Building My Own "F U Lane"

The math doesn’t math, unless you understand what “brand safe” really means.

In 2020, when I was a new creator with less than 10,000 followers and a habit of saying loud, political shit in big bold letters online, brands were banging down my door to work with me.

Now? I’ve been told I’m not “brand safe.”

It all started in the peak Black squares era, when cell phone footage reshaped our collective reality, however briefly. We watched the murder of Black men and women in high definition from the comfort of our own homes.

I remember feeling almost detached as I struggled to process violence that was so visible again and again, perpetrated against folks who looked like me, like my neighbors, like my cousins.

People were called to action. We marched. We cried. We screamed in outrage at an America that did not live up to its ideals, to its dream.

Brands also answered the call.

Capitalism is a fundamental part of our doctrine in the US, almost a collective religion. So of course corporate America would try to ride the wave of America’s awakening… with money.

Money that largely never materialized. Billions pledged and then quietly rolled back. Programs stood up and canceled. Partnerships inked and executed, but just for one quick time, never to be repeated again.

I benefitted from that wave.

The work that I had been doing quietly was suddenly thrust onto a much larger stage. Fortune 500 companies tapped me to lead rollouts. I became the face of programs giving away hundreds of thousands to Black-owned businesses. I inked a book deal on Black foodways.

My life changed almost overnight.

Anela in 2020

I was lucky.

I had very little entrepreneurial knowledge but a willingness to lose sleep and fail repeatedly. A stable home allowed me to take some risks. Feed The Malik went from a hobby I never intended to make money with to a profitable business in 3 months flat.

I also figured the largesse and open-mindedness of the 2020 era wouldn’t last. And with that calculation, I got even luckier.

There was no fucking way Delta Airlines and Discover Card were going to keep hiring an outspoken Black woman with piercings, tattoos, and a small platform (in relative social media terms).

I launched a Patreon, even though I had no clue how to sell to my audience. I sent emails that went nowhere. Tried and failed with physical products. Cried on the internet when my life blew up. Moved. Moved again. Failed again.

Five years later, I’ve created what a friend calls an “F U lane.”

Today, about 50% of my revenue does not come from brand deals. Enough that if everything dried up tomorrow, I could cut my salary, fire my assistant, cut expenses, and survive for 6-7 months.

And I’m right on time. Because the pendulum swung back, and I am no longer brand safe.

“Safety” is a negotiated concept. In the US, so defined by the white gaze, what the reigning pop culture figures, politicians, even memes, collectively tell us is acceptable. Right now playing dumb about eugenics ad campaigns, bold face lying from the White House Press Briefing Room, and arresting and disappearing dissidents is “safe.”

And what’s no longer “safe”?

A belief that trans folks deserve to live with dignity, safety, and health care.

A belief that Palestinians are people, with the same human rights as the rest of us.

A belief that our resources are better spent on combatting climate change and protecting our natural resources than on bombs.

And its not just me. Black women have been the hardest hit in this economy, with more than 300,000 pushed out of the workforce in just 3 months.

It’s terrifying.

My brand partnership revenue this year is on track to be less than 1/2 of what it was in 2020.

This is despite my platform growing 100x since then. Despite the fact I’m a stronger storyteller now, with a proven track record of conversions—the metric brands swear they care about. I have the data. The awards. The receipts.

But I’d rather be a safe space for community than a safe space for brands too afraid of white supremacy to do good business.

So what am I doing about it?

I’m leveraging every connection I have. Pitching. Positioning. Pitching again. Negotiating like my livelihood depends on it. Tracking the numbers so my value is undeniable. Cutting spending where I can.

And I’m doubling down on work I can control, work that keeps me true to my mission: showcasing stories that feed us, places that shape us, and communities that carry us.

I’m consulting, taking my skills in media, marketing, and digital strategy to organizations I believe in, helping them sharpen their game.

Ive finally built a proper sales mechanism for my global recommendations map with hotels, restaurants, activities, all in one place. My team now to updates it every month and keeps it fresh. People ask me for recs in my DMs daily (which I don’t mind), but now there’s an easy, affordable way to actually support that labor. Honestly, I should’ve done this years ago. Paid subscribers already get access.

I’m planning more group trips, using everything I’ve learned from a lifetime of travel to create experiences we’ll share together. These trips bring me so much joy. Seeing a place come alive again through someone else’s eyes is incredibly special. And I need your feedback to help shape them 👀

It’s why we’re crowdfunding for Our Block. Because projects like these won’t survive if we don’t build the runway ourselves.

And I’m digging deeper here on Substack. I promised myself I’d publish every Monday for a year and see just how far I can go with a reader-funded model.

And it’s working. Slowly but surely I’ve built some runway. Thanks to this community, who votes with your time, your dollars, your attention.

And I’m talking my shit way more.

Inspired by Carmen Van Kerckhove of Pack Light Live Full, I’ve been shouting my wins from the rooftops. Because yes, brands may be scared, but the idea of working with a “winner” can tip the scales. It’s why creators who transgress but are consistently viral like Drew Afualo have red carpet status even though they break the rules.

“It girls” get to break the rules. And I may never be an it girl, but I’ll figure it out. Of that I’m sure.

Reality Check: What We’re Really Asking Of Creators

Despite all of the above, I don’t actually feel much of anything about creators who stay silent on issues that matter to me.

I’ve spent five years grinding to build a runway, not even true independence from brands (yet), but a limited runway. And I can take more risks because I don’t have kids. No mortgage. Nobody depending on me but me (and my very real need for health insurance). If I had mouths to feed, I would make different choices.

Most of us aren’t risking our paychecks, our jobs, or our security to speak our minds either. Yet we expect freelancers to do it for us? I think we’re being a bit hypocritical in that sense.

Anyway, fuck Donald Trump.

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And don’t forget, American Soul debuts this week!

Come meet me on tour and celebrate the launch of American Soul: The Black History of Food in the United States.

Multiple events have sold out (or are on the verge), but tickets are still available for the below:

September 10: An intimate book talk at Bold Fork Books in DC!

September 13: Caribbean meets Soul brunch at Platform by the James Beard Foundation in New York City!

September 19: Book, bites, and a party in Detroit, MI!

September 21: In conversation at Lorem Ipsum in Charlotte, NC!