I want to give a shoutout to a friend who recently opened up and shared that he had stopped cutting hair—his passion and profession—after losing a young mentee. The grief was too heavy. That vulnerability resonated with me.
In my 20s, I was working toward becoming a DJ. I had dreams, a passion, and was making moves. But after losing one of my closest friends—someone I called a brother—during a major performance, the depression that followed robbed me of that drive. The energy behind my turntables faded.
When we lose people, we often bury parts of ourselves with them.
Losing My Grandfather, Losing My Art
At 11 years old, I had just moved from Queens to Long Island, to the Gordon Heights section of Medford. Around that time, I lost my grandfather to lung cancer. (F*** cancer, forever.) He never got to see the house we moved into—something that still bothers me deeply.
I was adjusting to middle school and had no clue how to process that type of loss. I just wanted a proper goodbye, one last hug. Back then, I showed incredible promise as an artist. Drawing was my world. But when he passed, I lost my confidence. I lost my spark. The one person who believed in my gift was gone.
From there, I spent years trying to reinvent myself. Social anxiety hit hard. I tried to blend in, to survive middle and high school. Many people never knew how much I carried during those years. College gave me my first real break.
Looking back, I often regret not staying consistent with my art. I joke that I’m still stuck at a 14-year-old’s skill level. But I give myself credit—the artist in me never fully left. It just found new forms: in music, in mentoring, in writing. Still, I wonder what might have happened if I had kept drawing through high school. But no one around me understood the depth of my gift or how to nurture it.
That’s a common story—especially for boys of color. We’re often told to put down the pencil and pick up a basketball. So I did. But deep down, I was never that guy.
Losing My Brother, Losing the Beat
Just like I lost my artistic drive with my grandfather, when my boy passed, I lost my DJ confidence. He always spoke to me from a place of strength. He would not let me stay down. Without that voice, the booth felt empty.
But today—while reflecting—I realized something.
Last night, I DJed on YouTube Live to celebrate hitting 100 subscribers on our JustINSPIRE Mentoring YouTube channel. That felt good.
It made me think: Every 100 subscribers, I’ll go live and DJ.
Let’s do a celebration every time—until we hit 10K. That’s 99 more virtual pep rallies. And when we reach 10K? I’ll do a full show, in person—maybe back in New York. It’s time to conquer that fear once and for all.
The Real Message: Reclaim Your Gifts
We honor the people we’ve lost by picking up the talents we once put down. That’s how they live on. That’s how their encouragement continues.
So whatever it is you do—paint, write, produce, cut hair, or DJ—don’t let your grief silence your gift. That talent is your tribute.
This one’s for the ones we lost. The SAGA continues.
Be Wise. Be True. Just INSPIRE
