A Dope Beat to Step To

“It’s been a long time. I shouldn’t have left you without a dope beat to step to.”

Techno-bass undergirds Timberland’s voice in the intro to the 1990s R&B song “Try Again” by Aaliyah, the late singer and actress who influenced generations of artists, including Beyoncé.

However, that’s not what I’m here to write about. I was being clever in explaining my recent absence on Substack.

Y’all, I’m rethinking many things, from launching a new business to my film and book projects, physically and emotionally streamlining my life, and where to live next.

It’s a lot.

We often receive communications from entrepreneurs and creatives to inform us that they’ll be stepping away during the end-of-year holidays to rest, enjoy time with their families, and reflect.

Some of that is true for me. Yet, I’m also being quiet to decolonize my thinking and dismantle systems that scream, “You’ll never be good enough.”

Most importantly, I want to embrace joy. I want to be so happy that folks can’t stand my Black ass. For example, I ultimately want to be so happy because I curate communities for like-minded, often marginalized creators instead of begging for seats at tables my ancestors would have torched.

That kind of happiness and vision takes time, ease, and energy.

I’m also rethinking how I want to use Substack.

A wave of writers, entrepreneurs, podcasters, and other creatives rushed to Substack because it seemed to democratize the distribution of our work. We no longer had to wait for the blessing of an editor, agent, or publisher to get our work to audiences. Substack seemingly allowed creators to build and connect to communities like two people who randomly meet on the street and are drawn to each other.

However, there is something else at work. Creatives receive more “encouraging” emails from Substack advising us how to monetize our work and build our audiences because the more money we earn, the more money they make. It’s just business, after all.

One of the common tactics I noticed is other writers subscribing to my page for free, hoping I’ll return the favor. Neither of us receives money. However, it appears that we have lots of subscribers. Who knows? We might even build cross-audiences. But even that feels “icky,” for lack of a better word.

My friend Jordan and I recently discussed that our writing shouldn’t have to support our lives. Our lives should support and help us share our gifts.

I’m rethinking a declaration I made in a Substack post a few months ago. I said, “All subscriptions will be paid starting January 15, 2024.” Now, I’m in a different place spiritually and creatively. That declaration feels like a hustle and extractive.

I hope you read my work because you enjoy it. I want it to enhance or alter your life perspective. I want to express and share my experiences with you because maybe we’ll learn from each other or even become better people.

This is the dope beat I’m giving you to step to. And when I’m fully back, we will turn this muther out.