We Don't Need Another Podcast: Black Men and the Summer of Self
We Don’t Need Another Podcast: Black Men And The Summer Of Self
I was recently asked to participate in a podcast. I declined.
It’s not that I’m too good for a podcast or any negative sentiment. It’s just that there are way too many Black men out here right now with them hip-shooting hot takes instead of honing in on healing.
Look, I get it. A homey just wants to be heard. We want our takes respected, our life stories understood, and our pain acknowledged. And in a world that constantly silences us—on the job, in our families, in the broader social construct—it makes sense that so many Black men have turned to whatever version of a mic they can find, metaphorically or literally. That mic might be an actual podcast, a string of social media posts, or just always needing to be the loudest one at the cookout.
I mean, look at me. NewsOne has made me a multi-hundredaire for my voice.
But here’s a wild idea: what if this summer wasn’t about being heard? What if it were about listening to yourself?
2025 is the summer of doing things that are for you. Things that don’t require validation, likes, or audience engagement. Because, truth be told, you don’t need another reason to explain yourself to the world. You need something that feeds you. Something selfish in the best possible way.
We live in a time when hustle culture is loud, algorithm-chasing is the norm, and every hobby seems like it should end in a merch line. But what if we rejected that? What if we said no to the content grind and yes to leisure? Not just rest, but intentional, joyful, non-performative leisure? That’s the thesis. That’s the move.
So instead of searching for a spotlight, here are a few homeboy hobbies that you might want to pick up this summer. They don’t require followers or a platform — just your time and your willingness to suck at something new.
Golf: Where Your Only Competitor Is Gravity
You ever want to take a six-hour walk while occasionally getting irrationally mad at a ball? Golf is for you. It’s not about being good. It’s about being away. From responsibilities. From noise. From expectations. It’s six hours of thinking you might be Tiger Woods in 1997, only to end up looking like that Tiger Woods mugshot from 2019.
Give yourself permission to be trash at it.
Because you can’t be a bad employee, father, brother, AND golfer. Pick one. Golf has zero real-life consequences. If you end up in the sand trap or your ball disappears into a pond, no one’s calling HR. The most anyone will say is “tough break, bro,” and offer you a Gatorade.
And honestly, golf carts are just tiny convertibles. You deserve a tiny convertible this summer.
Cycling: Cardio with a View
Put some air in those tires, clip in, and ride. It’s the closest thing to flying without TSA. It’s just you, the road, and whatever playlist you’ve been meaning to catch up on. You can ride through neighborhoods you never noticed, get to know yourself through the rhythm of the pedals, and maybe even join a Black cycling club that rolls deep like a leather-clad Wakandan peloton.
Cycling forces you into presence. You can’t doomscroll while dodging potholes. You’re in it, sweating it out, chasing the next hill. And that sense of movement, of physical forward motion, is a great metaphor for getting unstuck mentally.
Gardening: Growth You Can Taste
You want to feel like a god? Grow something. Tomatoes. Peppers. Herbs. Hell, grow a dandelion if it makes you feel good. You’ll learn patience, humility, and the value of nurturing something without demanding instant results.
Gardening is a slow magic. It teaches you to shut up and let nature handle it. Water. Wait. Watch. If you need an existential flex, know that you’re literally cultivating life from dirt. And if someone asks what you’re doing, just say you’re “reclaiming ancestral relationships with the land.” Boom: nurturing and rebellious.
Also, there’s something deeply satisfying about walking into your kitchen, grabbing a scotch bonnet you grew, and tossing it into a pan like you’re starring in your own cooking show. The ancestors would approve.
Pickleball: Competitive Cardio with Compliments
Pickleball is ping-pong’s bigger, louder cousin with a petty streak. It’s low impact, high reward, and comes with an automatic community of folks who are just out there trying to have a good time and get some steps in.
It’s the perfect mix of “I’m doing cardio” and “I’m going to argue over a line call like it’s Wimbledon.” And because it’s new to a lot of people and there’s no league to aspire to join, no one expects you to be a professional. You can fumble your serve, miss the ball entirely, and still get dap after the match because you were out there doing you.
And doing you is the whole point.
Drone Flying: High Tech, Low Stakes
You ever want to feel like a kid and a Bond villain at the same time? Fly a drone. There’s no moral to this one, it’s just fun. Get out in nature, take some cool aerial footage, and pretend like you’re scouting locations for your next heist or music video.
Joy doesn’t need a justification. You can fly the thing, crash it into a tree, laugh, and go home. Nobody’s grading you. Nobody’s retweeting it. It’s just you and the sky.
Plus, if you really want to flex, upload your best drone footage to a Google Drive and send it to your guys like, “Flying over yo’ mom’s house now!”
The Bigger Idea: Reclaiming Joy Without Monetizing It
These hobbies are more than distractions. They’re reclamation tools. They’re about flipping the script on what it means to be a Black man in a hyper-visible, hyper-judged, performative world.
We’ve been told our value lies in our output; our labor, our takes, our presence, our protection. And yet, this summer is asking us to stop producing and start being.
You don’t need to monetize your healing. You don’t need to brand your bliss. What you need is space to explore who you are when no one else is watching. To mess up, to try again, to not be great at something but still love it anyway.
Because for Black men, there’s a sacredness in freedom. Freedom from judgment. Freedom from responsibility, even if only for a few hours. Freedom from always needing to make it make sense.
Imagine waking up on a Saturday, not to do a thing for someone else, but to go to Home Depot and get a new trowel. Just for you. Because your basil is looking promising. Or waking up early for a solo ride around the lake with Ghotstface in your headphones and no one asking what you’re thinking about.
That’s not corny. That’s revolutionary.
This is how you reclaim your time. This is how you center your joy. This is how you stop being the podcast—the endless stream of thoughts and commentary for public consumption—and start being the listener. Of your body. Your peace. Your desires. Your boredom.
You’ve earned the right to be joyfully mediocre. Not everything has to be a flex. Not everything has to be content. Some of it can just be for you.
And if you’re still tempted to start a podcast this summer, just record yourself describing your garden to a friend over the phone. That’s the real content. That’s the real mic drop.
So here’s to the summer of self. The summer of new hobbies, earned peace, intentional selfishness, and growth with no pressure. Because the only voice you need to hear right now is your own, telling you: you’re allowed to just be.
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