The Life I Might Have Lived If I Had Never Attended an HBCU

I sometimes wonder what my life would look like if I had never attended an HBCU.

Not because I think attending an HBCU magically made me who I am. It didn't.

But I do believe it changed the direction I was headed.

And the funny thing is, I almost didn't go.

From kindergarten through high school graduation, I attended predominantly white schools. I grew up in a Black neighborhood, but most of the Black kids in my neighborhood went to the same schools I did. So while I was surrounded by Black people at home, my educational experience was predominantly white and it was the same for the kids in my neighborhood.

That was simply my normal.

When it came time for college, my plan was to attend a predominantly white institution.

It made sense. It was what I knew.

Then reality showed up with a financial aid package. The PWI offered me a partial academic scholarship. An HBCU offered me a full academic scholarship.

Now, I'm many things, but stupid isn't one of them. I went where the money was.

And that decision changed my life.

I Thought I Knew What It Meant To Be Black

I had already started becoming more conscious of my Black identity during my teenage years. My father played a major role in that. So did music.

Public Enemy. Boogie Down Productions. Artists who weren't exactly making songs designed to keep everybody comfortable at the dinner table. They were giving me information, perspectives and questions that weren't necessarily being handed to me in school.

I was beginning to understand that being Black in America wasn't simply about the color of my skin.

There was history behind it that wasn't being taught. There was culture behind it that I didn't always see. There were experiences behind it that I never really had.

There were things my parents understood because they had lived them that I hadn't yet experienced myself. I was beginning the journey.

But the HBCU solidified it.

Same Skin. Different Experiences.

One of the most eye-opening things about attending an HBCU wasn't simply being surrounded by Black people. I had been surrounded by Black people my entire life in my neighborhood. It was realizing that we hadn't all experienced America the same way.

I would meet somebody and we'd start talking about where we grew up, what school was like, how teachers treated them, what their neighborhoods were like, what their parents taught them, and what they thought about race.

And sometimes I'd think: Wow. We are both Black, but we came through two completely different worlds.

I had been educated in predominantly white schools. Some of my HBCU classmates had spent their entire educational careers surrounded primarily by Black teachers and Black students.

Their reference points were different. Their experiences were different. Their understanding of certain racial dynamics was different.

And instead of making me think one group was right and the other was wrong, it made me realize something much more important: Context matters.

I Learned To Pay Attention

Before college, I knew how to interact with people. The diversity of my upbringing gave me that. But the HBCU taught me to pay attention to something else: how people were interacting with me.

I started noticing the difference between being accepted and being tolerated. Those two things can look remarkably similar if you aren't careful.

That didn't mean every uncomfortable interaction was racism. It didn't mean every white person secretly disliked Black people. And it certainly didn't mean every Black person automatically had my best interests at heart.

It meant I became more observant.

The HBCU taught me to look beyond the surface of an interaction and consider the circumstances surrounding it.

• Look at the history.
• Look at the behavior.
• Look at the pattern.
• Look at the context.
• Then make your judgment.

That was discernment.

My HBCU Didn't Teach Me To Hate White People

This is where I think the conversation about HBCUs sometimes gets unnecessarily stupid. There are people who hear "HBCU" and immediately assume that students are being taught some kind of anti-white ideology. 

That wasn't my experience at all. My HBCU didn't teach me to hate white people. It taught me to love Black people.

There's a difference. A pretty important one.

Loving your own people doesn't require hating somebody else's. Understanding Black history doesn't require rewriting everybody else's history.

Being proud of Black accomplishments doesn't require pretending other people haven't accomplished anything.

And learning about racism doesn't mean believing every white person is racist. That's kindergarten-level thinking.

My HBCU gave me something I hadn't fully received before: A concentrated education in Black history, culture and experience.

Not because Black history is the only history that matters. But because it was the history I had the least opportunity to learn about in the educational environments I came through.

What I Didn't Know I Didn't Know

That's probably the biggest gift the HBCU gave me. It showed me how much I didn't know. Not just about Black history. About myself.

Growing up in a predominantly white school system, I became accustomed to an environment that didn't always center my culture or my history. I didn't necessarily recognize what was missing because I didn't know what I was missing.

The HBCU started filling in some of those blanks.

I encountered stories, perspectives and pieces of Black history that weren't part of the education I had received growing up.

And suddenly, some things I had heard from my father while growing up made more sense.

Some of the music I'd been listening to made more sense.

Some of the things I had observed but couldn't quite articulate finally had context.

It was like somebody handed me several missing pages from a book I'd been reading my entire life.

What If I Had Gone To The PWI?

This is the question I keep coming back to :What if I had received that partial scholarship and gone to the PWI?

I probably would have done fine. That's the strange part. 

I already knew that environment. I probably would have graduated, gotten a job, built relationships and continued living my life.

Maybe I would have eventually discovered more about Black history.

Maybe I would have become more conscious of racial dynamics through work, relationships, travel, books, music or simply getting older.

Maybe.

But I don't know.

What I do know is that I wouldn't have had the exact experience that changed me.

I wouldn't have sat across from people whose Black experiences were completely different from mine and had those conversations.

I wouldn't have heard their stories.

I wouldn't have had those moments where I realized that two people could share the same skin color while having completely different understandings of what that skin color meant in America.

And I wouldn't have had the same environment in which to explore my own identity.

That's the part people sometimes miss about education.

Education isn't only about what somebody puts on a chalkboard.

Sometimes it's about who you meet.

Sometimes it's about the conversations you have in a dorm room at 2 AM.

Sometimes it's about realizing that something you thought was universal was actually just your personal experience.

Sometimes the most important lesson isn't: "Here's the answer."

It's: "You need to ask a better question."

The HBCU Expanded My World

My HBCU didn't shrink my world. It expanded it. I went into college with a broad understanding of how to interact with people from different backgrounds. I came out with a much deeper understanding of my own.

That may sound like a small distinction. It wasn't. It gave me another lens.

It taught me that Black history isn't simply a collection of dates, famous names and February school projects.

• It is connected to American history.
• It is connected to economics.
• It's connected to education.
• It's connected to neighborhoods.
• It's connected to music.
• It's connected to politics.
• It's connected to family.
• It's connected to how people see themselves and how other people see them.

And sometimes, understanding those connections changes the way you interpret things happening right in front of you.

That doesn't mean automatically blaming racism for every negative experience.

It means not automatically dismissing it either.

Again: Context.

I Didn't Leave With Hatred. I Left With Perspective.

That's probably the simplest way I can explain what the HBCU did for me.

It didn't teach me to hate. It taught me to understand.

It didn't make me suspicious of everyone who wasn't Black. It made me more conscious of the world around me.

It didn't teach me that Black people are better than white people. It taught me that Black people have a history worth knowing, a culture worth understanding and accomplishments worth celebrating.

Most importantly, it gave me a stronger sense of identity.

I had spent the first 17 years of my life learning in an environment where Blackness wasn't necessarily the center of the educational experience.

My HBCU gave me the opportunity to make it part of the center of mine. That's a lesson I might have eventually learned somewhere else.

But I don't know.

And that's why I sometimes wonder about that other version of my life.

The version where the PWI gave me the full scholarship.

The version where I never stepped onto an HBCU campus.

The version where I never met all those people who came from experiences completely different from mine.

Maybe I would have turned out exactly the same.

I seriously doubt it.

Because sometimes the most important decisions we make aren't the ones we carefully plan.

Sometimes they're the decisions made because one school offered you a partial scholarship and another school offered you a full ride.

Sometimes the universe has a strange sense of humor. And sometimes, apparently, financial aid is destiny.

One thing I know for sure though... I did four years of school without needing a student loan. 

Won't He do it?

Youth Is Wasted on Young People

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

When I was younger, I thought that saying was just something old people said because old people apparently enjoyed reminding everybody that they used to be young too.

Now I'm almost 55 and I get it. I really, really get it.

Because there is something about getting older that changes the way you look at your younger years. You start realizing that the things you thought were unlimited actually had expiration dates.

Energy, time, physical ability, and, perhaps most importantly, opportunity. When you're young, you don't realize how valuable that is because you have so much of it.

You Think Your Body Will Always Work Like That

One of the biggest things you don't appreciate when you're young is your physical body. When you're 20, you can stay up all night and go to work the next morning. You can eat a super-sized combo at 2 AM and somehow wake up fine. You can play basketball, football, or run around with your friends and your biggest concern is if you can get in enough games before the sun goes down.

Then you get older and suddenly your body starts sending you customer-service emails.

You sleep wrong and your neck hurts. You sit too long and your back hurts. You bend over to pick something up and have to negotiate with your knees before standing back up. You can injure yourself simply by existing.

Nobody really tells young people that your body is an asset. At least they didn't when I was growing up. And you don't appreciate an asset until it starts depreciating.

That's why taking care of yourself when you're young matters. Exercise. Eat better. Get enough sleep (can't stress that enough).

Don't treat your body like it's a rental car.

Then There's Money

The financial part might be even more important. When you're young, retirement sounds like something that happens to people who are 138 years old. You get your first real paycheck and your brain immediately starts calculating what you can buy.

New car. New clothes. New gadgets. Trips. Restaurants. Entertainment. Whatever makes life more enjoyable right now.

And there's nothing wrong with enjoying your money.

The problem is failing to understand that your money could be working while you're living your life. That's the part I wish more young people understood. That's the part that I wish that I understood sooner than 30 years old. 

If you're 25, you don't necessarily need to make a fortune. You just need to understand time.

Because $10,000 invested at 25 and left alone for decades has an entirely different opportunity to grow than $10,000 invested at 50.

That's the magic of compound growth. You aren't just making money on your original money. Eventually, you're making money on the money your money already made. 

Young People Think They Have Time

That's a whole trap.

• I'll do it later.
• I'll start saving later.
• I'll invest later.
• I'll exercise later.
• I'll travel later.
• I'll spend more time with my family later.
• I'll start that business later.
• I'll pursue that dream later.

"Later" is one of the most expensive words in the English language. Because eventually, later becomes now.

And then you look around and realize that 20 years disappeared. Not 20 days. Not 20 months. Twenty years.

Where did they go? That's the part nobody can adequately explain when you're young. You think you're moving through life one day at a time when you're actually moving through it one year at a time.

And those years don't ask permission before leaving.

The Advantage Young People Have Isn't Money

This is what I want people in their 20s to know: Your biggest advantage isn't your salary. It's time.

You may not have much money yet. That's understandable because you're starting out. But you have something incredibly valuable that somebody approaching 55 can't buy. You have decades!

• You can make mistakes and recover.
• You can change careers.
• You can start investing.
• You can start exercising.
• You can learn another skill.
• You can start a business.
• You can travel.
• You can build relationships.
• You can fail.

And then try again.

Older people don't necessarily have more wisdom because we're just smarter. Sometimes we have wisdom because we've had more opportunities to screw things up and learn from them.

Youth Is Wasted Because Young People Don't Know What They Have.

That's really what the saying means. Young people aren't stupid. They simply don't have the perspective that comes with time.

When you're 20, 55 seems ancient.

When you're 55, 20 doesn't seem that long ago.

That's the strange trick life plays on you.

You spend the first half of your life trying desperately to become an adult. Then you spend the second half wondering where your youth went.

Nobody wins.

Well, Father Time does. He's undefeated.

If I Could Give My Younger Self One Piece of Advice

I wouldn't tell my younger self to stop having fun. I'd actually tell him to have more fun.

But I'd tell him to understand the value of the future while enjoying the present.

Put money away. Invest. Take care of your body. Don't waste years trying to impress people who won't matter 20 years later. Spend time with people you love. Learn something. Take some risks. 

Don't assume you have forever. Because you don't. None of us do.

And that's not meant to be depressing. It's meant to be liberating.

The Real Problem Isn't Being Young

The real problem is being young and believing you'll always be young. That's the mistake.

At 25, you think 55 is far away.

At 35, you think you've still got plenty of time.

At 45, you suddenly start doing math you probably should have started doing 20 years earlier.

Then one day you're standing there thinking: “How did I get here so fast?”

That's when the saying finally makes sense.

Youth really is wasted on the young.

Not because young people don't deserve it. It's because young people haven't lived long enough to understand just how valuable youth actually is.

Gen Alpha Doesn't Hate Reading. We Stopped Teaching Them to Love It.

There was a time when telling a child to go read a book wasn't considered punishment.

It wasn't unusual for a kid to have a favorite book. Maybe a favorite author. Even a library card. 

You could give a child a book and expect them to disappear into it for an afternoon. 

Now?

Give some kids a book and you might as well hand them a rotary phone.

We love to blame Gen Alpha for having short attention spans, being glued to screens, lacking curiosity, or struggling to concentrate.

But here's the uncomfortable part:

Children didn't create the environment they're growing up in. Adults did.

Gen Alpha is being raised in a world where reading has gradually been pushed out of the home, replaced by phones, tablets, YouTube, video games, streaming services and an endless supply of content designed to require as little patience as possible.

Then we send those same children to school and wonder why they don't enjoy reading.

Seriously?

What did we think was going to happen?

Reading Starts at Home

Schools can teach children how to read. But schools can't be expected to single-handedly teach children to love reading. That starts at home. Children learn what matters by watching what the adults around them value.

If Mom and Dad spend their evenings scrolling through Facebook, TikTok and Instagram, while the television runs in the background, what exactly is the child supposed to conclude about books?

If nobody in the house reads, why would a child assume reading is important?

We tell children, "You need to read more."

But children are watching us. And children are excellent at noticing hypocrisy.

A parent who tells a child to put down the phone while spending four hours on their own phone is not teaching discipline. They're teaching that discipline is something adults demand from children but don't necessarily practice themselves.

We Used to Make Reading a Thing

Reading used to be built into childhood.

You went to the library.

You had book reports.

Books were birthday/Christmas presents.

And somewhere along the way, we confused reading proficiency with reading enjoyment.

A child can know how to pronounce every word on a page and still have absolutely no relationship with books. That's a problem. Because reading isn't just about vocabulary. Reading teaches you how to think. 

A Child Who Doesn't Read Has Fewer Places to Go

Books force children to do something modern technology rarely asks them to do. A book doesn't constantly interrupt itself. There isn't another book waiting every 30 seconds like a TikTok video. There isn't an algorithm screaming, "Here's something else!"

A book makes you stay in one spot to imagine, visualize, question, connect one idea to another, and sometimes, it makes you uncomfortable.

That's part of the point.

When children read stories, they encounter people who don't look like them, think like them, live like them or believe what they believe.

They learn empathy without somebody standing in front of them giving a lecture on empathy.

They learn cause and effect, consequences, that people can be complicated, that there can be more than one perspective (super-important).

And eventually, they begin developing something incredibly important: their own thoughts.

That's the Part We Should Be Worried About

A child who doesn't learn how to think independently becomes dependent on everyone else to tell them what to think. And we're already living in a world where that's becoming increasingly dangerous.

Algorithms decide what people see.

Social media decides what's popular.

Influencers decide what's fashionable.

Comment sections decide who's right.

Political parties decide who's angry.

And artificial intelligence can now produce an answer before a person has even finished forming the question.

Convenience is wonderful but convenience can also make people intellectually lazy.

If a child never develops the habit comparing sources or how to sit quietly with a complicated idea, how are they supposed to navigate adulthood?

"But My Child Doesn't Like Reading."

Maybe they don't. But that doesn't mean they can't. Children don't automatically hate reading.

Sometimes they hate reading what the parent or teacher wants them to read. There's a difference.

Find the right genre and stop worrying so much about whether they're reading the "right" book and start worrying about whether they're reading anything at all.

Parents Have to Stop Outsourcing Everything to Schools

This is where adults need to take some responsibility (translation: I'm about to step on some toes).

Teachers matter. But parents matter too.

We can't hand a child an iPad at age three, give them unlimited access to YouTube at five, let algorithms raise their interests at eight, and then blame the school at twelve because they don't want to read a novel.

That's not how this works.

Education doesn't begin when the school bell rings. Education begins at home.

And No, This Isn't an Attack on Technology

Technology isn't the enemy. A child can love video games and love books. I'm an example of that myself. A child can watch YouTube and read. A child can use AI and still learn how to think.

The problem is balance.

Technology gives children an unprecedented amount of information. Reading teaches them what to do with information.

Those aren't the same thing.

A child can consume 500 pieces of content in a day and still not understand a single complicated idea or tell you what half of it even was. More information doesn't automatically create more intelligence. Sometimes it just creates more noise.

We Need to Bring Back the Boredom

Here's another uncomfortable truth: Children need time when nothing is happening.

No phone. No television. No video game. Nothing.

Because boredom gives the brain somewhere to go. That's when imagination shows up. That's when curiosity shows up. That's when a child might pick up a book because there's nothing else competing for their attention.

We have become so terrified of our children being bored that we've eliminated one of the conditions that helps children become curious. Every quiet moment gets filled.

And then we wonder why they can't concentrate.

Reading Is Bigger Than Reading

Let me wrap this up because I'm beating a dead horse. And a bunch of you probably stopped reading 30 seconds ago because this post is longer than a TikTok video. 

This isn't really about books. It's about raising people who can think. People who can sit with an idea without immediately needing somebody else to validate it. People who can understand another person's perspective. People who can change their minds when presented with better information.

That's what reading can help develop.

And those skills aren't optional anymore. They're survival skills.

Because Gen Alpha is growing up in an information environment unlike anything previous generations experienced.

They will have access to more information than any generation in history.

Eventually, childhood ends. Parents can't follow their children everywhere. Teachers can't follow them into adulthood. And nobody can protect them from every bad idea they're going to encounter.

Eventually, they're going to have to make decisions for themselves.

And when that day comes, we better hope we raised children who know how to think.

Not just children who know how to scroll.

Because the world doesn't need another generation that can consume information at lightning speed.

It needs a generation capable of stopping long enough to ask whether the information they're consuming is actually true.

That starts with curiosity. It grows through reading. And it becomes wisdom when a child learns to think for themselves.

So maybe the question isn't: "Why don't kids read anymore?"

Maybe the question is: "What have we done to make reading less important to them?"

Is Originality Dead, or Did the Algorithm Just Make Us All the Same?

There was a time when you could tell where somebody was from just by listening to them talk.

Not because they announced their hometown. You could hear it.

People from different regions had different accents, different slang, different expressions, and different ways of saying the same thing. Somebody from New York didn't necessarily sound like somebody from Memphis. Somebody from Chicago didn't necessarily sound like somebody from Atlanta. The way people spoke was shaped by where they lived, who raised them, who they grew up around, and the culture that surrounded them.

Then came social media.

And apparently, the entire country decided we needed to sound like the same 14 people on TikTok.

Now somebody can live in Mississippi, spend six hours scrolling through Instagram, and wake up the next morning talking like an influencer from Los Angeles.

"Girl, I literally cannot."

You could literally. You just did.

And it's not just the way we talk.

• It's the way we dress.
• The way we pose.
• The way we decorate our houses.
• The restaurants we photograph.
• The vacations we take.
• The phrases we use.
• The coffee orders.

Even the way we announce that we're having a good time has become strangely standardized.

Social media has created something we've never really had before: billions of people being exposed to the exact same cultural references at almost exactly the same time.

And we're surprised that we're starting to look alike.

Think about the vacation pictures.

How many times have you seen the same photo of a woman reclined on a transparent surfboard in crystal-clear waters as a drone captures the photo from above?

She's usually wearing the same general type of swimsuit, striking the same general pose, in the same general kind of tropical location.

And somewhere in the caption is something about "living my best life."

I'm not saying she shouldn't do it.

If chilling on a clear surfboard in the middle of the ocean makes you happy, please relax on that thing until the battery in the drone dies.

The question isn't whether people should enjoy popular things.

The question is: How many identical pictures do we need before we start asking ourselves whether we're actually creating memories or simply reproducing someone else's?

Because there's a difference between inspiration and imitation. We see something we like, so we try it.

That's normal.

Society have always borrowed from one another. Fashion, music, language, art, food, hairstyles and traditions have always traveled from one community to another.

But social media has industrialized imitation. The algorithm doesn't necessarily reward originality. It rewards familiarity.

If a particular video works, people make another version. If that version works, thousands make their version.

Then everybody is doing the same dance, using the same sound, making the same facial expression and pointing at the same words appearing on the screen.

Eventually, something that was once creative becomes a template. And the template becomes a trend. And the trend becomes something everybody does. Then we move on to the next thing.

We're living in an era where people have more opportunities to express themselves than any generation in history, yet somehow we're increasingly expressing ourselves in remarkably similar ways.

That's the irony.

We have more individuality available to us while simultaneously becoming more culturally synchronized.

And maybe that's because we're no longer just consuming culture. We're constantly being shown what we're supposed to consume.

Before social media, you might have known what was popular among the people around you. Now you can see what's popular among millions of strangers before you've even brushed your teeth.

And when you see something enough times, it starts feeling normal.

Then desirable.

Then necessary.

That's how influence works.

You don't necessarily have to be told what to think. Sometimes you just have to be given the same thing repeatedly until you stop questioning why you want it. Why do you think some songs become "hits" although most people you know can't stand it? 

This doesn't mean originality is dead. I don't think it is. But I do think originality has gotten harder.

Not because people have become less creative, but because we're surrounded by so much other people's creativity that it's difficult to hear our own ideas.

Before social media, you had to come up with something on your own. Now you can simply open your phone and find 10,000 people who already came up with something. And there's nothing wrong with borrowing an idea. The problem starts when you stop asking yourself whether you actually like the idea.

Are you wearing that because you like it? Or because everybody you follow is wearing it?

Are you taking that vacation picture because it's beautiful? Or because you've seen it 47 times and decided that's what a vacation is supposed to look like?

Are you doing something because you want to? Or because you've been trained by an algorithm to want it?

That's the part worth thinking about.

Because maybe the real threat isn't that social media is making everybody the same. Maybe it's that we're becoming so accustomed to being influenced that we've forgotten how to make decisions without influence.

There used to be a lot more room for people to simply be themselves. Somebody could be strange without immediately discovering that 2.7 million other people were also being strange in exactly the same way.

And maybe that's what we're missing. Individuality.

The freedom to do something because you like it. To wear something nobody on your timeline is wearing. To take a vacation picture that doesn't look like everybody else's vacation picture. To say something in your own voice. To have an opinion that didn't arrive prepackaged by a podcast, influencer, celebrity or algorithm.

Because being yourself has never required being completely different from everybody else.

It simply requires knowing the difference between "I like this" and "I'm supposed to like this."

That's a pretty important distinction.

Especially when everybody has the same phone in their hand telling them what to like next.

Maybe originality isn't dead.

Maybe it's just buried underneath everybody else's influence.

And perhaps the most original thing you can do these days...

is stop scrolling long enough to figure out what you actually think.

Connected to Everyone, Known by No One

We built a world where you can order groceries, earn a paycheck, and talk to a squad of gamers in three time zones without ever looking another human in the eye. We called it progress. So why does everyone feel so isolated?

We are plugged into every person on the planet, yet sitting in a room by ourselves, staring at a screen, wondering why we feel so disconnected. Let’s be honest—we didn't land here by accident. Society didn't just drift into loneliness; we optimized our way into it. We traded the inconvenience of real human interaction for the seamless comfort of living behind a glass box.

The Machine

Every major shift in how we work, play, and communicate over the last decade has been designed to eliminate the need to interact with an actual physical human being:

• Remote Work: We traded the morning commute and office chatter for Zoom calls and Slack pings. On paper, it’s a win—no small talk by the coffee pot. In practice, we eliminated the accidental social touchpoints that keep us grounded.

• Digital Recreation: Multiplayer video games replaced local sports leagues and community clubs. You can spend five hours talking through a headset to a squad across the globe, yet finish the night without having made eye contact with a single person.

• Social Media Messaging: DMs, comments, and texting replaced real-time conversation. We get to edit, pause, and control our communication, but we lose the messy, spontaneous chemistry of live human connection.

We called it convenience. What we actually built was a structural encouragement to stay completely alone.

Present, But Not Accountable

Even when we do leave our homes, are we actually there?

Walk into any coffee shop, ride any train, or sit in any park. People are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, completely wrapped in their own digital bubbles. Noise-canceling headphones are clamped on tight. Eyes are locked onto cell phones. We occupy the same physical coordinates, but we inhabit completely different virtual universes.

Being in public used to require a baseline of presence—a nod to a neighbor, a brief exchange with a barista, or simply observing the world around us. Today, physical space is just the background environment where we wait until we can check our notifications again.

Starving for Presence

Social media promised us connection, but what it gave us was audience-building. Having 500 people view your story isn't the same as having one person ask how your day went over a cup of coffee. We are starving for real presence while being gorged on digital updates.

The common-sense truth is simple: people are not built to be remote observers of life. Real connection requires friction. It requires showing up, listening without a screen in front of your face, and tolerating the awkwardness of being truly present in a room.

Some of the best memories I have as an adult is working the night shift with a coworker of mine. The conversations we had were priceless and entertaining. A lot of them have led to some of the posts that you've read here over the years. 

But what if were glued to smart phones/internet back then? Would we have even had 1/3 of the conversations that we did?

How to Reclaim Real Connection

If we want to stop feeling isolated, we have to intentionally reintroduce being present into our lives:

1. Leave the headphones off in public: The next time you're getting coffee or riding transit, stay open to the room around you. (side note: in today's volatile climate it could save your life!)

2. Trade two DMs for one phone or in-person call: Stop sending paragraph-long text chains to friends you haven't seen in months. Pick up the phone or pick a spot to meet.

3. Practice unstructured presence: Spend at least 30 minutes a day completely screen-free—no background podcast, no passive scrolling, just being where your feet are.

Until we start treating real-world presence as a necessity rather than an inconvenience, we will keep swiping, liking, and typing our way into feeling completely alone.

You Hate Black Women

There was a time when saying, "I like chocolate ice cream," didn't require adding, "...and if you don't then you're a loser."

Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

Today, it seems like nobody is allowed to simply appreciate something anymore. Every compliment has to come packaged with an insult. Every preference has to become a competition. Every opinion has to produce a loser.

It's exhausting.

You can like iPhones without pretending Android users are carrying around calculators.

I can prefer Android without acting like every Apple customer was hypnotized by a glowing logo.

Both phones make calls. Both let you waste six hours scrolling through videos you'll forget by tomorrow. 

Sports fans do the same thing.

Someone says LeBron James is their favorite player.

Instead of saying, "I can see why," somebody immediately launches into a ten-minute TED Talk explaining why Michael Jordan would have beaten him while wearing dress shoes. (By the way, I'm Team Jordan.)

Here's a crazy thought: Maybe LeBron is great. Maybe Jordan is great. Maybe your favorite doesn't become taller because you shrunk someone else.

Music fans do it. Political parties do it. People who like cars, video games, restaurants, rappers, actors, etc.

The saddest example, though, is one I see far too often involving Black men.

A Black man falls in love with a White woman (or anyone who isn't Black). Good for him. Love who loves you, bro.

But then comes the unnecessary part.

Some of those Black men feel compelled to explain their choice by putting down Black women.

"They're too loud."

"They're too masculine."

"They've got attitudes."

"They're impossible."

Really?

If another race of woman makes you happy, great. But what exactly did Black women do to deserve becoming your press conference?

Imagine someone announcing they bought a Mercedes and then spending twenty minutes talking about how terrible BMWs are.

Nobody asked. Nobody cared. Just enjoy your Mercedes and keep it moving. Someone else will enjoy the BMW. Trust me.

If your happiness depends on insulting people you didn't choose, maybe you're not as happy as you're pretending to be.

Here's the part that bothers me most: boys are watching this! They're learning that it's okay to put down all Black women if the one you want doesn't want you (which is usually the case).

Real praise doesn't need victims.

• You don't have to convince me your spouse is amazing by insulting mine.
• You don't have to prove your favorite athlete by disrespecting another legend.
• And you don't have to justify your dating preferences by degrading an entire group of people.

Just like what you like and respect what you don't. It's really that simple.

My wife is black. My mom was black. My grandmothers were black. I love black women. I'm not saying they're better than every other woman. I'm saying they're my favorite. I welcome you to pump up your favorite in the comments if you feel compelled.

But "give me a sister, I can't resist her."

So, My IG Got Hacked...

They finally got me. I thought a trusted friend was sending a video to me and didn't realize that they'd been hacked as well until it was too late. I finally got fooled.

My Instagram account of 10+ years is no more. I have uninstalled it and I have moved on.

It's all good though. My activity on IG basically nothing minus the one or two times per week I checked it for funny videos that people send me. I wasn't using it regularly, but it still contained a lot of content.

I hope nothing malicious is done with the photos. With today's A.I. being as good as it is, the last thing that I want to see is my face robbing a bank in Idaho or something. That's a real concern in 2026.

But I also will miss some of the connections. For some people, IG was the only link that I had to them. Friends in Toronto that I met over a decade ago. Friends in Louisiana whose businesses I try to support. Local businesses that I follow for upcoming events. I'll have to find another way to track them all down.

In the meantime, if you see a video of someone who looks like me being chased by the police in a stolen car, just know that it's not really me. And if you later find out that it was me then know that I probably have a pretty good explanation for it.

(And happy birthday to my friend, Tami Scott in Louisville, KY.)

Race Baiting Is Exhausting. For Everybody.

Every morning, before I've even had a chance to convince myself to get out of bed, social media is already yelling.

A racist customer.
A racist cop.
A racist teacher.
A racist company.
A racist neighbor.
A racist cashier who allegedly looked at someone for 1.7 seconds too long.

Some of these stories are absolutely real. Some expose behavior that deserves attention. Some uncover problems that need to be addressed. But somewhere along the line, outrage stopped being the exception and became the business model.

And that's exhausting.

As a Black person, I'm tired of opening my phone and feeling like the internet wants to remind me every single day that somebody somewhere hates me. Whether the story is accurate, exaggerated, missing context, or eventually proven false barely matters by the time it reaches millions of people. The emotional effect is already there.

After a while, you start wondering if the world is actually getting worse, or if algorithms have simply figured out that fear and anger keep us scrolling.

Here's the uncomfortable truth: if your news feed convinces you that racial conflict is happening around every corner, you're going to start seeing racial conflict around every corner.

That isn't healthy. It's also unfair.

Most white people aren't racists. Most Black people aren't walking around expecting racism from every person they meet. Most people are simply trying to get through work, pay bills, raise kids, and figure out why eggs suddenly cost as much as a car payment.

Yet social media rarely rewards ordinary interactions. Nobody posts, "500 people treated me with kindness today."

Instead, we amplify the one awful encounter because outrage gets clicks, comments, shares, and ad revenue. Decency doesn't trend.

There's another side to this that doesn't get discussed enough.

Imagine being a white person who doesn't have a prejudiced bone in your body, yet every day you're confronted with headlines that imply your race needs to answer for the actions of someone you've never met.

That has to be exhausting too.

It creates a conversation where people stop listening because they're already preparing their defense.

Meanwhile, the actual racists, who make up a tiny fraction of the population, get far more influence than they deserve because we hand them the microphone every single day.

We should absolutely call out genuine racism.

We should absolutely seek justice when people are treated unfairly.

But we don't have to build an entire culture around hunting for the next racial controversy before we've even finished discussing or resolving the last one.

Constant outrage has consequences.

• It increases anxiety.
• It fuels suspicion.
• It makes neighbors view one another through stereotypes instead of shared experiences.

Worst of all, it convinces people that progress is impossible, even when history shows we've come much farther than many are willing to admit.

The goal shouldn't be pretending racism doesn't exist.

The goal should be refusing to let racism become the lens through which we interpret every interaction.

Because if every disagreement becomes racism...

If every misunderstanding becomes discrimination...

If every headline becomes another reminder that America is hopelessly divided...

Then the people making money from our anger have already won.

Sometimes common sense means acknowledging that a problem exists without allowing it to consume your identity. I'm not saying that we need fewer conversations about race. Maybe we just need more honest ones.

The kind that don't begin with outrage and don't end with everyone hating each other just a little bit more.

The Curious Disappearance of Cursive Writing

 I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but...

...why exactly did schools decide cursive was the skill that had to go?

I'm told it's because we needed more time for technology. Fair enough. Kids should know how to use a keyboard. But somehow they can spend hours learning standardized test strategies and social media trends, yet fifteen minutes a day teaching handwriting became too much?

Call me crazy, but three thoughts cross my mind.

First, if nobody can read cursive anymore, fewer people can read old letters, journals, family records, and even parts of our own history without someone translating it for us. That's an odd way to preserve the past. It means that someone else (the government) will have to recreate those documents and translate for younger generations. Think about the things that will probably be "lost in translation".

Second, it seems that the less we write by hand, the more dependent we become on devices. Every note, reminder, and idea now belongs to a phone, tablet, or cloud server somewhere instead of on a piece of paper. No more analog thoughts. Only digital ones that can be tracked and somehow monetized with ads. Funny how independence quietly became inconvenience.

Third, signatures are slowly becoming meaningless. Today's kids are growing up in a world where a fingerprint or face scan matters more than their own handwriting. Maybe that's progress. Maybe it's just one more thing we're handing over to technology.

Do I actually believe there's a secret meeting where people plotted the downfall of cursive? Maybe. Maybe not.

But I do think we've become a little too eager to throw away simple skills because they're "old-fashioned." Not everything from the past deserves to stay there.

Sometimes common sense isn't asking if something is old. It's asking whether replacing it actually made us better.

Young People: Your Clothes Speak Before You Do

There's an old saying that goes, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

Beautiful sentiment.

Too bad society never got the memo.

Whether we like it or not, people make assumptions before we ever open our mouths. They judge our hairstyle, our shoes, our posture, our facial expressions, and yes... our clothes. Is it fair? Not always. Is it reality? Every single day.

Common sense tells us that first impressions matter because people are wired to make quick decisions. Before someone hears your intelligence, experiences your personality, or appreciates your work ethic, they've already built a mental profile based on what they see.

That's why attire isn't about vanity. It's about strategy.

Dress for the Opportunity You Want

Too many people insist, "People should accept me for who I am."

In a perfect world, they would. In the real world, perception opens doors long before personality gets the chance.

Imagine showing up to a job interview wearing gym shorts and flip-flops. You might be the smartest applicant in the room, but you've already created doubt before answering the first question.

Now imagine attending a funeral dressed for the beach or walking into a courtroom wearing clothes better suited for a gym. Your outfit instantly communicates that you either don't understand the moment or don't respect it. Nowadays, it's usually the latter.

Clothing has always been a language. The only question is whether you're speaking it fluently.

Every Environment Has a Uniform

Not every uniform comes with a badge. Business professionals wear suits because they project competence. Construction workers wear safety gear because the job demands protection. Doctors wear lab coats because patients associate them with trust and expertise. Athletes wear uniforms because they represent a team.

Even casual environments have unwritten dress codes.

You wouldn't wear a tuxedo to mow the lawn. You probably wouldn't wear pajamas to a wedding (although I think that I've seen it before).

Context matters.

Dressing appropriately isn't pretending to be someone else. It's showing respect for the occasion and the people around you.

The Reality of a Prejudicial Society

Let's stop pretending prejudice only exists in major social issues because folks prejudge everything.

Restaurants, neighborhoods, cars, businesses, and people.

That doesn't mean we should encourage prejudice. It means we should understand how the world works.  You can't always control someone else's assumptions, but you can control the information you give them. 

Your appearance becomes part of your introduction.

Why make your first sentence harder to overcome?

Confidence Begins Before the Conversation

Something interesting happens when you dress with intention.

• You stand differently.
• You walk differently.
• You communicate differently.
• Your confidence often rises to meet your presentation.

It's not because expensive clothes magically create confidence. It's because preparation creates confidence. When you know you look appropriate for the situation, one less distraction exists between you and your goal.

Common Sense Isn't About Expensive Labels

This isn't an argument for designer brands or thousand-dollar suits. It's about cleanliness, neatness, and appropriateness. 

You don't need a luxury wardrobe to make a strong impression. You simply need to understand where you're going and dress accordingly.

A well-fitted outfit from a discount store will almost always outshine an expensive outfit that's wrinkled, stained, or completely inappropriate for the occasion.

The Bottom Line

Life gives everyone enough obstacles without volunteering to create new ones. If changing your shirt, cleaning up your shoes, or putting on the right outfit increases your chances of being taken seriously, why fight that reality?

Your clothes won't define your character, but they often determine whether people stay around long enough to discover it.

And that's not shallow. That's reality.

The Bulls, the Lion, and American Politics

One of Aesop's lesser-known fables tells the story of several bulls grazing together in a field. A lion wants to eat them, but as long as the bulls stand united, he cannot attack. Frustrated, the lion spreads rumors and creates distrust among them. Eventually, the bulls separate from one another. Once isolated, they are easily picked off one by one.

Sound familiar? 

Modern politics has become a never-ending exercise in division. Americans are encouraged to view neighbors, coworkers, and even family members not as fellow citizens but as enemies. Political parties, media outlets, influencers, and social media algorithms profit from outrage. The more divided we become, the more power flows to those who benefit from the chaos.

The lion in Aesop's story didn't defeat the bulls through strength. He defeated them through division.

Today's political operatives understand the same lesson. Convince people that every disagreement is a battle, every election is the end of democracy, and every opponent is beyond redemption. Once citizens stop seeing common interests, they become easier to manipulate.

None of this means we should abandon our principles. Bulls don't have to agree on everything to stand together against a common threat. A healthy society requires debate. It also requires recognizing that most Americans want many of the same things: safe communities, economic opportunity, and a better future for their children.

The lion's strategy worked thousands of years ago because the bulls forgot who their real adversary was.

Aesop would probably recognize our politics immediately. The only question is whether we recognize the lesson.

The answer: we do not.

Is Apple a Tech Company... or a Religion?

Walk into an Apple Store sometime. Notice anything? The bright lights, the minimalist design, the reverent silence. The smiling employees dressed like disciples of modern technology.

Everything feels intentional. Everything feels sacred.

It's less "electronics retailer" and more "cathedral of consumerism."

Now before the Apple faithful begin drafting angry emails from their iPhone 17 Ultra Max Pro Plus Air Supreme, hear me out...

Apple may have created one of the greatest marketing achievements in human history. Not because they sell phones. Because they sell identity. 

Most companies sell products. Apple sells belonging.

That's why discussions about smartphones often sound less like conversations and more like theological debates. Tell an iPhone user you're switching to Android and watch their face. It's the same expression some people make when a family member announces they're leaving the church.

"Why would you do that?"

"But iMessage!"

"What about FaceTime?"

"Are you okay?"

The reaction is rarely about the phone itself. It's about leaving the cult... er, uh, I mean "tribe".

What's fascinating is how often Apple users celebrate new features as revolutionary when Android manufacturers introduced them years earlier.

Wireless charging. Widgets. Always-on displays. Customizable home screens. USB-C.

Many of these features existed in the Android world long before Apple adopted them. Yet somehow when Apple introduces them, the conversation becomes: "Apple just changed everything."

It's marketing wizardry.

Apple doesn't always need to be first. They just need to convince people they're first.

To be fair, Apple deserves enormous credit. 

• Their products generally work well together. 
• Their ecosystem is incredibly convenient.
• Their customer support is often excellent.
• Their branding is unmatched.

None of this happened by accident. This wasn't luck. This was decades of carefully building an emotional connection with customers. The genius wasn't creating fans. The genius was creating evangelists. 

• People who voluntarily market the product for free.
• People who defend the company online.
• People who line up overnight for product launches.
• People who feel personally attacked when someone criticizes a freaking phone.

That's not customer loyalty. That's customer devotion.

People have an incredible talent for turning preferences into personalities.

• Sports teams.
• Political parties.
• Video game consoles.
• Smartphones.

We love joining tribes! 

Apple simply mastered the art better than almost anyone else.

So are iPhone users part of a cult? Not exactly.

Apple users aren't sacrificing goats to honor of Tim Cook. (At least not publicly.)

But Apple has created something remarkably close to a modern consumer religion. A community built around shared beliefs, symbols, rituals, and identity.

And whether you love Apple or hate Apple, you have to respect the achievement.

Because convincing millions of people that a $1,200 phone is a lifestyle choice rather than a phone might be one of the greatest marketing victories ever recorded.

Parents Don’t Parent Anymore. They Compete.

There used to be a visible line between parents and children.

Not a cruel line. A line of responsibility. A line of wisdom. A line that said: I’ve already walked through this stage of life, so my job is to prepare you for what’s ahead.

Now?

Parents and kids dress alike, talk alike, dance alike, listen to the same music, shop in the same stores go to the same clubs, use the same slang, and fight for the same attention online.

Half the time you can’t tell who’s raising who. It's time to stop trading wisdom for trends.

Parents used to embarrass kids because they were “old.” Now some parents are terrified of looking old. Terrified of aging. Terrified of being disconnected from youth culture. So instead of guiding the next generation, they chase it.

Everybody wants to be young forever. Nobody wants to be the elder anymore.

And children suffer because of it. A child does not need another friend.

A child needs structure.
A child needs correction.
A child needs protection.
A child needs perspective.

Most importantly, a child needs somebody willing to say:
“No.”
“That’s wrong.”
“You can do better.”
“Here’s who you are.”
“Here’s where you come from.”

But modern parenting increasingly revolves around comfort and image instead of preparation.

Parents are recording dances with children instead of reading with them.
Buying expensive shoes while schools fail them academically.
Keeping up with trends while kids grow up emotionally lost.

This problem becomes even more dangerous in Black communities because identity is already under attack from every direction.

If schools remove Black history or water it down into a few sanitized paragraphs every February, then where are Black children supposed to learn about themselves?

Where do they learn about:

• The kingdoms that existed before slavery?
• Black inventors and scientists?
• Black resistance movements?
• Economic independence?
• Community building?
• Media literacy?
• Why certain systems exist the way they do?

If home doesn’t teach it and school won’t teach it, then social media will. And social media is a terrible teacher. Algorithms raise more children than grandparents now.

That should terrify people.

A generation that does not know its history becomes easy to manipulate. Easy to market to. Easy to distract. Easy to divide. If all a child learns about Blackness comes from entertainment, celebrity culture, trauma, and consumerism, then they begin to confuse visibility with identity.

Representation is not the same thing as education.

Seeing successful Black entertainers matters. But if every conversation begins and ends with athletes, rappers, influencers, and viral moments, children start believing success only exists in narrow forms.

Where are the conversations about:

• Black architects?
• Farmers?
• Educators?
• Engineers?
• Organizers?
• Historians?
• Ownership?
• Discipline?
• Family legacy?

Some parents know every lyric to the newest songs but cannot explain who Marcus Garvey was.
Cannot explain Ida B. Wells.
Cannot explain Carter G. Woodson.
Cannot explain why the Tulsa Race Massacre matters.

That is not just an educational problem. It is a spiritual problem.

Children without historical grounding search for identity in trends. Trends change every six months. Identity should survive generations.

None of this means parents must become robotic authority figures disconnected from culture. Parents can enjoy music. Have style. Be modern. Be relatable.

But parenting requires distance.

Not emotional distance. Not cruelty. Perspective.

The parent should not be racing their child to stay young. They should be preparing their child to grow wisely.

Somewhere, adulthood became unfashionable. Responsibility became “boring.” Wisdom became less valuable than relevance.

And now society has millions of adults desperate to be seen, while millions of children desperately need guidance.

A culture survives when elders teach. Not when elders imitate.

Children do not need parents who can go viral. They need parents who can lead.

Let the church say, "Amen."

When AI Can't Tell Us Apart, Who Pays the Price?

I ran a simple experiment. I uploaded the same photo of singer Durand Bernarr into three different AI apps and asked each one to identify him (because I'm old and I didn't know who dude was on the awards show I was watching).

The results?

One confidently said Usher. Another insisted it was Lucky Daye. The third... well, it found another random Black man that wasn't even close.

Three guesses. Three wrong answers. Three completely different people.

If AI can't correctly identify a Grammy-nominated artist whose photos are all over the internet, why should anyone trust it to identify the average citizen standing in front of a camera?

Courtesy of 2026 BET Awards

Now let's talk about the elephant mounted on every telephone pole.

Flock cameras.

They're popping up everywhere. Neighborhoods. Shopping centers. Apartment complexes. Highways. The sales pitch sounds great: safer communities through smarter technology.

Who doesn't want safer neighborhoods?

But there's one question that doesn't get asked nearly enough.

What happens when the technology gets it wrong?

History has already shown that facial recognition technology has often performed worse on people with darker skin tones than on white faces. Researchers have documented those disparities for years. While many systems have improved, they're not perfect, and not every company uses the same technology or the same standards.

That matters.

Because if an AI system mistakes one Black man for another, the consequences aren't just an embarrassing error message.

• Someone gets questioned.
• Someone gets detained.
• Someone has to prove they weren't where the computer claims they were.

And once suspicion enters the room, it doesn't always leave just because the facts finally show up.

My little experiment wasn't a scientific study. It was simply a reminder that confidence isn't the same thing as accuracy. The AI didn't hesitate. It answered as if it knew exactly who it was looking at.

It didn't.

That's what concerns me most.

Computers don't have to be malicious to cause harm. They just have to be wrong often enough in situations where being wrong carries serious consequences.

We're racing to install cameras everywhere while assuming the software behind them deserves our trust.

Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't.

But shouldn't we demand proof before allowing algorithms to help identify suspects?

Technology should assist investigations, not replace common sense.

If AI can confidently mistake Durand Bernarr for Usher, who's to say it won't confidently mistake your neighbor for someone wanted three counties away?

The danger isn't that AI makes mistakes. People do that every day.

The danger is that people often believe a computer simply because it's a computer.

And that's exactly when common sense needs to be louder than artificial intelligence.

Stop Recording. Start Running.

Every time I scroll through social media, I see another fight. 

Not an argument. Not a shouting match. A fight.

And almost every time, the video starts the same way. Someone pulls out a phone. Then another person pulls out a phone. Then five more people pull out phones.

Before long, you've got a crowd of amateur cinematographers standing three feet away from two people throwing punches as if they're covering a heavyweight championship fight for ESPN.

Then it happens.

A gun appears.

The crowd scatters.

The video cuts off.

And somewhere in the comments, people are writing "I can't believe this happened."

Really? Because I can.

What I can't believe is how we've somehow taught an entire generation that the first response to danger is to hit Record instead of running.

I remember being in shady nightclubs as a 20-something and if a fight broke out, your survival instincts kicked in. You got away from the situation. You didn't move closer to get a better look. You didn't stand around hoping to capture the perfect punch. You certainly didn't stay long enough to find out whether somebody had a weapon. 

You left.

Because common sense told you that if two people are willing to fight in public, there's no telling what happens next. 

And there were numerous times my homies and I felt the vibe of the place shift and got out of there before the fight even started. If we saw two guys posturing up and planting that back foot, we knew a punch was going to be thrown soon. Or the tell-tell sign of trouble was someone walking out of the club after a disagreement (because you knew that he was going to his vehicle to retrieve a weapon).

Today's social media culture has flipped that instinct upside down. Everything is content. Every moment is an opportunity for views.

The problem is that real life isn't content. Real life has consequences. A fistfight can become a shooting in seconds. A crowd can become a crime scene in seconds.

And the people filming often become victims simply because they stayed around longer than they should have.

What's especially troubling is that many young people have never been taught a simple rule:

If violence starts, create distance.

Immediately.

Not after you get a few seconds of footage. Not after you post it to your story. Not after you see who wins.

Immediately.

Schools spend time teaching fire drills. They teach lockdown drills. They teach severe weather procedures. Maybe we also need to teach situational awareness. Maybe we need to teach kids that their phone is not more important than their safety. Maybe we need to teach them that nobody has ever regretted leaving a dangerous situation too early.

Every tragic video that circulates online carries the same silent lesson. Most people watching the footage are focused on what happened during the fight.

I'm focused on the people standing around it. Because many of them had a chance to leave. Not because they were trapped but because they were filming.

I'm not suggesting that recording incidents never has value. There are situations where documentation matters. But a random fight in a parking lot, school hallway, gas station, or street corner isn't a documentary project.

Your first responsibility is your own safety. The phone can wait. The likes can wait. The views can wait.

Your life can't.

Parents, please teach your children this.

The Cost to Relationships and Families

This is part five of a five-part series entitled "The Silent Collapse of Men in the Smart Phone Era". It's based on a series of discussions I've had with men who are friends or relatives. The men's ages range from 23 - 51 years old. I'd love your feedback.

The Cost to Relationships and Families

A distracted man may still physically be present while emotionally disappearing.

He comes home but never fully arrives.
He sits with his kids while staring at another man’s podcast clip.
He lies next to his wife while scrolling through strangers.
He loses interest in conversation because his brain now expects constant stimulation every eight seconds.

Over time, resentment grows on both sides.

The family notices. Children notice. Partners notice.

The phone quietly becomes the third person in every relationship.

Men Need Purpose More Than Distraction

Most men do not need another motivational clip.

They need:

• sleep
• discipline
• friendship
• purpose
• physical activity
• real conversation
• time away from screens
• connection with their families

The solution is not becoming anti-technology. Phones are tools. The problem begins when the tool starts shaping a man’s identity, emotions, confidence, and attention span. A phone should assist a man’s life, not replace it. 

Right now, too many men are slowly disappearing into distraction while calling it entertainment. We have to stop making excuses and help each other focus on what's important. We have to hold each other accountable and allow entertainment to be entertainment and real life to be real life.

We can't blend the two.

Part 4: Rage Is Becoming Entertainment

Rage Is Becoming Entertainment

This is part four of a five-part series entitled "The Silent Collapse of Men in the Smart Phone Era". It's based on a series of discussions I've had with men who are friends or relatives. The men's ages range from 23 - 51 years old. I'd love your feedback.

Rage Is Becoming Entertainment

Somewhere along the way, anger stopped being an emotion and became a product.

Social media algorithms have figured out something disturbing: angry people stay engaged longer. So every day we're fed outrage clips, gender wars, political hostility, public humiliation, and endless conflict disguised as entertainment.

For a lot of men, it's happening so gradually they don't even notice. The economy is stressful. Relationships can be challenging. The people making decisions that affect our lives often seem disconnected from the consequences. Then social media pours gasoline on that frustration 24 hours a day because anger generates clicks.

What used to be limited to boxing matches and mixed martial arts has expanded into nearly every corner of culture. "Reality" TV thrives on conflict. Viral videos thrive on confrontation. Comment sections thrive on outrage.

We've become conditioned to watch people get punished.

There was a time when minding your business and letting karma do its work was enough. Now many people feel cheated if they don't get a front-row seat to someone else's downfall.

The problem is that constant exposure to rage doesn't just change what we watch. It changes who we become.

Maybe the most rebellious thing a man can do today is refuse to be angry on command.

Part 3: Sleep Is Being Destroyed

Part 5: The Cost To Relationships And Families

Sleep Is Being Destroyed

This is part three of a five-part series entitled "The Silent Collapse of Men in the Smart Phone Era". It's based on a series of discussions I've had with men who are friends or relatives. The men's ages range from 23 - 51 years old. I'd love your feedback.

Sleep Is Being Destroyed

Men are staying awake later than ever:

• scrolling sports debates (I'm guilty of this)
• gaming
• gambling
• watching highlight clips (Guilty again)
• arguing online
• consuming rage content (Been there. Done that.)

Then they wake up exhausted, irritable, mentally foggy, and disconnected from their families.

A tired man becomes a short-tempered husband.
A distracted man becomes a distant father.
An emotionally absent man becomes a stranger in his own house.

And most of it starts with “just checking my phone for a few minutes.” 

We have to learn how to disconnect because it's taking way too much of a toll on our lives and families. The glow of the phone lighting up the bedroom every night is a sign that you no longer have control over your life. You have to prioritize sleep in order to function in a society that is more chaotic everyday than it was just one week prior.

This world will chew you up and spit you out if you don't rest. And filling your subconscious with endless content right before bed won't allow you to truly unwind thus always keeping you on edge.

Part 2: Hustle Culture Is Burning Men Out

Part 4: Rage Is Becoming Entertainment

Hustle Culture Is Burning Men Out

This is part two of a five-part series entitled "The Silent Collapse of Men in the Smart Phone Era". It's based on a series of discussions I've had with men who are friends or relatives. The men's ages range from 23 - 51 years old. I'd love your feedback.

Nobody talks enough about what smartphones and social media are doing to men because male dysfunction usually gets disguised as “normal behavior.”

A man isn’t always crying when he’s depressed. Sometimes he’s just staring at sports clips for four hours, scrolling through millionaire lifestyles he’ll never reach, gambling on games he doesn’t care about, watching pornography instead of connecting with his partner, or mentally checking out while sitting three feet away from his family.

Modern men are not simply distracted. Many are emotionally sedated. Social media didn’t invent male insecurity, but it industrialized it.

Every day, men consume an endless stream of:

• richer men
• stronger men
• taller men
• more successful men
• men with luxury cars
• men with “perfect” relationships
• men claiming to make $20,000 a month doing nothing

After enough exposure, regular life starts feeling like failure.

A man with a decent job, loving children, and a stable home can suddenly feel inadequate because some influencer rented a Lamborghini for a weekend and filmed motivational speeches in front of it. Civilization, huh?

The internet constantly tells men:

• work harder
• sleep less
• grind more
• dominate
• never relax
• never be satisfied

Rest is treated like weakness.

Average men now feel guilty for having ordinary lives, even though most meaningful lives are ordinary. Raising children. Paying bills. Showing up consistently. Being dependable. None of those things trend online because stability is boring content.

The algorithm rewards extreme wealth, extreme anger, extreme fitness, extreme opinions...

Moderation doesn’t go viral. As a result, many men feel permanently behind in a race they never agreed to join.

Part 1: Pornography and Emotional Numbness

Part 3: Sleep Is Being Destroyed