“Why don’t you do more for the Black community? Aren’t you Black?”
As a Creole woman, this is a question I get asked frequently often laced with an underlying accusation and disdain. Certain people love to remind me of how small-minded, uneducated Americans see me. “Girl, White people think you’re Black. Don’t let them fool you. Girl please, your hair has a curl pattern. You’re Black.”
But here is the exhausting, hypocritical paradox of how Blackness is policed: The exact same people who demand my racial loyalty are the first to strip my identity away the second I display ambition, intellect, or boundaries that don’t fit their narrow script. Suddenly, the narrative shifts: “You talk white. You act white. That’s white people music. Vegan? That’s white people food.” I am constantly interrogated with, “What are you mixed with? Is your mom white or your dad white?”
Let’s be brutally honest: White people recognize white people. Black people recognize Black people. If you have to ask me what I’m “mixed with” while simultaneously using my skin tone and hair texture to demand my allegiance to the Black community, you are contradicting yourself. You cannot claim me as a token of solidarity while alienating me for my mindset, values and modesty.
The Cost of Being a Go-Getter
The reality is, I have never fully fit into the cultural mold expected of me because my ideologies, mannerisms, and belief systems are rooted in action and autonomy. I am a go-getter. I got up, traveled the world, broadened my horizons, and experienced life outside the block.
Despite being told the Black community should be my primary home, it was the harshest, most aggressive environment I have navigated. While I have faced racism from all demographics, some covert and some emboldened, the criticisms from within one demographic are uniquely hostile. Instead of intellectual debate or constructive disagreement, the default response to my proximity to success (or perceived “whiteness”) was and is often hostility, name-calling, or threats of physical violence.
Because of this, I found genuine community, support, and intellectual stimulation among White counterparts, Asian counterparts, and other diverse groups across the globe. Yet, because I choose to operate in high-level spaces like the NAACP or ForbesBLK, I am accused of being “fake and phony.” What critics fail to realize is that my mindset mirrors that of many successful African immigrants who come to this country. They become doctors, lawyers, and successful entrepreneurs. They are positive reflections of the diaspora because they prioritize education and systemic equity over localized clout.
Entertainment vs. True Ownership
The Black communtiy talks endlessly about the epigenetics of trauma and the lasting mental effects of slavery. Yet, there is a massive blind spot when it comes to introspection and accountability. We are witnessing a culture that often seems stuck in an oppressive mindset, perfectly content to be commodified for the entertainment of the very systems they claim to fight.
Look at the modern cultural landscape. We give all the attention and glory to the less than 1% who make it in sports or the music industry. We elevate the caricatures pushed by artists like Sexyy Red, Ice Spice, or Megan Thee Stallion, completely ignoring that these images feed the exact stereotypes that keep people marginalized. Contrast that with the legacies of Maya Angelou, Oprah, or Jabari Young – real leaders who built actual equity and demanded intellectual respect from any room they entered.
When a culture prioritizes entertaining the masses over owning the real estate of those industries, it sabotages its own growth. When intellectualism is mocked as “lame” or “acting white,” and when success is only validated if you return to your small hometown to exploit local connections, it becomes clear why systemic progress stalls. It is a lack of introspection. The very things hindering their growth.
Why EARN and The Gaudiz Foundation Are Built Differently
This brings me back to the original question: Why don’t I tailor my foundation specifically to the Black community?
Because The Gaudiz Foundation is not built on identity politics, performative victimhood, or grievance culture. It is built on universal human mechanics, legal autonomy, and the harsh, unglamorous work of accountability and true, equitable reform.
- We talk about systemic exploitation, coercive control, and abuse because predators do not care about your race.
- We teach business defense and generational wealth, because financial literacy and legal strategy are the only true equalizers.
- We operate on James 2:17: “Faith without works is dead.” We do not just complain about what we don’t like; we expose it, reform it, and build anew.
I do not work well with environments that demand handouts, refuse to look inward, or attempt to ruin you if things don’t go exactly their way. My work is not color-coded. It is action-coded. I cannot and will not be “can cultured” from my purpose.
My door is open to anyone from any background who is ready to stop crying wolf, break the cycle of intergenerational trauma, and actually build something that cannot be taken away.