The "thanks for your interest, but..." email arrived weeks after I'd proudly pitched my speaker topic to Blavity Fest. I was excited about my angle: how creatives can build thriving careers that don't lie on either extreme of being broke or Beyoncé. It felt timely, relevant, and personal—the kind of topic that could spark meaningful conversations.
But, it wasn't what they were looking for.
Fortunately, years of rejection in my professional dance career had built considerable resilience. The entertainment industry teaches you early that "no" rarely reflects your worth and sometimes has nothing to do with your talent. Still, rejection stings, even when you're prepared for it.
What I wasn't prepared for was what came along with the rejection: a generous discount code to attend the event. The irony wasn't lost on me—I couldn’t be on stage, but I was still invited to the party. The discount was so generous that I quickly accepted the invitation and even splurged on VIP access.
I walked into Blavity Fest that Saturday morning in Atlanta with an intentional openness rather than wounded pride. As someone building The Purpose Post, a media platform for professionals with entrepreneurial spirits (whether they're side hustling, planning their next move, or simply approaching their careers with an ownership mindset), I went to observe, learn, and stay open to whatever unfolded.
What I found was better than any speaking slot could have provided: authentic community and five timely reminders that arrived exactly when I needed them—delivered by the very speakers whose lineup I hadn't made it onto.
The Magic of Unexpected Connections
Before I dive into those reminders, let me paint the picture of how community unfolded for me. Early on during day one, I bumped into a Spelman sister I’d been seeing everywhere lately. A quick hug and hello soon became, “wanna grab a seat over here?” We became conference buddies, attending multiple sessions together and debriefing on our walks between session spaces.
Later, at lunch, a woman at the restaurant bar saw the letters on my bag, and gave a warm, “hey, Soror.” A few minutes later, we slid our seats together and spent an hour swapping stories about college, career, and life. These weren't the polished networking exchanges you endure at most conferences—they were real conversations between real people figuring out real challenges.
The pattern continued. I ran into familiar faces from my fellow stakeholders of Atlanta’s Russell Innovation Center for Entrepreneurs, had authentic exchanges with strangers as we waited for sessions to start, and found myself in the kind of conversations that make you think, "This is why I came."
But it was the wisdom shared from the stage that provided the framework for everything else.
The $3,000 Investment That Broke All the Rules
Reminder #1: Revenue isn't always the point (Trell Thomas, Black Excellence Brunch)
Trell Thomas's story unfolded like a masterclass in purpose-driven strategy disguised as a casual conversation. He started Black Excellence Brunch with $3,000 of his own money, hand-selecting attendees for an invite-only experience. No ticket sales. No immediate revenue model. Just intention and investment.
"The following year," he shared, "Netflix gave me $50,000 to produce it."
I was shocked. Here was proof that leading with purpose could open doors you never thought to knock on. The brunch has since grown to include events on the White House lawn, still invitation-only, potentially still free for attendees. Thomas now attracts brand sponsorships because of the authentic community he built, not despite his unconventional approach.
For those of us committed to building something meaningful, this was permission to prioritize impact over immediate income.
The Million-Dollar Mistake That Changed Everything
Reminder #2: Ownership is your long-term wealth strategy (Tommy and Cody Oliver, Black Love + Confluential Films)
Tommy Oliver's transparency about his biggest professional regret felt like getting financial advice from a trusted friend rather than a business school lecture. One of his early films, "The Perfect Guy” starring Sanaa Lathan, Morris Chestnut, and Michael Ealy went on to make millions. His mistake? Selling the rights instead of maintaining ownership.
The lesson transformed how he and his wife Codie approached their Black Love TV series. As first-time series creators pitching to OWN, they offered a licensing deal instead of a commission, which is atypical in television. That decision allowed them to eventually grow Black Love into the media brand it is today with a website, events, and content streaming across multiple channels and platforms.
This hit differently for professionals building intellectual property. Whether you're writing a book, developing a course, or creating content, the structures you establish today determine your wealth-building potential tomorrow.
The Festival Circuit Reality Check
Reminder #3: Traditional gatekeepers are optional (Tommy and Codie Oliver, Black Love Confluential Films)
When I asked about documentary distribution during the Q&A, Oliver's response was sobering. The traditional pathway—festivals, conversations, deals—is "just harder and harder to do these days," he explained. "It's actually not necessarily a viable option anymore."
This was such an honest response. The democratization of content distribution means we have more control and more responsibility for getting our work seen. Whether it's YouTube, LinkedIn, newsletters, or direct-to-audience platforms, waiting for permission is a luxury we can't afford.
The Peer-Level Partnership Strategy
Reminder #4: Build across, not just up (Karen Civil, Music Industry Executive)
Karen Civil's session felt like getting career advice from a homegirl over drinks…raw, unfiltered, to the point. Her emphasis on "building with people across from you" challenged the typical networking approach of constantly reaching upward.
Instead of only seeking partnerships with those already more successful, Civil advocated for identifying peers doing quality work at your level. These relationships, she explained, often prove more sustainable and mutually beneficial as you rise together.
This was a great reminder for me even as I made new connections at Blavity Fest. Every handshake felt ripe with the possibility of a future partnership, collaboration, or dare I say it, friend.
The $250,000 Lesson in Persistence
Reminder #5: One broken component doesn't require starting over (David Shands, "The Podcast King")
David Shands didn't just share advice; he demonstrated it through live coaching that felt like watching a master craftsman work. When attendees asked what they should do about struggling ideas, he never gave direct answers. Instead, he walked them through finding solutions themselves.
His car analogy was perfect: "If your car doesn't start one day, you don’t throw the whole car away, right?” Then came the vulnerability that made it real: "I had an event that lost $250,000 one year and broke even the next year."
For professionals building something new, this was incredibly encouraging and somehow validating (at least for me). That online course that didn't sell might need better marketing, not complete abandonment. That consulting practice that's slow to grow might need refined positioning, not a career pivot. Success often requires the patience to diagnose and fix rather than giving up and starting over.
The Thread That Connects It All
As I left the venue Sunday evening after belting out some of my favorite Kirk Franklin songs in the VIP area steps away from the stage, I realized the irony of my weekend. I'd learned more as an audience member than I probably would have as a speaker. I came to observe and ended up participating in ways I never expected.
The same principle applied to the business wisdom I'd absorbed. Each speaker had succeeded not by following someone else's blueprint, but by staying true to their vision while remaining strategically flexible about execution. Thomas with his purpose-over-profit approach. The Olivers with their ownership-focused strategy. Civil with her peer-level relationship building. Shands with his systematic problem-solving mindset.
For those of us building something meaningful—whether it's a side hustle, a career transition plan, or simply a more intentional approach to professional growth—these reminders offer a framework that honors both impact and sustainability.
And that speaker rejection that initially stung? It led me to experience Blavity Fest as a learner rather than a teacher, which turned out to be exactly what I needed. I went seeking validation for my expertise and found something better: confirmation that I was already on the right path, along with a community of people walking similar journeys.
Sometimes you don't get the platform you think you want, but you get the perspective you actually need.
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