(ThyBlackMan.com) We live in an era when mediocrity has long been sold and served to us, with no sign of slowing down. We are bombarded with mediocrity when we turn on our television or surf the internet. That includes our current president, Donald J. Trump, alongside cabinet members such as Secretary of War Pete Hegseth and HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. Many contend that these individuals are mediocre on a good day and woefully incompetent on most others. I’ve never wanted to sample, settle for, or keep mediocrity on my menu for long. Yet in the United States of America, the mediocrity of people across various genders, races, and socioeconomic statuses has allowed them to bypass the route of excellence that many Black Americans are expected to follow and that they require their children to achieve.
From 1969 to 1972, the soulful music of two of our greatest songstresses—the late, great Nina Simone and Aretha Franklin—resonated deeply with Black Americans, reminding us that being young, gifted, and Black is not something to overcome, but something to celebrate and embrace. Black excellence has flourished throughout the years, from carrying the cross for Jesus to creating the three-position traffic signal, mobile refrigeration, and home security systems, along with countless other contributions that have helped move America and civilization forward. Despite our excellence, we must ask ourselves whether our soul is still intact. Being Black doesn’t make us immune to mediocrity, nor does it guarantee that our souls will always remain intact. What makes us good is our love for God and our unapologetic Black pride—even when others think we’re being too loud or see us as different for being “too Black.” Even in 2026, we can all remember the words of the late, great James Brown: “Say it loud, I’m black, and I’m proud.”
In the case of Nevada Pierre, the three-year-old Black American soccer player who was reported to the police by a legal official, we see the persistent fear of Black excellence that has existed in the hearts and minds of many mediocre individuals since 1619. Unfortunately, some individuals still single out exceptional Black performance negatively, despite our commitment to striving for excellence, being the best, and achieving success. In recent years, American society has become accustomed to celebrating participation, even though, in practice, it rarely recognizes participation, while excellence usually is. For many individuals, Black American achievement is viewed as a problem: some believe we are too vocal about it, while others see it as inconsistent with the underclass narrative they have imposed upon us. Despite the objections from mediocre individuals, Black Americans must continue to promote and celebrate our achievements whenever possible.
Fear, the loss of control, and a closed mindset have caused and will continue to cause mediocre individuals to escalate situations regarding Black achievement to law enforcement or a higher power in hopes that they can stop it or prohibit it from occurring. Many individuals who are mediocre and have closed minds fail to realize that Black achievement is here to stay regardless of who they involve and the crooked laws they try to legislate. The burden of negative escalation that comes with being young, gifted, Black, and successful is one we can learn to carry with strength and resilience. Each generation has a meaningful role in guiding and supporting the next—not only by celebrating their achievements, but also by showing them how to carry life’s challenges with resilience, without compromising their values or giving up.
Now is the perfect time for Black America to reconnect. If we desire our reconnection to be sustainable, we must end the gender wars and the diaspora wars. Nevada Pierre and all our children need us, not because they play sports or because they are the smartest in their class. Our children need our support because, in American society and around the world, they may encounter people who make them feel they don’t belong and undermine their confidence and sense of self-worth. We can help them feel valued, supported, and secure in who they are. Our local churches and houses of worship, our communities, grassroots and national civil rights organizations, and the places we each call home should provide the refuge and sense of teamwork that our children—and all of us—need.
Our individual perspectives are shaped by our experiences, beliefs, emotions, biases, education, and surroundings. Mainstream society often teaches children like Nevada Pierre—and all our beautifully complected Black children and adults—that our behavior may be seen as disruptive, regardless of our good intentions or achievements. As children of God and protectors of our children and communities, we must always advocate for our children, our women, our elders, and ourselves, even if doing so means being shunned or viewed negatively. Because of implicit bias, many may see our assertiveness as problematic rather than as advocacy. But with God’s help, we can overcome every bias and challenge if we keep the faith and come together as one.
The world and society at large are always sending a message to the Black community, which should lead us to ask: Will my child and I be welcomed to succeed even if we are better than the mediocre individuals who are around us? Will my children or I be heard if we raise concerns? Will my family’s advocacy be interpreted fairly?
Yet history reminds us that our progress has never depended solely on permission. We come from people who have always turned obstacles into opportunities, exclusion into excellence, and doubt into determination. What matters isn’t whether everyone welcomes our success—it’s that we keep pursuing it with confidence and purpose. Our responsibility is to help our children know their worth before the world tries to define it, speak with confidence even when their voices are challenged, and embrace their gifts without feeling they have to shrink to make others comfortable. Let’s never mistake resistance for a reason to retreat. Instead, let it remind us that our purpose is bigger than acceptance, our potential is greater than prejudice, and our destiny is shaped not by the limits others place on us, but by the faith, courage, and perseverance we carry within.
Finish story here; Too Good. Too Loud. Too Different. Or Simply Too Black?
