buying black

I was talking to one of my daughters's about the economic power that Black Americans have, and that we don't understand how we could shut systems down by wielding this power.  The issue is we are used to creature comforts.  Meals cooked in  20 minutes and under, because everything is bought already prepared, or healthy remedies, pre-packaged as natural, sold at a discount rate. That is the key, discount rate.  These businesses buy in bulk so that they can sell at competitive prices, and that is all and good, but what about those small, up and coming ventures, headed by those who look like you.

First, we must change our mindset.  Just because it is cheap, clearly does not mean it is right for us, especially as a people.  Black-own does not mean inferior.  I think I should repeat that.  BLACK OWNED DOES NOT MEAN INFERIOR.  The reason I would like to bring light to this particular mindset is when you buy black; please expect to pay a little more.  This is an investment in who you are and where you fit in this chaotic world.  We have been brainwashed to believe anything black is substandard. They sell us this bullshit so often; we begin to believe that it is our original thought.  Why is it the only time Black owned business succeed is when white people find validity in it.

Pay a little more, because it is an investment in your own life. I am starting to buy black, whenever possible, and it is not cheap but I have found the beauty in a well-made skirt, vibrant in color and soft to the touch.  I find that my daughters and my sons hair is rich, thick and soft to the touch.  I used so many store bought products for my face, to slow aging and whatever else it promised, found that coconut oil and cocoa butter is damn near perfect.  The money I have saved in discontinuing purchasing these products, will go to those victims that can no longer help their own.  I learn that I LOVE African cuisine, because I no longer eat Applebee's.  I reminded myself I can cook, and my burgers do taste better than Wendy's, and if I want to dine out, Sweet Pie's is out there, and I know there are more.

So here is a challenge, send me the names and locations of Black owned business.  Where are they?
What do they sale? How do we reach out to them?  We need to start building ourselves, before we are no longer.  As history has proven over and over again, unless we hit them in the pocket, they are deaf to our voices.

Soldiers in the Field

Yesterday I was speaking with a woman whom I work with; she is white.  I was talking to her about a post that my son's best friend's grandmother(also white) had put on my facebook page.  I was showing her this post because this woman did what every woke white person in America did.  She didn't try to explain it, fix it, or defend it.  "I hate that he has to go through this, and I have blessed that my son has him for a friend" that was it.  That statement alone helped me through my day, but I once again digress.  So as I was showing her this post, I made a statement, " With everything that is going on......" before I could finish my statement she broke down crying.  I am trying to keep it all in, but barely doing so, and she breaks.  She looks at me and says, "what do I tell my grandson's,"how do I explain this to them."  It hits me that Black mothers are not the only ones in this war.  Anyone with children or grandchildren of color, if not living in denial, are part of this war. She asks the question that every Black mother has asked as they children became aware of the world we have brought our children.  "What do I tell them?"  This is a question I never anticipated a White woman to ask, but it is a necessary question because more than half of her grandchildren are boys and black.  "What do I tell them?"  The world has not equipped her to have this discussion, but she understands that it has to happen.  "What do I tell them?"  We are no longer a white grandmother, and a Black grandmother is speaking on the atrocities that are bombarding our children.  We are just grandmothers. "What do I tell them?"

Feeling Numb

I haven't had much to say for so long.  I not one to air, undiluted opinions on the internet. I am very considerate of the language I use. I am always afraid that the people I work with will find the blog and personalized what I am writing about, but I think I have been too quiet for too long.  Dallas Rally shootings did not surprise me in the least.  It was going to happen, it was waiting to happen, and I realized how ambivalent I feel.  I want to feel something, but the violence that has occurred on my sons and daughters have left me numb. Nothing is being said about the protester, but there was random fire.  A young man, who had nothing to do with this, his picture is plastered all over tv as a person of interest, because he was a black man, with a legal gun. This is BULLSHIT.

They put this officer family on TV, the ten-year-old daughter, the father and our heartstrings are suppose to play. Your daughter is coming home, many mothers and fathers don't get the joy of seeing their CHILD coming home.  They show a black man, who looks like the twin brother of the person of interest, but they won't even acknowledge that this is his brother.  It is a man who claims to be his brother.  This is going to be put on that boy.  Why haven't we seen the person that was actually in a stand-off with the police: He is a known entity and not a person of interest. Ok, cops were killed, but what about demonstrators, nothing.  I have a friend who is a police officer, and I had loved him like a brother for years, but I can see the change in him.

Two men, back to back, executed.  I am afraid for us. This is not just our sons and fathers and brothers, it is all of us.  And the evil that has come from behind the veil. The hate that is overwhelming, because anonimity makes it easy.  White people who have hidden by the mask, behind "I have a black friend", behind "my neighbor is black" or saying fuck it. And I am numb.  How do I explain to my son that everyday could be his last day, because of hate he did not deserve.  And if another person mentions Black on Black Crime to me, I want to point out, white people kill each other at an alarming rate and they don't have a White on White Crime moniker.

I am numb and this mask is heavy on my face.  I have white people in my life that I like, love, and want to protect, but until now I don't think I have ever trusted them with me. I can't trust them with me, because when you try to relate to me and what I am going through as the "Revolution Is Being Televised" I know you don't understand.  I don't see color is often said to me than not.  I want you to see color, I am and always will be unapologetically black.  I am an original, no matter how you try to dilute based on my light-skin, distinct diction, or blond hair. This is just a left-over from the brutality of your ancestors and it doesn't make me any less black.  I cried as every child was killed, every father, brother, wife, friend and soror was murdered on film and the murderer was allowed to justify these executions.  And I am numb.

Posting this means I am resigned, resigned to people seeing underneath the mask and having to deal with it. If I don't get pulled over for a traffic violation, I can possibly have 30 good years on this earth and I refuse to live them behind a mask.  I am lost on how to save my children and NO parent should feel that way, but parents of melanin rich children are feeling the burden and it is heavy.

Auto Dialogue

I am going to start some new postings called Auto Dialogue make use of that YouTube channel that I have.   I will be posting the vlog here and on my YouTube channel.  Give me some ideas, because all of mine are militant and I need a little fluff.

My Birthday

Today is my birthday. I am not quite a half-century old.  I am 49 today. I am trying not to feel like it is just any other day, but that is how I feel.  I am usually very excited about my birthday, but today I am kind of blah, but then again, I haven't been excited about much.  I understand I suffer from depression, but in this time and age who doesn't.  I recognize the symptoms, but recognizing the signs and doing something about it are different.  Sometimes I just want to feel sad.  I don't want to feel better, and while everyone is looking at me and asking if I am ok, I just want them to leave me alone and let me be sad.  Let me listen to sad music, let me get teary eyed, I deserve to feel sorry for myself for a little while.  It is ok that a mourn for the person that was me way back when.  It is ok to mourn the person I wanted to be but did not become.  I am sad sometimes because of that, but I do recognize that the past cannot be revisited.  I just sometimes want to be self-indulgent in my sadness, this is how I cope.  Tomorrow I will take the steps that make everyone feel comfortable, and that helps me deal on a daily basis.  But today is my birthday, and I want to be sad, so I will be.

I have been lax is setting goals for myself.  I feel as if I am resigned to the status quo, and that is never good.  I started this blog because of the positive interactions that I have had with others, but this is soul stripping.  I never understood how people could tell their entire life story so easily.  I hold back so much, so it is hard for me to go forward in new friendships.  The friendships I have, I have had for years.  I surprise even myself, on how I shut down so completely, but giving the illusion that I am open.  I am good at faking it.  So this is my attempt not to fake it, to answer questions and concerns with openness and honesty.   I can only do so much; this is new to me.  I will start to ramble, to get everything out of me onto paper. A friend told me that I have so much to share with others, and it was a shame that it was wasted.  I'm not sure about that, but I do have definite opinions that enable me to raise extraordinary humans. So here I go, and if my experience helps one person grow, that is the success.


Dream with your eyes wide open.
Sunshine

Making Space for New Beginnings

Toward the end of last year my house was vandalized.  Everything I had worked for in the past year was stolen.  My family was devastated and I was angry.  For most people this anger would be a normal reaction to being violated, but my anger was over the top, and uncontrollable. I wanted to hurt them, and hurt them badly.  I knew who broke into my house and I contacted them.  I, personally went to find them.  My anger was overwhelming.  Had I found them anytime before now, it would have been assault, that is how angry I was. I am a believer in karma. You reap, what you sow.  I consciously, and willing went to a place in my heart and mind that I knew would cause me more pain in the long run, but I couldn't let it go. Everything I worked so hard for was taken from me and my children, and that what this was all about, my children.  At this point, I wanted to destroy.  These are people I went out of my way to help, to be understanding.  How dare they?  I am easy going and forgiving until I feel that my children, not me, are attacked.  All I could see was that I forced my daughter to go to school that morning, and my son with is head in his hand because he was hit the hardest.


I was in a destructive mode.  I didn't want to wait for karma.  I wanted the damaged to be done now, by me. I looked for this couple for months and never ran into them.  I have had months to let it go, and to be honest I am slowly coming back to who I was before this incident.  I can now look around and see the my youngest are happy and they feel safe. My child, who I moved in with, isn't so sad with family around.  I am comfortable, and starting to get my mind and heart on track again.  I didn't completely let it go.  I found that this couple still followed me on Facebook, so I told my story, about them, on their timeline.  I am a better person, but not a saint.


I am still angry, but no longer destructive. I now can appreciate how my adult children rallied around me, insisting that me and the younger siblings move in with them, because my older children understood me better than anyone.  I let the need to hurt someone go, not only in my mind, but also my heart.  I am now focusing on continuing my forward motion, because when you harbor that much malice in your heart, you cease to grow.  I can no longer stifle my growth; I must cut the anchor that is holding me back.  Moving on is hard when something wounds you deeply, but that is what this blog is about.  Let go that which negatively takes up space in your heart and mind.  Sometimes you have to "let go, and let God, or Allah, etc."  Find space and time to breath and appreciate what is positive in your life, and don't let what is negative blind you.  Not an easy task when you feel violated, or sad.  Find something that you always wanted to do and never had time, and pour all that energy that you are using for negative emotion into that task.  I walked every time I felt the anger spilling over.  I lost 12lbs.  I was really angry.  I redirected that anger. I didn't get rid of it immediately and I am not sure all of it is gone, but I am working on it.  And I can now breath. 



Music for today is Alicia Keys, Wait to They See Your Smile.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mL0K-mRZWLw