Baggage Check: Racism

So, the other day I received a comment on my post Dear White People that needed to be approved. I read the comment and sent that garbage to spam. Why? Because this is my blog and I don’t allow your BS or baggage on it. Writer’s prerogative.

I go check out the page of the person and was shocked that WordPress even allows this foolishness here: This person is a white supremacist talking that racist BS that will destroy America and allow you the anonymity that you can claim in cyber world. Let me be clear, I don’t do racism or white supremacy. Not in real life or in cyberspace.


He’s referring to blacks as niggers. Really? So, it takes a real man to hide in cyberspace and try to fuel the hate in so many people. Be authentic in your hate. Show your face. Spread your hate without a white robe.


Let me be clear…I am about the inclusiveness of all people and no race is better than another. We were all created by one God and are descendants of Adam and Eve. I don’t care who you voted for (because I serve a Heavenly Father) and I will not allow people to disrespect me or my space. If you want to blame everything going on in the world on everyone else then check yourself.


I don’t fear terrorists from other countries when we raise more terrorists in America than those that enter our borders. The face of terrorism to me is not brown. Take your hatred of all those that seek peace and kick rocks. We will not go quietly in the night.


This election has allowed those white supremacists to show their true colors and think that it is acceptable to disrespect people of color. It is not. I will not allow you to come for me or my family. I will not allow you to disrespect any group that I support (women, children, men, veteran’s, the LGBQT family, people of color or any other group). We are one. United we stand.





What? Where am I? What is the place?

I feel the damp and dank smell of a basement. Unwashed clothes and mold attack my senses. My hands are tied. Breathe.

I keep telling myself to breathe. I was confused.

In and out. Breathe. Focus. I need to focus.

Remember what you can.

How did you get here? What were you doing last?

Breathe and remember.

I remember being at the church mixer. The singles group had an event for all singles looking to make a Christian connection. It was boring. I remember standing by the punch bowl wishing it had vodka in it.

A handsome young man came over and introduced himself. He said his name. What was his name? Focus. What was his name?


Greg, that was his name!

He made me laugh by echoing my thoughts exactly. Don’t you wish you had some vodka for this punch? It would truly lighten up the party. Do you know where they keep the communion wine?

I laughed. He was funny. He talked to me about why he came here. His family. His dreams. The only child of a retired preacher. He was an avid missionary. He went on missions all the time and had only been back in town a week. His dad was a member of the church. He had told him about tonight’s mixer.

He laughed when he said that his parents supported his missionary work,but wanted him to settle down with a nice girl and give them some grandchildren. He loved building houses in Haiti, teaching children how to read in Guatemala or digging water wells throughout sub-Saharan Africa.

I liked him. I smiled. He asked me about my boring life. I was an only child too. My parents thought me an old maid. Were harassing me to get married too. I just finished my Master’s degree and was a teacher. I loved teaching. I loved children.

He smiled. He invited me out for drinks at the restaurant around the corner. I agreed. He was gorgeous. Nice suit. Nice smell.

His scent. What was that scent? I love that scent.

It was Sandalwood. I loved that scent on a man.

I remember the restaurant was lively. We sat and talked for hours. We ordered our last drink. I remember having to go to the restroom. I came back and finished up my drink. He walked me to the car.

We talked. We laughed. We exchanged numbers. We made plans for dinner the next night.

He opened my car door. I got inside. He closed the door.

What happened next?

Oh God! I can’t remember. 

I start to panic. Tears are streaming from my face. The door at the top of the stairs opens. I hear footsteps. I can’t see who it is yet.

It was Greg!

Greg walks down the stairs. Slowly. He’s naked.

What is that in his hands?

A knife. He’s holding a knife. Oh my God!

Help me God! I silently pray.

He climbs on top of me and whispers in my ear. “You think you’re so pretty. So smart.”

Tears continue to roll down my face.

The tip of the blade punctures my side.

I’m no longer confused.

I know that I’m going to die.




This post was written as part of the Daily Prompt. The word is confused


What Are We Waiting For?

All these atrocities occurring all over the world have definitely put a damper on blogging and in all actuality reading some of your blogs. I get it. We are so exhausted from the fact that it seems like non-stop tragedy after tragedy. We appear to be on a roller coaster of highs and lows and when will it end? When will we stop feeling like we are watching a horror film play on the nightly news or on our cell phone alerts? Can we catch a break?

We are all getting burned out. Waiting for the next tragedy. Waiting for the next police shooting. Waiting.

It didn’t help that as soon as I came back from a wonderful weekend of sun and fun I had to attend an Active Shooter Training at my job. Really? All this tragedy in the world and I need to attend this right now? Ugh!

The officer who taught the class was very thorough and it was informative, but it really dampened my mood. I started worrying and waiting for the next dang tragedy or atrocity to occur. I mean isn’t this what we’re all doing? Waiting.

We need to stop waiting for tragedy and just wait on the Lord. I had to accept that. I’m waiting for man, when I should be waiting on God.

Isaiah 40:31 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

31 but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.

Tragedy is going to happen, but we can’t get so consumed that we forget to live. We have to live. We have to have fun. We have to do silly things. We have to have meaningless conversations. We have to stop waiting for more tragedy and just rejoice in the fact that we are alive and blessed.

Here’s 5 Things You Can Do Instead of Wait:

  1. Learn a new hobby or craft. I decided to journal. Journal random thoughts or pictures of interest. Quirks or phrases. Hey, they might actually make a blog topic sometime.
  2. It’s the summer. Even if your funds are limited take day trips to places. Munch and I are doing a day trip to the beach early next month. Can’t wait.
  3. Read an interesting book. I love the smell of books even though I read a lot of books on my IPad, but check around some of your bloggers may have books that are out that you can read and review.
  4. Spend time with friends and family. Yes, remember that this is the season for cookouts and reunions. Share some fun and laughter with your friends and family. Just get out of the house and experience life by taking photos with your loved ones.
  5. Volunteer work. This is an excellent opportunity to give back to your community and realize how blessed you are. There are people who are homeless, sick or need mentors. Whatever your heart’s desire, be compelled to spend some time with others in need. It helps renew you on the fact that we have real issues that we need to focus on.

There you have it. Stop waiting and start living. Start enjoying the life you have because you only get one.



These Are Perilous Times

I didn’t want to write this. Another post about the injustices of those who are supposed to serve and protect killing two men last week. The videos. Social media. I couldn’t. I was too emotionally drained. Angry. Frustrated. Scared. Heartbroken.

So, I prayed. I prayed for healing for our nation. I prayed for the families of the victims. I prayed for the families of the officers who committed these heinous crimes. I prayed for the officers murdered in Dallas. I prayed.

In times of trouble there is not much I can do but write, protest and pray.

I can use my words to talk about the things that black parents feelbut you know.

I can talk to you about how I’m afraid for our black men dying at the hands of policebut you know.

I can talk to you about how I feel about our black girls dying too – but you know.  

I can tell you how it feels to be the mother of a black boy – but you can probably guess.

So, what is the purpose of this post? To simply ask you to look through a different lens. A lens outside of your own. Take me for example…Let’s see, you know that I love my son more than life itself. That he is the reason that I truly understand God’s love because he gifted him to me. You know that. You know that I spoil him, chastise him, kiss him, run him back and forth to the many activities and I record every moment of his life. Afraid to miss anything.

He is valuable.

He was wonderfully created and made by God.

Just like each of you.

But, I can’t understand why in this country we wear blinders and act like racism doesn’t exist. Let me break it down for you…It does. I’ve experienced it first-hand.

Do I believe that every white person is a racist or that every situation is about race? No, I don’t. Many black people don’t believe that either. But, I need you to understand this…we have to stop acting like we can’t talk about race or that racism doesn’t exist. 

When you can justify the killing of two black men as “they were probably doing something wrong” you’re part of the problem.  When you can write about someone’s past as fact and they are the victim,  you’re part of the problem. We have a problem people. Let’s own the problem and find a solution. 

Will you ever understand what it feels like to be black? No. No more than I can imagine what it’s like to be white, gay, Jewish or Muslim but that doesn’t mean that I don’t empathize with other human beings when things happen in communities outside my own.

We’re all human.

We all matter.

We were all created by God!

A righteous and just God that I have faith will heal this hurting nation.

Can you understand that?

I, like most black parents, fear for my son. I fear that he will be presumed guilty if he ever encounters a police officer. Judged on the streets and not the courtroom. He will be judged not by a righteous and just man. But, by someone who will see his beautiful skin color as a threat. It won’t matter that he’s a child or that he has no criminal background. He will be assumed guilty because he is black.

So, I want to know that the public servants (law enforcements) who may encounter my son treat him fairly. The way that they treat others who look like them. If they do shoot my son unjustly, I want the person to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. It’s that simple.

Do you know what it’s like to not let your son play with certain toys because you don’t want him to get gunned down like Tamir Rice? No toy guns. No real guns. Even though you have a right to bear arms in this country, the second amendment wasn’t designed to protect you Munch!

That’s what I have to explain to him. That’s what I have to tell my son someday. Our dirty laundry that the history books leave out. Do you tell your children the truth about our country’s history or do you omit it hoping and praying for better days?

The whole “if you don’t know your history you’re bound to repeat it” rings in my head. Are we repeating history? Silently. This thumping with the songs from my ancestors playing lowly in the background…We Shall Overcome!

We shall overcome.

When we stand united.

When we stand as one loving people knowing that we won’t allow the bad apples of our society to taint our generation.

To stain the fabric of our humanity.

We shall overcome.


What’s Going On? Prayers for Orlando

“life is all about being like water…come what may you have to cross all hurdles and keep on flowing…Its all about moving towards a better tomorrow…” – Being Mommie

Aren’t the above words so encouraging? I think so. A fellow blogger over at Being Mommie left it this morning on another post. I thought it was befitting in light of the tragedy that occurred yesterday in Orlando at the nightclub Pure.

I awoke yesterday morning early for church. It was Children’s Day. My church was allowing the children to lead the service. To praise and give honor to God. Munch was singing and performing a poem with his church school class. We had to be at church early. I looked at my Ipad to check the weather and saw a New York Times notification about the shooting.

I paused. I couldn’t believe it. I opened up the notification and read the disturbing details that 49 people had been gunned down and 53 people were hospitalized. I said a prayer. I asked God to please heal this world. To watch over the family and friends of the victims and injured. To please allow justice to prevail for those that commit crimes against humanity.

I sighed. I was tired of hearing about the senseless violence that prevails our country. We seem to be getting worse. Whether you believe that gun control is the issue or not is of little relevance at this point. A gun was used to kill innocent people who went out for a night of partying. These night club patrons never expected a night of bullets to erupt.

But it did. It has.

These victims have friends and family that will mourn them as I do. I, who have no connection to the victims mourn for the mothers and fathers that lost their children on Children’s Day. That won’t get to spend any more birthdays or holidays loving their children. That won’t get to hear the simple words of “Hi Mom” or “Hi Dad” when they call their children.

No words can explain the pain of losing a child so I won’t try to. However, I need you to understand that this violence is ripping the fabric in our humanity and we need to do something. We are hurting yet again because bullets don’t know a man or woman’s color, religion or sexual orientation. Hate can’t win.

Love must win. In all situations. Love must prevail. It just has to. Because just like the quote above we have to move towards a better tomorrow.

Blood makes noise

A must read from Daisy at Daisy in the Willows.

Daisy in the Willows

I had nothing prepared to blog about  in my mind. Again – I thought. No inspiration to type anything.

I’m finding out my inspiration comes from reading your posts!

So thank you .

Today I want to thankAnnette @ Annettes place  – post on child hood scars  and her using the daily prompt. 

Her  child hood scars remind me of my own scars.

One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide.  Indented, It reminds me of  a dried up river.

The cause?

Domestic violence.

Before I continue..

I do want to point out  this month is MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS week in the UK.

The theme  and focus  for 2016 is on relationships

I’m going to state the obvious here.

Domestic violence in a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the…

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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!