Compositions.

(Blank) me.

Breathe me.
Take in my air. Let me fill your lungs.

See me.
Let visions of me blind you from all shades of gray that seek to cover our color.

Hear me.
My laughter will be what you listen for and mute anything that sounds remotely like doubt.

Talk me…
to sleep. Your words will serve as a lullaby and I’ll dream of us.

Feel me.
That phantom touch is my hand. The hand that waved goodbye but never lifted high enough to say hello again.

theniftyfifties:

Grace Kelly reads.

From Nigger to Nigga: The Blackest of History

This is not justification for my use of the word “nigga”, just my feelings about it and experience with it.

About seven years ago my boyfriend at the time was biracial, Caucasian and Korean to be exact. In casual convo I was explaining a situation that happened and of course I used exact quotes. Don’t worry, I cite my sources.

In the story I said “nigga” quite a bit and wasn’t conscious of my excessive use of it until after he mentioned it when I was done my story. He will probably never remember this but it really resonated with me and forced me to examine something about myself I was deaf and dumb to; my acknowledgement of my usage.

In the most calm way with good intent he says “Why do you get offended when others say it but you use it all the time?” At first I felt some kind of way. Not really sure why but I was taken back by the fact that he was really paying attention to me and kind of put me in check at the same time. Being the militant person I am, I knew I had to use this opportunity to say something deep that covered me for my word usage while counter-checking him for calling me out. Needless to say, I couldn’t find some insanely intelligent rebuttal because there was no excuse. I simply said “It’s an in-house word. For example, I know you’ve called your sister out her name before…as siblings tend to do right?” He agreed and I continued to say that “you can call your sister anything you want because that’s YOUR sister, let someone else that isn’t related to her call her out her name and you’ll go off. It’s kind of like that.” I was content with my response in spite of how rushed and premature it was but I could see in his hazel eyes he just was not convinced. The subject changed so I never really got to follow-up and ask him if he understood my reasoning. This only made me question the understanding of my own reasoning. Was my response just a quick save to divert my excessive “nigga” drop and make light of it? To be honest with you, I still don’t know. I probably never will. I’ve come to somewhat of a conclusion about “nigga’s” cameos in my convos. My thoughts as to why I have kept it around for so long.

This is not a tirade to defend my use but to clarify why I still use it despite its ugly connotation.

Our people have been known to master the “remix”. We can take anything, flip its meaning to fit our current subculture. Especially our rappers, they stay relevant because of their gift to reinvent. We would get bored with the same adjectives and expletives, they make it so our everyday ideals are reconstructed. They have tampered with what we have known things to be. They tell us what it is now. They force change by letting their profession rest on being the Lords of Oxymoron. They take the ugly scarlet letter and make it a term of endearment. It could even serve as a placeholder similar to a zero if you’re on the wrong side of it. Am I saying I’m a rapper? Nope. I can’t spit 16 off the top but as much as I hate to admit it. I’m a clone of pop culture and the sum of black culture. The word “nigga” comes with the territory.

Now my opinion only applies if “nigga” is just a word in the lexicon and not a mindset or lifestyle. If it is the latter…nigga I don’t know what to tell you.

First Aid

Healing hurts and it is uncomfortable but necessary to get back to normal function. You know when you put alcohol on a cut and there’s that initial burn? The best thing I could compare my advice to is alcohol. It stings at first but when you really let it settle and get in good, it can clean all the mess up. If you want protection and covering, I can do that too. Sort of like a bandaid. However, I will NOT put the bandaid on before I clean your wound. Don’t ask me for my opinion, thoughts, or advice unless you can handle the sting.  

While in the store…
Mom: Oh that’s nice that rapper started a hair care line *points at jar* 😀
Me: Umm mom, you mean Talib Kweli 😁 #HipHop #HairCare

Temporary Solace in Eternal Sunshine

I am extremely familiar with the soundtrack for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Jay Electronica’s mix tape over its music score. Today I actually watched the movie. Ehhhhh, not sure if it was a wise choice. Great movie and all but now I am consumed with the concept that there is some clinic that provides its clients with selective memory loss through object conditioning.

If art imitates life, why can’t such a place exist? I can’t say that I’d dedicate my days in search of but now I have something to hope for to serve as a distraction to the memories I want to erase.

Maybe that was the point of the movie all along. Life provides salve for all of memory’s ills, just no actual cure.