In this world of snakes, masks, and charades it’s hard to know who’s real or fake
We believe the popular culture, AI, and trends that tell you via propaganda who’s who, the lies the people who pretend, and those who benefit from spreading fake news
What used to be a friend may lead to the end of the relationship for you… or that friend, because of their friends and the loss or gain of their ends
Like a broken fence your unable to mend, although you try again and again it’s just not the same fence (smh)
Not to be confused with the howl of an owl, us Americans have called the sound a who like a character in a Dr. Seuss book “Horton Hears a Who” or the lyrics from 2 Live Crew, “Who’s doing Who,” or my jam by Aretha Franklin “Who’s Zooming Who”
In reality the owl’s calls ranges from growls, to screeches, screams, and howls, hoots, coos, yips, and hoos, but popular western culture has reduced it to who
In Mexico el buho has been used to scare children into being good, don’t let la lechuza get you. Often associated with witchcraft or omens of death
While Tecolotes are seen as “guides in the dark” seeing what you can’t see, helping you get to what you can’t get, pero quien es quien
While the Native Indigenous call it sipistoo, opa, hinhan, neeshjaa, wahuhi, and oho, to name a few, the owl is associated with “protection, wisdom, and connection to the unseen for me and you.
Or in Africa it has been called both protection and curse, the “harbinger of death” or the giver of wealth
In the Middle East it’s the same, both good and bad, how can it be both, which one do we choose
who’s hoo
Just like a wise man shared “a lie will have traveled across the world before the truth gets up and puts on its house shoes”
So is the owls’ many labels, calls, and cultural meanings entangled in what aligns with the truth in your head and heart about who’s who
A living portrait of unending time where man’s inherent inability to distinguish the truth from a lie is influenced by the truths of a culture that is subjective to ones perspective of both truth and lies and somewhere in between.
MY GOD! gives me bible as I’m afflicted screaming verses from Psalm 102: “I am like a pelican of the wilderness, I’m like a owl of the desert” “The children of thy servants shall continue…. and their seed shall be established before thee”
With GOD It doesn’t matter whose hoo’s hoo, it’s my perspective, its my head, and heart, and it’s my truth
Our flag was made with freedom in mind, freedom for you and me
It’s in our flag, not in US, so what’s said to be free ain’t free
Our flag is an OG, that was 13 stars, and 13 colonies
Red for “hardiness and valor,” blue for vigilance and perseverance,” and white for what America claimed was right
Our assimilation runs so deep as I reflected about the middle eastern car salesman subtlely serving hate like it was my dinner plate, saying “if it ain’t white it ain’t right”
I chose the black car.
it’s popularity grew in a war to free my enslaved ancestors, used as a symbol to show we conquered and prevailed in times of war.
Used as a fashion statement like Vera Wang, but you better not create your own flag cuz that’s a gang
Our freedom lies on our flag but our people aren’t free
So much inspiration just ask Francis Scott Key, thinking about our country tis’ing of thee, or what about Bob, he added 37 more stars, but we still don’t act accordingly.
Go from one state to another state and you have no health care, what you do in one state, will put you in jail, else where
Our children don’t have a standardized level of care throughout America, make that make sense
When we don’t prioritize our future, we fail to prioritize US, you see our flag is the only thing free, nothing is free about US.
I met my first buyer as an adult at a hole in the wall nightclub on the other side of the town. It was my 21st birthday, and one of us thought it would be a good idea to go to a bar full of old men, old hos, dope sellers, old school cuts, and good food.
Ok, maybe I was that person, anyways I had on a cute purple skirt with a blue hint to it and a matching tank top. It was complimented with silver platforms and a fresh hairstyle thanks to my Godmom. I had all intentions to take the outfit back to Nordstroms because I didn’t have money like that ( I don’t recall if I did or didn’t).
I knew I looked good with the exception of my belly, I had always had a gut since I was a toddler. And thanks to people asking me was I pregnant (so rude), I had mastered the art of holding it in. With 4 of my closest friends, we entered, and as usual, all eyes were on us. I mean, we all were young and good-looking. Although this wasn’t our first time at a club, this was my first time using my real ID.
I ordered a triple shot of Hennessey, and I’m sure my homegirls did the same. We found a booth in the corner and settled in to look at the older folks get their groove on, on the tiny dance floor.
I took mine to the head and asked my homegirl if she wanted to come with me to order some food. I wanted to eat before the Xstacy hit me. At the homies house, before leaving, we rolled a fat joint and split one capsule into a minute maid orange juice. It hard to believe we were sharing 1 pill, but that’s all it took.
No one wanted to come, so I turned to my favorite homegirl, and smiling, she said, “You better be glad it’s your birthday, sis.”
As we made our way to the kitchen located on the side of the building, we encountered a line as usual. Turning to her I asked her “do you feel it,” “not yet nigga do you?” “Nah, that’s why I’m trying to eat before it does.”
I turned around to the guy working at the front counter as he undressed me with his eyes, his smile widened to reveal a checker board of gold and teeth. “What you want, young lady, there’s a line behind you.” ” Oh yeah, my bad, I want the neckbones meal with cabbage, rice and gravy, and can I have cornbread instead of hushpuppies?” “That’s normally extra for the cornbread but since your so cute I’m a give it to you this time.” I broadened my smile as I was hoping to get more if a discount.
“Can I get a strawberry pop too?” “Sure thang like a chicken wang, young lady, that will be 14.99.”
“You want to share with me?” “Nigga, you know you gonna eat it all,” she replied and stepped to the counter to order her food. I moved to the side reserved for pick up orders and tried to make myself smaller because I wasn’t buzzed yet and I didn’t like being stared at. Soon the older lady called both of our numbers and happily, we headed back to the table.
At the table, the waitress was setting down a fresh round of drinks for us all. We all looked at each other and then at her, and she pointed to a table on the opposite side of the club in the back filled with men with grey hairs and cigars in their mouth. “He sent that to you.” I looked towards where she was pointing and and from what I could see (because I never wore my glasses) a short, Grey haired older man waived and smiled. Now I couldn’t see him (because he was dark and so was the club), but I could see his white teeth with one gold one in the corner. I politely waived and mothed thank you. and sat down. As soon as I sat down the X hit me, and I began to relax and smile. My other homegirl was like “Nigga he look like he got money.” “I’m good,” as I made myself eat the food and finish my 2nd triple shot of the night so we could go to the after hours club which was where the niggas I wanted to see was.
We soon finished our drinks and food because we could also see that the local hood rats was also noticing us, and we didn’t want any drama. As we walked to the door a man gently put his hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see the guy who had bought us all drinks. “Hey, how you doing?” Oh good, and thank you for the drinks, it’s my birthday, so that’s what’s up”! As he smiled again, I became even more turned off by his old ass. “No problem, my name is Evan,” as he handed me his card, I could see a wrist full of gold links and a watch. Still not interested, I took the card and walked around him because, like always, my homegirls was leaving me. “Call me,” he halfyelled after me. “Ok,” I said, not even looking back.
After Thought: The after hours was popping, and me and one of my homegirls stayed on the dance floor until we had sweated our hair out and sobered up. I ran into my little late-night, who was balling, fine, and great in the bed, and he reminded me of that later that night. I didn’t plan to call that old man, I didn’t even like him, but when things got financially hard, I thought back to that gold on his wrist, and searched and found his business card, and I called that old man. And he paid like his old ass weighed for at least a good 7 years, that was until my babies daddy ran him off (sigh). Not only did he pay me but connected me to employment I would not have otherwise had access to, I stsyed in the mall, bills payed, he was a true sugar daddy. He also morally bankrupted me in ways I care not to share, in places I would have never done sexual acts, but that’s life, right?
It was my choice at that age, and “what happens between adults, stays between adults, right?”
The closest I will get to heaven on earth, (next to the Holy Ghost), Things happen in the air that make me want to stay there, hurry up and get back there, or take a picture so I can mentally float there.
I just took a trip to do something I had never done before. Amongst others who had way more political power, influence, way more qualified, and so much more than me (I felt). I was included. However, I did not feel like I belonged.
Pushing my insecurities to the side, I introduced myself to everyone who would allow me to; stating my 9-5 with pride because I worked to be there, just like I worked to get here and unite us in the betterment of all children. Specifically, this was for Black women and girls and services that bring us together rather than policies that play on our differences. It was well received, I thought as I waited for folks to join my session. Because I’m sensitive about my art and it was just me and Jesus, and as I prayed silently, God told me to fix on the gentleman in front of me. This not only helped me tremendously, but it also had me wanting to know more about this gentlemens journey.
With the presentation over, I thought about how to be better, and the answer was clear. I can’t do this all by myself, and God answered when you’re ready.
Then I thought about an undergrad instructor who always stated, “Being prepared equalls success.” Easier said than done, but my next opportunity, God willing, I will be ready, ready!
As I break apart all the best pieces of me rise up further than my eyes can see, more than my mind can fathom, somewhere between here and heaven, while the rest of me falls to the better parts of hell, as if their is such a place. You know me even wanting good for the fucked up peices of me, good for the fucked up pieces of you. Thats whats it about, chances, changes, love, hate and the struggle to gain acceptance of what you see while your most attracted to what you hear, cuz it sounds so good!
Every career/job has its ups and downs. However, there comes a time when one must ask themselves, am I the problem? Did I smile too much? Did I show up too encouraged to work? Did I do my job with too much intensity. Or do y’all know something I don’t know?
“Go back to where you came from,” she taunted as she skipped a few steps ahead of me. “Take it back,” I yelled as I almost caught up to her before she darted into an unknown classroom. “Take it back,” I whispered to myself this time as I turned back around to go to my classroom, knowing she would never take it back.
“You’re such a white girl, you sound so white,,, girl where you from?”I’m, I’m from here.” I said, looking down. I wanted her to take it back but I was too scared to say it to her face, but I knew she would never take it back and if I said something she would probably accompany her words with a smack, so I attempted to make myself smaller so know one would know that I was a white girl in a black girls body, like she said I was.
“Are they your cousins?, their clothes are dirty and they dress bummy!” as she examined their attire, they waived to me to follow them. “Yes, they are!” I replied as I turned away to join them on the swings. Inwardly, feelings of guilt washed over me, as I recalled my mom hand washing, ironing, and hanging up my clothes every few days. I wanted to tell her to “take it back” It’s not their fault, that I was them and they were me, it was easier for me to leave her standing on the playground by herself. I should’ve told her to take it back!
I walked in the door half numb, scared and hopeful to find my play cousin sitting on the couch. With no hesitation, I told her the news I just received from the local teen clinic. “Girl, I’m pregnant.” “Whaaat,” she replied. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I said as I picked up the phone dialing his number and after 7 rings, I hung up, went to my room and fell on my bed rubbing my belly afraid of how I was going to tell my mom. That night, I dreamt of him, of us, of his promises, startled by the phone, I jumped up to grab it, praying it was him. “Hello”,, ” “Joy, you better tell your mom or I will.” My heart sunk into my stomach… “ok,” I said as I swallowed hard, “but she’s sleep, and I don’t want to wake her.
Dread filled my soul with the thought of telling her. After I hung up the phone from my play aunt, I thought she didn’t waste any time in telling on me…I called him again and this time his grandma answered. “He’s in juvenile honey, but you can write him, ok thank you I said as I hung up. I walked into my mom’s room to hear her snoring loudly and sweating. Wasn’t no way I was gonna wake her up to tell her, her 13 yr. Old is pregnant. I went back to my room and fell back asleep with no dreams. This time, I woke up to the phone ringing again. I answered “yea” “Did you tell her?” “No, she sleeping”, with clear irritation, I hung up the phone. This replayed a couple of times before I went into her room and said mom, silently at first, then a little louder until she screamed, “What dammit?” I told you about waking me up!” I got something to tell you.. my voice trembling, I hesitated. “What girl?” she screamed again. “I’m pregnant,” I said as I half ducked and moved backward towards the door. “What, where is he at?” I don’t know, lying for fear that telling her he was in jail would somehow make this worse.. “Your ass is getting an abortion,” she said with conviction… scared, my mouth said “ok” but a part of me died with those words. The next month in a half, I spent going by his house seeing if he was out yet and wishing I would’ve never told my play cousin. As I succumbed to the anesthesia I wished, I would’ve never told her, and the words replayed over and over again in my head….”Take it back!”
Breaking Generational Cycles (JDPB4LIFE) 