AND SCENE: Fawn Weaver “Making Up” — Accountability, PR, and Why Black Consumers Don’t Owe Blind Loyalty

Fawn Weaver, CEO and founder of Uncle Nearest Premium Whiskey. (Photo: Uncle Nearest)

So Fawn Weaver popped back out with the make-up video.

You know the one: the “we’re good now” energy, the camera angles, the neat little storyline that says, See? Everybody can go home. Nothing to see here.

And listen… it was cringe. But I’m not mad that she tried to make it right. I’m mad it took so long — after the internet overwhelmingly said, “Nah, Sis, you handled that wrong.”

Because that delay is what makes this whole thing feel like pockets talking louder than conscience.

The receipts (for anyone who missed the first scene)

Here’s what sparked the backlash:

• A clip went viral showing Weaver at a bottle-signing/book-signing moment, approached by a man who said he remembered her from middle school. Instead of simply saying “I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” she made it a public broadcast—basically turning him into a moment for the crowd.

• The clip set Black social media on fire. People weren’t upset that she didn’t remember him — they were upset at the public embarrassment.

• Days later, Weaver responded on Instagram with a long explanation. In that response she emphasized how big the signing was, and she said she “owned” the moment and apologized, while framing parts of it as her trying to “diffuse uncertainty.”

• Then came the “make-up” chapter: a reenactment/role-reversal skit posted Dec. 27 that reunited her and the man (identified in coverage as E. Jermon Manuel).

BET framed it as a “flip the script” redemption arc — role reversal, laughs, reconciliation. TheGrio reported Weaver saying they connected afterward (cigars, Uncle Nearest, yearbook confirmation, etc.).

The part that matters: the “make-up” video didn’t actually apologize

And this is where the feel good story goes slightly off-track: the make-up video is not the apology — it’s the content version of an apology.

A skit can be reconciliation.

A skit can be closure.

A skit can even be healing.

But a skit is also brand rehab, because the goal isn’t to speak to the person harmed — it’s to speak to the audience watching your sales.

And yes, Weaver did say she apologized and “owned” the moment in her longer response. But the public read the sequencing like this:

1) viral clip → 2) dragging → 3) delayed response → 4) brand-saving content.

That timeline is why folks kept saying: “She don’t mean it.”

Two things can be true (and that’s where we land)

Here’s our thesis: She’s damned if she acknowledges it and damned if she doesn’t — but I can respect the backtrack.

We're giving her a pass this time… not because we think the skit is some moral breakthrough, but because accountability is a muscle. Sometimes it develops because the community forces you to lift heavier than you wanted to.

And before somebody hits us with “Internet shaming has no value” — We hear you. We're not celebrating mob justice. We're saying: public pressure is one of the only tools regular people have when money and status insulate leaders from consequences.

Because let’s be real:

Nothing makes a CEO change their mind faster than the bottom line getting touched.That doesn’t mean the outcome is meaningless. It means we should stop confusing brand compliance with personal transformation.

Why this one hit different for Black consumers

This wasn’t some random celeb “oops.” This is a brand many of us actually supported — not just with dollars, but with pride.

I bought my first bottle of Uncle Nearest in 2022. I still buy it. I still recommend it. That’s why the disrespect pissed us off frfr.

When you sell to Black people, you’re not just selling whiskey — you’re selling a relationship:

• “We honor our history.”

• “We’re doing it the right way.”

• “We see you.”

So when the face of that brand makes somebody look small in public, it doesn’t feel like a one-off awkward moment — it feels like the mask slipping.

The lesson: Forgiveness is fine, but don’t throw away the standard

Here’s where I’m at (and I think this is the grown-up middle lane):

We should forgive her too.

But let this be a lesson that accountability matters no matter who you are — CEO, pastor, influencer, “community leader,” whatever title folks hide behind.

And accountability isn’t just “I made a video.”

Real apologies comes with atonement and amends.

That means:

• You address the person directly (not just the audience).

• You name what you did wrong without dressing it up.

• You make the harmed party whole as much as possible.

• You change the behavior — especially under pressure.

My consumer code going forward: support the product, not the personality

This is the practical takeaway:

Support the product, not the personality.

Meaning: I can keep buying what I like, without being emotionally held hostage by somebody’s brand persona.

And for the culture? That means we stop acting like:

• buying something makes us family,

• and criticizing something makes us “haters.”

No. We’re customers. And customers can love a product and still demand respect.

Bottom line

Fawn Weaver tried to make it right. The man appears to have moved on. The internet may never.

But what I’m not doing is pretending the “make-up” content is the same thing as “making amends.”

If this whole episode teaches us anything, it’s this:

Black buying power is influence — but only if we act like it.

Call to action

What do you require before you say, “We good”?

Is a skit enough? A statement? A private apology? Money? Community investment? A pattern of changed behavior?

Drop your standard in the comments — because the real conversation isn’t “Is she redeemed?”

It’s: What does accountability look like when the person messing up is somebody we supported?