The news came at the worst possible time.

A major funder had dropped out of Pride, the musical I wrote with Commodore about the Black family experience. Plans were already in motion. People had given their time and talent to the show. We now had a large gap in our budget.

A loss like that can stop a production.

I knew we had to act fast. But first, I had to help people see why this musical mattered.

For Commodore and me, Pride was more than a show. We wanted to bring an honest story about Black family life to the stage. We wanted to explore the love, conflict, strength, and history that shape a family. We also wanted Black audience members to see parts of their own lives in the story.

That purpose guided our work. It also gave others a reason to support us.

My work with Commodore taught me an early lesson about strong partnerships. Two people do not have to think alike to work well together. In fact, our different views often made the musical better.

Writing with another person takes trust. You have to share ideas before they are fully formed. You have to welcome honest feedback. You must also be willing to let go of an idea when the story needs something else.

Commodore and I did not always agree on every scene or character. When we saw things in a different way, we tried not to ask who was right. We asked a better question: What does the story need?

That question kept us focused. It also gave each of us room to speak, listen, and grow.

This experience shaped how I think about diversity. Diversity is more than who enters the room. People also need a voice in what happens there. Their ideas should be heard. Their life stories should help shape the work.

I try to create that kind of space in every group I join. I listen before I respond. I welcome ideas that may challenge my own. I also make sure people receive credit for what they bring to the table.

A partner should never feel like a name on a list. Each person should feel like a true part of the team.

Different points of view can lead to hard talks. That is not always a bad thing. When people trust each other, a hard talk can lead to a better choice. The goal is not to avoid conflict. The goal is to handle it with honesty and respect.

When our funder left Pride, I needed to put those ideas into action.

The support around the musical had been growing for years. Some of the people who helped us had known me since high school. They included people connected to a venue, donors who supported the school, family friends, and other members of the community.

I did not form those relationships because I thought I might need money one day. I got to know people. I learned what they cared about. I stayed in touch and looked for ways to support them.

That is what networking means to me.

Networking is not about collecting names. It is not about calling people only when you need help. It is about building real trust over time.

A strong network is made up of people who know your work and your values. They know whether you keep your word. They know how you treat others. They also know whether you will be there when they need you.

When the funding gap placed Pride at risk, I began making personal calls. I told people what had happened. I explained why the show mattered and what we needed to move forward.

I also asked people I trusted to make introductions. One call led to another. Each conversation opened a new door.

I listened to people’s questions and took their concerns seriously. I did not want anyone to feel like a quick replacement for the funder we had lost. I wanted each person to understand how they could become part of something with lasting value.

Asking for support also comes with a duty. People need to know that their help will be used with care. They need clear information. They need to know that their time, money, ideas, and trust will be respected.

There was no single call that fixed everything. The answer came through steady work. It came through old ties, new introductions, and people who believed in the purpose of the project.

Step by step, we closed the gap.

Through hard work and strong relationships, I was able to replace the lost funding. Pride could move forward.

The result was important, but so was the lesson. People may notice a strong idea first. They often choose to support it because they trust the person responsible for carrying it forward.

You cannot create trust in the middle of a crisis. You build it through small choices made over time.

Did you keep your word? Did you return the call? Did you listen? Did you give credit to others? Did you show up when someone else needed help?

Those choices may seem small. When a crisis comes, they become your foundation.

The funding challenge also changed how I view leadership. Leadership is not acting as if you have every answer. It is facing the facts, telling people the truth, and helping the group find a path forward.

It also means staying calm when others are counting on you. A sudden problem can create fear and confusion. Clear communication gives people the confidence to keep moving.

The best partnerships also make room for each person’s goals. Donors, artists, venues, and community leaders may want different things. The work is to find the purpose they can share.

Once that purpose is clear, people begin to see how their own skills and resources can help. They stop viewing themselves as separate supporters and start acting like members of one community.

Maintaining that community is just as important as building it.

The relationship should not end when the money is raised or the final curtain comes down. I stay in touch. I thank people and celebrate their success. I make introductions when I can. I look for ways to support their work, even when I am not asking for anything.

That care helps one partnership lead to the next. It also creates a network that becomes stronger with every shared success.

When I look back on Pride, I am proud that we replaced the lost funding. But the money is only part of the story.

The larger success was bringing people from different parts of my life together. They believed that the Black family experience deserved a place onstage. They believed in the musical. They also believed that I would honor their trust.

That is the power of a strategic partnership. It can save a project during a hard moment. It can bring new voices into the room. It can connect people who might never have met. It can turn one idea into a shared success.

The curtain may come down, but a strong relationship can keep creating new opportunities for years to come.