A Reflection from Tru Hood
I’m gonna say this once, and I’m leaving it alone.
Chicago, I love you, but I’m disappointed. Tired. Hurt. And honestly… done with the fake love.
We chant “support Black businesses,” we shout “protect Black men,” we scream “unity,” but as soon as the winds change — as soon as rumors fly or opinions spark — y’all flip the script and burn the very bridges you say you’re trying to build.
Let me be clear:
I have no beef with any photographer in this city. I don’t compete with my people — I celebrate them. I support those who support me, and even the ones who don’t. I study their work. I’ve said to myself, “Man, I wish I got that angle,” or “That location was cold — I wish I had gas money to get there.”
But recently, I’ve seen something that broke my spirit. It ain’t about competition anymore — it’s about character assassination. It’s about how we, as a people, are so quick to become judge, jury, and executioner over things we barely understand — especially when it comes to our own.
There’s a brother being dragged through the mud right now. I’m not saying his name — not to protect him, but because if you know, you know. I grew up with this man. I know his spirit. I know his hustle. I’ve never once seen him in the kind of light they’re trying to paint him in now.
And meanwhile, there’s another person — proven to have stolen from people — walking around hands-free like it’s sweet. No headlines. No hate. No smoke.
So tell me: Why is it that the man trying to protect his brand, his name, his family, is the one getting crucified? Why is his integrity on trial?
Why do we, as Black people, gather in the comments section and feed on each other’s downfall like it’s entertainment?
Y’all scream “Black Lives Matter,” until it’s a Black man trying to defend himself.
Y’all scream “support Black business,” until that business sets boundaries or charges what they’re worth.
Y’all scream “protect Black men,” until it’s someone you personally dislike.
Then suddenly, it’s:
“I’m so glad I never worked with him.”
“I knew something was off.”
“He was never that good anyway.”
But those same folks? Just weeks ago, they were in his inbox asking for shoots. Sharing his content. Calling him a “genius.” Trying to ride his wave.
This is why I only work with a certain demographic now. Not because I think I’m better. Not because I’m too good. But because I’m tired of the backstabbing. Tired of the clout-chasing. Tired of seeing real creatives get torn down because they got standards, because they walk with vision, or because they said “no” to somebody.
What I’ve seen these past few weeks? That ain’t just gossip. That’s defamation. That’s trauma. That’s a man with a brand and a family being dragged through the dirt by people who don’t even know the facts.
And even if — God forbid — something did happen? I hope for truth. I hope for healing. I hope for justice. I hope people are restored.
But don’t tell me you care about Black families and then slander a Black father’s name in front of his son.
Don’t tell me you care about the culture and then cancel a man because you’re jealous or bitter or bored.
Because this man — the one y’all hating on — he’s a father. A provider. He’s building something from scratch. And when he said, “I’m not a hood dude, I’m protecting my brand,” I felt that in my soul.
Let’s be real: if the roles were reversed?
If a woman did to a man what y’all claiming he did? Half the city would be quiet. That’s the double standard.
If JCPenney took your photo, you wouldn’t ask who the photographer was. But let a Black man build his own photo brand, and now everybody wants credentials, receipts, and blood samples.
We say we support each other, but we don’t.
We say we protest together, but we hate in private.
We say we want community, but we build our platforms off each other’s pain.
It’s disgusting. And I’m done.
I graduate in four months. Class of 2025. I’m building a legacy. I’m locked in.
I’m not here to be messy. I’m not here to gossip. I’m not here to take sides. I’m here to build, not destroy. To create, not tear down.
This isn’t a rant — it’s a reality check.
So if you’re reading this and it makes you uncomfortable? Good. Maybe it’s time to look in the mirror.
And if you’re someone who’s been judged, slandered, or dragged through the dirt — keep your head up. God sees it. Time reveals all.
I said my piece. I’m not bringing it up again.
If you got something to say, say it to God.
You want the real? Go read it at truehoodstudiollc.com.
And if you’re really about Black excellence, support the ones out here still standing, still creating, still believing in something bigger than the hate.
I’m Tru Hood.
I’m tired. But I’m still focused.
Still working. Still walking. Still shining.