Unapologetically Me: a memoir
This photo above — I see it in my eyes. The pressure. And yet...
I woke up one morning with the hook already in my head:
"I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do, be what I'm gonna be, be unapologetically me."
At the time, my partner was pregnant. I was staring down major life decisions — not because of the baby, but because of pressure from collaborators and outside voices. People who said they believed in the mission but didn’t always see me. That push toward a more “marketable” version of myself only reminded me of what I already knew: I may not be perfect, but I’m wonderful at being myself.
The song started as a melody — and became a manifesto.
“Unapologetically Me” is about choosing not to shrink. It’s not about ego or avoiding growth; it’s about refusing to carry guilt for needing what I need to feel whole. I don’t have to contort myself to make others comfortable. I don’t have to dim my light to belong.
It was also born of grief. Of seeing people who claimed to care about compassion speak with cruelty toward others who didn’t think like them. That contradiction cut deep — and instead of becoming bitter, I turned inward. I chose to understand myself more clearly, and love myself more honestly.
I wrote this for every version of me that needed it:
the six-year-old Black kid in a new school, the only one who looked like him
the nine-year-old who loved books and never got picked for sports
the teen shouted at by a gym full of adults while teammates stayed silent
the twenty-something learning to live with shame that wasn’t his
the man still learning to forgive a world that didn’t always love him back
This song is a bright point in my debut album’s journey — the halfway mark, the warm sun before we move into deeper waters. It’s joy with a backbone. Grief sewn into the groove. A celebration not despite the struggle, but because of it.
I’ve realized that to ask others to step into themselves fully, I have to do that too. That doesn’t mean everything about me is for public consumption — but it does mean giving enough of myself to make this music mean something. These songs are toe-holds on a wall we’re all climbing.
More than anything, I wanted this song to feel good. To move. To shine. Because joy is a choice. It’s a resistance. It’s a way forward.
Today, I’m releasing this independently. Not for fame. Not for attention. But because I believe this work matters. I believe music can crack open the noise of now and let in something brighter.
So here it is. One song. One message. One step closer to the world I hope my kids inherit.
If you feel it — share it. Not for me, but for anyone still trying to find their way back to themselves.
With gratitude,
— Reverend Doctor
written with the help of AI