Company Men: The Hidden Health Crisis Facing Black Men in Corporate America

As a writer, you spend countless hours alone, in your own head, working out ideas and trying to turn a mass jumble of thoughts into something coherent. For me, it’s a way of making sense of the world around me and grappling with difficult questions and even more difficult truths.

At the core, it’s a very selfish pursuit in that sense.

During the four years it took me to write Company Men – A Wellness Guide for Black Men in Corporate America, I didn’t give one thought to the idea that anyone would ever read it. Nor did I think it would have the capacity to bring people together—especially people who weren’t the target audience I had in mind.

I simply spent that time wrestling with questions that have troubled me for years.

Such as: Why did my Uncle Juan, a CFO for J&J, die so young? And why are so many Black men, particularly those of us who are successful by conventional standards, dying or suffering strokes and heart attacks before the age of 65? How is the stress of the way we work and spend our day-to-day lives affecting our bodies? What can we do to increase our longevity?

Just last week, a good friend of ours in the Oranges of NJ—a very successful young man under the age of 40—suffered a stroke and has endured multiple surgeries to stop bleeding in his brain over the subsequent week. (We’re praying for him even as I write this.) Osei Van Horne, a JPMorganChase colleague of mine who was widely admired by many of us, passed away at only 45 years old. There are many more stories like this that I won’t share here.

Selfishly, I wanted to know the answer to these questions because I am a Black man who is successful by conventional standards. And I, too, have dealt with some worrisome ailments directly tied to the stresses of corporate life. I wanted to find some answers on how to manage job stress more effectively, and writing Company Men was a way for me to work that out from a selfish standpoint.

But what’s been so deeply touching is to see other people, even those who aren’t the target audience of the book, embracing it and responding to it.

I know money is how we keep score in our society, but seeing how this work is bringing people together and sparking dialogue has been rewarding in ways that money simply can’t measure.

In the end, what started as a personal journey to understand my own health and well-being has turned into something bigger—a conversation that transcends my initial intentions.

It’s a reminder that sometimes the most meaningful work comes from a place of vulnerability and self-reflection, and that the stories we tell can resonate with others in ways we never expected. I’m grateful for the responses and the support, and I hope that in some small way, Company Men can be a tool to help not just Black men, but anyone grappling with the pressures of modern life, find better ways to live, work, and thrive.