Being BlackMaled:

This morning on the bus on the first leg of my commute to school, while looking out the window I saw two young men walking and talking. Then I saw them both turn to look behind them; naturally I was curious as to why. As the bus made its turn, I saw another young man running toward them, laughing, while simultaneously trying to eat (looked like a patty) what he was holding. Though there was nothing remarkable about either them or the scene, it has stayed with me.

 All three boys were somewhere in the fifteen to seventeen year age range, black, slim, sporting differing yet strikingly similar versions of the “nappy-headed” coolness, looking like clones of each other with their black jeans, t-shirts, sneakers (probably rivalling my five hundred dollar pumps in cost) and versions of bomber jackets (wait… are they still called ‘bomber jackets”? Please excuse my ageing myself!). They all had back-packs, so I assume like me, they were headed to school. They were strolling however; not mirroring my nerd-like eagerness to hurry up and get to where I was going!

 The few moments they were in my line of sight were enough for me to take in their physical selves and devise a reality of their lives. I watched their good-natured smiles and as the bus stopped and the doors opened, I caught on the wind, the tail-end of their laughter. It tickled me to see the one behind doing his best at multi-tasking – that patty needed to be eaten mid-lopes. I remember wondering, “What time does school start for these young men that are moving without a care in the world?” I remember shaking my head in casual affection envisioning their being quite late.

 As I lost sight of them a new train of thought infiltrated – I realized the possibility of that being the only glance I would ever have of these young men – in part because of the reality of our moving through this space un-synched; but mostly because I was watching men at their most vulnerable – black, young… potential targets. So as my mind raced I began to worry at the reality of their death, life being snatched away from them based on either their or others’ bad decisions. I became sad that those smiles could possibly never mature into manly ones – the smiles of men graduating from school, the smiles of men falling in love, the smiles of men trying to “man up” through a broken heart, the smiles of men getting their first “real” job, the smiles of men buying their mothers her first home, the smiles of men on their wedding day, the smiles of men holding their children. The smiles of men…

 Let me stand corrected – there was absolutely something “remarkable” about these three young men… they were alive.




Show Him Your Trump Card!

I have not up to this point, written or voiced my opinion on the Trump-issue. My reasons have been many-fold, running the gamut of, (1) still in shock, (2) the memes have said it all, (3) too obvious, etc, etc. However, last night was a very introspective one for me causing me to confront and acknowledge many of the goings-on swirling around me that I had, up until that moment only acknowledged with a slight twist of the lip. I woke this morning (thank you God) still in a reflective state of mind and, because my pathways are open, well, when your pathways are open you run the risk of letting someone else’s ‘run-off’ infiltrate. Sewage.

I have heard many spouting the “…moving to another country” bit and I have been wondering, “exactly where will you be going?!” Truly. What options will most of us have, geographically and economically? I guess those like me, exactly the immigrants he is so hot under the collar about, can pack up, turn in our Green Cards and US passports and return from whence we came. But honestly… how many of us will actually make that decision? Perhaps those that had been waiting on something to occur in order for them to get up off their ass will indeed take this opportunity to return. Those amongst us immigrants that always considered this desertion from their homeland a temporary one will in fact leave.


But, what happens to the majority? Those of us with little or no choice? Those with new and deepening roots in our adoptive country? Those that may no longer feel any ‘pull’ toward or much association with where they have left and have firmly assimilated into their current lives? What is to become of those without the protection that legitimate status offers? Yes, yes, I know… that can be his (Trump’s) point exactly – too many illegal immigrants in his country. But my questions stands, “what is to happen to those without protection? Those hard-working men and women who continue to sacrifice more than his racist, privileged ass could ever imagine – leaving children, spouses and parents behind to slave for the “White Man” in an attempt to better their realities? Those that run our kitchens, clean our homes, care for our children so expertly (filling their arms with the foreigner’s child, while someone else placates theirs)?” What about them/us?

While we shake our heads and hang our mouths at the arrogance, filth and destructive rhetoric of this Presidential-hopeful, while we even laugh at the schoolboy at recess shenanigans of debating the beauty and hotness of one conquest over another’s, let s all keep in mind that for as asinine as he is, the real worry are those sitting next to us in schools and those teaching us, standing behind us in lines and subway platforms, breaking bread with us, doling out paychecks, crossing with and against us in the streets, administering shots and birthing our babies… the list goes on. People, the scariest thing about Donald Trump are his supporters!

Yes, we can write about him. We can make fun of him. We can search for our passports and verify they’re still valid. We can, like he, spout the crap that provokes. We can threaten to leave, knowing full well there is nowhere to go. But of all the ‘disaster-preparation’ we can do, there truly is only one that separates us from those others that are hell-bent on our destruction and subjugation – voting! How about we plan to do this – shut up now and come November (that is when voting happens, yes?), put our finger where our mouth is! Vote, That man and all the others like him, are unfazed and unthreatened by the jokes and seeming outrage; why? Because despite our ire, we are still listening.

There is only one way to impress “The Donald”… Trump his power with ours. Vote!

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