Does Black Excellence Always Have to be Tied to Capitalistic Metrics of Success?

As I was logging into my HBO Max account, I noticed the promo shot for Issa Rae’s new reality series, Sweet Life Los Angeles. While being a big fan of Issa Rae, I can’t say I’ve been super excited to check out the show because I just can’t do lifestyle reality shows. The drama always feels way too manufactured for me. But, I still deeply admire Rae for attempting to create an alternative image of young black people on reality shows.

While glancing at the image, I decided to do some research on what people were saying about the show—which was mostly positive. But as I was reading this article, which features a link to the official trailer, I couldn’t help but notice two of the cast members talking about aspiring to be millionaires and then another sound bite from someone discussing Black excellence.

And with the juxtaposition of these concepts, I couldn’t help but notice how inextricably linked Black excellence and money have become over the years. It made me stop and wonder whether or not having a lot of money was an accurate representation of being successful and Black or if it was all just a capitalistic mirage that we’re pushed to buy into, and then using the pursuit of Black excellence to justify?

Have we been using #BlackExcellence to mask a toxic relationship to capitalism?

Beyoncé & JAY-Z for @TiffanyAndCo. 💎 pic.twitter.com/hjCiMFyEyM

— BEYONCÉ LEGION (@Bey_Legion) August 23, 2021

In the last few months or so, my therapist and I have been talking a lot about what kind of life I want to live now that I have exited grad school and will be heading back into the working world; a place that had caused me so much trauma when I left it in 2018. When I first arrived on her zoom screen at the start of my grad school career, I was a hot bed of pent up emotional trauma.

While my first job out of college was definitely what many would have considered a dream job, behind the scenes, it often times felt like anything but that. While I deeply appreciate what I learned there and the life experience it gave me, there were also a lot of unhealthy traits that I had picked up from this job as well. The most problematic one being that my ability to be excellent was always tied to a number—the number of videos I turned in, the number of followers I had, the number of views my videos got.

And after working in this toxic environment for 4 years, it had become deeply ingrained in my mind that there was no middle ground when it came to success. Either my video got a million views and was thus a success, or it was a failure (even when I would have gotten hundreds of thousands of views). And in my past, I definitely did not do failure.

I have always been someone that was striving for #BlackExcellence way before the hashtag even existed. Whatever I set my sights on, I always aimed to be the best at it. In elementary school, I wanted to be class valedictorian in 8th grade. Not only did I make that happen, but in my speech I wrote about striving to attend what I perceived to be the best school for college at the time, Harvard University. Instead of going to the local high school, I worked hard to attend a private boarding school in Concord, MA. And while I didn’t end up going to Harvard, I still got an elite, private, liberal arts education in which I graduated cum laude and had been featured on the dean’s list for two semesters among a myriad of other achievements.

Me graduating in 2014 from Scripps College

As a child I grew up not seeing Black people have much or hearing the popular saying “Black people can’t have nothing nice." So, from this, I felt like I needed to have it all—the best education, the best clothes, the best technology, the best job. I wanted nothing less than the best and was always willing to do the work to get it.

And at 22, I have to say that I was also living a pretty sweet life myself—I could afford to live in an apartment on my own right in the middle of Los Angeles. I had a pretty cushy job making online videos on topics I was passionate about. My spoken word poems were blowing up the internet and allowing me to make a name for myself. I had adoring fans and a huge social media following. This should have felt like the sweet life. I should have felt on top of the world.

And yet, no one knew that sometimes I’d go home and think about ending my life. Even after advocating for others to appreciate the value of their own lives, I still didn’t quite like my own very much and I couldn’t figure out why. I mean wasn’t having the “best” supposed to mean that I’d be living my best life? Why was I still so unhappy after achieving a “sweet life”?

“As a child I grew up not seeing Black people have much or hearing the popular saying ‘Black people can’t have nothing nice.’ So, from this, I felt like I needed to have it all.”

So, I’m a pretty straight up and direct person, and I’ve learned that I also appreciate those qualities in a therapist. I love that my therapist delivers her inferences straight up—no chaser. So, something that I have come to discover while working with her is how deeply rooted capitalism is in our collective understanding of a successful life; that being the “best” in our society typically revolves around how much you have. It means being able to afford the “best,” no matter how absurdly priced or unnecessary the best is marketed to us.

And don’t get me wrong, I love treating myself to nice things. I’m currently eyeing a Prada wallet as I type (second-hand though cuz I’m totally team Broke + Bougie). And I don’t know why, but there is truly something so satisfying about seeing a Black person step out of a luxury car or eating at a fancy restaurant—I’m guessing it stems from the power of subverting the common, incorrect narrative that Black people can’t afford nice things.

But over the last few months, I’ve really been pushing myself to question what it means to have “nice things.”

Are luxury goods the only kind of “nice things” worth striving for? Can “nice things” be inclusive of just having a car that works or a home that comfortably accommodates my family? Or does it always have to be about owning a Tesla and living in a mega mansion?

Is having access to “nice things” actually worth it if I have to work crazy hours at a job that makes me miserable or leaves me little time to enjoy said “nice things?”

Does living a quality life always have to mean living an expensive life?

There is research that suggested that wealth does not always equal happiness and, for a time, it was believed that happiness levels plateaued for those earning above $75,000. However, this article also brings up a good point that "anybody who says that money doesn’t buy happiness has never done their grocery shopping at the dollar store," signifying that having money is a key factor in meeting basic needs that contribute to our happiness and well-being.

There is a strong sense of security that comes with having money and knowing that you can meet your basic needs without worry. And I believe that is a huge reason why I always let myself be worked to the bone. Growing up not always having access to what I needed or wanted. constantly filled me with a strong sense of lacking. And while my family always did their best, and truly made miracles out of thin air, I grew up with a strong desire of wanting to do more and have more because I believed that it would make my life better. That some how having money and nice things would make me feel whole.

But as I have gotten older, I have come to realize that “having money” and “being a millionaire” are two totally different things. Can I be part of team #BlackExcellence if I make enough to not worry about my basic needs but I’m not a millionaire or billionaire? Why is it so aspirational or “excellent” to hoard money for the sake of a title?

I know that my desire to be the best is half part of my personality and half the product of growing up in a racist world that demanded me to be twice as good to get half as much. But after being in therapy for the last 3 years I have become more attuned to the problematic ways in which being seen as living the “sweet life” or “living my best life” are set up to make me a work horse for capitalistic greed.

And while I will still strive to have the best and be the best, I have also learned to not let it come at the expense of my sanity. I am opening up my perspective as to what it means to be the best. I am now choosing to strive for a type of Black excellence that also includes living my best mental life as well. This means that I might not die a millionaire or billionaire, but I like to believe that I will die having just enough while doing what I love and not being a work horse that feels pretty excellent to me.