Last weekend, in BK, I resided with Mean Sexy‘s sister,
Flybug Starski. We had one of those 4am, in the gristle
conversations. We discussed our paths in life, whether
we where we wanted to be and coping and planning for the future.
It was awkward, painful and necessary. She demonstrated
to me how my people can hold me down if I actually plan
ahead and ask for help.
I met Filthy Dubois in person for the first time and that
sh-t was bugged. You ever been caught off guard by how
easy it is to chill with someone?
I think we had an entire dialog using
Illmatic lyrics. Man. That sh-t had me gone.
Filthy ain’t Black. So, I caught some sideways glances from cats
while I was walking with him in Harlem. He was not
phased. I was just like “ay, blood, these dudes are tripping”.
But then again, chilling with him, forced me to confront my
own issues of seeing Black men with White women.
White parents with adopted Asian daughters.
My issue with Black men, who get degrees,
and then say that they are not dating Black women
anymore, because we “have too much mouth“.
In fact, SJ continually got on me about how careless it is
for me to make sweeping statements about some
white folks, or about any group in particular.
We all human, no?
Clearly, I have a lot to ponder.
Last week, I wrote on my hand,
“I hate these, I am going to meet my fate moments”.
We are entitled to our truth, but that confrontation
process is not what the streets want.
I am really rethinking the racial lens through which I see things.
Like first I was Malcom, now I’m El Hajj.