Hi, my name is Derek Kirk. I’m just a country boy and a marketing nerd who grew up in East Tennessee. I graduated from North Carolina Central University and got my MBA from the Wharton School of Business. For the past 25 years, I’ve worked in restaurant marketing, mostly focused on how technology and storytelling can move people and grow businesses. I currently live in Nashville, Tennessee, but I’ve spent most of the last 30 years in Florida or California, chasing careers, sunshine, and occasionally the best pork griot and pikliz, bánh mì sandwiches, or Baja fish tacos I could find.I have a lifelong passion for cooking, passed down from both of my parents. My dad was ahead of his time, stepping into the kitchen in a role that wasn’t always expected, sometimes cooking dinner for me and my sister, and absolutely mastering the grill when it came to barbecue. My mom? She was the queen of holiday meals. Thanksgiving and Christmas were her Super Bowl, and her casserole game was elite. Food was love in our house. It was how we connected, celebrated, and showed up for each other. That foundation shaped everything that would come later.I’ve been with my partner Tamara for 11 years. She’s my rock, my sounding board, and the one who’s seen every high and low of this journey up close. I’m also a proud dad to two amazing daughters. Mackenzie is a senior at UCLA, and Aaliyah is in her second year at Duke, working on her MBA.

In 2016, after my mother passed, I found myself in a tough place. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I was stuck in a job that paid well enough to keep me quiet but not enough to ignore the constant disrespect. Every day felt like a team-building exercise in biting my tongue.During a short vacation in Miami, I found myself deep in a day-long Google search session. The kind where you start with “how to start a Black-owned wine distribution business” and six hours later you’re reading about Black-owned vineyards in South Africa and wondering if you should launch a hot sauce empire. I was brainstorming entrepreneurial ideas, half working, half dreaming, stuffed with jerk chicken and Red Stripe.That’s when I started coming across story after story about Black folks. Chefs, farmers, winemakers, culinary creatives. People doing incredible things in the world of food. Not just surviving. Innovating. I was honestly embarrassed that, even with my background in the industry, I didn’t know about most of them.Miami always inspires me. The vibe, the energy, the humidity. All of it makes me feel more alive and more creative. And in that moment, something clicked.So I asked myself, “If I didn’t know about these stories, maybe others don’t either?”On a whim, I started a Twitter account. A friend designed what would become the soulPhoodie logo, which, depending on who you ask, is already iconic. I won’t argue. The name soulfoodie.com was taken, so I flipped it to soulPhoodie and kept it moving.Every week, I’d discover new stories or have people send them to me. And to my surprise, people cared. The page started growing. Eventually, we had over 100,000 followers. And to this day, I still spend Sunday mornings combing through stories, learning, and sharing them. And yes, it’s always going to be Twitter to me.I also tried starting a blog, but truth be told, I’m not a blogger. I dabbled in paid posts and brand partnerships, but if it didn’t feel right, I didn’t do it. It was always about honoring the stories, not cashing in on them.

One day, an apron seller reached out with some designs made from African fabrics and asked if I wanted to carry them on the site. I hadn’t planned on selling anything beyond shirts and hoodies, but I said sure. I bought 25 to test the waters. They sold out in a day. I hit them back and bought 200 more. Gone in a month.At that point, I was all in. I asked how many more they had, and eventually we agreed on a larger order, 500 aprons. But something started to feel off. The communication slowed. The quality changed. And it turned out I wasn’t getting what I thought I was buying. These weren’t handmade, thoughtfully sourced pieces. They were generic aprons with pseudo-African prints ordered off Alibaba.So I started thinking, why can’t I just create my own?I hired a fashion designer, definitely not what I imagined when I first posted that logo on Twitter just to see what would happen. We ordered the highest-quality aprons we could find and cut them up. Literally. Took them apart piece by piece to understand what worked and what didn’t.We sketched our own pattern. Selected the materials. Chose the hardware. Tested functionality. Spent over a year going back and forth with manufacturers in India, China, and the U.S. before finally finding the right partner.

At the end of 2023, while I was shopping for Christmas gifts, I had a moment. I knew I wanted to give people something tied to cooking or home entertaining, because that’s my lane, that’s what I love. But the more I looked, the more frustrated I got.I couldn’t find anything that reflected Black culture with a modern, elevated design. The few things I did find were either wildly expensive, covered in tired stereotypes, or just poorly made. And I thought, if I’m struggling to find this stuff, I know I’m not the only one.That’s when the idea hit me. There should be a space, a brand, that brings together culturally rooted, beautifully designed, and affordably priced kitchenware and tableware. Stuff that actually speaks to who we are.So I sketched out a business plan in Google Slides, using all the highly marketable skills I’d picked up from years of helping other people chase their dreams, and built a beautiful slide deck no one would see but me.I sized up the market, scoped the competition, mapped out a high-level marketing strategy... and then let it sit. For months. Honestly, part of me wasn’t ready to commit.But that moment stayed with me. The gap was clear. The need was real.

For years, I ran soulPhoodie quietly in the background while working full-time jobs. I kept telling myself I just needed more time, or less stress, or a little more courage to really go all in. I always believed in the brand. I just hadn’t fully put myself into it.Until now.This isn’t just a relaunch. It’s me finally choosing to give soulPhoodie the energy and attention it’s deserved for years. Yeah, it comes with anxiety. I still second-guess things. But I’m showing up anyway.soulPhoodie is becoming an e-commerce brand where Black food culture meets unapologetic style. Bold, statement-making apparel. Kitchen essentials that feel like us. Products that celebrate our traditions, creativity, and flavor — where we’ve been, and where we’re going.