Right now, I have so many loved ones in the midst of a storm. I’m from near the gulf and the majority of my loved ones are in Texas going through. I am currently in Connecticut. A choice of impulse and convenience, at the time – and my stay was not meant to last for so long.
I should be home. Not to go through that – GOD NO! I went through my only hurricane that I ever intend to go through in my entire life 12 years ago. It was hell. It was something that I look back on and still feel anxiety. When I would hear that a hurricane was coming, I would leave – even if I had not a resource to my name.
I should be in home, in Austin. My family should be able to come to visit me right now and only have some storms and rain to deal with, maybe instead of flooding and damages.
I wasn’t supposed to be here this long. I was supposed to have escaped this place by now. I haven’t even been able to find a job in months of searching, so working hard to get back to where I need to be is looking bleak.
Spending long months away from my family. Not being able to at least spend a day or two around my siblings for months at a time is already depressing. Also, Connecticut is trash. I haven’t found anything worth celebrating in a full year, and I don’t always like the people I chose to live with. I mean… I don’t always like most people and need a lot of time to myself to be able to not actively hate people, just because I am a hater of spending a lot of time with people.
I am also a hater of not being able to see the people who matter.
And being displaced at the moment, not being able to even break bread while all this is happening just brings in a completely type of storm for me. One of anxiety and depression. I miss Texas. I am hurting for Texas. I want to go home.
Some years back (and honestly, it seems like further back than I know of it to be), I used to have observances for things that I found important. Every Resurrection Sunday weekend, I had certain observances I followed. Every celebrity death that I took to heart. Every martyr for social justice…
It wasn’t until recently that I realized (or actually deeply thought about) the fact that so often now, the observances that I have are in remembrance. Either black women, children, men, killed unjustly or some type of program or movement that sprung forth because of those deaths. Not to mention trans lives taken for simply existing and times when their visibility is focused upon to try to help humanize them (since being human somehow isn’t enough in our society.
And when I thought about the fact that I have little to be able to celebrate – because even Amerikkkan holidays are usually actually not meant for my consumption, I felt not sad or angry, but empty. My stop and think moment over how Nat Turner had a vision and led a fight against oppressors became me settled in the knowledge that we still aren’t equal and slavery just rebranded for modern times.
It is almost hopeless. But, I have niblings. I have children to raise. I have loved ones with future generations already being molded. Everyday, I want to check out and not care what happens in this POS place. But, I have to be active and make moves to ensure that those in my life get the least possible oppression as I can shield them from. To make sure that even these fools that coon around have opportunities to grow into actual people and not catalysts for white supremacy via their internalized anti-blackness.
I have to take every single statement, question or comment and analyze it, to make sure that my emotional disposition remains a fortress for my work and my living. It is exhausting, and I don’t get paid to do it. But, knowing how the Whole White World is… I can’t afford not to.
Whether or not you are a Christian, this information can be dissected. If you believe in the Bible, it should be looked at from a believer’s perspective. If you don’t, it can also be looked at from the perspective of analyzing a tale. At any rate: Continue reading “The Patriarchy Ain’t Never Been Shhh”
I should have never bragged about my blerd high. I was simply so stoked about Insecure, Atlanta and every piece of information about the still to come production of Marvel’s Black Panther. I was on my black fangirl high horse when I came in contact with Netflix’s The Get Down. Continue reading “Opened My Mouth, Now I Taste My Toes”
This space is specifically centered around erased or unrepresented identities and my writings will mostly reflect black stories or stories about black women. I will touch on some issues and share some thoughts. I may sometimes simply ramble, but I need a space to release all that is inside of me that generally goes unheard or commonly remains unspoken. If others will join me here and enjoy me here, I will appreciate it. If not, this looks to be as nice a place as any for all of my unshackled monologues.UN