Sharing life with a Gemini is a perpetual roller coaster ride. You laugh, you cry, you frown, you smile. You never know what mood you'll get. You duck, you dodge, you miss, you hit.
But for the world, I wouldn't trade my Gem. I birthed, I nurtured, I support..I love him. He always manages to make me smile. I love our conversations, they jump from place to place, traveling for miles and miles.
The others? I know their love for me is insane, but that Gemini? He'll do anything for me, try to cook, tuck me in, even take walks with me at night or in the rain.
Time moves. Seems like just yesterday when you made your debut. When you got here, I sang the good parts of "Thanks for My Child" to you. Now, you're making your own music..it's rhythmic and smooth, just like you. And your acting? Ingrained! Devin, I am SO damn proud of you!
The bond we share is unbreakable, immeasurable, rock solid tough. I made sure our fabric was woven throughout the years with sweat, tears, spiritual essence and ancestral crux.
So on this day, at this hour, his hour, I honor him. The continuum of my soul, my legacy, the Mercurial Twin. The Gemini-Cancer saga continues to spin. Our 24-year journey together has been unpredictable, like the weather. We'll endure all life's forces, our souls bound together.
Keep your balance as we prepare for many more years. You were created in my image, you're my son. I'm your Earth-Goddess Mommy Dearest!
A friend sent me the video above that used the sport of track to metaphorically explain the plight of black people in America. After I watched the animation, I looked at the comments underneath. Up to my post, everyone wholeheartedly agreed that the animation is on point.
I couldn't agree. That video, coupled with recent protests just sent me over the edge. Why are we are competing? This is our lives, not a race! When I see examples like this one, I have to ask myself, "What is it really saying?" My answer came as this:
In the video, "they" were building; so why don't we? Apparently, even as a culture, some people simply run from what they don't or can't understand instead of confronting it. In the 40s, blacks were prosperous because we had and held our own.
Yet in 2014, although we are way more advanced, we behave mentally like we are still slaves. We can have, be and do the same things as "them." So, why does it feel like we are sitting around waiting on the proverbial "white man" to give us what we can obtain for ourselves?
In fact, they did give us something. Freedom! But what have we done with our freedom, and what are we going to do with it moving forward? So far, we have mentally re-enslaved ourselves by blaming everything that is wrong within our communities on "them." Everything! Alternatively, we should be exercising and/or taking advantage of our unity, voting rights, educational and political opportunities and entrepreneurship.
And speaking of entrepreneurship, when we do own businesses, we offer very little support. We would rather go outside our communities to shop, eat, be entertained and worship, then talk negatively about the customer service and unfair prices instead of rallying together to teach each other business savvy.
Recently, we have been protesting and complaining about how black people are treated by the police and the government in this country. It is definitely time for some justice, power and diversity training, but not just for the police and the government. It is also time for some accountability training within the black community for our roles in some of this madness.
In the streets, we are protesting for the police to stop killing our black men and boys. And we should! But we also need to lift our voices in unison and encourage our black men to obey the law and take responsibility for their actions. Be leaders. It is time to reteach and reveal the importance of getting an education. And not just academically, but real-world education as well that comes through networking, relationship building and connections that can be made on college campuses.
Furthermore, it is time for us to quit complaining about police officers and the injustice they impose, and become police officers within our own communities so that there is representation for the culture policing our streets. But many of us cannot do that because we cannot pass the drug and aptitude tests required to gain employment. We expect better grocery stores, healthcare, schools and streets in our neighborhoods, but will not vote during mid-terms or primaries to make it happen. In this day and age, voting and coming together to change laws is the best chance we have at real change.
So yes, the video says a lot. All the variables that flash (genocide, wealth disparities, discrimination, poor schooling, underemployment, standardized testing, racial profiling, etc.) still hold true today. But they are true because we accept them as our truth. But we unequivocally do not have to.
In the animation, the black runner accepts defeat when she comes up against a brick wall. It is apparent that she is waiting on something or someone else to knock it down for her, much like it feels that we, as a culture, are doing today. When in fact, like our ancestors before us, what we should do is pick up sticks and rocks, make our own hammers, bust that bitch down and create our own opportunities.
Finally, to be clear, none of the racism and murders and injustice being imposed upon us is acceptable. It is just unclear to me why we are being bystanders, just watching another race design our destiny, hoping they will show some consideration and compassion when, in fact, we are the authors of our own stories. And only until we pick up our metaphoric pens and begin to write will we find peace.
Until next time,
Live What You Love! I Do!™
delmetria l. millener writer | educator | available
i write for the very reason i breathe...
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
LESSONS PLANNED: Okay, it's time for me to say it, ask it. While I unequivocally do not agree that Darren Wilson should go free, I can't help but wonder, what WILL we teach our children from this? Mike Brown absolutely should not have been shot as many times as he was, and definitely not murdered. But in the scheme of things, Mike Brown also should not have robbed that store in the first place. And, if he was in fact inside the police car trying to rifle the gun, what consequences from those actions will we teach our youth to expect?
Jordan Davis. Definitely should not have been killed for his musical expression. But would it have hurt at all to turn his music down when he pulled into the store, to show SOME semblance of upbringing,
like we were taught in the days of carrying boom boxes on our shoulders?
Finally, Trayvon Martin. George Zimmerman is excrement for what he did to Trayvon. But what would have happened if immediately, when they first encountered each other, Trayvon said, "Hey, how ya doing?" It may not have changed a thing. But then, it may have.
To be clear, no one's child should be murdered. I have sons of my own and my daughter survived being shot in her chest, neck and face. All I know is, as a culture, isn't it past time to take accountability on ALL fronts? Not just impost it upon the aggressors, but the victims too? From my view, it just seems sometimes that we care when it's a little too late. #KnowPeace™
I just finished reading a post by a journalist named Wendy C. Thomas on All Digitocracy. I ain't mad at her. She did an excellent job of expressing how she feels as a black person, a black woman and a black woman in America. But what really made my ass want to sing a solo was a comment by someone posting as Jen that 90% of black people kill black people and that's what we should be concerned with.
Now, I don't go around badgering people in print because of their opinions, but this person said she was stating facts. From whom?! Is what I'd like to know.
But the post from the journalist, then the comment from Jen, all makes me wonder: was the movement for civil rights toward the right direction?
The part in Thomas's post about "hunted in their own country" disturbs me because this is not "our own country," no matter how free we "think" we are. It's theirs. And they've never wanted us here. Period. Separate but equal somehow seems a better balance to me. For us.
If separate but equal were the case, we would have been forced to have more black professionals (i.e., doctors, lawyers, judges, police offers, educators, inventors, scientists, researchers, leaders, politicians, lawmakers, etc.) and not depend on our counterparts to fill those roles both as leaders and motivators.
To that end, maybe, just maybe, black girls and women would appreciate the roundness of our asses and thighs, the fullness of our noses and lips, the kinkiness of our hair and the rhythmic sway of our hips, instead of spending so much, financially and emotionally, trying to emulate who we are not.
Maybe so much of our history wouldn't be lost or watered down, and our black children would of course know about Martin, but would also of course know about Bayard Rustin. They would know about Malcolm, no doubt. But no doubt also know Benjamin Banneker. They would definitely know about Parks, but also definitely know about Claudette Colvin. The Waltons, Kennedys and Rockefellers would be important too. But so would Madam C.J. Walker, what an ankh is and the fact that the first Chinese people were black. Yale, Harvard and Stanford would be impressive, but, first of all knowing what an HBCU is, then knowing what it feels like to have their rich histories flowing through our veins would be inspiring!
Black school children everywhere would also know, proudly I might add, that most of the household items that our counterparts use and improve upon today, were invented by blacks who were intelligent enough to develop products based on need. Maybe this knowledge would prompt them to invest in our own education, communities and businesses, instead of doing what we do today--spend our dollars in "their" communities, businesses and schools.
And finally, maybe a blog poster named Jen wouldn't offer statistics that are smoke screens and mirrors based on facts from whites, by whites. She should know the undocumented cases are never spotlighted, usually because they were imposed by whites. #TheStateOfOurNation #SignOfTheTimes #TheMeltingPotIsBoilingOver
Post Script: If Jan was as astute in her observations of Wendy as a professional as she was in her "facts" about black on black crime, she'd have noticed that although Wendy is a journalist, All Digitocracy did note that, "This piece first appeared on Wendi’s blog and is republished here with permission from the author.
Imagine driving along the coast in a convertible. The fresh air is crisp and blowing gently around your face. The sun is setting. It's the "golden time of day." Ahead you see a huge boulder that has tumbled off the rocky cliff. It's falling down..down..toward the road, fast. When you see it, you drive at top speed because you want to drive right under it so that it crushes you. Robin Williams probably felt the same way. Lost and alone in a world full of people.
Before his body was probably stiff, Robin Williams's death evoked pleas all over social media for humanity to take better care of ourselves and each other. But all the accountability in the world is no match for a cocktail of mental illness and drug abuse. It's impenetrable. Being there is awesomely commendable--people need that. But it's simply not enough to penetrate the root.
The Root: you're laughing with your family or friends, having an amazing day! All of a sudden, you call your mom a bitch and your grandmother and weak. You call the cops on them, but curse them because they have on dark blue uniforms instead of tan. Your words cut everybody deep because you blurt out secrets you've been told or expose insecurities of those you know are weak. An hour later, you're laughing again and have no clue why everyone else is crying or upset. You cozy up to a few of the people you've just masticated to the core. You don't remember a thing. When you're reminded by the very people you've hurt, you become depressed and lie in bed for days wondering who you are and why you do the things you do. One minute you're Shirley Temple-like, the next, you're Linda Blair during her exorcism. It's mental identity theft. A chemical imbalance in your brain. The beast that attacks your mind.
Let's do more to attack this beast at it's core. I challenge you. I DARE you. Let's change mental health legislation. One of the most difficult tasks I've ever had to face is trying to get mental health rehabilitation for someone who suffers mental illness. For four years, I relentlessly tried to get help. So far, the red tape is permanently sealing the box of hope.
All a mentally ill adult has to say is, "No, I don't have a problem," when asked if they want help, and that's that. Umm...they're mentally ill. What did you expect them to say? And for a mentally ill teen? Forget it! They call it puberty and drag out the process until they become adults. Despite a collection of medical, criminal and academic records as proof of mental, emotional, physical and social disarray, the movement for psychiatric balance is a long night of mental slavery.
The biggest fallacy is mental health clinics-- they're legalized trap houses. Someone who suffers a mental deficiency can go into a government-funded clinic, admit they need help, wait about eight to twelve hours, talk to a psychiatrist for five minutes, then receive prescriptions for a bag of pills, which might be the wrong dosage. Usually they are the wrong dosage.
While researching my upcoming book, "Identity Theft: Searching for Psychiatric Balance™," a psychiatrist told me mentally ill people self-medicate with drugs or alcohol to subdue the mental chaos, and a social worker said their lives usually end tragically or too soon since they put themselves in dangerous situations trying to reach their mentally ill high (which is more potent that cocaine or crack) or calm it.
So please, let's be a shoulder, soother, confidant or BFF, but let's be MORE than that. It is imperative that we communicate with legislators. Find the right level of government to approach in your area. Write senators, aldermen, congressmen/congresswomen, mayors, even the President, to change minds (pun intended).
While fans contended with suffocating heat brought about when the air went out in the the AT&T Center in San Antonio, the Spurs contended with the Miami Heat and sizzled in a 110/95 victory.
Presumably, King James left the game due to the stifling temperature that is predicted to have reached above 90. Nevertheless, the Spurs remained focused on their goal to push past the Heat (pun intended) to take Game 1.
In a post-game interview with ESPN, Duncan explained how the Spurs played through their discomfort with success.
"It was significant -- definitely a factor," Duncan said. "Don't know what happened to LeBron, but I think all of us were feeling the heat and all of us are a little dehydrated."
In Game 1 against San Antonio, Miami got #spurred.
One day after speaking with my “business trustees” and “backers,” I was charting my business plans on my “Parking Lot” strategy worksheet, when it hit me. I’m a writer. Saying it was, in tandem, new and familiar and confusing. The forefront of my mind tried to convince. I know I’m a writer. The back of my mind fought back. When’s the last time you wrote?
Then, a funny thing happened. I pushed the “struggle with myself” out of my head long enough to refocus on the task at hand—serial entrepreneurship. I was reaching high on the 10th shelf of my book case for a reference book when the footstool on which I had always stood shook, and I fell—embarrassingly awkward and unnecessarily hard.
Freakishly, as I laid there baffled for at least 20 seconds, Starving Artists Find Food, the first book I wrote, fell off the bookshelf and landed directly onto my head. Twenty seconds later! True story.
Well, there’s a clue. So I opened the book and like magnetic attraction, my eyes zoomed in on a part I’d quoted from the Morgan Freeman movie, Along Came a Spider. “Do what you are.” It was Divine Intervention.
What’s Yours? Don’t you think it’s time you found out what you are? And do you?
But for the world, I wouldn't trade my Gem. I birthed, I nurtured, I support..I love him. He always manages to make me smile. I love our conversations, they jump from place to place, traveling for miles and miles.
But for the world, I wouldn't trade my Gem. I birthed, I nurtured, I support..I love him. He always manages to make me smile. I love our conversations, they jump from place to place, traveling for miles and miles.
.jpg)
