I grew up believing and looking up to the idea that I had to be exceptional just to get by. “You have to work twice as hard to get half as much,” is something that my family always said to me, when I was younger and even now. And I did. I’ve pushed, excelled, and achieved. But somewhere along the way, I started to wonder… what is the cost of putting in so much work, so much time and dedication?
To me Black excellence is a badge of honor, but it’s also a heavy burden. It’s a bar set by white patriarchy, a standard rooted in systems that were never built for us. We’re taught that our worth is tied to our accomplishments, that we have to prove ourselves worthy of a “seat at the table.” And like Beyonce said “We dress a certain way, We walk a certain way, We talk a certain way, We paint a certain way We, We make love a certain way, you know? All of these things we do in a different Unique, specific way that is personally ours.” But even when we do these things in order to fit in or become a better “version” of ourselves, we finally see the seat at the table was never really ours to begin with or we do, and we sell-out being black all together.
This obsession with excellence feeds into a cycle that keeps us striving but never truly satisfied. It’s no coincidence that Black people are one of the largest demographics fueling the luxury goods market, spending billions on brands that often don’t even acknowledge us like Lululemon for instance. We’re buying status, visibility, validation in a world that constantly tries to erase us. It’s the illusion of power in a system where real power remains out of reach for so many of us.
Meanwhile, the same community that’s spending the most on designer goods is also one of the demographics with the highest rates of poverty. That’s not an accident; it’s a design. White supremacy thrives on our overperformance and our undercompensation. We’re overworked, underpaid, and told to look good while doing it. Because if we look the part, maybe they won’t notice how much they’ve taken from us.
But here’s the thing: Black excellence shouldn’t have to mean perfection. It shouldn’t mean sacrificing our mental health, our time, our joy just to prove we belong. We don’t owe the world our brilliance or time. We don’t owe them our success stories. We’re worthy simply because we exist.
Imagine a world where Black people didn’t feel the need to push constantly for excellence, where we could embrace mediocrity without shame. Where we could rest, dream, fail, and still be something in life. That’s the kind of freedom I want for us. Because excellence shouldn’t be a survival strategy. It should be a choice, a celebration, a gift we give ourselves, not something we feel forced to chase in a system rigged against us.
But let me know how you all feel on this topic. Do you often feel as a person of color or as a black person that you have to work harder to achieve less? Let me know in the comments!
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