During my life as an entrepreneur in this country, the last few months have been a challenge unlike anything I have witnessed. Through a series of decisions and bad steps by the local and federal government so many of our people have lost their lives, businesses and livelihood.

We did not produce an issue of YBE for April because I needed time to figure out what has to be said. What do you need to hear right now and what would help you as an Black entrepreneur in this new-old America.

It is always my intent to provide information that can help those who consume our words and trust in our mission. There is a great deal of thought and work that goes into each issue of YBE Magazine. I sincerely want you to win as business owners in this very troublesome climate where hard and honest work will not always get you in the door.

As a community, we will have to see each other in a new light for us to survive and eventually thrive. The things that worked a decade ago will not work today. The things that worked last year will not work today. We will have to be more creative, limber and skillful for us to save our businesses. Hopefully within these pages, you will get the inspiration you need to fight a smarter more strategic fight. We have to evolve, there are no other choices on the table. Evolve and get smarter about how you run your business. The calvary isn’t coming. Look in the mirror. You are the calvary.

Executive Creative Director

Editorial Director

Executive Creative Director
"During her news conference today, I asked Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms, that despite Atlanta's national spotlight and reputation as the "Black Mecca - coupled with her political prominence on national news programs - don't the "Water Boy's" controversy and the thousands of renters facing eviction reveal that we truly are a "Tale of Two Cities".

"Yes, because of income inequality," Bottoms readily admits, "Atlanta has long been a 'Tale of Two Cities'! It's a perennial issue that remains a reality," the Mayor laments.

What say you? Join us for a riveting and robust debate about the widening gap between Atlanta's "Haves and Have Not's!" - Maynard Eaton
Readers — and prospective voters — need context and subjects need dignity when they are vulnerable.
Sally SatelOpinion contributor
We are proud to announce that the inaugural online event will be honoring Gallery Artist RICHARD MAYHEW as the 2020 Artist of the Year. 

At a time when we can't gather in person, HVAF’s digital event is a way for us to still connect with art and to each other, providing as close to an authentic experience as possible.

This is your invite to log into the most cutting edge, widest ranging and dynamic marketplace of important artworks ever presented in the Hamptons. We are excited to be one of the more than sixty National and International Galleries invited to showcase post-war and contemporary art.

The  Fair  will take place over Labor Day weekend (September 2–7) with an online VIP Preview from July 23–26. The fair will be open for business 24 hours, round the clock, from July 23 at 12 pm to July 26 at 8 pm.  To register for VIP and general access, please  CLICK HERE! 

The VIP Sneak Peek starts JULY 23 at 12 pm to July 26. 
The  Hamptons Virtual Art Fair  will officially go live with an expanded list of exhibitors to an international audience of art enthusiasts and collectors on Labor Day weekend, September 2-7.

The fair is presented in an eye-catching 3D virtual reality video setting, so you perceive the size, relationship, and the aura of the piece with the necessary perspective to make decisions. 

With prices ranging from $4,000 to the millions, you’ll uncover eye-popping "must have" treasures for every budget level. It’s the widest range of hi-caliber curated artworks ever offered in the Hamptons, with over $100 million in art for sale. From well-respected, emerging artists and renowned mid-career pros, to the blue-chip masters, it is a rare opportunity to acquire pieces never offered previously in the Hamptons. 
72" x 48"
Mixed Media
Fine Art by  Okeeba Jubalo
Represented by

I can recall my 1980s Saturday evenings as a young boy growing up in Charleston, South Carolina. Saturdays always started with cleaning the house from top to bottom, while my dad washed the cars and cut the grass. I was responsible for keeping my bedroom clean and doing the other duties my dad would assign to me. It ranged from scrubbing the car tires to bagging up the grass or leaves, depending on the time of year.

After the inside of our house was spotless- smelling like PineSol, the cars had a showroom shine, and our grass was freshly manicured my mom would head to the market for groceries. My dad prepared for his Saturday evening activities with his ‘partnas' and I was allowed to hang out with my ‘partnas’ in my neighborhood. My outdoor activities always came to an end with the awakening of the streetlights. No questions, I had to come home.

After putting my bike up in the back shed I would always come through the backdoor of the house which led directly into the kitchen. Like clockwork, the smell of cooked hair filled the air. My sister’s long and dark chocolate body sat in a chair near the stove by the window. My mom perched over her, straightening her hair for church on Sunday. The smoke circled around my sister’s head and every once and again my sister would scream, “Mama! My ear! My neck! My forehead!”

Though my mama was very good at this process of “laying those naps down,” nobody was perfect. I would imagine it is nearly impossible to sit perfectly still as your mama burned through all of your natural self with a hot comb. My mama would then reach for the butter tray and would apply some warm butter to my sister’s scorched ears or burnt body parts. I can remember thinking to myself, “Why and hell are they going through this?” The answer, it was just a part of what we did as Black folks to get ‘pretty.’ Honestly I didn’t have any real interest in watching my sister get her hair done or get ‘pretty’, I just liked to hang around to watch her ears, neck or forehead get burnt.

Fast forward to now in 2020. Me as a Black Artist. Me as a grown Black Man who knows why my sister got her body parts cooked as a means to get ‘pretty.’ Me who fully understands my surroundings. The why and how of America. What does this piece of Fine Art mean to me? It means honesty and transparency about my narrative.

The spear at the center of this piece speaks to the fighting nature of who we were as an African people and through a series of calculated steps we had to abandon that fight for the hot comb. Trying to blend into a society that truly never saw us as humans. We were aways seen as things, savages, animals who needed to be ruled over by those ‘civilized humans’ who murdered, looted, raped, stole, enslaved and lied their way into power in America. That hot comb. That shining tool that would help us to get closer to perfection and looking ‘pretty’ for those who would never admit how ‘pretty’ we really are. That hot comb, would help us to become ‘citizens in America.’

As you get closer to Woodensteel you will see Bible pages serving as a backdrop for this tale of Black folks seeking clarity and forgiveness in our complicated America. How many Black daughters cried and screamed as their ears, necks and foreheads got burnt on Saturday nights as their mamas and grandmamas prepared them to get ‘pretty’ for Sunday worship? Looking closer at the painting you will see the ropes intertwined across this visual narrative as they speak to our trying relationships with our country’s hypocritical religious dogma. Tied and bound to a sinking ship where our civil rights have yet to truly show up to save the day.

You don’t get anymore ‘American’ than denim. The denim represents the raging and brutal waters of capitalism rushing in from all corners. We struggle to continue to assimilate into a country ran by those who have never seen my people as people. We are things. We are tools. We are animals. We are savages. We are not ‘pretty.’ So they think.
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