It's
June already and I can't help but think about Father's Day and my own Father.
My
father was a quiet man.
Maybe
being in a house full of five women softened his edges or stole his words—I
don’t know. He never had a son, and maybe that made him quieter still. I often
joke that’s why I ended up with his initials. But jokes aside, there are so
many things I wish I knew about him.
He
never told us much about his life. But the little I do know lingers in my mind
like questions that never got asked—and now never will. What I know is this: My
father grew up without his mother. She was over 20 years younger than my
grandfather, and somehow—somewhere—she disappeared from his life. I never met
her. She died when I was eight years old, but she never sent a birthday card, a
Christmas gift, or even a hello. I often wonder if that early abandonment left
a mark on his heart he never talked about. Maybe that silence he carried was
grief with nowhere to go.
He
didn’t go to her funeral. And I never asked why. I wish I had. I also know he
was injured during his time in the Army, stationed overseas in a world that was
foreign both by culture and by the color of his skin. A Black man in the late
1940s, navigating military life and segregation, while never finishing
college... What dreams did he bury along the way?
He never said.
I
still wonder if he had hopes for us—his daughters—that went unspoken. I
remember he always wanted me to major in banking. To this day, I have no idea
why. Maybe because he was good with numbers. Maybe he saw something in that
career that promised stability or respect. When I chose pre-med and eventually
psychology instead, did he feel proud... or disappointed?
I
have more questions than answers.
If
my father had written his story, I might have known him differently. I might
have seen my own life more clearly through the lens of his truth. That’s the
power of legacy. That’s the power of memoir.
Too
many times, Black men are told to be strong, stay silent, and keep it moving.
They've learned how to survive — but very few have learned how to process what
they lived through, much less share it.
Writing
a memoir isn’t just about putting words on paper. It’s about unlocking parts
of yourself you didn’t even know were waiting to speak.
Let
me break down why this matters — especially for Black men.
1.
Memoir is Self-Discovery
Writing
your story gives you the rare chance to look back and really see yourself
— the good, the bad, and the growth. You’ll uncover moments you forgot, connect
dots you never noticed, and hear your own voice more clearly than ever.
“Sometimes you don’t know how powerful you are until you
write it down.”
2. Reclaiming the Narrative
Let’s
be honest — Black men are constantly misrepresented in media, history books,
even in our own families. Memoir writing allows you to take your story out
of other people’s hands and reclaim the truth.
Your
voice matters. Your perspective is valid. Your life is not a stereotype — it’s
a testimony.
3. Empowerment Through Reflection
When
you take time to reflect on your life — your decisions, your losses, your wins
— you gain strength and clarity. You stop carrying shame. You learn from the
hard seasons. And you see just how far you’ve come.
4. Mental Health and Healing
Let’s
talk about it: Black men need safe ways to process pain, anger, confusion, and
even joy. Writing is a powerful mental health tool — it helps reduce stress,
increase emotional awareness, and release bottled-up tension.
Writing
your story is one of the most liberating and therapeutic things you can do.
5. Teaching, Mentoring, and Legacy
When
you write your story, you’re not just writing for you — you're writing for the
sons, nephews, mentees, and generations to come. Your journey becomes a
blueprint. Your words become wisdom.
You’ve
learned a lot — and somebody needs to hear it.
Black
Men Write Too is an
8-week experience designed to help Black men finally start (and finish) the
memoir you’ve been carrying in your head and heart.
Whether
you’ve got pages already written or don’t even know where to start — I got you.
We’ll
walk through it together. Step by step.
- Live +
on-demand sessions
- Writing
prompts and workbook
- Supportive
community
- Guidance
from someone who knows what legacy looks like
Don’t wait until your story is told by someone
else.
Tell
it yourself. Write it in your own words. Leave something real.
Email
me at info@janicerlove.com
to learn more about Black Men Write Too.
(Ladies,
this would make a great Father's Day Gift.)
With
purpose,
Dr.
Janice R. Love
Legacy Coach | Content Strategist | Founder,
Pearls Perfected Institute. Helping purpose-driven professionals teach what
they know & monetize their mission
