Don't Let Overgeneralization Discount Your Brand Value

What Overgeneralization and Underpriced Expectations Say About Your Brand

Let me tell you something real: Some folx want your value, but only at the version of you they can afford. They’ll praise your past, ignore your growth, and show up with a beer budget expecting champagne treatment. That’s not support. That’s overgeneralization, and it’ll cost you more than money.

This is about the kind of brand behavior that cheapens your brand worth before you even name your price. But here’s the twist: it’s not always clients doing it.

Sometimes, it’s folx who "love" you. Sometimes, it’s your audience. Sometimes, it’s you.

It's A Lingering Effect

There’s something folx knowinly dismiss about smoke. It lingers. Long after the fire’s out. Long after the meat’s gone. Long after you’ve put the pit away.

That’s how overgeneralization works.

It’s like smoke from a fire someone else set still sticking to your name, your brand, and your identity like you never walked away.

Every few months, someone asks me the same damn question:“Y’all ever gonna open a barbecue spot here in Texas?”

I used to laugh it off. Now I just do a heavy sigh, because the answer hasn’t changed since we shut the doors in 2018: Absolutely not. But that question reveals more than curiosity. It’s a form of distortion. A psychological and branding bias called overgeneralization.

It happens when folx take one part of your story and stretch it across the expanse of your whole life like it’s gospel.

They loved what you were, so they refuse to pay attention to who you’ve become.

And for far too many Founders, that distortion becomes a business plan they never meant to write.

The Overgeneralization of a BBQ Brand

Our barbecue business was born on the competition circuit. What began as a weekend hobby turned into an expensive obsession. Trophies, equipment, travel, meat for practice cooks. It can add up real quick. So we did what most folx do when they believe in their product with no brand: we tried to recoup our investment by turning it into a business.

But most of y'all know the truth. I didn't go down the food service route because I love cooking. We started selling barbecue because it was supposed to be a recovery plan. What no one tells you is that turning passion into profit isn’t a straight line. And when your starting point is exhaustion or obligation, what you build will eventually break you.

I was raised on hospitality. Collard greens, neck bones, and Sunday soul food in my momma's kitchen. But I never enjoyed cooking. Not at home. Not at the restaurant. Not even when Neil ask me to make him some fried chicken or extended family ask me to me mac and cheese. This is the seed of overgeneralization.

Overgeneralization made me easy to understand and cheaper to frame.

Because I co-owned restaurants, folx assume I love the kitchen. Because I worked to build a barbecue brand, folx assume I want to live in that smoke forever. Because I showed up as Mrs. Mista, folx assume that's the sum total of my identity. But overgeneralization doesn’t just affect how others see you. It’s how you start shrinking to fit the story they want to keep telling. It’s how you start performing a version of your brand that’s easy to sell, but impossible to sustain.

When Strategy Gets Dismissed as Vanity

During our time on the circuit, there was a small but mighty group of competitors who created their own sauces and rubs. Some saw it as brand extension. A way to take something from the pit to the pantry. But in most barbecue circles during that time, those products were labeled as “vanity projects.” Folx didn’t believe you were building a business. They believed you were feeding your ego. I don't know if that's true.

And because that was the dominant perception, most folx like us, abandoned the idea before it could gain traction. But looking back, that was a missed opportunity for brand behavior to trump brand perception. Because the unexplored truth is that branding is behavior.

It’s how you show up. It’s what you make consistent. It’s what you make valuable beyond the plate, the pitch, or the personality.

There's an opportunity to turn rubs and sauces into sub-brands that can carry a name without tying it to a physical location. But for us, I also knew something about our internal dynamics: Neil will do whatever it takes, as long as it doesn’t require the type of responsibility that comes with long-term brand building. And back then, I didn’t know how to set boundaries between partnership and personal sacrifice.

So I did what many Founders do. I picked up the slack, held the vision, and ran the brand into the ground trying to carry it by myself. Overgeneralization made folx assume Bigmista's passion was my passion. It was a business decision disguised as a love story.

When Legacy Gets Mistaken for Loyalty

It’s easy to feel guilty when folx still want what you no longer offer. When customers say they miss the ribs. When your uncle asks if you’ll open “just one more spot." When your name still shows up in barbecue circles even though you’ve been out the game for years.

But legacy isn’t always a signal to go back. Sometimes it’s proof you did something that left a mark, and that it’s time to put your mark somewhere else. That’s what branding does when done right. It travels further than your presence. But when it’s rooted in overgeneralization, it locks you into a version of yourself that’s expired.

And here’s where this becomes a lesson, not just a memory: If your brand is built on how folx first knew you, you better make damn sure it’s not the only way they still know you. Otherwise, every time you try to expand, pivot, or evolve, you’ll end up fighting the ghost of your own success.

Let me ask you something, straight up:

• Are you still showing up as the first version of your brand because folx won’t let you grow?

• Are you carrying outdated assumptions just to make others folx comfortable with your evolution?

• Are you building based on demand or distortion?

Overgeneralization is a sneaky bitch because it flatters you while it limits you. It sounds like support, but it’s really a ceiling. It sounds like legacy, but it’s really limitation in disguise. You don’t owe anyone your past if it’s costing you your future.

Don't Let The Smoke Define You

I’ll always be grateful for the folx who supported us in the early days, especially the barbecue folx who still read my emails. Y’all were part of a chapter that taught me more than any textbook ever could. But I’m not Mrs. Mista anymore. That name served its purpose, but it also silenced parts of me I hadn’t even met yet.

Today, I build branded houses, not barbecue joints. I N.A.G. Founders to reclaim their story, not repackage it. And while the smoke still lingers, the fire is out. It’s strategic now. It’s behavior. It’s the blueprint for Founders who refuse to be boxed in by other folx assumptions. If you’re ready to stop letting the first thing you were known for be the only thing you’re known for, then Brandbaby, we got a branded house to rebuild.