As a Black man, there are moments in life where you learn, sometimes without anyone directly telling you, that it’s easier to keep certain feelings to yourself. Over time, I’ve realized that many of the situations that hurt me most were the ones I never addressed. Not because they didn’t matter, but because I convinced myself it was better to move on than to risk being misunderstood.
Browsing: Ain’t That A VHIT
The Divine Nine are nine historically Black Greek-letter fraternities and sororities founded in the early 1900s during a time when Black students were excluded from white organizations on college campuses. Many of their founders were shaped by church, scripture, and Christian values. These organizations were not formed to replace faith. They were formed to cultivate scholarship, character, service, and community uplift.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about something most of us have seen but rarely pause long enough to truly consider the dash between two dates on a headstone. A birth year. A passing year. And in the middle, a small line that somehow holds an entire life.
Impressions are powerful, but they are also momentary. They open doors, create visibility, and spark initial trust. Yet impressions live in moments. Influence lives in patterns.
Matching energy isn’t about flipping personalities or losing yourself. It’s not about becoming loud just to be heard or hard just to be respected. It’s about that point where you stop shrinking to keep things comfortable for someone else. It’s the moment you realize that staying quiet is no longer keeping peace, it’s allowing disrespect to breathe.
That response echoes across generations and it resonates deeply in the lived experience of many in the Black community. There have been times when resources were limited, doors were closed, opportunities were delayed, and yet life still demanded strength, provision, and perseverance. We all know seasons of “nothing… except.”
There have been seasons in my life when I felt like a glass filled right to the brim. Work responsibilities. Family obligations. Community commitments. Church. Leadership. Deadlines. Expectations were both spoken and unspoken. I was grateful for all of it. Truly grateful. But if I’m honest, there were moments when I wasn’t just busy, I was full.
Being teachable simply means staying open to learning, to correction, and to perspectives different from our own. It is not about how much we know, how old we are, or how much experience we have accumulated. It is about posture. It is the willingness to admit that none of us has arrived and that there is always more to learn.
At 46 years old, I’ve lived long enough to know that silence is rarely accidental. It’s often a choice, one shaped by comfort, fear, exhaustion, or the belief that what’s happening doesn’t quite touch our front door yet. I’ve also learned this: silence has a sound. You may not hear it immediately, but over time it echoes, carrying consequences far beyond the moment we chose not to speak.
A window allows me to look outward at people, circumstances, systems, and situations. A mirror invites me to look inward at my tone, my posture, my motives, my habits, and my heart. Both are necessary. But wisdom, I am discovering, begins with knowing which one I am standing in front of.