Frankly Speaking with Adrienne P. Whitaker

02/09/2026

I Am Black History. Today, I return to my alma mater, the College of William & Mary, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Mu Upsilon Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated—chartered February 7, 1976, as the first Black sorority on campus.

Ten years later, on March 22, 1986, the chapter became the first Black sorority to have a house on campus. I remember that day.

When I graduated from William & Mary, only six Black undergraduate students graduated with me—out of approximately 1,400 students. My four years on campus were marked by resistance and prejudice—yes, even in the late 1980s. But they were also filled with joy, friendship, deep connections, and the finding of my voice.

Much has changed—on the campus, within the chapter, and within me.

Today, I am proud of the university’s commitment to inclusion. It has been a long journey since Hulon LaVaughan Willis, Sr. became the first African American student admitted to William & Mary in 1951, earning his Master of Education in 1956. Later, Lynn Briley, Karen Ely, and Janet Brown Strafer—the “Legacy Three”—became the first Black undergraduate and residential students in 1967.

As I prepare to drive to Williamsburg, I reflect on the fact that I was not the first in my family admitted to William & Mary. Two decades before me, my father was accepted—but did not attend. His parents, my grandmother especially, feared sending him to a university in the Jim Crow South that might never truly accept him. Instead, he attended Fisk University, where he was nurtured. He later earned a MBA from Golden Gate University and a third degree from George Washington University. Throughout his academic journey he earned all As and one B.

Though he never attended William & Mary, he carried Tribe pride through me—right to the end, even making spirited comments about William & Mary versus Harvard in his final days.

And I wasn’t the last in my family either. My cousin Bert Ashe earned his PhD from William & Mary.

So here I go—back to where my sorority life began — a lifetime commitment to service.
And as I return, I whisper, “Go Tribe.”

Because I earned it. ❤️🔺💚💛

02/07/2026

I Am Black History: How It Started (👉🏾 recorded narration in the comments).

Activism is in my blood. I was raised in a home where politics, justice, and social issues were part of everyday conversation. Our living room held three tall bookshelves—our family library—filled with the works of Amiri Baraka, Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, Angela Davis, Toni Morrison, and other Black writers and thinkers. These were not books I discovered later in life; they were required reading while I was still in elementary school.

My mother was an avid reader who made sure I didn’t just read these works—we discussed them. She taught me who the authors were, why their voices mattered, and how their words fit into a larger struggle for dignity and liberation. My father, whose first of three degrees was in history, carried a deep passion for American History. Summers at home often came with assignments, discussions, and impromptu lectures. History was not something I memorized; it was something we interrogated.

I also learned early that social consciousness requires action. I still remember the day my mother was arrested for protesting a Denny’s that was discriminating against Black and Hispanic customers. That moment made something clear to me: awareness alone is not enough. If you see injustice, you speak up. And if necessary, you put your body, your voice, and your reputation on the line.

So yes, I was nurtured to be socially conscious. But more importantly, I was raised to act.

What I came to understand later is that my commitment to justice did not begin with my parents—or even with me.

My story of activism stretches back more than a century, to my great-grandparents and extended family—the Saunders, Johnsons, Rahmings, and Rolles—who immigrated to the United States from the Bahamas. Over the course of this month, I will share their stories and the reasons they came. Each journey holds lessons about courage, survival, and the pursuit of opportunity in a country that promised much and delivered unevenly.

Today, I begin with one ancestor whose life continues to shape how I understand leadership and resistance.

Alexander Rahming (1884–1922)

Alexander Rahming was born on February 24, 1884, in Nassau, Bahamas. As a young man, he emigrated to the United States, eventually settling in New York City after marrying his wife, Alice Dean. In Harlem, Rahming emerged as a political activist, organizer, and powerful public speaker during one of the most transformative periods in Black American history.

Rahming was deeply involved in the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), serving as president of its New York City chapter—the largest in the world. In this role, he worked alongside UNIA founder Marcus Garvey and radical socialist Hubert Harrison. He became widely known as a “street scholar” or “stepladder orator,” part of a generation of self-trained Black intellectuals who brought African and African American history directly to the people.

On Harlem street corners during the World War I era, Rahming delivered speeches that educated newly urbanized Black communities about African history, Pan-African philosophy, and the global dimensions of racial justice. These gatherings were often described as both the “university and the church of the streets,” spaces where working-class people could learn, question, and imagine new futures for themselves.

Rahming did not shy away from controversy or confrontation. He was an outspoken critic of police brutality and led organizing efforts in response to violent assaults against Black residents in Harlem. In 1918, he publicly mobilized the community to demand the transfer of a New York City police officer known for targeting Black residents, calling on Harlem citizens to sign petitions and demand accountability.

He also understood that the struggle for Black liberation extended beyond U.S. borders. In a 1921 pamphlet, Rahming explored how African Americans might position themselves in the event of a war between the United States and Japan, critically examining American racism, global power dynamics, and the contradictions Black Americans faced when asked to defend a nation that denied them full citizenship. He recognized the Black freedom struggle as both racial and economic—a fight against racism and exploitation alike.

Alexander Rahming remained a key voice in the UNIA until his death in 1922, at just 35 years old. Though his life was brief, his impact was profound. He used his voice to educate, organize, and challenge systems of power—leaving behind a legacy of courage, intellect, and unapologetic advocacy.

When I look at my own life—my leadership, my insistence on equity, my refusal to be silent—I see him.

This is not just family history.
It is inheritance.
It is responsibility.

I am Black History.

👉🏾 link to narrated version is in the comments.

10/15/2025

I’ve spent months lamenting the steady erasure of Black history — the quiet removal of names, stories, and truth from our collective memory. So last week, I decided to do something about it. I committed to telling these stories myself, through a new series tracing African American history from slavery through Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Movement.

I began with F***y Kemble — a white actress who married a wealthy Southern slaveholder and, through her own awakening, became a writer and abolitionist.

Today, I continue with a woman whose life sang with defiance: Hazel Scott, the piano prodigy who became both a star and a victim of McCarthyism.

Before there was Nina Simone. Before there was Aretha. Before there was Beyoncé standing boldly in her power — there was Hazel Scott.

Born in Trinidad and raised in Harlem, Hazel Scott was a musical genius who could make a piano sing like few ever could. By age eight, she was performing on the radio. By her teens, she was studying at Juilliard — admitted not because the school was ready for her, but because her brilliance made readiness irrelevant.

As an adult, Hazel Scott wasn’t just a performer; she was a woman who knew her worth. She refused to play in segregated clubs, demanded equal billing and pay with white artists, and used her art as her activism.

In the 1940s, that kind of confidence wasn’t just bold — it was revolutionary.

When Hollywood came calling, she insisted her roles reflect dignity: no “mammy,” no “maid.” She appeared as herself — elegant, intellectual, and proud — at a time when few Black women were allowed to do so on screen.

And then, she broke another barrier.

In 1950, Hazel Scott became the first Black woman in America to host her own nationally televised show — The Hazel Scott Show.
Airing on the DuMont Television Network, the program featured her performing live — unfiltered, unchained, and unapologetically herself.

For fifteen precious minutes each evening, America witnessed a sophisticated, talented Black woman commanding her space with grace and brilliance. It was a quiet revolution, beamed into living rooms across the nation.

But courage often comes at a cost.

When she spoke out against racism and testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee during the Red Scare, her career was effectively destroyed. Her groundbreaking show was cancelled. She was blacklisted, silenced, and pushed out of the very industry she helped shape.

Still, Hazel Scott never stopped playing. She never stopped speaking truth through her art.

Today, I honor Hazel Scott not just as a pianist or a singer, but as a trailblazer — a woman who refused to let others define her.

Her story is a reminder that erasure is not accidental — it’s systemic.
But memory — intentional, active remembrance — is resistance.

So, as we celebrate those who used their gifts to speak truth to power, let’s whisper her name. Then say it louder.

Hazel Scott. Pianist. Activist. Television Host. Legend.

Permission to share but not cut and paste.

—————-

Check out my blog http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog

And stay tuned for my book co-authored by Ditu Kasuyi dropping soon: The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Pathway for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive, and Lead with Legacy. Preorder list: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/order-books.html

10/10/2025

There’s no denying that Virginia’s upcoming statewide elections feature the most diverse slate of candidates in the Commonwealth’s history. On the Republican ticket, a Black woman is running for governor, an openly gay man for lieutenant governor, and a Hispanic man—born to an immigrant parent—for attorney general. The Democrats mirror this diversity: a white woman for governor, an Asian American for lieutenant governor, and a Black man for attorney general.

On the surface, this mosaic of race, gender, and background is something to celebrate. But for me, what’s even more revealing is how this year’s candidates underscore a deeper truth—diversity alone doesn’t mean shared values, empathy, or alignment with one’s own community. In fact, it highlights that no group is a monolith, and people can be walking contradictions. Especially, it seems, on the Republican side.

Let’s start at the top of the ticket with Winsome Earle-Sears, a proud Trump loyalist and far-right MAGA conservative. Her politics put her squarely at odds with nine out of ten Black women voters—meaning, quite literally, she is “not like us.” Yet, what’s even more confounding is how often she seems out of step with her own self-interest.

For all her loyalty, Donald J. Trump has yet to return the favor with an endorsement, even as Election Day draws near. Still, she champions his agenda, calling inclusive policies meant to correct inequities “cancerous.” She once declared, “Slaves did not die in the fields so that we could call ourselves victims now.”

On one hand, Sears touts herself as someone who succeeded through “faith, education, and grit—not victimhood.” On the other, her own company’s LinkedIn description read: “As a female-, veteran-, and minority-owned business, we help federal contractors meet their diversity requirements.”

It’s a paradox that would be amusing if it weren’t so hypocritical. Sears celebrates meritocracy while benefitting from programs designed to open doors for women and minorities—doors that were closed not because of lack of merit, but because of bias.

Her rhetoric hits a nerve for those of us who’ve lived it. I remember being told early in my career that I wasn’t qualified to be a receptionist—by a woman with no college degree—despite my degree from William & Mary, a post graduate certificate in banking, and experience as an assistant branch manager. When she told me the phone was very complicated and would be difficult for me to grasp, she meant to demean me. I was 23. Years later, as an executive at the same company, I saw her name cross my desk for an entry-level opening as an administrative assistant. Ten years later, she had been in the same job. When Sears dismisses the need to address workplace discrimination, it’s not theoretical—it’s personal and it goes too far.

What I find most disturbing, though, is Sears’s stance toward the LGBTQ community. She has called homosexuality an “immoral lifestyle choice,” supports banning same-sex couples from adopting, and opposes workplace protections for gay Americans. She even endorses conversion therapy—a discredited, inhumane practice that has included chemical castration, hypnosis, electroshock, and even “corrective” r**e. It is condemned by every major medical association in the U.S. and only supported by about 8% of Americans.

So on this issue, Sears is not just a minority within a minority—she’s in a moral wilderness of her own making. Even more perplexing? Her running mate for lieutenant governor, John Reid, is openly gay.

Which takes me to John Reid, who opposes his own rights. Reid, who has an African American male partner, has vowed to block constitutional amendments that would protect voting rights, reproductive rights, and marriage equality. Let’s pause on that. Only two groups in American history—women and Black people—have needed constitutional guarantees to secure their voting rights. And Reid has pledged to oppose such protections.

Even more astonishing, he opposes efforts to safeguard gay marriage. A gay man calling the protection of his own right to marry “radical” would be ironic if it weren’t tragic. It’s self-denial dressed up as political courage.

Then there’s Jason Miyares, Virginia’s Hispanic attorney general candidate. Full disclosure: I once help write legislation and Miyares was the bill’s patron. It was a bipartisan legislation that was later adopted under Governor Ralph Northam. So yes, I have been on the same page with Jason on an issue.

But today, his silence is deafening. Miyares’ mother fled communist Cuba in 1965, seeking the freedoms America promised. Yet, under current policy, Cuban asylum seekers—once treated as refugees—are now being deported in shackles. Families are torn apart. Detainees describe dehumanizing treatment in ICE facilities. And what is Miyares saying about this? Nothing. Not a statement. Not a word. Just blind loyalty to the Trump agenda.

You’d think a man whose own mother fled tyranny would have something to say about freedom, compassion, or justice. Instead, silence.

So yes, this is the most diverse ticket Virginia has ever seen. But representation without empathy is hollow. Diversity without courage is meaningless.

Sears, Reid, and Miyares remind us that diversity isn’t just about who’s on the ballot—it’s about what they stand for when the stakes are highest…when you have everything to lose. And what’s clear this election season is that being part of a community doesn’t mean you speak for it—or even understand it.

Virginia deserves leaders who represent more than just their reflection in the mirror.

Permission to share but not cut and paste.

Check out my blog http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog

And stay tuned for my book co-authored by Ditu Kasuyi dropping soon: The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Pathway for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive, and Lead with Legacy. Preorder list: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/order-books.html

09/28/2025

09/24/2025

When we see these photos—the students enduring harassment at a lunch counter, or walking into school while hate is screamed in their faces—we celebrate the courage of those harassed. We know what became of them. They endured, overcame, and succeeded.

But another question lingers: what became of the ones doing the harassing?

For me, this is not abstract history. My ancestor, Alexander Rahming, was president of the Universal Negro Improvement Association in 1919 in NYC and worked closely with the founder Marcus Garvey. In 1918, the Chicago Defender reported how he led a movement to have a New York City policeman removed for brutal assaults on Harlem’s Black residents. My cousin, Judge Johnny Johnson, fought for civil justice and won cases that integrated Miami’s Orange Bowl Stadium (1949) and Miami Springs Golf Club—despite threats to his life. Over a century later, activism runs in my veins.

Alexander Rahming and Johnny Johnson are just two of many in my family who broke barriers during Jim Crow and before the Civil Rights Movement. Their sacrifices ensured progress. I should not have to fight the same battles as my ancestors, but I am.

And yet, today, executive orders from Washington and in Virginia seek to erase slavery, Jim Crow, and racism from our history. That is not forgetting. Forgetting is passive. This is about not remembering—erasing the record so the cruelty is invisible, and the next generation never learns what really happened.

My family fought so that truth would be remembered. The question we must keep asking is not only what became of them then—but what are we becoming now, if we choose not to remember at all?

Friday was the first day of early voting. Cast your vote between now and Tuesday, Nov 4, 2025. If you are not registered to vote, it isn't too late. Did you know over 40% of eligible Black voters didn’t vote in 2024—even with Kamala Harris on the ballot? That’s worse than 2020. African American voter participation has declined steadily since 2012.

Don’t just vote—bring your family, friends, and church members with you. Every voice and every vote counts. And remember, you owe it to the ancestors who endured so you could.

Permission to share and not copy and paste
—————

Check out my blog http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog

And stay tuned for my book co-authored by Ditu Kasuyi dropping soon: The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Pathway for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive, and Lead with Legacy. Preorder list: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/order-books.html

08/26/2025

This is a quick Civics lesson. A state’s governor is the Commander in Chief of its National Guard. Governors can mobilize the Guard for efforts that are mission critical and mission aligned—such as responding to natural disasters, civil emergencies, or supporting essential state operations.

The President of the United States may request that a governor deploy their National Guard. However, unless the Guard is formally federalized, the governor maintains control over its use.

Governor Wes Moore of Maryland recently stated clearly that he will not be ordered to deploy the National Guard for purposes outside of its intended mission. He emphasized that the Guard’s role is not to serve as a standing domestic police force. He also cited his military service.

Can America become a police state or does our decentralized government prohibit it?

This issue is not abstract—it’s playing out right now. In Virginia, the Virginia National Guard (VNG) has deployed about 60 soldiers and airmen to support U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) with administrative and logistical duties statewide, beginning in late August. At this time, Guard personnel are not conducting law enforcement functions or making arrests, and they remain under the control of Governor Glenn Youngkin.

Still, the move has drawn strong criticism. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) and others have condemned the military’s involvement in domestic law enforcement activities, warning that such practices risk violating civilian rights and can serve as an intimidating show of force.

Why is this important? Because in America, a state or commonwealth can only edge toward becoming a police state if a governor is complicit in using military force against citizens at the request of the federal government.

A police state is a country where the government maintains repressive social control over the population—often using the police, secret police, or military force—to suppress dissent or opposition. Citizens in such states face severe restrictions on freedoms such as expression, communication, and movement, often under constant surveillance and a heavy police presence. North Korea, Syria are police state countries and China is often cited as one.

In a few weeks, Virginians have an important decision to make at the ballot box, and this is one of the issues that should be front of mind. Which candidate is more likely to take another step toward creating conditions of a police state Winsome Earle-Sears or Abigail Spanberger?

I’ll stop here. No political commentary from me today about one candidate vs. the other — just context for your own thoughts and opinions.

Take a quick listen to this from Wes Moore: https://www.facebook.com/reel/1062985152568243?fs=e&fs=e

Permission to share but not copy and paste.

—————

Check out my blog http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog
And stay tuned for my book co-authored by Ditu Kasuyi dropping soon: The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Pathway for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive and Lead with Legacy. Preorder list: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/order-books.html

08/23/2025

I usually give First Lady Melania Trump a pass. Not because I like her—far from it. It’s more because she has always felt foreign to me (pun very much intended).

See, I’ve admired every First Lady in my lifetime, no matter their politics. America may fumble with Presidents, but when it comes to First Ladies, we bat a clean 100% (did you catch that mixed metaphor). First Ladies consistently manage to strike that balance of warmth, relatability, diplomacy, and style. Over time, we come to know them, or at least feel like we do. We sense their loyalty to the country and their genuine love for it. Pat Nixon, Betty Ford, Rosalynn Carter, Nancy Reagan, Barbara Bush, Hillary Clinton, Laura Bush, Michelle Obama, and Jill Biden — I truly admired them all. I can relate to them on some level.

But Melania… not so much. She has always seemed more like a beautifully dressed mannequin with a rechargeable battery than a partner in national leadership. And to be honest, her image has always felt manufactured. On paper, the story should read like this: first year college dropout, full frontal naked modeling spreads—including some with another woman in bed—then an affair with a billionaire (Trump, still married to Marla at the time), an Epstein connection, and eventually a sham visa entry into America. From there, she gets signed to Trump’s own modeling agency and poses again n**e and in lingerie.

The MAGA PR machine then repackages all of that into “highly educated international supermodel.” Okay, sure.

So, I’ve never expected much from Melania beyond a few great hat moments. Which is why when I woke up yesterday and learned she penned a letter to Vladimir Putin asking him to end the war in Ukraine—a letter that Felon Trump personally delivered—I almost fell out of bed.

But here’s the thing: I already know how this story ends. Someday, the war will stop—because all wars eventually do. And when it does, the MAGA machine will crank back up and tell us it was all thanks to Melania… the woman single-handedly responsible for world peace. (Read Melania’s “letter” in the comments—but we all know she didn’t write it. This is the same woman who copy/pasted Michelle Obama’s speech and thought nobody would notice.)

Permission to share but not copy and paste.

—————

Follow me at Frankly Speaking with Adrienne P. Whitaker
Check out my blog http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog
And stay tuned for my book co-authored by Ditu Kasuyi dropping soon: The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Pathway for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive and Lead with Legacy. Preorder list: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/order-books.html

08/18/2025

SPOTLIGHT ON: Lt Col (Ret.) Jason O. Harris

Lt Col Jason O. Harris is a decorated U.S. Air Force officer, combat pilot, and motivational speaker whose career spans nearly 30 years of service and leadership. A fourth-generation military member and graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy, he completed 11 combat deployments and logged over 2,000 combat hours, experiences that shaped his philosophy on resilience, teamwork, and trust.

As a Squadron Commander and instructor at the Air Force Academy, Jason discovered that the most effective leaders do more than issue orders—they build trust. That insight led him to create his No Fail Trust® framework, a leadership model built on three principles: trust the training, trust the process, and trust the people. His message is clear: when trust runs deep, organizations experience higher engagement, stronger performance, and lower turnover.

Today, Jason brings his lessons from the cockpit to the boardroom, inspiring audiences worldwide to lead with trust and empower their teams to succeed. His thought leadership has been featured in Forbes and national media, and he has worked with leading organizations including Cisco, Caterpillar, Ford, and Lockheed-Martin.

Short Clip: https://youtu.be/DaRznWn-VgQ?si=zPs3MmrmmrZB6Q6K

08/17/2025

I came across this photo of Will and Jada Smith in my feed (caption added by me). The original post read:

“I betrayed you, cheated on you, made the world laugh at you, laugh at us, but you still stayed with me. Thank you for being a real man.” – Jada Smith

It went on: “Millions of women are celebrating Will Smith today for being a REAL MAN. Jada cheated on him with someone young enough to be his son but he forgave her, cleaned her up, and did not allow the devil to break this family.”

My first reaction? I laughed and scrolled because of course it was fake. But then I stopped and went back. What is it about these two that keeps our attention locked in—long after the marriage confessions, the “entanglements,” and the slap?

Maybe it’s because Will and Jada once represented the Hollywood marriage that was marketed to us as aspirational: Black love goals, power couple energy, the perfect family brand. And now? They’re a soap opera in real life. Too messy to be scripted, too convenient not to be content.

And ever since the slap, everything has felt like one long, awkward exercise in damage control.

Three years later, we still can’t unsee it—Will Smith strutting across the Oscars stage and doing what every Black child was raised never to do: show your whole a*z in public. At 56, there is no “comeback tour” waiting for him. Hollywood has younger talent—Michael B. Jordan, Donald Glover, Aldis Hodge, Regé-Jean Page, Aaron Pierre—ready to fill the roles he once dominated. His prime is past, and his image too tarnished to slide into the “distinguished older lead.” Instead, his recent antics read like midlife crisis, not reinvention.

And Jada? Let’s be honest: she is no “ride or die.” She’s in survival mode—protecting her interests, her kids, her mom. If holding up a front for Will helps, she’ll do it. But loyalty? That left the building years ago.

The one thing we do know? Will’s been divorced before, which means there’s almost certainly a prenup at play. And for those who remember Jada back in the day—she wasn’t Hollywood chic. She was ATL. About that life. And it shows.

At the end of the day, we don’t actually know them. What we know is what they choose to feed us—and they’ve chosen to turn private pain into public content. Whether we laugh, roll our eyes, or scroll past…we still look.

Because Will and Jada don’t just live in Calabasas. They live rent-free in the culture.

Permission to share but not copy and paste.

—————

Check out my blog http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog
And stay tuned for my book co-authored by Ditu Kasuyi dropping soon: The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Pathway for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive and Lead with Legacy. Preorder list: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/order-books.html

08/10/2025

I have never lived in an America where my right to vote wasn’t protected. That’s because generations before me fought—and won—that fight. But now, Trump and his allies are working to undo it, quietly dismantling protections while distracting us with political theater and pop culture noise.

At the heart of “Make America Great Again” is a clear goal: to roll back the progress Black and brown communities have made in every corner of American life—including at the ballot box.

The Voting Rights Act of 1965, born from the sacrifices of the Civil Rights Movement, prohibits racial discrimination in voting. For decades, private citizens—not the government—have been the primary defenders of its protections, bringing over 90% of lawsuits under Section 2. Without that right to sue, the law becomes a shell.

But here’s the danger: the Supreme Court has already weakened the Act, the Eighth Circuit has ruled that voters can’t sue under Section 2, and proposals like “Project 2025” could make it even harder to challenge discrimination. The 2013 Shelby County v. Holder decision gutted preclearance requirements, giving states with histories of discrimination free rein to pass restrictive voting laws.

This isn’t just legal maneuvering—it’s a direct attempt to strip away the most fundamental tool we have to shape our future: the vote.

That’s why Ditu Kasuyi and I co-authored The Excellence Blueprint: A Strategic Blueprint for African American Leaders to Rise, Thrive, and Lead with Legacy. We didn’t plan to write this book—we had to. It’s for anyone who wants to lead with purpose, but it speaks directly to the African American community about protecting and advancing the gains that so many fought for. Later this month, we are launching the marketing campaign for the book. People will be able to join the mailing list for the book and also get resources, tools and access to our seminars and workshops ties to this work.

Sixty years ago, the Civil Rights Movement united people across race and background to fight for what was right. We need that unity again—because history is knocking, and this time, it’s trying to take back the vote.

Check out my blog: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog

Permission to share but not copy and paste,