We Can Build Our Own
On being an entrepreneur, trying to hear from God, and the work of the church.
Over half a million Black men have lost their jobs in the last year or so. You would be forgiven for not knowing that. While there’s an endless chorus about the number of Black women who have faced unemployment since the Trump 2.0 (it’s about 300,000), there’s next to no mention of that for people like me. Perhaps we’d be better off and able to collectively fight the powers oppressing all of us if everything stopped being a gender war. But this isn’t about that.
I started my business in 2017 on a whim. I would love to cast my story as this fairytale American dream march of epic proportions, but the reality is that when I launched it, I simply couldn’t find a job. There were people to help take care of financially and the student loan payments were about to start coming due. I needed to make something shake. I brought a domain name, created an email address, and sent a message to every professional contact I had ever met. Two months later, I had a full book of clients. And the rest is the rest.
Nearly a decade later, I am still somehow here. While I’ve dabbled into W2 jobs here and there, I never allow myself to shut down my own business ventures. There’s a certain cadence to getting work done when you know invoices getting filled is reliant on you making the connections, doing the follow-up, submitting the deliverable, etc. Bulking back up to that muscle once you’ve allowed yourself to stop training as hard is increasingly difficult, so I simply never stop. I respect people who find stability in W2 jobs, I just can’t say I’ve ever experienced that. In every corporate or hierarchical setting (except maybe one, shoutout to Rachel Haltom-Irwin, Jonae Wartel and Naoko Kudo) it has always occurred to me that because of who I am, what I believe, what I look like, and how I intend on carrying myself, I am always more susceptible to being let go. I don’t let the illusion of corporate familial speak fool me.
I am useful to individuals or entities as long as they deem me useful to them, and said determination can change at the drop of a dime. When I realized this, and thus, started treating jobs and clients with the same level of treatment unless/until they proved to relate otherwise, not only did my quality of life get better, but my financial situation did too. It’s a shame, really, but this isn’t about that either.
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It’s been two years since I’ve had any income other than that which I have generated on my own, and while the small business/entrepreneur lane has many challenges (I will not tell you how much I pay for healthcare every month. You will vomit) there is also an undeniable freedom. Pros and cons for everything.
My most recent down time in terms of client work afforded me the opportunity to think more deeply about what I want, what I am feeling called to, and what I ultimately want to do with my life. Working with political candidates and organizations is cool, and so too is helping small businesses and non-profits get off their feet, get their ducks in a row, and start building some development wings, but it is certainly not what I want to do for the rest of my working life.
Alas, between paying the bills, recruiting and getting rid of clients, and trying to finish a master’s program with some fidelity, the future has emerged with far more clarity than before. I believe the systems, institutions, and support organizations we need in our communities can be met directly by churches and other places of worship. Ultimately, the hard, silent, and often thankless work of building such things is what will help get us all free. In many ways, I see it, along with my commitment to rejecting our traditional notions of gender roles, loving my brothers and sisters regardless of who they love, and continuing to tell many stories, is my offering to the ancestors who have come before me and to the ones who I will one day be an ancestor unto.
Part of that future is doing some incredibly dope work with one of the most amazing people I know, Kayela Horn. Why would she consider doing anything of substance with me? You’d have to ask her that. For over a year, we joked about starting a church together. Now, it’s a slowly becoming a reality. I am equally excited and terrified, and I simply hope that the Lord blesses it.
The following is a conversation Kayela and I had not too long ago, about several invasive questions I asked. It is edited slightly for cohesion and clarity. You’ll be hearing her voice a lot more here, so I hope you’ll come to know, cherish, and appreciate hers just as much if not more than mine.
Fred: Okay, the age old question that everyone absolutely loves. (Although I’m not sure it’s even a question, but whatever)… tell us about yourself!
Kayela: I hate this question with a passion! I’m human. I’m a mess. I’m constantly overstimulated and doing my best to function in a world that always feels like it’s too loud and too much. My faith is what gives me hope. I really love Jesus, and as a lover of books (all genres), the Bible never misses! I am a multi-racial woman who never feels like I fit, but who always tries to make sure others don’t feel the same. I love connecting people. I’m the person who knows a person someone else should know. Building healthy communities and safe spaces will forever be my passion. Books are my happy place, music (almost all genres) grounds me, and there is no problem that can’t be solved by dancing it out.
I’m also a Pastor, the kind who leans heavily into loving my neighbor and seeking justice. I have a heart for sharing the Gospel and finding ways to make it accessible to all people. Discipleship, formation, and keeping the church connected to the community are the areas of ministry I feel called to. When it comes to my faith, I strive to be known by my love. I want my love to be reflected in every area of my life. How I show up for my family, serve my church, advocate for the oppressed, and how I choose to use my voice to create space for others.
Fred: I can attest to you to being the connector, and have been fortunate enough to be brought into community with some beautiful people by way of you simply offering an invitation. It’s some gospel-oriented work, and I am thankful for it.
We met at a time in my life where things were less than grounded. Some of that was personal, but some of it was part of a split I was having with fundamental evangelicalism too. I had long stopped believing a lot of the non-sense I used to believe. (I now know that being queer is not a sin. Women do belong in leadership. On and on). There are long term political, social, economic, and religious consequences to evangelicalisms embrace of Donald trump. What do you think are the deepest and most complex wounds the church and our political institutions will need to address? And how do we go about the work of reconciliation while still trying to survive this administration?
Kayela: I think the most complex wounds the church and society will continue to face over the next few years will be the trauma (spiritual, mental, and physical) that people have experienced over the last several years. I would take this all the way back to the 2016 presidential election and on through COVID, the aftermath of the 2020 election, and on through the tyranny we are watching unfold today.
Since 2016, our country has become accustomed to highly divisive and degrading rhetoric. Those with whom we don’t agree are now enemies and threats, not people with different perspectives and ideals. We listen as Christians and political leaders use this same harmful rhetoric, and we watch as the world is seemingly falling apart at the seams because of it. This same rhetoric has emboldened people to kneel on the neck of men crying out for their mother as the world watches them take their last breath. It is the same rhetoric that has emboldened officers to racially profile and detain black and brown bodies, pulling people out of cars, schools, and courtrooms to send them back to their “shit-hole” countries. This same rhetoric is being used in pulpits on Sunday’s as talking points to weaponize faith against people who are deemed as “other” and the trauma that is being experienced by all of this will not be fixed overnight.
I hold the divisive and degrading language responsible for the violence we are seeing in our world, because I believe that our words have power. This belief doesn’t come from lived experience alone, but also through Scripture. Proverbs 12:18 and 15:1 tell us of the power of reckless words; Ephesians 4:29 reminds us of the type of language expected of us; and the Book of James reminds us, over and over again, that “human anger does not produce God’s righteousness” (1:20). Our inability to tame our tongues, to speak life, to use our voices to care for those who struggle to care for themselves; it has created a society where violence and trauma run rampant and are celebrated. People are hurting, harmed, beaten, detained, and isolated, and repairing the harm done will not be easy.
The work of reconciliation won’t come easy, and if I’m honest, I do not believe many present-day leaders want to work towards it. So, those of us committed to this work have to create safe spaces where people can simply exist. We have to reconsider what it looks like to bring back the Hush Harbors of the antebellum South, so people can grieve, worship, and seek God’s face in a safe space. We (clergy) have to get outside of our buildings and go to the people. Churches are no longer considered the sanctuaries they once were. I’m talking about going back to the Philip days, where we go where God says go and encounter the Eunuch in their element, sharing the Gospel, walking alongside, and allowing the oppressed to name their needs so we can do our best to meet them. Reconciliation will require us to talk less, listen more, and to give voice to the voiceless. Scripture tells us what is required; we simply have to return to being a people willing to do humble, quiet work.
Fred: Humble, quiet work should be written in stone. Matter fact, that might be one of my next tattoos. Humble and quiet are not often words associated with American leaders, at least not the ones we have now. As you know, America is turning 250 years old. Forget the racial nuances embedded in the American experiment for a second. What does America 250 conjure up for you? How does it make you feel? What would say to Christians who struggle to reconcile the American Christianity of today with what they see as the early church in the Bible?
Kayela: I have been wrestling with my feelings about the 250th celebration of our country. In having this conversation with loved ones, co-workers, and friends, I have found it challenging to do so without others needing me to name my understanding of the level of privilege I have been able to obtain as a multi-racial woman in America. It’s as if we are unable to name the harm this country has long bestowed on black and brown people without first saying thank you for the “privilege” we have fought, bled, and prayed for.
So yes, there is always a degree of gratitude, but I am also angry and sad and have no interest in celebrating a country that was built on the backs and bodies of stolen and massacred peoples. Our country has never lived up to the ideals we upheld. We came to this land and massacred the indigenous people. We stole their land, called it our own, and then stole Africans from their home to use their free labor to build the nation. We wrote our Constitution and our Declaration of Independence while hundreds of thousands of black people were enslaved. These men and women were not even considered fully human (Three-Fifths Compromise). People who looked like us were not included in the founding of our Nation, and yet we are supposed to have a posture of gratitude and elation as we celebrate our founding.
At the dawn of the Jim Crow era, we erected the Statue of Liberty, with the quote “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” etched at its pedestal. Yet, our Black, Indigenous, and Asian citizens were tired, poor, and yearning to be free. We didn’t offer comfort or seek justice for them; we continued to put them in camps, redlined communities, and treated them as if they were not welcome in the country. And…if we talk about our history, we are told that we’ve come a long way from that, and we should be grateful for where we are today.
Today, we have rolled back voters’ rights, flipped Supreme Court rulings, removed DEI in all its forms, essentially banned the celebration of any oppressed groups, whitewashed how history can be taught in our public schools, banned books, and reinstated slave catchers (ICE). I’m sure I have missed something, but the point of naming these things is to take a step back and consider who this country is and what we are allowing it to return to. We have never reconciled our past, and people want us to celebrate the fact that I can own a home and worship freely in my present… (keeping in mind that our Department of Defense has dropped roughly 180 recognized religious affiliations).
With all this in mind, what do I say to Christians who struggle to reconcile American Christianity with what they see as the early church in the Bible? I say Christianity is not American, and the “early church” we see Jesus begin to establish in scripture was never in partnership with a nation or empire. I say that my hope is not rooted in nation, political power, or cultural dominance; it is found in God and God alone. We don’t have to celebrate the power of a Nation that has never cared for the oppressed when we can celebrate a God who is near to the broken-hearted and sits with the oppressed. There is nothing to reconcile. What we see today is not a reflection of the beautiful moment of Pentecost. It’s okay to be grateful for every ounce of privilege you have wrung from AmeriKKKa, while not feeling the need to celebrate surviving in a country that has only wanted our bodies and not our humanity.
Fred: Wow. Well said. All facts. Amen.
Alright, let’s lighten the mood up a bit here. LOL. I say this all the time, and you may not believe it, but you are one of the smartest, most intellectual, most analytical people everyone who has the privilege of knowing you knows. Where did your initial curiosity about the world come from? And how has that curiosity lent itself to a prolonged and ever evolving imagination?
Kayela: This question is hilarious! I am always shocked when people name me as incredibly smart. I am the middle sister to brothers who are naturally and incredibly smart. I think what people name in me stems from my desire to try to keep up with my big brother. He didn’t have to work for his genius, and I had to fight for mine. He was/is my best friend, and if I want to hold a meaningful conversation with him, I have to be smart enough to keep up. My little brother is the same way, and as a true middle child, I just couldn’t let him surpass me. So, I read things I had no interest in reading, simply because I knew they would know something I didn’t.
I also mean this with my whole chest; the library raised me. I was raised by a mother who had us reading classic literature, poetry, and everything in between from the time we could read (before kindergarten). My love for books stems from their ability to help us learn and experience things we might otherwise never get to. I grew up poor. We didn’t travel much as a family, but I read books that taught me all about cultures and places I’d never experienced. I learned to be curious because literature forced me to be. Books, at least the type of books I prefer to read, don’t give us answers. They give us perspectives and experiences that we are left to wrestle with. I finish a book, fiction or non-fiction, and find myself asking lots of questions, some I feel like can be answered, and way more that I cannot.
Curiosity, for me, is the best place to sit, especially when taking in knowledge. Having all the answers means there is nothing left to learn, but there is always something to learn: a perspective that hasn’t been considered and a story that has yet to be shared.
Fred: That’s a good word. It’s also a scary word, in some ways, because we both know what places like the library and bookstores did for us, and how having access to so many different ideas, stories, and characters literally helped shape our worlds and our outlooks on life, and all of this under attack now. So, I appreciate you highlighting that. It’s a reminder that while the State may try to sanction what is available to our kids in their schools, we are the ultimate arbiters of what our Black and Brown babies consume, and how they grow up to view, interpret, and cherish the world.
I’m still shocked you find as much time to read for leisure as you do. You wear so many hats and, at least from this vantage point, wear them all incredibly well. Why lend your most precious time and insight to Relentless?
Kayela: While you have said such kind things about me, I have also done the same toward you. You are brilliant and are by far one of the most prolific writers I know. One of the many joys of (Dr.) APY’s class was getting to read and be in conversation with our classmates’ writings. I began to realize that my hot takes were never too far from yours. My desire to consistently bring a conversation back to people over empire was consistently supported by you. We don’t agree on everything, your sports teams suck, but when it comes to theology and ideology, we tend to speak the same language. It only makes sense to team up with someone who is committed to the work of the church and, overall, gives a darn about our world. I believe that there is a lot of great work we can do for the church and humanity individually, but I’m curious to see what we can do when we collaborate.
Fred: Thank you thank you thank you, you’re far too kind! And your NFL team hasn’t played for a conference championship in over 30 years, just saying, Go RAVENS!
Speaking of football, it’s July, which means it’s basically August, which means it’s basically football season. For me, until I learned how to appreciate all aspects of life (this was very recently) summer was merely a countdown to football. Now, I find as much beauty in it as I do in February). What’s your favorite thing about summer?
Kayela: My favorite part of summer is sunshine and warm weather. I have spent the last several months joking that I am basically a plant (my people and I have decided I’m a peace lily). I require warm weather, lots of sunshine, and consistent watering; otherwise, I’m droopy. I spend as much time as I can outdoors during the summer. I love to spend time reading a book in my hammock or poolside at a friend’s. If I’m not doing that, I ‘m working on the back patio of one of my favorite coffee shops, trying to sneak in a hike, or finding new ways to be on someone’s patio (anywhere outdoors).
Fred: Got you. So, we’re starting this church in Phoenix then???
Kayela: I mean, I’m excited to see what God does and where God decides to do it! I think we keep actively pursuing our call, we continue to collaborate, and we trust that God will figure out the details! I just hope that whatever is figured out includes somewhere warm.
Fred: Thanks be to God!
Real Faith Chronicles
Kayela and I meet weekly to work through the practical machinations of church planting, like ideating on structure, working on bylaws, gathering and managing a core team, filling out paperwork with the IRS, etc. After those tantalizing conversations, however, we typically sit for a half hour or so, find a topic to home in on, and simply…. talk. They have slowly turned into the highlight of my week, and I am grateful to have someone who is able to edify when appropriate yet challenge when needed. It’s a blessing.
We’re intentionally, for now at least, calling these ‘In Conversation’ and not labeling it a podcast. Semantics, of course, but we don’t desire to do the whole algorithm gaming thing, nor will the production value be sky-high. It’s two people who believe in the power of Jesus and the notions of justice and freedom he so often expressed, coming together to talk about pressing issues in our world, and how our lives and work may be able to help slowly start to fix them. We are going to put these conversations behind a paywall, so we hope you will support. Paid subscriptions not only go towards expanding this publication, but funding the expensive work of launching a loving, affirming, and inclusive church plant.
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