Dear Mr. X

I will never send this letter to you, but I have some things to say. I know you think all I talk about is sex. I know you think all I care about is fucking you out of curiosity. Some of that is true. But, I really do like you. Your personality is odd, but traditional at the same time. You have the ideas that are pasted on top of our true selves by society, but some how you still come up with your own unique take on things. You are a tad obsessed with big fake boobs, but can see the immorality of some of the basic American institutions. You can share intimate details of your childhood or pain over a relationship, but can’t grasp the toxic relationships in your own house. Insecurity is your middle name. But you have an intuitiveness that is unrivaled. I appreciate all of that in you. You fascinate me, dear. You can be so sweet and SO rude. I can relate to some much of you. I see myself in you. You see, dearheart, I’m an odd one too. I never fit in, anywhere. I’m a black girl who loves sci-fi, Black power, Kanye West, Incubus & Jonny Lang. Been raised in two cultural and can relate to both and sometimes can’t stand either. Can’t spell a lick, but some say I’m brilliant. Raised by a “black Muslim” that is now a self-proclaimed Republican (although, I am highly doubtful of that political affiliation, but I digress). I come from a family of rebels. I’m just as insecure as you about some things and hide it just as badly as you do. You are sweet and silly. Goofy and kind. Mean and mellow. I like it all. Would it be weird between us? Definitely. Would it be interesting between us? Certainly. Are we exactly what the other was looking for or expected? Hardly. I don’t know, but life seems to short to wait for the expected thing to happen, don’t you think?

Prophetic

Banking establishments are more dangerous than standing armies.
-Thomas Jefferson

Graveyard revisited

I have rarely in the time I have kept this blog revisited an entry. I even let the misspelled word remain and leave the absent modifiers and conjunctions. This blog is an expression of me in a raw form. So, the imperfections I can tolerate. I’m not writing the great American novel. (Well, not here anyway.) I also rarely comment back to comments left by the anonymous and not-so-anonymous readers. Of course, since I have removed myself from the tyranny of a paper that wanted me to write for free I have a lot less readers. But I some of loyal friends and supports check in now and then. I let a few read the Graveyard post from a few days ago. One told me to stop boo-whoing because no one wants to hear it and lose weight. Another, one I respect, said I seem so defeated. Well, sometimes I do feel defeated. Sometimes I do feel like boo-whoing (or is it boo-hooing). But the point of the post was to explain I WAS defeated. I WAS weeping. The point was to say: I want new dreams. I want new realities. I want new aspirations. I want a new narrative in my head. I want a new mantra. Writing is sometime cathartic. Writing sometimes expels pains. I needed to post that piece to get those emotions out of me. Now, that they are out on electronic paper, I can move on. I can began to rebuild my narrative. I can rebuild my dreams. I can rebuild my new reality. And with all the fantastical things that has happened this week. I can. I will. I must. I am.

A day like no other

I witnessed history today. I witnessed glory today. I witnessed amazement today. The dream of the slave. The dream of the segregated. The dream of downtrodden. Once. considered three fifths of a white man. Now, President of the United States of America. I am overwhelmed. I am ecstatic. I am reborn. Maybe this second generation Militant will be able to soften. (A little anyway.) The peaceful transfer of power. A speech that not only acknowledged the greatness of the day, but the fantastic task ahead. It was so dynamic. It was so strong. It was so unapologetic. It was so REAL. He is a man. He is a Black man. He is an American man. President Barack Obama.

Dream Graveyard

I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but I feel like this is necessary so I can move on. Move on with what? Life. I have been stuck for the last 9 years. Maybe longer. Definitely longer if I’m honest. (Maybe since 5th grade when that boy spit on me and called me fat.) I had a list of dreams. Not big dreams. Modest dreams. Or so I thought. My 14 year old self dreamed of a family, a great husband that adored me, great kids, a house, and pets. As I grew older, my dream became a little more intricate. My 17 year old self, as a freshman in college, knew the University was going to be the place where I met my other half, my split apart, The One, some guy who FINALLY understood me. My 19 year old self wanted to become a Pan-African Studies College Professor. Well, none of that happened for reasons still unclear to me. My 21 year old self decided I would go to law school because I hated blood and didn’t want to go to med school. I NEVER thought about being a lawyer. In fact, I bought into the LIE told by law school recruiters: a law degree is versatile, you can do anything with it. (Of course, later in 2008, I would overhear a judge, a 20 year veteran, say “I still don’t know what else you can do with a law degree besides practice law.”) I didn’t have the One, and I thought for sure I would find him in the prestigious halls of law school. And then my dreams could begin. I had certainly gave myself a great set up: a top tiered law school in HOTlanta, the Black Mecca, the Black Urban Paradise, the Land of the Black Bourgeoisie. Well, that didn’t happen either and, by the way, I despised law school and wanted to drop out almost instantly. I was even homeless for about 3 or 4 months in Hotlanta. Moved by to Louisville. Failed the bar. (Had to teach the subjects to myself because I couldn’t afford a couple of thousand dollar prep class.) Pass the bar (after taking a break for a LONG time). Became a prosecutor. How did I get here, I wondered. A prosecutor? No where in my dreams was a vision of Jack McCoy. I’m 34. Single. No kids. No pets. No family of my own. A career I just fell into. No house I own. These dreams are dead. I gotta find some new ones. I have to lay these old ones to rest. I got given them the proper burial. I have to release them. They are weighing me down like a ship’s anchor and pulling me further and further into a dark abyss. I’m not exactly sure how to do it. But the dreams are gone.

Never Underestimate Symbolism

I heard someone tonight say that Obama is only a man. This is true. He’s not God with the BIG G, but I think we are all gods with a little g…but, I will speak on that another time. Obama is a man. But never forget the power of a symbol. The Cross is a symbol of Christianity. The Star and Crescent is the symbol of Islam. The Star of David is the symbol of Judaism. Don’t tell me a symbol is not important. The noose is a symbol. The burning cross is a symbol. The white dunce hat of the KKK is a symbol. Symbols seep into the psyche of the people. Obama is a symbol that will seep into the minds of everyone in this country. Little Black boys AND little Black girls will see what a REAL Black man looks like, acts like, speaks like, loves like, and leads like. Michelle will show little Black boys AND little Black girls that she is not “brown but beautiful.” Just beautiful, elegant, poised, graceful and strong. Little Sasha and Malia will show little Black boys AND little black girls how to be polite, studious, and happy. The whole Obama family will show how a black family loves and clings to one another in times of stress. Don’t tell me a symbol doesn’t matter. We may not the true significance of the 44th President for another 20 or 30 years, maybe even a hundred! The Obamas will show white Americans, what we have known all along: there are thousands and thousands of Baracks, Michelles, Sashas, and Malias! Black people are just not pimps and prostitutes or drug dealers and rock monsters! They are lawyers, doctors, police officers, business owners, teachers, and computer analysts. The Black middle class is finally revealed. Barack Obama is a man, a leader, a lawyer, a father, a husband, a president, and a GREAT, SHINY symbol for all the world to see!!!