CHAPTER 4 — MY TRIBE… MY VILLAGE

The Difference Between a Tribe and a Village

A tribe is who you’re born into.

A village is who God sends to protect you.

A tribe gives you your name.

A village gives you your future.

A tribe sees your circumstances.

A village sees your potential.

I didn’t grow up surrounded by millionaire mentors or business leaders. I grew up surrounded by women with spiritual x-ray vision — women who recognized value in kids the world overlooked.

These weren’t corporate executives. These weren’t motivational speakers. These weren’t life coaches.

These were praying women, working women, fighting women, faithful women, tired women who refused to give up on children who weren’t even theirs.

And if I am anything today, it’s because a few of them would not let me fall.

The Women Who Saw Greatness Before I Did

When you’re young, you don’t see destiny — you only see dysfunction.

You see food stamps. Overdue notices. Family arguments.

Struggle layered on struggle.

You don’t look in the mirror and see greatness. You see survival.

But these women… they saw more.

They saw who I could become. They saw leadership before I had discipline. They saw intelligence before I had direction. They saw purpose before I understood God.

“How you gonna win when you ain’t right within?”

Lauryn Hill asked that question. These women helped me get “right within” long before I had the language for healing.

Sister Walters — The One Who Changed Everything

There are many people in a lifetime, but very few who mark you permanently. For me, that was Sister Walters.

She wasn’t wealthy. She wasn’t powerful. She wasn’t famous. But she was anointed.

Every time she hugged me, every time she rocked me, every time she whispered, “God has a plan for you” — she planted something in me that hardship couldn’t dig up and time couldn’t decay.

She never lectured. She spoke life. Not to the boy I was, but to the man I would become.

And the crazy part? I didn’t even realize how much she shaped me until the day I saw her for the last time.

The Hospital Room

COVID was raging. Fear was everywhere. People were dying alone.

And then I walked into a hospital room to see the woman who had seen me when nobody else could.

She was weak. Breathing slow. Body failing. Spirit steady. Even with one foot in eternity, she still asked about me.

She wanted to know:

• “Are you alright?”
• “Are you pushing?”
• “Are you staying focused?”
• “Are you listening for God?”

Imagine that. A woman taking her last breaths still pouring out encouragement like she didn’t know what it meant to stop.

“To live is to suffer, but to survive… well, that’s to find meaning in the suffering.”

Biggie said that. She lived that line. Even in death, she was sowing into my life.

I walked out of that hospital room with something I didn’t have before: obligation. Calling. Responsibility. Legacy.

I had to become the man she saw — because she didn’t waste her prayers.

The Village God Built Around Me

Sister Walters wasn’t the only one. There were others — quiet warriors, unpaid mentors, unofficial protectors who kept me from falling into traps waiting for young Black men with no guidance.

They saw the anger I hid. They saw the talent I didn’t understand. They saw the potential buried under pressure.

They lifted me when I couldn’t lift myself. They covered me when I didn’t know I needed covering. They prayed me out of situations I didn’t realize were deadly.

“Who gonna lift me when I’m down?”

My village did. Every time.

The Roles of a Village

In every strong village, different roles show up:

• The encourager gives you confidence when life gets loud.
• The corrector gives you truth when ego takes over.
• The connector opens doors you didn’t know existed.
• The teacher gives you wisdom you don’t deserve yet.
• The protector keeps you from mistakes that could follow you for life.
• The dreamer reminds you the story isn’t finished yet.

Some people play more than one role. Some show up for a season. Some show up for a lifetime.

When you are young, these roles feel random. When you grow up, you realize God curated each one perfectly.

The Other Side of Tribe

A village can heal you — but a tribe can also wound you. Some kids grow up surrounded by voices that break identity instead of building it. That’s why environment matters.

A young man doesn’t just need correction — he needs covering. He needs someone rebuilding his inner story, not just policing his behavior.

Identity requires safety before strategy.

Healing must precede ambition.

The Power of Being Seen

People talk a lot about success — about money, discipline, hustle, and strategy. But before any of that matters, a young man needs someone who believes in him.

Someone who sees beyond the grades, the mistakes, the attitude, the environment, the rumors, the circumstances, the fear.

My village saw me — the real me — before I ever saw myself. And that’s why I can write this book.

You don’t build greatness alone. Even the strongest men were carried at their weakest moment by somebody who believed in them.

Every destiny requires covering. Every leader needs a lift. Every prophet had a village before they had a platform.

You can walk alone — but you cannot become great alone.

This chapter isn’t just a tribute — it’s a truth. Every man becomes something greater because someone invested in him when he was less.

My village kept me alive long enough for purpose to find me. But purpose alone isn’t enough.

To rise, you must undergo a transformation — a shedding, a breaking, a rebuilding. That leads directly into the next chapter…