The top five things I’ve learned from being a Black founder

 

By Porter Braswell

 

Today we’re announcing that we’ve entered into an agreement for the acquisition of Jopwell, the first company I started and the foundation for all I’ve been able to accomplish professionally. Eight years ago, I began this journey with my co-founder Ryan Williams – and it’s completely surreal to think we’ve made it to this point.

 

Jopwell is being acquired by True,* one of the largest executive search firms in the world and a powerhouse innovator in executive talent management. With over 800 employees worldwide, I know True will help Jopwell scale our mission of career advancement for Black, Latinx, and Native American students and professionals. We’ve built a great relationship with True’s co-CEOs throughout this process – Brad Stadler and Joe Riggione. Ryan and I are very excited to continue building Jopwell within the True platform, alongside them.

There’s no shortage of articles and thought pieces on how tough it is to be a Black founder in America right now. Capital flows remain abysmally low for us: in 2022, only 1% of the $215.9 billion raised in US venture capital deals went to Black founders. Black (and Latinx) communities remain significantly underrepresented in the founder community, but 1% of funding is still a deeply inequitable proportion given that roughly 6% of US founders are Black.

Despite so many discouraging indicators, it seems like young people are increasingly turning to entrepreneurship as a path to wealth creation. 9.3% of Black professionals in the venture ecosystem aged 21-30 are founders, a higher proportion than in any other age range. While it is undeniably difficult to be a Black founder, that doesn’t seem to be deterring the next generation of innovators.

 

When Ryan and I first started on our path to founding Jopwell, we were totally blind to all these obstacles and statistics. Frankly, if we’d been wiser to them, I’m not sure we would have taken the leap of faith to build this business.

In this environment, it’s crucial we tell stories about Black entrepreneurship: our successes, our failures, our ambitions, and our lessons learned. The financial reality may take years to change, and the fickle nature of VC markets means we can’t rely on them alone. But what we can do is change perceptions. Representation matters, and as a community, we have to ensure aspiring Black entrepreneurs see a pathway to success.

The story of Jopwell

Ryan and I both started our careers at Goldman Sachs, where we bought and sold currencies on the FX sales desk. After completing my first year as an analyst in 2012, I knew I wasn’t “called” to do this job. Above all, I was pretty average at it and I hated that feeling. I knew there  was something else I was meant to do.

In 2013, I decided I wanted to work in tech and applied for entry-level sales jobs at Uber, Box, DropBox, a friend’s startup, and a company that was going through TechStars. After making it to final-round interviews at all of them, they turned me down for my lack of experience at similar tech companies. Shortly after these failed attempts, I noticed all these organizations had begun talking publicly about their lack of diversity and claiming they weren’t diverse because the talent didn’t exist. It was a “pipeline” challenge.

 

I became increasingly frustrated by this blatant and deliberate misdirection. I was literally the talent they claimed didn’t exist. But I couldn’t break into the industry, despite being overqualified for the entry-level jobs I’d been applying for.

So I decided that the only way to break in would be to build my own tech company – one that served all this supposedly nonexistent talent. That’s how we came up with the vision to create the largest pipeline of Black, Latinx, and Native American talent. That vision would eventually become Jopwell.

The idea came easily enough. The much harder part came next. To inform my parents that I was about to quit my desirable job in finance and take a massive risk to build my own business, I decided to write them a letter.

 

In that letter, I spoke about the importance of taking a leap of faith, following one’s calling, and the importance of living a life where you take big swings. I was pretty proud of it when I polished it off and thought it would be well received.

Instead, my Dad’s response was, “So let me get this straight. You’re non-technical, you’ve never done recruiting, and you’ve never built a business before. And you’re quitting your secure job to go and do that?”

To which I enthusiastically replied: “Yes.”

 

He ended the conversation there and then by saying he was disappointed in me and that he didn’t understand.

For all the obstacles I’ve had to overcome on this journey, taking a leap of faith while knowing I was disappointing my family remains the most difficult. No article or book or story could have prepared me for it. I had to forget everything the world was telling me, including my parents, and forge my own path ahead. It was the hardest, loneliest experience of my life.

A few years ago, one summer evening while sitting outside in Martha’s Vineyard, my dad and I were having a drink. By this point, my first daughter Mia was about 6 months old. Now that I knew what it was like to be a parent, I was able to communicate to my dad that I actually appreciated him pushing back on me when I took the risk. I realized when he did so that he wasn’t really giving me advice – he was projecting his own insecurities onto me. 

 

My dad grew up in the Bronx. He was the first one in his family to attend college, and worked extremely hard to become a General Counsel for a publicly traded company. Eventually, he also became a state Judge. His pathway to success meant putting his head down, doing what was necessary, and ensuring my mom, sister, and I always had financial security.

He wasn’t able to think about quitting a job and starting a company. Failure would have been devastating for everyone he supported. But because of his efforts, along with my mom’s, my sister and I were in a different position. We could take risks he was never able to consider.

Looking back, it was his disapproval of starting this journey that propelled much of our success. Many founders of color have to navigate these nuanced obstacles before even starting the journey. But it means that when we do take that leap to build something, we’re already “battle-tested” in a way. Ultimately those challenges mean we’re in a better position than most to build something impactful.

 

Now that Jopwell is being acquired, with my two girls sitting across from me watching Bluey, I think it’s fitting to write Part Two of that letter to my parents.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Against all my expectations, you were right. It was a crazy idea to leave Goldman. It was a crazy risk to start this company. And even though you told me not to, I realize now I never could have done it without you.

The top five things I’ve learned from being a Black founder

You spent your lives building enough security for Lauren and me so we could chase our dreams. You couldn’t have predicted what my dreams would be, and I’m sorry things took such a surprising turn. But I’m not sorry I took the risk, because it’s taught me valuable lessons about the world and myself. Lessons I’d never have learned from the path I was on before.

Now that Jopwell is being acquired, I have no desire to say “I told you so.” (OK, almost* no desire.) Instead, I want to share with you what I’ve learned so you see this was never just about vanity or youthful ambition. It was about growth and impact.

So here they are, the Top 5 Lessons I’ve learned along the journey:

 

  1. You can’t build, scale, or sell without someone else’s trust
    Lots of people have good ideas. But building a successful business isn’t just about having ideas – it’s about cultivating trust. Jopwell wouldn’t be where it is today without the trust of the corporate partners we work with and the talented individuals we connect them to. Both sides of our platform had to trust that we had good intentions and that we could deliver on our vision. That trust is built in so many different ways. But without it, you can’t build anything sustainable.
  2. As a Black founder, success brings privilege…and privilege is a responsibility
    I remember some of the first meetings we had when we were raising money for Jopwell. I felt like a total imposter. I didn’t have people in my network who looked like me, who had successfully raised money or exited a business. As a Black founder I realize I have a responsibility to pay it forward, and help more and more founders of color get to this point. Believability is everything for founders, and I want to help more people like me get to a place where they never have to second-guess their credibility.
  3. We need more Black founders to build, scale, and exit
    Now that I’m at this stage, I’m realizing I have to have conversations about wealth creation. As you know, we rarely speak openly about this in our household or in our community. But it’s a critical foundation to build upon for future generations’ success. Education, employment, housing, entrepreneurship – all of them become more readily accessible with the accumulation of wealth. One of the best ways to create that is through successful exits. And Black founders need to be able to see ourselves reaching that stage. We need to normalize Black founders scaling and exiting their own businesses, especially if we expect each other to pay it forward and reinvest back into our community. Black wealth is a communal responsibility, not just an individual ambition. For any Black founders with an exit in their back pocket, it’s critical to remember that.
  4. All it takes to start something is one person who really trusts you
    When Ryan and I left our jobs in finance, we took a massive leap of faith. But I never doubted that Ryan trusted me. Without that trust, this wouldn’t have worked. Ryan invested so much in our partnership, and he went from being my co-worker at Goldman to my business partner, the best man at my wedding, and now an uncle to my kids. His faith in us back then has morphed into something so much more. I can safely say he’s the brother I never had. No matter what business you’re operating in, you just need one person like that, one person who truly has your back, to get things going. Any other problem or gap is solvable, but that kind of support is irreplaceable. 

    And for me, I was fortunate that I had two people like that. I also had Juliana, my then girlfriend, and now wife. We were just starting to date when I was trying to break into tech. At every rejection, she would be the first to say that next time would be different. I don’t have the space to write about the impact Juliana had on this story, but without her, nothing meaningful I’ve accomplished over the last decade would have been possible.

  5. Never stop thinking about your next move
    Success isn’t just earned – it’s rented. And the rent is due every day. You don’t “make it” and then retire. Just like a musician playing a song or an athlete playing a game, you have to keep your mind on what’s coming next. In scaling Jopwell, I learned that I’m a builder. That’s what drives me. I like building new things and I’ve learned just how much remains to be built – especially for our community. I’m incredibly grateful for the success we found with Jopwell, but that will never blind me to how much more remains to be done.
The top five things I’ve learned from being a Black founder
Porter (left) and Ryan (right) at Porter’s wedding in 2018 [Photo: courtesy of Porter Braswell]

That’s it, that’s what I’ve learned so far. I can’t thank you enough for pushing me, Mom and Dad. I never would have seen this through without your many honest challenges.

You’re probably gonna freak when I tell you I’m about to do it all again. But maybe I’ll save that for another letter.

With so much love and gratitude,

 

Porter

*True’s acquisition of Jopwell is subject to closing conditions

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