Blessed

I've just been reflecting recently on how blessed I've been. It's...whew.

So as a lot of you know, I recently designed a t-shirt and launched a teespring campaign. I wasn't out to make money really. I just wanted to make something dope that I was passionate about, in hopes that others would find it dope too. I initially set my goal at 10, thinking maybe 15-20 people would purchase one, and I would've been perfectly happy with that.

I quickly surpassed that 15-20 within the first hour, and was blown away. By the end of the campaign, I had reached almost 300! I'm so overwhelmed by all of the support I've received with this, and feel SO blessed. People have already started receiving their shirts and are excited, and that makes my heart smile.

This whole year, I've tried my best to be a blessing to others, because I see how I'm being blessed. It's not coincidental. I try to make sure and pass my blessings along to others because it's a struggle for all of us out here. 

I always tell people before we go to God and ask for more, we have to appreciate what we have. This year I've put an extra focus on that, and it's worked. I've been fortunate to meet some awesome new people, buy a new car, pay all of my bills, and receive love and support like never before. Here's to continuing that.

I just want to drop a line on here and give my heartfelt thanks to those who have been in my corner and have always rooted for me. I so appreciate you. 

Be easy.

#NaPoWriMo - Eight | 7:30

Eight times. 

Barely charged with the crime. 

I said eight times and he probably won't do time. 

POW!

"Pull your pants up!" they said. 

"Get your education!" they said

"Don't mouth off, be respectful."

Respectable negros still end up dead.

I'm not respectable so... 

POW!

I was told that I should vote this time around. 

If more blacks got out to vote, things would be different. 

What don't you understand? 

Voting doesn't keep me from 6 feet underground

But...  

POW!

I'm tired. 

But every time I see my people killed

I get a little wired. 

Instead of being fired? 

These cops continue to fire. 

POW!

Don't matter if I run away. 

Apparently my black ass has

Made him feel his life is in danger

Instead of calling it racism and 

White anger

They raise their guns and 

POW!

Now I'm falling to my knees. 

Because despite my three degrees,

They still see me as just another nigger. 

I don't know if I'm on my way to praying

Or to just laying here

Another black man's life taken by 

A cops trigger. 

POW! 

It's getting hard to breathe. 

I don't know if it's the weight of 

being black on my chest or

The exit wounds. 

Am I the next black man 

a cop is sending to his tomb?

My breath is getting shallow. 

I can't breathe. 

I don't see my life flashing before me

I just see the muzzle fla...

POW!

This one hurt y'all. 

But I must keep fighting

Even though these bullets keep biting

Away at black skin. 

Why is my melanin

Seen as my sin? 

All I want is to be...

POW!

Free. 

Eight times. 

Barely charged with the crime. 

I said eight times and he probably won't do time.

#NaPoWriMo - Dream Music | 6:30

You're a dream. 

A premonition of a future written in possibility.

I go to sleep and visit you every night

Just to experience you again

And again...

I see you as God intended. 

Naked. 

If only I could make the shape of these words

Match your curves...

Even your walk speaks to me in cursive

And truth be told?

I just wanna read the Diary 

Written by your footsteps. 

See...

Your stride teaches me words

That's haven't been invented yet. 

Your heart sings a song to me

That hasn't been written yet. 

And your voice is a melodic tone

That's off the scale. 

No note compares. 

And every night...

You stride your fine ass back into my dreams

Footsteps writing music that we haven't 

Even began to make. 

I take naps just to peek at

What we could have. 

See...

You're a dream. 

A premonition of a future written in possibility.

A song that hasn't been written yet

For me. 

#NaPoWriMo - #BlackLivesMatter | 5:30

Peaceful melanin. 

Skin weaponized since I'm black. 

My Black Life Matters. 

#NaPoWriMo - Teach Me | 4:30

Teach me

Show me how to kiss you so deeply that 

Gravity reverses and that floating feeing

Becomes real. 

Instruct me on what it takes to make your lips and mine congruent. 

Show me how to love you so deeply I can

Remove your pain through osmosis. 

And I still wouldn't be close enough to you. 

God shines through you

And I just want to bask in it. 

No shadows...

Show me how to take your breath away

So I can breathe for you. 

See...

Depth and you are synonymous. 

And I could spend my life exploring 

And die a happy man knowing

I was your #1 Student. 

#NaPoWriMo - Kiss Me | 3:30

Kiss me so deeply

That I'll know what it's like to

Dine on perfection. 

#NaPoWriMo - Friendship | 2:30

True, real friendship is

Letting them swipe through your pics

Without stopping them 

#NaPoWriMo - April's Fool | 1:30

We met in the Spring

You were the flower brought forth in May

We hit it off quickly as you shaped a place in my life

We joked about you being my wife and by June?

We were singing each other's tune. 

I laughed at your corny jokes...

You were nervous about meeting my folks but by 

July? You were at the family BBQ. 

The sun shone on us like 20 acres of field

And our love the crop yield...bountiful. 

August came and it was more of the same

"Y'all lame" is what our friends said. 

They were just jealous. 

Autumn brought September

That's when I knew I'd fallen in love with you

Like the leaves fall from the trees. 

October we removed each other's masks. 

Not the kind for Halloween but

The form of masks that hide things. 

See...we were bare with each other. 

November was when it started. 

The heat from our relationship departed and

Cold set in. 

I reflected on being thankful and grateful for you but

In December you became distant and hateful. 

Instead of a Merry Christmas

You were distant and listless. 

In January I sent her a letter with a picture and said

"I miss this."

Her non response felt like seeing her ass

And hearing her say "Kiss this." 

So much for her being my New Year Resolution

It was a cold winter. 

February is the love month but all I felt was a broken heart. 

It's when she said "I think we should depart from each other."

I fought for her but it's hard to contain running water. 

And water ran from my eyes all through March. 

She was gone. 

Blooming flowers didn't have the same vivid colors. 

The sun didn't seem as bright and warm. 

The morning dew was cold instead of cool. 

And to this day, I'm still her April Fool. 

Kinsmen

How I relate to other men in my life has been a point of introspection for a couple years. I've always had more female friends than male friends, and for years now, I've tried to pinpoint why.

I think I have.

Many of you who know me know that I didn't grow up around my father consistently until I was almost 20. For much of my life prior to age 10, the only adult male's I was around were a couple of my mother's friends/coworkers. I know she did her best to provide my younger self with positive male figures, and I feel like she did a good job of that. That still didn't necessarily provide an atmosphere for male love in the home or my every day life.

When I was about 10, my stepfather came along. He was a wonderful provider, but severely lacked at building relationships. He and my mother were married for over 15 years, but we never had a healthy parent-child relationship. He never made an attempt to form a father-like relationship with me.

I grew up not asking male parental figures for....well....anything.  And when it came to my stepfather, he was the type to throw something he did for you back in your face later on. There were days I would leave for school without lunch money because my mother told me to ask him, and I wouldn't.

I realized a while ago that I don't know how to build strong bonds with men in my life because I was never taught how. I'm now 30 and I still suffer from that. To date, there is one man I have built a strong enough bond with that we share a deep friendship, and that is my best friend. Other than he and my brother, I'm not really close to any other men like that. I don't share a level of brotherhood with anyone really, aside from my actual brother and best friend.

Is that weird? Uncommon?

#BlackExperience

Today on Twitter, I started a hashtag. I didn't think anything big would become of it nor was I expecting a huge response. Boy was I wrong. 

#BlackExperience was that hashtag. 

Those of you reading this who are people of color know what #BlackExperience is. #BlackExperience is that series of defining moments that remind you that you aren't the same as "them", with "them" being white people.

My white friends, if you're reading this and it makes you uncomfortable, good. You NEED to make yourself uncomfortable to understand what the #BlackExperience is. It's definitely not comfort for people of color. #BlackExperience is living in a state of discomfort for so long that we don't know what "comfort" feels like. In some cases, that #BlackExperience comes so early in our lives that we never know what comfort feels like. 

What exactly is #BlackExperience you ask? #BlackExperience is the story of the first time you were called a n*gger. It's the first time you experienced racism from white people, likely being under the age of 10. #BlackExperience is what you go through daily in your predominately white work place. It's having racial epithets yelled at you by passers-by while you wait on the bus stop. 

Frankly stated, #BlackExperience are those daily occurrences black people have experienced since before we could even speak that remind us that we're black. 

On Twitter today, I asked people to share three things: "When was the first time you were called n*gger? When was the LAST time you were called n*gger? When was the last time you experienced blatant racism?" The answers, both in quality and quantity, blew me away. 

Some people experienced being called a n*gger as young as age five. For some, their first time being called a n*gger was by a teacher or person of authority. And for some others, they told stories of being called n*gger leading to physical violence. 

The story that broke my heart most was of someone who had their skin clawed at by a little white boy because he wanted to "scratch the black off." These stories were the catalyst for me starting the hashtag #BlackExperience. 

I want the hashtag to be a meeting place where we feel comfortable enough to share our feelings and thoughts regarding our racist interactions with non-people of color, as well as a well-spring of knowledge and learning for white allies and potential white allies to assist them in checking their privilege. I don't expect the conversations taking place under the hashtag #BlackExperience to change the world, but if they've changed one mind...opened one set of eyes, I feel good about it. 

My plan is to continue having these conversations about the #BlackExperience on my Twitter timeline, while possibly bringing the conversation to my Facebook timeline as well. I'd like to make this a weekly conversation where I ask prompt questions to get the discussion going. If nothing becomes of this? That's fine. But I'd like to try. 

Sister Assats Shakur said "It is our duty to fight for freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love and support each other. We have nothing to lose but our chains." It is my duty to be steadfast after the freedom of people who look like me. 

Let's start that discussion. 

When was the first time you were called a n*gger? Share your experiences in the comments below. 

Faith > Fear

Life is so random, right?

Often we sit back when things happen to us or those close to us and rack our brains on why. The why is often what drives us crazy. In breakups, deaths, sicknesses, etc…we're always asking, “Why me/them?”

One of the biggest lessons I've learned over the years is that the why will not always be present for me to know, and that has to be okay. This was really hard for me because I have a very analytical mind. I went to gifted schools where we were taught to seek out the why. I was raised and taught they there is a reason for everything, when in reality, there isn't.

Again, life is random.

I've learned since, that if there was a why to everything, there'd be no use in faith. Faith tells us to believe when we don't know why.

I say all of this to say a few weeks ago, my mom was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer. It was…surreal. It shook my faith. There's always been cancer in my family, but it never really hit home, you know? And now it's at my doorstep.

Yesterday I was at the hospital with her to have surgery to remove the cancer, and I'm keeping myself in a space of faith. Like Dr. Vernon Mitchell said the other day, “…faith and fear cannot live in the same space.”

Fear can become a default, a comfort zone when you're going through things, but I'm not going to allow that to happen to her or myself.

So starting yesterday, I claimed victory over this for her. For myself. For my family…because of faith. My prayer is one of thanks and victory because in my mind, she's already won. She's already beat this thing.

My mom is…everything to me. My first best friend. I told her, “This ain't nothin' but some lil ol bullshit.”

It's been so hard to sit with this because it's felt so heavy. I'm not going to lie, I've been on the verge of breaking down so many times. However, God tells me, “…I will take away sickness from among you.”

So cancer, to you I say that you won't be winning. You won't be victorious. You're not taking this one, because she's too stubborn to let you win.

The Transmogrification of Kanye West

I miss when Kanye West was unequivocally and unapologetically black. I fear that we will never again see the full form of the "College Dropout," "Late Registration," "Graduation," Kanye. His school days appear to be over, and that makes this writer and avid music listener sad.

It was during his "school days" that Kanye's verses spoke the feelings of many of his black listeners. When Kanye said, "Drug dealing just to get by, stack ya money til' it gets sky high. We wasn't 'sposed to make it past 25, joke's on you we're still alive. Throw your hands up in the sky and say 'We don't care what people say,'" he was narrating the thoughts and feelings of several in the black community. Black people everywhere rejoiced and sang at the top of their lungs when listening to "Spaceship" or "We Don't Care" because the lyrics reflected our experiences.

Songs like "Crack Music" chronicled the happenings of some of our childhoods. Kanye paid homage to our black spokespeople with verses like, "How we stop the Black Panthers? Ronald Reagan cooked up an answer. You hear that? What Gil Scott was hearin'. When our heroes and heroines got hooked on heroin." Again, unequivocally and unapologetically black.

Now? We live in a world where Kanye thinks verse two of "New Slaves" is the "best rap verse of all time (he repeats "we the new slaves" 6 times in the verse.)  Kanye raps about a fashion industry where none of the participants look like him ("What's that jacket, Margiela?") He flows about cars that we don't drive and clothes that we can't afford, let alone wear ("Like there go the god in his Murcielago.") His flow doesn't represent the black experience like it used to.


I believe two things were the catalyst for the change in Kanye's artistry. 1) His mom died. That messed him up. 2) Kanye became too self-aware of Kanye's genius. Seems to me that similar to Jay-Z, Kanye lost touch with identifying with his audience. He doesn't flow for us anymore. His artistry has lost that identity.

In his post-Grammy rant, Kanye complained about respecting the artistry and craft, which I definitely do. I respect anyone's artistry because it's something that I can not do. But we got a brief glimpse of the old Kanye when he jumped onstage at the Grammy's after Beck was announced winner of the album of the year. It was an action that harkened back to the Kanye that said on national television that "George Bush does not care about black people." And for a brief moment, I had hope. I had hope that the backpacking Louis Vuitton Don we came to love in his early career would reappear. Then I came to my senses.

Kanye once quipped, "I ask 'cause I'm not sure, do anybody make real shit anymore?" Oh, the irony.

Will the real Kanye please stand up?

I Have...I Am...

I have lost myself...

I have found me again...

I have loved and lost...

I have loved again...

I have learned life lessons...

I have so much to learn...

I have come so far...

I have much more to earn...

I have grown from someone who didn't like me....

I have become much more of who I wish to be.

I am Growth