Simply

Just another manic Monday

Most times…

3 Comments

Most times I can skirt the news, the drama and the craziness of this world by not having live tv, by not watching tv at all, by not picking up a newspaper or reading online news outlet websites. All of it done on purpose. To avoid seeing and hearing things that can be activating for me. 

I need and crave peace, pretty things, love, fucking skittles and puppy dogs. But occasionally the world creeps in and I feel it. All of it. And it weighs heavy. As I try to grapple with ways to fix it, to fix the problem, to make all better in the world. And I end up sad, depressed, anxious and upset. And I walk around with a big ass attitude and fuck the world mentality, until someone, something reminds me. It’s not you, it’s not your feelings, it’s the feelings of those around you, of the world because you let them in…

Ike and I talk between ourselves, between my sister and her partner and we all end up pissed and angry. And so we shove it all away and say we can’t talk about this anymore. I’m mad and I don’t know where to direct my anger. And so because I don’t know where to direct my anger I need to push it aside. Move it, shift it so I can comfortably keep going through my day/week/month. 

But today, today… I am just stuck. Not only by what’s happened in the last 24-48 hours, but by the silence. The silence of those that aren’t brown skinned and are close to us and our family. By the lack of compassion from people who say it was their fault for being killed while black. For the idea that we have to paint these men, women and children in a negative light to make their killing FUCKING JUSTIFIED! By the blind eye that is turned every time a person of white skin is taken in alive for an offense TEN FUCKING times worse then reading a book, selling cigarettes or cds. But by fucking golly you should do what the fuck they tell you to do otherwise you’ll end up dead and it will be all your fault. But what about the people who followed the letter of the law and still ended up dead? I’ll wait. 

I’m so tired of well he used to do this or he used to do that, WHO THE FUCK CARES. Was he doing that the day he died? Did him reading a book require a fucking death sentence?

I’m so tired of well what about black on black crime? What the fuck about it? What about white on white crime, gay on gay crime, Muslim on Muslim crime? Why is it when a black man, woman or child is MURDERED the question always comes back to black on black crime? 

Why don’t we do that when a white person bombs a fucking building, kills a theater full of people, shoots up a FUCKING ELEMENTARY SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. Oh I forgot, he has mental illness. He wasn’t right in the head. 

It’s even worse when a female has been raped. Well, what was she wearing, did you say no, why were you there, were you drinking, did you ask for it, well it’s your husband can it really be rape? 

Black guy does it, lands UNDER THE FUCKING JAIL. White guy does it, oh poor Luke is too privileged to be in jail. Let’s give him a suspended 10 year probation sentence. 

I’m so tired of not being seen, of not having a voice, of being patted on the fucking head and said but you’re different. FUCK YOU AND YOUR DIFFERENCE! FUCK YOU AND YOUR, BUT YOU ARENT LIKE MOST BLACKS! 

What is that going to do for me if I’m found hanging in a jail cell? What is that going to do for my husband if someone deems him suspicious and kill him? What will that do for my son if someone says he shouldn’t be in our neighborhood because he’s too black. What will that do for my daughters if some pompous prick feels he is entitled to her body?

I know, what ifs. They are all none existent right now and I hope for the remainder of our lives on this earth. But it is a thought that crosses my mind every time my heart walks out of the front door of our house every day. 

It can be like PTSD hearing about the injustices happening, about how we are still not even considered human enough to matter. It’s draining, its anxiety ridden, it can be depressing. And so that’s why I stay unplugged. So that I may skip all of this while I work through my own personal issues. Because these issues and my own issues on top of that is crushing me. I’m doing lots of self care and showing myself compassion. BUT, I’m still saddened by the way of this world. 


It’s time to stop hiding, step up, step out, get uncomfortable and fully own your story. Whether it’s the story of the collective or your own personal story.    Own that Bitch! 

I know this could sound like a rant, but don’t do that. Don’t  belittle my truth down to the “Angry Black Female”. I’m speaking my truths, if you can’t handle it, if you want to add more to it that’s YOUR STORY NOT MINES. I have a right to be upset, scared and anxious. And I’m going to go with that. 

I don’t know what my piece in this will look like except to keep offering love. To keep teaching my children about Love and how to figure out who They are in this world full of noise and hate and scared folks not knowing how to say that out loud. 

Anyways, I would end with Namaste. But Nope. Ponder on the picture below.


✌🏾️Peace, Iiona

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Most times…

  1. I’m still here. Still wishing I could do something more about all of this pain. And realizing that my role is to LISTEN, to LOVE, to PRAY for healing. I’m not shocked. I’m not hurt. I’m not alienated. I’m thankful to be on the listening end. I’m glad you tell it like it is.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s