We’re looking forward to introducing you to Gerald D. Thomas. Check out our conversation below.
Gerald D. , it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: What do you think others are secretly struggling with—but never say?
I believe that many Black men are secretly struggling with carrying the weight of unaddressed pain while suffering in silence. There’s often no full space to be emotionally stable, to unpack what we’ve been through, or to even name the hurt—let alone seek help. The world sees strength, but inside there’s a quiet battle, where vulnerability feels unsafe and healing feels like a distant luxury.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Gerald D. Thomas, the founder of The GDT PR Agency (now known as The GDT Consulting & Strategy Firm) and The GDT Foundation. My journey started in luxury entertainment PR, supporting major events like the BET Awards and the GRAMMYs, but evolved into a purpose-driven focus on social impact, community engagement, and event management. I’ve been blessed to create and execute experiences from scratch—whether it’s organizing culturally rich gatherings like The Black Derby, Brunchfest and Blue Jeans and Bubbles or working behind the scenes to fund free therapy sessions, clear student debt, or provide resources for those often overlooked.
What makes my work unique is the blend of elegance, cultural pride, and intentional impact. Every project I touch is rooted in both creativity and a mission to uplift. Right now, I’m focused on expanding The Black Derby into a premier cultural event while continuing to lead initiatives that improve mental health access in Black communities across Chicago, Dallas, and Little Rock. For me, it’s about more than events—it’s about leaving a legacy of beauty, culture, and real change.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Before the world started handing me labels and job titles, I was the oldest kid who asked too many questions, who was scared of a lot but would move without hesitation if someone I loved needed protecting. I was the kid who cared more about people than appearances — curious, stubborn, and always trying to stitch something together so everyone around me felt a little safer.
I loved stories and the ways gatherings could change a mood. That curiosity pushed me into entertainment PR — the backstage of big moments, the long nights at awards and premieres, the craft of making something feel important. But even then, the part of me that wanted to serve and to heal never went away. I kept noticing the gaps: people who showed up looking fine but were quietly breaking inside.
So the person I was before the world told me who to be quietly nudged me toward work that mattered: building intentional events, creating spaces that celebrate Black excellence, and turning those occasions into opportunities for impact — from funding therapy to creating retreats for young people who need a reset. The Black Derby, The GDT Foundation, the retreats — they’re all me trying to honor that original instinct to protect, to gather, and to heal.
Today I’m still that questioner and protector, only more intentional. I show up with style because it tells a story, and with purpose because stories without change feel hollow. Who I was before labels is who I try to be now: a maker of safe spaces, a steward of joy and care, and someone who refuses to let pain stay silent.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The deepest wounds in my life have been born of responsibility, loss, and the pressure to look unbreakable. As the oldest of five, I learned early to be the steady one — asking the hard questions, doing the protecting, and swallowing fear so others didn’t have to see it. That habit of carrying for everyone else became a wound in itself: over time it taught me to bottle pain instead of naming it.
The single defining wound is the loss of my brother, Jeremy. His absence changed the shape of everything. I still miss him in ways that surprise me; grief shows up in small, sharp ways on ordinary days. That loss exposed how fragile we all are under the surface, and it forced me to reckon with the fact that suffering doesn’t always announce itself — sometimes it lives in quiet rooms and on quiet phones.
Healing has been neither neat nor fast. It’s been intentional work: therapy (both receiving and now helping others access it), leaning on community, and creating spaces where pain can be named instead of hidden. I poured my grief and my need to protect into action — founding The GDT Foundation, funding counseling, building the Recalibration Retreat, and making mental health a central part of everything I do. Turning loss into purpose didn’t erase the pain, but it has given it direction and meaning.
I also heal by giving myself permission to feel: to slow down, to say I need help, to set boundaries, and to honor rituals for Jeremy and our family. Work and events are part of who I am, but they are also my outlet — a way to gather people, to create beauty, and to remind others that healing can be communal. Some days I still falter; that’s okay. Healing is an ongoing practice, not a finish line.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that pain becomes more bearable when it’s shared and acted upon. That’s why I keep doing the work — for Jeremy, for my family, and for the people who need a place to rest, to be seen, and to begin again.
Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
One cultural value I protect at all costs is the unapologetic celebration and preservation of Black excellence. I believe in creating spaces where Black people can thrive without compromise—where our creativity, intellect, traditions, and innovations are not only seen but deeply valued. This means honoring the work, sacrifices, and brilliance of those who came before us, while also pushing for opportunities that affirm our worth and expand our impact. For me, it’s about protecting our stories, our joy, and our right to define ourselves on our own terms—always with pride, always with purpose.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
I think people will most misunderstand that my legacy was built on ease. They may see the events, the partnerships, the impact, and think it all came without scars or sacrifice. What they won’t fully grasp is the weight I carried—the quiet battles, the moments of loss that reshaped me, and the relentless fight to create spaces where Black people could shine without apology. They might miss that my work wasn’t just about events or titles; it was about love—for my people, for our excellence, for our right to exist fully. My legacy will be misunderstood if it’s seen only as polished success, and not as the result of a man who took his pain, his purpose, and his deep belief in his community, and turned it into something that could outlive him.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: TheGDTProject
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/geralddthomas/
- Twitter: TheGDTProject
Image Credits
All images were taken on and with my personal iphone except for the pic in gold suit ( taken by Omarai Photography)
