Fourth Quarter: God's Playbook > My Plan

It’s the 4th quarter, and like any 4th quarter, anticipation and expectation have linked arms and are doing the most.

Quick heads up: I’ve decided to sprinkle varying sports references throughout this post for my own personal writing enjoyment, even though I am not, in any real way, into sports beyond the last leg of my relationship with a basketball player.

A quick replay for those just tuning in: back in 2022, I was in the 4th quarter of a different game when I was awarded a “prestigious” producing fellowship in NYC. At first, I was like, how am I gonna afford to quit my job and do this fellowship? And my Mom, the MVP of my life, said, “You’re going to do it! White people send their kids off to do fellowships and gap years all the time. Black kids should be able to do it too. We’ll figure the money thing out.” God, continue to protect, bless, and cover my mother because she really is THAT girl.

So, I went. This “prestigious” fellowship is typically a year long, but I was awarded an additional two years of support. Fast forward to today, April 2025, and here we are: the 4th quarter of my final year.

Now, I know people are curious. 

What’s the experience been like? 

What are you working on? 

Calm your small talk nerves Baby Bop. Trust me, I can’t wait to spill. I've been writing a full reflection from trying to find housing to getting scammed on LinkedIn. (Yes, LinkedIn. The struggle is alive and well and runs deeply like a pantyhose snag. But we still yet holdin’ on, standing firm, persevering.) I'll be back soon with the full, fleshed-out play-by-play.

This right here? This is just a quick 4th quarter check-in.

When the clock hits zero, what’s next? Where will I land in a world where commercial producing has historically been a rich white man's sport? (And still is.) But let me tell you the real highlight reel has been seeing the producers of color out here grinding, breaking barriers, and shifting the game. It's empowering, inspiring, beautiful and flavorful. It’s giving full-on Lawry’s-Goya-Badia-NuSpice realness, and bay-bee, I am absolutely here for it!

When I started my company in DC 17 years ago, my goal was simple: to create opportunities for women of color, to tell our stories, and to share them with the DC community. That foundation hasn't changed. I’m just a little wiser (and older) now. My vision's expanded, but the heart remains the same. I don’t know exactly what’s gonna happen at the end of this 4th quarter. But if history tells me anything, it’s that I’m that quiet player, you know, the one you don't see coming who somehow scores the final touchdown. I’d love to be cocky enough and say it’s all part of some brilliant master plan. But lying at this age seems moronic and my mama ain't raise no fool. Honestly? I can’t even take the credit. It’s my Coach. He positions me, he pushes me, he calls the plays. All I have to do is trust Him, follow the plays, stay out of my own way (especially when self-doubt and comparison start creeping), and keep moving. And shoutout to my handful of courtside supporters (And yes, I switched sports. And what about it?) because every player needs a real one in the stands. My Mom, my brother, my auntie, and my three closest friends have been cheering me on through these last three years, and I can’t even say thank you enough.

The game ain’t over yet. I’m still pushing through. Soaking up all I am meant to learn. Remembering to document my life and celebrate every win, big or small, as they come. I’ll be back with the full replay soon. Until then no matter what quarter you're in be well!

The best is yet to come.

 

Lumumba, Leadership, Legacy and the Long Arc of Justice

Painting by: Peter Tujibikile

"The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." -MLK

My best friend sent me an Instagram post about Patrice Lumumba recently, and I immediately started thinking about leadership and what it truly means for humans to lead other humans.

For those who don’t know, Lumumba was a Congolese Pan-Africanist who served as the first democratically elected Prime Minister of the Congo. Before taking office, he was heavily involved in the Congolese National Movement, in association with an African nationalist party dedicated to the independence of Congo from the colonial chokehold of Belgium. And you know with any uprising, there’s drama. Not just from the opposition, but often within the movement itself. No, we can’t all just get along, especially when the fight involves control, which usually involves money. Anyway, Lumumba was elected by the people and then murdered by the very forces that feared his power. The coup that took his life was sanctioned by Eisenhower’s CIA, ignited by Belgium, and carried out by those with political agendas that clashed with Lumumba’s. His body was dismembered, dissolved in acid and Belgium kept his tooth as a trophy. Lumumba’s story isn’t unique. I’m sure we can all name too many leaders, at home and abroad, who step into roles of liberation, only to be cut down before their work is done. I can’t help but think about the Biblical story of Jesus, his life, crucifixion, and resurrection. I’ve been hyper-fixated on fallen leader stories like Lumumba's since I was a child. And here I am, in my grown age, still wondering: Why does a difference in belief so often result in violence or death? Why are basic human and civil rights still up for debate by humans, no less? And what about the leaders who seek power but don’t like people? The ones who lead with malice and hate and seem to walk through life unscathed?

I remember one day when I was little, riding in the car with my mommy. A lot of our deepest talks (and arguments) happened while she was behind the wheel. I was confused about how certain people could do awful things, steal, lie, harm others, and still carry themselves like nothing happened. We’re taught at a young age that there are consequences for our actions, so I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t faced any. My mom paused and said, “You know, I really believe God is giving them space and opportunity to repent and seek forgiveness. God is a God of second and third chances. I really believe He’s just waiting for them to take Him up on his offer hoping they’ll make things right.” 

That stuck with me.

We’ve all experienced leadership that’s left us scarred or inspired. There are strengths and flaws in all of us. I’ve seen both in my personal and professional life. Some leaders have broken my spirit, and some have reignited my purpose. But when one considers the weight of true leadership not just titles or optics, but the call to care for and carry others it becomes clear: the greatest leaders often risk the most. And maybe the reason their stories linger as legacy in our hearts is because they remind us that leadership without integrity is a title without substance. A performance. And even though GOD waits for this sort of leader to do the right thing, with every performance there is a closing number. 

Why this post now?

Lumumba’s legacy is still being uplifted and passed around Al Gore’s internet 64 years later while here in the U.S., some leaders are working overtime to erase stories like his from classrooms and consciousness. At the same time, I’m watching leaders who’ve left scars are falling. One by one. Sometimes, we have to release our human craving for immediate justice. Sometimes, we must trust that accountability moves on a divine clock. This is a word of encouragement because we all need it. There are consequences for every action, but the most powerful ones unfold beyond our reach. Be still. Heal. Keep living your life the best way you know how. And let God handle the rest…because He will. 

Ephesians, Exchanges, & Excellent Headphones

Dearest Gentle Reader (in my best Lady Whistledown voice),

Ok so, hear me out...

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ephesians 6:12 lately. Now, I know not everyone identifies as Christian, and I respect everyone’s path, whether you’re practicing a religion or just striving to be a good human being. I see the Bible as a storybook full of beautiful reference points, kind of like how Charlotte’s Web gave me my blueprint for friendship. Charlotte’s love and appreciation for Wilbur? That’s how I choose to love my people.

Now back to Ephesians. The scripture reads:

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.”

Whew. That one stays rent free in my head, especially lately. Whether it’s the chaos in our government or things happening in my personal orbit, I find myself coming back to that verse as I try to make peace with the madness. And after seeing Sinners which, listen, that’s a whole other blog post I need to write once I emotionally recover, I realized just how deeply this verse is threaded through history. It’s been passed down, absorbed, and is still very much active today. We think we’re fighting with each other, but this verse reminds us that it’s bigger than us. The real battle is against “spiritual wickedness in high places.” And when that wickedness gets into your mind it can take hold of your entire being.  Am I sounding like Dr. Umar? LORD, I hope not. I promise I’m speaking from a grounded place. I’m not out here trying to be a pseudo-Hotep telling lies masked as Black Consciousness. 

But I digress.

These past few weeks, I’ve been... mal-tempered. Annoyed. Frustrated. Disappointed. Not just by random folks, but by people I expect more from. And I had to check myself. I know who I am. I know what I want. I’m walking in purpose with faith as my GPS. So why am I allowing people to get under my skin. “Get it together, Cyn,” I told myself one afternoon, feeling like I was imploding internally. I took a walk. Landed at a restaurant. Ordered gumbo. Put on my headphones, queued up my audiobook, and started playing Tetris (yes, it's a thing). I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. A woman pointed to her ears. I slid off my headphones.

“Excuse me sis, what kind of headphones are those?”
“Umm… PIC? P-I-C, I think? Uh...I got ’em on Amazon.”

“Are they good?”

“Yeah, I love them.”

She nodded, headed to the bathroom, then came back. 

“Do you have an Amazon storefront?”
I told her no.

“You should. Sign up for the influencer program and add the headphones to your storefront. I want to buy them, but you should get paid. We in a recession, honey.”

I laughed. “Girl, it’s fine. They’re only like $16.”

“Can you text me the link?”

I handed her my phone to type her number in. 

I texted her the link shortly after.

That tiny interaction reminded me that yes, there are frustrating exchanges that leave you feeling unseen and undervalued. But there are also those little glimmers of grace. Conversations that feel human and pure and warm and affirming. And while they might not happen every day, they do happen. So gather those moments. Store them in that sacred place where you keep all your joys. They’re the antidote to your frustrations.

And let me go ahead drop some of the gems Ephesians 6 offers to prep us for the attacks on our spirit:

• Children, obey and honor your parents.

• Parents, don’t exasperate your children. (I cackled typing this.)

• Serve with your whole heart.

• Be strong in the Lord.

• Put on the full armor of God.

• Stand in truth.

• Stand in righteousness.

• Stand in faith.

• Stand in the Word.

• PRAY.

• Pray not just for yourself, but for others, too.

And in all this… comes peace.

Now listen, Ephesians also slides in some words for the slave and the master and, Apostle Paul, baby, we’re gonna leave that right there in your little letter where you left it boo. I don't feel like unpacking colonized theology. 2025 is already doing too much. No thank you, sir. Again, I’m only here to take what speaks life and leave what doesn’t serve.

I’m taking with me the clarity to know what I’m truly up against, the wisdom to choose my battles with intention, and the audacity to protect myself, my family, and my friends by bowing my head in prayer like it’s a luxury, because it is.

Spiritual warfare is real. But so is the power of joy. So is the softness in authentic human connection. So is the strength of knowing who you are and whose you are. So, suit up. Pray hard if that your thing. Affirm if that's your thing. Laugh loudly. Love your people deeply. And when the darkness tries it (because it will), remember your why and stand boldly.

Yours Truly,

Lady in Her Headphones, Playing Tetris, and Minding Her Business

Self Accountability: I Am My Responsibility. No one else.

Art by Wild Iris

Heeeeey Blog!

I know, I know, I’ve been such a neglectful partner. But I miss you. So much. I think about you often, especially when I have unsolicited opinions about life’s happenings. I sincerely apologize for the neglect. Writing and time are lovers, and I need to carve out space in my life for their magic to happen organically. I’m working on it. I promise.

Which brings me to what I actually came on here to talk about: self-accountability.

Lately, I’ve been in awe of human behavior, from our current administration to everyday interactions in my own life. It’s so easy to judge. In fact, it can become second nature if you're not careful. You know what I mean, when you make assumptions based on a glance, a rumor, or a past encounter. I’ve done it, and I know it’s been done to me. So I’m actively working not to do that to others.

Now let’s be real: some people are truly intolerable. But part of self-accountability is recognizing that you don’t have to tolerate the intolerable just to seem likable, especially if doing so means sacrificing who you are. I admittedly walk a thin line with this. I’ve prioritized being amicable to people whose behavior is not. And that opens the door to stress, frustration, and resentment. And we not doing that anymore. Life is already hard enough.

Disassociating or removing yourself isn’t wrong. Letting go of friendships, groups, and even family members where you don’t feel like your best self isn’t wrong. Prioritizing your mental and physical wellness is a must. A non-negotiable. However, there’s a trend now where people love to say, “I’m protecting my peace" but they exude the very dysfunction they’re running from. Protecting your peace means you have to actually be peaceful. That takes work. Time. Self-accountability. If there’s a storm inside, it’s only a matter of time before it shows up outside. Holding yourself accountable means being real enough to admit that everything ain’t everybody else’s fault.

When you’re faced with people who are intolerable, ask yourself: what’s the lesson here for me? Do I lack patience? Did I align myself with people or places that don’t reflect who I want to be in the world? Or is God showing me a mirror of myself and begging me to do better? Sometimes the traits we can’t stand in others are the ones we refuse to face in ourselves.

I’ve been on a long journey with self-accountability. I wrestle with knowing the difference between holding myself accountable and just being way too hard on myself. The best remedy has been staying in tune with my innermost thoughts. Sitting in silence. Letting reflection do its work. I’ve always chased the best version of myself, like I’m on this lifelong quest to be a light. But I don’t always feel like a light. Most of the time, I feel dim. The light is lit, but low. And honestly? I’m okay with that. The dimness is where I find my peace. I think I’ve always been this way, but society doesn’t always welcome dimness. It wants you at full beam all the time in order to be acknowledged, respected, invited, recommended. And yeah, I know I’ve missed out on opportunities by choosing to stay dim. But I hold myself accountable by pushing myself to beam when I have to, if only just long enough for people to know I’m not an idiot, that I’m approachable, and that I bring value to the room. It’s draining. In a perfect world, my work and work ethic would speak for themselves. But right now, it’s not enough.

And listen, on God using the intolerable to wake you up? Been there, done that several times. I remember freshman year of high school. The seniors were mean, cliquey, and just flat-out rude. I promised myself then when I became a senior, I would never treat underclassmen that way. And I kept that promise. God was waking me up even at 14. After college, I came home and got super involved with my childhood church. I slowly realized I was turning into one of those “mean church ladies," the same ones I used to side-eye growing up and when God held the mirror up, I didn’t like what I saw. or how I was treated by people I considered family. In this chapter God really had to hurt my feelings to get me back on track with who he was molding me to be. So I left. All of it. The people. The toxic behavior. The church politics. I went into isolation, listened to God, reflected on my part in it all, and slowly realigned with who I wanted to be. And it didn't stop there. God has been guiding me on the self accountability tour in various chapters of my life and I've had to look in the mirror and say, "Now Cyn, boo, that's not who you are or who you want to be. It's time to get out of your own way." As a result I found adjusting my behavior meant I had to change my surroundings, filter information that I choose to consume, audit my friend and family relationships, and follow through on the promises I have made to myself. Self-accountability is hard. It’s heartbreaking. Lonely. But it will shape you into the best version of yourself. And this world needs more humans who are whole on the inside, so their behavior doesn’t traumatize the rest of humanity.

I am my responsibility. No one else.

You are your responsibility. No one else.

Practice self-accountability.