Image Is Not Leadership: Fawn Weaver Isn’t the Story — We Are

When we project our hopes onto public figures, we end up protecting our projections instead of facing reality.

This week another one of our so-called “idols” is in controversy: Fawn Weaver, CEO of Uncle Nearest, who was sued for $100 million over a defaulted loan. A judge recently approved a motion for a receivership to take over the company’s operations.

Watching commentary unfold on TikTok and Threads, I’ve noticed four types of responses:

1. People genuinely trying to understand what happened and unpack it through their own lens.

2. People who feel protective, annoyed that anyone would critique a Black woman entrepreneur who’s reached that level.

3. People who see the situation as damning and are quick to withdraw their support.

4. And of course, those who don’t care at all.

Over coffee with a friend yesterday, this came up. For both of us, the news wasn’t shocking, it was kinda expected. Not something you hope for but something that felt inevitable. We’ve each had unpleasant encounters with Fawn, and what we saw up close never matched the hype for us. Yet speaking about it feels complicated. It’s as if sharing our actual experiences would be framed as “tearing down” one of our own, when in reality, we never bought into the mythology in the first place.

I hesitated to write this because social media makes topics like this feel untouchable. And to be clear: I’m not writing to pile on. I’m writing to those who care about what happens when we confuse image with leadership, when we project our aspirations onto public figures, and when we outsource our sense of possibility to someone else’s story.

When the Image Doesn’t Match the Reality

Fawn got on my radar a few years ago. As a first-time founder, you’re always looking for models of what’s possible, archetypes that reflect who you’re becoming. I was (and am) a visionary leader, a master architect stepping into my God-given assignment to build something lasting. I’m unapologetic about my faith and hope to build in a way that opens doors for others.

So when I discovered Fawn — a woman of faith, with a chaplain on staff, a wife who openly loved and was supported by her husband, and a CEO who had built a brand allegedly valued at a billion dollars — I paid attention. I admired her business acumen and the way she approached building a cap table in nontraditional ways.

I also remember telling a friend: Jesus, billionaires, and whiskey…now that’s an odd trio. It struck me as ironic, even contradictory. How do you lead with faith and sell alcohol? But I decided to watch how it would play out.

About a year and a half ago, I had the chance to spend a few days in the same space with her. I was excited, but also apprehensive. If you’ve ever worked in industries where you get proximity to celebrities or people of influence, you know the rule: don’t meet your “idols.” They almost always disappoint.

I won’t go into detail, but what I witnessed didn’t align with the brand that had been presented. There were multiple encounters, deeply unpleasant ones. For me, the barometer of great leadership isn’t how much money you make or how big you build. It’s how you treat people. How you handle your team. How you treat those who can do nothing for you. I pay especially close attention when someone claims to follow Jesus and lead with faith.

And while I extend grace, I wasn’t surprised. Because today, it’s easy to get away with telling a good story without any accountability.

One of my core beliefs is that the health of a company is inseparable from the health of its founder. A company is a mirror of who the founder really is. What I witnessed last year was a truth that we’re now watching play out: it’s not what it looks like.

Image Is Not Leadership

Many of the leaders we admire are not who they present themselves to be. Today, building anything significant often means building in public. And the public rewards conviction and the sound of certainty. The louder and more unwavering you seem, the more people believe you.

But certainty is not the same as character. And image is not the same as leadership. Just because someone is skilled at building in public doesn’t mean they are who they say they are.

Fawn is one of the great storytellers of our time. And one of the CEO’s primary jobs is storytelling — casting vision, shaping narrative, rallying belief. The story of Uncle Nearest is powerful, inspiring, and easy to fall in love with. A Black woman leading in the liquor industry is something we had never seen before. Add in her maverick personality and unwavering conviction, and you have a recipe for perceived success.

But this is where the trap lies. In today’s climate, building a business requires building in public. And when you build in public, authority comes not from truth but from the performance of conviction. The more certain you sound about who you are and what you’re building, the more people will believe it — whether or not it’s real.

And to be clear, building a business is hard. Fawn has gotten further than most of us ever will. Meanwhile, Black women are under relentless attack. Over 300,000 have been forced out of the workplace in recent years. The current administration is systematically erasing our history. Black women receive less than 0.3% of venture funding. And in the entire Fortune 500, there is only one Black female CEO.

We don’t have that many people to look to and aspire to. So when one of our few gets into trouble, it’s natural to run to their defense and say: “You don’t know what it’s like to do something like this. You try building something like this and see how hard it is for you.”

But that’s not what we’re really defending. We’re defending ourselves.

We’re Protecting Our Projections

When we confuse image with leadership and project our hopes onto public figures, we end up defending our own projections rather than facing reality. That sets us up for disappointment, because no one can carry the weight of being our blueprint.

Defending controversial public figures is really about defending the aspirational version of ourselves we’ve tied to them. We’ve made them stand-ins for who we hope to be — a billionaire, a woman of God, a powerful leader. They embody what we want to believe is possible for us. So when they’re criticized, it feels like we’re being criticized. But you don’t actually know them. You’re protecting your projection.

The truth is, many of the people we admire aren’t who we think they are. They aren’t who they present themselves to be. What we end up buying into is a mythology that no one can live up to.

And when you look past the mythology, the facts are sobering. Thanks to TikTok reporting and Reddit private investigators, it's clear that there are real issues with Fawn’s leadership as a CEO and business leader: there are three federal lawsuits — the $100 million loan default, a workplace sexual harassment suit, and a vendor dispute from Oregon over unpaid invoices. Former employees describe a toxic work environment. In court, the judge ultimately had no choice but to appoint a receiver when documentation wasn’t provided.

This isn’t about someone trying to steal her company. The problems are operational. And they are real.

Your Blueprint Was Never Meant to Be Borrowed

When we hand over our hope, our vision, or our sense of what’s possible to someone else’s life, we set ourselves up for heartbreak. The people you admire can be examples. They can inspire you. They can teach you. But they are not your blueprint. God is. And you are.

You don’t need someone else to embody your possibility before you believe it’s possible for you. If you’ve been watching someone else’s best work like it’s a proxy for your own, maybe it’s time to stop watching and start building.

When we elevate people to a place they were never meant to hold, the consequences are always disappointment. No one can carry the weight of being your source of hope. The stories we attach ourselves to can teach us, but they can’t sustain us.

The truth is, image and myth have no real power to bless you or build your future. They are projections and are human-made, fragile, and fleeting. And yet, when we buy into them too deeply, we can be deceived. We confuse charisma for character, story for substance, certainty for truth.

History shows us this never ends well. Every time we give ultimate devotion to something or someone that cannot actually bear it, it collapses. Not just for them but for us too, because we’ve tied our sense of meaning to theirs.

The better way is to stop outsourcing our belief in what’s possible. To stop putting our future in the hands of personalities, brands, or myths. And instead, to build from within from clarity, from alignment, from a foundation that isn’t shaken every time a public figure falls.

Every idol eventually cracks under the weight of the stories we put on them. That’s why you can’t hand your possibility over to anyone else. The future you’re meant to create won’t come from someone else’s blueprint. It will come from the clarity, conviction, and courage to build your own. And that’s where hope finally becomes real.

sending you so much love,

m