Earlier today, I came across a clip on Facebook featuring a gentleman from the music and entertainment world. He spoke with genuine concern about watching, from a distance, how Jay-Z could allow Dame Dash to fall so far. He reminded viewers that Jay and Dame aren’t strangers — they’re godfathers to each other’s children. That hits different.
He pointed out how Jay-Z has kept guys like Memphis Bleek and Tata in the circle — ensuring they’ll always be good. But he asked the tough question: “What about your peer? The one who helped you get it all?” Dame helped open doors, build legacy. And now, he’s down to just his family. The speaker called it sad. I can’t lie — I agree.
I’m not anti-wealth. I’m anti-greed. And honestly, greed is more present among the needy than the fortunate in America. That’s a tough truth.
When I scrolled the comments, I saw what I expected: “That’s Dame’s fault. He made bad choices. Stop counting another man’s money.” Fair. Accountability is real. But are we also allowed to ask: Where is the heart? Where is the community?
Dave Chappelle said it best during his powerful monologue earlier this year:
“Do not forget your humanity. And please have empathy for displaced people, whether they’re in the Palisades or Palestine.”
He wasn’t talking about politics. He was talking about empathy. About how society only sees pain when it’s poor and pitiful. If you have money, the world assumes you can handle anything. But no one asks what happens when our ability to feel for one another dies?
Hurt people hurt people. And prolonged struggle without relief will change your personality — that’s science. Many of us have had to fight and claw for progress in this life. And it has divided us. It’s blinded us to the truth: together, we could have so much more.
As a Black man in America, I speak with love, not shame, when I say we’ve lost something. We’ve lost unity. We’ve lost principle. We’ve started preaching hate like it’s strategy. The loudest voices sometimes scream the most bias at each other — not at our oppressors. And many of us have normalized turning our backs on one another.
We have to be honest. Too many of us care more about someone else’s money than we do about our own values. I see other communities uplift and build each other in ways we rarely do. It’s not that we don’t love — it’s that we often confuse honesty with hate and accountability with betrayal.
I’m blessed. I have real support. My brother Morial has made sure I have a roof over my head, even when life hit hard. But not everyone has that. And I know there are men out there like Dame, like so many others, who don’t need millions— they just need someone to remember that community matters.
If I had a billion dollars, I wouldn’t just buy more things. I’d build schools. I’d offer mentorship programs for free. I’d fund JustINSPIRE to reach thousands. I’d never let someone I love suffer if I could help.
This isn’t a call to worship celebrities. It’s a reminder to examine our own hearts. Are we really building community? Are we really serving each other? Or are we just another voice in the comments, proud to say, “not my problem”?
Start with home first. Make sure your house is in order before you speak about race healing or social change.
I have never experienced overt racism that could destroy me. But I have been cut down by betrayal, disloyalty, and disregard — all from people who look like me.
Still, I serve. Still, I lead. Still, I love.
Because I believe in us. I believe in something better.
Let’s build it.
Be Wise. Be True. JustINSPIRE.
