Surrounded by Hate, We Love: Founder's Corner Blog

It remains unfathomable to me how often certain white men forget – conveniently or otherwise – that their success was made possible because a Black person opened a door for them. What is even more profound is how, once they have secured their fame and fortune, they eventually reveal their “true selves,” retreating into the comfort of whiteness as if it were a birthright rather than a shield.

Such is the case with Dr. Phil McGraw, the Oklahoma native who rose from an unstable, impoverished childhood to become a television celebrity and New York Times best-selling author. Did he rise because he worked hard and “pulled himself up by his bootstraps”? Did he ascend because a wise mentor taught him how to achieve wealth and celebrity? Was he propelled by some innate “specialness?” The answer to all of these questions is a resounding NO.

Dr. Phil practiced psychology for only a short period. There is no evidence – none – that he clawed his way upward through grit alone, discovered a life-changing mentor, or possessed extraordinary gifts. The historical record is clear: Dr. Phil’s national platform, influence, and wealth were made possible by a Black woman – Oprah Winfrey.

Oprah, who herself emerged from childhood poverty and instability, did not have bootstraps to pull. She had to build her own boots. She relied on her intelligence, drive, determination, and fortitude – qualities Black women have been told for generations we supposedly lack. She earned her success. She created her empire. And she used her power to elevate others.

Dr. Phil was one of them.

He was a Texas trial consultant when Oprah encountered him during her multi-million-dollar defamation lawsuit brought by the cattle industry. She credited him with playing a major role in her victory. Feeling indebted – as Black women so often feel compelled to be – she repaid him with opportunity. In the late 1990s, she invited him onto The Oprah Winfrey Show. Audiences responded. He became a regular on her “Change Your Life” segments, then the face of “Tuesdays with Dr. Phil.”

Oprah’s endorsement didn’t just help him. It created him. Her company, Harpo Studios, produced Dr. Phil in 2002, launching him into two decades of national celebrity.

For years, Dr. Phil rode Oprah’s coattails, benefiting from the authority, credibility, and massive platform she had built through her own sweat and sacrifice. And then came 2023, when he decided he could step out from under Oprah’s shadow and build his own media empire. His efforts have faltered. That is not the point.

What matters is what became visible once McGraw stepped away: his MAGA-leaning political posture. And with that revelation, Dr. Phil became yet another example of a deeply embedded American pattern that grieves me. Black women show up – again and again – with generosity, loyalty, and conscience. Even when we are hurt, even when we are dismissed, even when our contributions are erased, we continue to give. God created us this way.

But we cannot allow our kindness to blind us to the destruction that stalks our families and our communities. Four hundred years of degradation, subjugation, and lynching were not enough to extinguish the hate. It never died. America simply hid it for a few decades, and now it resurfaces – bold, unmasked, and unashamed.

Dr. Phil’s story is not just about one man’s rise. It is about how America treats Black women: We build. We uplift. We save. And too often, once the men we elevate reach the mountaintop, they forget who carried them up the hill.

In Sisterhood, Velveta