RIPE: Fruit of Life

My little hands pushed away the tight coiled hairs from her teary-eyed face. I see an older reflection of me broken by familiar hands like rocks to a glass house. Made in her image, she gently grabbed my hands from her face.

“Don’t be ever be ripe enough for a man to eat you”
“What do you mean, mommy?”

Her caress pulled me in close to her chest, playing with my hair that she made in her image. Seeing the living impression of her she continued,

“Baby, you have are made by mother nature. Skin dyed by the sun, kissed by its rays. In you contain mothers nature. You are the fruit of it,” she smiled and grabbed my tiny nose.

I giggled, “Can I be an apple mommy, I like apples?

“You can be any fruit you want to be honey. You contain the seeds of life. You are the soil that forth the flowers. You have tears that cleanses me, you are joy, you are the smile on my face. You are power. You are black. Let no one, no man, nobody take it away from you. You have a power to move worlds and they know that. You are a woman.

I shot her a look of confusion, unaware of anything, “I just want to be an apple because they are sweet!”

Beneath The Benevolent Sun

It started with one phone call from an unknown area code, then over the next few days the calls became relentless. Twice a day, seven days, from two different numbers on both my cell phone and home phone. With every missed call followed a voicemail on each device. Usually, I don’t bother to listen to voicemail’s, however, I decided to be an obedient twenty-three year old and follow up. That’s when I realized it was her! She has been notoriously known for decades as dark gray clouds looming beneath the benevolent sun. As you see, what was once a shadow ingeniously creeping from behind when I nourish my face in the warm sun is now hazing every corner of my being. An inevitable event when one chooses to follow the ideal path of society. The grave rumors about her power, a power that can cast a vanishing spell on you financially, weekly or bi-weekly. If you haven’t figured her out yet, her name is Donald Trump–I mean Sallie-Mae. She found me.

I had just freshly showered when the time neared a half hour past eight. The morning sun still young yet strong with her rays illuminating my messy room when the unknown–well, now, well known area code appeared on my cell phone. I cursed the air before I answered, “Hello?” This time her voice was deep and masculine trying to ask if it was I who was on the other end on the phone. Like, don’t play stupid with me. This ill-famed monster has been tirelessly sending her minions out to harass me every chance she gets. She know’s who I am. I know who Sallie-Mae is. Let’s cut the crap!  Of course, the topic was about a payment I was unsure of, in fact, I did not even know a payment had past let alone start! The new voice asked for my way of paying, either debit or credit. I should’ve said stripping, prostituting, occasional drug dealing. Sniffing coke to cope. “Debit,” I said. I forward all of my information when it occurred to me he may possibly be charging my card immediately!

“Wait, are you charging my card right now?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute, damn did you even see if I can pay right now! I don’t have the money at the moment.”
“I can push the date back until the thirtieth, but you need to pay before you mess up the co-signers credit score.”

Fuck. That means my mother. I hung up the phone, sat on my bed to pace my breath before I wet the tip of my fingers. fixing my posture, trying to be a big boy, I starred into the morning sun about to hide behind the building. It was something I wanted to do a the moment. Crawl and hide. Yeah, it sounds very immature. You’re probably saying how I need to man up, deal with it, it’s life, and all the other evasive sayings. The matter is, I don’t believe in that way of living: Suffocating under loans and debit while making income that barely scratches the surface, because I want try and find myself, solidify my identity the past six years. I’m only twenty three. I’m only twenty three.

I am only two decades and three years in and already I have IRS and his wife Sallie-Mae down my throat choking my prime years and other bills…Yes, other bills. Food, grooming, clothes, hobbies, school, phone, transportation. In other words, I see how depression is very profitable to the Big Pharma. Not saying I am there….yet. On a positive note, there is always good food. That will always be there.

 

The Raven-Symonè Syndrome: Blacks Agreeing with Raven-Symonè’s Discrimination

The Raven-Symonè Syndrome: Blacks Agreeing with Raven-Symonè’s Discrimination

After Raven-Symonè made her outlandish comment on The View stating she would not hire people with black names or more specifically names like “watermelon-andrea”, the black community came together once again to take her to her grave. Be it on Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram the black presence was a stern one in siding against her, because to be quite frank, she was referring to your friend, family or you! Raven had already caught her first strike from the Oprah interview when she gleefully disassociating herself from the black community. You know, usually most Disney Kid stars (or any kid Star for that matter) goes through that phase to exile themselves from the innocent characters they play by overtly selling sex, doing hard drugs, or become Miley Cyrus for a few months, but miss Raven-Symonè no! She chose to embarrass herself in such a way that it will hit her fans to the core. She choose to tamper with the identity of other people, carelessly! As you see, people like Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears, Olsen Twins, Miley Cyrus, and more had their own fall out from the “good-girl” image that was personal to them, where the supporters can watch and ride reconstruction wave with them. Raven on the other hand, You can’t even explain it, you have to name it for what it is and i’m calling it the Raven-Symonè Syndrome.

What is the Raven-Symonè Syndrome? It’s when a person disassociates themselves from a community while still looking like the community and not assimilating into another entirely, to then discriminate against the people you were once-if ever- connected to. In other words, anybody that is sounding like miss thing on The View. Morosely, I seen a lot of this going on in many social media platforms. And it’s sad, it’s very sad! Blacks left and right are agreeing saying things like, “Well, she has a point, these ghetto names are getting out of hand,” or “I won’t hire anybody either with that name.” Now, in reality we all know they are not talking about the name “watermelon-andrea,” but names like Laquashia, Shaquashia, Latoya, Shaneneh, Rashida, Moesha, and so forth. So to those that this applies to please help me break down your logic! The people that are proudly agreeing have no business in which they can even remotely filter out any “ghetto names” nor they even have a entrepreneurship plan set to go in fruition tomorrow. Granted, you don’t need to own a business to hire someone, but as a black person you mean to tell me you will not hire another brother or sister because of name they ultimately did not choose? If you cannot look past a person’s name before actually viewing their character, then there’s something psychologically wrong with you.  It’s the ones that complain about lateefa not having a job and being on welfare, but yet prevent her from getting a job because of her name. Please explain to me in what form does this correlation makes sense!

It is also the same ones, whose wigs are on too loosely and wrist bent for the Gods that suffers from this syndrome! People of color in the LGBTQ+ community split their lips up and down agreeing with this discrimination, yet get mad when someone’s Grindr says Whites and Latino’s only or another Adam profile says masculine only. You want the world to see you past your sexuality while not hiring your friend Latisha. You bagger when society says, “pick a gender,” “pick a sex to love and stick with it,” while oppressing the next person in the same breath. Talk about the oppressed being the oppressor. It’s real! All in all, blacks agreeing with this discrimination sounds like they would prevent someone from making a living became of a name, let that sink in.

As for Raven-Symonè, the black community today that is angry were the ones who watch you grow, who grew with you, who has happy you maintained a clean image into adulthood! Black Twitter drenched you with an abundance of love during the Disney nostalgia moments and for you to say you would prevent a fan from making a living because of her name, or say you choose to proudly not sit with us…damn, girl! Do you realize your hairstyles aren’t eligible for hiring either…? Well, The Black Community agrees to gladly let you go. The white community don’t want you either, nor does the Hispanics, so you can sit at the back of the lunchroom with your BomQuisha hair dues as you preferred.

…And now I am going to fierce and use a picture of her looking a fool.