I’m Tired of Fighting for Black Owned Brands and Black Creators

In 2020, I launched One Million Black-Owned Brands—an initiative built on love, purpose, and belief in Black excellence. The mission was clear: create infrastructure, opportunity, and visibility for Black-owned businesses. I personally reached out to over 5,000 Black entrepreneurs. We offered heavily discounted services—branding, marketing, mentorship, visibility tools—all designed to level the playing field.

We got 20 sign-ups.

Let that sink in: 20 out of 5,000.

We still pushed through. We worked tirelessly to build something sustainable. But when you're pouring everything into a movement and the very people it's for treat it like it's optional, eventually the exhaustion hits. So we closed our doors.

Fast forward to 2025. We gave it another shot. This time, it wasn’t just about business. We opened up again—offering passive income opportunities for Black women, remote work setups, African studies, mentorship for young people, high-quality educational content, and more.

Crickets.

This time, I reached out to over 10,000 Black-owned businesses. 80% of the responses? "Can I get it for free?" The rest? "Can I get a discount?" And this is with services already deeply discounted, many of them structured for long-term impact and generational benefit.

The silence is loud. The disinterest is disheartening. What’s most painful is that this wasn’t just about entrepreneurship. It was about helping vulnerable Black women. It was about building safer, smarter futures for young Black people. It was about community, period.

But maybe I was wrong about what “community” means.

I don’t say any of this with bitterness. I say it with fatigue. Deep, soul-level exhaustion. I’ve shown up. Over and over. I’ve invested time, money, knowledge, sweat, and care into something I believed was bigger than me. And every time, it feels like shouting into a void.

Maybe the timing is off. Maybe the model is flawed. Or maybe—just maybe—we've reached a point where too many of us are focused only on our individual brands, forgetting that no real success happens in isolation.

Whatever the reason, I’m done carrying it alone.

From now on, I’m moving differently. I’m protecting my energy. I’m no longer bending over backwards for a community that won’t meet me halfway.

This isn’t giving up. It’s letting go of the weight that was never mine to carry alone.

Why did I start this?

1. Because the Black community deserved better systems and support.

2. Because I believed access to quality branding, business growth tools, and mentorship should be affordable—not impossible.

3. Because I saw too many Black women hustling without real options for remote work or passive income.

4. Because I wanted to create a bridge between the diaspora and the continent, lifting up women in Ghana and across the global Black community.

5. Because I thought if I build it, they will come.

But most didn’t.

I reached out to 5,000+ Black-owned businesses in 2021. Only 20 signed up, despite the services being high quality and incredibly affordable.

Still, we pushed through.

Then in 2025, we reopened with a broader mission: passive income opportunities for Black women, remote work, African studies, youth mentorship, powerful digital content. We reached out to over 10,000 businesses this time.

What did we hear?

“Can I get it free?”

“Can you lower the price?”

Over 80% of the responses were about discounts or freebies—when the prices were already low. And the rest? Mostly silence. No engagement. No effort. No follow-through.

All of this while we were working to help vulnerable Black women and offer rare, scalable opportunities.

At some point, you have to ask: Does anyone actually care?

Maybe the timing is wrong. Maybe the mindset isn't there. Maybe too many of us are focused on our own brand empires and not enough on community growth.

Whatever the case, I can’t carry this on my back anymore. I’m tired.

This is a sad day—but this is where we are.

From now on:

We will no longer be offering services or community-specific opportunities to the Black community.

The digital products on the site will still be available to purchase.

I’ll blog occasionally to support my personal initiatives—open to everyone, not just one group.

And for the next 48 hours only, Black women can still sign up for passive income opportunities and remote work options. After that, these will be removed.

If you're seeing this too late and you're *serious* about taking part, email me at [email protected] and I’ll consider your request—but these offerings will not be made publicly available again.

The truth is, it’s nice to build something just for us.

But when your own people don’t value it—when they meet your labor with apathy—it starts to feel pointless. It feels like yelling into a void while burning out quietly behind the scenes.

I’m usually an optimist. I don’t like putting negativity into the world. But I can’t pretend anymore.

I enjoy running my other businesses far more than I enjoy running this one—because in those spaces, people show up. People invest. People care.

Here? It often feels like I’m beating a dead horse. And I just can’t do it anymore.

If you still want in, you’ve got 48 hours. Otherwise, I wish you the best—but I’m moving on.

Sign up or grab something from the store here.