Narrator: Imagine standing at the open door of an airplane, fifteen thousand feet above the ground. The wind is a deafening roar, and every instinct in your body is screaming at you to step back, to stay in the safety of the cabin. Your heart hammers against your ribs. This is the moment of truth. This is the feeling of pure, unadulterated fear. It’s the feeling that Luvvie Ajayi Jones argues we must learn to confront, not just in the sky, but in our daily lives—in our meetings, in our relationships, and in our ambitions.

In her book, Professional Troublemaker: A Fear-Fighter Manual, Jones provides a blueprint for doing exactly that. She defines a "professional troublemaker" as someone who critiques the world, challenges flawed systems, and speaks truth, especially when it’s hard. The book is a guide to fighting the fear that holds us back, structured in three parts: how to BE, what to SAY, and what to DO to live a more audacious and authentic life.

Narrator: The journey to becoming a professional troublemaker begins with a foundational principle: you must know who you are, whose you are, and what you stand for. Jones introduces the powerful Yorùbá tradition of the oríkì, a praise poem or chant that celebrates an individual's lineage, character, and destiny. It’s a declaration of identity that grounds a person in their heritage and community. When Jones’s grandmother passed away, the singing of her oríkì at the funeral was not just a eulogy; it was a standing ovation for her spirit, a powerful recounting of her life that connected everyone present to her legacy.

Jones argues that we all need our own personal oríkì—a life mission statement. This isn't about goals, which can be written in sand, but about values, which should be written in cement. Knowing your values, your roots, and the community you are accountable to creates a powerful charging station for your life. It allows you to stand firm in your identity, making you less susceptible to the praise of others and less wounded by their criticism. To know yourself is to have an anchor in the storm of public opinion and personal doubt.

Narrator: Society often pressures people, especially women and marginalized individuals, to shrink themselves. We are told we are "too loud," "too ambitious," "too emotional"—in essence, "too much." Jones argues that this is not a casual observation but a request to diminish our core identity for someone else's comfort. This fear of judgment leads people to suppress their true selves, living an ordinary and unremarkable life.

Jones shares her own experience of moving from Nigeria to Chicago at age nine. Feeling "too different," she changed her name from Ifeoluwa to the more American-sounding Lovette and worked hard to lose her Nigerian accent. She was shrinking. It was only in college that she reclaimed her "Naijaness," realizing that her unique perspective was her superpower. Jones points to icons like Beyoncé, Oprah, and Michelle Obama, all women who have been accused of being "too much" and who have succeeded not in spite of it, but because of it. Their "too muchness" is the very source of their power. The lesson is to stand in your uniqueness, because what others see as excessive may be the very thing that makes you extraordinary.

Narrator: Fear of disappointment often keeps our dreams small and safe. We're afraid of having too much hope, because the fall feels greater if we don't succeed. Jones acknowledges that for many, especially those from marginalized communities, dreaming big is a privilege. Systemic oppression can force people into survival mode, where the energy to dream is a luxury.

However, she urges us to "trick ourselves" into believing we have that privilege. Her own path was not a straight line. She started college as a pre-med student, a practical dream, but a D in chemistry forced a pivot. She started a blog for fun, and for years, she was afraid to even call herself a writer. But by dreaming audaciously—of covering the Oscars, of becoming a bestselling author, of telling her mother she could retire—she created a map where none existed. In 2018, feeling burnt out, she declared on Instagram she wouldn't travel unless Beyoncé or Oprah called. Shortly after, she received an invitation from Beyoncé's publicist. Jones argues that speaking our dreams aloud, even playfully, gives them power and invites the universe to conspire with us.

Narrator: The second part of the journey, "SAY," is about using one's voice. We often avoid honesty to maintain harmony. Jones presents a simple scenario: a friend gets a bad haircut with crooked bangs and asks for your opinion. The easy path is to lie and say it looks great. But this small lie erodes trust. Now, scale that up to a corporate meeting where a tone-deaf ad campaign is proposed. Silence in that room, born from the fear of rocking the boat, can lead to a public relations disaster.

Speaking truth requires courage, and Jones argues it’s a muscle we must exercise. She also introduces the concept of "spending your privilege," a term she learned from activist Brittany Packnett Cunningham. If you are in a position of power or safety, you have a moral obligation to speak up for those who are not. It’s about using your influence to challenge injustice and amplify marginalized voices. Truth-telling is not about being cruel; it’s about expecting the best from people and systems and having the courage to demand it.

Narrator: A crucial part of speaking up is demanding one's value, especially when it comes to money. Societal pressures often make women feel guilty for wanting adequate compensation, contributing to a persistent gender pay gap. Jones is blunt: you must get your money. She points to the story of Nicki Minaj, who, upon arriving at a photo shoot to find only a jar of pickles instead of the food she requested, simply walked away. She knew that accepting the "pickle juice" would set a precedent for how she would be treated in the future.

Jones also shares a story of being invited to speak at a tech conference in Europe, only to be told they didn't pay speakers. After consulting with her network, she discovered that male speakers were, in fact, being paid. She spoke out publicly, exposing the hypocrisy. The lesson is clear: people will give you the minimum you are willing to accept. It is essential to know your worth, negotiate for it, and refuse to be undervalued.

Narrator: The final section, "DO," acknowledges that action is messy and failure is inevitable. To live a life of impact, you will make mistakes. The key is to "fail loudly" and learn from it. Jones shares a deeply personal and public failure from 2018, when an impulsive tweet sparked a massive online backlash. The controversy led to a year of shame, self-doubt, and fear of using her own voice.

It was the death of her idol, Toni Morrison, that served as a wake-up call. Morrison’s famous quote, "If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, you must write it," reminded Jones of her purpose. She realized that failure is not a final verdict on your worth. It is a cosmic reboot, a redirection. The only true failure is to learn nothing from the experience. You are not your worst mistake; you are the lessons you learn from it.

Narrator: Action, Jones emphasizes, is not a solo endeavor. Humans need community. Yet, we often build walls to protect ourselves from the fear of betrayal. The problem is, walls keep out the villains, but they also keep out the heroes. To be a professional troublemaker, you need a squad—or rather, five of them.

Jones outlines the essential squads: the Day Ones (family and lifelong friends who knew you when), the Professional Crew (peers who understand your work), the Mentors (those who guide you), the Play Group (friends for fun and release), and the True Blues (your absolute ride-or-dies). Her own grandmother modeled this, surrounded by a squad of tough Nigerian women who affirmed her boldness. These communities provide support, accountability, and the encouragement needed to take risks. You attract who you are, so leveling up yourself is the best way to build a powerful squad.

Narrator: Ultimately, Professional Troublemaker is not a manual for eliminating fear. Fear, as Jones makes clear, is a natural and sometimes necessary human emotion. The goal is not to become fearless, but to fight fear. It’s about acknowledging the fear but refusing to let it be the deciding factor in your life. The book redefines fearlessness not as the absence of fear, but as the commitment to not do less because of it.

The book leaves us with a powerful challenge, a question that cuts to the core of our ambitions and anxieties. It asks us to look at the dreams we’ve deferred and the truths we’ve swallowed, and to consider: What is the one thing you would do if you decided to move forward, even while afraid?