I have a confession to make: Even after nearly a decade of running a business in Madison, I’ve never been an avid reader of In Business Madison. And that’s surprising — because I love to read. I try to read a book a week and engage with just about everything related to business.
And yet, when it comes to this publication, I’ve never felt like I was its intended audience. I’ve only felt partially reflected, if at all.
So, if this magazine is a mirror, the real question is: what is it showing us about the business landscape here? And what is it telling us that the landscape is missing?
I’ve written books, built platforms and am in the process of launching an international tour. My work has been featured in Forbes, Essence, BRAVA and Madison Magazine. I say that not to boast but to offer context: I know a little something about business. And yet, this In Business terrain is still new to me. So, if my voice here sounds unexpected — like someone who’s stumbled onto the stage — maybe it is.
If what I share feels familiar, consider it a confirmation. And if it feels new — well, that’s what I’m here for.
When I began planning the Without Apology Tour — a two-year, 45-city national and 24-city international journey inspired by my memoir “A Pot to P*ss In” — I naturally started in Madison. The book is set here, and it explores themes like motherhood, leadership, business, wealth-building and legacy. So, wherever I go, people will ask about Madison.
The tour isn’t just a book promo. It’s a storytelling campaign, a space for conversation, and a call to reimagine business as a tool for cultural change.
As I looked for potential tour partners — venues, co-hosts and collaborators — I noticed something: nonprofits like libraries, community organizations and wellness centers were easy to connect with. But for-profit, Black-owned businesses with brick-and-mortar locations? Much harder. That’s not a critique of the entrepreneurs — it’s a reflection of the landscape.
Yes, we have strong examples: Anesis Therapy, Juicy Organics and Café Coda. We also have support from organizations like the Doyenne Group, the Wisconsin Women’s Business Initiative Corp., gBETA, StartingBlock, the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation and the Social Good Accelerator.
These are necessary efforts, but what happens to them now, as national conversations about equity shift? Will they be quietly deprioritized? Will the business gap — already tied to the wealth, education and health gaps — keep growing?
The more people on the wrong side of those gaps build sustainable businesses, the more the gaps close — and the more the city thrives.
But we all know this, right?
And yet, a few years ago, I saw a man walk out of a Madison grocery store wearing a T-shirt that said: “Slavery got sh*t done.”
Bold, right? No one challenged him — not even me — because I was stunned. But in hindsight, that shirt was a statement about labor, power and ownership. About who gets to exploit and who gets exploited.
It was a shirt about business.
And now, as I watch the national conversation shift again, I realize the question hasn’t changed:
Who holds the power? Who builds wealth? Who gets to own? And who pays the cost?
DEI aside, this is the conversation.
It’s about the humanity of business — not just transactions, but relationships. Not just widgets and revenue, but how we use business to solve social problems. Because in addition to profit, good business should always be about two things: relationships and problem-solving.
These aren’t just ideas to me — they’re lived.
My financial coach, Aidan, is a mother. From the start, she didn’t just work with my numbers — she held space for my fears and shame. She didn’t see me as a liability; she saw me as a story still unfolding.
In “A Pot to P*ss In,” I write about our relationship:
“Sitting across from Aidan at Summit Credit Union was like getting butt naked in front of a stranger. … The vulnerability was terrifying. But Aidan wasn’t just someone helping me manage money. She was both a witness to my reckoning and my financial bestie.”
I was able to experience similar kinds of relationships with the other women — and men — who’ve helped me build. Each one brought something more than a service. They brought belief, understanding and alignment.
My real estate agent believed in big, “impossible” dreams.
My banker for my housing journey, Kelli, the mother of a large family, could see my capacity even in the chaos of raising my six children.
My accountant? A Black woman who offers advice based not only on my barriers, but on my vision.
Even the men who’ve supported my work? Our shared resilience is what ties us together. They recognize a finisher — because they’ve had to finish too.
Of course, in all of these relationships, I still had to do my part. They had to do theirs. But the humanity of business was still there. And it matters.
If we can’t call it DEI, fine. Let’s call it what it really is: economic survival work. Gap-closing work. The business of investing in new relationships that create new outcomes.
Because even if “equity” becomes a dirty word, we still need to do the work.
The goal isn’t just business as usual. It’s to build something that makes our city better — not just for some of us, but for all of us.
As the Without Apology Tour unfolds, I’ll be talking about Madison a lot. Because this is home. It’s the primary setting for the book, and because people will ask: “What are y’all doing?”
My hope? That in this national conversation, we’re not the cautionary tale.
If another city is Target, we’re the Costco: built to last, built with intention. Rooted in relationships. Resilient by design.
So, if In Business Madison is a mirror of who’s thriving in Madison, then the reflection should be shifting too.
If we truly become the Costco of this conversation, we should expect to see it: In headlines. In features. In who gets quoted. In who gets centered.
Because the business landscape is changing. And the mirror will tell us whether we’ve widened the frame — or stayed frozen in place.
I’m grateful this platform exists at all — because, as James Baldwin said, the job of a writer is to reflect society back to itself. And that reflection matters just as much in business as anywhere else.
Sagashus Levingston is the founder and CEO of Infamous Mothers, the author of “A Pot to P*ss In” and founder of the Without Apology Tour. Visit infamousmothers.com to learn more about the tour.
Interested in offering leadership guidance to IB Madison readers? Email Joe Vanden Plas at joe@ibmadison.com to be considered for this column.
