When White Women Approach Black Men at Night Be Ready

Dear Diary,

Last night I took the dog out for his nightly shit so that I could be reminded of my place in the universe.  The homeowner’s association had apparently voted to replace the grass that my dog normally fertilized with some sort of turf, and it was taking Sebastian a bit of getting used to.  Normally he was quick.  He could pee and poop and have me back in the house in under five minutes, but with the turf, he was inspecting things a bit more.

I wore a black wife beater, some camouflage shorts, and some fresh Adidas that I don’t get to wear often.  It was cold.  It was ten o’clock.

SebastianSebastian and I were accosted by our overly gregarious, middle-aged neighbor with his unfriendly Jack Russell Terrier, “There’s your friend girl” the space invader encouraged.  I noticed that he decided to wear shoes this time.  Maybe because it was late.  But, he did have on that same creepy Hawaiian shirt!  Where in the hell do they even sell those?

I gave Sebastian and the Jack Russell sufficient dog-ass sniffing time, and there was no incident this time.  Finally Sebastian found a spot that was worthy of his shit.

Just as I picked up his load, a demure woman whom I’d seen in distance walking toward me was upon us asking in a quiveringNegrophobia voice, “Can I just talk to you for a minute?”  My mind raced.  I thought of my kids.  I kicked myself for not having brought my phone.  I imagined this modest looking white woman yelling rape or screaming, and as “help” arrived to see her stabbing my lifeless body, everyone understood her preemptive strike because, after all, negrophobia is a legitimate legal defense, and besides, I’m 6’4″ and wearing camouflage and black on a dark night with my dark skin wearing dark Adidas walking a dog that is half black.  I lamented having decided to wear my contacts instead of my glasses, which made me seem more approachable and soft.  I was terrified of her.  She was a full foot shorter than me, and I was terrified of her.

I kept my distance, remained stoic, and agreed to give her a minute.  She started crying.  She cried a sentence or two, and after having her repeat herself, I understood that she had failed to make good on some opportunity to uphold her spiritual beliefs.  In fact, her exact words were, “I fucked up.  I had an opportunity to do good, and I didn’t.”  Now at this point, I thought I was a gonner!  I thought for sure that I would never see my children again.  I thought I would be stabbed to death in this gated community.  I thought this emotionally distraught white woman would shoot me, and I would be blamed for being in a well-to-do community in the first place.

As she cried real tears, fear gripped my heart.  I didn’t know what to do, so I asked her what her spiritualTibetan Buddhism belief system was.  I figured if she was a Christian or Muslim or Catholic, I could maybe stitch together something that sounded like it was in the Bible or Quran.  No luck.  “I’m a Tibetan Buddhist.”

“Oh.  Well, I don’t know much about Buddhism, but I’m sure there isn’t a group of people sitting in a room awaiting your arrival so that they can judge you and tell you how poorly you performed on some spiritual task.”

“Well, no it doesn’t work like that.” (sniffles with tears streaming)

“The fact that you’re crying, though, I think is a good thing.  To me that suggests that you have real conviction about your beliefs.  Your contrition symbolizes that you have integrity about your beliefs, and that’s a good thing.  That means you take this seriously, and you should.”  Now right about here is when her eyes opened wide, and she looked at me as if I was delivering some amazing Word.  She nodded as I spoke.  “My suggestion is that you not spend much time beating yourself up.  You recognize that you didn’t handle this situation the best way you could, and it hurts you.  That’s a good thing.  Now, move on from that, but don’t beat yourself up.  You want to be moving forward from a place of positivity.  It’s unproductive to try to move on from negativity.  That’s something I’ve learned irrespective of one’s belief system.”  She nodded in agreement and cracked a small smile.  “What’s your name?”

“Ashley.” (this is a pseudonym since this lady turned out to be my neighbor!)

“My name is Sundjata.”  We shook hands, and my fears subsided just a bit–not enough though.  “Well look Ashley, I’d love to chat with you a little more, but I have my baby in the house, and I have to get back in the house.”

“Oh okay.  No problem.  Yeah.  You have to take care of that.”

We started walking (awkwardly) in the same direction, and it turns out that this woman, Ashley, who I’d never seen before, is my very close neighbor.

I don’t know that there’s a lesson or a moral or anything like that.  I will say that I was shocked that this woman was willing to talk to me.  I suppose a la Charles Ramsey, I should’ve known something was wrong when a little pretty white woman came crying to my arms.  I’m not the most approachable-looking brotha, and I wasn’t dressed in an approachable manner.  I’m just glad that I had a jewel to drop.  I hope my positive outlook was of use.  I like to think it was.

This is my real life.  I simply couldn’t make this stuff up.

Colorado: Another Reason To Avoid Having Children?

So I’m watching the news about James Holmes who decided to shoot children and other moviegoers indiscriminately, and a guy in the neighboring theater was being interviewed about what he saw and heard.  When asked whether he was nervous that he wouldn’t be safe, he responded saying that because of Jesus, he knew that he’d be safe.

WTF?!

So, in his mind, Jesus didn’t care too much about those other people–the kids who just wanted to see a movie?  His smug ass, self-confident remark infuriated me!  Here’s a senseless massacre of life, and that’s his response?

It’s interesting, my partner on here, Earpiece, once was adamant about not bringing children into this world because it’s so ugly.  I argued that he is the type of man who should have children, and he does have two, but now more than ever, I really sympathize with his earlier notions. I’ve got two kids and a little boy on the way, and my heart is heavy for him and this world he has yet to see.

On the whole, events like this massacre in Colorado are outliers, and we’re safer now than we have been in years, but it’s hard to deny the horror that accompanies events like this.  My heart goes out to the families.

The End of the World: Pacific Standard Time

In December of 1999, I was at UCLA in line to get some ice cream with a friend.  The very normal looking White gentleman (well-dressed) who was standing behind me, jumped into my conversation (White people love to do that for some reason), and he asked whether I would be willing to give him the cash I was gonna use to buy ice cream and allow him to pay with his credit card.  I was confused for a millisecond, but then I remembered that the year 2000 was a couple of weeks away, and, of course, the world was gonna come to an end.  May as well charge up the ol’ credit cards.

If looks could kill, he would’ve been fine.  But, if looks could say,

You friggin’ idiot!  There’s no way that the world is going to come to an end in a few months, and if you really believe that, give ME your credit cards.  I’ll show you what to do with them!  I won’t be buying ice cream! Continue reading

WTF Wednesday: So Funkdafied

WTF Wednesday

I haven’t looked into this recently, but as I understand it, sometime during the Medieval era, the French, rather than cleaning their bodies, decided to create perfumes in order to mask what must have been ALL bad BO (body odor) back then.  This is no diss against the French.  Europeans believed that bathing too often (more than once a year) was bad (WTF?!). 

Anyhow, the year is now 2009, and thankfully, we have long since dispelled any myths about washing away our spirits or souls through bathing daily.  I mean, we have right?  Cuz if we haven’t, I’d like to know.  Let me now address that growing nation of people who have adopted the religion that just doesn’t suit me well–Funkdafism.  Now, you may, as I did, assume that this religion was based upon that song by Da Brat, but in actuality, this religion has been around for quite some time. 

BOThere is a Bible of sorts for Funkdafism.  The Jesus-like character’s words are not written in red as in the Christian Bible.  They are written in a yellowish-brown color, which best signifies just how funkdafied (not sanctified) the Jesus-like character’s words truly are.  There is still an idea of heaven and hell in this religion.  “Heaven” is the blissfully apathetic attitude people take towards not bathing daily.  “Hell” is what those of us who can smell these stinky ass people must go through!  Because followers of Funkdafism believe that there is no difference between death and life, they see no reason to not smell as if they are already dead.  That’s fine.  Naw, really, I don’t have a problem with that.  You can stink if you want to.  You can practice whatever religion you want to.  You can smoke if you want.  You can do meth if you want to.  But what you cannot do is force me to work with and around you. 

I should not be able to see your funk!  By all means, practice your religion, but do you really need to smell like warm bird shit and hot bus seats?  Aren’t you taking your religion a bit too far?  Is it really necessary to wreak of ass cheese, navel lint, and toe jam (Do you know what I mean–when the Funkdafist has that sweet stench that gags you uncontrollably?).  I respect our laws that allow for us all to practice our choice of religion freely–in theory–but got damnit!  You all are taking this shit too far!

From now on, I’m performing exorcisms on sight–er smell!  That’s right damnit!  I’ll be carrying spray bottles of soapy water, and squeegees with which I will clean you all in the name of that universal commandment: Thou shalt not smell like a wildebeest!

…there’s gotta be some rules people!

Got God? Do Better!

NEWS FLASH!

If you claim to be Christian or Muslim or Jewish or “spiritual” or “religious” or you have a “walk with god” or whatever, yet you find yourself constantly in the same places as people who hate your religion and/or deny your god–you listen to the same music they listen to; you sleep with them–and enjoy it; you watch the same movies they watch; you dress like they dress and talk like they talk–in other words, if you live and enjoy life the same way “unbelievers” do, what good is your religion, your god, and your spiritualism?  It’s worthless.

Do better!  Give those of us who are unconvinced something to look up to.  Don’t dry f*ck me in one of Hollywood’s nightclubs and be self-righteous about church.  That’s just stupid.  You wanna win souls folk, do better.  Live your god’s words.  Don’t slack.  You’re supposed to be different from everyone else.  Stop trying to fit in.

…Do better people.  Do better.