So the below piece is something I wrote and posted on my Facebook on September 12th, after finally waking up after my Humira injection. Sipping coffee while standing and then finally sitting at the kitchen counter, hunting and pecking this guidance out on my tablet over the course of several hours. It’s that driven sensation, perhaps still connected to the universe through the recent dreaming, allowing all of this to churn itself outwards from my fingers. I’m compelled to speak up, again. And in this case, cuss like a motherfucker.
Facebook posts end up lost in the constant updates to one’s timeline. Especially mine. I’m GalWithGloves pretty much everywhere on social media. My public posts are decidedly public, all for a reason. Often Anti-racist information. As I posted this writing on there, I’ve found out that it’s meant something to those who have read it. It’s lifted some spirits up, right when it’s needed. Right when we have a president who upholds white supremacy. So I’m posting it here, on my blog, in case someone who is exhausted and justifiably upset is needing to be seen, heard, and believed. Looking for a little faith in a world designed to oppress them, body and hope…
So I wake up from my Humira coma this afternoon to discover that I’ve been suspended yet again on #NextDoor for being “unneighborly” here in #ketteringohio…You want to know what’s unneighborly? Police yard signs that exist only because white people are scared of #Black people protesting and rioting to demand the same privileges that the whites already got.
So this is really long. Tissues may be needed due to imagery and names. Facebook also apparently has a limit of 50 tags. So if a tag doesn’t work, please copy and paste into Google to find out more.
There are Black neighbors, exhausted, having to pretend they don’t see this shit or feel bothered by it. It’s fine that I’m suspended. Every suspension is proof to me that I’m doing the Lord’s work and they can’t stand it. People around here in the suburbs are so exceptionally entitled and sheltered. There’s this insane desire to “keep the peace.” Meanwhile, #NoJusticeNoPeace..
Every suspension is a win for #goodtrouble. I’ll never stop bringing up #BlackLivesMatter on NextDoor here in the white suburbs. I know there are neighbors who are afraid to say anything different because they don’t want to alienate people. Me? I don’t give a fuck. Probably from all that military moving around as a kid, combined with my work. My next-door neighbors have a Trump sign in their yard now. You think I can trust that? With everything Trump stands for? Let’s not forget that someone on my street fucked with my Black Lives Matter yard sign. You think I can respect anyone who does that? Fuck no. And you all actually know me…my neighbors really don’t. Talking to neighbors is some customer service voice and conversation skills level shit. They have never heard me talk or be as my true self, even on NextDoor (which is why suspensions are further hilarious…I never cuss! But I should! Racist assholes.)
Also, I tweeted at Next Door to document and share another example of unneighborly bullshit suspensions. If you check the tweets sent to them, you’ll often find stories of how those calling out the racism are punished while the racists are not, especially if the Leads are racist conservatives. Many things came to light when NextDoor started to “allow” Black Lives Matter discussions. Getting suspended is just proof of white people’s discomfort with the discussion of Black Lives.
“But these signs are about Police…” Oh, are they? Are they really? Because the timing is awfully telling of the fact that it’s not and that your lily-white ass is so scared of Black protest and riots that you feel you need to make sure that the police know that you must be protected because you have the golden ticket staked into your lawn. Don’t forget to leave Santa Blue a plate of donuts and a mug of coffee for when they come to save you at midnight.
Now I support the police…with my tax dollars. Quite frankly, #AllPublicServiceJobsMatter, ahem. But I don’t trust them anymore. Not after the frightening stories that have been shared with me by my Black friends. #BelieveBlackPeople They have more than one story. I’ve never been scared at a police stop. And I can count the number on less than one hand for being stopped. They often have more stories than the fingers on one hand. They fear for their children, especially as they grow up. They fear for their spouses, parents, cousins, sisters, and brothers…direct blood or not. They know the feeling of watching their loved one walk out the door of their home and not know if they’re going to come back, like #AhmaudArbery. Except in this case, unlike cops, it’s not because of a uniform that they can peel off at the end of shift. It’s because of the Black color of their skin. They can’t take off their skin! It’s alive, unlike the blue fabric of a police uniform. When you shoot them, they bleed from their Black skin being deliberately punctured. They bleed out from their Black bodies. They die because they’re Black. They’re pursued because they’re Black. They’re watched because they’re Black. They’re followed because they’re Black. They’re chased because they’re Black. They die because they’re Black. Their mothers weep from the depths of their beating hearts and traumatized yet resilient souls because someone, often white, killed their beautiful Black baby. The precious child they brought into this world and held in their arms, feeding from their bosom to grow up into an adult; something that every parent wants. But Black people are punished for it.
Police can hide in plain sight, plain clothes. Black people cannot (and if you think they can because of lighter skin tone, then that’s on you for refusing to see them truly since white is always the default to us whites). Police are paid to be police. Black people are not. Police are given a vehicle to drive around to do their job. Black people are followed and stopped for driving any kind of car, but especially one that looks nice and was bought with their own extra hard-earned money (worked for twice as hard with at least twice the effort of any white person; see Trump vs. Obama.) They’re pulled over for driving anywhere, but especially in the “wrong” area (also Oakwood and then Desiree Tims experienced this in Genoa Township in 2019, and then they created news articles and a Facebook page against her regarding the incident to deliberately malign her reputation.) Hell, Black people are watched and followed, even questioned, for just walking down the “wrong” street, even if they’re carrying a clipboard (Oakwood). Police are given a uniform, badge, and gun. Black people are humans born into this world, crying out as they take their first breath just like every white baby…except their pain, their health issues, and their health emergencies are often questioned and ignored. Their Black mothers are at a higher risk of dying from childbirth than any white mother reading this.
My workplace lost just such a Black mother last year. She had just passed the difficult training and probationary period to dedicate herself to public service, bringing a precious child into this world, and it was all taken away. Her Black child has no Black mother to hold them, to rock them to sleep, to nurture them, to watch them grow up, and smile at the wonder of her beautiful Black child. I don’t know if she was even able to see or hold her baby after birth. Imagine this. Now this Black mother must watch her Black child grow up from heaven, with their #ancestors wrapping their spiritual arms around them both, for strength, for hope, for protection. Because they know that her Black child is going to be hunted from first breath to the moment of their final exhalation. The Black ancestors know all too well. For they bear marks and lashes upon their Black skin from the hatred of their white masters. Their Black bodies were repeatedly violated in rape for the enslavement of so-called “pleasure” of their monstrous white masters. The Black mothers had their own Black babies ripped out of their arms, sobbing and screaming for their inherent right to be mothers. All taken away to be sold and enslaved. The white masters ignored them, likely punishing them for their rightful rage.
And you wonder why their Black descendants protest, riot, and even kneel? I would burn the world down too if my blood carried the fire of so many deliberate crimes against Black motherhood, Black skin. Wouldn’t you? Can you hear them scream “My baby! My baby!”? This happened over and over and over to enslaved Black mothers. In fact, it’s still happening now. Imagine how the mother of #GeorgeFloyd must have felt up there in heaven watching her Black son be murdered by a power-tripping white cop? Her baby. Her baby. Imagine how their Black ancestors felt watching the white masters murder through lynching again, shaking their heads because this has gotta stop.
I want you to know that when Black people protest, they aren’t alone. Never alone. Their Black #ancestorsspeak and march with them too. You may not be able to see them, but you can feel them, you can hear them speak in the buzzing of the air. There is a fire burning in all of the hearts of Black people, living and passed over. You cannot extinguish it, not with the police, not with busybody neighbors peeking out from their shades and calling 911, not from your racist fear that Black people are out to harm your entitled, racist lily-white ass, not from hunting them down in daylight or hunting them down unannounced as they sleep in their beds dreaming of a better future after serving their community in a deadly #pandemicc. The fire grows ever higher, ever brilliantly. It spreads out to catch and feed the hearts of everyone who demands that #BlackLivesMatterAlways. It caught my ticking heart. Has it caught yours? If not, why is that? Why don’t you care about Black Lives? Just imagine looking in a mirror every day and wishing that people, especially white people, didn’t look at you and hate your Black skin, your beating heart, your Black culture, your #BlackityBlackBlackBlack soul. Just imagine for wanting to be loved, cared about, admired, and kept safe. I bet if you’re white, it’s pretty easy to imagine because you already have it. Then why don’t you want that for them? For their Black lives, their #Black skin, their Black children, their #ancestorswildestdreams?
And if you have a problem with that, then you have a problem with me and my lily-white ass and I am never going to stop speaking up for #BlackLivesMattering, especially at work and on motherfucking Next Door. Black Lives Matter is not political. Black Lives Matter is their lives, their skin, their hopes, their dream, their future. Look at the past that our ghostly pale asses put them through. Look at the present day, where it fucking continues under an illusion of equality lies. Black people deserve a better future and they should be given it without even having to demand it. And then y’all are surprised that they demand one, even if they kneel for it. What did you expect? What did you expect when you tied a rope around a tree and lynched out their breath? What did you expect when you stole them from their homelands, enslaved them, stacked them up like matchsticks to suffer a journey across the ocean (which they didn’t ask for), trapped them on foreign land, and demanded that they serve you without question, without resistance, and with respect? Respect that the masters and enslavers didn’t deserve, even! And then in present-day, white society still expects and demands that respect from Black people, even down to the style of every single strand of hair. And then you have the gall to respond to Black people with that “all lives matter” bullshit? You can’t even respect their names! Nor their Black skin. Their Black hair. Their Black food. Their Black voice. Their Black mind. Their #BlackityBlackBlack culture.
To be brutally and unrepentantly honest, if you can’t respect that Black Lives Matter, then I can’t respect you. If you can’t stand with the movement of voices calling for Black Lives to matter now and in the future, then you are not as good of a person as you think you are. You are by no means as Christian as you think you are. There are #Satanists better than you because they often support Black Lives Mattering. Hell, there are even #witchesagainstwhitesupremecy, including myself 🔥🧙♀️🔥.
Try as you might, the fire burning in these hearts will never go out in the fight for Black Lives Matter This fire is as born of pain old as time, and it spreads across space, across generations, beyond death, throughout life. You cannot stop the fight for Black Lives Matter. Be as angry as you want about it, but you’re only #TellingOnYourself. That’s all right though. We can see you coming, going, ignoring. You’re not hiding anything. We see your Trump signs, your police support signs, your smirks, and your stares as we support Black Lives Matter. It’s a real shame how you refuse to support Black human rights. It speaks volumes about your heart and your character. Volumes on your hypocrisy as a human being.
We see you. We know you. And we’ll fight for Black Lives Matter in spite of every stupid selfish, and sociopathic thing you try to use to block it. This fire burns so brightly in their hearts, minds, souls, that not even Death dare extinguish it. Who do you think was there waiting with open arms to console the Black lives crossing over? Who do you think held them safe as they crossed the other side into the brilliant light and stood watching as they reunited with other Black lives that have already crossed over? Who do you think was there to escort the white masters and others who contributed to Black enslavement into Final Judgment? Life and Death are eternal, as is the fire that they lit within each of us as we are born and as we die, to rejoin the Light. I think Life and Death are tired, just as Black people are exhausted themselves. Life knows this and keeps that fire burning, even through unending exhaustion. Death knows this and makes certain that the ancestors can reach their descendants, direct blood or not, from the other side. Watching over them, always. They are their #ancestorwildestdream And no one, no one…not even selfish scared racists in selfish white Suburbia can stop the truest #love