‘Black Twitter’ Changed My Life

My Thing Is: I don’t really care what it’s called or how it’s covered. This priceless community gave me my first platform and inspired my career.

Pervis Taylor III
Pervis Taylor III pervistaylor.com

When it comes to the question of whether “black Twitter” should be called black Twitter and whether there are too many (or any) articles written about it, I really couldn’t care less.

Whatever it’s called, however it’s covered (even if it does sometimes feel as if reporters are observing exotic animals and describing their findings), this dynamic, accessible, energetic community has really changed my life.

It’s where I healed from my father’s death, had a breakthrough and found out what I was put on Earth to do.

That’s no exaggeration, either. The other day, one of the young women in a jail-alternative program where I’m a life coach asked me how I discovered my purpose. I replied, “Twitter.” She looked at me and laughed.

“Can you explain that?” she asked. “Cause Twitter is ratchet.”

“Twitter is what you make it,” I replied.

I believe that because, just a few years ago, I found myself trying to navigate my 20s while I was depressed, and really just wandering aimlessly through life. My father, my biggest cheerleader, had passed away suddenly. I found myself alone in the big city. (I’m born and raised in Lancaster, Texas.) I was signed with a modeling agency, but I wasn’t satisfied. I was desperate for some sense of normalcy, even a bit of escapism. 

Sad as I was, I guess I still talked a lot. A friend said to me, “Pervis, you’ve got a lot to say. Why don’t you join Twitter?” I took a look and didn’t fully get it—and I certainly didn’t know there was a “black Twitter”—but I knew one thing instinctively: Your tweets are a part of your legacy.

I created an account and began tweeting just as I began to pull myself out of my depression. I stuck to what I knew best during that time—the glimpses of inspiration and perspective that were allowing me to shake off my dark mood and sense of hopelessness. I had very few followers, but those who were there consistently retweeted my insights. Honestly, for the first time, I felt that my voice was being heard.

We all seek significance in life, and for me this was it. I was addicted. And I was slowly becoming myself again.

My breakthrough came when an executive I used to work for—someone I truly looked up to—approached me and told me how much one of my tweets had meant to her.  

I still remember that tweet: “Never be wed to an outcome, because you miss the blessing when you expect it to happen a certain way #pervisprinciple.”