What Can I Say?

I know it’s been a while since I wrote a post. Please forgive me. Life got in the way. I went to sleep the night of Tuesday, November 8th praying that God’s will be done in the presidential election. I awoke the next day realizing that Donald Trump had won the election. Wow! I sighed. I cried. I felt defeated.

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I said “God, you are Sovereign. Your will be done.” It was. I’ve come to terms with it. Accepted it. Released all pain and fear to the one who leads my life. He knows what’s going on. I choose to trust in Him.

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That being said, I am like many of you. I will not tolerate any form of discrimination, fear or hate. I will not go quietly in the night and allow bullies to rule the land where my ancestors died. Can’t you hear it?

Freedom.

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Freedom from tyranny and oppression. Freedom from racism and misogyny. Freedom from bullies. I will and I can live in the country where I was born. I will pray. I will trust in the almighty.

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I am but one of many. I have a voice. I have witnessed the hate crimes being shown in the media. It’s heartbreaking. It’s scary. But, I will survive. You will survive. We will survive. If we unite together. We are one.

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October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month #abuse #domesticviolence

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month and several of my posts this month will focus on the seriousness of #DV. If you are in an abusive relationship, find resources from a “sa…

Source: October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month #abuse #domesticviolence

Mistake

I loved him.

I craved him.

I allowed him to do things to me that you can only imagine.

My body was his.

My soul was his.

My mind was his.

He was the puppet master and I was the puppet.

Love.

Love was fleeting to him.

I was one of the others.

Other women.

Other loves.

Other.

He couldn’t be bothered.

Bothered with getting to know me.

To see me.

To truly know what makes me tick.

Maybe if he had, he would have known.

That I was losing it.

Losing my mind with all these games.

Lost in my head with sex.

Lost without him.

I was lost.

I didn’t like losing.

That’s why I made sure that he knew

that I wasn’t a mistake.

That this wasn’t a mistake.

That this love was forever.

My 22 caliber pistol showed him

that a love like ours was eternal.

It could never be a mistake.

 

This post was inspired by the Daily Post. The word of the day was mistake.

Three Things I Want You to Know – 11/21

This week was rough ya’ll. I’m thinking about taking a break from social media including blogging. I realized that I am too empathetic and this is causing me to get discouraged in humanity. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind. Wondering what is going on in this world.

So, my three things that I want you to know this weekend are based off some of the things that are floating around on Facebook and in the media.

  1. Black women are not responsible for all the ills of the world. We are not solely responsible for raising our children. It takes two. Black women love themselves and I will admit that all of us have issues. Everyone, not just black women, but to say that we lack self-love and therefore we teach our sons the same thing so they have no regards for life is a fallacy that needs to stop being circulated. Instead, I implore you to change your environment and become mentors to children that don’t have a father or mother in the home and stop making blanketed statements about black women. I am a black woman and I am raising a son with no man in the house. He will be fine. Many other black boys will be too.
  2. I’m a black person. A black woman. I am not giving my black card back to the quasi-pro black police because I changed my Facebook picture in support of solidarity to the lives lost on Friday, November 13th. I know France’s history and I also know the history of the U.S. We’re no better. I can have sympathy for the tragedies that occurred in a country where my son is learning to speak their language. A place where I plan to visit in the next couple of years. To a country that has seen more tragedies than many of us can imagine. But, I’m still black. According to The New York Times there are approximately 8 million blacks living in Europe and I can support whoever the heck I want because first and foremost I am a child of God. I pray for everyone regardless of their race, nationality, religion or sexual preference.
  3. This grandstanding on not letting Syrian refugees in our country is getting on my last dang nerve. Who are you? Dang, didn’t we steal this country from the Native Americans? Aren’t we refugees? Not everyone is a terrorist and not everyone who is a Muslim is a potential threat. We have to stop this foolishness. We are a country that loves our guns but can’t stop the American terrorists who were born and raised in America from shooting up schools, killing children or blowing up government buildings and we think we are safe? These people are running from the wars in their country and seeking refuge. Hell, I want to seek refuge sometimes because I’m scared of a radical American shooting up schools. We have to stop acting like we care about people and tie it to other issues of social injustices. Separate them. Attack them one at a time. If you are not part of the solution, step the heck back and stop being a part of the problem.

Rant over.

Have a great weekend loves!

Assault at Spring Valley High

Please Note: This post has a video clip. If you are receiving this post via email, please click on the title and read it from my site directly to see the videos.

 

By now many of you have seen the video of the school resources officer, Deputy Ben Fields, in Richland County, South Carolina and the violent way in which he called himself removing a student. A FEMALE student. Can you believe it? Do you understand why I scream #BLACKLIVESMATTER?

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This is ridiculous! I’m outraged that a man is using excessive force on a CHILD. We are trying to teach our children that bullying is wrong and this dang officer is the bully. He’s using a badge to use brute force on our children.

Haven’t seen the video? Check it out here:

Do you see why our black children are afraid of law enforcement? Do you see why our black children are taught that if you encounter a white cop that you just be compliant and not resist? The child didn’t resist. She just shut down. This law official just threw her like she was a rag doll. As a human being you can’t tell me that he was justified in any way. He is a MONSTER!

Apparently, she was being disruptive. Disruptive! She was disruptive because she had her phone out. Are you serious? Disruptive means that you get to be dragged out with brute force and thrown around the room like a rag doll because you had pulled your cell phone out? No, it doesn’t.

This child was a victim of police brutality and this officer should lose his badge at the very least. I am too angry to think what I would have done if this man had manhandled my niece. I can’t find words to describe the pain I feel watching this video.

When you watch the video notice how the children don’t move or seem shocked that this is happening. What the heck is going on in this school? What about the teacher? Where the heck is the educator to not speak up or try to intervene on this child’s behalf? Aren’t you partly to blame? You like to watch children being manhandled with excessive force by a man who looks like he’s on steroids?

I send my son to school to get an education. To become a productive educated young man who will make a difference. To not be a victim of police brutality. I can’t help when he walks out the door and gets accosted walking because he’s black, but dang my tax payer dollars don’t support police brutality in the school.

I am praying for that young girl. I’m praying for the children in that class who didn’t seem shocked to see this kind of behavior and I’m praying that every human rights organization from the ACLU to the NAACP find out what kind of education and force are being used on our children at that school and fire every last person.

Is there any place our children are safe?

 

Dating Chronicles: Dang Stalkers

I haven’t written one of these “Dating Chronicles” in a while, but I couldn’t help myself and had to share what the heck happened to me on Sunday. So, you remember my post where I went out and got “turnt up” the week before? Well, the gentleman that I went out with was someone who I had met and known for a little over a year.

We met on-line and he then tells me he has a girlfriend. Umm, really boo? I stopped him dead in his tracks and explained that I don’t date another woman’s man so he could lose my number. He said, “I’m just trying to be your friend.” “Okay” I thought. I reiterated that “I don’t do that to other women and that friendship is all that we will ever be.” “Okay” he replied.

We went out a total of 6 times over the last year. We took turns paying for outings because I didn’t want to confuse him or give him reason to think he was dating me. We were hanging out in my opinion. All said outings occurred prior to 6 pm. Well, he broke up with his girlfriend in February and called to tell me.

I sympathized and told him to take his time to get his mind right because he had been in a long-term relationship (over 2 years) and needed to heal. Well, life got in the way and we hadn’t spoken in over the 3 months. He was on my mind so I sent him a text a to check-in and see how he was doing. He said he was good. He told me that he had met someone at his job and they were dating and trying to figure things out. “That’s good” I told him. He asked “When can I take you out?” I responded, “Umm, well I don’t have any plans tonight and my girlfriend wants me to come out to her bar where she is working.”

He responded, “I don’t have any money” today so maybe next week. I told him, “It’s cool. I got it.” He agreed to go. He told me that we could take one car and so I met him at the metro station and parked my car. He drove us to the bar which was 10 minutes away. It was like old times. We settled into the familiar and ordered bar food and drinks and caught up.

We had a good time and he drove me back to my car. We gave each other a hug and I told him that I would text him when I got in the house. I did. Went to sleep. Hungover for the next couple of days. Got busy. He sent a text. I responded. He called a few times, I didn’t call back. He then sends me the following text messages:

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I was livid. How could someone call themselves a friend and then feel used when they didn’t even pay for said outing? I apparently was under the impression that this guy could be happy with just being friends. Apparently not. He wanted more. Much more. I’m just hurt that I wasn’t able to see that.

I’ve blocked his number. Blocked him from Facebook and Google circles. Thankfully, he doesn’t know where I live. Why? Because as I told you that I don’t allow randoms to know where I lay my head. Friend or not. No way.

I have to be honest though….I felt stupid. I was really wondering how I couldn’t see this man’s chemical imbalance for what it was worth. How could I not recognize that this guy was lying and biding his time until he could someday get lucky? How sick is that? How long would this act continue? He thanked me that night for being a friend which was a lie because he was never my friend. He was a perpetrating loser.

As a survivor of sexual assault and abuse I have to admit that his psychotic outburst had me scared. Had me thinking that had he not played his hand he would have actually forced himself on me someday. It scared me to think that I had actually befriended this man. That I believed he was a decent human being. What was I thinking?

 

No More

No more please. No more killing of our black babies and offering up excuses. I’m tired. As a mother to a black boy, this is my deepest fear. A fear that he will not be here on this Earth all the days of my life because of senseless violence. I mean Michael Brown and Ferguson is still fresh in my mind and now we hear about Tamir Rice? How could this happen?

A boy. A baby. Not even a teenager. A child. He is six years older than my son. He is a black boy. He is someone’s son. He is not going to go on his first date. He will not go to his prom. He will not graduate high school. He will not go to college. He will not get married. He will not be a father. He is dead.

How does this happen? Why are our children being used as target practice. No more. I can’t take it. I have a son. I don’t let him play with guns. I don’t let him play video games. I don’t allow him to play alone any where. I organize play dates and I organize outings. Why? Because I’m afraid. I’m afraid that he will be used as target practice and there is nothing no one will be able to tell me.

I’m crying. Literally writing this piece with tears rolling down my face. I’m scared. Scared of looking into the eyes of my son and knowing that because he is a black boy that no matter what I do to prepare him to not be viewed as a threat, he may be killed senselessly by law enforcement. This is heartbreaking to me.

To make matters worse, how the heck can someone like former Mayor of NYC Rudy Giuliani even justify cops killing blacks by saying that “White police officers wouldn’t be in black neighborhoods, killing black men, if you weren’t killing each other.” Are you kidding me? Why would you even say that? To say that our tax dollars don’t buy us the right to have officers serve and protect without killing us or using the stop-and-frisk method because of the color of our skin is of true offense.

Understand this…I mourn all deaths due to senseless violence. But let’s get real, if my son was murdered by someone who is not a law enforcement official we would hopefully see some sort of justice. If it is law enforcement that murders him then the odds that something will happen are slim to none. He will still be dead and his murderer will be free.

My plea is simple:  Please stop killing our children. Please stop murdering my brothers, fathers, cousins and uncles. Please stop protecting those that kill the innocent. Please prosecute those who kill our children. I will go home and be able to kiss my munch, listen to him tell me about his day at school, listen to him tell me how he can’t wait to go to his grandma’s house for Thanksgiving and listen to him tell me that he loves me tonight. I will get to put him asleep, kissing his forehead and sending prayers of thanks to God for another day with him. Tamir’s parents do not have that luxury. They will have to plan a funeral.

Tamir Rice
Tamir Rice