June Benjamin ESQ (@June_Oshun)
Born in Liberia and later navigating life as a refugee in America, I’ve had a unique vantage point on power dynamics—both in post-colonial Africa and Black America context. Liberia, once viewed as a land of hope for Black leadership, has taught me that merely having Black faces in positions of power does not guarantee the upliftment of the community. The legacy of leaders like Charles Taylor, who manipulated the promise of liberation for personal and foreign interests, serves as a cautionary tale that resonates deeply with my experiences.
In America, recent actions by the rise of Black billionaires —figures such as Jay-Z and Diddy—have elicited a palpable shock among many, but for me, there is a familiar sense of disillusionment rather than surprise. The discontent surrounding these leaders highlights an unsettling truth: individual success, often celebrated as a hallmark of entrepreneurial achievement, does not equate to communal liberation. While their journeys are often framed as success stories, they raise pressing questions about accountability and the responsibilities to the community of those who rise to prominence.
Take Jay-Z, for instance. In his deal with the NFL following the Colin Kaepernick protests, many saw hope that Jay-Z, one of modern America’s rise of powerful and visible Black billionaires, would carry the torch for justice, bring change to a powerful institution, and elevate the conversation about race and police brutality. But when Jay-Z said, “We’ve moved past kneeling,” it hit a nerve. For years, activists had risked everything to shine a light on systemic racism and police violence, and the movement was still very much alive and in need of direction. Rather than standing with the movement or offering a way forward, Jay-Z’s partnership with the NFL felt like a manipulation, a way of redirecting grassroots efforts into a corporate structure where real change was unlikely. Jay-Z’s partnership with the NFL, which he positioned as a move toward social justice, feels disingenuous given the NFL’s historical silence on police brutality despite profiting from talent from communities deeply affected by such issues.
Jay-Z’s Roc Nation is part of the problem, an organization whose acclaimed mission is ‘… supporting careers in every aspect of modern entertainment. Roc Nation’s role in selecting performers for the Super Bowl halftime show has raised eyebrows, particularly with the exclusion of prominent artists like Lil Wayne and 50 Cent, who hold legendary input into shaping the modern sound of hip-hop. 50 Cent claimed that Roc Nation tried to exclude him from the 2022 Super Bowl halftime show, stating “They didn’t want me there” and was only included because Eminem insisted on his participation. This trend suggests that Roc Nation prioritizes strategic partnerships over authentic representation in its choices.
Additionally, allegations have surfaced that Roc Nation stifled Jennifer Lopez during the Super Bowl, preventing her from voicing critical opinions about the border crisis. Nicki Minaj has also claimed that Roc Nation undermined her during the Grammys, illustrating a troubling pattern where the actions of these “power brokers for the people” compromise the voices they should be amplifying.
Meanwhile, Diddy is facing a lawsuit alleging he offered a Grammy in exchange for sexual favors, exposing a dark undercurrent of manipulation within the industry. These dynamics raise serious questions about whether personal success can truly lead to systemic change, prompting skepticism about the intentions behind such power plays on a brokered deal that was supposed to uplift and increase representation.
While these betrayals might appear to be minor grievances in the glamorous world of A-listers, as a human rights attorney, I understand that their experiences likely represent just the tip of the iceberg. These instances are a form of whistleblowing, shedding light on the deeper inequities and harm faced by those within their sphere of influence who cannot speak out as other celebrities can. It’s a stark reminder that while we may celebrate individual achievements, true liberation, and empowerment require a commitment to collective well-being that transcends personal ambition.
The reality is clear: when power is wielded solely for individual gain, it can fracture the movements that strive for social change. Liberation cannot be defined by the successes of a few; it must be rooted in the solidarity and collective action of the entire community. We must hold our leaders accountable to this standard, ensuring that their influence contributes to the greater good rather than serving as a vehicle for personal advancement. Systemic change requires a commitment to dismantling the very structures that uphold inequality and a recognition that true justice is about collective liberation, not selective elevation. We cannot afford to trade people-powered movements for false promises of institutional change. We must demand more from our leaders—celebrity or otherwise—and refuse to let anyone define justice for us.
