Luvvie Ajayi

I feel like my career is to speak truth to power, and a lot of times, that sounds like troublemaking. If speaking truth is troublemaking, then yes, I will consider myself a professional at that.

Being able to live without having to be defined by your skin color is the hallmark of privilege.

Through my school years, I learned more about slavery, anti-black racism, and oppression in the U.S., and my blackness could no longer be an afterthought. I started wearing it proudly, and as my consciousness deepened, so did my love for black folks.

You can be tweeting strangers and saying, 'Don't say that,' but are you saying that to your friends? How about your mom? Your boyfriend at the dinner table who says something homophobic? If you're not saying the same things in person that you're saying online, then what are your tweets doing?

When people say things like, 'Oh, I can't find black or brown whatever position it is,' I wanted to be clear that we exist in droves. When I tell people, 'Hey, share your work, share your LinkedIn,' it's with the ultimate goal that somebody on that thread gets hired, or something positive happens.

Being conscious of Global Blackness is knowing that we are not an island of our struggle but a nation of our triumphs. That's blackness to me.

The most glaring aspect of white privilege is that when someone is described neutrally - without indicating color or ethnicity - more often than not, people will assume that the person is white. That assumption indicates an uncomfortable truth: in our society, whiteness determines humanity.

Fire Yourself. Outsource some of your life. Because you know what won't be cute on a tombstone? 'Her grind was impeccable, and she did it all by herself.'

I want people to see my color and my culture written all over me, because I am proud of the skin I'm in. It is an important part of my identity. What I don't want them to do is mistreat me because of it.