Forget About Dre

“Now days everybody wanna talk like they got something to say…”

1. Dr Dre married a LAWYER in 1996, who was formerly married to NBA player Sedale Threatt,

2. Dr Dre has a history of drinking and violence towards women, both domestically and otherwise. His tack record says he’s an abuser.

3. In 1996 Dr Dre formed Aftermath. He produced, made beats, signed 50 cent in 2002, sold Aftermath for $52 million, made over 11 million in 2004, had a net worth of $30 million in 2012, sold Beats by Dre and is now worth $800 million.

4. He and his second wife Nicole signed a prenup. Many prenups have domestic violence clauses that negate the prenup if there is abuse.

5. She asked for $2 million a month temporary support after filing for divorce.

That’s the knowledge. Here’s the truth.

Who gives a damn about a woman beating drunk and how much money he has to pay to his soon to be ex-wife? He put a WHOLE woman’s WHOLE head into brick wall. He seems to like to beat up in a lot of the women he comes into contact with. You think for one minute this negro who said “it ain’t no big thing, I just threw her through a door” never put his hands on his current wife? Are we sure about that? Would you bet on that? Dude been hitting more than corners and low lows. Trust.

Here’s the thing, they married and live in California, a community property state, she gets half of his assets acquired during the marriage if there is not legally enforceable prenup. This woman is not an extra dancer in his video, she had been married to an athlete AND knows the law well enough to get a really good lawyer. Dr Dre wasn’t new when they met. So anything about him was public knowledge, including his violence. She should give back her law degree and her lawyer should just hang up his Johnston & Murphy’s if they didn’t plan for that in the prenup. Just throw your degrees in the garbage because y’all both trash in that area. But I can’t imagine that…

So she budgets $900,00 for entertainment. Well perhaps when they were happily married he flew out Toni Braxton to serenade them on date night. Maybe once a week they rented out a stadium to play a game of one on one with Charles Barley commentating. Maybe back in the day they had Bob Ross come give them painting lessons… little trees and happy clouds. It really doesn’t matter because in the grand scheme of things, $2 million is going to be her shoe money when she gets that check for $400 million. She could spend $2 million a month until she is 73, and still have money left over. She could wipe her ass with $100 bills, that’s her business. When you put your hands on women for sport as he has a history of doing… karma is knowing your money is as shitty as you are.

So I advise you, men especially not to get caught up in the matrix, no one wants your blow up mattress and your comic book collection, be easy. In fact, just be smart. If you got a few pennies, protect your assets, get a prenup, and keep your hands and your penis to yourself (there are infidelity clauses as well in prenups). But as for Dre… he gotta break her off something, and it’s FOR SURE gonna be bumping!

Sadly genius doesn’t always extend to every area of our lives and is not often a factor in common sense. But these are first world problems, and while we are living in third world conditions, I implore you to… yep… you said it already yourself… on cue…

Forget About Dre!

How do you spell relief…

Y’all remember that commercial!?

Well this ain’t about heartburn. But it fits.

A little bit about me before I get into it, I am pretty straight forward, no nonsense, ignorance and mess averse. I grew up in a house where you were encouraged to say what you felt with respect of course. I had a hard nosed Grandmother who said WHATEVER was on her mind and didn’t care about your feelings or if you took offense. If you had a Betty Lou, you know you learn very quickly how to not only respond to foolishness but stand up in your own imperfection and own it. I often wondered what her deal really was… I recall my Aunt, her sister, telling me once “Your Grandmother needs a psychiatrist. Never forget that or let her forget it.”

I later learned exactly what that meant. At the time I thought it was funny, but as I got older she was basically telling me that I wasn’t personally responsible for managing my Grandmother’s emotions and insecurities and nor did I have to act like they were not there or like she wasn’t in need of a long sit down in the couch of her choice. Seeking mental therapy was normalized for me in that moment. I remember hearing my mom and even my Grandfather saying things that let me know Nana was not to be allowed to infect us with her unhealed trauma… whatever trauma it was.

So I got with Nana!

I’m about to get with you!


Earlier this year my closest, dearest, and bestest friend got really ill after contracting COVID-19. She was put into an induced coma, intubated, and spent two weeks in the hospital. When she was released home, she spent a very long time inside of the house and clearly afraid to go outside. The virus and it’s affects on her had left her with an acute case of PTSD that she couldn’t seem to shake, even a few months after being home. We were talking at least once a day… and each conversation her outlook on her physical healing got more gloomy and added another day in the house at the beginning of summer. So like I do, I said to her, ” Hey you might wanna talk to someone because your body and your emotions are traumatized and neither will get better if you don’t move around and start to reestablishing your daily patterns.” I let her know I understood that she’d feel different… your body IS different! But she was still in charge of her own healing… she could talk out ways to integrate some necessary changes into her life to establish a new baseline. She said something like… yeah I know. But soon after she told me she had started therapy, and next thing I knew she was at a social distance, outside event, mask on, but healing in every way. To that I say… Bravo!!!!

Normalizing therapy is important!


Life is a series of experiences… lessons and learning opportunities. Some are like Hamilton, you get schooled while folks rap and dance in costume. Others are like Saw, you get tortured in the process, but if you make it through, you can survive anything. You don’t get to choose how you learn. I believe it depends on the severity of your lack and importance of the knowledge… the path to enlightenment is paved in karma and curses you gotta learn to hurdle over. Jackie Joyner-Kersee them jokers!

But these are not unique to you. Sure your particular set of experiences and how they manifested in your life are uniquely yours, but be clear… people get cheated on, abused both emotionally and otherwise, stolen from, tricked, played, hurt, manipulated, lied to, lied on, misunderstood, and mistreated daily. That isn’t your fault, that’s based on the mental illness of the perpetrator. But you are responsible for how you handle those experiences and whether you choose to heal from them. That is totally on you. You can’t ignore it, push it aside, joke your way through it, or put a mask on it and call it something else… because it will find it’s way back, it will deposit itself on your skin, in your pores, in your heart, in your liver. It’s that starvation, insecurity, overindulgence, inappropriate behavior, nonproductive overexertion, lack of discernment, and fake shit. It will leak out from any orifice. It will infiltrate every good thing and rot it until it stinks like that old meat Langston reminded us about. It will pool around you until you drown in it… unless you save yourself from it. It is trauma. It’s worse than the most aggressive cancer or the most vile killer. That shit there is toxic and you gotta fix it. Or it will fix you.

Trauma is like quicksand. You knew the ground had gotten softer but you didn’t walk around it, and it sucked you in. Eventually it started to fill your nose, airway, and eyes with sand.., your last vision, feeling, thought, sound stuck at that last moment your eyes witnessed. You reach out your hand, but you’ll just pull them in too. No one wants to go there who doesn’t have the tools to pull you out from stable ground. But it’s possible to save yourself. It requires you to put on your big girl panties or your big boy draws, pull em up, and DO YOUR WORK … c’mon Auntie Iyanla told y’all. And in the process you must seek help from people who know how to help you help yourself. Most of the people around you simply aren’t equipped to manage your emotions. It’s not their job or responsibility.

In all seriousness, I leave you with this, My favorite book is The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo and he always has the most sage advice. He once posted on Twitter, “To heal a wound you must stop scratching it.” Anyone who has healed knows exactly what you must do… change your thoughts. We focus on what is and has been wrong, keep peeking under the band aid, scratching at the scab, to just reopen the wound. Instead you have to DECIDE to do what is necessary to let it heal. For a physical wound it’s usually to leave it alone. For an emotional one it’s to bust it wide open, scoop out the bad insides, look at them, trash them, and concentrate on the present. Most times, to do that well, we need some help. Therapy comes in many forms. If couches ain’t for you, get some spiritual healing. If that ain’t your bag, try some crystals, reiki, whatever you need to do in order to learn the lessons, heed the word, and exist in a state of vainglorious.

You’ll be alright, just get yourself together and get some T-H-E-R-A-P-Y!

Real Friends

Friends… how many of us have them?

-Whodini “Friends”

This past Monday, Kanye West tweeted his mania and on Sunday he displayed it for everyone to see… moments of intense emotion, yelling, wild and disorganized thought, and then moments of just staring blankly while being spoken to during his rally in SC. I’ve seen people joke about it, and there is nothing remotely funny. I’ve also seen people mistake questions about his wife’s protection of him with calls for her to control him. Protection does not equal control.

No one is blaming Kim Kardashian for Kanye’s mental illness. He is responsible for seeking and following his treatment. However, to characterize questions about his wife’s whereabouts during his recent episodes as misogynistic… that’s a big nope. Her entire family has became more famous because he is present and such a polarizing figure. They crave the media and the media craves him. Match made in heaven. Today Kim Kardashian put out a statement asking for grace for Kanye and his loved ones living with his disorder… herself included. She too led with the premise that he cannot be forced to seek medical treatment. And while I understand that premise, that’s neither lost on me or some new information to me, it doesn’t negate her absence as his spouse. She has previously downplayed his disorder, tweeting “your commentary on Kanye being erratic & his tweets being disturbing is actually scary. So quick to label him as having mental health issues for just being himself.” His disorder is not a media ploy or a media toy. And it’s real AF!

Control and protection are two very different things. No adult is responsible for controlling another’s actions. But when I put myself in relationship with someone else, I should be expected to take on some responsibility to protect them, from others and themselves if necessary. There is NO way my dude’s episode of mania would be broadcast live… first, how he get outta the house to go do that shit, but beyond that everybody gotta get out! I’m buying all the cameras and the footage, fade to black, NOT on my watch. As wild and reckless as Kanye’s mouth is, he is still clearly suffering and in need of protection. Sadly his circle of protection is worthless.

To love someone is to provide the safest place possible for them in your presence.

A short story: Many moons ago, I was once in a relationship with a horrible person. I was living in Oklahoma, a few months before law school started, with him. He got worse when I got further away from my family and friends. I had shared some of behavior with my three closest friends. That very Friday, I got a call after work to pack a bag and come to a hotel by the airport, I thought, oh goody a surprise trip. The three of them lived in Detroit. One had a two month old. They were in Oklahoma, the weekend of my call, just RANDOM! It wasn’t a surprise vacation, it was a true labor of love. They basically told me I could come back with them or not but they had to show up… to let him know they could show up at any time. That’s protection. I only stayed long enough to sell everything including the bed and leave him in an empty apartment… I even gave away the food.

Dave Chappelle showed up to support Kanye in that way… he just showed up in the flesh. Sometimes a text or FaceTime don’t cut it. That kind of support is necessary when you aren’t sure of how to help yourself. He didn’t come to force him to do anything, but to stand in the gap. And the gaps are huge for Ye. Big King Kong gaps. Kanye’s family by marriage, his only family to speak of, was nowhere to be found during this moment that he became unhinged on camera. Yet they are at Sunday Service in the flesh. They are at the award shows in the flesh. He’s on their show. They are at the fashion shows. So they know how to be present when it matters to them. But they aren’t his real friends. He was having a whole presidential rally with a bad mic and no agenda or platform to speak of, DOLO! I’m not suggesting they force him to take meds or any such thing… Just protect him, in the flesh. That’s all.

Protection is not control, be clear. It is guarding, defending, and honoring. It is letting someone talking shit about your folks know that in your presence, that doesn’t fly. It’s keeping information that other people don’t need to know under wraps so your people aren’t charged with managing other folks emotions. Just like Kool and the Gang would have pulled the amp plug the first sign of water on the Titanic, everything is cancelled if my spouse is coming unhinged on something being nationally broadcast, forever archived to see. It’s buying all their masters as a gift. It’s the opposite of control, it’s freedom. When they aren’t able to control themselves or the narrative in a moment, it stands time still to allow them time to rewrite the script.

I blog about Kanye a lot. I am a fan and also I am concerned. Black Minds Matter. He is a musical genius fading into a meme and social media fodder because he lacks real support and protection. I’m not a Kardashian fan, but I believe her statement was typical of the type she makes to maintain her image, as genuine as she can likely be. I also believe the whole lot of them are bloodsuckers and you cannot tell me that they don’t prey on famous Black men and aid in the destruction of their character in the media, because they do. So they don’t know how to protect. Their own mother pimped her daughters sex tape into an 18 season show. She’s good… but not at protecting. He was doomed from the start of this episode.

Kanye has likely been bipolar…but the old Kanye had protection and support. The new Kanye is bipolar, off his meds, and on his own.

And that’s my opinion on that!

How many of us are real friends?

To real friends, to the real end

‘Til the wheels fall off, ’til the wheels don’t spin

To 3 A.M., callin’

How many real friends?

-Kanye West “Real Friends”

King Augustus the Strong

In 1967 Augustus II (Augustus the Strong) became the king of Poland. In the early 1700s, Chinese and Japanese porcelain was a highly sought after commodity, and as a result, Augustus hoarded it. He had over 20,000 pieces in what was called his Porcelain Palace. At one point, he was so obsessed with porcelain he imprisoned an alchemist to find the formula to make it. The young alchemist discovered the formula, allowing Augustus to open a porcelain factory. He considered it one if his greatest accomplishments.

On May 7, 2018, Queen Jada the Healer premiered Red Table Talk, an Internet show where individuals with issues, concerns, and problems could come air and talk them out along with her daughter and her mother. Topics such as addiction, misogyny, relationships, and sex were highlighted in the spirit of healing past experiences and trauma to be able to fully realize one’s ability to overcome their current day concerns. She often served as master healer during these conversations. Most poignantly so during a July 2018 interview with singer August Alsina, who she chronicles helping to overcome his addiction to opiates since 2014. He credited her with being the impetus to his recovery.

A lil backstory: August met the Smiths in 2015. He quickly became close friends with Jada, posting a lot of pics with her and her with him, on social media, sans Will Smith. At that time August was a 22-year old with a history of molestation, addiction in his immediate family, he had already lost one sibling, with no relationship to speak of with his father, and addicted to pain killers. At some point during that time, we now know, he and Jada Pickett-Smith engaged in a romantic relationship while she and husband Will Smith were “separated”. We also know Will and Jada stayed together, and in December of 2018 after the Red Table Talk, his sister died and August broke off the relationship with Jada and ceased all communication. End scene.

So last week he admitted, during a deeply personal and gut wrenching interview, that they had this once secret relationship. The interview and admission seemed cathartic for him, yet still emotionally raw. And immediately after the interview was posted, the innants BLEW UP! Talk about going up on a Tuesday… dude set it OFF! Black Twitter went nuts. And here’s the thing, this type of open marriage between Will and Jada had been hinted at before, this wasn’t shocking but dude had on a two toned suit and pink and orange hair and seemed SHOOK. Some folks took August’s side, understanding his need for healing from what looked like predatory behavior on her part. Other’s took the side of Jada, stating that marriage is hard and for two people to figure out, and if it was consensual and in the nature of Will and Jada’s relationship, August was little more than a snitch.

Then Jada admitted the entire thing… stating several times that being with the young man helped her heal to get back to a good place with Will… and I was all like “Hunh?!?” and “Hunh What?!?!” Will was sitting beside her looking part frustrated and part like he wanted to bust out crying. But mainly what I took from it is this… healing is Jada’s porcelain and August was her alchemist. He was understandably shook, and Jada, well…

…ain’t no such thing as half way crooks.

-Mobb Deep “Shook Ones”

Gaslight…

Gaslight…

Neon Light…

Stop Light

Listen, just be straight with me, okay. King Augustus has the Royal Scepter in his pants and ole girl just wanted to “feel good”…

… when she was having a hard time in her life. That’s it! That’s all! The End. Full Stop.

We all know marriage is hard, and being with any other person for over 20 years is a series of shifts and changes that are not always nice or pretty or feel good. One doesn’t have to be married or have ever been, to understand that. But one does not get to gaslight another person because you refuse to be accountable for your predatory actions in the name of healing… whatever it is you claim you are healing. That’s not promoting wholeness, it’s selfishness. That’s not a marital shift, it’s a lack of accountability. It’s inflicting more trauma on the traumatized. It’s wrong. It’s especially wrong when you have labeled yourself as and been accepted as a ally in preserving and championing mental health through healing past trauma and toxicity.

You not only a client, you the toxic President.

As for August, he is a victim. She was an old ass married woman with children his age, and she had an open opportunity to try out that monster, so she took it. The problem here is that she was a hound dressed up in a therapist’s clothing. He needed to feel loved, wanted, safe, protected… and in many ways she provided that experience. Then she took advantage of his weakness, cuz make no mistakes, any 22 year old with those kind of scars is still bleeding out profusely. She was never going to pick him, and in such a state as he was in, rejection was the last thing he needed. She had every right to salvage her marriage, but using him to scratch her itch just caused him more pain. She never took any accountability for that.

She is so obsessed with healing that she imprisoned August to find more if it. Sign of a true predator. He was so traumatized, he didn’t even know he was being held captive. Sign of a true victim.

A funny thing about victims… when they release their trauma they often heal. One is a snitch when they tell on someone else. He told on himself. That’s the whole idea of being involved in a love triangle… one person is usually the odd man out, and that person usually blows up the spot. But it’s their spot too! So if you share that married cougar coochie and it goes public, say nothing or tell the truth. No one cares what entanglements you and your dude engage in if that’s how y’all run your show, but understand that if you are being fake AF, that third party might divulge that he might have a King Cobra, but you the real snake.

And when these bustas try to knock you out your place

Hold on, and be strong

You stand there to they face

Tupac, “Hold on be Strong”

A Stale Mate

Do you throw milk away on the date on the carton. What’s the difference between the sell by date and an expiration date? If you continue to drink the milk, at what point will it make you sick? Do you wait until it stinks? In my experience, we don’t fuck with the milk past the date on the carton, regardless of whether it says sell by or use by. Why wait until it’s spoiled to find out…

So why do we keep people around longer than they are needed and useful? Why do we ignore the expiration dates on our relationships, especially those that are romantic in nature? Why do we wait until people literally stink up our lives, make us emotionally and spiritually sick, before we walk away?

People are complex organisms… our brains, our mental center, and our “heart” or more appropriately our souls, our spiritual center, are both very much guided by our emotions. We may KNOW something is the right choice but not FEEL like it is, and be at a standstill. Our mind and our soul might be delivering the same message, but our bodies start to physically long for what it is used to receiving from a mate, their touch or just presence. We have physical reactions based on our emotional experiences. We cry, we tremble, we feel physical pain and anguish… at the mere thought of letting them go. Like the milk, we don’t want to waste… money or time. But the cost of milk versus the cost of letting don’t compare to the cost of getting physically sick or being emotionally scarred and abused. Expiration dates aren’t written on people like milk, but yet we still know when that time has come. The trick is in letting go.

I once spent years, not consecutively, but years nonetheless, trying to make a relationship work, with this man. We looked good together, we were both successful, we seemed a good match. Yet, no matter how good things would be going, we’d come to a point where he would become what I later realized was emotionally abusive. As good of a match as we seemed to make in paper, he was severely insecure about my friendships, professional success, position, and intelligence. Years would go by and we would run into each other and fall back into old ways, spending time together. Yet the last time, once I was aware fully of what was happening, I no longer needed explanations, closure, or anything but to shelve his ass into someone else’s pantry. He was not healthy for me, he was past his expiration, and was spoiled AF. He probably had mold spores by this point. It was a wrap. Unlike anytime before, I had done the changing. I was so protective of my own peace and my self that I would not allow any stale mate to position himself on my already full plate. I need nourishment, and my food can touch. I didn’t need him ruining or taking any valuable time from the other parts of my life.

We often hold on to people in fear of them leaving an empty space we believe we might never refill. But trust me, other people who are looking for the type of relationship you have to offer are always present. You just have to be as well. Removing the unnecessary will make room for others. The act of being able to remove those who do you no good is not possible until you take inventory of what you allow to sit on your shelves, waiting to be picked up again, and purge everything that is not in service of making you better. It’s much easier to type it than to do it, but it can be done. If you have a new box of Crunch Berries and you both are calling each other’s names, but you still have spoiled milk in the fridge, you’ll never answer the call. That same carton of spoiled milk will flash in ur mind when you are grocery shopping, making you believe you don’t need a new fresh carton. It’ll have you dreaming of cookies and milk… but in reality it’s no cookies and shit for you. Get rid of everything that holds you back… spoiled milk and stale men, moldy bread and broads doing the most. It is easy, you just close that space in your life. Bust a MFin move!

We make excuses for people and our own behavior that keeps us locked in places not meant for us. In love relationships, uncertainty is always there. When we see someone as long term, and the terms don’t meet our expectations, the first time, we tend to make excuses for folks. Yet we carry that little bit of heartbreak through the span of the relationship until it has reached a point of no return💔. Then we reside in that heartbreak for months and years, never standing up and moving out of the muck to fresh ground. That first disrespectful comment will likely be followed by another. That first push or balled up fist will definitely be followed by another. That first other woman may either stay or go away when the newer one appears. Continuing in it is a choice. Letting go is a choice. We can still validate our feelings of disappointment, upset, heartbreak and simultaneously free ourselves from people who mean us no good, who won’t protect us, and who harm us mind, body, and soul. But you can also walk away the first time. They were ripe for the tossing at that point.

I don’t know much. But I’m sure that love is kind and patient. It’s not abusive, inconsistent, disrespectful, hateful, chaotic, or ever ever unsafe. It won’t play a hoax on your soul, trick your mind, or cause your body trauma. It won’t make you sick, and it’s not stale and definitely not spoiled. Love is always fresh and nourishing. Get you sum! And cut that zero…

State Ya Biz

Friend or foe yo?

-Jay-Z

I have always oddly admired folks were were friendly and outgoing, and simultaneously been uninterested in being either of those things. I don’t deal with too many people at once because it’s confusing and I need to know who is real at all times… that’s hard in a big group. I don’t do foes… you won’t be around long enough to even get a title.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more open because at this point I trust my people skills and refuse to lessen myself to accommodate others. But that comes with greater responsibility to myself. So I refuse to be bothered with you if I find out you are either 1) inconsistent, 2) an imposter, 4) dishonest or 5)selfish. Those things usually come across in how you behave when others are involved… you lie, you fake the funk, you only act in consideration of self and not others, and/or you change your tune depending on the audience. Keep it a dollar with me… cuz if it don’t make dollars…

You draw, better be Picasso, y’know the best

‘Cause if this is not so, ah, god bless

-Jay-Z “Friend or Foe”

I believe in forgiveness and giving folks grace when you know they are good people who just got it wrong. But if you are questioning someone’s goodness… my advice, be on some one hitter quitter type shit. At this point be really vigilant about who you share your spiritual space with… someone behaving irresponsibly with no regard for the other people involved are selfish and will push you in front of a bullet to save themselves; someone dishonest will trick you by looking you in your eye why they are picking your pocket; an imposter will put on whatever camouflage they need to fit into circles they know they don’t belong in… and will hammer their square asses into that round hole no matter the cost; and inconsistent people will kiss the devil in private then go ranting and raving about folks kissing the horned in public.

We have a habit of inviting people into our space because other folks vouch for them or they profess their place. Start making people state their business… what you want ’round here? What are your intentions? Then be real Malcolm X about people… sometimes your own folks turn on you when it benefits them. COINTELPRO type negroes are lurking around every corner taking notes, but then will claim they are there to protect and serve you in friendship. They buy their place with claimed commonality, one hand in the group hug the other robbing you. Imposters and liars. Selfish and unpredictable. Be on some “getcho hand out my pocket” type stuff. Protect your spirit.

There is no need to work it out, keep the peace, get closure, talk it out… they are dirty. Some folks sling dirt (along with drama and petty bs) while others of us use it to grow. As one of my best sistafriends says… we are not all the same. We need dirt to grow, but then we transfer to different and bigger pot. Cross go, collect $200, buy Baltic and Mediterranean, and build on the dirt. Concentrate on you, surround yourself with people who are good to you, who want the best for you, and just claim those other folks foes. Or better yet… call them nothing, but gone. Then flex on ’em…

And promise you never, no matter the weather

Neva eva come around here no mo’

-Jay-Z “Friend or Foe”

Building ships

I’m invoking Jermaine Jackson for some musical inspiration… that’s pre-hair shellac Jermaine, but post Jackson 5 nostrils Jermaine…

“We’re like two ships on the ocean/That pass through the night”-Jermaine Jackson

Some people we pick, others the universe just kinda puts in our face. I’ve found a lot of my personal picks were based off of things that don’t really matter once you get put into the open sea…how they looked, their background, education level, wealth, shoe game, whatever. It was like judging the ability of an ocean liner to stay afloat based on its name… The World Traveller might not make it off the shore. The universe pushes you towards people who will do your soul good and away from people who only mean you harm. It’s in the ions and shit. Two separate ships in the night just pass one another, but when we are trying to build a ship together, we need to really unite on a soul level.

I have bestie who is like my square, that person you go to to get back on point, who reminds you who TF you are when you forget, who stands on the mound and goes to bat for you, but who also calls you on your fouls. I have a man that supports me, loves me, ensures that I am well emotionally and will defend my honor physically if need be. My mama is dope, and tells me I’m smart and responsible and better. Those are the main ships in my fleet. But I have space and room in the docks. Some of my folks don’t seem to make sense if you think you know me or you think you know them… you base that on mostly visual and some social perceptions. But relationship building, is much like building a ship…

One will weave the canvas; another will fell a tree by the light of his ax. Yet another will forge nails, and there will be others who observe the stars to learn how to navigate. And yet all will be as one. Building a boat isn’t about weaving canvas, forging nails, or reading the sky. It’s about giving a shared taste for the sea, by the light of which you will see nothing contradictory but rather a community of love. – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in “Citadelle”

You see, you are drawn to, you often don’t pick, your team. The group of people who help you reach higher ground. My team is so beasty! One a motivator; another who lives in service to others, a constant supporter; yet another who is organized will keep you on task and structured in your grind; and then the one that keeps the laughs and the party going when you most need them. You come together with these people individually and build rowboats, lifeboats, motorboats, to get you both where you need to be from day to day. Then often those people come together in a way to help you go from shore to shore. Whether one person or several, they are supportive, kind, empathetic, attentive… things that you wouldn’t know extrinsically about someone who just enters your life. But your energy brought them to you. After all, we are all just beings made up of energy, it’s in the ions and shit.

In high school my friends were cute and super smart, and some small part of me at 15 cared that they were cute and super smart … but they were also good people who had my back. Those same girls were the women who watched my son when I was sick, kept my home stocked with groceries so my ex-husband wouldn’t starve, and flew to see me in No Man’s Land, Oklahoma when some raggedy dude was acting an ass and I felt alone in that godforsaken town. In college, many of the guys I met … I probably only paid attention to at 18, in part, because they had good teeth, handsome bone structure, and cars. Yet many of them have become friends who I learn from constantly . I have also made some friends who, like me, were successful and no nonsense, but they liked me better when I was standoffish and uninterested in new people. They are no longer my friends because I changed, grew, opened up, and they didn’t like my progress. Most of the friends I have made more recently, might not even seem like “my kind” of people to outsiders… but yet we connect deeper. You can’t see souls, you can only feel them!

Smiley and Frowny
Winky and Side Eyer
Extravert and Introvert
Tall’ums and Short’ums

Don’t judge books by their covers, ships by the names emblazoned on the side, people by your assumptions. You are likely wrong. I mean who knew in the 2003 Kentucky Derby, Funny Cide would beat Empire Maker… I mean who sounds faster, stronger, more horse racey? But when your grandfathers are Slewacide and Forty Niner, and your stable mate is a young American Pharoah (Triple Crown winner) you might just be a beast! Always, always, bet on beasty! It’s in the ions and shit!

Just Show Your Love

I be your Knower, you be my Wiz
I’m your Mister, you my Mrs.
With hugs and kisses
Valentine cards and birthday wishes…Please
Be on another level of planning, of understanding
The bond between man and woman, and child
The highest elevation, cuz we above
All that romance crap, just show your love
You’re all I need” -Method Man

Once some guy, with great intentions, bought me one of those 7 Mile and the Southfield Freeway clear heart balloons with a bear inside, surrounded by stale chocolates and Reese’s cups. I remember looking at it like… oh, wow, thanks. As he was grinning ear to ear like he had just hit the gift giving jackpot. I recall the bear’s eye was sitting at the bottom of the balloon rolling from side to side. I was that sad little eye in that moment, just rolling about aimlessly trying to find my way out of captivity that I shared with regret, the promise of really bad gifts, and a lifetime of dusting teddy bears with runaway eyes. I vowed that would not be my life.

Most important, gifts are not my love language, so while I understand that may have been his thing, it wasn’t mine. I also realized, when I expressed my thoughts to my friends, that people are wayyyyyy more romantic than realistic in their standards and expectations about relationships. I personally don’t care about candy and shit on Valentine’s Day, or the day at all. We put this pressure on ourselves and others to show love in ways that don’t register as such to the receiver. Moreover, we give in to these ideas because it is what other people think is acceptable, sweet, romantic, and thoughtful… and we adopt that view. Those folks selling cellophane wrapped love are not there for the true gift giver, the guy or girl whose guy or girl is going to squeal with delight. They are for the guy who knows that shit is ugly but doesn’t yet know if you do or not.

You wanna do something that’s gonna make her smile? You want to show your love… Be her knower.

Since I’m repping Black History Month all 29 days of February 2020 and Black History every 365 days I’m granted, Black Love is the highest form of Understanding that Black people can attain and aspire to. Knowledge according to Supreme Mathematics is to know, listen, and observe. The purpose of Supreme Mathematics is to give us a framework for discovering who we are in the universe. Before we can know and learn anything else we must first know and see the divinity in ourselves.

Only one who knows who he is can fully learn (knowledge), accept (wisdom), and love (understanding) who I am. Once he can explain to me who he is, what pleases him, his desires, his wants, his needs, his passion, and his purpose… he can absorb mine. Receiving gifts may be how he feels love, but other than a birthday gift, flowers from time to time, and maybe that pair of Js I’ve been eyeing, they just don’t equate to love for me. So he will be able to communicate that to me, and then both hear and listen that it’s not for me. He won’t attempt to make his love language mine so it’s easier for him to remember and process, but will want to have full understanding of who I am, what pleases me, my desires, wants, needs, passion , and purpose.

This shit is so simple. It will save you money buying two dozen red roses when she likes sunflowers only in June, that pair of $800 Louboutins when she only wears flats, or tickets for him to see Nas when he wanted to see Kenny Chesney. We shouldn’t be attempting to love our partners in the ways we want, but in the ways they best receive our love. Sure, we can sprinkle in some surprises and buy a gift when he really prefers Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch, but we first must make sure we are giving what is needed, not just what we want to give. That’s wack.

Stick with your girl, I got that M-E-T-H-O-D, man!

I’ll be your wisdom. I will help you make good decisions and process that knowledge, to a level of elevation where a whole lot of real has splashes of well placed romance… keep the card, give me the hugs and kisses! Be my knower and everyday will be like Valentine’s Day.

But hey if your woman likes cellophane wrapped love, do your thing.

Proud does not equal Prejudiced

Only modern marriage has been concerned with the notion of romantic love as its impetus. Historically in America and currently in most countries and cultures, marriage serves a far greater purpose for continuing and maintaining legacy through progeny, wealth, and cultural traditions.

Anti-miscegenation laws in the US were enacted in many colonies in the early 1600s, forbidding marriage between African slaves and White colonists. Even as white men were allowed without punishment to engaged in most often forced sexual relationships with Black women, marriages between Black men and White women were strictly prohibited. Into the early 20th century many states enacted miscegenation laws also banning minority races from marrying each other . The Supreme Court ruling of Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1 (1967) struck down those laws as unconstitutional. Many legal historians and sociologists have cited the threat of miscegenation as the primary reason for segregation laws from the 17th to early 20th century. These laws were used to set racial boundaries, control immigrants, and set up a racial hierarchy.

That’s racism at its finest!

Yesterday I read an article on Black Detour, You Can’t Be Pro-Black and in an Interracial Relationship, which stated emphatically, pausedwriter’sthatideabecauseisisn’tofmanyit’ssomereasonmentallyword

I’velongershe’sexperienceIlearned

Let’s

hundredslanguageslaveryhierarchymembers ofexistedcycledayJamestown

enactmentmiscegenationofcoloniesconcoctamiseducateofandthathumanthat’sandmuchature, just wild and reckless actions in the name of racial purity and the rejection of difference. Who are we if we take on these pathologies. I’m pro-Black but I will never be a a Black supremacist.

Let me assure you, I’m educated, middle class, I’ve succeeded in terms of the American Dream, but I am not immune to the system of racism and the virulent White supremacy that infects far too many of our White counterparts. I have been targeted because I’m smart, Black, and female by mediocre White men and scared but protected White women. I grew up in Detroit, Michigan. My parents were big Afros with fist picks and Black Panther Party Black. I’m my Grandma played the numbers around the corner; dressing not stuffing; hair braided in the summertime; Pink Oil moisturizer; bamboo earrings; asymmetric hairstyle Black. My high school graduating class was 98% Black, and 98% college educated. I’m pro-Black; Black and Proud; Young, Gifted, and Black; Blackity Black. But I’ll never be a Black Supremacist.

Marriage is a civil institution, and in most of Western civilization it has morphed from a contractual agreement between families into a partnership agreement between individuals. In America, the results of immigration and war changed the priorities of marriage as different cultures brought their traditions and women went to work. The changing gender roles and integration put people in different spaces, so women no longer looked to men primarily to take care of them and people if different ethnic, racial, and cultural groups were in closer proximity to one another. As the climate changes, so does the landscape. Interracial marriages grew in number as the climate changed.

Love has always been the foundation of relationships between humans, how that love or genuine care for another began, was expressed, or was manifested has certainly changed over time. But love, at the end of the day, is the expression of understanding and acceptance of another in their truest form. Love is a choice to grow with that person and support them in finding their true self. It is void of all prejudice, celebrates difference, rejects ego, and is never an act of power or control. To declare that to be proud to be Black, and for the forward progress of the Black culture in America is impossible if you partner with someone other than a Black person is a statement of power, control, and supremacy. It seeks to keep us separate to advance some notion that the purer our Black, the better.

Purity is a racist notion. In every iteration of the word where race is concerned, pure equals White. There is no such thing as racial purity. Europeans have colonized almost every country in the world, and they have had jungle fever, rainforest fever, dessert fever, you name it, since the beginning of time. Miscegenation was began by White colonists and continued by White people until it was in their best interests to control it. They did so under the guise of purity… yet that didn’t keep Thomas out of Sally’s bloomers. So clearly, purity was just a decoy. Power and control were the captains of that ship… and the love boat simply doesn’t sail with them at the helm.

People should be free to love who they love. Regardless of how they arrive at that choice, it’s their choice to make. That choice does not alone take away someone’s pro-Black card. Any Black person about the forward progress of Black culture is going to marry someone who is also about the forward progress of Black culture. That is not an idea that is bound by race. Ultimately, anyone pro-Black should first and foremost be pro-humanity, pro-inclusion, pro-equity, and pro-diversity. Our allies, regardless of their heritage, share that with us. That is what we should desire to see in the image of our partners… real acceptance and understanding. Love.

We can uplift, support, and celebrate all of who we are, what we produce, and our talents and still be interested in being members of the larger society that respects all people, who they are, what they produce, and their talents. Period. White supremacists have tried to paint us throughout history as savages, ignorant, unable, uneducated, thugs, miscreants, nothing more. But we are as unique, creative, intelligent, talented, and different as humans are. Yet ancestrally we come from a more communal culture that is unlike the individualistic culture that is America. Our nature is different, and that is okay. It’s neither better or worse, right or wrong, it’s just different. If we start rejecting difference, we are no better than the supremacists our ancestors were tortured by.

If we attempt to police love by injecting it with prejudice, we are attempting to build our own systems of race based exclusion, in the image of White Supremacy. I refuse to believe that is who we are. That is not who I am. I once married, and if I marry again he’ll likely be a Black man. I could also meet and eventually marry a man of any race who was interested in all people being celebrated, respected, included, and considered not in spite of their differences but because of the richness and diversity of difference. But trust…

To simplify pro-Blackness as one thing is to simplify Black culture… it’s too colorful, creative, and beautiful to fit in a box. We can spread love, promote love of all colors, still and root for everybody Black… at the same damn time!

Dressed in All Black like the Omen

So what is NOT EVER gonna happen is that we will not be sacrificing ourselves for fools, okay.

I’ll be brief because this really won’t take long.

I have called my mother, my girls, or whoever hurt by some raggedy ass boy who thought it was okay to disrespect me, lie to me, deceive me, play with my emotions, or fuck with me. I have a few times. And each and every time, at least one of those people threatened to bust that jokers head to the white meat, or dangle him over a balcony like Big Red… my office hours are. And while I likely didn’t want harm to come to him, they truly did.

They were .02 seconds from getting dressed like ninjas, grabbing blunt objects, piling up in the car like circus clowns, but sans the colorful outfit and red nose, and riding out. I know this because they have called me with the same nonsense from some fool who got the incorrect impression that he was the prize and the beauty in that tandem. Well, if he’s the beauty, then call me the beast. It’s a tale as old as time, that boys will be boys. But like the saying goes, boys will be boys and that’s why God made hot grits and shanks.

Act up you can get snatched up.

In 2020 we are anti-tomfoolery. So gentleman, please act accordingly. Women are to be respected, treated with kindness and tenderness, and loved. If you can’t do that, pick someone else, but leave her/me/us alone. Mmmkay. Otherwise, you are susceptible to being two pieced by her friends, sister, mother… allofus.

He that findeth… and if you find someone who you cannot treat properly then you owe it to her and yourself to let her go, so that you both can make room for the right person. But at no time is it acceptable to mistreat her. At no time is it acceptable to disrespect her. And if you even think about touching her in any way other than out of love, then I hope you like nub sandwiches because you’ll be missing fingers.

We won’t be allowing our sistafriends to hurt in solitude or be mistreated in silence. While you are taking advantage of the woman who supports you and has her shit together except for falling for you, we know how y’all do. You treat these thot pockets like gold, and have the nerve to compare our hustle to her handstands. Nope, nope, and nope. That’s not how any of this goes… but until either you get the memo or she drops your potato head ass, we will support her and plan your disappearance. At the same damn time. No hesitation. And let Sasha Thumper know she can get it too, live and in living color.

And ladies, if you have a partner who treats you well, cares for you, expresses his feelings, and his actions co-sign… then reciprocate. We can’t be out her cracking skulls for you when you are acting a damn fool!

Love each other, cuz the only pouring out we acknowledge is garnished with a lemon wedge and mini umbrella… while your friends singing ‘this is for my homies’!

Girls are gully out here in these streets showing up and out for our good sistafriends. Be clear!

Where my girls at?