In a world that’s constantly trying to silence us, it’s easy to feel like your voice doesn’t matter, like your story is already written. But what if the narrative they’ve been feeding us isn’t the truth? What if your power is far greater than you’ve been led to believe? This piece is a call to every Black man who’s ever felt overlooked, undervalued, or trapped in a system that wasn’t built for us. It’s time to reclaim our story, to stand together, and to recognize the strength that lies within. Take a moment, Brother—this is for you.
Brother, My Black Brother,
Can we just talk? I’d like to sit down with you for a moment, just you and me. Let’s talk like old friends, like we’ve known each other our whole lives. Because in many ways, we have. We’ve walked the same streets, felt the same frustrations, faced the same obstacles. I know you’re tired. I know there are days when it feels like the world is stacked against you when your voice feels like it’s just an echo in a room full of noise. You know? Not long ago, we were just 3/5 human. Whose math was that, though?
Let me tell you why I’m drawn to politics—maybe for reasons that aren’t so conventional. Every couple of years, there’s an election, but every four years, it feels like the ground shifts beneath us. Those moments, when the world seems to hold its breath, are enormous for people like us—for those who’ve been scapegoated, ostracized, and pushed to the margins. That’s you and me, Black man. In those moments, when everything is on the line, I want us to be heard. We need to be heard, and I want us to matter. I want us to make a difference. And for that, I need you. I need you to stand with me, to vote, to be counted. You might be sitting there, thinking, “Why does my vote matter? What’s the point when it feels like no one’s listening anyway?”
And I hear you, Brother. I hear that frustration, that anger, that sense of hopelessness. But let me tell you something—the fact that you feel this way isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign that you’ve been paying attention, that you see the truth of the world we’re living in. Yes, the system is rigged. Yes, it’s designed to make you feel small, to make you believe that your value is overlooked, that your voice doesn’t count. But that’s not because you’re insignificant. It’s because you’re powerful. It’s because, deep down, those who try to silence you are terrified of what will happen if you ever truly realize your power.
Think about it—why would they go to such lengths to demoralize you if you didn’t matter? Why would they work so hard to convince you that your voice doesn’t count if they didn’t know just how much it could shake things up? They know, Brother. They know that if you ever decide to stand up and speak out, the walls they’ve built around you will start to crumble. That’s why they’re so determined to keep you down and tell brilliant lies. But here’s the thing—they don’t get to decide your story. You do.
I know you might be thinking, “But what’s the point? I’m more likely to end up in prison than to see real change. If four of us are hanging out, one of us is going to be locked up. Those are the stats. So why even try?” And I get that. I really do. It’s hard to hold on to hope when the odds are so stacked against us. But Brother—Black Brother—those odds aren’t set in stone. They’re just the story they’ve been telling us for generations. And stories can change. We can change this narrative, reframe our biography, and write a new chapter where we’re not just surviving—we’re thriving.
You are valuable. Your life is valid. Your voice matters, and your vote? It can move mountains. Those who’ve spent so long trying to convince you otherwise are doing it because they know the truth—they know that your agency, if you ever discover it, would overwhelm the lies they’ve built their power on. But to tap into that power, you have to start by believing in your own worth. You have to look past their lies and see yourself for who you truly are.
Maybe you’re thinking, “But how? How do I do that when everything around me tells me I’m less than?” It’s not easy, Brother, and I’m not going to pretend that it is. You’ve been taught to measure your worth by someone else’s standards, to chase their money, to seek their validation. But here’s the truth: You’ve never been three-fifths human. They lied because they felt small. You don’t need their money; you need your vision (stop and read that again). Wealth isn’t just about what’s in your wallet, bank account, or your CashApp. It’s about what’s in your heart, your mind, your community. If you’ve got six dollars and someone else has six cents, you have the power to lift them up. Wealth isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about using what you have to create opportunities, to build shared power, to strengthen your community.
We have more options than we realize, but we’ve been convinced that wealth and power have to look a certain way. We’ve been sold a lie that says success means playing by their rules. But real success, real wealth, starts with vision. It starts with seeing the possibilities that others miss, with using your resources—whatever they may be—to uplift those around you. That’s where true power lies.
And I know—right about now, you might be thinking, “But I don’t really know her, Kamala. I don’t know this Congressman or this Mayor. I don’t really know the issues. How am I supposed to make informed decisions?” Brother, I get that. It’s easy to feel disconnected from the political process, to feel like it’s all happening over your head. But let me ask you this—how well do you know the people who’ve been keeping you down? How well do you know the issues that have been shaping your life? The truth is, they’ve made it their business to know you, to exploit your weaknesses, to play on your fears. It’s time to turn the tables. It’s time to make it your business to know them, to understand the issues, to use your voice to demand the change you want to see.
Then there’s that other thought, the one that creeps in late at night: “I’ve been a victim of this system for so long, what’s the point of trying to change it? Isn’t it just easier to go along with it, to survive however I can?” Brother, that’s exactly what they want you to think. They’ve set up this system to push you into a corner, to make you feel like your only option is to play by their rules. But you don’t have to accept that. You can break free from that cycle. You can write a new story for yourself, one that isn’t defined by their limits.
You might also be thinking, “But does the presidency or any of these offices even matter? Does any of this political stuff actually do anything for me?” And again, I get that. It’s hard to see the impact when you’re up against so much. But here’s the thing—the presidency, the government, these institutions—they weren’t built for us. They were built to work against us. But that doesn’t mean we should walk away from them. And you should know, again, that’s exactly what they want you to do. They want you to believe that non-action is not an action at all, but it is. It’s a passive way to be uninvolved, operating as a distraction to the fact that you are actively removing yourself. So this means we should fight to change these positions to make them work for us. Your vote, your voice, your agency—they’re tools. And in the right hands, they can reshape the very institutions that have tried to keep us down.
And I know—there’s a tendency to commiserate, to sit in our grief and frustration, to feel like we’re not alone in our pain. And in some ways, we’re not. But Brother, grief is not the foundation of joy and hope; it’s the barrier. Those who encourage us to wallow in our grief are doing us no favors. They’re keeping us stuck, keeping us from moving forward. We have to resist that temptation. We have to find a way to rise above it, to see beyond the pain, to reach for something better.
Finally, I want to speak to that deep-seated feeling that so many of us have—the idea that the government is against us, that we’re nothing more than scapegoats in a system designed to protect white comfort. It’s true—they’ve singled us out. They’ve made us targets because they know that if they can keep us divided, keep us jaded and jailed—whether behind bars or in our minds—they can maintain their hold on power. They’ve built up these strawmen conspiracies, made them seem real, so that we’ll turn away from the very systems we need to reclaim.
But here’s the truth, Brother: We don’t have to accept the story they’ve written for us. We can write our own. We can reclaim our nobility, our identity, our agency. We can see ourselves as valuable, valid, powerful. And when we do, we can change the world.
So I’m asking you to join me, Brother. To stand with me. To believe in yourself the way I believe in you. Because I see your potential. I see your strength. I see the power you hold. And I know—deep down—you see it too.
Living 2 Love,
Marquis
3 replies on “Black Brother”
It needed to be said! Eloquently stated!
I may not be a black brother, but…wow, just wow. “ Why would hey go to such lengths to demoralize you if you don’t matter?” PREACH!
I’m so grateful you found this piece. Thank you for blessing the mic.