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Why Black Male Success Is Always Put on Trial

A Manifesto and a Warning for Those Who Dare to Rise

When Black Men Rise Too High


"When Black men rise too high, society has a way of pulling them back down."


Throughout history, when Black men reach positions of power, influence, and visibility, they often face more than competition — they face targeted efforts to discredit, dismantle, or destroy them.


This is not simply about holding people accountable. It is about a persistent pattern of heightened scrutiny, aggressive prosecution, and public humiliation that disproportionately falls on successful Black men.


Marcus Garvey was labeled “the most dangerous Black man in America” for daring to preach Black economic self-reliance. He was infiltrated by J. Edgar Hoover’s agents, prosecuted for mail fraud, imprisoned, and deported — his movement fractured before it could transform Black America.


Robert F. Smith, now the richest Black man in America, famously paid off Morehouse College’s entire Class of 2019 student debt — a public act that electrified the nation. Just over a year later, he entered into a non-prosecution agreement with the Justice Department and IRS, paying approximately $140 million to resolve tax issues and avoid indictment, while agreeing to cooperate against his mentor.


Bill Cosby, Jesse Jackson, Sean “Diddy” Combs — all have seen late-career reputations marred or dismantled in ways that ensured their influence would never fully recover.

Coincidence — or a playbook?

My Story: Seven Years Under Siege


I know this playbook well.


As a Harvard-trained orthopedic spine surgeon, Columbia and Harvard graduate, and CEO of a growing medical technology company disrupting a $20 billion spine surgery industry, I became a target.


For seven years, I was investigated by the FBI and DOJ on allegations ranging from kickbacks to conspiracy to money laundering. Witnesses were pressured, colleagues were turned into informants, and private conversations were secretly recorded.


In the end, every original charge was dismissed. But the government still demanded a public “win.” I was forced to plead guilty to a single felony count of making a false statement — not because they proved wrongdoing, but because they wanted a press release and a headline.

"After seven years and millions in legal fees, I was exhausted — but the price of peace was accepting a scarlet letter that would damage my medical licenses, my reputation, and my future opportunities."

This was not justice — it was a calculated effort to cripple me and limit my ability to lead, inspire, and build.

Why Me? Why Us?


Why are men like us pursued with such persistence?


Because we are not just individuals. We represent possibility.


I was building a physician-led, Black-founded company that could shift wealth, ownership, and power. I was training doctors, innovating technologies, and creating a blueprint for others to follow.

"When you start shifting power — economic, cultural, generational — you become a threat to the system."

That visibility, that potential to inspire and redirect wealth toward the Black community, is exactly what makes us targets.

Reputation Assassination: The Modern Weapon


Today, you no longer need to kill a leader to stop a movement.


A felony plea, a tax indictment, or a public scandal can discredit a person so thoroughly that their ideas no longer gain traction. And the message it sends to young Black men is clear: stay quiet, don’t be too visible, don’t try to uplift too loudly — or you will be next.

A Manifesto for Black Male Success


This is my manifesto and my warning.


Build anyway. Build with integrity. Build knowing that attacks may come — and prepare for them before they do.

"Lawyer up early. Pay your taxes. Document everything. Build defensible systems. Train your team to withstand pressure."

But preparation is not enough. We must invest in each other.


Too often, Black men climb alone, fight alone, and only seek help when under siege — when the hospital pulls privileges, when lawsuits threaten their wealth, when the medical board questions their competence, when the media comes for their reputation.

"One plus one is not two — when we come together, it is four, it is ten. Alone, we are vulnerable. Together, we are unbreakable."

We must stop trusting that white institutions will protect us more than we trust each other’s companies, funds, and ventures. We need to put capital into one another’s businesses, sit on each other’s boards, and create systems of shared defense — legal, financial, and reputational.

A Warning to the Next Generation


The price of Black male success is not just high — it is dangerous.


The cost of building is great, but the cost of doing nothing is greater. If we fail to invest in one another, we will be picked off one by one, leaving the next generation to start from zero again.

"The real tragedy is not that they come for us — it’s that we are not ready, and we are not standing together when they do."

This is not a call to fear. It is a call to readiness and unity. Build. Organize. Invest in each other. Protect each other. And prepare for the storm — because if history is any guide, it will come.

 
 
 

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