First off, what you gotta know, if you wanna know Still, is Yung Ferro, where I came from and where I’ve been. The picture up above, the one of me putting all my eggs in one basket would represent my mentality before the clothes, before the community, before the drop and long after.
I’m here to tell you that it all came down to a question I was asked by no more than somebody somewhere 20 years after the above image was taken
– that question set me free, and it catalyzed a brand that stands for persistence, endurance, and the grit it took me to get where I am today.
But before we get to that…
It was 2008
…and “everybody,” including me, wanted to be a Memphis Tiger. I mean, people were repping the Tigers like it was their last name. It was really because of one man: John Calipari. And at the time, I was on his radar for recruitment.
There was nothing like that feeling, let me tell you that. So when he left for Kentucky and the replacement, Josh Pastner, fell off wanting me to join the team, I decided to get as far away from the U of M, shit, as far away from Memphis as possible. I went all the way to Seton Hall in New Jersey to play ball there for a few years.
And all of a sudden, it was 2010
… and I was loving every minute of my growth from being a freshman averaging .02 points for the season to a sophomore averaging 8 pts and a few rebounds. I was broke and far from home, but I found my swag.
I had true friends, and even though shit was tough financially, I learned to pick myself up and get in the game in every aspect of my life, asserting myself as a player and getting comfortable with who I was.
At this point, I’m playing, and I’m playing well. I’m getting recognition, I saw my name on some random mock draft. And that’s when it seemed like the gates of Heaven opened up. A space came up on the Tigers, and deep down, I still wanted to be there in Memphis, so I transferred in the midst of my sophomore year and was determined that my road to the NBA was through the U of M.
Unfortunately, things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. And even though I had the drive, the off-the-court issues outweighed everything. My seasons at the U of M weren’t the best I’d ever play. Not skillfully, psychologically, or physically – but there was more out there for me, and I knew it, I just didn’t know where more was.
So, I walked out on Senior Night, kissed my newborn daughter Hayleigh in front of thousands of Tigers and left the FedEx Forum as unsure of my own destiny as ever before.
Now it’s four or five months down the line.
…and after seeing my peers get the opportunities I couldn’t even sniff, I found myself playing halfway across the world for the next few years. Denmark, back to the Bank of Bartlett, over to the Czech Republic, Iowa, Saudi Arabia, Santa Cruz, and then the Windy City. To say I was a nomad doesn’t cut it – I was everywhere, learning as much as I could. And when I finally arrived in Japan to play ball there, I felt something was going to be different.
I was at a point in my life where I was on a shoestring budget, sleeping on a small-ass twin bed, and playing for a new team in a new country. And that’s when I got asked the question.
“You’re still trying to make it to the NBA at 27?”
There was only one way to reply:
“Yeah. Still N***A.”
If you know me, you know how I said it and how I looked when I said it…
And the Still motto stuck with me. It got me somewhere, so I stuck with it, too.
Because as delusional as I was, and as many red flags were waving, I was pursuing my dreams aimlessly and with no plan at all aside from the dedication to commit myself daily to the idea of being the best I could be, which would in my own mind eventually lead me back to the G League and then finally into the NBA. I wanted it, and after years of chasing my dream, I had my best season and went back to the G League, where the story continued.
Then Covid struck, and my window for being called up closed at 29. I was hurt but reality set in, and I opened my mind up to new things. Hustling was just me. The NBA gave us the chance to learn the business of fashion during the downtime so I took it.
Then, I took the Still motto & made it a visual representation of what it means to persevere.
Based on my experiences from around the world, and with particular influences from Memphis, we released the first Still Community line of clothing and named it Lifeline. With iconic landmarks from the places around the city of Memphis, we built on the shared culture of what it means to grow up and thrive in one of the most underprivileged cities in America. The locations weren’t just core memories of mine – they’re part of the memories of everyone who grew up there, and that unspoken sense of community built bridges through both time and space.
Anyone can find themselves in the lines we’ve dropped since then. Still created a social currency that encourages members of the Community to embrace their style and show anyone else repping the brand that they are forever evolving through every up and down.
That’s what it’s really all about at the end of the day. Showing up, putting in the work. Day in and day out. Still has come to embody the relentless pursuit of passion and the purposeful mindset it takes to become whatever you desire. Sure, it takes a village, and that’s what we’re here for.
We provide an inclusive environment to congregate, gain information, politic, bullshit, and express ourselves through clothing and other outlets. We’ve been there before, too.
So, just like I pushed through the ups and downs of a basketball career that led me to chase my passion around the world, I finally figured out how to be a part of something greater than myself by being purposeful. Still Community encourages others to follow their passions with purpose.
Stay tuned for more.
Yours truly,
Ferro
