I come from a different era in the struggle for Black liberation. I was born right in the thick of it—April 1963, at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. That same hospital where Malcolm X was rushed when he was gunned down just across the street at the Audubon Ballroom. The hospital was so close that they just wheeled him over on a gurney. And half a mile away, on 152nd Street, I was just a baby—too young to know what was happening, but close enough to breathe in the history that was being written in blood.
I have to wonder—did my infant ears hear Malcolm’s voice? My mother and older brother took me everywhere, up and down Harlem, shopping, moving about. Maybe, just maybe, his voice reached me as he spoke on 123rd Street, in front of that bookstore where his image was painted on the wall. That very spot was later recreated in Spike Lee’s Malcolm X movie, but my father and I had driven past the real thing for years before it disappeared. That history is burned into my DNA. It’s not something I picked up for social media clout. It’s not a gimmick. It’s not a hustle. It’s who I am.
I grew up in the wake of fire. The assassinations of Malcolm X and Dr. King, the rise of the Black Panther Party, the original Nation of Islam, SNCC, CORE, and the emergence of the 5% Nation—these weren’t abstract concepts to me. They were real, living, breathing forces. And like the smoke that lingers after fireworks, after gunfire, after battle, the spirit of those revolutionary times never left me. It settled in my bones. It made me who I am.
But today? What do we see? A generation that doesn’t know its history. A generation of frauds who talk a revolutionary game but sell out the moment a spotlight is dangled before them. The same enemy that slaughtered our leaders now hands out social media platforms, checks, and cheap status to anyone willing to entertain, coon, and play nice. And for those who refuse? For those who stand strong like Malcolm, who fight for truth without compromise? They are mocked, ridiculed, slandered, and silenced.
This is why my wife, Mrs. Scurv, doesn’t even want to pour her heart into this struggle anymore. She’s seen what I’ve endured—sleepless nights, relentless work, helping others who only sought to use me for their own gain. We’ve watched so-called revolutionaries cash in their convictions for comfort, sell their people out for a few dollars, while real warriors go unsupported, abandoned, left to wither in silence.
And this is why I write. This is why I am retreating from the distractions of YouTube and social media spectacle and returning to my roots. If you need me, you know my name and where to find me. LanceScurv.com and LanceScurvX.com. The written word cannot be shadowbanned. It cannot be suppressed. It is the purest form of truth. If you seek that truth, if you value this work, then you must support the warriors who still stand. Not with money—not with empty praise—but with action. With solidarity. With the simple effort of spreading this knowledge to those who need it most.
We have failed our true leaders. We have betrayed the ones who gave everything for us. And now, we will suffer the consequences. Over 92%—maybe 93%—of our people, even the ones who claim to know better, will fall at the feet of their oppressors. They will talk a good game but run back to their master’s pale bosom when it matters most. And worse? They will despise those who have always fought for them!
So, is goodness a curse in the Black community? Is standing for truth and righteousness a death sentence among our own people? Let’s get into it.
The Hidden Cost of Goodness
Imagine walking into a room full of people, each wearing a mask—some smiling, some frowning—but none revealing their true face. Now imagine stepping into this world without a mask of your own, without deception, pretense, or the ability to manipulate. How long do you think you’d last? How quickly would you be dismissed as naïve, foolish, or even weak?
This is the fate of many truly good people in the Black community today. Instead of being admired for their honesty, kindness, and generosity, they are often ridiculed, manipulated, and even betrayed by those they try to help.
We love to say we respect goodness, but do we really? Or do we see good people as easy targets? And if being good often leads to suffering, is it even worth it?
By the end of this discussion, you will have a completely new perspective on kindness, morality, and the hidden dangers of being too good in a world that rewards cunning.
Does Society Really Value Goodness?
We like to believe that we admire honesty, kindness, and integrity. But do we really? Or do we merely tolerate these qualities when they do not interfere with our own interests?
Throughout history, the people who rise to power are rarely those who are purely good. Instead, they are those who know when to be ruthless and when to be charming—those who understand how to navigate a world that rewards self-interest over sincerity.
Think about Malcolm X. While he was alive, many people viewed him as controversial, even dangerous, because he spoke the truth with no filter. He was brutally honest about the condition of Black people and refused to sugarcoat his message. As a result, he was rejected by many, even within his own community. It was only after his assassination that people began to fully recognize the wisdom in his words.
Or look at someone like Nipsey Hussle. He built businesses in his own neighborhood, tried to uplift his people, and encouraged financial literacy and self-sufficiency. Yet, despite all the good he did, he was gunned down in the very community he was trying to uplift.
The truth is, goodness is often only celebrated in hindsight. When a person is alive and actively doing good, they are more likely to be envied, resented, or taken advantage of than they are to be appreciated.
Goodness as a Mirror: Why the Good Are Rejected
Despite all of this, we still long for figures like Malcolm and Nipsey—people who are truly, unshakably good. But here’s where things get even more interesting:
Goodness, far from being passive, acts as a mirror—forcing others to confront their own flaws. This is what makes people so uncomfortable around those who are truly good. A good person does not even have to say a word—just by existing, they expose the hypocrisy, selfishness, and deception of those around them.
And what happens when people are forced to see their own shortcomings? Instead of fixing themselves, they attack the person holding up the mirror.
This is why truly good people in our community often become targets. When you are genuinely selfless, people who operate in deception feel threatened. Your goodness exposes their corruption. Your integrity highlights their moral compromise. And rather than acknowledging their own shortcomings, they attack you.
The Crab-in-a-Barrel Mentality: Devouring Our Own
This brings us to a harsh reality that too many Black people have experienced firsthand: the crab-in-a-barrel mentality.
You can spend your life helping your people, giving freely, and uplifting others, only to be met with betrayal, disrespect, and even hatred. The very people you help will often be the first to turn on you. Why? Because your goodness reminds them of what they are not.
Instead of being inspired, they resent you. Instead of supporting you, they try to pull you down. They would rather destroy you than admit they are wrong.
Think about how often Black leaders, entrepreneurs, and community activists are taken down—not by outsiders, but by their own people. Think about how often we see jealousy, sabotage, and deceit among those who should be standing together.
This is why being good in the Black community can feel like a curse.
Why Do Good People Suffer?
If goodness is so pure, so powerful, then why does it so often lead to suffering? Why do the most honest, selfless, and compassionate people often face the greatest betrayals, disappointments, and hardships?
This is a question that has been explored not only in history but also in philosophy, psychology, and even religious thought.
Many of history’s most revered figures—whether social reformers, revolutionaries, or great thinkers—have faced immense suffering. Jesus, Marcus Garvey, Harriet Tubman, Fred Hampton—all dedicated their lives to justice, truth, and compassion. And all were met with opposition, persecution, and, in many cases, violent ends.
Why?
Because true goodness is disruptive. It challenges the status quo. It forces people to confront their own moral contradictions. And most people, whether they realize it or not, do not want to be confronted with those contradictions.
When Nipsey Hussle opened businesses and preached ownership, he wasn’t just helping people—he was challenging the entire mentality of poverty, dependence, and self-destruction that had been ingrained in his community. And that made him a target.
When Malcolm X told Black people to think for themselves and reject the system that oppressed them, he was seen as dangerous—not just by white supremacists, but by some Black people as well, who feared what true independence might mean.
This is the same reason why Black people who refuse to play the game, who refuse to be corrupt, who refuse to betray their morals, often end up suffering the most.
Is Goodness a Mistake?
If suffering is often the fate of good people, then what is the purpose of being good? Is it worth it?
Here’s the truth:
The value of goodness does not lie in how others perceive it, but in its inherent nature.
In other words, true goodness does not need validation. It does not require admiration or reward. It exists—not because the world appreciates it—but because it is the right way to be.
This is deeply challenging because it goes against everything we are conditioned to believe. We are told to seek validation, to measure our actions by their results, to expect fairness in return for our efforts.
But true goodness is not transactional. It does not ask, “What will I get in return?” It simply exists.
And yet, here’s the paradox:
Even though good people suffer, they leave an undeniable impact on those they meet. Even those who reject them cannot forget them. Even those who mock them are changed by their presence.
This suggests that while goodness may not always triumph in a traditional sense, it has a power that is more subtle and lasting than we might realize.
The Power of Uncompromising Goodness
If goodness is not measured by its rewards, then what is its true power?
It lies in the silent, unnoticed ways in which true goodness transforms those who come into contact with it.
It forces people to reflect. It plants seeds of change. It exposes the lies they tell themselves.
And that, more than anything, is why good people will always be a threat to a world built on deception.
Think about it and leave a comment below…….
