The Business You Keep Saying You’re Going to Start

Maybe the first step toward rebuilding Black Wall Street isn’t finding an investor. Maybe it’s finally taking your own idea…
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Maybe the first step toward rebuilding Black Wall Street isn’t finding an investor. Maybe it’s finally taking your own idea seriously.

There is a business you have been talking about for entirely too long.

You know the one.

The idea that comes back while you’re driving.

The thing you casually mention over dinner.

The concept sitting somewhere between a Notes app, three screenshots, an unfinished Canva logo and a conversation you had with your cousin six months ago.

Every once in a while, you get excited about it again.

I really should do this.

Then Monday happens.

There are bills.

There is work.

Somebody needs something.

You get tired.

And the business quietly returns to the little corner of your imagination where we keep the lives we swear we are eventually going to live.

But what if eventually is costing us something?

We Love the Finished Story

Black entrepreneurship is beautiful once it becomes a photograph.

The ribbon cutting.

The storefront.

The restaurant with a line outside.

The founder standing beneath the sign.

The article announcing the expansion.

The congratulations.

What we don’t photograph nearly as often is Tuesday night at somebody’s kitchen table.

That’s where a lot of businesses actually begin.

No investors.

No employees.

No beautiful office.

Sometimes no clue what you’re doing.

Just an idea and somebody stubborn enough to keep asking:

Could this work?

That question matters.

Because every business we admire existed first as something that wasn’t guaranteed.

Black Wall Street Was Built by People

We invoke Black Wall Street so often that Tulsa can begin to feel almost mythical.

But Greenwood wasn’t magic.

It was commerce.

People needed doctors.

People needed hotels.

People needed groceries.

People needed clothes.

People needed entertainment.

People needed lawyers.

People needed somewhere to eat.

And Black entrepreneurs built businesses to meet those needs.

Money moved through a community because businesses existed for that money to move through.

That distinction matters.

Because rebuilding Black economic power cannot only mean remembering what was destroyed.

At some point, remembrance has to become construction.

And construction begins with somebody deciding to build something.

Your Idea Doesn’t Have to Be Revolutionary

This may be where we make entrepreneurship harder than it needs to be.

Everybody thinks they need the next billion-dollar idea.

You probably don’t.

You might need to solve a problem.

What do people around you complain about?

What do they already pay someone else to do?

What are you unusually good at?

What do friends constantly ask you for help with?

What exists in another neighborhood that you wish existed in yours?

What would make somebody’s Tuesday slightly easier?

There may be a business hiding inside one of those answers.

The glamorous question is:

What is my passion?

The profitable question might be:

What problem can I solve well enough that somebody would pay me to solve it again?

Those aren’t always the same question.

And Please Don’t Start With the Logo

I know.

The logo is fun.

So is choosing colors.

So is imagining the website.

So is ordering business cards for a business that has not yet made one dollar.

But before any of that, ask something much less glamorous:

Who is the customer?

Not “everybody.”

Who specifically needs this?

How are they solving the problem now?

What are they paying?

Why would they choose you?

And—this is important—

Have you actually asked them?

You can save yourself months of guessing by having ten honest conversations.

Not:

Would you support my business?

People love you. They’ll say yes.

Ask:

Would you pay $35 for this?

Suddenly everybody becomes an economist.

Good.

You need that answer.

Make the First Dollar

There is something psychologically enormous about the first dollar.

Not the first thousand.

Not six figures.

One dollar.

Because before someone pays you, you have an idea.

After someone pays you, you have evidence.

Someone exchanged money for something you created.

Now you can ask better questions.

Why did they buy?

Would they buy again?

Would they tell someone else?

Was the price right?

How much did it actually cost you to deliver?

What went wrong?

What took too long?

What could be improved?

The first customer teaches you things the hundredth brainstorming session never will.

So perhaps your goal this week shouldn’t be:

Start my business.

That’s enormous.

Try:

Find one customer.

That’s a Tuesday.

Start Smaller Than Your Ego Wants To

You don’t necessarily need a storefront.

You may need a table.

You may not need a restaurant.

You may need twelve plates on Saturday.

You may not need a clothing company.

You may need twenty shirts.

You may not need a consulting firm.

You may need one client.

You may not need a publishing empire.

You may need one excellent newsletter that 100 people actually want to read.

Starting small isn’t thinking small.

It’s purchasing information cheaply.

You learn what people want before signing a lease, ordering 5,000 units or spending money trying to look successful.

The goal isn’t to appear like a business.

The goal is to become one.

But There Is Another Side to This

We also have to stop romanticizing Black entrepreneurship.

Starting a business will not magically repair every structural economic inequality in America.

Capital matters.

Credit matters.

Property ownership matters.

Access matters.

Policy matters.

Generational wealth matters.

Who gets funded matters.

Who owns the building matters.

Who can survive three bad months matters.

Those realities shouldn’t discourage us.

They should make us smarter.

Because “support Black business” cannot be the entire economic strategy.

We need sustainable Black businesses.

Profitable Black businesses.

Black businesses that own assets.

Black businesses that employ people.

Black businesses that purchase from other Black businesses.

Black businesses that survive their founders.

And eventually:

Black businesses capable of investing in the next Black business.

That’s when a marketplace begins becoming an ecosystem.

So Here’s Your Assignment

Before this week ends, take the business you’ve been talking about and put it through five questions:

What am I selling?

Who specifically needs it?

What problem does it solve?

What will someone actually pay for it?

What is the smallest version I can sell this week?

Then do something terrifying.

Ask somebody to buy it.

Not compliment it.

Not like the Instagram page.

Not tell you how proud they are.

Buy it.

Because perhaps rebuilding Black Wall Street doesn’t begin with a street at all.

Maybe it begins in kitchens.

On laptops.

At folding tables.

Inside barbershops.

In spare bedrooms.

At farmers markets.

In church parking lots.

Between shifts.

After the children go to sleep.

With ordinary people deciding that the idea they’ve been carrying deserves the chance to become something real.

And somewhere, somebody reading this already knows exactly which idea I’m talking about.

So maybe the question isn’t whether you’re ready.

Maybe it’s:

How much longer are you going to make your future wait?

by Jarvus Ricardo Hester

The Mood Question

What is the business, idea or dream you keep saying you’re going to start—and what is one thing you could actually do this week to move it forward?

Stay in the Mood

Today, pay attention to ownership.

Notice where you spend your money. Notice who owns the businesses you walk into, who employs your neighbors, who owns the building and where the money goes after it leaves your hand.

Then look at your own skills differently.

That thing you know how to do may be more than a hobby. That problem you keep noticing may be more than an annoyance. And that idea you keep returning to may be asking you for something more useful than another year of thinking about it.

Black Wall Street: The Revival is where Mood explores Black business, ownership, entrepreneurship, wealth creation and the people building the next generation of Black economic power.

This isn’t simply about celebrating successful businesses.

It’s about learning how we build more of them.

Then keep the conversation going on WHRL Mood Radio and throughout the Mood Media Network.

Build something. Own something. Support something. Stay curious. Stay in the Mood.

Mood Magazine. Mind. Body. Spirit. Culture. Harlem to the world.

Jarvus Ricardo Hester

JARVUSHESTER

Jarvus Ricardo Hester Founder, Artistic Director, Editor-in-Chief, and Cultural Storyteller Jarvus Ricardo Hester is an opera singer, arts administrator, media executive, and entrepreneur dedicated to making the arts more accessible while preserving and amplifying the stories that shape communities. He is the Founder and Artistic Director of Harlem Collective Opera, Harlem Boys Choir, and the Harlem Chamber Orchestra, organizations committed to expanding access to classical music through innovative performances, educational initiatives, and community engagement. As Editor-in-Chief of Mood Magazine NYC and the founder of the Mood Media Network, Hester oversees a growing multimedia ecosystem that includes WHRL Mood Radio Harlem, The Morning Show NYC, After Hours NYC, and Mood TV. Through these platforms, he curates stories that explore culture, travel, wellness, food, literature, business, and the arts from Harlem to communities around the world. An alumnus of the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, Hester has performed with professional opera companies and has dedicated his career to reimagining how audiences experience classical music. His work consistently bridges the worlds of performance, journalism, tourism, education, and community development. His signature initiative, The Black Composer Project, celebrates the contributions of Black classical composers through immersive concert experiences that combine music, storytelling, and historical exploration. Whether through a live performance, a magazine feature, a radio broadcast, or a community partnership, Hester's work is guided by a simple philosophy: Stories create connections. Art builds communities. Culture preserves legacy. Harlem to the world. Be a part of the story.

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