Blog – Page 2 of 37

37 at 37: Lessons from a Year That Humbled Me, Grew Me, and Set Me Free

2 months ago By cumeadi

I turned 37 today. A strange number — not quite a milestone in the eyes of the world, but for me, it feels like one.

In the last 12 months, I’ve been broken open and put back together more times than I can count. Leaving Google stripped away the illusion of security. A divorce ended something I thought was forever. And a handful of other moments forced me to sit with myself in ways I hadn’t dared to before.

But through all that, I didn’t just survive. I lived. And maybe for the first time, I lived in a way I’m proud of. Not because everything was polished or perfect, but because it was honest.

Here are 37 lessons I’ve learned. They are not commandments. They’re reminders — from one soul in progress to another.

1. Grief and gratitude can coexist.

Some days I cried for what I lost. Other days I was overwhelmed with awe at the life I still get to live. I used to think you had to “get over” pain before you could feel thankful. But the truth is, some of the deepest gratitude I’ve ever felt came while my heart was still cracked wide open.

2. You’re allowed to start over, even in the middle of your life.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve already built something. If it’s no longer right for you, you can walk away. You’re not obligated to keep living a life that doesn’t fit just because it took you a long time to build.

3. Money is important, but time, peace, and purpose are richer currencies.

After the layoff, I realized I’d been using income as a proxy for success. But what I really wanted was freedom — to think, to heal, to create without fear. Money buys comfort, yes. But peace? That’s earned through alignment.

4. Therapy is not optional. It’s maintenance for your soul.

I don’t know how I would’ve made it through this year without therapy. It gave me language for what I was feeling and space to feel it. Your car needs a mechanic. Your spirit needs a witness.

5. A broken heart is proof you were brave enough to love.

I used to be ashamed of my heartbreak. But now I see it differently. A broken heart doesn’t mean you failed — it means you were courageous enough to open it in the first place.

6. Forgiveness doesn’t mean reconciliation.

I learned to release people in love — to let them go without needing to bring them back. Some closures are silent. Some peace happens without a reunion.

7. Walk. Often. Alone. Without a destination.

Walking became sacred to me this year. It was a space where I could listen to my thoughts without distraction. I started noticing trees, the shape of clouds, the feel of my breath — and I started noticing myself again.

8. Your job is not your identity.

When I left Google, I felt like I lost part of myself. But over time, I realized that identity should be rooted in essence, not employment. You’re more than your LinkedIn bio.

9. Some friendships expire. That’s not betrayal. That’s seasons.

People change. You change. Some bonds strengthen with time, others fade. That’s not failure. That’s nature. Not everyone is meant to walk the whole road with you.

10. Joy is a muscle — the more you use it, the stronger it gets.

At first, joy felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. But when I made space for small joys — music, dancing in the kitchen, laughing with friends — they began to stitch me back together.

11. Your body remembers everything your mind tries to forget.

I held so much stress in my shoulders, my gut, my chest. Our bodies are storytellers, even when our mouths are quiet. I had to learn to listen to it, care for it, and stop ignoring its whispers.

12. You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone.

Not through productivity. Not through perfection. Not through hustle. You were worthy the day you were born. Everything else is just performance.

13. Be kind to younger you. They were surviving with the tools they had.

I used to cringe at past versions of myself. Now, I try to hold them in compassion. That person did the best they could. You’re here because they didn’t quit.

14. You can be both healing and high-functioning.

I didn’t fall apart every day. I still showed up. But inside, I was healing — slowly, awkwardly, sometimes painfully. That duality is real. Let’s stop pretending it’s either/or.

15. Love is not a transaction.

It’s not something you earn by being perfect or doing things right. Real love is given, not bartered. And when it’s real, it doesn’t keep score.

16. Boundaries aren’t walls. They’re doors with locks you control.

Boundaries taught me who deserved access and who didn’t. Saying no protected the yeses that matter most.

17. Ask for help. No one makes it out of this thing alone.

I used to think independence was strength. But vulnerability — saying “I need you” — is actually braver. Let people in. Let them show up.

18. Rest is productive.

Some of my best ideas came after naps. Some of my deepest healing came from staying in bed. We are not machines. We are soil — we need stillness to regenerate.

19. When in doubt, go outside.

The world inside your head is sometimes a trap. The world outside — the sky, the trees, the wind — it reminds you that life keeps going, and you can too.

20. You’re not behind. You’re on your own damn timeline.

Comparison is poison. Everyone’s journey is customized. The sooner you stop measuring your life against others, the freer you become.

21. Create something that doesn’t need to go viral.

Not everything has to be seen. Some things are worth doing just because they make you feel alive. Paint. Write. Build. Make.

22. Talk to your parents like people.

They carry regrets too. They have stories. Seeing them as full, flawed humans changed everything for me.

23. Not everything broken needs to be fixed.

Some things are meant to fall apart. Some endings are mercies. Let them be.

24. Drink more water. Seriously.

It sounds dumb. But when I was sad, tired, foggy — water helped. Sometimes what feels like an existential crisis is just dehydration.

25. Love people while they’re here.

Call them. Visit them. Tell them the truth. Don’t wait for the eulogy to write your love letter.

26. Solitude isn’t loneliness.

I learned to enjoy my own company. To make meals for myself. To be enough, without needing to be surrounded.

27. You can be proud of surviving and still be sad it happened.

I made it through things I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I don’t romanticize the pain — but I honor the endurance.

28. Say “I don’t know” more often.

We don’t always need answers. We need curiosity, humility, and the courage to keep asking better questions.

29. You don’t always need a plan. Just a step.

Some of my best moves weren’t mapped out. I just took the next step, then the next one. Direction reveals itself.

30. Silence is an answer.

So is distance. So is inconsistency. Believe what people show you, not just what they say.

31. Fall in love with your morning.

I started waking up early not out of discipline, but desire. Mornings became sacred — a place to hear myself before the world got loud.

32. Nobody knows what they’re doing.

We’re all winging it. The ones who look like they have it together are just rehearsing their own script. You’re doing better than you think.

33. Success feels different at 37 than it did at 27.

I don’t chase clout anymore. I chase calm. I want meaningful work, not just impressive titles.

34. Your worth doesn’t decrease when your relationship status changes.

Being single isn’t a deficiency. It’s just another way to be whole.

35. Hold space for joy — even in the mess.

Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Find joy in the cracks. It belongs there too.

36. Tell people you love them. Even if your voice shakes.

Don’t assume they know. Say it. Say it often. Say it out loud.

37. You’re still becoming.

I thought I’d be “figured out” by now. But I’m still unfolding, evolving, softening, growing. And honestly? That’s the best part.

If you’re reading this, thank you for being here.

Here’s to being 37 — not perfect, not finished, but fully alive.

Behind the Velvet Rope: The Rise of Youth-Driven Social Clubs in Lagos

2 months ago By cumeadi

How a new wave of social clubs in Lagos mirrors global shifts in third spaces, exclusivity, and the psychology of belonging.

Introduction: Something’s Changing in Lagos

On a recent return to Lagos, something felt different. Beneath the surface of the city’s usual bustle—tech conferences, gallery shows, rooftop brunches—there was a quieter transformation taking place. Discreetly, new social clubs were emerging. Not the old-guard kind with blazers and brandy. These were intimate, design-forward spaces that attracted a different crowd: 25 to 40-somethings with sneakers, strategy decks, and a soft spot for natural wine.

It wasn’t just a vibe shift. It was cultural infrastructure being rebuilt in real time. And interestingly, Lagos might be ahead of the curve here—outpacing similar movements happening in London, New York, and Johannesburg.

A Brief History of Belonging: From Pre-Colonial to Post-Modern

Long before modern clubs, West African societies were structured around guilds, age-grade systems, and secret societies that doubled as community centers, spiritual hubs, and informal networks of influence. The Yoruba Ogboni society, for instance, was both sacred and civic—a fusion of ritual, power, and social cohesion.

Then came colonialism, and with it, British-style social clubs—designed for expatriates, later adapted for Nigerian elites. The Ikoyi Club (1938) and the Lagos Motor Boat Club (est. 1950s) became symbols of post-colonial status, complete with golf tees, international tennis, and Scotch-soaked diplomacy. They were exclusive in the traditional sense: formal, generational, and heavily male.

But the world has changed. The idea of belonging has evolved. And so has Lagos.

Why Now?

Across cities worldwide, “third places”—the neutral zones between home and work—are disappearing. Churches are less frequented. Cafés have turned into Zoom hubs. Gyms feel impersonal. People are craving something more human, more intimate, more intentional.

In Lagos, that craving is intensified by the pace and pressure of urban hustle. Enter the modern social club: a curated space for Lagos’s creative class, startup crowd, and culture heads to gather, decompress, and quietly flex.

These aren’t just new nightlife options—they’re sites of identity construction. They serve as both refuge and runway for a generation negotiating local roots and global fluency.

Psychology, Exclusivity & Soft Status

Modern club culture operates on soft power—not who you are, but who you seem to be. The art on the walls, the playlists, the bar menu—these are all semiotic markers in a new form of status signaling. In Lagos, where class and identity are often inherited, these clubs offer a new, more performative—and sometimes more accessible—path to cultural capital.

But there’s a psychological layer too: these spaces function as refuges. For a generation burnt out by constant hustle and the hyper-visibility of social media, they offer intimacy, discretion, and self-definition on one’s own terms.

Curation as the New Hospitality

What makes these clubs unique isn’t the food or the drinks—it’s the intent. Every element is curated to attract a specific kind of person: creative but focused, expressive but serious, local with global fluency. You’re not just going out—you’re entering a room that affirms the version of yourself you’re trying to become.

This echoes a global hospitality shift, where the product is no longer a place or service—but a vibe, a story, a scene. Clubs aren’t just selling access; they’re selling meaning.

But Who Gets In? The Double-Edged Sword

Of course, with curation comes gatekeeping. Membership often requires referrals. Dues aren’t cheap. Aesthetics lean a certain direction. As with their global counterparts, the Lagos scene must reckon with questions of access and representation.

Can these spaces scale without losing their soul? Can they democratize without diluting? If they can answer those questions, they might become more than hotspots. They could be blueprints for a new kind of urban community infrastructure.

Conclusion: Lagos Leading Quietly

Lagos has always held the tension between spectacle and subtlety, chaos and code. The rise of youth-driven social clubs reflects a city—and a generation—in flux. These new spaces aren’t replacing tradition; they’re remixing it. Blending pre-colonial community spirit, colonial club structure, and post-modern identity politics into something that feels… timely.

As cities across the world rethink how we gather, Lagos offers a compelling case study in quiet leadership. If the third space is being redefined globally, Lagos is already living in the future.

startups · Technology · venture capital

What They Don’t Tell You About Launching & Scaling a Startup

2 months ago By cumeadi

Over the years, I’ve launched companies, advised others, raised capital, missed signals, hired wrong, scaled too fast, pivoted too late—and learned a few things in the process. Recently, I had the chance to give a guest lecture at Harvard on what it really takes to launch and scale a startup.

Here’s a condensed version of what I shared—less theory, more scar tissue.

1. The Myth of the Perfect Idea

Most people wait too long to start, thinking they need the idea. Truth is, your first idea probably isn’t the one that works. And that’s okay.

The founders of YouTube started with a dating site. Slack came out of a failed video game. Airbnb got rejected by dozens of investors before the world caught up.

Great companies don’t emerge from perfect ideas—they emerge from persistent founders who are obsessed with a small, overlooked problem and are willing to listen, adapt, and evolve quickly.

Start small. Start obsessed. Start anyway.

2. Validation Isn’t What You Think It Is

Early-stage founders often mistake interest for intent. A friend says, “I’d totally use that!” or a customer replies, “Let me know when it’s live!”

That’s not validation.

Real validation looks like time, money, effort—commitment. A pre-order. A referral. A workaround. If someone is solving the problem without you, that’s a signal.

Build scrappy prototypes. Get real feedback. Watch what people do, not what they say.

3. Your Job is to Be a Signal Processor

In the early days, everything feels like noise. Metrics are small. Feedback is conflicting. You’re constantly wondering, “Is this a real insight or just noise?”

The best founders develop a kind of radar—they can sense patterns early. They don’t just listen to feedback, they decode it. They don’t overreact to every data point, but they don’t ignore smoke either.

Learn fast. Move fast. Let your ego get out of the way of the signal.

4. Your Role Will Keep Changing

The skills that get you from zero to one are not the same skills that get you to ten.

At first, you’re the builder, designer, marketer, customer support—all of it. But if you’re growing, your job becomes less about doing and more about enabling.

Suddenly, you’re managing people. Then managing managers. Then setting vision, hiring execs, shaping culture.

Every six months, your calendar should look different. And if you don’t actively evolve, your startup will outgrow you.

5. Hiring Is Where Startups Break

Startups don’t die from competition—they die from internal drag. And most of that drag comes from hiring the wrong people.

At the early stage, a bad hire isn’t a setback—it’s a time bomb.

Look for ownership mindset, adaptability, and speed of learning. Hire people who run toward problems, not away from them. And remember: culture isn’t what you say—it’s what you tolerate.

6. Distribution > Product

A great product without a distribution strategy is a tree falling in a forest.

Founders love to build—but often neglect how the product will reach the customer. Distribution isn’t just ads. It’s strategy, channels, timing, partnerships, communities.

Ask yourself early:

Who needs this right now?
Where do they hang out?
What do they already trust?
How will they find out about you?

Don’t just find product-market fit. Find product-channel fit.

7. Founder Psychology Is 80% of the Game

No one talks enough about the emotional cost of building something from scratch.

The highs are high, the lows are existential. You’ll doubt yourself constantly. You’ll pour everything into something that most people won’t understand for a long time.

Protect your mental health. Build a tribe of other builders. Get outside your own head. Journal. Reflect. Don’t fuse your identity with your startup—it’s not you, it’s a thing you’re building.

8. Fundraising Is a Game of Narrative and Status

Raising money isn’t just about traction or spreadsheets—it’s about story, timing, and social proof.

Warm intros beat cold emails. FOMO beats logic. Being the 5th meeting in a week beats being the 1st in a month.

VCs are in the pattern recognition business. Your job is to become a pattern they can recognize—without losing your authenticity.

It’s a game. Know the rules. But don’t let them define you.

9. Luck Is Real (But You Can Make More of It)

Yes, talent and execution matter. But so does timing. So does luck.

Survivorship bias is everywhere. Many great founders didn’t “fail”—they just didn’t get lucky enough.

You can’t control luck, but you can create more surface area for it:

Publish your journey
Show up where collisions happen
Help others before asking for anything

Luck favors the visible. The curious. The consistent.

10. Your Real Advantage: Speed of Learning

At the end of the day, startups don’t win because they know more. They win because they learn faster.

The best founders build tight learning loops:
Build → Measure → Learn → Adjust → Repeat

They get feedback quickly. They don’t fall in love with their own ideas. They evolve with the market—not against it.

If you’re learning faster than the competition, you’re winning—even if it doesn’t look like it yet.

Parting Thoughts

I closed my Harvard talk with three things I hope every founder remembers:

3 Hard Truths:

No one cares about your startup until you succeed—get over it.
Most of your assumptions are wrong—prove them fast.
Building is easy. Focus is hard. Focus wins.

3 Mantras That Helped Me:

Strong opinions, loosely held
Default to action
Be relentlessly curious

One Ask:

If you’re thinking about launching—start.
Not when it’s perfect. Not when you’re “ready.”
Start where you are, with what you know, and with who you are.

That’s how every story begins.

Want help applying any of these ideas to your startup? Feel free to reach out or drop me a note—I always love hearing what people are building.

Africa · Big Ideas · Current Events

Beyond Investment Access: The Deeper Struggles of African Women in Business

2 months ago By cumeadi

This essay could not have been written without honoring the countless women who’ve shared their stories with me. I appreciate and thank you for sharing these stories in the hopes we can all learn from their experiences.

Every International Women’s Day, we see the same headlines: “Invest in women,” “Support women-led businesses,” “Close the gender gap.” And while these messages are important, they barely scratch the surface of what African women entrepreneurs are actually up against.

As a man who has spent years in business across the continent, I want to say something that often goes unsaid on days like this: The biggest obstacle many African women face in business isn’t just a lack of investment — it’s men. Men like me. Men in boardrooms, in funding meetings, on the other side of the negotiation table. Men who hold power and know it — and sometimes abuse it.

If we’re going to be honest this International Women’s Day, we need to talk about how the deeper power dynamics and gender culture in Africa make it almost impossible for women to do business without navigating moral and personal dangers — dangers that go far beyond the usual “empowerment” slogans.

The Reality Beyond the Hashtags

We love to talk about African women as the backbone of our economies — and that’s true. Across agriculture, trade, tech, and creative industries, women are building, innovating, and leading. But what doesn’t get enough attention is what happens when these women enter male-dominated business spaces.

Many women I know — women I’ve worked with, mentored, and watched grow — have had to face a hidden set of rules that men in business don’t talk about but know are there.

They walk into a room prepared to discuss a contract or pitch for funding, only to realize the conversation has terms and conditions that are never spoken out loud — until much later.

“We should talk over dinner.”
“You know, I can make this happen, but…”
“You’re very beautiful. Let’s do business — and more.”

For many women, getting a seat at the table often comes with an unspoken price — a price men never have to pay.

Why “Access to Investment” Isn’t the Full Story

So yes, women need access to funding. But what we don’t talk about is what women have to endure to access that funding in the first place.

How many women have walked away from deals because they refused to “play the game”?
How many women have compromised themselves because they had no other option?
How many brilliant businesses have died before they could grow because a woman chose her dignity over a contract?

These are the questions we aren’t asking on International Women’s Day — but we should be.

It’s not enough to say “invest in women” if we’re not also fixing the corrupt, exploitative systems that make women vulnerable to begin with.

How African Culture Fuels the Problem

This isn’t just about individual bad actors — it’s about a system.

In many African cultures, women are still expected to be “submissive,” to “know their place,” and to defer to men. When a woman is confident, assertive, and driven, she is seen as “too much.” And when she says “no” to inappropriate advances, she is labeled “difficult” or “ungrateful.”

So, even when women get into the room, they are forced to navigate deeply entrenched gender biases that see them as sexual objects before they are seen as entrepreneurs.

And as men, we are often the enforcers of this system, whether we realize it or not.

Why Men Need to Take Responsibility — Especially Now

So on a day like International Women’s Day, it’s not enough for men to post quotes about women’s strength or to say, “we celebrate women today.”

We have to ask ourselves hard questions:

How do we treat women when they walk into a business meeting?
What do we say when other men make inappropriate comments or demands?
Do we make it easier or harder for women to succeed based on merit?
Are we offering opportunities with no strings attached — or are we gatekeeping access to power?

If we want to celebrate women’s economic power, we need to confront the ways we, as men, use our power to limit theirs.

What a Real Commitment to Women in Business Looks Like

A real commitment to women entrepreneurs in Africa means:

Creating safe business spaces where women can operate based on merit, not on navigating sexual politics.
Calling out men who abuse their positions — not just privately, but publicly when necessary.
Funding and supporting women-led ventures without attaching expectations beyond professionalism.
Challenging cultural narratives that limit women to secondary roles and demanding that business spaces reflect equality.

Why This Matters for Africa’s Future

If we want to talk about building “Africa’s future” — the one where we are competitive globally, where innovation drives growth, where businesses create real impact — we cannot do that while excluding or exploiting half of our population.

African women are already building the future. The question is whether we, as men, will get out of their way — or continue to be the reason they cannot succeed.

So this International Women’s Day, let’s move beyond empty words.

Let’s ask: What are we doing — as men — to make business safe, fair, and accessible to women?

Because if we can’t answer that question honestly, then all our talk about empowering women is just that — talk.

Education · Learning

Understanding the Igbo Obsession with Building ‘At Home’: A Legacy of Resilience and Cultural Pride

4 months ago By cumeadi

If you’ve ever driven through the villages of Southeastern Nigeria, you’ve likely been struck by the sight of impressive mansions rising from the red earth, many standing quiet for most of the year until their owners return for Christmas or other celebrations. This phenomenon of Igbo people building elaborate homes in their ancestral villages is more than just a display of wealth – it’s a complex story of cultural resilience, historical trauma, and economic adaptation.

The Shadow of History

To understand this cultural practice, we must first acknowledge the deep wounds of the Biafran War (1967-1970). Before the war, Igbo people were widely dispersed across Nigeria, building successful businesses and acquiring properties from Lagos to Kaduna. The war changed everything. In its aftermath, many Igbo families lost everything they had built outside Igboland – businesses, homes, and entire life savings were wiped away through various policies like the “abandoned property” decree.

This mass dispossession created a form of collective trauma that continues to influence how Igbo people think about property and investment today. The lesson learned was clear and painful: investments outside the homeland could vanish overnight.

Building as an Act of Security

When you understand this historical context, the “obsession” with building massive structures in one’s village takes on new meaning. These houses aren’t just homes – they’re fortresses of security, physical manifestations of success that can’t be easily taken away. They represent a form of wealth storage that feels safe, rooted in ancestral land where community ties and shared cultural understanding secure property rights.

Beyond Shelter: The Social Significance

These buildings serve multiple purposes in modern Igbo society:

They’re a concrete legacy for future generations, quite literally set in stone
They serve as gathering places for extended families during festivals and celebrations
They demonstrate success to the community in a culturally acknowledged way
They provide a sense of belonging and connection to ancestral lands

The Economic Paradox

There’s an interesting economic dimension to this practice. While building large houses in villages might not seem like the most rational investment from a purely financial perspective – especially given that these homes often stand empty for much of the year – it makes perfect sense when viewed through the lens of historical experience and cultural values.

Impact on Contemporary Development

This pattern of investment has both positive and challenging implications for development:

Positive Aspects:

Drives rural development and modernization
Creates employment opportunities in villages
Maintains cultural connections across generations
Promotes architectural innovation in rural areas

Challenges:

This can lead to underinvestment in urban areas where people actually live
Might tie up capital in non-productive assets
This can create unsustainable maintenance costs for future generations

Looking Forward

This practice raises important questions for younger generations of Igbo people, especially those in the diaspora. While many understand and respect the historical and cultural reasons behind building “at home,” they’re also grappling with balancing this tradition with modern economic realities.

Yet, the practice persists and evolves. Modern Igbo buildings in villages increasingly incorporate sustainable features and income-generating capabilities. Some are converted into boutique hotels, conference centers, or retirement homes, showing how tradition can adapt to contemporary needs.

Conclusion

The Igbo practice of building substantial homes in their villages is a complex phenomenon that reflects both historical trauma and cultural resilience. It’s a reminder that economic decisions aren’t always driven by pure financial logic – sometimes, they’re deeply rooted in historical experiences and cultural values.

For other Nigerian and African communities, this practice offers interesting insights into how communities can maintain cultural connections while adapting to modern realities. It also raises important questions about investment, development, and the role of traditional practices in contemporary African society.

Understanding this context helps move the conversation beyond simple criticism of “wasteful” building practices to a more nuanced appreciation of how historical experiences shape present-day economic and cultural choices.

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