After dropping the first two games of the NBA Finals at home, the Spurs walked into Madison Square Garden with their season leaning over the edge. One more loss, and this series would have felt almost finished. Not officially, but everybody watching would have known what time it was. Down 3-0 in the Finals is not a hole. That is a grave. San Antonio knew that, and for the first time in this series, they played with the kind of urgency that matched the moment.

The Spurs beat the Knicks 115-111, and that score does not fully explain what happened. This was not just a team sneaking out a win. This was a young team finally standing up in the middle of a loud building, against a confident opponent, with the whole basketball world watching. The Knicks still lead the series 2-1, but the mood changed. San Antonio gave itself life. New York still has control, but now the Knicks have to answer a question they probably did not want to face this soon. What happens if the Spurs have figured something out?

That is what made Game 3 so important. The Spurs did not play perfect basketball. They had stretches where New York pushed them around. They had moments where Madison Square Garden sounded ready to swallow them whole. The Knicks made runs, Jalen Brunson kept applying pressure, and the Garden crowd treated every basket like it was part of a championship parade. That is what the Knicks do. They make the game feel bigger, louder, heavier. They feed off that building, and for a while it looked like San Antonio might crack again.

But this time the Spurs did not go away.

Victor Wembanyama had to be more than a highlight player. He had to be the reason San Antonio still believed. That is a different burden. Everybody knows the talent. Everybody sees the length, the shot blocking, the handles, the range, and the way he can make basketball look unfair. But Finals basketball is not about how good you look in flashes. It is about how much force you can put on a game when the other team has studied you, bumped you, crowded you, and dared your teammates to beat them.

In Game 3, Wembanyama looked more like a franchise player carrying real weight. He was more aggressive. He did not spend the whole night floating around the perimeter trying to be pretty. He forced New York to deal with him. When he got the ball near the basket, the Knicks had problems. When he stretched the floor, they had to make uncomfortable choices. When he protected the rim, he changed possessions even when he did not block the shot. That is the kind of presence San Antonio needs if it is going to make this a real series.

But let us be honest. Wemby alone is not enough.

The Spurs needed other men to show up, and that is what made this win feel different. Stephon Castle gave San Antonio big minutes and big confidence. Young players can look good in the regular season, but the Finals will expose a man quickly. The lights are different. The mistakes are louder. Every possession feels like somebody is judging your whole career. Castle did not look scared of the moment. He played like a young brother who understood that the Spurs needed more than respect. They needed production.

De’Aaron Fox also mattered because San Antonio needs someone who can put pressure on the Knicks defense with speed and control. New York is too physical and too disciplined to let Wembanyama slowly pick them apart every possession. Somebody has to bend the defense. Somebody has to get downhill. Somebody has to create that little bit of panic that opens up everything else. Fox gives the Spurs that element, and when he is decisive, San Antonio looks much harder to guard.

The Knicks will look back at this game and know they let one get away. That does not mean they were terrible. They were not. Brunson still had his moments. New York still played with that grit that got them to this point. They still made San Antonio uncomfortable for long stretches. But the Knicks did not close the door when they had the chance. That is dangerous in the Finals. When you have a team down 2-0 and you are at home with a chance to put them in a 3-0 hole, you cannot let that team breathe.

Now the Spurs are breathing.

That does not mean San Antonio is suddenly the favorite. Let us not get carried away. The Knicks still have the series lead, and they still have the kind of team built for ugly playoff basketball. They defend. They rebound. They trust Brunson late. They have toughness all over the floor. They are not going to panic because of one loss. Tom Thibodeau teams do not usually fall apart emotionally. They may wear down, they may get stubborn, but they are not soft.

Still, Game 3 gave the Spurs something they did not have after Game 2. Belief.

That word gets thrown around too much in sports, but belief matters. When a team loses the first two games at home, doubt starts creeping in. Players may say the right things at the podium, but inside that locker room, everybody knows the truth. They know they wasted home court. They know history is leaning against them. They know the other team smells blood. One win does not erase all of that, but it does quiet the noise. It lets a team say, “We can beat these guys.” Not in theory. Not on paper. They actually did it.

The question now is whether the Spurs can do it again.

Game 4 will decide what this series really is. If the Knicks win Game 4, they go up 3-1, and San Antonio is right back in trouble. A 3-1 Finals deficit is a brutal place to live, especially after losing the first two at home. That would put the Spurs in a position where every mistake feels like the end of the season. But if San Antonio wins Game 4, this becomes a 2-2 series, and all the pressure shifts back to New York. Then Game 5 in San Antonio becomes a monster.

That is why I cannot call this a full comeback yet. I can call it a warning.

The Spurs have the best individual matchup problem in the series because nobody on New York can truly match Wembanyama when he is locked in. They can bother him. They can push him out. They can send help. They can make him work. But they cannot replicate him. That matters. In a long series, the team with the player nobody can solve always has a chance.

But San Antonio still has to grow up fast. Championship basketball asks hard questions. Can you win when your first option is being trapped? Can your role players make shots in hostile buildings? Can your young guys handle foul trouble, bad calls, and a crowd screaming at them? Can your veterans settle the game when it starts getting wild? Can you win two or three different styles of basketball in the same series?

The Spurs answered some of that in Game 3, but not all of it.

The Knicks also have some questions now. Can they keep Wembanyama from controlling the rhythm? Can Brunson keep carrying late-game offense without wearing down? Can New York avoid those empty stretches where the offense gets too predictable? Can they punish San Antonio enough when Wemby is away from the rim? Can they make the Spurs pay for being young?

That is the beauty of this series now. It finally feels alive.

Before Game 3, the Knicks had the clean story. They took both games in San Antonio. They came back to New York with control. Their crowd was ready. Their confidence was high. The Spurs looked like a talented young team that might have arrived one year too early. After Game 3, that story is not gone, but it has competition. Now the Spurs have a story too. Young team gets punched. Young team gets embarrassed at home. Young team walks into the Garden and punches back.

That is how Finals memories are made.

Do I think the Spurs can come back and win this series? Yes, I do. Any team with Wembanyama has a real chance if the series stays close. He is too talented, too different, and too capable of changing a game on both ends. If Castle keeps giving them fearless minutes, if Fox keeps attacking, and if San Antonio’s defense keeps tightening up, the Spurs can absolutely turn this into a seven-game fight.

Do I think they will win the NBA championship? I am not there yet.

Right now, I still lean Knicks because they have the lead, the toughness, the guard play, and the playoff scars. They have been through enough battles to understand that one loss does not change the whole mission. They also still have Brunson, and in the playoffs, having a guard who can create his own shot late is like having a good closer in baseball. It does not guarantee anything, but it lets everybody sleep a little better.

But San Antonio changed the conversation. That is what Game 3 did. The Spurs went from looking like a young team in trouble to looking like a dangerous team with a little blood back in its body. They are not chasing history with empty hope anymore. They have proof.

The Knicks should still feel good. They are up 2-1 in the NBA Finals. Most teams would take that every time. But they should not feel comfortable. Comfort is dangerous when Wembanyama is on the other side. Comfort is dangerous when a young team starts believing. Comfort is dangerous when a series that looked like it was leaning one way suddenly gets complicated.

San Antonio did not win the championship tonight. They did something almost as important.

They made the Knicks look over their shoulder.

Staff Writer; J.G. Lacour

Covering the NBA, NFL, college basketball, college football, and Major League Baseball from a Black man’s perspective. He loves the full world of sports, but the NFL remains his favorite.

Need to contact this bro, feel free to use this email address; JGLacour@ThyBlackMan.com.

Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth, works by time.

Somewhere in our distant past, there was no time, just eternity. Things were the way they were, as they ever were, and then God intervened and created time.

People have argued for centuries about this earth, how old is it, how did it come into being, how long will it last, and asked deep questions that we do not have answers to.

What we do know, is that this world, as soon as it was inhabited by people, began to turn bad, it became disrespectful of its maker, and God, out of love for humanity had to cleanse it by sending the great flood about 2300 BC. The flood wiped out the human race, and saved just eight people; consisting of Noah and his family.

Of those eight people the world was repopulated, humanity grew and as is customary with people, they became wicked, reckless and dishonourable.

God saw the waywardness of the people and intervened, not by punishment as with the flood, but by sending messengers, prophets, and priests, and godly kings to warn, to guide, and to shepherd people back from disaster and onto a path of goodness and prosperity.

Sometimes we were blessed with good, wise leaders, leaders who have been committed to the welfare of the people and has done great work for the entire world to see and to admire. But too often the world has been cursed with abominable leaders and wicked tyrants.

God saw that the world needed a leader, a new kind of leader, to lead it out of spiritual darkness, out of immorality and idolatry, out of paganism and atheism. And so he sent his only begotten son, Jesus Christ the promised Messiah.

God works to time whenever he works with people. The Bible tells us, “But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, To redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons.” (Galatians 4:4-5)

God sent his Son to lead the world to a higher and better place, to bring light into our darkness, and to lead us to reconciliation with God.

Jesus did not come into the world as a conquering hero, or a dominating warlord, but as a suffering servant who gave his life as a ransom for the whole world.

Because of what Jesus Christ did, we all have a chance of redemption. God knows that we all need redemption, for the best of us are flawed, imperfect human beings.

So what did Jesus Christ do?

He came and lived a sinless life, right here on earth, so that the world could see that he was the Holy One sent from God. Nothing beats evidence. Even his enemies could not justifiably find fault in Jesus Christ. The Jews rejected him, ill-treated him and brought him to Pontius Pilate, whom they thought would condemn him, but the Bible says in John 19:4, “Pilate therefore went forth again, and saith unto them, Behold, I bring him forth to you, that ye may know that I find no fault in him.”

Jesus by his living showed that he was the perfect lamb of God, and the Bible gives confirmation in 1 Peter 2:22, “Who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth.”

This man Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, came to earth for the sole purpose of redeeming us from the yoke of sin and reconciling us to Almighty God.  He did so by dying for us on Calvary’s cross, shedding his blood, and rising again the third day for our justification.

And so Jesus Christ, who is alive, and here in spirit, is calling you, he wants you to come into fellowship with him, and become part of his earthly kingdom the Church.

Jesus is here, and calling you, as written in the book of  Matthew chapter 11 verse 28, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Jesus wants to be your friend, He says in Revelation 3 verse 20, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”

Jesus is calling you; men and women, boys and girls, and you can accept his call right now. He wants you just as you are; so why not come to him.

All that is required for you to be saved, to accept the call, is that you believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, admit that you are a sinner, accept that sin must be punished, for the Bible says that the soul that sinneth must die, and recognize that Jesus is our substitute who died for us, that we might live.

Jesus is calling because he thinks you are worth saving, and he wants you to spend a blessed eternity with him.

The master is here, pleading for you to come on board, because he alone knows what waits for you ahead, and he wants you to be safe and secure with him.

It is always easy to put off the decision to give your life to God, and become a faithful follower of Jesus Christ, but to procrastinate is to endanger your soul, since you may not see tomorrow. Today is your time, so make up your mind now that you have the time.

Remember these words, “To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation.” (Hebrews 3:15) Today, the master is calling for you, and deep down in your heart you know it is the time to answer that call.

Staff Writer; Henderson W.

You can contact this Christian brother at: HWard@ThyBlackMan.com.

It was always about the marketing and promotion of the homosexual agenda.  It was a brilliant move at first glance; but as with all things liberal, the NBA (the men’s league) and liberals took it too far!

Most, if not all of the major sports leagues are controlled and run by radical liberals and David Stern was no exception.

Stern was born in New Jersey and spent all of his life between there and New York City, both being the bastions of liberalism.

Stern became commissioner of the NBA in 1984.  During this time the NBA TV ratings were plummeting,  the NBA had an image problem—it had become too “ghettoized,” and the league had several high-profile drug issues with prominent players.

In other words, the NBA was damaged goods in the eyes of the corporate community, i.e., advertisers and Stern’s immediate mandate was to rehabilitate the NBA’s image.

TV viewership was down, games were broadcast on tape delay, not live like it is today and corporate sponsors made it clear to Stern that they thought the league was “too Black.”

The final assessment by the new NBA commissioner was that they must find a way to make the NBA more appealing to females because their corporate underwriters were very keen on this demographic.

Before Stern could focus on the creation of the WNBA, he had to first clean up all the other issues negatively impacting the NBA.

And guess who was the point person for the creation of the WNBA?  None other than the current commissioner of the NBA, Adam Silver.

Welllll, isn’t that special?

Silver was the executive in charge under Stern for the WNBA’s creation from concept to launch.  Like Stern, Silver comes from an ultra-liberal background.

They both saw the NBA and the WNBA as the perfect vehicles to promote their socialist agenda of “equality,” for “marginalized communities,” especially females!

Of all the professional sports leagues, the NBA is by far the most radically liberal.

During his last few years of being commissioner, David Stern had been putting immense pressure on the WNBA to become profitable or he would shutter the league.

It should come as no surprise that the NBA’s most recent collective bargaining agreement (CBA) from 2023 forced advertisers to include the WNBA or there would be no deal.

While the NBA CBA did not explicitly force WNBA advertisers to include the WNBA, the CBA’s economic and branding effects have strengthened the WNBA’s position as a valuable co-branded partner, making it more common for advertisers to include it in campaigns that span both leagues.

The WNBA recently signed their new CBA deal based on the coercion the NBA used to help them artificially inflate their TV rights and advertising deals with various NBA sponsors.

In its nearly thirty years of existence, the WNBA has never made a profit.  But liberals have a history of tolerating financial loses as the cost of promoting their radical agenda, in this case the homosexual movement.

This radical agenda is why parents en masse refuse to take their children to a WNBA game or watch it on TV.  Most parents refuse to expose their children to this radical agenda.

When Stern became commissioner, he was surrounded by closeted homosexual executives who became emboldened to come out of the closet under Sterns’ leadership.  Under Silver coming out of the closet was put on steroids.

Recent polling data shows that the aggressive promotion of the radical homosexual agenda in sports in particular and society in general is becoming less accepted by the public.

Corporate support for homosexual activities is drying up because this radical agenda is negatively impacting their profits.  How did things work out for Target and Anheuser Busch?

Consistent with liberals being willing to lose money to promote a cause that is antithetical to America it should not be a surprise that the one person who is a God send to the WNBA is being roundly rejected by league officials and its players.

I am speaking about none other than WNBA sensation Caitlin Clark.  Because she is a heterosexual white girl from a two-parent home, has no tattoos and has a boyfriend she has basically been ostracized within the league.

The league and her team, the Indiana Fever refuse to include her in league or team marketing materials even though she is by far the most popular female athlete in the world, not just the U.S.

Clark represents everything that is good about America, but since she is heterosexual, white, and not liberal she is being rejected.

If the WNBA was about basketball and its expansion, Clark would be the face of the league.  But since the league is about pushing a radical political agenda, homosexuality, they are willing to continue to lose money for the foreseeable future.

Even after nearly thirty years of existence, having never earned a profit, and pushing away their fanbase because of their promotion of homosexuality; there continues to be no business case for the WNBA’s continued existence.

Staff Writer; Raynard Jackson

This talented brother is a Pulitzer Award nominated columnist and founder and chairman of Black Americans for a Better Future (BAFBF), a federally registered 527 Super PAC established to get more Blacks involved in the Republican Party. BAFBF focuses on the Black entrepreneur. For more information about BAFBF, visit www.bafbf.org. You can follow Raynard on Twitter; RealRaynardJ; on Gettr: RaynardJackson.

Can also drop him an email at; RaynardJ@ThyBlackMan.com.

That kind of funny has always worked with Black folks. We like jokes, but we really love recognition. We laugh harder when the person on the screen reminds us of somebody at the family reunion who always talks too much, somebody at work who lies for no reason, or that one cousin who keeps saying he has a plan but never has gas money. Druski leans into that lane well.

Every family has at least one character. Maybe it is the uncle who swears he could have gone pro. Maybe it is the cousin with a new hustle every Thanksgiving. Maybe it is the church member who turns a simple announcement into a revival. Maybe it is the friend who knows every celebrity but somehow never has proof. Those people are everywhere, and Druski knows how to make them feel familiar without needing to explain the joke too much.

Some of the funniest people I ever knew never called themselves comedians. They were barbers, uncles, mechanics, church mothers, coworkers, neighbors, and old heads sitting outside the store. They could tell one story and have everybody laughing until they wiped tears from their eyes. No stage. No bright lights. No agent. Just timing, nerve, and the kind of memory that somehow made the story bigger every time.

That is the part I respect about Druski. Yes, he came up online. Yes, his path is different. But the root of what he does feels old school. He watches people closely. The fake serious face. The pause before a lie. The way somebody leans back when they think they said something deep. The nervous smile. The loud outfit. The man acting like he owns the building when he barely got inside. Little details like that make his skits land.

Now let me say this too. There is a real difference between online comedy and standing on a stage in a club. A video can be shot again. A bad take can disappear. A clip can be edited tighter before anybody sees it. Live comedy has no safety net. If that room goes quiet, everybody feels it. The comic feels it first. That silence can sit on your chest like a brick.

Some names just carry weight. Pryor, Bernie Mac, Eddie Murphy, and Dave Chappelle had to earn laughs in rooms where silence could humble a man fast. Katt Williams, Kevin Hart, and Mike Epps understand that pressure too. Different lanes, but the job stays simple. Walk in funny, or the crowd will let you know.

That does not take anything away from internet creators. It just means the work is different. Druski still has timing. He still has instincts. He still knows how to look ridiculous without looking lost. That matters. Plenty of people post videos every day and nobody cares. So when somebody breaks through and keeps folks watching, talent is involved whether folks admit it or not.

What I like is that he never seemed pressed to look perfect. Some men are too busy trying to be smooth to be funny. They protect their image so hard they cannot relax. Druski will look awkward, loud, confused, overconfident, or flat out wrong if it helps the bit. That takes a different kind of confidence. Everybody wants to look cool. Not everybody can let people laugh with them and at them.

His fake industry characters get me because I have seen those people before. The man talking rich but asking who paying for food. The manager with no real clients. The coach yelling at grown men like scouts are sitting courtside. The record label guy promising stardom from a folding chair. The dude who says he has connections, then nobody picks up when he calls. You may not know those exact people, but you know the type.

That is where his gift sits. He reminds us that everyday life already has plenty of comedy in it. You do not always need some big setup. Sometimes the funny part is just how somebody walks into a room. Sometimes it is the way a person tells a story and keeps adding details. Sometimes it is watching somebody act important for no reason at all.

Black folks have always laughed through hard seasons. That is just truth. Our elders laughed through things they barely talked about later. Parents laughed after long shifts and tight weeks. We laugh now because life can get heavy, and a good laugh gives the spirit a little room to breathe. It may not solve anything, but it helps you keep moving.

So I do not brush off what Druski brings. A skit will not fix the world. Nobody sensible thinks that. Still, making people smile has value. You can be having a rough day, see one clip, and your whole mood shifts for a few minutes. Sometimes that is enough to keep you from carrying the day too heavy.

Another thing worth noting is that he did not wait for Hollywood to open the door. Years ago, a young comic usually needed a show, a studio, a casting call, or somebody important to take a chance. Now folks can go straight to the audience. That sounds easy until you remember most people never build anything from it. Attention is cheap. Staying around takes work.

There is a lesson there for young creators. Going viral is one thing. Building a name is different. You have to know your lane. You have to keep showing up. You have to understand when to push a character and when to move on. Druski has done a good job turning quick laughs into a real brand, and that is not as simple as it looks.

I also appreciate that a lot of his humor comes from observation more than cruelty. Some people think being mean is the same thing as being funny. It is not. Anybody can insult somebody. Anybody can say something wild for attention. Druski usually works better when he is holding up a mirror. We laugh because we recognize the behavior. Sometimes we recognize ourselves too, and that is when it really hits.

Of course, every skit is not going to hit the same. Comedy never works that way. One person may love the sports stuff. Another may like the fake music business scenes. Somebody else may fall out laughing at the church type moments. That is fine. The larger point is that people keep sharing the clips because they see somebody they know.

That kind of laughter brings folks together. These days everything turns into an argument. Politics, music, sports, relationships, money, even food sometimes. So it feels good when people can just laugh at something familiar without turning it into a fight. Black joy does not always need a speech attached to it. Sometimes it is just a funny face, a wild voice, and a character who reminds you of home.

I do not know where Druski will be ten years from now. Maybe movies. Maybe more live shows. Maybe business opportunities open new doors. Maybe something none of us see coming yet. But I know this much. He has already given people a reason to laugh, and that counts.

I give Druski credit for one simple reason. He has made a lot of us laugh at people we already know. The cousin with big talk. The coach doing too much. The fake boss. The church personality. The loud friend nobody invited but everybody remembers. He caught that energy and put it on camera.

Which skit got you laughing like, “Yep, I know somebody just like that”?

Staff Writer; Jamar Jackson

This brother has a passion for poetry and music. One may contact him at; JJackson@ThyBlackMan.com.

I am still amazed at my own relationship with Christ, which began over 27 years ago. God radically changed my life instantly. A couple of my colleagues could not believe that the same person who drank beer with them during lunch the previous week was now saying he did not drink anymore. They never saw me go back on that testimony.

On the other hand, none of us has arrived. The Lord continues to work in our lives. We may not be aware that this is happening. He integrates this progressive work into our daily lives, exploiting opportunities to shape us into the image of His dear Son.

I believe that if Christians would be truthful, most of them would admit that they are not satisfied with their current relationship with Christ. Perhaps it’s because they are struggling morally in one or more areas in their life, and they can’t seem to get victory. Or maybe they feel inept to effectively do what they know God has called them to do in the ministry. Maybe they don’t even know exactly what it is, but they just know something is missing in their relationship with the Lord.

Listen to what the Lord inspired Paul the apostle to say about this: “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6). I want to look at three key words in this verse:

The first word is confident. We must know without a shadow of a doubt that God continues to work in our lives. Have you ever heard a Christian who has a bad temper try to justify his outbursts of rage? He may say, “I can’t help it; God made me this way.” But it’s not the will of God for His children to go about erupting into tantrums. We need to pray for victory in that area. Such prayer for personal change must be undergirded by a confidence that it is the will of God to continuously change us into the image of Christ.

The second word is begun. The good work the Lord has begun in us is salvation. This experience does not denote spiritual maturity. The truth is that when we first got saved we didn’t act much differently than we did before we met Christ. That’s because we were babes in Christ. Not knowing what to do, we did what we knew. Through salvation, however, the Lord has provided us everything we need to become the great champion He wants us to ultimately become.

The third word is perform. I quoted Paul’s words from the King James Version of the Bible. The word “perform” from this verse means to “bring to completion.” You see, God wants to complete the good work He has begun in us. He will not be finished with us until the very end of our journey here. Thanks to the Lord’s salvation in our lives, we are no longer what we used to be, but because of His progressive work in our lives, neither are we yet what we are destined to become!

Paul’s letter to the Philippians is addressed to “all the saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi” (Philippians 1:1). The word “saints” applies only to those who have been saved. But it is important to understand that though salvation is instant, sanctification is a lifetime endeavor.

A lot of misconception has been perpetuated by believers who refuse to be for real. They have promoted this false idea that when a person becomes born again he almost walks on water. Some unbelievers who might accept Christ feel intimidated because they have been given this misconception that being a Christian denotes perfection. Not that we necessarily make statements that bluntly, but at times when someone fails we comment, “I know he said he was a Christian, but he must not be if he did something like that.” Well, friend, sometimes Christians do non Christian like things.

Even prominent ministers bear out the truth of what I am saying. As I write this message, I am reminded of three ministers who made the news big time last year in bad ways. I won’t name them. My intent is not to add embarrassment to them, but to expand on my point. Each of these ministers had national influence. A couple of them pastored megachurches. Because of their moral failures, none of them presently remain in those leadership positions.

Understandably, many Christians who had supported these ministers felt betrayed. They came on TV and stood behind pulpits telling the people of God how to live a victorious Christian life, and they themselves were not doing the same, some argue. Then some of the Christians at the grassroots felt that if these bigger than life preachers failed in such a big way, what hope was there for the little guy?

There is no way to put a positive spin on what those preachers did, the events were tragic for the body of Christ, the devil rejoiced over them, and the ministers involved no doubt endured much pain. But it is also important for us to remember that though ministers are saved and called to preach, God is still working on them as well. Being called to preach the gospel does not denote perfection.

The Bible says that the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: “and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would” (Galatians 5:17). God inspired Paul to write this to the Christians at Galatia. He is telling us that a war exists within us. It’s between our born again spirit and our flesh. The one always goes contrary to the direction of the other. In this life, we will never be immune to be being tempted in our flesh. God’s will for each of us, however, is that we learn how to walk in the Spirit that we not fulfill the desires of our flesh (verse 16). This we will do if we cooperate with His progressive work in our lives. By that I mean we must be committed to fully developing. Some Christians fail to mature because they are not ready to die to themselves in some areas.

Perhaps as you read this article you are not where you want to be in Christ. You may even wonder how you will ever reach spiritual maturity, based on where you currently are, and where you desire to be. But believe me, friend, the Lord is not finished with you yet.

He deals with each of us differently for a number of reasons. You may be struggling in an area that you have been battling for the past decade, yet you know of new converts who had the same problem but God just miraculously took it away from them at salvation. That seems so unfair, right? Your theology is as good as mine as to why it happens that way. For example, I know believers who have been delivered from drugs and alcohol but who can’t seem to leave cigarettes alone. But I say never give up. Never read into your lack of progress in an area of spiritual development that God wants you to remain that way. Rather, for the struggles that make you feel less than complete, you must pray and seek the face of God, being confident that He has begun a good work in you, and He is committed to finishing the same.

Staff Writer; Frank King

You can contact this devout Christian at: King@ThyBlackMan.com.

When she rose to the national stage, I understood why a lot of Black folks felt something. A Black woman standing that close to the presidency was no small thing. I do not care how many people try to act like firsts do not matter anymore. They still matter when you know how long our people were told to stay in our place. They still matter when you remember there was a time not that long ago when a Black woman could be brilliant, prepared, educated, and still be expected to sit in the back and take notes for somebody less qualified.

But pride does not mean blindness. I never believed Black people had to clap for every politician just because that person has some connection to us. That is not wisdom. That is emotional spending. We have done too much of that already. Harris has a record. She has choices behind her. She has political alliances. She has things that need explaining. Any serious Black voter should be able to say that without being accused of hating his own people.

Still, something about the way this country has gone after her has never sat right with me.

I am a middle aged Brother from the South, so I know a little something about being told to act right before you even know what you did wrong. A lot of us grew up hearing it. Speak clearly. Do not get loud. Keep your hands where folks can see them. Dress decent. Do not embarrass the family. Do not give people a reason to mess with you. Some of that was good home training. Some of it was survival talk. Our elders knew what kind of country we were walking into.

They were not trying to make us scared. They were trying to keep us alive.

That is what people now call respectability politics, but we did not need a college term for it back then. We just knew there were rules. Rules for how you talked around white folks. Rules for how you carried yourself at work. Rules for how much anger you could show before somebody decided you were dangerous. Rules for how clean you had to be before somebody still treated you dirty.

The former vice president has had to live under those rules in front of the whole nation. Too polished, and people call her fake. Too serious, and they say she is cold. Too sharp, and now she has an attitude. Too relaxed, and they say she is not ready. She laughs, and folks act like the woman committed a federal offense. I have never seen so many grown people bothered by a laugh. That told me long ago that some of the issue was not just policy.

Now, I am not going to play games. Some Black men did not connect with her. That is real. I have heard it in conversations. Some brothers never trusted her because of her prosecutor background. Some felt she was too tied to the same Democratic machine that keeps asking Black folks for loyalty while giving us speeches in return. Some felt she never spoke directly enough to the struggles of Black men. Some just did not feel her. Everybody is not going to connect with everybody.

And truthfully, Democrats need to stop acting shocked when Black men ask questions. We have the right to ask what somebody plans to do about jobs, fatherhood, crime, small business, housing, education, prison reentry, and the cost of living. We have the right to ask why our votes are treated like family property. We have the right to want more than a church visit, a few phrases, and a reminder that the other side is worse.

So no, this is not me saying she should be protected from criticism. She should not be. She is a politician. Politicians need pressure. They need questions. They need somebody standing there saying, “That sounds nice, but what does it mean for my neighborhood?”

But there is a line, and too many people have crossed it with her.

There is a difference between saying you do not like her record and acting like her very presence offends you. There is a difference between asking what she has done and spending all day mocking how she talks. There is a difference between questioning her judgment and acting like ambition from a Black woman is something nasty. We know the difference. Some folks pretend they do not, but grown people know.

I think about that as a Black man because I know how fast people can turn confidence into arrogance when it comes from us. I know how quickly they can see threat where there is none. A brother can stand straight, speak firmly, and look somebody in the eye, and suddenly he is intimidating. He can be quiet, and they say he is suspicious. He can be passionate, and they say he is angry. That game is old.

Black women deal with their own version of it. It is not the same, but it comes from the same place. A Black woman can be prepared and they call her rehearsed. She can be direct and they call her mean. She can be careful and they call her phony. She can be joyful and they call her unserious. She can be ambitious and they act like she is trying to take something that belongs to somebody else.

That is why this conversation gets bigger than one woman.

She has become a place where people dump a lot of their feelings about Black women in power. Some of those feelings are fair political frustration. Some of them are something else entirely. I have heard people criticize her in ways they would never use for a white man with a longer list of failures. I have seen people demand warmth from her while accepting arrogance from others. I have watched folks call her unqualified while praising people who could not carry her resume in a grocery bag.

That is not politics. That is the old sickness wearing a new suit.

Down South, you learn to listen for what people are not saying. Everybody does not have to use ugly language for you to know the spirit behind the comment. Sometimes “she is not likable” means something else. Sometimes “she is too ambitious” means something else. Sometimes “she does not seem authentic” means folks do not know what to do with a Black woman who is not begging to be approved.

And let me be clear. Not every person who dislikes Harris is racist. Not every person who questions her is sexist. That kind of lazy thinking does not help anybody. We have to leave room for honest disagreement. We have to leave room for Black folks who simply are not moved by her politics. I know I have my own questions.

But we also cannot act slow. America did not suddenly become fair when she showed up. The same country that doubted Barack Obama’s birth certificate was never going to look at a Black woman near the presidency and behave itself. Some of us knew that before the first attack landed.

Respectability politics always had a problem. It promised more than it could deliver. It told Black folks that if we were neat enough, polite enough, educated enough, calm enough, and careful enough, maybe America would finally treat us right. But many of us have lived long enough to know better. You can do everything right and still be treated like you got in the room by mistake.

Harris is proof of that. She checks plenty of the boxes America claims to value. She is educated. She has experience. She knows how to speak in official settings. She has served in major offices. She is not some reckless person who just wandered onto the stage. Yet people still talk about her like she has to prove basic competence every morning before breakfast.

That has to get exhausting.

I do not need her to be perfect. I do not need her to be my political savior. I do not need her to represent every Black woman, every Black family, or every hope our ancestors carried. That is too much weight for one person. What I do need is for us to have enough sense to separate critique from disrespect.

Ask her about policy. Ask her about criminal justice. Ask her about the economy. Ask her what she plans to do for Black communities if she wants power again. Ask her what she learned from past mistakes. Ask all of that. We should.

But do not sit beside people who only want to use your criticism as cover for their hatred. That is where Black folks have to be careful. Everybody who agrees with your complaint is not your ally. Some people will nod along with you for five minutes, then use your words to help tear down somebody they never respected in the first place.

That is the part we should understand by now.

This whole story has shown us how narrow the road still is. A Black person can rise high and still be told to shrink. A Black woman can make history and still be treated like she needs permission to stand there. A politician can deserve criticism and still be facing something deeper than politics.

As for me, I can hold both truths. I can question her and still recognize the weight she has carried. I can disagree with her and still refuse to mock her humanity. I can say she needs to answer for her record without joining folks who never wanted a Black woman that close to power anyway.

That is not blind loyalty. That is grown man thinking.

Respectability may help you survive some rooms, but it will not set you free. That is the lesson I keep coming back to. You can dress right, speak right, smile right, and play by every rule they hand you. Then when you get too close to real authority, they change the rules again.

She is not the first Black person to learn that. She will not be the last. But her story reminds us that we still have work to do, not just in politics, but in how we judge Black leadership, Black women, and each other.

Staff Writer; L.L. McKenna

Politics explained through the lens of justice and equity. Offering perspective that informs, challenges, and empowers.

One can contact this brother at; LLMcKenna@ThyBlackMan.com.

I understand both sides. I really do.

Michael Jackson had the bigger fame. I do not see how anybody can sit there with a straight face and deny that. Michael became something beyond a singer. He became a world figure. A child in a small town knew him. A dancer overseas knew him. A grandmother who did not buy pop albums still knew that glove, that hat, that moonwalk, and that little kick before he slid across the floor. He was one of those rare people who did not need an introduction after a certain point. The room knew before the announcer finished talking.

But fame is not the same as influence. That is where the debate gets good.

Fame is everybody knowing your name. Influence is somebody moving like you, singing like you, building a beat from you, or borrowing your stage language fifty years after your first big moment. Fame gets loud. Influence gets buried deep. Fame makes headlines. Influence shows up in somebody else’s song, somebody else’s footwork, somebody else’s band, somebody else’s drum break, and sometimes folks do not even realize where it came from.

That is why James Brown is hard to move out of the way.

Before Michael became the King of Pop, James Brown had already made rhythm the main character. You can hear it in “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag.” You can hear it in “I Got You. (I Feel Good)” You can really hear it in “Cold Sweat.” Those songs were not just records playing on the radio. They were lessons. James was showing everybody that a song did not have to float on melody alone. The beat could talk. The bass could talk. The horns could talk. A grunt could be part of the arrangement. A scream could land right where a snare drum should have been.

That was not by accident either. James Brown knew exactly what he was doing. Folks sometimes act like he was just wild energy in a suit, but that brother was disciplined. He ran that band like a man running a business and a church choir at the same time. If the drummer missed something, James heard it. If the horn section came in lazy, James caught it. If the groove was not right, nobody on that stage got to relax. He might have been sweating through his clothes, sliding across the floor, and dropping to his knees, but do not mistake movement for chaos. James Brown was control dressed up as fire.

Now let us walk through the eras a little bit, because that is where this debate gets even richer.

In the 1970s, James Brown was already a grown man’s storm. “Get Up I Feel Like Being A Sex Machine” was not built like a regular song. It felt like a command. “Super Bad” had so much strut in it you could almost see somebody stepping out of a Cadillac in a sharp coat. “Soul Power” sounded like Black pride with horns behind it. “Make It Funky” did exactly what the title said. No mystery. No begging. Just make the thing funky and let the people catch up.

Then there was “The Payback.” Lord have mercy, that record still sounds like trouble walking slow. Not foolish trouble. Not reckless trouble. I mean the kind of trouble that comes from a man who has been wronged and is not asking permission to feel what he feels. That groove is patient. Mean. Grown. It does not rush because it knows it already owns the room. “Funky President” had a political edge to it, but it still moved. “Papa Don’t Take No Mess” sounded like somebody’s uncle who did not have to explain himself twice.

And I cannot talk about James Brown’s influence without giving proper respect to “Say It Loud, I’m Black And I’m Proud.” That song was bigger than radio. It helped Black folks say out loud what society kept trying to beat down, hide, and make us feel ashamed of. James Brown gave pride a rhythm. He made Blackness sound bold, strong, and public at a time when many of our people needed to hear somebody say it without fear. That record was not just funk. That was identity. That was a whole people straightening their backs, lifting their heads, and understanding that being Black was not something to apologize for. Michael Jackson became the bigger global superstar, but James Brown gave Black people an anthem that helped us embrace ourselves.

At the same time, Michael was coming through the 70s in another way. With the Jackson 5, he had already touched America with “ABC,” “The Love You Save,” “I’ll Be There,” and “Never Can Say Goodbye.” That little boy could sing pain before he had lived enough life to explain it. That was the mystery of Michael early on. His voice was young, but it carried something older. You could hear innocence and heartbreak standing beside each other.

By the late 70s, Michael was no longer just the little brother with the big voice. “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” announced that he was stepping into his own grown sound. “Rock With You” was smooth enough to make a whole room feel like the lights had dimmed. “Off The Wall” had joy in it. Not forced joy either. It sounded like release. That album was the door opening before the whole world rushed in.

Still, even then, you could see James Brown’s shadow. Not in a cheap copycat way. Michael was too gifted for that. But Michael studied the great ones, and James was one of the great ones he studied closely. The sharp stops, the quick feet, the body control, the way a dancer could attack silence between beats, all of that had roots. Michael polished it until it looked like magic. James gave it to you like sweat flying off a man who had something to prove.

Then the 1980s came, and Michael Jackson took over the planet.

“Billie Jean” was more than a hit song. That record felt like a door opening into a new kind of stardom. The bassline was simple, but it had a walk to it. When Michael performed it and gave the world that moonwalk, everything changed. “Beat It” crossed into rock without leaving soul behind. “Thriller” turned a music video into an event. People did not just watch it. They gathered for it. “Wanna Be Startin Somethin” had that restless energy that could still fill a dance floor. Then came “Bad,” “The Way You Make Me Feel,” “Smooth Criminal,” “Dirty Diana,” and “Man In The Mirror.”

That run was not normal. That was a man standing in the middle of pop culture and telling everybody else to move around him.

Michael understood the screen better than most entertainers of that time. He knew the pause mattered. He knew the entrance mattered. He knew the clothes, the lighting, the dancers, and the camera angle all worked together. After Michael, big pop performance could not be lazy anymore. If you wanted to be that kind of star, you had to bring a full show. You could not just sing into the microphone and expect folks to call it legendary.

James Brown in the 80s was not sitting at the same table commercially. He was not the young ruler anymore. But that does not mean he was gone. “Living In America” put him back in front of a new crowd, and even if that record had a shinier 80s sound, it still reminded people who he was. The interesting part is that while Michael was dominating the decade on television, James Brown was living inside the music from underneath. Hip hop was rising, and those producers kept digging into James Brown’s catalog like they had found gold in the backyard.

That is where influence starts outlasting chart position.

By the 1990s, Michael was still huge. “Black Or White” was a worldwide moment. “Remember The Time” gave us that smooth groove and one of his best videos. “Jam” had a harder edge. “In The Closet” was grown and tense. “Scream” with Janet sounded like two famous people tired of being chewed up by the machine. “They Don’t Care About Us” had anger in it. “Earth Song” was dramatic, maybe too dramatic for some people, but it showed Michael still wanted to make music that felt big. “You Are Not Alone” proved he could still stand inside a ballad and make the world listen.

But the 90s also showed just how deep James Brown’s reach had gone. Hip hop was not just borrowing from him here and there. It was building with pieces of him. Producers used his drum breaks, his grunts, his grooves, his screams, his band hits, his whole sense of rhythm. Public Enemy, Eric B. and Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, LL Cool J, Heavy D, N.W.A, and plenty more moved through music that had James Brown somewhere in the walls. A young person could be riding around listening to rap and still be hearing James without knowing it.

That is the kind of influence you cannot measure by screams at a concert.

Michael influenced performers who wanted to become stars. James influenced the very structure of the music they were standing on. Michael made you ask how to create a moment. James made you ask how to make the body move.

By the 2000s, things had changed again. Michael’s public life had become heavy, and the industry had shifted. Still, “You Rock My World” showed he could still glide through a groove. “Butterflies” was beautiful and does not get enough respect. “Break Of Dawn” had a late night R&B feel that grown folks could appreciate. “Whatever Happens” had a different kind of maturity. The Invincible album did not rule the world like Thriller or Bad, but that does not mean the music had no value. People were sometimes so caught up in the noise around Michael that they stopped listening fairly.

Even with all that noise around him, Michael’s fingerprints were still all over the place. You could see it in Usher’s footwork, Chris Brown’s sharp dance breaks, Ginuwine’s smoothness, Ne Yo’s stage style, and even Justin Timberlake trying to carry that pop and R&B mix. None of them were Michael, but you could tell they grew up in the world he helped build. The hat tilt, the pause before a move, the dancers lined up behind the star, the way a man could walk on stage and already look like a performance before he sang one word, Michael helped make that normal.

James Brown in the 2000s was an elder by then, but he still did not feel small. He was already permanent. Young artists did not need him to have a new radio hit to prove he mattered. The samples had already proved it. The dancers had already proved it. The funk bands had already proved it. The rappers had already proved it. Even the way people talked about stage presence had a little James Brown in it. When folks say somebody “worked” the stage, that road runs through James.

Coming from the South, I hear James Brown in a particular way. He sounds like sweat, church, tobacco roads, juke joints, shiny shoes, hard times, and a man who learned how to turn pressure into command. He was not always pretty. He was not supposed to be. He had that raw thing in him. That thing older folks recognize when somebody has had to fight for every inch. His music did not ask you to sit still and admire it. It grabbed you by the shoulders.

Michael was different. Michael gave us wonder. He gave us fantasy. He gave us polish. He could sound soft on “Human Nature,” wounded on “She’s Out Of My Life,” bold on “Bad,” lonely on “Stranger In Moscow,” and almost spiritual on “Man In The Mirror.” People who reduce Michael to the glove and moonwalk are not listening carefully enough. That man had feeling in his voice. Real feeling. He could make a line sound like a secret.

James Brown carried a different kind of weight, plain and simple. “Please, Please, Please” sounded like a man begging with his whole chest, not just singing into a microphone. “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World” had all that old school pride, pain, ego, and hurt sitting inside it at the same time. But “Say It Loud, I’m Black And I’m Proud” was something else. That one was bigger than a hit record. For a lot of Black folks, that song helped put some steel in the spine. It came through the speakers saying what many of our people needed to hear out loud. You did not have to shrink. You did not have to be ashamed. You did not have to explain your Blackness to anybody. James Brown could entertain the room, but he could also remind you to stand up straighter before the song was over.

So where do I land?

Michael Jackson was bigger. No question. Bigger fame. Bigger global reach. Bigger videos. Bigger pop moments. Bigger worldwide image. At his peak, Michael was not just competing with other singers. He was competing with the idea of fame itself.

But James Brown may have been deeper. He changed the groove. He changed the band. He changed how rhythm worked in Black popular music. He helped shape funk, and funk helped shape hip hop, R&B, dance music, and so much more. He influenced Michael too, and that matters in this conversation. If the man you are comparing him to studied him, then you cannot brush him aside.

I look at it like this. Michael Jackson was the tallest tree in the yard. Everybody could see him from the road. James Brown was part of the root system under the ground. You might not always see roots, but you better believe the tree needs them.

Michael made the world watch.

James made the world move.

And where I come from, brother, movement tells the truth.

Staff Writer; Jamar Jackson

This brother has a passion for poetry and music. One may contact him at; JJackson@ThyBlackMan.com.

The traditional path to business ownership required capital, location, licensing, and years of relationship-building before revenue materialized. Digital platforms have compressed that timeline significantly. A well-built online business can reach customers in multiple countries before it turns six months old. That geographic reach was once reserved for corporations with international offices and logistics infrastructure. Today it is available to any operator who understands the technology.

Where the real opportunity sits

The most durable digital businesses are not built on content alone. They are built on infrastructure — platforms that process transactions, manage users, and deliver services at scale. The entrepreneurs who have understood this early have moved from building individual products to building systems that other businesses run on.

This is visible across industries. Fintech platforms now power payment flows for businesses that never touch a bank branch. SaaS companies provide the back-end for operations that look, from the outside, like entirely different companies. In online entertainment, Vegangster represents this model — a platform infrastructure provider that equips operators to launch and scale digital businesses rather than building everything independently from zero.

The pattern is the same across categories: the platform layer captures value consistently, while individual products rise and fall.

What digital ownership actually requires

The accessibility of digital business models can obscure how much operational discipline they still demand. A platform-based business still needs clean financial management, customer acquisition strategy, and an understanding of the regulatory environment it operates in. The difference is that the infrastructure constraints — physical space, supply chains, local staffing — are largely removed.

For entrepreneurs entering the digital economy, the most important early decision is often not what product to build, but which platform layer to build on or with. Choosing an infrastructure partner with documented reliability, real integrations, and transparent pricing is the equivalent of choosing the right commercial real estate in a physical business — it shapes everything downstream.

The compounding advantage

What separates digital wealth-building from traditional models is the compounding dynamic. A physical business generates revenue proportional to its capacity. A well-structured digital operation can grow revenue without proportionally growing costs — because the marginal cost of serving an additional customer through software infrastructure is close to zero.

This is why the entrepreneurs who entered digital platforms early, even in categories that seemed niche or speculative, have built significant asset bases. The question for the next generation of Black entrepreneurs is not whether digital platforms represent a real opportunity — that case is settled. The question is which categories still have room to move, and how quickly operators can build the operational knowledge to compete in them.

The digital economy does not have a fixed number of seats. It expands with participation. That is the part of this conversation that does not get enough attention.

Staff Writer; Ricky Brown

A lot of Black men understood early that Obama was going to face pressure most presidents never had to deal with. You could feel it before he even entered the White House. Folks questioned where the man was born. They mocked his name. Some acted uncomfortable simply because a confident Black man with intelligence and composure suddenly stood in front of the entire world commanding attention. Brothers watching all this unfold knew exactly what was happening even when television tried pretending otherwise. Many of us grew up understanding how quickly society can become threatened once a Black man carries himself with confidence without asking permission from anybody.

What impressed me most about Obama was the restraint. Now let us be honest as Black men for a second. There were countless moments where many brothers would have snapped publicly dealing with the level of disrespect he faced. People interrupted him. Mocked him. Lied about him daily. Tried reducing everything about him down to anger, race, or conspiracy theories. Yet the man stayed composed over and over again. That taught many young Black men something important without him even saying it directly. Emotional control is power too.

See, many brothers grow up being told we must remain calm in situations where others are allowed to lose control freely. One emotional reaction can cost us jobs, opportunities, freedom, or even safety. Obama understood that reality deeply. He knew certain people desperately wanted him angry because anger would have fed stereotypes already sitting inside their minds. Instead, he often answered pressure with preparation, patience, humor, or silence. Watching that level of discipline inspired many brothers quietly whether they admit it or not.

The thing I respected was that Obama never came off weak either. Some people confuse composure with softness because modern culture worships loud behavior. Obama never needed fake toughness to command respect. He walked into rooms filled with world leaders and looked completely comfortable standing there. The brother understood who he was. Young Black men needed to see that badly during those years because too often society pushes brothers toward extremes. Either you are expected to be overly aggressive or completely passive. Obama showed another lane entirely.

And let us talk honestly about what it meant seeing a Black family inside the White House carrying themselves with dignity. That mattered deeply inside Black households across America. Seeing Obama speak proudly about his daughters. Seeing the respect between him and Michelle Obama. Seeing structure, education, love, and discipline connected to a Black family on the world stage changed how many young brothers viewed themselves mentally. Some people will never fully understand how powerful that image became for Black America.

For years society pushed narratives about broken Black homes constantly. Television loved showing dysfunction while ignoring millions of hardworking Black fathers raising families quietly every day. Obama represented another image entirely. The brother looked like somebody grounded. Somebody thoughtful. Somebody trying to lead while still protecting his family from the madness surrounding politics. A lot of older Black men respected that because many came from generations where carrying yourself with dignity mattered heavily.

Another thing young brothers connected with was Obama making intelligence look powerful. Let us keep it real. In some environments, young Black boys get pressured into hiding intelligence just to fit in socially. Some brothers grow up feeling like education somehow makes them less authentic. Obama changed that mindset for many people. The brother read books openly. Spoke carefully. Thought deeply before answering questions. He made professionalism look strong instead of corny. Teachers noticed it. Parents noticed it. Young Black men noticed it too.

Even the way Obama handled criticism taught lessons. There were politicians and media personalities saying outrageous things about him constantly. Some crossed lines previous presidents probably never would have experienced publicly. Yet Obama rarely lowered himself into emotional chaos. That patience frustrated many people because they wanted him rattled publicly. They wanted to see the angry Black man stereotype come alive on television. Instead, Obama stayed disciplined.

Now that does not mean everybody agreed with every political decision he made. No president escapes criticism. Some brothers wanted him to move differently on certain issues. Others wished he addressed race more directly during particular moments. That conversation is fair. But this article is bigger than political debates. This is about recognizing how the man carried himself under unbelievable pressure while the entire world watched his every move.

A lot of Black men saw pieces of themselves in Obama’s balancing act. Going into workplaces where you know people question your intelligence before you even speak. Feeling pressure to remain composed while others get emotional freely. Understanding one mistake can follow you longer because you are Black. Obama navigated all of that publicly on the biggest stage imaginable. That reality connected deeply with many brothers trying to survive similar pressures in everyday life.

I also think older Black men felt emotional watching Obama because they came from generations that never believed they would see a Black president during their lifetime. Some lived through segregation. Some marched during Civil Rights years. Some grew up watching Black men denied opportunities openly. Then suddenly there was a Black family living in the White House carrying themselves with grace while representing America globally. That meant something beyond politics.

Young brothers especially needed that example though. They needed to see a Black man operate with confidence, intelligence, patience, humor, and emotional discipline without constantly proving masculinity through aggression. Obama gave many young men permission mentally to think bigger about themselves. College suddenly felt more reachable for some. Public speaking looked cool again. Reading books did not seem lame anymore. Representation matters whether people admit it or not.

One thing I always respected was how Obama never seemed desperate for validation. The brother looked secure inside himself. He could joke naturally. He could speak seriously when needed. He could stand firm without screaming. That type of confidence inspired many Black men because true strength usually speaks calmly.

Now before somebody jumps straight into policy arguments, understand this piece focuses more on the cultural and emotional impact Obama had on many Black men across generations. Brothers respected how the man handled pressure because life already teaches many of us how heavy pressure can become.

And honestly, I would like to know what moment during Barack Obama’s presidency connected with you personally the most. Was it election night? A speech? Watching him interact with his family? Or maybe it was simply seeing a Black man carry himself with grace while the whole world waited for him to fall apart publicly?

Staff Writer; L.L. McKenna

Politics explained through the lens of justice and equity. Offering perspective that informs, challenges, and empowers.

One can contact this brother at; LLMcKenna@ThyBlackMan.com.

Some of us were trained before we had words for it. Do not smile too much. Do not look too happy. Do not let folks think you are soft. Do not let strangers read you. Watch your mouth. Watch your hands. Watch your face. Boy, that is a lot to put on somebody who is still learning how to be alive. Yet many of us grew up hearing warnings wrapped in love, because our fathers, uncles, coaches, and grandfathers knew the world could mistake an open spirit for weakness.

I understand why they taught it. I am not sitting here acting brand new. There are places where a Black male has to pay attention. A wrong look can cause trouble. A wrong tone can invite foolishness. A wrong step can turn a simple day into something heavy. We know that. Still, I wonder what all that caution has cost us. A man can spend so much time protecting himself that he forgets what his real face looks like when nobody is threatening him.

There is a certain kind of smile I miss seeing. Not the picture smile. Not the one people use when they are trying to sell something. I mean that slow, easy one that comes when a man is at peace for a minute. You might see it when he is holding a grandbaby. You might catch it when old school music comes on at a cookout. You might notice it when he tastes something that reminds him of his grandmother. Nothing big happened. No trumpet sounded. His soul just had a small opening, and something good walked through it.

We need to stop acting like a good moment has to be earned. That is where many of us get trapped. We tell ourselves we can rest later. Laugh later. Sit down later. Enjoy our people later. After this bill. After this repair. After this doctor visit. After this school issue. After this job stops acting crazy. But later is slippery. Later will let a man chase it for forty years and still not turn around. At some point you have to take the mercy sitting right in front of you.

I am not talking about being careless. A grown man ought to handle his responsibilities. Nobody who loves his family wants to be lazy, childish, or absent. That is not the point. Responsibility was never meant to rob a man of his light. You can pay bills and still laugh at the table. You can be firm and still show warmth. You can correct a son and hug him afterward. You can lead a home without walking through it like a storm cloud. Some of us think we are showing strength, but the people close to us may only feel distance.

A wife can feel that distance. Children can too. They may know you love them, but they may not know how to come close. They hear the car pull in and start checking the mood in the room. They know whether the chair squeaks, whether the keys hit the counter hard, whether the television goes on before anybody gets a word in. That is not written to shame any man, because I know work and pressure can drain the best of us. Still, we ought to ask ourselves what our homes feel like when we enter them.

A father’s smile can change the weather inside a house. It can tell a little girl she does not have to perform for affection. It can tell a boy manhood does not have to look like silence and a clenched jaw. It can tell a wife that her husband is still reachable, not just present. That matters. A lot of families have men who provide, but everybody tiptoes around them. Provision is important, but warmth is part of covering a family too.

I think about the older men I grew up around. Some of them laughed loud at the barbershop, then went quiet the minute they got home. Some could joke with friends, but struggled to speak gently to their own children. Some had been hurt so long they did not know how to soften without feeling exposed. I see them differently now. Back then, I thought they were just hard. Now I know many were carrying things nobody ever asked about. Grief. War memories. Racism on the job. Debt. Failed dreams. Bad knees. Regret. Pride. A man can bury a whole life under the words, I am fine.

That is why brothers need other brothers who will tell the truth without clowning pain. We need friends who can say, “You alright?” and mean it. We need circles where a man can admit he is tired without somebody calling him weak. We need older men who can show younger ones that faith is not only about enduring. It is also about receiving. God did not breathe life into us just so we could grind ourselves into dust. There is blessing in a quiet meal, a child’s laugh, a decent night of sleep, and a sunrise you actually stop to notice.

Southern folks know how to stretch a small blessing when we let ourselves. A plate from somebody who can cook. Shade under a tree. A neighbor waving from the porch. Rain hitting a tin roof. Somebody at church singing off key but meaning every word. A fish fry where nobody is in a rush. These things may not impress the world, but they have carried our people through many seasons. Maybe that is the lesson. Gladness does not always come dressed up. Sometimes it shows up in work pants, with a paper plate in one hand and a folding chair waiting in the yard.

There are times when a smile will not come easy. Loss can sit on a man’s chest. Bad news can steal the taste from food. Money trouble can make sleep feel impossible. Marriage strain can turn home into a place of tension. Sickness can humble anybody. I would never tell a hurting brother to pretend. Pretending is not healing. But I would tell him not to give all his days to sorrow. Even in a hard season, one honest laugh is not betrayal. It is not denial. It is a small reminder that pain is not the owner of the whole house.

So I am saying this to myself as much as anybody else. Stop waiting until every problem is solved before you let your face soften. Stop treating gladness like a paycheck you have not earned yet. Stop thinking your family only needs your labor. They need to see you live. They need to know you can feel good without apologizing for it. Brother, you do not have to prove you suffered enough. You do not have to win every fight first. Black men, joy is not something you have to earn. Sometimes it is already near you, waiting for you to stop pushing it away.

Staff Writer; Lee Walker

This brother is a fitness trainer with 12 years of experience, focused on building strength, clarity, and real health within the Black community. Through his writing, Mr. Walker hopes to uplift younger Black men and men in general through honest conversations about fitness, financial pressure, fatherhood, discipline, mental wellness, and the importance of brotherhood.

Have questions? Reach me at LeeW@ThyBlackMan.com.