The Internet can be a cruel and unusual abyss of half-cocked opinions and bargain basement analysis, especially when it comes to Black wom...
1st Birthday: Broken Silence Turns 1
This morning I got caught in the usual Mass. Ave. traffic. Somewhere around 4th & Mass. I was stopped in front of a grassy area that turns Soup Kitchen in the evenings. Since it was morning, the crowd was relatively light. The benches were occupied by lone folk, free of homes. Sad to say but their presence didn’t do anything different to affect my morning. I’m used to this scene and must be somewhat desensitized. I was, however, caught off guard by the man & woman lying back to back on a thin blanket in the middle of the grass. Their belongings, haphazard as they seemed, had some order to them & it appeared that people were keeping a respectable distance from them.
It occurred to me the beauty of having nothing but the person next to you, knowing they alone have your back no matter what. Don’t get it twisted! I am by no means saying that I’d rather be homeless & coupled than single & sheltered. Still, there’s always something moving to me about ride or die couples. This really could be all in my imagination (actually teaching a demo lesson on storytelling next week); I could have infused them into each other’s lives in a deeper way than is the truth for them, all while sitting in traffic. They might simply have an agreement:
"Lets look like a couple & prevent wild shit from happening to each other out here in these streets. You down?"
"Like goose feathers."
The questions is do I need the fantasy, some example of relationship depth & continuity that bad that I have to create it in the homeless? I pray not.
Before that little story could run away in my head, I used my mental eraser to remove the people but not the circumstance. It is not lost on me that I have a GREAT deal to be thankful for. More than that, I can be proud of myself for being hard working & dedicated to personal upliftment. This 1st anniversary of my public forum amazes me. I have a voice. Not only that, but I have a willing audience, no matter how small. Y’all come here to laugh & cry with me.
That’s deep, but not different.
Since the age of 12, people have sought my council, looked for my take on things. Oftentimes they laugh, but mostly they’ve come for the head scratch. Not everyone agrees with what I think. For the average person, my ideas & ideals may seem a little more than Mike Jack-off the wall. I suppose even in pissin’ people off, they find me interesting & hover on the sidelines waiting for the next quip or quibble. Mostly, I’m out here having fun while processing my own thoughts. I recognize the responsibility though. Over the past year, I have been responsible for releasing your truths through my own. Some of you speak now where you didn’t before, discovering it’s OK & you’re not alone.
IMPACT! More than a word used to piss teachers off in DC. It’s amazing when you can identify your impact. Mine lives in voice mails & texts from students. It sprouts from the awed faces of my classmates when I read my writing. It is mined every time I confidently take ownership of the blending of syllables. It’s in every hug & kiss on the forehead of a child. It’s each time that man smiles at me in disbelief because of some super power I don’t even identify with. With warm fingers & broad keystrokes I have touched--& been touched--& I don’t take that lightly. 1 year in…
Thank you for Watching me move.