Professional Troublemaker

We live in a world where fear has become our default setting. Whether it's the fear of speaking up in meetings, the anxiety of pursuing our dreams, or the terror of being truly authentic, we've allowed trepidation to dictate our choices. We've been conditioned to believe that staying small, keeping quiet, and maintaining the status quo is safer than rocking the boat. But what if our silence is costing us more than our courage ever could?

This book challenges the notion that fear should be our compass. Instead, it offers a blueprint for becoming a "professional troublemaker" - someone who chooses truth over comfort, authenticity over approval, and bold action over paralyzing fear. Through personal stories, cultural insights, and hard-won wisdom, we'll explore how to transform our relationship with fear from one of avoidance to one of partnership. The journey ahead isn't about becoming fearless; it's about learning to move forward despite our fears, to speak our truth even when our voices shake, and to live so fully that we leave this world better than we found it.

Growing up, Luvvie's grandmother, Olúfúnmiláyò Juliana Fáloyin, carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who she was and whose she was. Born into a royal lineage that would see her father become king of a Nigerian town, she understood from an early age that she belonged to something greater than herself. Even when tragedy struck and she lost both parents by age eighteen, becoming responsible for her younger sister, she never forgot her royal heritage. This wasn't arrogance - it was a deep, unshakeable understanding of her worth and place in the world.

When life forced her to flee an arranged marriage and start over in a new city with nothing but her sister and her dignity, she didn't crumble. She carried her identity like armor, protecting her from the doubts and fears that might have consumed someone less certain of their value. She knew that being broke didn't make her broken, that being displaced didn't make her worthless. Her sense of self was so solid that even strangers could feel it - doctors who tried to speak around her instead found themselves addressing her directly, recognizing her inherent authority.

In Yorùbá culture, there's a beautiful tradition called oríkì - a personal praise poem that connects you to your ancestors, celebrates your lineage, and speaks to your destiny. These aren't just flowery words; they're declarations of identity and belonging that remind you of who you are when the world tries to convince you otherwise. When you know your oríkì - whether it's written down or simply carried in your heart - you become unshakeable. You understand that your worth isn't determined by your current circumstances, your bank account, or other people's opinions.

The foundation of fearless living isn't found in eliminating doubt, but in building an identity so strong that fear cannot topple it. When we know not just who we are, but whose we are - when we understand our place in the grand tapestry of existence - we gain the courage to take up the space we've earned simply by being born.

The tech conference invitation seemed straightforward enough - until Luvvie discovered the ugly truth behind their "no budget for speakers" policy. While white men received payment and travel coverage, and white women got their travel expenses covered, Black women speakers like herself were offered only "exposure" as compensation. The discovery came through her network of powerful women who shared information transparently, revealing a pattern of discrimination disguised as budget constraints. The conference organizer's response was even more telling - basically admitting they prioritized speakers who were "more relevant for their audience," a thinly veiled way of saying her Blackness made her less valuable.

When Luvvie chose to speak publicly about this inequality, her agents warned her about potential consequences. Other conferences might blacklist her for being "difficult." Her speaking career could suffer. But she realized something crucial: if someone with her platform, success, and privilege couldn't speak up about injustice, who could? If she remained silent, she'd be complicit in perpetuating a system that devalued Black women's contributions. The fear of professional consequences paled in comparison to the cost of her silence.

The aftermath proved her courage was worth it. Instead of losing opportunities, speaking truth to power opened new doors and elevated her career to new heights. More importantly, it sparked conversations that helped change industry practices. Her TED talk, which came shortly after this incident, became one of the most-watched talks on the platform, reaching millions of people with its message about the power of uncomfortable truths.

Speaking up isn't just about individual courage - it's about collective liberation. When we find our voices and use them to challenge systems of inequality, we create space for others to do the same. Our truth-telling becomes a bridge that others can cross to reach their own freedom and authenticity.

When young Fúnmiláyọ̀ faced an impossible choice at eighteen - submit to an arranged marriage to a stranger or flee into uncertainty - she chose the audacious path. With her thirteen-year-old sister in tow, she ran away from everything she knew to start fresh in a new city. This wasn't just a geographical move; it was a declaration that she would author her own story, regardless of the expectations placed on her by tradition and circumstance. She had no money, no connections, no guarantee of survival, but she had something more powerful: the audacity to believe her life could be different.

This grandmother's boldness became the foundation for dreams that seemed impossible at the time. Her decision to choose freedom over security created a ripple effect through generations. It allowed her to meet Luvvie's grandfather on her own terms, to build a family rooted in choice rather than obligation, and to model for her descendants what it looks like to bet on yourself when the odds seem insurmountable. Her great-granddaughter would later write New York Times bestselling books, speak on international stages, and create a media empire - dreams built on the shoulders of a woman who dared to run toward an uncertain future.

The white men who casually bought an entire mountain for their social organization didn't deliberate about whether they deserved such audacity. They simply saw what they wanted and found a way to make it happen. This is the kind of shameless dreaming that creates empires, changes industries, and reshapes the world. They don't question whether they're qualified or worthy - they just act on their visions with the confidence of people who have never been told their dreams are too big.

When we dream audaciously, we're not just imagining a better future for ourselves - we're giving permission to everyone who knows us to expand their own sense of what's possible. Our bold visions become proof that extraordinary things can happen to ordinary people, that the limitations we accept are often self-imposed, and that the only thing standing between us and our wildest dreams might just be our willingness to pursue them.

When Mama Fáloyin discovered that her daughter's elementary school teacher had cut the child's hair as punishment for incomplete homework, her response was swift and legendary. She showed up at the school the next day carrying scissors, fully prepared to give the teacher the same treatment her daughter had received. It took ten people pleading and invoking God's mercy to convince her to abandon her mission of reciprocal justice. The teacher never again laid inappropriate hands on any of the Fáloyin children, and word spread quickly through the school about the consequences of mistreating this family.

This wasn't about violence or revenge - it was about establishing boundaries with unmistakable clarity. The grandmother understood something that many of us forget: people will treat us exactly as poorly as we allow them to. By showing up ready to defend her child with the same energy that had been used to harm her, she sent a message that resonated far beyond that single incident. She was demonstrating that disrespect comes with a cost, that boundaries aren't suggestions but requirements, and that sometimes love looks like fierce protection rather than quiet acceptance.

The church pastor who tried to deny her the certificate she had earned through months of study made the mistake of underestimating her resolve. When he locked himself in his office to avoid confronting her, she planted herself outside his door and refused to leave. Her husband stood beside her, both of them prepared to wait all day if necessary. The pastor eventually emerged with her certificate in hand, having learned that Fúnmiláyọ̀ Fáloyin wasn't someone you could simply ignore or dismiss. She had drawn a line and was prepared to defend it.

Taking no shit isn't about being cruel or unreasonable - it's about valuing yourself enough to insist on fair treatment. It's the recognition that kindness doesn't require us to be doormats, that we can love people while still holding them accountable, and that sometimes the most loving thing we can do is refuse to accept behavior that harms us or others.

Throughout her life, Luvvie's grandmother surrounded herself with other fierce Nigerian women who matched her energy and elevated her spirit. These weren't women who encouraged her to tone it down or play small - they were fellow troublemakers who celebrated her boldness and stood beside her when she needed backup. At her sixtieth birthday celebration, they appeared in coordinated gold outfits and matching sunglasses, looking like the powerful sisterhood they truly were. They had created their own ecosystem of support, where taking up space wasn't just accepted but expected.

When Luvvie needed clarity about the speaking fee discrimination she discovered, she turned to TheLi.st, her network of influential women in business and media. Within minutes, these women provided the transparency and information she needed to understand the full scope of the injustice she was facing. They shared their own experiences without hesitation, creating a web of knowledge that exposed patterns of discrimination that might have otherwise remained hidden. This wasn't just networking - it was sisterhood in action, women using their collective power to lift each other up.

The friends who surprised Luvvie with a first-class trip to Anguilla for her bachelorette party weren't just celebrating her upcoming marriage - they were demonstrating the profound love that exists between women who have chosen to become family. Nine friends coordinated schedules, pooled resources, and created an unforgettable experience that reminded her of her worth and the strength of their bond. These weren't friendships based on convenience or proximity; they were relationships built on mutual respect, genuine care, and the kind of loyalty that shows up in both celebrations and crises.

Building a squad isn't about collecting followers or maintaining superficial connections - it's about cultivating relationships with people who see your full humanity and choose to invest in your growth. When we surround ourselves with people who refuse to let us play small, who challenge us to be better, and who celebrate our victories as enthusiastically as their own, we create an environment where courage becomes contagious and dreams become achievable.

The path from fear to freedom isn't about eliminating anxiety but about moving forward despite it, transforming our relationship with uncertainty from one of paralysis to one of partnership. Through the lens of one grandmother's extraordinary courage and her granddaughter's journey to claim her own voice, we discover that the antidote to fear isn't fearlessness but purposeful action in the face of doubt. True liberation comes when we understand that our worth isn't determined by others' approval, our voices matter even when they shake, and our dreams deserve pursuit regardless of their audacity.

The most profound truth revealed in these pages is that we become professional troublemakers not by seeking conflict but by refusing to accept injustice, inequality, and inauthenticity as inevitable. When we speak truth to power, set boundaries with love, and build communities of mutual support, we don't just transform our own lives - we create ripple effects that give others permission to step into their own power. In a world that profits from our silence and compliance, choosing to live boldly, love fiercely, and speak truthfully becomes the ultimate act of revolution and grace.