and-so said I have to be in the task force.” And I would go personally talk to that person or their leader and say, “Back off for a minute. That’s not a priority for us.”

3. If they’re participating in the national strike, protect them. Cover their work. Don’t ask questions. Don’t make them explain themselves. Shield them from retaliation—from your peers, from above, from anyone. This is what protection actually looks like.

4. Handle everything privately. Don’t ask them if they’re okay in a public forum. Don’t perform care in all-hands meetings. All of this needs to be handled one-on-one, with discretion and dignity.

5. Get aligned with the leaders who are horizontal to you. You all need to huddle and agree as a united front to protect your people right now. Get on the same page. Tell Jon in marketing to chill out for a second. Tell the VP of operations that your team is unavailable for their special project or push the meeting back a week. Stand together.

You might get pushback. You might face consequences. But you can either be a leader who chooses to protect the system or one that decides to protect their people.

Sending you so much love wherever you are,
m

Other posts from Follow the Leader:

• 4 things you can to do tomorrow to not be a tone deaf leader

• I’m sorry you had to lay people off. Now here’s what to say (that you’re company doesn’t want you to say)

• Why does everything feel like it’s falling apart?

Follow The Leader is created for the people leaders who care about serving people. If these insights resonate with you and you're interested in bringing our expertise into your organization for speaking, workshops, or facilitation, reach out to maya@ourbestwork.co.

you probably watched talented people… people you hired, people you advocated for, people who trusted you… log off their laptops for the last time. maybe you cried after. maybe you're still numb. maybe you're wondering if you should have done something differently. it’s one of the most brutal parts of people leadership, especially for those of us who actually care.

you didn't do anything wrong. and neither did they.

why there’s so many more layoffs today

here’s the truth about layoffs… Amazon just laid off 14,000 people. UPS cut 20,000. Citigroup is cutting 20,000. Google, Meta, Salesforce and the list goes on. this has never been about performance and people, it’s always about profit margins.

here's what keeps happening: during growth phases, companies pay top dollar for top talent. they need you to build the thing. once the thing is built and profitable, Wall Street wants to see those profit margins increase. and talent is the most expensive line item. so the top talent they attracted are first to go. because they don't need you anymore at that price. and they'll hire again. younger and cheaper. the cycle is getting more intense with AI accelerating this. jobs aren't coming back in the same numbers and the same form.

the most senior leaders won't say this explicitly. they'll talk about "market conditions" or "over-hiring" or "strategic realignment." the truth is simpler: they want to be more attractive to shareholders.

you are and have always been a line item on a spreadsheet.

you can't fix this. but you can tell the truth.

your job is not to make laid-off employees feel better. this is impossible. your job is to tell them the truth so they don't internalize a systemic failure as a personal one. you're not their savior. all you can hope is that you stewarded them well while they were there and that you can be a genuine resource for them after. put a reminder on your calendar to follow up with them in a week or two. just check in. you have no idea what a difference that makes. losing a job is in the top three most stressful life events, and in this economy it's devastating.

for the employees who were laid off, say something like this:

“this wasn’t about your performance. you are talented, valuable, and you did nothing wrong. this is about profit margins and shareholder value. the system is cutthroat, and it cuts people multiple times a year. we never know when it’s going to be our turn. i’m sorry this happened to you, and i’m here to support your transition however i can—references, introductions, whatever you need.

and for the employees who remain, your job is to tell them the truth that corporate jobs offer a false sense of stability and to make sure that each of them is getting what they need for this experience because no one is safe.

say something like this:

“i want to be honest with you. today, corporate jobs offer a false sense of stability. what happened to [names/team] could happen to any of us. i can't promise you that your job is safe, because i don't control that. what i can tell you is: get what you need from this experience. stack your money. build a safety net. set boundaries. take care of yourself and build your own narrative. don't wait for this place to take care of you. it won't.”

you can be the leader who protects the system, or you can be the leader who protects the people.

sending you so much love wherever you are,

m

One more thing…shame on every senior leader who doesn't care. shame on the ones who think people are disposable. shame on the ones who deliver the "tough decisions" talking points without flinching. you know what you're doing. and so does everyone else.

The world feels unbearably heavy right now. Tomorrow’s going to be hard for a lot of people. I know it might feel impossible for some of you.

If you’re leading people tomorrow, this is for you...

People are being murdered in the streets. Protests erupting across the nation. Historic snowstorms trapping families. I don’t care where you land politically—this is simply another brutal reminder that people aren’t okay.

And the last thing anyone cares about right now is filling out that spreadsheet, updating their status report, or hitting their Q1 targets.

So please. Don’t be the leader who walks into Monday pretending nothing is happening.

You don’t need a polished statement. You don’t need to ask everyone to process their feelings in a team meeting. That’s not what I’m suggesting.

But you do need to be human tomorrow.

And here’s the thing: you don’t have to lead people to be a leader tomorrow.

You don’t need answers. You don’t need a plan. You don’t need to rally the troops or inspire anyone through the chaos.

You just need to see people. And let them know you see them.

Here are four simple things you can do:

1. Acknowledge reality at the start of meetings

“Before we dive in, I just want to acknowledge that the world feels really heavy right now. If you’re distracted or not at your best today, that makes complete sense. Let’s do what we can and give each other grace.”

2. Ask how people actually are in your 1:1s

“Hey—how are you actually doing? Not the work stuff. You, as a person, with everything happening right now.”

3. Send a message that gives permission to be human

“Team—I know there’s a lot happening in the world that’s bigger than our work right now. If you need space today, take it. If you need to talk, my door’s open. We’ll figure out the work.”

4. Notice when someone seems off

“I noticed you seem a bit distant today. No pressure to share, but I want you to know I see you and I’m here if you need anything.”

That’s it.

You don’t need to fix it. You just need to acknowledge that your people are human beings living through something hard.

Because the leaders people remember aren’t the ones who kept the machine running during a crisis.

They’re the ones who saw them. Who paused. Who said, “I know this is hard.”

sending you so much love wherever you are,

m

Follow The Leader is created for the people leaders who care about serving people. If these insights resonate with you and you're interested in bringing our expertise into your organization for speaking, workshops, or facilitation, reach out to maya@ourbestwork.co.

When it’s your time, no one can stop it. And tbh, we love getting the awards, hardware and industry validation, but it’s never really about that.

It’s proof that we are right to believe and bet on ourselves.

We are who we think we are.

“To my brown sisters and little brown girls watching tonight, our softness is not a liability. Our depth is not too much. Our light does not need permission to shine. We belong in every room we walk into. Our voices matter and our dreams deserve space” - Teyana Taylor, 2026 Golden Globes acceptance speech

In case you missed it, you can read the original piece below ⬇️

Jacob Frey is calling bullshit.

On Wednesday, a woman was fatally shot by an ICE agent in Minneapolis. The Department of Homeland Security claims she attempted to “weaponize her vehicle” to hit law enforcement and labeled her actions “domestic terrorism.” DHS officials are calling it self-defense.

Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey watched the footage himself and had a different response:

“They are already trying to spin this as an action of self-defense. Having seen the film myself, I want to tell everybody directly: that is bullshit.”

Whether you see this as murder or self-defense, the result is the same: someone is dead. And when there’s a problem, the leader is the one who holds themselves accountable to being an answer. That’s what I’m seeing in Mayor Frey’s response.

As mayor—an elected official—public safety is one of his core responsibilities. This includes oversight of the police department and emergency response services, appointing leaders, and leading during crisis. If anybody has the right to call out an external entity operating in his city, it’s him. While ICE reports to the federal government, it also has a responsibility to collaborate with city leadership to preserve order and safety.

Frey made his position clear: “We do not want you here. Your stated reason for being in this city is to create some kind of safety, and you are doing exactly the opposite. People are being hurt. Families are being ripped apart….Now somebody is dead. That’s on you. And it’s also on you to leave. It’s on you to make sure that further damage, further loss of life and injury is not done. We’re going to be working towards justice as quickly as we possibly can, and justice is what we’ve all gotta get…“

If anyone is offended by this statement, you don’t understand his dilemma. This administration has presented itself as wanting to shrink government oversight—but its actions have suppressed power, particularly from local leaders who challenge federal overreach. To hear a leader call it out and exercise his authority is necessary.

You may be unsure what this has to do with your ability to exercise authority, but let me break it down. In my work, I’ve always had two jobs: the job I was responsible for—communications, marketing—and the job I was voted into: people leader. Not always by title, but often by influence. I was one of the people who cared about the impact that decisions, indecision, and lack of clarity had on others. I did the cleanup when a bully or anxious boss walked into the room like a tornado, wanting results but lacking the inner clarity and diplomacy to produce them. These leaders, consciously or unconsciously, undermine confidence and instill fear. At worst, they use intimidation tactics that leave teams feeling small and voices suppressed. This is the same kind of leader who puts you in a position, then undermines your authority to do the job. So this isn’t just about Jacob. It’s about us.

One of the biggest casualties when people don’t exercise their authority: the well-meaning, caring truth-tellers who stay silent out of fear. They think it will get better. That the behavior will get corrected. That the truth will surface eventually. But it won’t—not until somebody decides to say something. I remember working with a leader who caused division by weaponizing feedback we hadn’t given each other. One day, I called her out in front of everyone so the behavior would stop.

You can’t tolerate corrupt influence in your house. In your domain. On your team. It won’t get better on its own. It will only worsen if unchecked. Because what we don’t disrupt, we authorize, and we give it permission to become the culture. Once it becomes culture, it suppresses everyone’s authority. Truth-tellers stay silent. People with clarity doubt themselves. Those who care most end up doing cleanup, burning out, or quitting while corrupt influence continues operating freely.

Exercising authority isn’t about aggression or confrontation. It’s about clarity. It’s knowing your responsibility, watching the evidence yourself (like Frey did), and speaking directly: “This is bullshit. It needs to go.” You’re not attacking people—you’re naming the behavior, the influence, the spirit of what’s operating. We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against corrupt systems and powers that harm people. That clarity—that willingness to name what’s happening and demand it stops—begins to break the cycle. It gives others permission and encouragement to exercise their own authority. We all have it. Staying silent isn’t an option.

So you may not be Jacob Frey, dealing with federal overreach where stakes are life and death. But you have authority somewhere. Maybe in your home. Maybe at work—whether you have the title or you’re the person people turn to when things go sideways. Maybe as a citizen in your community. Wherever you have a domain, you have a voice. When you see something corrupt operating in that space, you don’t have to stay silent.

You can watch the evidence yourself. You can speak directly. You can say, “It needs to go.”

That’s not aggression. That’s authority. And it’s time to activate it.

On Sunday night, one of the best football games of the season unfolded between the Pittsburgh Steelers and Baltimore Ravens. I knew what was on the line—a close friend had broken down how the NFL playoffs work and how this game would determine the winner of the AFC North and home-field advantage. I was fighting sleep, not wanting my staying up to disrupt my morning routine, but the game was too good to miss. And it delivered.

In the fourth quarter, both teams traded points in record time. With the clock winding down, it all came down to the Ravens and a definitive field goal to win the most important game of their season. The man responsible for performing under the pressure of this moment was rookie kicker Tyler Loop. As I sat up in bed in those final seconds, heart racing along with the rest of America—whichever team you were rooting for—I watched as Tyler… missed.

It was unbelievable. Crushing, in some sense. I went to bed and woke up to discourse around the moment. Hate from disappointed Ravens fans whose playoff hopes had ended. Surprising support from other NFL athletes who understood the pressure of one play determining the course of a game, a season, a conference—especially for a rookie. And then I came across a response from Tyler himself.

When the media asked him about the moment—with a sense of manufactured curiosity, looking for a statement to further show how the rookie missed his moment or might be drowning in shame—Tyler was honest about the miss but convicted about his recovery. He talked about the 1-minute rule—the team’s standard for how long players allow themselves to dwell on a play before moving forward. He acknowledged that this one might hurt a little longer. Then he continued: “Ultimately I’m here to love on the guys around me and try and have their back, be a good teammate, be a good representative of the organization and steward the gifts I’ve been given… it’s such a fortunate thing to be here. Being placed in Baltimore with this team has been the biggest blessing of my life and I’m super grateful for it. Reminding myself that God’s got my back even when stuff sucks.”

Athletes have to face the media immediately after failure, but most of us face something worse—the relentless interrogation inside our own heads. We replay the moment, dissect the mistake, ask ourselves the same manufactured questions over and over: “How could you miss that? What’s wrong with you? What if you’d done it differently?” We become the discourse. We pile on ourselves worse than any comment section ever could. This is the internal loop—the one that keeps us hostage to past mistakes long after everyone else has moved on.

In my own life, the pressure isn’t on a stadium field, but the internal loop is just as real. What if I had picked a different career? What if I had stood up to that boss earlier? What if I had stopped being so passive about what I needed and spoken up for myself in that relationship? These aren’t public failures, but they’ve held me hostage in the same way—replaying the moment, questioning my choices, doubting my present authority because of past mistakes.

Tyler took that moment—one that could have been used as leverage to pile on shame from the world and from himself—and instead used it to clarify his purpose, his assignment, and express gratitude. He focused on his real work with the team and his responsibility to the unit. He affirmed the gifts he’s been stewarding. And he anchored himself in a higher authority. When he said “the next time I get on the field to kick a ball, it’s time to move on,” he was modeling what the Ravens’ 1-minute rule looks like in practice, not denying the pain, but refusing to let it become a prison.

Tyler’s response wasn’t just mature, it was spiritually disciplined. He had clarity about his real assignment: love his teammates, steward his gifts, represent the organization. He operated from community: his focus was on serving the unit, not protecting his reputation. And he maintained alignment with a higher authority: “God’s got my back even when stuff sucks.” This is what recovery looks like. Our capacity isn’t measured by perfection, it’s measured by our recovery time. How quickly can we return to our assignment after we stumble? How long do we let the mistake define us before we remember whose we are?

Your recovery time may not be 1 minute, or even 1 day right now. But how long will you let yourself stay hostage to past mistakes? 1 month? 1 year? Let the 1-minute rule be a challenge to the internal loop playing in your head: It’s time to move on, friend. Not because the mistake didn’t matter, but because dwelling on it doesn’t change it - and it keeps you from the assignment in front of you.

Because we’ve all been carrying a lot.

2025 will go down in the record books. As if we needed another year etched into history. We thought the pandemic years of 2020 and 2021 were the worst of it. Then came the aftermath and recovery of 2022 and 2023. I don’t think any of us imagined 2025 would feel heavier than five years ago. And yet, here we are.

I know many of us are looking for a reprieve and a pause from the weight of it all. And that makes sense. But history tells us something else. Every generation inherits a set of systems that shape how we see ourselves, relate to each other, how we work, and what we believe is possible. And we’ve been one of the most interesting sets of circumstances in human history.

Most people will spend their lives trying adapting to those systems, trying to succeed inside of them. But some of us feel the tension. We sense that the way things are isn’t the way they are meant to be.

That tension is our invitation. We can either be frustrated by it or embrace it. And if you’re part of this community, you already know which kind of people we are. We are living in a moment that demands a different kind of fortitude and resilience.

And for those of us who take our lives, our calling, and our assignments seriously, these are the mindsets, moves, and behaviors we’re carrying forward into 2026 — and the ones we’re no longer willing to tolerate.

IN: Understanding the gift of pain

OUT: Interpreting pain as proof we’re powerless

Most of us were conditioned to see pain as a problem to eliminate or a sign that something has gone wrong. The instinct is to avoid it, numb it, or rush past it as quickly as possible. But pain is one of the most honest signals we ever receive.

Just like pain in the body tells us where healing is needed, pain in our lives points to something unfinished, underdeveloped, or asking to be restored. The mindset shift is learning to stop asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and start asking, “Where is this trying to lead me?” The mistake we’ve learned to make is treating pain as evidence of failure, instead of recognizing it as evidence that something meaningful is trying to come through us.

Pain is the doorway to our greatest work. Pain is the prerequisite for power. It’s shaped in the places where we were stretched, disappointed, overlooked, or brought to the end of ourselves. When we understand pain this way, it stops being something to resent and becomes something to learn from. Something to steward.

This is the shift from resenting our pain to becoming responsible for what it produces. We’re choosing to not linger in it longer than we need to, but instead learn from it. And in learning, we gain the ability to recognize, care for, and walk with others through the very places we once needed help ourselves.

IN: A self-leadership ethic

OUT: Waiting for our leaders to figure it out

No one is coming to save us. We can learn from everyone. But we can’t let everyone lead us.

We’re living in a moment where the old scripts no longer work. We are waking up faster than the structures designed to hold them. And one of the most visible breakdowns across all of it is leadership. We are in an epidemic of terrible leadership. We keep placing people in positions of authority who were never trained, equipped, or meant to lead us well. And in a world where work is still done through people, our inability to lead each other with care, clarity, and conviction has real consequences.

Waiting for better leaders to rise keeps us passive. If we want a new world, we have to become the kind of people who can sustain it. People who lead differently. Build differently. Relate differently. And that begins with self-leadership.

At its core, self-leadership is the development of the mindsets, practices, and internal conditions required to lead ourselves in service of something bigger than us. It is not hyper-individualism, self-help or self-absorption. It’s the capacity to move with clarity, responsibility, and alignment even when there is no script to follow and no one handing out permission.

There is no leader or system that can tell us why we’re here or what we’re here to do. We have to learn to lead ourselves in a world that would prefer us to stay dependent. We don’t need someone to hand us the answers. We need the context to trust ourselves. The truth is, we are way more capable than we’ve been allowed to believe.

IN: Creators telling the radical truth of the journey

OUT: Influencers who romanticize the journey

The most radical thing any of us can do right now is tell the radical truth about our experience.

We’re done with polish masquerading as wisdom. We are SO over influencers hiding behind an illusion that bears little resemblance to real life or real work. As we move into 2026, we all have to be way more honest about the cost of what this takes. We have to be willing to really show ourselves actually doing the work.

We’re at a crossroads where we can no longer afford to hide behind aesthetics or aspiration. Life is hard. Our futures are at risk. And glamorizing the journey isn’t helping any of us.

If we want to build something that lasts, we have to be willing to name what it actually takes. Because no one is coming to save us. And pretending otherwise only delays the work.

The creators we will be drawn to are the ones willing to tell the truth about the doubt, the discipline, and the detours it takes to build something meaningful. We won’t pretend the path is easy. We will make it legible and offer real context by showing what’s possible by illuminating what it actually requires. And in doing so, we give people permission to stay in the work long enough to start seeing results that build conviction.

IN: Potency

OUT: Popularity

Somewhere along the way, we started confusing being seen with actually making an impact. Some of us chased attention. Or became obsessed with numbers and metrics. We tried to be everywhere at once and wanted to be in every room. And a lot of us ended up spread thin, tired, and wondering why none of it felt as meaningful as we hoped.

We’re moving differently now.

Potency isn’t about being visible all the time. It’s not trying to keep up with every trend or jump on every opportunity. It’s slower than that. Quieter. More intentional. And honestly, it takes more courage. Because it means caring less about being liked and more about being true.

This year, we’re choosing depth over breadth and substance over signal. We’re going deeper into the thing that’s actually ours instead of trying to do ten things halfway. We’re getting better at our craft and focusing on mastery of ourselves. Clearer about what we believe. More disciplined about when we speak and why.

Popularity fades. We’ve all seen that. But potency lasts. Especially in a moment where trust feels fragile everywhere. So we’re leaving behind the pressure to be everywhere, to be liked by everyone and to constantly perform. The work ahead doesn’t need more noise, it needs something that we can build our lives on, not just look at.

IN: Clarity

OUT: Living in perpetual distraction

We’re not tolerating distraction anymore. Distraction keeps us busy without being present. From the beginning, we were trained to stay occupied. The moment we slow down long enough to think for ourselves, the world rushes in to pull us back out of it.

Distraction is profitable. The less connected we are to our own thoughts, the easier it is for other people to tell us who to be, what to want, and how to measure our life. That’s why the noise never stops. More scrolling, new algorithms, endless alerts, more jarring headlines and opinions. 24/7 noise. The goal isn’t just to capture our attention. It’s to keep us from ever sitting with ourselves long enough to hear what’s true.

But next year we’re choosing clarity.

Clarity requires radical presence. It means turning down the volume long enough to notice what’s actually happening inside us. Clarity comes from paying attention to the patterns in our life. The things we keep circling. The moments when we feel most alive. The work that asks something of us and gives something back. When we’re clear, we move different. We make cleaner decisions and we stop chasing what doesn’t matter.

We don’t have time to be distracted. We have real work to do and real problems to solve.

IN: Proximity to people who elevate our belief and vision

OUT: Proximity to gossip, chronic criticism, and misalignment

We’re not tolerating environments that pull us into a smaller version of ourselves.

This doesn’t mean we stop loving people. We can still be kind. We can still want others to do well. We can still hold respect and care. But we have to be honest about something: we cannot become who we’re meant to become while staying closely tethered to people who constantly pull us backward.

The stakes are too high.

Behind nearly every person who reaches alignment and full expression, there is at least one other person who helped them believe it was possible. It doesn’t take a crowd. It takes one person who is equally committed to your becoming. Someone who mirrors who you are today, not who you used to be. Someone who holds you to that standard when you forget it yourself. Someone who can see clearly when doubt, fear, or fatigue sets in.

Great work doesn’t grow in isolation, but it also doesn’t grow in every environment. It grows in the context and intimacy of relationships. That means we have to be more discerning about who gets proximity. Not everyone can carry the weight of your becoming. Those who gossip, chronically criticize, resent us or live in misalignment aren’t harmless. We are what we consume. They slowly pull us back toward what’s familiar instead of forward into what’s possible.

We will rise to whoever we surround ourselves with. And moving forward, we’re choosing to be intentional about who gets to walk with us.

But this week we rest in front of the fire, let our minds wander and prepare for the best year of our lives. cheers to 2026 being the year when everything changed.

sending you so much love,

m

In case you missed it…

• For the Creative Who’s Burned Out on Performance Culture

• 9 Essential Docs to Watch Before the End of 2025

• What I Hope We’ll Carry Into 2025 (And Leave Behind)

Wherever you are, there’s a story here that meets you.

BEFORE THE BREAKTHROUGH

Docs to remind you that big ideas start in small rooms.

HITSVILLE: THE MAKING OF MOTOWN — For those of us building a new system.

Where To Watch: Paramount Plus

In the late 1950s, before the Civil Rights Act banned segregation, before the Voting Rights Act ensured all Americans had the right to vote, and before Martin had a dream, a 27-year-old working in the factory for Ford Motor Company decided to quit his job and focus on making music. Taking what he’d learned from the assembly line and an $800 loan from his family, he purchased a home in Detroit that would become Motown—headquarters for one of the most important record labels in history. Alongside Smokey Robinson and a small team of incredible writers and musicians, they built a best-in-class system that produced incredible artists like The Supremes, The Temptations, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, and the Jackson 5. The doc is an incredible watch for anyone feeling like the current systems are failing us. It reminds you that there was a time when people had to build what they’d never seen exist. As Motown’s first head of A&R put it: “It was all a divine movement for a purpose. To let other talented people know you don’t have to suffer under the system. Create for yourself. So Motown became a model.”

SELENA Y LOS DINOS — For those of us wondering when all this effort will finally add up.

Where To Watch: Netflix

Selena y Los Dinos is a reminder that greatness is rarely sudden — it’s practiced. What stays with you is not just Selena’s talent, but the sheer number of repetitions it took for her voice, her sound, her style, and even her movement to become undeniable. You watch her grow in real time, shaped by countless performances, long drives, small stages, and the quiet discipline of showing up again and again. The same is true of everyone around her — her family, her band, her collaborators — each putting in the work before anyone was watching. The documentary gently reframes “breakthrough” as accumulation, offering reassurance that what can feel like delay or obscurity is often the very process that makes a gift unmistakable when the moment finally arrives.

JEENYUHS: A KANYE TRILOGY — For those of us doing the work before the world watches.

Where To Watch: Netflix

One of my favorite docs of the last decade, Jeen-yuhs gives us a rare glimpse into the messy and magnificent journey of becoming great before the world catches on. Before the controversial artist known as Ye, there was Kanye—an awkward kid with braces from Chicago who dared to believe in himself, his music, and his story. This epic three-episode saga chronicles Kanye’s 8-year journey in the music scene that led to his debut album The College Dropout, his bond with his mother, the late Donda West, and the complicated nature of what fame and rejection can do to us. But what’s often overlooked is the resilient and empathetic storytelling of his longtime friend Coodie Simmons. Coodie had the foresight to pick up a camera and preserve intimate footage of Kanye well before Netflix started making original content. For over 20 years, throughout the course of their enduring and sometimes complicated relationship, Coodie captured over 267 hours of footage, which he and his creative partner Chike Ozah were unsure would ever see the light of day. Coodie (and Kanye’s) story is an example of doing the work before the world takes notice and a reminder that the platforms that will amplify your work may not even exist yet.

THE PIVOT POINT

Docs to help you get through the messy middle.

IN THE ARENA: SERENA WILLIAMS — For those of us who need joy in a world that keeps trying to take it.

Where To Watch: Hulu

Serena: In the Arena is an eight-episode ESPN documentary series that offers a deeply personal and chronological look at Serena Williams’s 27-year tennis career, from the public courts of Compton to becoming one of the most dominant athletes in history. It’s so much more than just a chronicle of dominance; it’s bearing witness to what it looks like to keep choosing joy even when the pressure never lets up. What stayed with me wasn’t just the winning, it was the insistence on finding pleasure in the process when the stakes feel unfairly high, and the margin for error feels impossibly small. The series quietly reminds us that difficulty does not disqualify joy — and that resilience is more than endurance. It’s also refusing to let hardship steal the thing that brings you life.

MARTHA — For those of us weighed down by an image that’s no longer serving us.

Where To Watch: Netflix

Martha Stewart is an American icon. She used her knack for homemaking and entertaining to turn herself into a media empire and became a self-made billionaire in 1999, before creator-led brands were a thing. She represented an aspirational, almost unattainable image of domestic excellence—one rooted in the impossibly high standards her critical father placed on her. And it almost crushed her. The price of perfection? Five months in prison for lying to investigators about insider trading.

But even in prison, Martha found productive pursuits: cooking hors d’oeuvres out of commissary items, making ceramics, scrubbing floors. This is where Martha went from good to great for me. There was something about her during and after prison that felt like a weight had lifted. She no longer had to be perfect. She could focus her genius on making something out of nothing, not making the perfect thing. On what she could create, not what she had to maintain.

Post-prison, Martha finally got her swag. She roasted Justin Bieber, co-starred in a cooking show with Snoop Dogg, and covered Sports Illustrated at 81. Her authenticity resonated with an even younger audience, expanding her reach. The doc shows us the power of the second act—the one on the other side of performing. Sometimes the fall is what finally sets you free.

LIFE IS BUT A DREAM — For those of us who need to make a change.

Where To Watch: Prime or YouTube

Life is But A Dream meets Beyoncé at a key inflection point in her career. She’d just finished riding the wave of her most commercially successful album and tour up to that point (I Am Sasha Fierce) and the subsequent stress that comes with the need to keep up with that. The doc starts with her explaining how chasing that sort of fame had begun to cripple her creativity. She realized the path she was on was no longer working for her – the cost was too high. “It wasn’t enough. You can’t express yourself. You can’t grow,” she says at the start of the doc. So she decided to change course and set a goal of independence. “I don’t care if I don’t sell one record. It’s bigger than the record. It’s bigger than my career,” she says.

So she let go of her dad as manager, took control of her own company, and embarked on the journey of deciding the kind of artist she truly wanted to be. I love this doc because it follows her shift from popularity to potency. Her quest to create her best work and the resulting fruits of that labor – her purest, most soulful album, 4, the 2011 Billboard Awards performance that signalled her elevation as a live entertainer, and her journey to motherhood. We get to watch her figure out the problems in music she wants to be an answer to (“people don’t listen to a body of work anymore”), assert her desire to empower women through her art and through her own self-leadership, learn to trust her taste, and surrender to her God.

This doc gets better with age because we get to bear witness to all of this knowing just how much betting on herself worked out for her. It’s a vulnerable snapshot of resilience and the pain you must endure on the journey to trusting yourself. A portrait of a woman on the verge of groundbreaking greatness, making the decisions that put her on the path to becoming the legendary artist we see today. It’s a timely reminder to all of us of the kind of blind faith necessary on the path to our best work.

BUILDING FOR THE LONG GAME

Docs to remind you that greatness takes time.

BARBARA WALTERS: “TELL ME EVERYTHING” — For those of us building up the courage to ask the hard questions.

Where to Watch: Hulu

The Barbara Walters documentary on Hulu is essential viewing for creatives building toward longevity rather than chasing momentary relevance. What makes it so instructive is how clearly it traces the mechanics behind her success: obsessive preparation, emotional intelligence, and a willingness to sit in discomfort long enough to ask the questions others avoided. Walters didn’t rely on charm alone—she studied her subjects, anticipated the room, and treated interviewing as both an art and a discipline.

For leaders and creatives, the film reframes ambition as endurance. You see how she navigated skepticism, gendered criticism, and institutional resistance without abandoning her voice, choosing instead to sharpen it. She understood that trust is earned, curiosity is essential, and longevity requires constant evolution. Central to her journey was a deep sense of self-trust—her conviction that celebrities could be legitimate newsmakers allowed her to pioneer a lane that would ultimately become her legacy and open doors for countless others. Walters’ career is a reminder that excellence is rarely accidental; it’s built through curiosity, courage, and an almost stubborn commitment to craft.

IN VOGUE: THE 90s — For those of us wondering if their best work is behind them.

Where To Watch: Hulu

In Vogue: The 90s is a quiet masterclass in what it actually takes to build a cultural institution. What stands out isn’t just the clothes or the moments, but watching Anna Wintour step fully into the work of her life — bringing together people she admired, trusted, and respected. Vogue wasn’t built by raw ambition or early momentum. It couldn’t have been built by twenty-somethings. It required taste refined over time, conviction earned through risk, and the discernment that comes from seeing cycles repeat — knowing what lasts, when to take a risk, and when to hold the line. The series reframes success as a long game, offering a quiet reassurance that what can feel like delay is often preparation for the work that finally warrants everything you’ve learned.

THE BLACK GODFATHER — For those that of us need evidence that the best legacies are built through collaboration and mentorship.

Where To Watch: Netflix

The Black Godfather is a masterclass in leadership that’s rooted not in spotlight-seeking, but in strategic collaboration and the vitalness of community on the path to greatness. Clarence Avant didn’t just open doors for himself – he built a web of relationships designed to pull others through, creating a quiet but powerful pattern of mentorship that outpaced what traditional systems ever taught or offered rising black leaders. The documentary reveals how real influence is cultivated behind the scenes: through trust, information sharing, and a long-term view of success that includes everyone at the table. Avant’s legacy reveals that when institutions fall short, intentional mentorship and coalition-building can become an alternative curriculum – one that teaches power, protection, and possibility all at once.

Currently…

… studying the art of Olivia Dean’s self-mastery.

Olivia Dean emerged as one of the most compelling creatives in music this year, with the release of her album The Art of Loving serving as both a commercial and artistic milestone. While it wasn’t a debut—she’d already released multiple EPs and a previous studio album—the project catapulted the British artist to stateside notoriety and became an introduction for many of us to the 26-year-old rising singer.

What I love most about the album’s success is how thoroughly it rejects the standard formula for pop stardom. In an era defined by maximalism and urgency, Dean leans into subtlety—allowing her voice, storytelling, and musical choices to breathe. Her songwriting favors clarity over cleverness, depth over drama, and sincerity over spectacle, resulting in music that approaches love with rare emotional intelligence. She refused the toxic, lust-driven, and insecurity-soaked narratives that dominate so much of the Hot 100 and instead made music for a more authentic, self-assured place. Her confidence in who she is allowed her to make an album with a clear point of view. “I would never write a song if it wasn’t something that actually happened to me,” she said in an interview with Nylon. “I do it for the feeling of the documentary-ness of it. I do it so that I can listen back to it in 10 years and be like, ‘OK, that was about that time in my life.’ That’s interesting to me.”

Olivia is also clear on her process and understanding the environment necessary for her to create her best work. While recording the album she moved into a grand house in East London and transformed it into the live-work studio of her dreams for eight weeks. She filled the place with instruments from home, plants, flowers, and her favorite books – including one of the album’s big influences, bell hooks’ classic All About Love.

For creatives, there’s a lot that can be learned from the way Olivia’s clear vision and security in her taste resulted in art so sincere the masses can’t help but connect to it. The album still hit every major commercial benchmark despite prioritizing potency over popularity: viral moments across TikTok and Instagram, breathtaking live performance videos everywhere from COLORS to Saturday Night Live, interviews with nearly every major media outlet, a coveted Best New Artist Grammy nomination, and a sold-out tour. And throughout it all, Dean hasn’t let success get to her head, aligning always more as an artist than a celebrity. She’s remained grounded, grateful, and deeply aligned with her fans—most notably demonstrated by her successful push to get Ticketmaster to secure refunds for fans who paid above face value for tickets to her upcoming tour and agree to cap all future ticket resale prices at face value.

Olivia Dean reflects a creative who understands the audience she’s leading and trusts her instincts over industry metrics. By not caving to conformity, she’s carved out a lane entirely her own—one that feels both intentional and deservingly fast-tracked to success. May that be a lesson we all take into the new year. – Sylvia Obell

…paying attention to Jewel Burks Solomon doing the kind of work our economy cannot afford to lose.

In a year marked by a concerted backlash against DEI initiatives and tightening capital markets, access to funding for Black founders has become even more constrained. More than 300,000 Black women have lost their jobs in the last year, pushing many toward entrepreneurship as a means of survival and stability. But Black founders, broadly counted, receive less than 0.5% of total U.S. venture capital dollars. That razor-thin slice of capital makes the existence and direction of Jewel’s Collab Capital firm all the more consequential.

As co-founder, Jewel isn’t just writing checks — she’s redirecting leverage. With more than $125 million in assets under management and a freshly raised second fund of $75 million this June, Collab isn’t playing at the margins. The firm makes meaningful check sizes — often $1–2 million — to fuel founders’ dreams with real runway and real intent behind them. The work she’s doing isn’t just important – it’s the kind of leadership that’s vital to the survival of our economy.

What distinguishes Jewel’s leadership is how she sees the work. Her philosophy — “fall in love with the problem you’re trying to solve, not just the answer” — shifts the focus away from short-term market whims and toward the underlying conditions that have historically shut founders of color out of capital flows. She’s strategically deploying capital into the future of work, economic mobility, community infrastructure, and care economies — areas that are often dismissed as “soft,” yet are foundational to shared prosperity. In an industry obsessed with speed, notoriety, and extraction, Collab’s approach is disciplined, patient, and deeply intentional.

What makes this moment especially compelling is how quietly she’s building influence. No loud self-promotion. No spectacle. Just results — real funding reaching real founders whose businesses and communities stand to benefit directly. Most people may never know her name, but many will feel the impact of her decisions — through the companies that survive, the jobs that are created, and the economic opportunities that get unlocked because someone made sure the money reached the right hands. - Maya Watson

...choosing to follow LaRussell’s Law of 100.

Chance the Rapper made being an independent artist cool. And Bay area artist LaRussell is turning it into a movement. I was first put on to him last year when Maya made me watch his appearance on TinyDesk. His energy jumped off the screen - immediately relatable, easy to root for. And this year, he kept giving us reasons to keep watching. One memorable clip was what I’m calling LaRussell’s Law of 100.

“If you start a podcast and sit down and do 100 episodes, your life will be different than when you were at 0. You sit down writing and make 100 songs, your life will be different than when you were at 0. 100 pieces of content…go do 100 of something before you start complaining.” It made so much sense in this era of consuming more than we create and is exactly the kind of cultivation ethic that’s required going into 2026. We have to get back to process, to practice, to the love of inputs over outcomes. LaRussell’s gift of cultivating is paying off big and not just for himself.

This year, he released seven albums and offered fans not only intimate access to his backyard style shows, but equity in the sale of his music and documentary projects. Who else do you know that’s allowing fans, who spend so much on their favorite artists, to also experience the upside of their investment? LaRussell is leading the way and representing what we expect to see more of in a time where trust in systems is declining and people are turning inward. He is doubling down on building a community based on depth and not breadth. Proof of this? After a fan who attended one of his backyard events became the head of marketing at the San Francisco Giants, they tapped LaRussell to record an anthem for the team. Now that’s what you call Good Compenny. - Kevin Stuckey

…watching Natalie Manuel Lee build one of the most important sanctuaries in culture.

In a year where everyone seems to be searching for something — meaning, grounding, faith, truth, relief — Natalie has been steadily constructing an arena where those questions are allowed to breathe. Now With Natalie isn’t trying to be flashy or force relevance. It’s doing something far rarer: creating a beautiful, intentional space where faith and culture are allowed to coexist without dilution, performance, or fear.

What stands out most about Natalie’s work isn’t just who she brings into the room, though the consistency and caliber of her guests are undeniable – from an exclusive conversation with Sarah Jakes Roberts (arguably the most influential woman in modern Christianity) to Essence Atkins speaking with striking clarity and conviction (my personal favorite this year) – but the way she curates conversations that feel grounded, reverent, and alive. The aesthetic is thoughtful. The tone is calm. The intention is clear.

As someone who is actively growing in my own faith — and fighting to stay in integrity in a world that wants you to drift — her space has become a refuge for me. Not a place of answers, but a place where belief is explored honestly, with depth, humility, and care. That matters more than ever right now. And in that way, she is quietly becoming an answer to something I realized many of us creatives need right now. There’s something profound unfolding here. And if the depth, care, and integrity she’s shown this year are any indication, this is only the beginning. - MW

...celebrating Ryan Coogler for proving the biggest sin is becoming great alone.

It’s been over a decade since Ryan Coogler made his directorial debut with his Sundance award-winning film Fruitvale Station starring Michael B. Jordan. This year, his fifth film Sinners became the highest-grossing film of the year with an original screenplay. In a time where studios are playing it safe and betting on existing IP, Ryan bet on himself and brokered a one-of-a-kind deal: full creative control with final cut, immediate box office revenue shares starting when the first dollar is made, and ownership of the film’s rights reverting back to him after 25 years. It’s unheard of—a significant move for creative freedom and Black ownership, themes woven throughout the film itself.

But what’s been even more powerful to watch is how his brotherhood and creative partnership with Michael B. Jordan has grown alongside their collective commercial and critical acclaim. Coogler tapped Jordan to star in his next movie Creed, a spinoff of the infamous Rocky films, and went on to become its own three-film franchise. All of which starred Jordan. Next, he chose Jordan to play opposite Chadwick Boseman in Black Panther, which became the highest-grossing solo superhero film ever, and the first and only Marvel film to receive a Best Picture nomination. And now, the success of Sinners has the duo leading the major Hollywood award cycles for 2025-2026.

It’s refreshing to see a bond like this that continues to yield success. Although Ryan and Jordan aren’t related, it feels like family business—a dynamic we see in collaborations like Spike Lee and Denzel Washington or Ava DuVernay and David Oyelowo, who just announced their third film together. In an industry designed to make Black creatives feel like there can only be one, where you’re not expected to walk through the door with anyone else, they keep showing up together. These kinds of partnerships are a reminder that no one becomes great alone. That in collaboration, we are challenged, sharpened, and celebrated. Our greatness grows through relationships and when faced with hardship, it’s partnership that helps us endure. As Coogler stated in a tribute to Michael at the 39th annual American Cinematheque Awards: “I’ll be forever grateful with him that he shares his truth with me and my projects, that he shares his truth with the audience: that we all are human and that even the brightest stars start from the ground up…So i just wanna say thank you bro for always trusting me.” That’s not just pleasantry. That’s the fruit of collaboration and the kind of honoring each other that’s required to do our best work. And we need more of it. - KS

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and I’m not talking about Christmas. At least that’s not the main event if you’re the unfulfilled creative who has spent the last year keeping the world cool, aligned, and fighting for what to care or not to care about. I’m talking to the voice of truth in the room who has probably been working overtime to maintain some ounce of integrity and humanity while everyone else in the virtual office carries on like it’s business as usual – projecting stoicism to keep from falling apart while the world feels like it’s falling apart around us.

Trust me. I know what it feels like. I spent 15 years in PR where I prided myself on being the person who could connect the dots between consumerism and impact. Between profit and purpose. But after a while, it just felt exhausting. Like I was spending all this energy trying to make something be true instead of just aligning myself with a place (and a mission) where it was already true.

I had tried everything to feel like things were okay—hired a trainer, attended retreats in Mexico, spent more time with family. I was even working with a mental health coach. But nothing was helping. I wasn’t motivated to get out of bed, let alone think about my future. The deeper question I kept asking myself wasn’t just “is this working?” but “does it even matter that I’m here?”

So if you’ve felt that way before or even now: You’re not crazy. Something is off.

The Most Wonderful Time

So what’s the most wonderful time of the year I’m talking about? These last two weeks of the year.

This is when the world does what you might be too afraid to do the rest of the year: it stops. Clients are off. Talent is on vacation. The media coverage slows down. The machine that normally demands your constant attention finally goes quiet. And because everyone else is doing it, there’s not as much resistance as there normally is. There’s collective permission to pause.

I’ve experienced this kind of pause on different scales—from a single day off to these two weeks at year’s end to the two years I spent after leaving my job at Netflix. What they all share is the same opportunity to rest—from working, from worrying, and from wanting.

When I left Netflix two years ago, I had to learn what each of these actually meant. You don’t need two years to start—these next two weeks are enough to begin.

Rest from Working

Rest from working meant putting down anything that felt like work. Anything that felt forced or required angst, a feeling I used to think meant I’d earned my keep for that day. I can’t believe how much time and energy I wasted doing things that were not actually my work. Debating over the politics of who gets invited to a press junket. Volunteering on DEI task forces that would never have been needed if my colleagues had been more curious about the consumers we were serving and more inclusive in their hiring practices. Responding to emails and Slack pings that weren’t really urgent but were a reflection of my manager’s inability to control her own anxiety.

For you, these next two weeks are a chance to start noticing what’s actually your work and what isn’t. What are you doing out of obligation versus what’s naturally pulling you? What gives you energy versus what drains you? You don’t have to quit anything yet. Just pay attention and write it down.

Rest from Worrying

Figuring out how to rest from worrying was much harder. I was someone who, up until then, was probably in denial about the repetitiveness of my anxiety. Partially because I worked in a career like PR, where we ate anxiety for breakfast. But after leaving my job, there was something real to be anxious about: not getting a paycheck. Up until that point I had made well over six figures, so I was used to a monthly income that left room for plenty of leisure and savings. Without a paycheck coming in, I was worried about how long the savings would last. The emergency fund. The 401K. The credit card debt.

The only way I could survive was to stay in the day. Whenever I would find myself thinking about what would happen next month, I brought myself back to this verse: “Do not worry about tomorrow.” It became a mandate. A survival tactic. Over time, remaining present became my norm.

For you, these next two weeks are a chance to practice staying in today. Not planning for January yet. Not worrying about what’s next. Just notice when your mind jumps to tomorrow and gently bring it back. That’s the practice.

Rest from Wanting

Rest from wanting was easier because by the time I made the decision to leave my job, I’d already worked on projects from some of the most prolific creators in entertainment and some of the biggest movie franchises. There wasn’t a red carpet I wanted to be on, a star I wanted to meet, or an event I was missing. I had seen enough and gotten to what I thought I wanted from my career.

So when I left Netflix, I told God, “If we’re going to leave AGAIN, then this time, I don’t want anything. I want what you want.” I was surrendered. I just wanted to do it another way that wouldn’t leave me feeling like I had gained the world and lost my soul.

For you, these next two weeks are a chance to put down what you want—or what you think you’re supposed to want—long enough to see what just is. Sometimes the life we’ve always dreamed of, the one our parents wanted for us, the one we’ve climbed so far up the ladder to reach, becomes a trap. We’re so close to having it all that any other path feels like going backward. And then our wants become handcuffs to an old life. A life that’s no longer working.

I had to stop wanting. When I worked on the film RUSTIN, I heard filmmaker and playwright George C. Wolfe say, “Stay in the unknowing long enough for something deeper to emerge.” Sometimes we force ourselves into an answer—five-year plans, vision boards, round-ups on Instagram. Instead, try noticing. Watching. Waiting for the answer to reveal itself to you.

Rest Is Just the Beginning

These next two weeks aren’t just time off. They’re your first creative act going into 2026. A chance to cultivate a rest practice that you can carry with you all year.

Rest isn’t the reward at the end of hard work. It’s the foundation you build everything from. It’s the beginning of alignment. When you practice rest from working, worrying, and wanting, you start to see more clearly. You respond with more conviction. You begin removing what’s holding you down. It’s like a cork underwater—when you remove the weight, you see how much easier it is to rise.

You don’t need (almost) 40 years like I did to figure this out. These next two weeks are enough to begin. Pay attention. Write down what you notice. And when you go back to work in January, you’ll know what you’re being called to release.

You’re not crazy, friend. Something is off. And rest is where you begin to find your way back.

Currently…

… putting Teyana Taylor’s preparation on my vision board. Teyana is having an absolutely iconic year. She starred in the most critically acclaimed film of the year (One Battle After Another), released a standout R&B album (Escape Room), and is being widely celebrated for both. She’s earned Grammy, Golden Globe, and Critics Choice nominations, and it feels increasingly inevitable that an Oscar nod is on the way. She’s been honored at nearly every major industry event – and that’s before mentioning that she’s also dating Aaron Pierre, a.k.a. Mufasa himself, a.k.a. one of the sexiest men alive (according to People, myself, and anyone with eyesight).

But what makes Teyana’s 2025 so compelling isn’t just the accolades, it’s the evidence it provides in the importance of trusting the timing of your life. She has been in the zeitgeist for literally half my lifetime, dating back to her iconic My Super Sweet Sixteen episode in 2007. Over the years, we’ve seen flashes of brilliance and moments that hinted at her full range, but rarely anything that matched her depth of talent. In large part, that’s because she was mismanaged and undervalued by the very systems meant to support her. Her former label failed to understand the breadth of her creative vision – particularly her desire to direct and act. The toll became so heavy that she “retired” from music in 2020 to exit her record deal and protect her mental health. Staying in a place that only saw her as one thing would’ve cost her too much.

What’s remarkable is that she never let the delay derail her design. Instead, she kept working in the wait. She founded her production company, The Aunties, creative-directed live performances and music videos for artists like Latto, Summer Walker, and Monica, and sharpened her acting chops in films like A Thousand and One and The Book of Clarence. It wasn’t all flashy – but all of it was foundational.

The more I think about the diligence to craft Teyana displayed during her waiting season, the less surprising it is that she’s finally experiencing the momentum she’s been chasing her entire career. Her preparation opened the door for career defining opportunities. This isn’t a comeback, it’s the fruit of alignment. – Sylvia Obell

… disappointed in Sherrone Moore for fumbling more than just the bag. When Sherrone Moore was appointed as the head coach of the University of Michigan Men’s Football program it was an historic appointment full of promise and potential. He was meant to be the continuation of the Harbaugh-era of success (minus the controversy) and he was the first black head coach in the history of the program. It was a big deal and Sherrone had an incredible opportunity in front of him. Instead less than two years later he has absolutely fumbled the bag by getting fired for having an inappropriate relationship with a fellow staffer.

So what happened? Well, it’s clear to me that he wasn’t doing his work. Not the X and O’s on the field, which actually weren’t that great, but the self work that really matters. This level of self-destruction – and the crash out that followed – only happens when there are some shadows and demons that haven’t been dealt with. He was supposed to be a leader both at work and at home but the lack of integrity displayed in his behavior betrayed the trust of both his team and his family. What’s done in the dark always comes to light and the higher you climb the wider your shadow casts. None of us are as bad as our worst decision, or as good as our best, but if we aren’t willing to continually do the self-examination work required to maintain alignment it will absolutely cost us our legacies. And that’s something no one can put a price on. – A.J. Watson

…wondering why we’re still surprised by the switch-ups that follow women like Jasmine Crockett. U.S. Rep. Jasmine Crockett has entered the race for U.S. Senate in Texas. And like clockwork, she’s now facing a wave of scrutiny from some of the same corners that once applauded her rise and celebrated her sharp questioning, clarity, and refusal to back down in the House. All of a sudden there are questions about her campaign funding, reframing of her voting record, quiet concerns about her “viability,” and loud doubts about her tone. And it feels like this formula happens every time to a Black woman on her rise to power.

But y’all, it’s important to remember that this is an expected threshold on the rise to greatness and we have to stop being surprised or offended when it happens. When you challenge the system, which many of us are designed and born to do, support often lasts right up until our authority expands beyond what feels manageable. What once was called brilliance starts getting recast as risk and mislabeled as arrogance.

This isn’t a leadership failure. It’s a leadership condition. It’s evidence of power. Greatness never rises without resistance. Persecution is not an anomaly — it’s an expected milestone on the path of rising influence. False narratives are a cost of carrying true authority. The instinct to self-defend, over-explain, or fight every distortion is understandable, but it’s also a trap. The higher road has always been the same: stay potent in expression, refuse to shrink or harden, keep leading with love, and keep producing results. Perception doesn’t need to be managed when purpose is clear.

We don’t win by fighting every narrative — we win by staying aligned long enough for the truth to speak for itself. – Maya Watson

…watching Ryan Serhant’s real struggle and it isn’t about real estate. Everybody’s talking about how refreshing it is to watch a real estate show that’s actually about real estate — where the drama doesn’t overshadow the deals getting done. In season 2 of Owning Manhattan, Ryan Serhant’s focus on the work is part of what makes him a great leader. But what I find most compelling is his vulnerability and what he’s showing us about the limitations of winning on the world’s terms. On the outside, Ryan is crushing it. He has one of the fastest growing real estate companies in New York City, investors throwing 8-figure offers at him, and deals with brands like Mercedes Benz.

But behind the record breaking headlines for his deals,, we get a more complete picture of the cost of Ryan’s success. He gave up his dream of becoming a Broadway star to pursue real estate because it would make him more money. He wants another child but is struggling with being the #1 dad vs. the #1 broker. He’s continually in a conflict between his personal and professional desires. We see this inner turmoil throughout the season, but it’s especially clear when he warns his team about the implications of trying to have it all.

Ryan’s story felt so relatable for those of us that came from “small towns” in Colorado to big cities like New York, and did the thing we thought we had to do, but might be questioning if the path is still working.. But, it’s not too late to go follow the second path. To start living life out of conviction and not fear. It might feel like it will cost you some things. It might feel like a temporary loss. But at some point you realize that if you keep needing more wins to feel like a winner, you’re probably already losing. And once you see that, the scariest thing isn’t walking away from what’s working, it’s realizing what it’s costing you to stay. – Kevin Stuckey

…inspired by the way Vince Staples and Ziwe aren’t waiting for us to catch up to their brilliance. In The Dark Knight, the Joker describes his dynamic with Batman as an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object – a paradox by definition. And yet, that’s exactly what Ziwe’s interview with Vince Staples delivered.

Watching two intelligent, quick-witted comedians volley effortlessly back and forth – touching everything from January 6 to the origins of Mormonism to hip-hop’s adverse effects on the Black community – felt like witnessing an Olympic tennis match. The banter was as fearless as it was electric. They didn’t miss a beat. Nothing was off the table. There was no such thing as going too far. Both Ziwe and Vince are known for running laps around others in interviews, but the moment they realized they’d met their match, something shifted. It was as if each of them was silently daring the other to be the truest, sharpest expression of themselves.

There’s something delicious about watching two creatives, both deeply clear on how they lead themselves, go head-to-head in that way. They always seemed a few steps ahead of the audience, as though there was ten percent of the joke the rest of us weren’t in on, and they loved it. That’s part of what makes both The Vince Staples Show on Netflix and Ziwe’s talk show so brilliant: neither is waiting for the audience to catch up. They refuse to water it down to appease the masses, choosing instead to let their gifts run at full speed.

Understanding and trusting your greatness before the rest of the world does is a crucial step on the path to greatness and Vince and Ziwe embody that truth in the most captivating way. – SO

CURRENTLY…

…admiring the nerdy video store clerk who just bought HBO. The recent news about Netflix winning the bidding war to acquire Warner Bros. is one of the biggest stories entertainment has seen in a very long time. The acquisition would concentrate unprecedented power in a single entertainment company, combining the world’s largest streamer with one of the biggest legacy studios and IP libraries. The implications are massive. And for those who work in entertainment and media – especially those who once wore the iconic red N – it’s a surreal moment in more ways than one.

Netflix was my favorite place I’ve ever worked. It was the company that stretched me the most, changed me the most, and transformed me for the better. It’s also where I had the most fun. When I started, there were maybe twenty Netflix Originals total. And back then, co-CEO Ted Sarandos used to say something that felt bold, almost delusional at the time:

“We want to become HBO faster than HBO can become us.”

And now it’s happening. A historic chess move. And a full-circle moment in the evolution of this industry.

Usually in a moment like this, I would be talking about Netflix’s other co-founder Reed Hastings, one my favorite leaders of all time and former CEO of Netflix. But today, the person I keep thinking about most is Ted — the nerdy video-store clerk from Arizona. The guy who didn’t go to college. The awkward entertainment super-fan who has been recommending what to watch to strangers his entire life, long before anyone called it “content curation.” He wasn’t in it for power or prestige in the beginning. He was in it because helping someone find their next favorite series, comedy, or film genuinely brought him joy. It’s who he was. It’s who he is.

People underestimate how unlikely his story is. To go from recommending DVDs at a local video store to leading the world’s largest streaming platform – and orchestrating an $80 billion acquisition of one of the most iconic studios and television brands, one that existed generations before Netflix was even an idea – is HARD. And it should expand what we believe is possible.

Ted is not perfect. Far from it. He and I disagreed often, and sometimes loudly. But you cannot tell the story of modern entertainment without naming him as one of the most influential executives in Hollywood history. The culture Netflix created. The way we now consume entertainment. The sheer volume of stories told, careers launched, and boundaries shattered. We’re witnessing history in real time.

And for those of us who want to be great — who want to build something meaningful, who want to shift culture in our own way — Ted’s story remains one of the defining and extraordinary examples of what’s possible when someone follows their obsession, commits to their craft and devotes themselves to the pursuit of mastery over decades. – Maya Watson

…checking my boss’ references after watching the Diddy doc. There’s a lot that can be said about Sean Combs: The Reckoning, but what struck me most is how clearly the documentary illustrates this truth: Whoever the founder is, the company becomes.

Across the four-episode docu-series, former Bad Boy artists, staff, and producers recount the many ways they witnessed Puff’s abusive behavior long before it reached them directly. They saw the red flags, justified them in pursuit of opportunity, and ultimately learned how deeply that decision would cost them. Destinies were altered, dreams were deferred or abandoned, and lives were irreparably harmed—people were abused, traumatized, imprisoned, assaulted, and even killed.

For those on the path to greatness, let this documentary be your reminder not to get in business with morally corrupt leaders. Whoever sits at the helm determines the direction of the ship, and whatever drives them—good or bad—will impact your work. No amount of talent or “staying out of the way” protects you from the culture you choose to align with. As Mark Curry shared, it became a constant fight-or-flight reality, and even those who made it out still carry visible scars.

Most of us have to learn under someone else’s leadership before stepping into our own. Don’t let the lure of fame, access, or money blind you to the character of the people you entrust with your purpose. The price of choosing wrong is far too high. – Sylvia Obell

…thanking Brandy and Monica for reminding us that the boy was never the point. Almost 30 years after the song debuted on the charts and became the bestselling song of 1998, The Boy Is Mine — and the cultural moment it created — is still the gift that keeps on giving. With Brandy and Monica wrapping the final stop of their tour inspired by the song this week, we wanted to take a moment to celebrate why this moment landed the way it did.

Despite the controversy that surrounded their staged beef on a song about a boy — a feud that eventually turned real, at least for the people around them, including fans — Brandy and Monica make undeniable magic when they come together. They won their first (and only) Grammy together. They shook the internet when they came together to play their epic catalogues during their 2020 Verzuz, creating a moment so big even Vice President Kamala Harris popped in. And as recently as last year, pop megastar Ariana Grande created a remix of their hit that featured both artists together.

There was a time when people played into feuds for fun, but given how divisive our world has become, it’s no wonder fans are saying this tour has healed them. Seeing both artists on stage, crushing it in their mid-40s after debuting in their teens, says a lot about the reverence we have for both of them — their longevity, the admiration of their peers, and the truth that they really are better together. Their coming together didn’t just bring fans out — it created room for other beloved acts like Kelly Rowland and Mya to share in the moment. And the reach of their impact has been emphasized by the amount of greats who’ve appeared in the audience: Beyoncé, Jay-Z, Michelle Obama, Rihanna, Missy Elliott, and Patti LaBelle all pulled up to witness it. Their reunion isn’t just nostalgic; it’s a reminder of what happens when greatness grows over time.

And maybe that’s why this moment feels so special. They showed us that you can have history, tension, and years of distance, and still find your way back to what makes you powerful. It’s more than nostalgia. It’s proof that greatness lasts even longer when we keep choosing each other. – Kevin Stuckey

…hoping Chris Paul knows his legacy isn’t up for debate. Chris Paul is one of the greatest point guards to ever touch a basketball. A man who spent nineteen years making every team he joined better. He recently announced this season would be his last, his retirement year. And then — in a cold, almost casual transaction — he found out he was waived by the Clippers. He posted on his IG stories, “Just found out I’m going home.”

No one wakes up thinking today is their last day. It’s devastating, and it’s familiar. Moments like this force us to ask: What is legacy, really? Maya Angelou said it best: legacy isn’t what you do, it’s all the lives you touched because you were here.

What makes Chris Paul great is not that he’s a 12-time NBA All-Star, 11-time All-NBA, 9-time All-Defensive Team member, Rookie of the Year, two-time Olympic gold medalist, and one of the greatest floor generals in league history.

What makes Chris Paul consequential is what he did for players, for the union, and for the future of the league. As National Basketball Players Association President, he negotiated landmark collective bargaining agreements that expanded revenue share, strengthened pensions, and secured long-term protections while restoring stability and credibility to the union. He fought for retired players by securing healthcare and medical screenings for the generation the league had forgotten. He helped players regain control of licensing and sponsorship rights through THINK450, reshaping how wealth is built in the NBA. He guided the league through the pandemic and the bubble with clarity and calm. And he modeled leadership rooted in service — advocating not just for stars, but for two-way players, journeymen, veterans, and rookies alike.

So yes, the Clippers waived him. But the world cannot waive your legacy. And this is why it matters — for all of us — to keep a record and receipts of what we’ve done. To know the truth of our contribution. To honor our own work even when institutions forget and stop caring.

Well done, Chris. If the league won’t say it loud enough, we will. – MW

…watching Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio conviértete en el nuevo sueño americano. This week, Bad Bunny was announced as the most streamed artist on Spotify, globally. It’s his fourth time topping the list, but this time it hits differently. This year alone, he’s been nominated for six grammys, kicked off the new season of Saturday Night Live, and been named the 2026 Super Bowl headliner during a political moment where legal immigrants are facing constant threats of deportation from the U.S. by government officials. And yet here he is, an unapologetically Spanish-speaking artist, becoming the center of American culture without softening a single part of himself to get there.

Benito’s superpower is making the world come to him. When it was time for his tour this year, instead of taking over the Sphere in Vegas or performing across America in arenas he could have easily sold out, he decided to do a three-month residency at home in Puerto Rico, a place people forget is a U.S. territory. He made the culture orbit his heritage. He showed us that power can also look like staying rooted instead of running toward what looks bigger.

This wasn’t just a branding play. It felt like a refusal to assimilate into a system that expects you to shrink yourself in exchange for visibility. And it was a reminder that becoming doesn’t require abandoning where you’re from, but often returning to it.

Bad Bunny is showing us what it looks like to refuse the authority of compromise and to become the king of your own domain instead. He’s proving that clarity attracts what compromise can’t, and that when you stand fully in who you are, the world eventually tilts in your direction. – KS

Our weekly digest — or, if you will, our collective Explore Page — where we unpack the stories, trends, and hot takes that had us (and probably you) double-tapping, debating, or doom-scrolling all week.

Each edition, our editors break down what the week’s biggest moments are really about — and how they connect to the ideas we care about most: leadership, conviction, and becoming.

Politics? Pop culture? Business, beauty, world news, or the latest “did-you-see-this?” viral moment? Nothing’s off-limits here. If it’s shaping the conversation, we’re talking about it — with context, curiosity, and occasionally a little bit of side-eye.

Currently…

… witnessing one of the most universal, painfully relatable experiences of what it looks like to be Black and great in this world through Shedeur Sanders. Last night, after much anticipation, he made his first NFL start as a Cleveland Brown, and made history as the first rookie quarterback in 26 years to win their starting game. And yet, instead of celebration, we watched his coach refuse to acknowledge him, and is withholding praise, acting like Shedeur didn’t just do what no one else has been able to do for decades. Up until now, many of us could feel something was off behind the scenes, but after last night, there’s no mistaking it.

Because here’s the truth: when you are great — when you know you are the answer to a problem and you carry the quiet certainty Shedeur named pre-game when he said, “I’m the one they’ve been looking for” — there will always be someone who can’t stand it. Some leader who feels threatened by your brilliance. Someone so unsettled by your light that they try to bury you, belittle you, or convince the world you’re not who you know you are. Shedeur has endured all of it. Expected to go in the first round, dropped to the fifth. Benched. Questioned. Picked apart in ways other rookies never are. And still — through all of it — he keeps choosing discipline over disrespect. Grace over ego. Steadiness over spectacle. He refuses to let anyone strip him of the deep knowledge of who he is.

And that’s why this moment feels bigger than football. What we’re watching isn’t just a quarterback proving himself. It’s a young Black man holding his ground in the face of public hostility, private politics, and intentional attempts to shrink him and choosing to rise anyway. There’s a blessing in that kind of resilience, in being mistreated because of the greatness you carry. And Shedeur keeps showing us exactly who he is, not by retaliating, but by becoming undeniable. The persecution isn’t proof that something is wrong with him — it’s proof that something powerful is happening through him for the world to bear witness. In the illustrious words of the great Muhammad Ali, “Rumble, young man. Rumble.” - Maya Watson

… watching Capitol Hill remind us why it’s the greatest workplace drama in human history. On Friday New York City’s mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani met with President Trump, and Trump spent the meeting acting like he’d just discovered a new man crush, despite his past hard stance against Mamdani’s mayoral bid. Leaving the internet scrambling to make sense of their encounter. Across the Hill, Marjorie Taylor Greene is distancing herself from MAGA after falling out with Trump and announcing she’ll be resigning from Congress altogether come January. Likewise, leaving people struggling to believe her pivot — understandably. Trust is built on character and competence, and most people doubt Greene has either. The only way to gain trust is through consistent action. And while it’s fair to be slow to praise Greene’s latest moves, it’s even smarter to give her a chance to put her money where her mouth is, which is what it seems Rep. Jasmine Crockett is doing through her recent invitation for Greene to work together during her last weeks in congress and actually enact change that aligns with these so-called new views. Here’s what this moment is actually revealing: Mamdani and Crockett are modeling a version of leadership most people no longer recognize — the kind that allows you to tell the radical truth and STILL work with people you can’t stand in order to get something done. Like Crockett, Mamdani is proving trust and working together are not one in the same by maintaining his stance on Trump’s facism whilst working with him in the ways a mayor must work with a President. Tbh, it’s super refreshing to see these new young political leaders who are mature enough to do the work even when the people around them make it nearly impossible. If we want things to change, this is the kind of leadership it will take to move us forward. - MW

…saddened that one of our Black geniuses is misleading the community he comes from. Here’s the thing about those comments Pharrell made last week: DEI isn’t about favoritism, it’s about fairness. So to sit on a stage and ask the Black people in the crowd if they would rather get support for their business because they’re black or because they’re the best, as if anyone both Black and successful has ever been handed real opportunities without having to be twice as good, often only to get half as much, is not only absurd, it’s dangerously aligned with the false narrative that conservatives are trying to project onto DEI initiatives. And whether his belief system has aligned with the wealthy white capitalists he’s been in business with throughout his career intentionally or subconsciously, it’s clear that the privileges Pharrell’s celebrity have afforded him have blinded him to the very real ways minorities are under attack by the current administration. He has become yet another example as to why Black elitism is the greatest threat to our progress. It’s fine not to enjoy politics, but to act like it’s more divisive to pick a side than to not support the political group that’s gutting affordable healthcare, illegally deporting American citizens, and lobbying to strip various minority groups of multiple human rights is a wildly tone deaf take. Pharrell seems to have forgotten that the only leaders who have ever actually moved people forward are the ones who were courageous enough to take a stance. The quest for greatness will always require you to pick a side, and it will at times be in direct opposition to your quest for wealth. Don’t be like Pharrell and forget it on the very stage you created back when you understood why an event like “Black Ambition Demo Day” was necessary in the first place. - Sylvia Obell

… shocked by how many Housewives are falling apart trying to keep up. Karen, Wendy, and Mia, oh my! What is going on over at The Real Housewives of Potomac? In case you missed it, here’s the rundown from the last few months: Karen Huger was released after serving 6 months of a year-long DUI sentence. A few weeks later, Wendy Osefo and her husband were arrested on insurance fraud charges. And just last week, Mia Thornton was arrested in Atlanta for allegedly stealing furniture from a furnished condo. It’s the kind of storyline that makes for must-see reality television, but it also points to something deeper. This is what happens when the pressure to keep up gets louder than the truth. You start cutting corners, losing control, and reaching for things that were never yours to begin with. And before you know it, you’ve become the opposite of what you wanted people to see in you. And if we’re honest, most of us have felt some version of that pressure. Maybe not with cameras rolling, but in the quiet ways we’ve tried to look “okay” and “keep up” when life was stretching us thin. That’s when we start trying to hold up an image that costs more than we can afford to pay. I came across a quote recently, attributed to Jim Carrey: “If you’re not willing to downgrade your lifestyle for a year to have the lifestyle you want forever, you care too much about what other people think.” The truth underneath it is simple: being honest about where you’re at will save you faster than protecting your image ever will. And the cost of pretending is always higher than the courage it takes to be honest about where you actually are. - Kevin Stuckey

… channeling my Trump rage into action. I’ve been disappointed by Trump for years, but I’ve always tried not to lead with emotion. I try to make sense of at least one thing he’s doing, the same way you try to manage under a bad leader at work when you can’t afford to leave. You look for any light you can find just to get through the day. But then there are moments when that stops working, when there’s no angle to understand or benefits of the doubts left to give. Last Thursday was one of those moments for me. When Trump called for the death of lawmakers, the switch flipped. “Righteous rage” doesn’t quite capture it. It was the feeling you get when a line has been crossed so clearly that you can’t normalize it anymore. Because underneath the anger was something else: the weight of what people are already carrying. Imagine finding out your job is cutting salaries in half, removing free lunch, and dropping healthcare benefits. Then in the middle of all of that, you have to deal with bullying and threats from your CEO. It’s too much! And voicing how you feel in the annual 360 meeting doesn’t feel like enough. That’s essentially what we’re dealing with here, just worse, because the “CEO” is running the country. I don’t want that kind of toxicity turning into apathy. So I went straight to what I could control: I looked up the impeachment process (it starts in the House and moves to the Senate) found my representative, and sent an email asking how they planned to address this unacceptable behavior. It wasn’t a huge, time-consuming action, but it helped me feel less helpless and more grounded, more like myself again. It reminded me that when everything feels out of control, taking one small action is sometimes the only way to keep from shutting down. And maybe that’s the real invitation – not to fix everything, but to stay engaged and hold on to your humanity. - KS

…writing to the woman who is called to be the first woman president and making sure she doesn’t take Michelle Obama’s words to heart. Post–White House Michelle LaVaughn Obama is healed, unbound, and uninterested in performing optimism to make us feel better. And I love that for her. There’s something sacred about that kind of liberation after surviving the most scrutinized role in the world. Last week, when she said Vice President Kamala Harris’ loss in the last election proved the country isn’t ready for a woman president, it sparked conversation about the truth of our readiness as a country. But respectfully, I disagree with Mrs. Obama’s conclusion.. Kamala’s 107-day sprint was not a fair barometer. Hillary won the popular vote by nearly 3 million. These weren’t landslides of rejection; they were structural failures, timing failures, and coalition failures. I’d go as far to say we’re probably closer to a female president than we are to a Destiny’s Child reunion. So if you are the woman who was born to be the answer to this problem – you might be 21, 41, or 61 – don’t let her words discourage you. Learn from them. Let them sober you. Let them challenge you. But don’t let them stop you. - MW

I met Erik Logan in 2008, when I was twenty-three and working part-time for The Oprah Show after the Obama campaign. There was a new sports bar next to the studio, and one day he walked in and sat beside me. We had crossed paths in the building before, but he didn’t know me. He had just stepped into the role of President of Harpo Studios — late thirties, coming from radio, suddenly responsible for leading one of the most culturally influential media brands in the world. We started talking, bonded over sports, and at some point he asked what I did. I told him I was working more than forty hours a week in marketing and affiliate relations, hoping to be hired full-time. The next day, I was. That was Erik. He noticed. He asked. He was curious enough to actually see people, and when his curiosity revealed potential, he acted on it.

Over the years, curiosity became the through-line of how he led — steady, generous, deeply human curiosity. He guided us through the nearly impossible transition from The Oprah Show to OWN: Oprah Winfrey Network, a chapter that most people will never understand the pressure of. The network nearly didn’t survive those early years. But Erik’s curiosity held the room together. He asked questions that made us think. He pushed us to see possibilities when all we could see was strain. He was the one reminding us, implicitly and explicitly, that leadership is ultimately the work of paying attention. When asked what he was the answer to, he said, “I’m here to help people find a way.”

Which is why his piece on curiosity hit me so deeply. I never knew where that curiosity came from — what shaped it, what tested it, what it carried for him personally. Reading it felt like watching someone tell the truth about the engine that has always powered their leadership. It’s the kind of reflection only a person who has been through both trial and triumph can write. Curiosity that opens doors, steadies teams, and tills the ground for possibility. Curiosity that refuses to stop growing.

It’s an honor to share his writing here. If this piece moves you the way it did me, follow Erik’s Substack and pay attention to how he thinks. Leaders like him are rare — and worth following. –Maya Watson

Curious, Not Certain: Why Curiosity Will Always Outlast Expertise

A story about how curiosity, not confidence, built my career. And how I found the willingness to ask again is what moves you forward.

Erik Logan Toppenberg | November 13, 2025

The first time I walked into a radio station, I wasn’t chasing a job. I was running. Running away from chaos and dysfunction, in search of safety and stillness.

I was 16, coming from a home that was, on its best days, unpredictable. On the worst days, it was something else entirely. Loud voices. Quick tempers. Emotional ambushes that made stillness feel like luxury. A radio station became my refuge. A place where the outside noise couldn’t reach. The blinking lights, the hum of the boards, the low conversations behind studio glass, all of it made sense to me in a way nothing else did.

My teenage years were spent in a coyote costume. That was the gig, the radio station mascot, Cody the Coyote, the famed pet of KEBC in Oklahoma City. Putting aside the smell of the fur, and the foamed head sweat bands, it got me in the building. Once I was there, I never wanted to leave. I volunteered for every job, no matter what, just to stay longer. I asked so many questions, I’m sure they wanted to duct tape my mouth by week three. However, I kept showing up. Not because I had a plan, I didn’t. But because I had questions. And at the time, questions were the only thing I had more of than fear of being at home.

I didn’t know it then, but that instinct to be curious instead of scared saved me. Not just then, but repeatedly to this day.

Curiosity was the only way forward.

When you grow up with instability, you learn two things early: one, nothing is guaranteed; and two, you’d better figure it out fast. That urgency didn’t leave me. But instead of calcifying into control or certainty, it turned into a drive to learn.

At the station, KEBC to be exact, I taught myself how transmitters worked. How microwave antennas bounce signals off towers. How to edit tape with grease pencil marks and a razor blade. Later, how music logs were assembled, spots rotated, and how rotations influenced audience behavior.

Curiosity became my safety net. Over time, it became my superpower.

That pattern showed up again when I became a corporate programmer for CBS/Infinity Broadcasting. I didn’t know how to manage a profit and loss (P&L) statement or build a strategic budget. So I dove into business books as if they were survival guides (Survival guides and instinct are skills that every Eagle Scout knows).

I sat with finance teams. I asked the dumb questions. I learned by watching how smart people explained complex ideas to people who weren’t supposed to get it. Then came the next leap.

He’s GONE Public

August 2003. Fareed Suleman, former CFO of Infinity, asked me to leave my high-profile job at CBS and join Citadel Broadcasting, where he partnered with Teddy Fortsman. Farid was the CEO, and I was the President of Programming. It was a smaller company, but its economic mission was clear: to take it public.

I looked him in the eye and said, “I’ll do it. One condition, only if you teach me how to run a public.” He did.

I learned the art of roadshows. How to write guidance. What “materiality” meant when speaking to Wall Street. I read 10-Ks and 8-Ks like they were thrillers. I asked what EBITDA actually measured. I didn’t pretend to know. I made it clear I wanted to learn.

And that moment, standing at the New York Stock Exchange, that August, when we took the company public, it was a full-circle reminder that curiosity can carry you places certainty never will.

Reflecting back, I now see that each chapter started the same way early in my career: with the quiet voice inside that said, I don’t know how to do this… yet.

Now, REALLY Listen

The need to really learn and listen was on full display the moment I walked into Harpo.

Here I was, a radio guy dropped into the most legendary television production house in the world, surrounded by people who had been there longer than I had been in the business. The Oprah Winfrey Show wasn’t just a TV show, it was a cultural force. And, I wasn’t just the new guy, I was the guy from another medium entirely.

It was immediately clear I wasn’t going to impress anyone with what I already knew. So, I didn’t try. Instead, I chose to do the only thing that’s ever worked for me when I’m out of my depth: I stayed curious.

I asked questions. I listened in meetings like they were sermons. I shadowed producers, studied scripts, watched edits, and soaked up every bit of information I could. Because if I was going to be of any use at all, I first had to understand the room. And to understand, I had to shut up and learn.

What started as survival turned into one of the greatest learning arcs of my life. It didn’t just prepare me for the OWN turnaround; it humbled me. It taught me that even after decades of success, reinvention is possible.

Understanding vs. Answering

There’s a big difference between asking a question and being curious. A question wants an answer, where curiosity wants a journey. And those aren’t the same thing.

Today, people aren’t reading entire books as much as they used to. I see all the time offers and people telling me they’re watching summaries of books on YouTube or using companies that offer executive book reviews. We’re losing the mindshare battle where people are not reading full articles too; we’re reposting carousels from someone who did.

Now, there is nothing wrong with distillation; in fact it’s something I’m actually pretty good at. But if that’s all we do, we end up with shallow expertise and hollow leadership.

I’ve been there. I’ve been the guy who wanted to look smart. Who answered fast. Who didn’t want to admit he didn’t know something? And you know what crept in when I did that? Imposter syndrome. Every time.

Sitting in rooms with people who had more degrees than a thermometer made me feel small. I wore the suit, trying to project an image of confidence that was bigger than who I really was. My insecurity might as well have been pinned to my lapel like a “Hello, My Name Is” sticker.

Beneath it all, I was terrified someone would figure me out. That they’d see I didn’t belong. The mental trap of that thinking was paralyzing. But curiosity became my way out. It was the key that unlocked the emotional maze I’d built for myself. When I sense the specter of Imposter Syndrome looming, I unplug and reflect on what I need to learn.

Lean into the feelings of “You DO belong here.” When you do, suddenly, all the ground underneath you gets firmer. You can feel it. Everyone can.

Stay Curious, My Friend

If you’re going to stay curious, you have to fight for depth. That means reading long-form when your brain wants bullet points. That means sitting with the weird idea that doesn’t have an immediate application. That means putting yourself in rooms where you’re not the expert. Or better yet, rooms you don’t want to be in, actually to listen.

The people I admire most aren’t just high performers. They’re deep thinkers. They take notes. They ask questions. And they permit themselves to slow down long enough to understand what they’re learning.

These are for you. Write down what pops into your head:

• When’s the last time you were bad at something… on purpose?

• When’s the last time you followed a hunch, not a strategy?

• What’s something you’ve always wanted to try, but never permitted yourself to explore?

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about staying relevant, connected, and creatively alive, it’s that you don’t thrive by knowing more, you thrive by being curious enough to ask again.

So the next time something sparks your interest, whether it’s a headline, a podcast, a passing comment, or the desire to pick up an instrument: STOP.

Write it down, and follow that thought. Whatever it is, large or small, start the thing. Do it because you felt something, and you may find that ‘feeling’ is the start of something real.

And in the words of the most interesting man in the world, “Stay Curious, My Friend.”

Our weekly digest — or, if you will, our collective Explore Page — where we unpack the stories, trends, and hot takes that had us (and probably you) double-tapping, debating, or doom-scrolling all week.

Each edition, our editors break down what the week’s biggest moments are really about — and how they connect to the ideas we care about most: leadership, conviction, and becoming.

Politics? Pop culture? Business, beauty, world news, or the latest “did-you-see-this?” viral moment? Nothing’s off-limits here. If it’s shaping the conversation, we’re talking about it — with context, curiosity, and occasionally a little bit of side-eye.

Currently…

...watching Eddie Murphy’s new Netflix documentary with a notebook and pen in hand. I knew there’d be plenty to glean when Eddie finally let someone tell the story of his greatness, and Being Eddie does not disappoint. If you watch celebrity docs for gossip or scandal, this isn’t that. But for those of us who appreciate a breakdown of brilliance, Murphy offers plenty of free game and sharp insight through the lens of his journey to becoming a trailblazer in entertainment. What’s striking is how clear Eddie is about the impact of his work and the uniqueness of his gifts. You see that he understood the vision for who he needed to become from very early on: a kid obsessed with TV and doing voices; a teenager who dreamed of being “funny as Richard Pryor, cool like Elvis, and as big as the Beatles.” SNL was his Harvard, and his transition into movie stardom came from recognizing that he could—and should—be more than one thing. That he could be everything. Breaking barriers and opening doors became his work. He put the “leader” in leading man for generations of comedic actors who credit him as the first possibility model of boundless creativity they saw in someone who looked like them. “What I wound up doing changed the perception of Black actors. They saw me and they saw worldwide success and realized Black could be worldwide… I was the psychological soil that was required for everything that happened after me,” he says. The doc is also a master class not just in making it, but maintaining it. Dave Chappelle notes that surviving being Eddie Murphy may be Eddie’s greatest accomplishment. Everyone else in his class of pioneers who broke the glass ceiling on Black superstardom—Michael Jackson, Prince, Whitney Houston—is no longer with us. A sobering reminder of the mental discipline required to sustain greatness. On that Eddie says, “The best thing to pray for, more than money or anything, is a peace of mind. You got that, you got it all.” – Sylvia Obell

…frustrated that the Epstein files are dominating the conversation right now. With so many people suffering – SNAP instability, workers missing paychecks, an economy slowing down, affordable healthcare under threat – this moment feels like another distraction. It has nothing to do with what people are actually struggling with, and it feels like we’ve lost the plot from just a week ago. Don’t get me wrong – I understand why people want these documents released. If a president knew about or was connected to a child sex trafficking ring, the public deserves clarity and justice. But here’s the part that’s hard to ignore: it wasn’t enough that he admitted on tape to mistreating women. It wasn’t enough that he was convicted on 34 felony counts. It wasn’t enough that he attempted to overthrow an election. I would hope deeper involvement revealed in these files would finally be enough, but I no longer have that kind of faithin a system that has already shown its willingness to tolerate this type of leader. The loyalty is so blind, and the structure is so broken, that even the worst information might not lead to meaningful change. So now what? What does this mean for us? For me, it’s the realization that I have to stop expecting the current people in power to do what they’ve already shown me they’re unwilling, or unable, to do. And maybe that’s the permission I want to offer here: to turn down the noise on the latest political drama and turn up the volume on our own assignments. It’s time to stop waiting for accountability from a system that’s already shown us who it protects, and to redirect our attention where it actually matters – the work that keeps calling our name, even when the headlines try to drown it out. – Kevin Stuckey

…watching the world’s wealthiest people celebrate like the country wasn’t literally on fire. Kris Jenner rang in her 70th birthday at Jeff Bezos’s reported $175 million mansion with a guest list that looked like the annual meeting of the Billionaire Boys & Girls Club — and to be fair, the party looked incredible. Good for her. Happy birthday, Kris. She’s built an entire empire (and an amazing life) off strong family values, the appropriation of Black culture, the hyper-sexualization of her daughters, and somehow still managed to charm the world. But the timing hit a nerve: while the government shut down and SNAP benefits were being cut, our faves were clinking glasses under chandeliers. For a lot of people, it felt disappointing, disillusioning, and maybe even a little betraying. Moments like this force us to look at who we elevate, who we trust, and who we give influence to — not based on fame or familiarity, but on alignment, integrity, and demonstrated care. If anything, this weekend was a reminder to be far more intentional about who we platform in this next era, and to stop assigning expectations to people who were never carrying our best interests to begin with. - Maya Watson

…loving that Megan Thee Stallion has chosen a man who does not play about her. The photos and TikToks of Megan and her new boyfriend Klay Thompson have been cute, but what’s really sealing the deal for me is watching Thompson defend his rapper girlfriend as the public once again tries to blame her for the actions of a grown man. This time, the men in question include former NBA players Patrick Beverley and Jason Williams, who made lewd comments about Megan on their podcast while insinuating that she was somehow responsible for Klay’s rocky performance this NBA season. Unlike Tory Lanez—who had no problem trying to shift his own guilt onto her—Klay isn’t having it. The four-time NBA champion commented under a clip of the segment, writing: “How would y’all feel if I referred to your wives in such a way? @patbev21 … Do better fellas. Very disappointing.”

There’s something genuinely heartwarming about seeing Megan experience this kind of protection and covering from a man after everything she’s been through. And honestly, her decision to be with someone like him feels like evidence of her growth and an increased sense of self-worth. It seems she let the pain of her assault and the trial that followed sharpen her clarity about the kind of people she should allow into her life. Klay comes across as kind, humble (he drives a Toyota!), and absolutely head over heels for our girl. Whether they last forever or simply enjoy a beautiful chapter together, the respect and care he’s shown her is a bar I hope she keeps moving forward. Shoutout to the hot girl captain for showing the girls what it looks like when you choose a softer place to land. – SO

…loving KevOnStage’s new podcast, Not My Best Moment. His premiere episode with Issa Rae reminded me of something we noticed when Emma Grede interviewed Diarrha N’Diaye (founder of Ami Cole) who opened up about her business failing: we are in dire need of leaders who are willing to tell the truth about what’s not working. We learn so much more from failures than from shiny wins. The fatigue around success stories isn’t because we don’t have things we want to aspire to. It’s because we rarely hear the part that’s actually relatable – that behind every great moment is a journey that’s messy, imperfect, and held together by equal parts resilience and genius. Listening to Kev and Issa, I heard stories about Issa’s false starts, the investments in herself that went wrong, and most importantly, that she still struggles to see herself as a success. We often imagine success as a destination, but watching when Issa admits she feels like “nothing” without a show on air, reminds us that even the people we admire struggle – so we should be kinder to ourselves and not doubt our own greatness when things don’t unfold the way we thought they would. This show was an instant subscribe for me. – KS

…listening to Summer Walker’s catalog and thinking about her impact. Summer has built one of the most important music catalogs for women figuring out love, healing, and self-worth in real time. In her now 3-part album trilogy, which was completed with the release of her new album Finally Over It on Friday, Summer has brought us through each stage of her journey with vulnerability and brutal honesty. As women, we are taught to take our losses quietly. Summer breaks those rules and gives us her raw emotions about messy breakups, stepping into motherhood, and learning to put yourself over everything else. She takes her personal shames and turns them into anthems and cautionary tales for other women. The trilogy isn’t just music; it’s a story of a woman coming of age and telling girls what she wishes she had known at 19 when she started this journey. In a culture where Black women’s pain is turned into entertainment and made fun of, Summer has flipped hers into empowerment and transformed her vulnerability into a superpower. Hers is a story that reminds a generation of women that pain is inevitable and that they will get over it. - Michelle Elysse

…marveling at how Joyce Carol Oates, armed with nothing but curiosity, humbled a billionaire on his own social media app by casually demonstrating that wonder, not wealth, is the real flex in this life. Oates simply asked how someone [Elon] with unlimited resources could still seem unaware of the love of a dog, a book, a sports team, nature, or anything that exists outside the algorithm. In one gentle observation, she exposed the whole glitch in this era: how many people with power have everything except the ability to be present in their daily life. Her comment wasn’t (just) a drag. It was a reminder. You can build rockets, run platforms, and buy influence, but if you can’t slow down enough to actually notice the life you’re living, what’s the point? She reminds us that curiosity still counts, simple pleasures still matter, and influence isn’t proven by followers — it’s shown in whether you’re awake to the world around you. - MW

Our weekly digest — or, if you will, our collective Explore Page — where we unpack the stories, trends, and hot takes that had us (and probably you) double-tapping, debating, or doom-scrolling all week.

Each edition, our editors break down what the week’s biggest moments are really about — and how they connect to the ideas we care about most: leadership, conviction, and becoming.

Politics? Pop culture? Business, beauty, world news, or the latest “did-you-see-this?” viral moment? Nothing’s off-limits here. If it’s shaping the conversation, we’re talking about it — with context, curiosity, and occasionally a little bit of side-eye.

CURRENTLY…

... reconditioning my hope muscles. Thanks to Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral election win in New York City and record (local elections) voter turnout across the country, hope has been trending again. But as we wrote last week on here [Follow the Leader], What Kamala’s Loss Has Taught Us About Hope, we’ve seen this before—a surge of belief that rises and crashes on results. A year after Kamala’s loss, many of us are still learning that outcome-based hope is fragile. The steadier kind, assignment-based hope, doesn’t depend on headlines or wins. It’s the quiet conviction to keep showing up, forgiving, and becoming the evidence that hope still works. That is the hope muscle we must continue to exercise, especially now, as we’re seeing the Senate Dems cave to the Republicans’ deal to reopen the government (without properly protecting affordable healthcare), disappointing liberal voters less than a week after such a historic election day for the party. Outcomes and “wins” change as quickly as the wind, but being the hope you want to feel does not. - Maya Watson

...replaying the Clipse album. Grammy noms are in and The Clipse have received five nominations, including Album of the Year, for their critically acclaimed album Let God Sort Em Out produced with Pharrell Williams. The AOTY nod, particularly, speaks to the power of standing on what you believe and not compromising even when it costs you. The brothers, who cover GQ’s Men of the Year issue this month, refused to remove a Kendrick Lamar song on the album and had to buy themselves out of a 7-figure deal with Def Jam to release the project the way they envisioned. They also weren’t afraid to speak about the pain of losing both of their parents, their drug-dealing past, or reuniting after a 15-year hiatus, during which the eldest brother, Malice, spent most of his time away reconnecting with his Christian faith. In August, we wrote about how Malice used the promo tour for the album to stand ten toes down on his spiritual beliefs and the way it’s made him a better artist – a daring feat in a time where some would say talking about Jesus out loud (or rapping past the age of 50) is “culturally inappropriate.” - Kevin Stuckey .

… thinking of all my fellow journalists as media layoffs hit more companies. CBS News and Teen Vogue are the latest casualties as the media industry, as we knew it, continues to crumble. I’ve been on both sides of layoffs, and I know how they leave everyone – those kept and those let go – scrambling to navigate an ever-shifting landscape with fewer resources and less hope. It’s a disappointment many of us have carried since the death of print journalism. At this point, it’s clear: the system was never built to protect us. We can keep lamenting that truth or figure out how to keep operating in our assignment anyway. We made these brands, not the other way around. Our gifts come with us. We are both the juice and the squeeze. To everyone laid off or struggling in this ruthless economy, feel the pain, yes, but let it also be a portal. Let the suffering squeeze out your ingenuity and reveal new parts of your design you might never have discovered otherwise. Take advantage of the dismantling of old media and become the answer to the problem. I truly believe the future of journalism is independent, driven by creators who’ve earned their audiences’ trust. Whether that means building your own platform, joining forces with others, or finding new ways to share your work, don’t let your creativity sink with a ship that was never built for us in the first place. - Sylvia Obell

… in my Skims pajamas watching Diarrha N’Diaye, newly appointed EVP of Skims Beauty, give a masterclass on real-time reinvention. In a world that worships linear success stories and only expects you to be one thing, she’s proving that pivots can be power moves. She didn’t hide the mess and reality of entrepreneurship when Ami Cole was forced to shutter. Instead, she talked openly about what didn’t work, from bad advice from investors to how unprepared she was for the beauty brand’s growth, on her episode of Emma Grede’s digital series Aspire (also, Emma’s best work imo). And somehow that honesty made her story even stronger. Now with this new position at Skims, she’s got everything she needs to keep scaffolding who she’s becoming – stability, an apprenticeship with Emma Grede, all while getting paid to learn. Sometimes the real flex isn’t building something from scratch—it’s knowing when to evolve and still stay on the path of your best work. - MW

… processing the latest season of Selling Sunset. Like most workplace reality shows, much of the Netflix drama is heightened for the cameras—but there’s something strikingly real, even familiar, about the ongoing conflict between Mary and Chelsea. Whether it’s Mary calling Chelsea’s clothing “unprofessional” last season or accusing her of being disingenuous after a flower gesture this season, there’s a clear difference in how Mary perceives and reacts to Chelsea compared to the other women. Chelsea is confident, direct, and unafraid of confrontation—qualities that often trigger Mary’s defensiveness and bias. When Chelsea stands her ground, Mary seems stunned that she dares to push back, despite being on a show where confrontation is the norm. What makes Mary’s behavior especially frustrating is how she uses her power and proximity to leadership—particularly her relationship with Jason, their boss and ex—to undercut Chelsea. She repeatedly runs to him to complain, framing Chelsea as aggressive or unsafe, even breaking down in tears at just the sight of her name on a table setting. In leadership, there are diminishers and multipliers. Multipliers amplify others’ intelligence and confidence; Diminishers lead from ego, drain energy, and make others smaller. Watching Mary distort Chelsea’s intentions, weaponize vulnerability, and leverage her privilege to suppress another woman’s voice—especially a woman of color—is a textbook case of a Diminisher at work. And Jason and Brett’s willingness to indulge that behavior only reinforces it. It’s a dynamic far too many women of color recognize in the workplace: the gaslighting, the coded language, the emotional manipulation masquerading as professionalism. And it’s a shame to watch it play out on what used to be one of my favorite guilty-pleasure shows. - SO

… squinting in utter disbelief after watching The New York Times’ opinion columnists debate if “liberal feminism ruined the workplace” on their “Interesting Times” series. The entire thing reminded me why discernment is a survival skill. What used to be a source for truth has turned into televised rage-bait think pieces dressed up as interesting journalism. It felt like a Real Housewives of Handmaid’s Tale reunion with a non-confrontational moderator and host. Not even linking it. Protect your peace. And, if you missed it, good…keep it that way. The real tragedy is how they hijacked our attention and stole our energy. Even the outlets we once trusted are trapped in the same algorithmic economy of selling outrage, not insight. We can’t afford to just watch anymore. We have to protect our time like it’s our most valuable currency because it is. - MW

... missing the king of pop. The trailer for the Michael film has dropped and it makes the film look like a true event movie. With Director Antoine Fuqua at the helm, I can already sense that this biopic will deliver on the action-packed spectacle that Michael’s career produced: explosive hits, iconic moves, and screaming fandom. The trailer also brought back to memory a note from MJ that I came across last year on NYU Professor Naima Cochrane’s Music Sermon page. It expressed a deeper WHY behind Michael’s passion - one no doubt influenced by the pain of his upbringing as a poor Black kid in Gary, Indiana during the peak of the civil rights movement: “Do it, 200,000,000 for the white children so they’ll have Black heroes. So they don’t grow up prejudiced. All kids.” In response to a problem he saw in the world, Michael decided to become something that, even in death, his legacy is still becoming an answer to. - KS

…watching legacy do its work. For the last few years, MacKenzie Scott has been doing what most wealthy white women in her position do not — instead of talking about change, she’s funding it. Last week, she gave an $80 million gift to Howard University, bringing her total giving to HBCUs to $1 billion, all without fanfare or control. What made it even more full-circle was learning she once worked for Toni Morrison, who called her “one of the best students I’ve ever had.” She helped research Jazz—Morrison’s ode to Black brilliance, identity, and freedom in Harlem—and learned to see us through Morrison’s eyes first. It’s the quiet delight of seeing the lineage connect, a reminder that we never know who’s watching us, learning from us, or being shaped by what we sow. - MW

In those weeks leading up to the election, there were prayer calls, Zooms meetings, and group texts filled with hope. We weren’t just rooting for her — we were rooting for ourselves. I remember thinking, we’re going to have to brace for impact if she loses. Because so much of our collective hope was tied to her winning. America’s rejection of her would feel like a rejection of us all.

So on November 6, 2024 at 2 am, when we all woke up at the same time in the middle of the night, only to discover that she had lost, her defeat wasn’t just political. It was deeply, deeply personal.

In fact, for many, especially Black women, it was the last straw. The quiet “I’m done,“ or the very public, “y’all got it.” The disbelief that after doing everything right, after playing by every rule, after giving everything we had, everything she had, the outcome still didn’t go our way. Disappointment doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling.

We lost a lot of hope that day.

The Seduction of Results

For as long as I can remember, my life has revolved around outcomes.

If I study hard, I’ll get a good grade.

If I get good grades, I’ll get into a good school.

If I get into a good school, I’ll get a good job.

If I get a good job, I’ll make money, gain recognition, and live well.

If I make money and gain recognition, I’ll be successful.

If I’m successful, I’ll be happy.

And for a while it worked, because I kept getting what I wanted, until I didn’t.

Like when I got the CMO title for the first time. I thought it would make me feel accomplished, like I finally made it to the top. But I felt emptier than ever before. When I got married, I thought we would be the ones to go the distance, to live happily ever after, but it fell apart despite my best efforts to do everything I could. When I left corporate life to go on the entrepreneurial journey, one that I’m certain God led me into, I built the business, raised seven figures — one of the few Black women to do it — but it still “failed.” This July, I had to shut it down. It broke my heart. Not too long after, while talking about my next project with friends, I blurted out, almost without thinking, “It better happen for me this time. I need a win. If this one doesn’t work, I won’t survive it. I can’t go through this again. I can’t believe this big again and get my heart broken.“

But as soon as I said it, I recognized how dangerous it was to be that dependent on any outcome when one of life’s biggest lessons is that nothing is guaranteed.

When Hope Depends on Results

The danger of outcome-based hope says, “If this happens, then…”
I’ll only believe if I know I’ll get the result I want.

I’ll feel safe if this thing happens.

I will finally rest when I see this thing come to pass.

We’ve been trained to think this way our whole lives. And it’s why so many of us keep cycling through the devastation of disappointment –the gap between what we expected and what we experienced. It’s the breeding ground for unbelief.

The heartbreak after Kamala’s loss wasn’t just rooted in her defeat, it was also about the hope inside us that died that day. The doubt it produced in us. The pain of wondering if it will ever be enough. Even though we’ve known the uphill battle for respect, visibility and access, the reality set in that maybe we’re really not wanted here. Maybe all the work wasn’t worth it. Maybe there’s nothing we can ever do to be good enough.

Over the last year, we’ve seen our community be incredibly critical of each other. There’s a shortness and an edge that wasn’t there before. I know first-hand because I have found myself in the middle of the discourse around the disappointment experienced at Essence Fest and other cultural tentpole events. We’ve seen founders brace for impact as they announce new roles, leaders in our community feel pressured to give disclaimers before their events, entrepreneurs nervous to announce new endeavors, all because the distress in our community has (understandably) reached such an insatiable level that nothing feels good enough.

I believe we are witnessing the collective cry of broken hearts and unprocessed disappointment. Life isn’t turning out the way we thought it would. Things aren’t happening in the time we’d hoped for. And it sucks.

Outcome-based hope ties peace to performance. It shifts waiting into withholding. You start holding back your joy, your generosity, your faith until you see results. And when those results don’t come, that hope decays into cynicism, bitterness, and unbelief. Delays feel like indictments. Other people’s wins feel like losses for you.

I saw it in myself too. I was still showing up, still building what God told me to build, but I was more critical than I’d ever been. Less compassionate. More defensive. Outcomes are sand, they are temporary, shifting, never meant to bear the weight of our hope.

Assignment-Based Hope

Assignment-based hope starts differently.

It doesn’t start with “if this happens.”

It starts with “this is why I’m here, regardless of what happens.”

Your assignment is the work you were uniquely created, designed, and called to do — the thing you’re called to steward, whether or not you ever see the result you imagine.

Everyone starts with belief and hope in something. When Kamala got the nomination we hoped we could get it done in 107 days. Historic on so many fronts. That belief produces works. We organized, fundraised, and got in formation. It looked like it was going to happen.

When disappointment hits, like it did on that day, we have two options:

Outcome-based processing

The disappointment gets stored. You internalize the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the disbelief, and your heart starts to harden. It begins quietly, as bitterness — the subtle belief that life, or people owe you something back for what you gave. You replay the betrayal, keep score and make private vows never to trust that deeply again.

The other, more powerful, redeeming option is:

Assignment-based processing

You don’t suppress it or spiritualize it away; you let it speak and you let yourself break. You name what hurts instead of pretending it doesn’t. You tell the truth about your expectations, about what you were hoping for. You forgive, not just others who may have let you down, but the version of yourself who attached your worth to results.

When you run your disappointment through that process, the moment itself becomes training. It builds perseverance, the ability to keep going when you can’t see the finish line. It builds endurance, a steady heart and begins to produce the living, breathing, battle-tested hope that can’t be shaken by results that we’ll need as we continue to become the people we were created to be.

Mastering How We Hope

A year later, it is encouraging to see people like Zohran Mamdani in NYC and Mary Sheffield in Detroit who used the pain to become the answer to problems they believe need to be solved. Their unwavering commitment to their assignment is producing the good kind of hope we need. And it’s been equally as inspiring to see the residents of their cities, along with those in New Jersey, Virginia, California, channel their disappointment into fuel by taking action at the polls and showing up in record numbers that far exceed the averages for local elections.

I’ve seen so many people express that this year’s Election Day results have reignited hope for the first time since last year’s and that they are hope-scrolling again. And it’s a good feeling. Hold on to that as long as you can. But also ask yourself: Are you waiting on major victories and/or someone else to prove hope still works, or are you becoming the evidence yourself?

When I operate in my assignment, I feel steadier, more immovable. I am the consistent stream of hope in who I’m becoming. I am the unshakable evidence. And maybe that’s what this last year since Kamala’s loss has been trying to teach us — that the goal isn’t to get what we hoped for, but to become the kind of people who can hold hope no matter what happens. Hope isn’t a mood, it’s a muscle. And every delay, every loss, every unmet expectation is resistance training for it.

A year later, my prayer for Kamala is that she’s been in the gym too — resting, reflecting, and rebuilding the muscle that loss tried to tear. That she’s giving herself the space to feel the pain, lift it slowly, and let it strengthen her for what’s next.

Because that’s what real hope does.
It doesn’t just recover — it comes back stronger.

sending you so much love,

m