A Month of Black Love #1

As a way of showing myself love and care I am going to share something meaningful to me everyday this month. As a way of showing my Black communities love, I will share meaningful things.

*Update, apparently my life did not allow for a post/day, so I will when I can. #life

First and foremost, there are Black and Brown people on the front lines here in NC being arrested for speaking truths to our corrupt regime and need funding to get out of jail.

Here’s where you come in.

DurhamSolidarityCentersign

Please help by donating and sharing their website as much as you can. Click here for their site.

My first meditation of the month comes from June Jordan. June is a constant source of light and motivation in my life, so I look to draw strength from her powerful words. Feel free to read along while listening to the audio I found on YouTube.

Poem about My Rights by June Jordan

Even tonight and I need to take a walk and clear

my head about this poem about why I can’t

go out without changing my clothes my shoes

my body posture my gender identity my age

my status as a woman alone in the evening/

alone on the streets/alone not being the point/

the point being that I can’t do what I want

to do with my own body because I am the wrong

sex the wrong age the wrong skin and

suppose it was not here in the city but down on the beach/

or far into the woods and I wanted to go

there by myself thinking about God/or thinking

about children or thinking about the world/all of it

disclosed by the stars and the silence:

I could not go and I could not think and I could not

stay there

alone

as I need to be

alone because I can’t do what I want to do with my own

body and

who in the hell set things up

like this

and in France they say if the guy penetrates

but does not ejaculate then he did not rape me

and if after stabbing him if after screams if

after begging the bastard and even after smashing

a hammer to his head if even after that if he

and his buddies fuck me after that

then I consented and there was

no rape because finally you understand finally

they fucked me over because I was wrong I was

wrong again to be me being me where I was/wrong

to be who I am

Which is exactly like South Africa

penetrating into Namibia penetrating into

Angola and does that mean I mean how do you know if

Pretoria ejaculates what will the evidence look like the

proof of the monster jackbot ejaculation on Blackland

and if

after Namibia and if after Angola and if after Zimbabwe

and if after all of my kinsmen and women resist even to

self-immolation of the villages and if after that

we lose nevertheless what will the big boys say will they

claim my consent:

Do You Follow Me: We are the wrong people of

the wrong skin on the wrong continent and what

in the hell is everybody being reasonable about

and according to the Times this week

back in 1966 the C. I. A. decided that they had this problem

and the problem was a man named Nkrumah so they

killed him and before that it was Patrice Lumumba

and before that it was my father on the campus

of my Ivy League school and my father afraid

to walk into the cafeteria because he said he

was wrong the wrong age the wrong skin the wrong

gender identity and he was paying my tuition and

before that

it was my father saying I was wrong saying that

I should have been a boy because he wanted one/a

boy and that I should have been lighter skinned and

that I should have had straighter hair and that

I should not be so boy crazy but instead I should

just be one/a boy and before that

it was my mother pleading plastic surgery for

my nose and braces for my teeth and telling me

to let the books loose to let them loose in other

words

I am very familiar with the problems of the C. I. A.

and the problems of South Africa and the problems

of Exxon Corporation and the problems of white

America in general and the problems of the teachers

and the preachers and the F. B. I. and the social

workers and my particular Mom and Dad/I am very

familiar with the problems because the problems

turn out to be

me

I am the history of rape

I am the history of the rejection of who I am

I am the history of the terrorized incarceration of

myself

I am the history of battery assault and limitless

armies against whatever I want to do with my mind

and my body and my soul and

whether it’s about walking out at night

or whether it’s about the love that I feel or

whether it’s about the sanctity of my vagina or

the sanctity of my national boundaries

or the sanctity of my leaders or the sanctity

of each and every desire

that I know from my personal and idiosyncratic

and indisputably single and singular heart

I have been raped

be-

cause I have been wrong the wrong sex the wrong age

the wrong skin the wrong nose the wrong hair the

wrong need the wrong dream the wrong geographic

the wrong sartorial I

I have been the meaning of rape

I have been the problem everyone seeks to

eliminate by forced

penetration with or without the evidence of slime and/

but let this be unmistakable this poem

is not consent I do not consent

to my mother to my father to the teachers to

the F. B. I. to South Africa to Bedford-Stuy

to Park Avenue to American Airlines to the hardon

idlers on the corners to the sneaky creeps in

cars

I am not wrong: Wrong is not my name

My name is my own my own my own

and I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like this

but I can tell you that from now on my resistance

my simple and daily and nightly self-determination

may very well cost you your life.

#StopKillingUs

#SayHerName

#BlackLivesMatter

#TransLivesMatter

#BlackLove

Until next time Comrades,

-D

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Inauguration Party

Regime.

Light a candle

turn out all the lights

focus on your existential fright.

It’s very real, the fear you’re feeling

enveloped by the reality of our regime changing

it’s not like before you thought you were safe

like you could express your inner freedom without fear of malice

*

Focus your eyes to the light of the candle

in the midst of your dark open space

think about the powerful flame

and all the energy it takes

to fill that dark space all by itself

just for a second you begin to see

the power of your rage manifested

among all the darkness and tyranny

*

But just when you note this

you notice the room

all dark and filled with fear

there is energy in the chaos

of the evil force that leers.

You don’t feel safe,

because you know you aren’t

it’s overt now and you have no place to hide

in your own skin you are punished

because brutality presides.

*

Breathe in your discontent,

your fear and palpable anger

for at least the next four years

you’re in clear and present danger.

*

The light of the candle

think about how it fills the space around you

that’s the light of your community enveloping you

your lifeline

your safe place

your home-base and more

don’t forget you have them as a lighthouse

and powerful core.

*

In this next indefinite space

it’s important that it’s strength and courage you take

to get through the day and move to the next

SELF CARE in the interim

get through it at best.

Throughout it all remember you ain’t alone

remember that it’s connection to hone.

Be vigilant

Be ready

Be home

Be light

amidst the tumult of power that incites.

 

 

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Disjointed.

I’m sitting here looking at the grooves in your skin

thinking

‘we have the same blood coursing through our veins.’

Looking

as the weight of your words slowly crack the surface of my deepest cognizance

thinking

‘we have the same gaps in our teeth.’

Avoiding the weight of the world that your words bring into my existence

all I can focus on

is mom’s smile that we all inherited

while avoiding all the things I’ve merited

in my life story

that is no linger true, nor is it real.

*

I’m becoming undone by those words that reveal.

‘we have the same moles on our faces that look like freckles,’

and all the while

my inner child boos and heckles

those things you are telling me that’s supposed to be real

cause all I wanna do is go home and begin to heal.

*

What I end up doing is writing and crying then write some more,

to try and discover the real and get past the lore.

Thinking about the ways we are so undoubtedly connected

as we sit here talking

I’m simultaneously dejected.

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Cognitive Dissonance & 2k16

 

Slowly coming into consciousness,

smells of pumpkin and sweet potato fills the room.

You open your eyes and think

discussions of religion & politics

are the horrible ones that loom.

*

You have to see family members

who question who you are

how you live

and where you work

Tis’ the season for fake hugs

and getting through slightly tough roast.

*

While almost simultaneously,

Native Americans fight to defend land that is clearly theirs,

Everyday having to face immense intimidation and violence

to provide their land with love and care.

*

Sleepless nights,

injuries increasing,

live footage being cut,

since protests aren’t ceasing.

*

Cognitive Dissonance is a very insidious thing,

It keeps white supremacy flowing

without you noticing the sting.

It creeps into our politics,

into our religions and our morals,

It creeps throughout our aesthetics,

and corrupts our mental core.

*

So while you are with your family and your loved ones,

hold them close and don’t hesitate,

to talk

of our horrid cognitive dissonance of 2k16

in the hopes that it will agitate.

Written by Me on 11.24.16

Please take some time to check out and sign this petition.

Then take some more time with your loved ones to purchase some essentials for those protecting Standing Rock here.

Until next time comrades,

-D

solidarity

Found by image search. The message remains the same.

 

 

 

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Stop & Feel.

Tension.

As I lay dying

blood oozing from my veins,

there’s a fleeting sense of peace

I’m finally done with fighting

for my freedom to be free.

As I begin to feel myself against the cool cement

I can’t stop myself from thinking this is meant-

-to be.

*

As I sit here dying

in front of my computer screen

latent feelings of regret

of all the fights for freedom

that I have left unseen.

Experiencing my vision blur

as I continue to focus on my happiness

all I see is newness and I whirl

into and upward spiral toward my bedroom ceiling

and all I can think is

at least I’ll stop reeling.

*

As I stand with my comrades

on the front lines in the street

I know this is a major vein of fighting

for freedom to be free.

With the strength of our ancestors

and support from our communities

We can hold the whole damn system

in contempt for their iniquities.

As I march in the street losing my voice

the pressure of the police state

we attempt to destroy

all I feel is love

and rage

breaking free of the cage

if only for a night

speaking truth like a sage

I’m one with my people

I let go of my stress

I’m at peace with

my comrades

my elders

my ancestors

my death.

Written by Me on 10.2.16

People on the ground need help and aid. They need money to bail out our captive warriors who were detained for fighting for freedom. Help fight against Black and Brown bodies being littered in the street by the people who are paid to protect and serve them. Help fight against white supremacy in a world of anti-blackness. Help speak Truth to Power.

You can help by donating  to the Freedom Fighter Bond Fund. You can help by spreading the word for others to donate!

Help the struggle manifest to victory! All we have to lose are our chains!

#BlackLivesMatter

#CharlotteUprising

#StopKillingUs

 

Until Next Time Comrades,

-D

 

 

 

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Sustenance in Rage.

I dedicate this post to all the Black Rage,

to all of us in mourning,

who are bound to a cage,

of all the little things getting in the way of the process,

of living

of grieving

leaving us shattered at best.

I have to let it out, let it be, I have to confess. Since moving to a new city I’ve obscured myself from the tragedies of anti-blackness around me, but in the past day I could no longer. So, these instances came flooding from the background to the foreground and I don’t even have time to process. So much pain and rage in my bones, I’m sent reeling. I start to forget days and lately I’ve lost the luxury of sleeping. So, I’m just going to put it out here and vent.

If Only Our Spilled Blood Could Sustain Us.

What does one do when breathing isn’t a luxury?

When going out alone after dark is taken for granted?

When your tail light is out and all you do is shrug it off?

When all you have to worry about is your 9 to 5 gig,

and the hardest thing is working on time management?

I’ll never know because of the target placed on me,

I’ll never know cause from this skin I cannot flee.

This body of mine is what keeps me confined

to a regiment of tactics used to survive it.

Going out after dark? You BETTER not go alone.

Who knows what might happen if you’re pulled over

all alone on the side of the road.

And don’t you dare have your tail light burn out while you drive,

that might be just the ticket to land your demise.

And what really is a 9 to 5 gig

when you have so many crippling examples that you ain’t worth it?

And everything you do reeks of your melanin and culture,

don’t back step, don’t you ever alter

one step of your walk,

breathe too deeply,

don’t you dare fall

one step behind because of your community.

Don’t let the senseless killings and systematic assaults of your kindred move you

to do anything less than your 100 percent,

or you too will be at risk to lose

your job

your grades

your health

your sanity

your life.

But what if we could figure out ways to attest it?

Ways to confront our twisted system in a way that arrests it?

Let’s convict our twisted ‘democracy’ and show them the real

anti-blackness at play

Show them the perpetual evil they slay.

What if everything had to stop working in each case of police and systematic brutality?

What if we all had to protest the fact that we are not yet really free?

Would that be a way to actively show the rate at which we are slain?

Could that be a way to emphasis the brutality and pain?

I don’t know, but one thing I do

is that at this point in my life I’m gonna have to

Call In Black.

Written by Me, 9.21.16

But seriously, try to do whatever you can to take care of yourself through these tumultuous times. Even if you gotta take days off. Even if you never intended on taking any days off but everything just compounds upon everything else until you don’t have your car, your health, or your wellness. In which case you just need to really take care of yourself before you actually do lose all the potential you’ve set up for yourself. You are not alone. Check out this video by Evelyn From the Internets and realize how not alone in this you are:

Don’t sacrifice your sanity to push your boulder up the never-ending hill. It’ll just get heavier and heavier until it kills you.

#BlackLivesMatter

#KeithLamontScott

#ItWasABook

#StopKillingUs

Until Next Time Comrades,

-D

stopkillingus

Found online.

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On Laila Nur’s Born Day WE Get a Present.

If y’all don’t know Laila Nur, you need to.

Here

Well, it was just Laila’s Born Day (Happy Born Day!) and in celebration, she blessed the WORLD with this amazing video that is ALL about blackness! CHECK OUT THIS DOPENESS:

You’re Welcome.

If you love it (which if you’re anything like me, you will), HERE is where you can download the song! Downloading the song goes a long way for Laila!

Laila is amazing and I just want to take some time out to acknowledge how much we all should be cherishing her excellence, creativity, and badassery!

Here’s to you, Laila!

Until Next Time,

-D

 

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