Chapter 1

Lord KNows & Time Tells

“I think I can do it,” I said, running the numbers in my head. “If I charge $500 a shoot, all I need is a few a week, and I can leave Verizon.”

Juliana wasn’t so sure. “I think you should wait,” she said, pulling me back from the edge.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just... sometimes it feels like you’re not even here anymore.”

I opened my mouth to answer but stopped. She wasn’t wrong. Part of me was already gone, fixated on a world I could only see in glimpses. I wanted to tell her it would all make sense soon—that she’d understand why I needed this. But in that moment, I couldn’t find the words.

My philosophy was to script it, then live it. And everything I’d been scripting, I was living. I’d just started renting a studio for photography in Jersey City. My plan was to grow my network and then say, “But I rap, too.”

I wanted to be like my boy Rick—documenting big-name artists on tour, shooting videos, making music with them. It was everything I wanted to be doing, but instead, I was stuck going to an office every day.

Now that I was getting some traction with my side hustle, it felt like I was being talked out of it.

“I just want us to be okay,” my girlfriend sighed.

Okay?

I knew if I couldn’t convince my girl, I definitely couldn’t convince my mom.

Leaving a proper career to pursue videos full-time? That wasn’t even a conversation I was willing to have with my mom. I already knew what she’d say. To her, I hadn’t gone through all that schooling just to gamble on something so uncertain. There was no way she’d be on board.

In college, my mom made it clear: dropping out wasn’t an option. She was fine with me chasing dreams on the side, but stability came first.

When I graduated with my bachelor’s degree, ready to work, she didn’t give me a pass. “Get your master’s now, while you’re young,” she said. There was no room for debate.

I had $60,000 in student loan debt, and it felt like I couldn’t do anything until I paid it off—and paying it off seemed like it would take forever.

Then there was my pastor, who played the role of surrogate father. He didn’t approve of my relationship because she wasn’t saved and as far as he was concerned, if I wasn’t using my gifts for “the kingdom,” I was on the road to destruction. So each Sunday, I drove back to church in Connecticut, an hour and 45 minutes from my place in New Jersey, just to avoid the conversation.

I was tired of living a double life.

At work, I felt like Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man.

“What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?”

I had one year left in a three-year leadership development program, and I was hoping a conversation with my director, Ray, would open some doors—maybe give me a chance to transition into a role that felt more aligned with my creative ambitions, like marketing or media.

“We just don’t get any passion from you,” he said coldly during our one-on-one.

Passion?

I already knew what they were thinking: Omari shows a lot of promise, but he's clearly not fit for this environment. He comes in late every day, wears what he wants, doesn’t communicate. No one knows what he’s doing, and… we’re not sure he knows what he’s doing.

“So what’s up?” Ray said, leaning back. “What’s going on with you? You seem like you're checked out.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d been trying to hide for months, but with the only high-top fade in the entire corporate headquarters, it was hard not to stand out. My previous manager had tried talking me out of my “Kid ‘n Play” haircut—something about “fitting in with the old boys’ club”—but that wasn’t happening.

Ray was one of the few Black men in the organization. If there was anyone I should’ve been able to open up to, it was him. But I never had that kind of relationship with authority, and it didn’t seem like it was gonna start now.

“Yeah, umm, I’m interested in the marketing side of things,” I finally spoke up.

“Yah.” He nodded, unimpressed. “We need to see more initiative here. We need to see that you're fully committed.”

I looked out the window at the woods behind him. The trees swayed lightly, almost as if they were calling to me.

I couldn’t help but think, if this was a corporate plantation, what kind of slave would I be?

Would I be content, sitting in the big house, with Ray?

Or would I make a run for it, through those woods like a Maroon?

Lord knows and time tells, I told myself.

Lord knows, and time tells.