Jameel Gordon 1/22/25 Jameel Gordon 1/22/25

Think Global

Here’s a harsh lesson from the class rooms of cultural humility: When it comes to grassroots movements…not all grass are created equal.

I learned this lesson while studying horticulture during an 18-month waiting period for an unjust system to self-correct. It eventually did—it took 18 months—but it corrected itself because not all grass are created equal.

So do not lecture me about diversity, equity, and inclusion. Do not lecture me about justice. Do not lecture me about critical race theory. Do not lecture me about my constitutional rights. My entire life has been an embodiment of everything you all stand for in theory.

For those asking what’s next—I’m not sure what to tell you. As for me and my house, we’re GLOBAL. Stay tuned. We’re a movement. We’re not a monument begging for mercy. WTF is wrong with you! Anyways…stay tuned. 🤫🏁🥂

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Jameel Gordon 1/21/25 Jameel Gordon 1/21/25

The Blueprint? Yes. Two.

"I see,” I said, "jealousy" I said

"Got the whole industry mad at me," I said

Then B.I. said, "Hov, remind yourself:

Nobody built like you, you designed yourself!"

"I agree," I said, "my one of a kind self get

stoned every day like Jesus did.”

"What he said," I said, "has been said before"

"Just keep doin your thing," he said; "say no more".

- Jay-Z

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Jameel Gordon 1/21/25 Jameel Gordon 1/21/25

The Gift + The Curse

One of my greatest gifts—and perhaps my most enduring curse—is my unwavering willingness to walk away from it all.

At any moment, I am ready to leave, to untether myself from the life I’ve built and the structures I’ve nurtured. This isn’t recklessness; it’s a commitment to freedom—a life unshackled by obligation, routine, or even success. For as long as I can remember, nothing in my life has ever stood on equal footing with my freedom. Nothing.

How I like to explain it is that I go through seasons—particularly after moments of success—when I place everything on the altar. I want to be careful with my language here, so hopefully, those of us who are a little more mature will understand my meaning. I place it all on the altar, and when I’m done, I see what remains. Whatever survives, that is what I take with me. Whether I leave the mountaintop, the valley, or the hills—wherever I find myself—I only leave with what has endured my sacrifice.

It’s a strange gift to carry, this readiness to walk away. It brings clarity, but it also creates distance. When you’re always prepared to let go, the bonds you form—whether to people, projects, or passions—change. Everything must adjust to the decisions I make. It’s not that I love less, or that I dislike something or someone, but I simply refuse to be chained to anything, even the things I love most, if they no longer serve us or bring us joy.

And yet, in this life of mine, I’ve built so much. Oaks & Oars, for instance, stands as a testament to my most recent vision: a shared learning environment that brings together sustainability, technology, and joy. It was born out of my deepest values, shaped by my passions, and carried forward by my belief in what could be. It was always more than a project—it was everything I held sacred in this season of life.

It was a way of reimagining a world paralyzed by the complexity of climate change, the lofty but often unattainable goals of nations, and the political bottlenecks that render meaningful progress nearly impossible. Oaks & Oars resolved the seemingly impossible by addressing the marketing problem, the market problem, and by offering a tool to bridge the gap—a tool I designed in another season of life when I confronted the enormous challenges faced by computer scientists and sought a solution to their problem.

But as I often say, even success can become a prison.

I find myself now facing a hard decision. I think my work here may actually be done. The vision feels realized—the roots are deep, and the sails have caught the wind. And yet, I can’t ignore the whisper within me: It’s time to walk away. It’s time to step back, to release my grip, to leave the vision to others, and to trust that the seeds I’ve planted will flourish without me.

But what’s on the other side? That’s the question that keeps me tethered for now. I’m not afraid of the unknown—it’s a space I know well, one I’ve always been willing to embrace. But walking away means confronting my existence, my purpose, and my freedom all over again, with no guarantees or assurances. It means asking myself: What do I do with my freedom?

Perhaps this is what freedom truly is—the ability to leave without needing to know what’s next. To trust that the act of walking away will create its own clarity.

I don’t have an answer yet. I don’t know if I will walk away or what decision I’ll ultimately make. But I know this: I’ll keep you posted.

For now, I remain here, with everything on the altar. Waiting. And when the moment comes, I’ll know what to do with what remains. I always do.

Freedom demands it.

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Jameel Gordon 1/20/25 Jameel Gordon 1/20/25

The Weight of Nothing

If there is one thing that has proven true over and over in my life, it’s the reality that we can plant the seed and water it, but we have no control over how it grows—if it grows at all.

Of course, there are basic truths embedded in this statement. For instance, we can plant the seed and we can water it. We can ensure there’s adequate sunlight or sufficient shade—whatever is needed to foster growth. But beyond that, we have no control over how the seed grows. This same principle applies to our children. We control what we can, and the rest just happens. In terms of humanity, the rest is simply called life. Life happens to us all.

Our lives as humans are what make us uniquely human. Our humanity is most meaningful when our lives enhance our humanity, not when they diminish it.

As we experience life and grow—not just in the physical sense, but as we evolve as humans—it’s natural that we’ll face moments when we want to shrink, give up, or quit. Life will happen.

These experiences, along with everything we feel along the way, are a part of life. They are part of our individual lives and our collective experience as humans. They are part of our shared story, our history. If there is one constant in this life of ours, it’s that life happens, my friends. My argument here is simple: always choose your humanity. Always choose our collective humanity—even when it makes no sense. Even when you see the cards that others have chosen for themselves, we, my friends, must always choose our humanity. We will always choose it because, whether some of us would like to admit it or not, no matter how we choose to identify, at the end of the day, we are all human.

I believe nothing in our current paradigm has a greater potential to draw us closer together in our collective humanity than the development of artificial intelligence. Religion, economics, political systems, and philosophies have not accomplished this thus far in our human history. Artificial intelligence is different, and I say this cautiously and optimistically because it will all come down to how it’s developed, deployed, and utilized. While I acknowledge its awareness and consciousness as some sort of species, I hesitate to fully accept it as such because of its limitations. However, it is a remarkable advancement, and it will reveal much more about our humanity.

I share all this to say that one thing will remain constant and predictable, both now and in the future: life will happen to us all because we are human, and life unfolds regardless of our individual or collective choices. I will always choose life, and I will always choose our collective humanity. I will always speak for myself, as I am doing here, in this moment. There is no guilt, no regret, no pride, no loneliness, no ambition—nothing heavy that needs to be labeled or packaged as something we unload in jars and sell in mysterious nonprofit shops that profit off the weight of such “nothingness.”

Life happens to us all on this weightless rock we find ourselves floating on, my friends. It’s a weightless rock.

The weight of nothing doesn’t change, my friends! Absolutely nothing changes, but life will always happen and WDGAF! 🏁

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Jameel Gordon 1/16/25 Jameel Gordon 1/16/25

Dear Middle Class

Here’s a reality check: we, the people, can no longer afford the illusion of programs and services that exist primarily to sustain your lifestyle. At this point, many of these systems are operated in unsustainable ways simply to keep you employed. I understand the difficult decisions you face daily. You’re content—I get it. You want to feel safe, enjoy a good night’s sleep, and wake up with food on your plate and your children’s plates. You want them to be happy and secure as they head off to schools funded by our collective efforts.

Your hope is that once in school, they’ll be safe, cared for, and maybe even learn some basic knowledge. After all, you want them to grow up and live the same life you do—a life that guarantees your long-term safety and security. But the reality is, they’re there because you have to work to sustain this life. The teachers instructing your kids are there not only to educate them but also to keep their own jobs. We hope they’re great teachers who care deeply about your children’s futures. Sometimes they are—but let’s face it, many are simply paying their dues.

You work your 9-to-5 job, even though this schedule barely accommodates your children’s needs. Still, you push through. If you’re lucky, you might even enjoy working with your colleagues in a workplace that feels like family. If not, you grit your teeth and keep going, providing the services that keep your communities running. The schools, daycare centers, hospitals, pet stores, gyms, grocery stores, and retail shops—all exist to ensure you can maintain your “perfect” life.

The fire departments, police forces, and government agencies exist to protect you, your assets, and your vision of a fairy-tale life. But let’s be honest: this life is expensive, and the systems that sustain it are unsustainable.

It’s not that you don’t care; it’s that you’re committed to this setup. You don’t want to be poor, and you certainly don’t want handouts—that’s not what you’re about. After all, you’re the middle class. You work hard for what you have and don’t ask for much. You’re content with just enough to get by.

For those who are fortunate, you get to pick up your kids or meet them at home for dinner. You check in, make sure they’re safe, and ensure everything is in place to do it all over again tomorrow. From Monday to Friday, you repeat the routine, looking forward to the weekend—a time to rest, run errands, and connect with loved ones. Many of you even drag yourselves to worship on Sunday, praying to a higher power for strength and provision to push through another week. You want safety, stability, and the peace of a good night’s rest, free of worry for you and your loved ones.

But here’s the hard truth: your simple life isn’t simple. It costs an extraordinary amount of money, resources, and lives to maintain it all. The extent to which you push governments and leaders to sustain this lifestyle is not sustainable. I’m sorry to break it to you.

We’re not suggesting you become influencers or tech superstars—those are just jobs in this same unsustainable system. The fact is, many jobs, including yours, are becoming redundant in a world increasingly driven by artificial intelligence.

I understand it’s hard to imagine a future without the comfort of your current security. Your jobs, and the jobs of your leaders, feel indispensable to this system. God forbid we return to a time when people had to provide their own safety and provisions. But let’s not fall into the trap of romanticizing the past, either. We’re here because we sought freedom from tyranny and injustice, and a future built on peace and security.

So let’s take a moment, as a global collective, to imagine what a truly sustainable future might look like. The truth is, there’s only one option: we need to fundamentally rethink how we live. Turning off the internet might be the first step, but let’s be honest—that’s not going to happen. How else would your governments monitor what’s happening allllllllllllllll….around the world?

The choice is yours. Keep pushing your governments to unsustainable limits to support your middle-class existence, or start imagining something different. Because the way things stand, you can’t afford it—not financially, not environmentally, and not ethically.

I doubt you’ll read this immediately because you’re busy preparing for work again. But maybe you’ll catch up on it in your group chats during the day. After all, are you really working? Probably not.

🏁

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Jameel Gordon 1/15/25 Jameel Gordon 1/15/25

The Crossroads of Freedom And Division

I’m going to try to get this off my chest, so apologies in advance for any oversimplification. Watching what Republicans are attempting to do with changes to civil rights—particularly as it pertains to trans rights—is troubling. Trans rights are an easy target for them because they believe they can garner broader support from other groups, such as women, minorities, and perhaps even certain segments of the LGBTQ+ community (though I’m not entirely sure about the latter). Regardless, this is a clear signal of their broader agenda to turn back the clock under the guise of “making America great again.”

Now, hear me out. On the surface, I understand the concerns being raised—such as the fear of a trans woman competing in an all-girls sports league. However, it’s clear to many of us that this issue is merely a launching pad, leveraging the emotions, thoughts, and fears of some to pursue deeper, more regressive objectives.

So, what does this actually look like for them? Are we talking about segregation once again? And if so, as a society, do we even care? Has integration been pleasant for any of us, given the constant battles for our rights? If certain groups want to separate themselves from others, why not let them? But again, segregation is only a layer just beneath the surface of this issue.

Throughout history, societies have never been truly segregated. Humanity has always either integrated or attempted to integrate, and that struggle has been the source of much of our conflict. The truth is, this entire movement is being driven by religious ideologies—fearful of those who are able to live freely, without guilt or shame, in defiance of religiously prescribed “sins” or moral instructions.

If this is their choice and their action, then my thought is: let them. We can always build something new—something better—and find peace and harmony in their absence.

As I said in my post yesterday, let me be clear: like Rome is said to have declared to Hannibal, “Freedom or war—the choice is yours.” The truth is, it makes no difference to us. Or at least, it shouldn’t. Their fears are unwarranted. It will be interesting, to say the least, to see how all this unfolds.

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Jameel Gordon 1/14/25 Jameel Gordon 1/14/25

Corporate Criminology

Let’s be honest with ourselves: we, as individuals, are born into organized groups. Whether functional or dysfunctional, families are organized groups. For many, particularly those in rural or suburban areas, extended families form another layer of organization. Beyond that, our communities, districts, provinces, states, countries, and all the spaces in between, above, or below are nothing more than organized groups of people. Sometimes we dress them up with fancy names—corporations, bylaws, constitutions—but at their core, they’re all collections of individuals banded together.

Even those who are born outside of traditional family structures—children who don’t know their parents—are still brought into organized systems, whether through state-run institutions, foster care, or the networks of strangers within churches, mosques, synagogues, or even cults. One way or another, humans find themselves woven into groups.

Some groups are impossible to miss. They wave their flags proudly, basking in visibility. Others are harder to identify—operating in shadows, often labeled as secret societies. But for those of us with a discerning eye, the façade of these organized structures is transparent. Let’s face it: this world is one colossal Ponzi scheme. So, let the games I was born into continue.

I’m not claiming an “[insert whutever] vs. everybody” mindset, as if I were some walking slogan emblazoned on a T-shirt. What I am saying is this: I am a sovereign individual, even amidst your member states, your institutions, and every organized group I encounter as a social being.

If you wish, we can continue playing these games of construction. That’s fine, because if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s dismantling and reconstructing frameworks and competencies.

But let me be clear, like Rome supposedly said to Hannibal: “Freedom or war—the choice is yours.” The truth is, it makes no difference to me. (And yes, that’s a paraphrase—because I wasn’t there to hear it myself, and history belongs to those with the privilege to tell it.)

Now, go run and tell that.

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Jameel Gordon 12/28/24 Jameel Gordon 12/28/24

Yes, I Am Black.

In many of the spaces I’ve entered to be part of a community, one of the first things people attempt to adjust in order to shape my reality is their definition of my blackness. It’s as if my melanated skin alone does not serve as a sufficient identifier. I can only speak to this from my viewpoint as an American. I haven’t spent enough time in spaces outside the U.S. to observe this phenomenon at play elsewhere.

Being born and spending my early childhood in Jamaica, there wasn’t much emphasis on my blackness. Yes, Jamaica is a predominantly Black country, with Black people occupying leadership roles at all levels—a reality that has existed since my birth. Jamaica is also a prideful nation, particularly in its celebration of independence from colonial powers and the British monarchy. At the time of my birth, Jamaica was still tied to those powers in many ways, despite its independence. Over time, as Jamaica further developed as a nation, it also intertwined itself with global entities like the IMF and World Bank. Yet within the country, there was always a cultural consciousness and awareness. We knew we were Black—that was simply a fact of life. I didn’t encounter people trying to define or shape my blackness in the way I have in the United States.

I first encountered this during my early days in elementary school after immigrating to the U.S., specifically in fourth grade. My accent gave me away immediately. Both my white and Black peers were quick to remind me that my Blackness wasn’t the “right” Black—it wasn’t “American” Black. Many Black immigrants would testify to this experience, as it’s far from unique to me. This phenomenon extended beyond the schoolyard and manifests in communities across the world, where we see sub-communities forming within larger ones.

I’ve also experienced this in the professional world. In many professional spaces, there is often a special niche—now more commonly referred to as an affinity group—for Black professionals. For example: Black in Tech. While I understand the reasoning behind such groups, I’ve always rejected them. Personally, I don’t want to be defined as “Black in Tech.” Yes, I am Black. Yes, I work in tech. But I’d rather not categorize myself that way.

I encountered this same phenomenon in the church. There was nothing more bizarre than white Christians going out of their way to teach me Black liberation theology—because if I was going to be a pastor in their white church, it had to be to cultivate a Black Christian community within their larger church. Yet again, this was another affinity group I had to reject. There’s much I could say about the lack of cultural humility here, particularly regarding a liberation theology that wasn’t shaped by Christians at all. My experience wasn’t surprising, though, because in their eyes, I’m Black.

I’ve also faced this in civil and social matters. I’m expected to belong to and serve the Black community because it is the most marginalized. While I understand this expectation, especially at this point in my life, I can’t help but say, “Trust me—I know I’m Black.”. I know! 🤫

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