I want to Save Black People

I’m going to begin this post with an apology-to myself for not recording my thoughts more often. At least, not throughout the summer. I mean, I’ve written. I think I’d have a harder time dealing with myself if I didn’t record how I was feeling. But fear has kept me from posting. Having said that, I will apologize to my potential and current followers for not sharing. I believe we can each teach one; and many times, I find that my experiences are beneficial to others. Furthermore, I usually post about more existential realities through anectdotes. Those are philosophical, and always include an allorgical reference which we can each, probably, apply.

But here I go. Lately, I’ve been deep in seclusion, reflection, and space of just being. I’ve become somewhat of a recluse. And that’s on purpose. As an empath, I feel the weight of the world. As if, I’m waiting for my super power to kick in, so I can save the Black people. But alas, it hasn’t happened. And I’m emensely depressed over the fact that people still hate. People are ever so greedy. People seek approval and hyperbolize their lives for attention like a drug. And at the bottom, are yet still, the Blacks. The Blacks, often copied, never respected. Our culture. Often acculturated and appropriated, never given credit. Our hair, often ridiculed, often adopted. Our skin, often seen as an anomally, rarely attributed to its originality of life.

I’m tired. And while one may read this and say, Oh, here’s another angry Black woman. I say, No. I’m not angry. I’m just sad. Sad that in this day and age, people are dominated by White Supremacy. That one would think that I am seeking approval or acceptance from the hegemonic society, or that I at least should, is absurd. I’m no conformist. And I find that anytime I conform, I am depressed. So no thanky you; I am not seeking a seat at the table. I’d like to say, Fuck you. Go fuck yourself, and your job.

But oftentimes, we have to conform. We conform to be able to provide for our families. I lament the years Black people fought for integration. I think it was the biggest disservice to our race. I think the fight should have been, should still be, for access. We want access and equality. Not an opportunity to serve you. Don’t be fooled by our free nation, we are not free. Freedom comes with the equal access to acquiring real wealth. And I’m not speaking of the opportunity to play for your sports teams, or dance on a grand stage, like Beyonce. Black people, like all people are more than your entertaining monkeys. Stop looking to us as your monkeys. I don’t want a banana. I don’t want your foodstamps. I don’t want your handouts. I just want equal access to real contracts, money, owning networks, enterprises, the real money making machines. I don’t want to conform to you; it’d be nice to have others conform to us for a change without it being a conformity to our culture. Stop using us without giving a rat’s ass how it came to be; what others suffered to bring that to you; stop consuming our gifts as a birthright, and taking the credit for it. Stop White Supremacy.

I want the world to really be my oyster. However, I don’t want to be the oyster. When you see a Black person, try to forget what you think about them. Remove the stereotypes of what you think a Black person is. We are not angry, aggressive, theives, killers, gangbangers. And we don’t all like hip-hop or live a hip-hop lifestyle. I love hip-hop-the music, the elements, the artform. People watch videos, and think they are adopting a hip-hop lifestyle, still, cultural appropriation-albeit wrong-and want to act Black, whatever their notions of Black is, and yet, don’t really want to BE Black. They love what is perceived as Black culture, as if it’s wrapped in hip-hop, without the traumas of being Black. Black is not a culture, it is not a stain upon life. Black is a codefied word to describe peoples having African ancestry. Can you imagine thinking that a Black person from Papua New Ginea is hip-hop. Well, with the way of the world, who knows? Maybe their young people are embracing hip-hop. But when you find Europeans and Asians embracing hip-hop, without any respect to its founding people, I cringe.

Akashi walks through Uchawi Forest


Akashi left the palace at dawn, before anyone could stop her…

Even dressed in casual attire of a flowing white, sheer cotton, A-line dress, with white leather sandals, her royalty could not be abated. Her maids had bathed, and oiled her dark skin until it shown in the sun. They had placed her colorful, beaded-jewelry on her head, neck, waist and wrist. They had even applied her sacred and royal anklets on her ankles. Before leaving the palace, she removed her royal headdress, and placed it in a potted plant.

Her breast bounced with each swift step. They pressed against the sheer fabric and were large as pomegranates. Her hips were for ever-rounded, since her womanly cycle began 10 years ago. Her womanhood was protected by a thick surface of soft, curly, black bushel which matched her crown hair. Her strong back and callipygian frame remained taunt with each graceful step through the forest.

Her figure-eight silhouette enchanted the men, posing in their animal elements. The birds stepped out of their hiding to watch her float, almost, through the trees. Akashi greeted all as she made her way through the forest as quickly as possible. She was told to never walk without her guardians; nor without her driver, on horse and chariot which pulls her golden, red and purple, satin-lined, Carriage. She imagined her Carriage now, filled with Fonian pillows for a most-comforting ride. She was not thinking of the Chai tea, with milk and honey she could be sipping right now. Nor did she dwell upon the figs, nuts, dates and cheeses she loved so much. She needed to get to her great-grandmother’s burial site.

She pushed massive fans of heavily leaved, pliable branches away from her head of big hair. Still glistening with oil, her wooly hair  crowned her head as the sun, and protected her neck and shoulders from smaller flying insects. She made her way westward, away from the palace. In her right pocket, she held her crystals; the ones given to her at birth for protection and from spontaneous transformations which the lower class, who could not afford crystals, suffered. Transforming before others was detrimental to ones’ safety, as it revealed ones’ animal connection and power. It also revealed ones’ lineage. In this multi-ethnic, tribal society, it was important that ones saw you in human form to avoid issues with possible enemies and attack from stronger energies.

She intended to go visit her great-grandmother’s site before the Sun reached its peak of day. With only a few magical words and short ceremony of libation pouring, singing and drumming, she could always evoke her ancestor. Her beautiful great-grandmother always appeared in her normal intricately textile, royal dress, with her golden arm bands, and neck rings to show her Uchawan high-powered status. Her black-as-ebony skin paled only to the gold she wore. Her smooth skin shown and glistened with Shea butter and coconut oil. Her teeth were white as the Ivory tusks of the elephants she rode when she lived on Uchawi. Her full lips were soft and plump; and the color of purple berries. As a gentle spirit, she was known to greet all with love. She was naturally sensual and known for her hypnotic qualities. Her lips were said to be holders of honey, and she would extend them into a brilliant smile to lift her full cheekbones, and elongate her almond-shaped eyes to near slits. No one could deny her. She was known as the most beautiful woman ever lived. And Akashi, who was her mirror image, had huge slippers to fill. She was to be queen as her great-grandmother had been. Such a fate was both scary and nerve-wrecking.

Akashi felt anxious with each step towards her destination. She was losing time quickly.

She needed her great-grandmother’s help. As the daughter of Isis-Empress of the Moon, she was betrothed to the young, Loko, who would become High Priest, since he was the first son of the Dahomey Kingdom, of the great Serpent Damballah, King of the Sun. Only her great-grandmother could stop this bonding to Loko. Only she could approve Akashi’s joining with another.