Me Myself&I


I saw the video by mistake again, though I didn’t try to turn away from it. Then 10 minutes later we were watching Lovecraft Country and everything went blurry, nothing’s been mattering much since. Fuck a NBA.

I’m gutted. There’s so much to unpack for me. I just wrote about my grandma and I realize that I was never a black man to her. Just her grandson. She never asked what kind of music I play, nor would she be curious about 70s funk I was running after. It is the little things.

It’s the big ones too. I think about all those recently unearthed, awful stories about black men stars who did some horrendous shit (Common and all). Megan getting shot. Oluwatoyin getting dead. I live with two black women, which means women who’ve seen some extra shit and cope with it the way they can. So I do my best. It is what it is. We’re holding up alright.

Meanwhile innocent black men –me, just a reminder– get shot and killed. Getting 8 bullets in the back point blank and not die is an absolute miracle wrapped in a “HOW” paper. Glad you’re still with us, Jacob. I’m so sorry, bro.

It’s an impossible maze to navigate. This intersectional life is vivid and hurts as much. Tails I lose, Heads, I lose too. It’s just fucking impossible. The constant scrutiny for whatever I do, with whoever, while help is rare, I’m sick of it. I scrutinize myself 24/7 already, just in case (thanks Morgan for this one, always). Showing love, appreciation, work, dedication. Not falling for complacency, judgment, control or all those not really positive yet charming behaviors. It’s intense but works pretty well. Sadly the environment is not helping at all. In this latest shooting, this man was doing the right thing in his community and nearly died for it, it’s fucking me up so much.

This year, with massive protests? This year, with BLM organization getting millions of dollars but still hasn’t, in six years, done or produced anything? This year, with this fucking clown King and the other one in the WH? Data or “narrative”, narrative or data don’t change a goddamn. It’s unbearable to experience as a black person. There’s so much confusion. We don’t look for racism and sexism, this shit is our fucking bed.

It’s so fucking much. This post is just a big, bloody spit on the side while I walk with determination. I’ve always wanted to live a long time, being good. I feel like making a point more and more without trying to.

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