Grumpy Wizdom 1: On Becoming (Part 1)

The Essence of Community: A Journey to Becoming

In the first episode of Grumpy Wizdom, Talib Jasir—podcast producer, author, and founder of the first podcast conference for Black creatives—reflects on what it truly means to become.

He shares a vivid story from his early years growing up with his great-grandmother in rural Maryland. A black snake. A swing set. A sound that summoned the village. What unfolded wasn’t just a moment—it was a masterclass in community, reliability, and showing up for each other without hesitation or agenda.

This story lays the foundation for how Talib came to value intentionality, interdependence, and the quiet power of real community—lessons that would later shape his work and his mission through Afros & Audio. From the Eastern Shore to the COVID-19 pandemic, he unpacks how people—not titles, not status—have always been the point.

This episode is a reminder to build, honor, and be the kind of community we all deserve.

Timestamps:

• 00:00 — Introduction to Grumpy Wizdom

• 00:31 — Talib Jasir’s background and intentionality

• 01:03 — Childhood memories and family legacy

• 06:34 — The snake incident and community support

• 14:33 — Lessons on community and becoming

• 19:11 — Reflections on community during COVID-19

• 20:43 — Final thoughts on becoming and community

📣 Want to work with me?
Hire me to speak, book a coaching session, or invite me on your podcast: 👉🏾talibjasir.com/work-with-me

🎙 Got something to say?
Leave a message for the show: 👉🏾Speakpipe

🎧 Be part of the movement.
Afros & Audio is a fiscally sponsored project of Fractured Atlas. Donations are tax-deductible and directly support our mission to amplify diverse voices in podcasting. 👉 Fractured Atlas Campaign

📖 Access the first edition of the Grumpy Wizdom Zine— for free:
👉🏾Grumpy Wizdom Zine - On Becoming 1-3

🎧 Tap into the Grumpy Wizdom Spotify playlist—mood music for reflection and rebellion:
👉🏾Grumpy Wizdom Soundtrack

Episode Transcript

Ayo, welcome to the first episode of Grumpy Wizdom. This episode and the next few will be on the topic of becoming. I've always loved that Haiku poetry titling (00:00):
On something, on becoming, on intention, on survival, on words. So these first few episodes will be on becoming. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Talib Jasir. I'm the founder of the first podcast conference for and by Black podcast creatives and audio professionals in the world—committed to community and collaboration since 2019. And I wanna share this first story about why I show up the way I do. I'm very focused on intentionality—so with the intention of contextualizing the way I show up in the world with others and with myself.

(01:00):
When I was about six to nine months old, my great-grandmother came to Baltimore, Maryland, where I was born, and told my mother—who was in the middle of leaving my father... They met in college, maybe a year or so before we were born, and they eloped. And much like most young loves, it didn't last. So my grandmother said to my mother, "If you come back to school and finish, I'll come and get the twins and I'll take care of them." I come from a long line of that—multiple generations who have left their children with the grandparents, who raised us up and were ready for our parents when they arrived back with the opportunity and the ability to care for us.

(02:00):
And so from about six to nine months old—the dates are now blurrier than they used to be—to about six to seven years old, I grew up on a farm on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Small town called Quantico. We grew up on the Nanticoke River, where we fished and crabbed. We had a farm. Corn crops. Chicken coop. Bubba up the hill had hogs. I remember being intrigued by them—and the nose ring—and them rooting at the fence. They were big black hogs. But also, I was five, so they could have been small black hogs. But they were big to me.

(03:00):
Then Little Buddy had goats in the house right in front of us. Of course, there were animals all around. Still wells in the front, where you literally pumped with your hand. Water basins in the yard, where people still washed up. And ice boxes in people's homes, where the refrigerator man would come around with a big block of ice, put it in the bottom of the refrigerator, and it was there until it melted. My great-grandmother was an entrepreneur. Enterprising woman. A chef. She owned beer gardens and restaurants throughout New Jersey and Maryland, and Connecticut, New York. I think she's where I got my spirit from.

(04:00):
And so when my grandmother took us and cared for us, I had to be around five or six years old. I remember this vividly because it's when community cemented in my psyche. I understood what it was at that young age. My sister and I were on our swing set and my grandmother, she went all out. She bought a new car just to come and pick us up. It was an old white Oldsmobile. Was it an Oldsmobile? What is that? No—it was one of those old big-body white Chevrolets.

(05:00):
And the house that I grew up in was a white two-story home. Still had kerosene heaters and wood stoves inside. There was an upstairs where people stayed—whether it was my uncles or family members. Two bedrooms on the first floor, with two dens. We had the sun parlor, and we had a den. Trying to take y'all back to really see what this house looked like—and I'll share a photo. But again, it was a white home with these green corrugated fiberglass panels for roofing. And I mention that because when it rained or when a storm came, you really heard the rhythm of this roof in nature.

(06:00):
We had a U-driveway, which means you come in, go all the way around our house, and you can come out. It was all sand. As a matter of fact, the entire road was sand, packed down. Used to be underwater hundreds of years before that—but it became our home. So my grandmother—not only did she buy this car—but she also, as we grew up, built a fenced-in playground. And when I tell you me and my sister had everything—I mean everything. We had a playground set. I’m talking the Cadillac of playground sets. We had the seesaw, the swings, the sliding board. We even had this swing thing that was like... four people could get in it, and it was like a ride. We all sat in it, held onto the bar, and pushed each other back and forth.

(07:00):
We had two of everything—two Sit ’n Spins, two Inchworms, tricycles, you name it. My grandmother had it on deck for us. And we were the only ones in the neighborhood with this type of lifestyle. Everyone else lived in smaller homes or just a yard. And what that means is that all the neighborhood kids was at our house—all day long. Sun-up to sun-down. Especially in the summertime, obviously. But there’s one day that me and my sister were out there by ourselves. No neighborhood kids. No cousins. No play cousins. Just me and her. And we were on our swing set—and she was slowing me down. I wanted to do some parkour moves that she wasn’t with. And if she saw me doing it, I’m sure my grandmother and her were in cahoots, making sure that my grandmother was well-informed on the things I thought up in my mind to do. 00:08:00] So on this particular day, I was focused. Like, “Okay, once I swing to a certain level, I’m going to jump off of it—jump over the gate.” Which was not possible at five... and probably not possible at my big age now. But that’s where my mind was. I’m gonna swing until I’m over the fence, and then I’m gonna come back around, and it’ll be so fast. Because I was watching—what was that one? 🎶 “Believe it or not, I’m walking on air...” 🎶 I never thought it would be so real. Remember that? American Hero. So that was my mindset. I could do anything. And today—I was going to do a trick that would defy human abilities.

(09:00):
But before I could get to that, my sister unexpectedly just gets off the swing and goes inside. So now I’m free. Free to do what I want. But then I look over and notice she’s still looking out the window—but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking up in the tree. And I still have a mission to accomplish. So as my height is getting to the point where I can see myself fly over this fence, my grandmother comes out and tells me to get off the swing and come inside. I’m like, Damn, how does she—this woman must be psychic. She knew what I was finna do before I even did it. But no—what she did was notice that my sister was inside. We had the swing set where she could look out the window from the kitchen. Again, she was a chef—if I haven’t mentioned that already. Worked at movie stars’ homes, hotels, colleges. All that.

(10:00):
So she could see us out the window. She noticed that my sister was no longer with me. So she comes out into our screened-in porch and sees my sister looking out the window, and she asks her, “What’s going on?” My sister, frozen with fear—all she could do is point. My great-grandmother, Mama Lena, looks up in the tree and sees a big—huge—black snake above my head. It was going for some bird eggs. So my grandma says, “Quickly, get in the house.” And my great-grandmother—she was deathly afraid of snakes. I remember anything we did with snakes... If we were messing with her, you wanna piss her off, you put a fake snake around her feet. Watch TV—a snake come on screen—she couldn’t even handle it.

(11:00):
So on this day, imagine now—we’re in rural Eastern Shore, Maryland. This woman has seen snakes all her life. Her grandchildren—my uncles and mother—used to play with them things. So I know that was like her worst nightmare. But she comes out. Not into our fenced-in playground, because that’s off-limits right now. But she goes to the middle of the street and lets out a sound. And if you think about it, my great-grandmother—she was born in 1909. So they communicated in this small town before telephones ever even came into play. My grandmother, who is still alive now—she’s 95 years old—talks about growing up, and up until she was a teenager, they didn’t have electricity in the house. So they communicated in other ways. And my grandmother let out a sound.

Now I can’t remember the sound—and I can’t do the sound. So for the sake of not knowing what it was, I’m just gonna go with the rallying cry that we all know at this point, thanks to rap and our sets—which I’ve never been a part of. So for the sake of argument, let’s say she let out a (12:00):
“Hootie hoo! Hoo hoo!” And what happened next is… Bubba comes out of his house with a shotgun. Aunt Florence comes out the house with a shovel. Little Buddy comes out the house with himself. They all come straight to Grandma. Now—whatever sound she made—they had a distinction. This was an existential threat alert. They came out prepared. And Grandma tells them what’s going on. She points at the tree. Me and my sister are both looking out the window at this point. I’ve now seen what the problem is. And I wanna support this whole situation—because I can. I’m five years old. I know what I’m doing. In my mind, I’m a whole ass man.

Let me out here too so I can help y’all get the snake! But unfortunately, they made me stay in the house. I just got to witness what went down. So I’m looking at the four of them converging and making a plan. Grandma comes back into the screen with us. Aunt Florence—who was fearless—she was with Bubba and Little Buddy. They were inside the fence. And Little Buddy was the spotter. He was gonna tell Bubba when to shoot. And when Bubba shot, Aunt Florence was going to be the person who—once the snake fell—dealt the final blow. So if you got that in your mind, here we go (13:00):
Little Buddy

(14:00):
He shoots the snake. Now I’m watching the snake up there—and I see this snake take the blow and recoil itself back into place. Like—when I tell you this was a big black snake—I mean it. He took that shot shell like a G. Took it. Absorbed it. Settled himself right back on the branch. Little Buddy’s like, “You got him. He ain’t going nowhere. He’s still up there.” Bubba’s like, “I can see that, Little Buddy. Alright, aim a little closer to the head this time.” Bubba resets. These are 12-gauge shotguns that he had. My pop-pop had about eight of them in the house growing up.

So Bubba shoots again. The snake falls. As soon as that snake hits the ground—Aunt Florence takes that shovel, puts it between the top of its head and its body—separates it. Body’s still moving. My grandmother’s got the willies. She’s trippin’. My sister screams. And I’m thinking (15:00):
Damn, Aunt Florence! She takes that snake’s body, grabs it. I see her walk out of the fence and toss it in the ditch. And the head was just sitting there—looking at us. Little Buddy picks that up. I don’t know what he did with it. Alright. Lena took care of it. Grandma said thank you—and they dispersed.

(16:00):
...and we even would go over to other people's farms and help them harvest, and they would do the same for us. We fished and crabbed and always kept enough and shared with the community what was left. And as I began to grow and I started to create certain experiences—mostly online, I was doing a lot online before I began this in-person event—it was always about bringing people together to do their work, showcase their brilliance, to share stories. I've actually experienced communities that were reliable, provisionary, supportive, with no agenda. We give because we can. We show up because it's called for. And we ensure that everyone who is a part of this community has a role. Shows love. Has a role, shows love, and wants to see each other win.

(17:00):
That's what I grew up in. I'm very proud of that. Very proud of that story. Because whenever I get disgruntled or disillusioned or discouraged—disappointed even—by communities that I've attempted to integrate myself in or be a part of, and it's not quite what my framework of community is, I'm like, oh, damn... y’all don't get it. This ain't about you. It's not about any of us individually. It's about us collectively while being autonomous. We each are coming with our own thing that we can do. One of us got the shotgun. One of us got the shovel. One of us can spot what's going on from a different angle. I know community because I've lived it. And it's a part of my becoming story. Because it's who I am. It's who I be. I don't know any other way to be.

(18:00):
And that's my good news—as well as the good news of the folks that I am in service to. That’s how the culmination of my life that is now Afros & Audio was taught. On that day in the '80s. From the community that was surrounding myself and my great-grandmother. As for Grumpy Wizdom, this story is insight into how we used to be when we relied on each other, understood what that meant truly, and showed up for each other—without hesitation, without suspicion, without too much conversation around why. Just—oh, you need me? I'll be there. I have that now. I curate it. I create it. But I'm also intentionally a part of groups—shout out to Mastermind, shout out to my Momentum family, my own family, and the communities that I'm a part of.

(19:00):
And I think COVID—in that time that we had, that timeout we had as a world—for those that we lost, for those that survived, for those of us who were impacted but never sick... That time from 2020 to 2022... I always wondered if people got it. That in that moment, people are the point. Not the titles. Not the things you do. Not your identity. Not where you hang out. Not how much money you have. 'Cause when you are by yourself in the house—unless you have partners or children, relationships, family—this was a time where people became the point.

(20:00):
It was those connections. It was those folks that you could truly rely on—that you called on. It wasn't calling on your fake friends, your coworkers, or people that you knew weren’t your people. No. You counted on your people. And if you didn’t have the people, then I can only imagine and hope that this was a wake-up call for finding your people. I've been very intentional around the people that are around me—in my inner circle, in the outer circles, and even in the circles beyond that. I hope you enjoyed that story. Learned a little bit more. Contextualized how I show up in the world and why I am the person that I am. Because it's my becoming.

This episode—and the next few—will be on becoming. And my Grumpy Wizdom inside of it is (21:00):
Become the person that—when people call—you are able to show up, provide, and be a stand for them. Become the person that people want to be a source of reliable support and resources for you. We only have this one life. And people are the point. Nothing else matters in this matrix. It's about the connections we make, the communities we build, and our ability to be autonomous while being a collective. We don't need the same minds. I'm a critical thinker, and I pretty much dissect and deconstruct everything.

(22:00):
And so when I hear folks say they want to be around like-minded people... Sure, it's been said all your life. That's all you've heard. But I want a room full of people who may share my interest and my vocation and my trade—but mostly, I'd prefer it if they didn’t. Because I'm gonna learn more. Gain something additional that I don’t already have in my wheelhouse—in my toolbox. And I'm very intentional about that curation and what it gets to look like in anything that I create. I don’t need any like-minded people around me. I need people that think different, act different, are different—so that we can all gain something from each other.

(23:00):
This is Grumpy Wizdom. I'm Talib Jasir. Peace. Ayo! If this episode sparked something in you—don’t keep it to yourself. Follow or subscribe. Rate the show. Drop a review. And pass it on. Wanna see the episode videos? Become a member of the Grumpy Wizdom Inner Circle on Patreon to unlock exclusive content, early access, and a fresh zine every three episodes. Join now at patreon.com/grumpy-wizdom. To explore more of my creative work or connect professionally, head to talibjasir.com. And podcast fam—if you create, produce, or move in audio—don’t miss the 7th Annual Afros & Audio Podcast Festival, October 16th through the 19th in Baltimore. Details at afrosaudio.com. All links are in the show notes. Thank you for listening. Let’s ride.