A poem and stream of conscious realization on Black Joy.

June 9th, 2020
401. 401+ years. 4+ centuries.
I spent the past couple of weeks processing in a very traumatic state of mind.
When I saw that video of Ahmaud, I saw myself running. I saw my brother get lit up by a shotgun.
When I saw that video of George, I saw my neck being crushed. I saw Shaka’s life fading.
When I heard what happened to Breonna, I saw my sisters. I thought of Elodie.
God please don’t take my loved ones away like this. Not like this.
My mind was heavy and my shoulders were bouldered down by the systemic racism that plagues this world.
Our black bodies have been looted, stolen, possessed, used and tormented for far too long.
I Am George. I am Trayvon. I am Freddie. I am Breonna.
I Am Ahmaud.

401+ years. 4+ centuries. 4+ centuries.
of burden on my back.
My brother’s back. My sister’s back. Elodie’s back. Shaka’s back.
Black backs.

401. 401+ years. 4+ centuries.
The very fact that it has been 401+ years and You have been blind to what is plaguing our community is both disheartening and appalling.
Ignorance Is Bliss, They Say.
What more do You want to see from us to show and tell You what we are going through daily?
While we are busy feeding Your greedy fat bellies with our culture and life for You to imitate and snatch, You are failing to realize Your repercussions from our crosses.
Our skin is molded in pain and strength.
There is not a day that goes by that I feel my life will be cut short by You.
It is what drives me to work hard to create art that heals the generational trauma You bring us.
yet even still, We Work So Hard To Die So Easy.

401. 401+ years. 4+ centuries.
It is interesting seeing true colors.
I spent the past couple of weeks processing the protests, the news, the media.
Processing the peaceful protests that went south due to the police abusing their power.
Seeing the silence from my white peers who opted to post black squares and pat their back in assured confidence that they have indeed done the right thing.
Seeing the silence from organizations and shouts from companies who are capitalizing on this moment by throwing us billions of dollars.
All the while rubbing their greedy fat bellies because our issues are not Their issues.
We Can Not Be Bought With Money.

401. 401+ years. 4+ centuries.
The very fact that it has been 401+ years and we are still fighting for the 2/5ths of our humanity that was stripped and taken from us is both disheartening and appalling.
Emotions range from tears, to anger, to resilience. But it always ends in resilience.
We are resilient my black sisters and brothers. Look at what we have accomplished.
We built this world with our bloodied hands and torn backs.
Everything the world consumes comes from us.
The World Is Ours.

401. 401+ years. 4+ centuries.
As we continue to protest and fight for our rights, I feel something different this time around.
A couple of years ago when Freddie passed away, Baltimore and the world was on fire.
It felt as if there was nothing we could do to uproot the system in place that was created to clasp us down. This time I get a different range of feelings. Tears. Anger. Resilience.
This time I see all 50 states protesting.
I see all walks of life around the world. Protesting.
Recognizing the brutal ways our black bodies have been looted, stolen, possessed, used and tormented.
My only prayer is that this continues as we work to dismantle educational reform, financial literacy, criminal justice reform and health care reform...
But in order to do that, we as a Black community must turn inward.

June 18th, 2020
Radical Joy In The Black Community.
Last week, I was in shock while listening to Clarence B. Jones speak to us.
Here is a man who has seen it all; from rising with MLK and seeing his life ripped apart along with other prominent activist leaders, to seeing this Trayvon Generation we are currently in.
His countenance was infectious.
Here is a man who lived in the thick of Black protests for our rights and isn’t hardened or worn down by years of struggle and deaths.
Here Is A Man With Black Glow. No One Can Take His Joy.
I almost don’t recognize my words from earlier. I no longer think about my life being cut short by You.
Us simply breathing is resistance.



















June 19th, 2020
These weights on my shoulders have become wings.

tattoo by: Jaiden