Recommitting to The Good Grind
So… about yesterday.
When I woke up on Friday, I felt conflicted. For a few reasons.
Self-promotion has never been my thing. Never.
I can bug the hell out of people for a fundraising cause though. I laugh when I think about the time about a decade ago when Ase Academy, an academic enrichment org I co-founded, raised thousands of dollars in $10 increments through some internet contest, hitting up our donor base — and their friends, and their friends — and stirring up such amazing energy.
But when it comes to my own business stuff, I’m much more modest. I’ll post an announcement or two, but not a whole lot more.
A wise friend said to me years ago, “B, you’re the visionary type. You don’t do details.” Other wise friends have repeated this, so it’s a consistent theme.
Self-promotion and entrepreneurship are about the details. I’m learning. I’m making myself commit.
Part of making myself do this was making a quick video to announce my book launch yesterday. I totally did not want to do it. Look, cell phone video technology has been around for how many years now? I could have been shot a promo clip talking about my various projects or ideas and uploaded it somewhere. I always concocted a reason not to.
Yesterday morning, around 8:30, I made myself take the 39 seconds it took to film myself, then invested the 10 minutes or so afterwards to figure out all the ways that wouldn’t get the video from my phone to my website, then finally arrive at the way to do it.
Seeing myself online was part of the thing that held me back from doing it. I want to be about the work, not my image or persona. I’m coming to terms with getting myself out there more to advance the work.
The process of putting my little video up didn’t go too bad. Baby steps, but mission accomplished.
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Today I’m seeing another image of myself online. It keeps showing up in my feed. People are sharing the piece that I wrote, with my post-running selfie attached.
When I mapped out my day in the morning, holding up the camera in front of my face a second time was not in the plan. Neither was posting anything on Medium. These words that I’m writing right now are also very much impromptu, free-flowing thoughts. I’m trying to listen, be receptive, and do something good.
That was the other reason I was conflicted yesterday.
How could I talk about a book — a product — with everything going on? How in the hell do we rally for Black lives in the middle of a pandemic (that is now pointing even more to the need to rally for Black lives, when people can’t even properly bury their dead)? How can I launch a book like business is usual?
As I was facilitating my morning meeting yesterday, blending work and therapeutic release in my opening comments, I said something that — as I was saying it — helped me put these pieces together. My work is centered on college excellence, as well as liberation. The two are connected for me, and I can never loose sight of that.
In other words, my business as usual is always about justice. For me, regaining this clarity as I struggle with what it means in business terms to define and promote “my brand” is key to moving forward.
This message is at the heart of Higher Learning. But when I reluctantly put on my promotional hat, I can lose sight of that.
Another of my projects was supposed to serve as a reminder, but again, I’m a visionary at heart, still embracing my follow through, and that project didn’t benefit from an earnest effort in the details department.
It’s called The Good Grind. I co-produced it through years of conversation, multiple side hustles, and a bunch of ideation with friend and artist Ivy Sole and did a soft launch via Indiegogo last year. Here’s a taste:
Everybody has questions. An inner voice creating all kinds of insecurities. When you finally get put on and/or “make it,” guess what? #SpoilerAlert: You still have questions, doubt, and rough days. You still don’t know if you know what you’re doing. And then you get asked to do even more.
Pretty good, right?
The Good Grind is about figuring how to push forward through all of life’s challenges, and work through that inner voice of insecurity. The one I’m working through now as I write these words.
It’s also about helping us all find the good in our grinds — to do the work that we are called to do as we tackle the various other things in life that get put in front of us for one reason or another.
After yesterday’s story started circulating I had people my age (who are about to be singing all the words with Erykah and Jill tonight) talking about “I need to get your book.” I’m like, “what book? The college book? What are you going to do with Higher Learning? You need something for after col-”
And that’s when I remembered that I wrote a book about that too. Just never put it on Amazon after we did the small Indiegogo print run. Because details.
So now, as of like 15 minutes ago, The Good Grind is on Amazon Kindle. Let your people know. Talk about it with each other. Connect with your crew for collective self-care time, group reading and conversation, and good grind projects. Let it spark something new and restorative in this time when there are so many questions, and so much pain (more death is flooding my timeline today, which is another reason I’m here writing and releasing rather than there, mourning).
You can also keep coming back to this publication because clearly I will be writing a lot. Each step I took over the past year to re-write and launch Higher Learning was a part of my personal good grind that I simply didn’t document. I was following the blueprint, just not keeping score. I’m going to map it out now moving forward, and bring in some other voices to do the same. This new world we are shaping gives much to reflect on and share. (I know, Danae Mobley. Trust me though. It’s gonna be great.)
See you at the show.
