Redefining Black Excellence: From Class Marker to Community Lift
First and foremost, I love me some “us.” But I have to keep it real. There needs to be a conversation about “Black Excellence.” Don’t get me wrong, I love what people mean when they say “Black Excellence.” It’s pride, defiance, and living proof of what we can build against all odds.
I also worry that in some spaces the phrase does something else: it becomes coded class signaling. It quietly trains us to celebrate wealth, titles, visibility, and Forbes-list status while overlooking the kind of excellence that keeps our families and neighborhoods alive—double shifts, night classes, single parents, caregivers, tradespeople, mentors.
If excellence is defined by prestige alone, we shrink the circle of who counts. And when that circle shrinks, mentorship shrinks with it.
My argument is simple: our communities need a definition of Black Excellence that rewards reaching back, building ladders, and creating everyday leaders, so success compounds rather than isolates.
If excellence is defined by prestige alone, we shrink the circle of who counts in Black Excellence. And when that circle shrinks, mentorship shrinks with it.
This isn’t new; it’s an evolution of how we’ve talked about success in our communities. The phrase “Black Excellence” emerged in the 1970s as a bold affirmation of pride and resilience during the Civil Rights era, building on earlier ideas like W.E.B. Du Bois’s “Talented Tenth” from 1903: the notion that a highly educated elite (the top 10%) could lead and uplift the masses through their achievements. It was a powerful response to racism, carving out space for Black leadership in a world that denied it. But over time, especially as #BlackExcellence blew up on social media in the 2000s, it began to lean more toward “Black exceptionalism,” which celebrates individual standouts with wealth, titles, or “firsts” while sometimes overlooking the everyday excellence of our working-class anchors.
Du Bois himself recognized the limits and evolved his thinking by 1948, reframing it as the “Guiding Hundredth”: a broader, more democratic call for committed leaders from all walks of life who build alliances, serve selflessly, and drive collective progress. The Talented Tenth still has its place—those exceptional folks inspire and open doors—but it’s part of a bigger guiding force that includes everyday people sacrificing and connecting. My argument is simple: our communities need to reclaim that fuller definition of Black Excellence, one that rewards reaching back, building ladders, and creating everyday leaders—so success compounds rather than isolates.
The Hidden Classism in “Black Excellence”
Too often, “Black Excellence” functions like a class marker. It signals prestige while missing the working-class excellence that holds communities together. We rarely highlight the person juggling multiple jobs to finish a degree, or the single parent sacrificing sleep and savings so their kids can attend college. Instead, the phrase can imply that real success means escaping your roots and leaving behind the everyday struggles of the disenfranchised—blue-collar workers, trauma-surviving households, paycheck-to-paycheck families.
This isn’t inclusive; it creates a divide. By tying excellence primarily to monetary or status achievements, we risk telling the rest of our people that their daily grind somehow falls short.
My Vision of True Black Excellence
To me, Black Excellence means making it despite, and in spite of, racism, sexism, classism, and every other barrier in the way. It’s not only about getting out of the hood or the tough environment you grew up in. It’s about thriving while staying connected—remembering the hardworking folks around you and reaching back to help the next person up. Then they reach back, too, building a chain of uplift rather than isolated wins.
That’s why I push back against lines like 50 Cent’s in “Hate It or Love It”(2005):
“Different day, same shit, ain't nothing good in the hood. I'd run away from this bitch and never come back if I could.”
Running away from the hood deepens the brain drain. It pulls out talent and knowledge, leaving neighborhoods with fewer role models, fewer resources, and slower progress. True excellence isn’t escape; it’s investment. It’s building bridges, so the whole community rises.
The Role of Mentorship in Building Servant Leaders
This is where mentorship steps in as the game-changer and course corrector. A strong mentor doesn’t just show you how to copy their path or hit their level—they teach you how to become an example yourself. They instill servant leadership, which puts the needs of those you lead first, often before your own, and showing others how to pay it forward.
Mentors can tackle the class signaling head-on by encouraging mentees to volunteer locally, run skill-sharing workshops, or push for policies that expand access to education and jobs. In real life, I’ve seen this in action through the military and groups like 100 Black Men of America chapters (they’re active nationwide, including recent pushes into 2026). Mentors there don’t just offer advice—they show up consistently for young men, modeling faith, authenticity, and service: helping with homework, teaching financial basics, connecting them to opportunities, and reminding them to mentor the next wave. It’s quiet, steady work that turns individual success into community strength.
Our communities—Black and beyond—need more of this intentional guidance. Start with existing programs like Big Brothers Big Sisters, church networks, or school-based initiatives. The aim is for leaders who serve humbly, without chasing the spotlight.
Everyday Leaders: The Legacy We Need
Around Martin Luther King Jr. Day, we often look for the next big icon—another MLK, Malcolm, Garvey, Du Bois, Hampton, or Washington. But what we really need are everyday leaders: the teachers, coaches, entrepreneurs, and parents who show up day after day, mentoring quietly and leading with heart.
Even W.E.B. Du Bois, who once championed the “Talented Tenth”, which was the idea that a small, highly educated elite should lead and uplift the masses. Later (a possibly angrier) Dubois reexamined his own thinking. By 1948, he reframed it as the “Guiding Hundredth”: a broader call for committed leaders who serve selflessly, build alliances, and work toward collective economic and social progress. He recognized that true leadership isn’t about the privileged few “saving” the rest; it’s about everyday people guiding others through sacrifice, connection, and shared uplift. That’s the legacy we need today. These are the everyday leaders who turn excellence into a communal chain, not a class marker.
These are the folks who transform “Black Excellence” from a class marker into a shared rallying cry. By living servant leadership and mentorship, we honor our ancestors’ legacies through action, not imitation.
So my call to action is that we commit to being those everyday leaders who reach back, build up, and make sure no one gets left behind. True excellence isn’t measured by how far you run alone; it’s measured by how many you bring along.
Who’s the everyday leader you’ve learned from? Drop their name (or a quick story) in the comments. I’d love to hear and celebrate them with you.