The Essence Discourse Isn’t Division. It’s Devotion.

Essence is at a cultural crossroads, and the discourse surrounding it is proof that people still care.

I’ve seen Essence at its peak.

In 2016, I had the surreal experience of attending the Essence Festival as part of Oprah’s entourage. Oprah.

Ava DuVernay

. Iyanla Vanzant. I believe Tyler Perry was there, too. I can't remember. OWN was on fire, and we were coming in hot. Queen Sugar was launching its very first season, developed and filmed in New Orleans, and Ava was crystal clear: this had to be the place. There was no other community, no other moment, no other platform like Essence.

It was so much more than a promo stop, it was a pilgrimage to connect with our audience.

It was also Oprah’s first time attending Essence Festival, and it felt like arriving with the President. Motorcades. Street shutdowns. Packed convention halls. Our team orchestrated a full campaign: Oprah’s keynote, Ava on stage, the Queen Sugar trailer debuting at the Superdome, a full booth inside the convention center, a private screening in a local theater, a party on the strip, and a street team of fine Black men handing out Queen Sugar swag.

And while people were excited to see us - grateful, joyful even - wherever Oprah goes, so does the feedback.

Because when something is that beloved, people care. They notice the details. They speak up. They have high expectations. They say what they feel.

When you work for a brand that means so much to so many, the feedback never stops.

When the People Care Enough to Speak

I remember the sheer volume of people who would come up to us at Essence both grateful and also armed with opinions. Some loved what we were doing. Others had a long list of what they felt we were getting wrong:

Why didn’t she come sooner? Why did we cancel that show? Why didn’t we cast differently? Why wasn’t there more representation of this or that? Why did we make that programming decision? Why did Tyler put Benny in a coma? Why was Oprah wearing that on SuperSoul Sunday? … and on … and on… and on…

As someone responsible for executing the strategies and holding the details, I remember feeling the weight of it. It was relentless. The volume and the passion. The expectations. Everyone had something to say… good, bad, ugly. And they said it.

But I was always struck by Oprah’s leadership. I could never imagine what it was like to be her, the most influential woman on the planet for a time. The highest form of royalty for Black women. A mirror, a mother figure, a mogul. There was no way to exist at that level without constant critique.

And yet, she always handled it with grace.

She listened. She thanked people for their feedback. She thanked them for caring. Asked their name. Told them we'd be in touch. Because she understood something that too many of us forget: feedback is a form of love. And more than that, it’s how you know you’re doing something meaningful.

When people care enough to speak up, to push back, to demand better, it’s a sign that the work matters. That it’s landing. That it’s theirs, too. She also modeled something else: the ability to know what feedback was hers to take, and what wasn’t.

Because Oprah knows who she is. She’s been clear about who she’s becoming long before most of us ever met her. That clarity gave her discernment. She could hear the truth in the noise. And when something hit that rare nerve, when a critique was brutally honest and undeniably accurate, you could feel it land.

It would rock her. You could see it in her eyes. Because truth has a sound and a feeling.

Great leaders don’t silence their critics. Because to silence the critic is to silence their care.

Critique Is Not Betrayal

Critique, at its core, is a sign that people are still invested. That they still expect something from you. The gap between what’s expected and what’s experienced is where frustration lives. And right now, that frustration with Essence is real.

You can see it everywhere. In the tweets. On Threads. In our text messages. From attendees. From those watching from afar. From those recalling what Essence used to be.

But here’s what we’re missing: high expectations are a privilege.

People don’t get this loud about something they don’t love. They don’t argue, analyze, or organize this kind of discourse around something they’ve written off. If people are disappointed, it means they’ve seen the brand at its best. They know what it can be.

Essence is one of our most beloved institutions. It occupies sacred space in the hearts of Black women everywhere. To build a brand that not only survives, but matters, across decades is nearly impossible. And yet, Essence did it.

We need to name that. To honor the women and men—past and present—who carried the weight of that legacy forward.

Essence Still Matters

Launched in May 1970, Essence has been a living testament to Black progress and a beacon of Black empowerment. Few brands, let alone publications, can claim such a legacy. The Essence Festival became the largest annual gathering of African-American musical talent and cultural expression.

But it was always about more than entertainment. Essence is a trusted confidante. A cultural compass. A home for our stories.

So even in this moment of discourse, especially in this moment, Essence is still doing its job. It is illuminating the conversations we need to have.

What does it mean to publicly critique a Black-owned brand? What do we do with our disappointment? How do we hold our icons accountable without tearing them down? What does evolution look like for a legacy brand that means this much?

We understand what’s happening. One of our great beloved brands is in crisis.

Greatness requires friction. It demands sharpening.

Essence is in a transitional moment, and like anyone we love, we’re raising our voices to get its attention. We’re not tearing it down, we’re trying to reach it. We’re saying: you’re not hearing us. You’re not listening to the ones who love you. The ones who hold you in a sacred part of our hearts.

Frustration is not failure. Agitation is not abandonment. Pain is not poison, it’s often the beginning of blessing.

And I think we’ve gotten this part all wrong. Our relationship to pain, especially in public, is distorted. We think silence is grace. That not naming the problem is loyalty. That to speak the truth of our experience is somehow a betrayal.

But when we stay silent, we rob Essence of who it can become. We rob it of the transformation that only truth can bring.

If you want to be a brand that stands the test of time, you must be willing to sit in the discomfort of what’s true. To welcome critique not as threat, but as data. As care. Great leadership listens. It goes back to its original intent. It doesn’t rush to defend, it gets still enough to discern.

Great leadership calls up the people who’ve issued the most aggressive critiques and says: help me understand. Because the louder the scream, the deeper the pain. And the deeper the pain, the greater the love.

Preserve the Core. Stimulate the Growth.

We don’t critique what we don’t care about. We don’t shout for things we’ve given up on. We raise our voices because we still believe. So whether you think the problem is...

• They’re catering too much to influencers and creators…

• We’re in a recession and people can’t afford to go…

• There are more options now… Cannes, Martha’s Vineyard, Afrotech…

• The music lineup isn’t what it used to be…

• They’re not hiring the right vendors…

• They’re not catering to younger audiences…

• They’re not leveraging the local economy…

• They shouldn’t be in New Orleans…

• They shouldn’t have told Target they couldn’t come…

...you’re right. That’s your truth. That’s your experience. And it deserves to be said out loud. But ultimately, what matters most is not the critique, it’s the response.

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t your issue. This is a leadership issue.

Lodge your complaint. Speak your truth. As a consumer. A reader. A festival attendee. A critic. A lover of the brand. To be great over time means being willing to evolve. To rupture. To get it wrong sometimes. To feel the stretch and choose to grow anyway.

Will leadership pull the critiques closer? Or will they look away?

That is how we will really know where Essence is and what will happen next.

Our hope is simple: That the leadership of Essence is as invested in its becoming as we are.

sending you so much love wherever you are,

m