I Blame Black-ish for This

I was in Level 100 when I first heard about Black-ish. You know, the sitcom about a wealthy Black family trying to make sense of life, culture, and success.

At the time, I had just moved into Jubilee Hall with my laptop. One evening, I noticed my next-door neighbour watching a series that seemed impossible to ignore. I wandered into his room and asked what it was. He later sent me a few episodes and, more importantly, introduced me to the magical world of torrents.

For those who stayed in Jubilee Hall, you already know that the Wi-Fi deserved its own award. Looking back, it was one of the greatest gifts my university experience offered. I adored that internet connection. Before going to bed, I would queue entire seasons of films and television series. Two hours later, everything sat neatly on my laptop waiting for me. During the afternoons, downloads had even greater aplomb. The speed – oh boy!

Even after I moved to another hall in Level 200, I still found reasons to return to Jubilee. Part of it was Oheneba and the study rooms. To be truthful, it was the beautiful Wi-Fi connection.

What fascinated me about the series was Andre Johnson.

Dre worked as an advertising executive, and I was completely captivated by his world. I loved the scenes in the office and the client meetings.

I loved the pitches and watching people gather around ideas and argue over them until they were successful projects.

Back in secondary school, I desperately wanted people to know I was good at English. I wrote dramatic essays whenever I had the opportunity. I enjoyed discovering new words and finding places to use them. If there was a chance to impress a teacher with vocabulary, I was probably going to take it. Looking back, I can laugh at myself now, but that fascination with language never really left.

When I watched Dre navigate the advertising world, I was a different being. Whatever it was, I found myself imagining what it would be like to work in a creative agency.

As the series progressed, so did my curiosity.

Then came 2020. The show began depicting teams working remotely, holding meetings online, and adapting to a changing professional landscape. By then, I was in Level 300. While watching the episodes, I did not know exactly where I would end up after university.

So, I began paying closer attention.

I watched how people communicated, how teams presented ideas, how professionals positioned themselves and there was a perspicacious quality to the best communicators I encountered — whether fictional or real.

When I created my profile on LinkedIn, I started connecting with people across the industry. I followed conversations. I read posts. I observed discussions about campaigns, branding, strategy, and creative work. Every new connection was an invitation into a world I hoped to enter one day.

I remember speaking often with a member of my church who had worked at Dentsu. He would tell me stories about agency life, explain different roles, and challenge my assumptions about the industry. More than once, he encouraged me to experience advertising for myself at least once in my life.

Yeah, dig that as if I haven’t tried with 1000 CVs?

Life has a funny way of presenting a dream. I became fascinated by job titles: Account Executive, Strategist, and Copywriter sounded particularly glamorous to me. The word itself has always been a mystique. Sometimes I would search for copywriters online and look through their portfolios.

Before anyone accuses me of stalking, let me defend myself. I was not interested in people’s personal lives. I simply wanted to understand what good work looked like: evidence of works and the works. I wanted to build something of my own.

Over time, I started creating my own portfolio.

Sometimes I think about the bifurcation points in life – the seemingly insignificant events that alter the direction of everything that follows. It’s a thought that grows, then continues and feeds into the self. 

To all our unfulfilled dreams