The Day The President Wrote To Me.

Dear President Obama:

I received your most gracious letter yesterday; thank you.

Before I address the specifics of your note, I would like to thank you for your service these past eight years; I can only imagine how difficult it was at times, or how downright frustrating. Through it all however, you maintained such decorum, exercised such strength and hopefulness, maintained your integrity and was the embodiment of a loving husband and supporting and nurturing father. Mr. President, you led by example.

It would be so very easy to, given what we are being force-fed with now, to compare you and your presidency with what we will be in store for for at least four years; but I will not insult you that way. From all that I have seen and for all you have done and attempted to do for us, you do not need to be that dishonored. In no way are you that good, simply by virtue of our current choices being that bad.

Mr. President, you and the First Lady have been an inspiration to me and will continue to be so for the rest of my life. You humanized the White House and for that, “Thank you, Sir.” You stepped outside of the confines of your job and met us where we are. You never spoke down to us, but rather respected our intelligences enough to address us at the level we have already achieved and the one you know we will get to. You loved your woman right in our faces and in doing so, exemplified the sanctity of commitment and honor.

Mr. President, I hope as you pack your boxes and bags and leave the home you built for the past eight years that you never totally withdraw from our lives; that would be a tragedy we shall ill recover from. I know, given some of the responses and treatment you have experienced I may be asking too much, but Sir, I believe you can handle this request. You see, this country needs you and the First Lady. As a black woman, you (both) signify hope to me. I look at you, my soul responds to your smile and FLOTUS’ willingness to participate in the everyday realities and shenanigans that is our world. The spoofs, dances, speeches, outings, PSAs, date nights, style, caresses… they all reach far past the invisible wall of your Secret Service and touch us.

Thank you, Mr. President.

Yesterday, as you very well know Sir, I became a citizen of The United States of America. Thank you.

Thank you for welcoming me. Thank you for the words of validation, hope and encouragement. Thank you for acknowledging and thus honoring the importance of the immigrant’s work in building and sustaining this nation. Thank you for being the kind of president that speaks words of honor and respect.

Sir, I will be the kind of citizen that will make both you and America proud. As an American, I pledge to fulfill my responsibility to vote, contribute to the economy, bear arms if called upon to do so (by the government), honor through my words and actions those that have given their lives, fought and those who continue to fight to ensure not only my physical safety and freedom, but my freedom to express myself and my freedom to love whom I love. I will be the kind of citizen that recognizes and values the reality that my presence here, as a naturalized citizen could mean that resources and opportunities could have been redirected from another American of birthright. Thus, I will do my best to give back.

Yesterday morning your insight, fairness, wisdom and dedication to equality allowed me to stand before the American flag, raise my right hand and take a place (along with 250+ others) amongst the other citizens of this great nation. Thank you. I was and continue to be so very honored, incredibly humbled and awed. 20161020_130241

I am an American. Sir, I am just like you.

Now, I am in tears.

Mr. President, we will miss you. For blacks, you gave us back something we had not believed in in such a very long time – hope – for our political, social and private selves. You made new dreams for our children and changed their conversation… “When I grow up, I want to be the president!” But it is not only for blacks you worked; I can honestly say you were a president dedicated to all citizens of this country you so clearly love. Thank you. Even as some may have objected with your policies and decisions, I found comfort knowing your intention was always good. Thank you.

So Sir, thank you for what you have done for my adoptive country in general and for what you have opened up for this simple girl from Trinidad, in particular.

America! America! God shed His grace on thee

And crown thy good with brotherhood

From sea to shining sea!

God bless you, Mr. President.

Diane.

… When Your Shit Goes South.

 

So, Mrs. KKW (wow, lucky for her she did not marry say, R. Kelly) got tied up and robbed in Paris. As a law-abiding human being and one that possesses quite her share of compassion for her fellow human beings, I am glad she was not physically hurt. As a rational human being however and one who advocates strongly for the acceptance of responsibility for one’s actions, I cannot help but to cock my head to the side and wonder (and now say out loud), “Ahm… maybe minimizing the presence of yourself, your baubles and your location on social media may be a good idea?!” I know. I know. I know… THAT is all she is famous for. Sigh.

In all seriousness however, I concede that bad guys are bad guys and the responsibility for this act lands squarely at their feet. Yes. I absolutely shy away from blaming the rape victim for what she was wearing. However, the reality is that for so many Ms. KKW and her clan are a joke, flaunting their shenanigans and excesses so shamelessly that fucking with them either verbally or in this case, physically/invasively/financially is an opportunity too good to pass up! Oh! And then there’s this – stay tuned – this could very well be a publicity stunt (or maybe Mr. KKW needed his 4.5 million dollar ring back…).

Okay, this time it truly is, “in all seriousness”.

Whatever this latest escapade turns out to be, again I am glad she was unharmed. Tthings can be replaced (yes, yes I know… so can Kim. All that needs to happen is someone again assembles a bunch of parts and attach them together J ). But what I would like us all to be constantly aware of is how much we expose of ourselves and our lives on social media. This concept of ‘checking in’ is dangerous. Posting pics that flaunt our possessions, foolish. Playing out our relationships, childish (leave that ‘relationship status’ button alone!).

Listen, Lord knows I share a lot. And in doing so, I willingly invite you all into (parts of) my life. But I want you all to recognize that – it is always just to “parts of” my life. In doing so, I accept the feedback I get may hurt, disappoint or piss me the fuck off. I accept that. That is a consequence of my laying down the mat and inviting you in. But believe me when I tell you that the parts of me that are most sacred, precious or fragile I do not expose. My daughter, for instance, will always be behind an electrified fifty-foot wall, with barbed wire on the top. Protected. Because the reality is this – the responsibility is mine, by my example, to show you what is off-limits. What needs to be protected. What you cannot touch. So often we place what is supposed to mean so much to us before an audience that is comprised of some we know and many we don’t and expect a standard that we do not either set or uphold. We expect friends, acquaintances and complete strangers to honor what we don’t.

The world is made up of some absolutely fantastic folks and then, just for shits and giggles, there are those less-than-stellar people to add some color and teach us some lessons. People who simply stand by to take advantage of the opportunities we purposely or unwittingly provide. She provided one. Well, actually, many. Her need for social and media popularity leave her, her possessions and sadly her family extremely exposed. I hope she learns from this experience.

As I pray we all do.

Protect what is yours. Place the XXX magnum condom over the shit you profess to want to keep safe. And only let those you trust see what you’re working with 😉

 

 

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