Proverbial Pill Poppin...

Ernie hasn’t seen The Matrix, and I take issue to that, with extreme prejudice. This shouldn’t surprise me, but c’mon! The Matrix?! I still remember walking back from Westwood with my hommies talking about what we had just seen. We were all Neo, stopping the imaginary bullets in our path, on our way up the hill.

I can’t with him, but I will. Don’t judge how we love/hate/whatever it is we do.

Why do I bring this up? Because I ASKED Y’ALL to close and lock up Iyanla’s house but noooooooo, yall just wanna leave it all open and what not, and all this stuff keeps pouring out of me. Thanks -_- so much.

But my man Morpheus was slanging those pills:

You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Image from dawgonnit.com (April 2018)

I would have done just as Neo, even with Morpheus cautioning that all he was offering was truth, because I don’t want to believe that fat meat comes with grease.

Now I know ALL THESE THINGS. And when you know all these things you have to make some hard choices. You know, be all moral and whatnot. I haven’t watched a professional football game in two NFL seasons. I barely know who plays on what team these days. I quit Chik-Fil-A knowing damn well how much I LIVED for those waffle fries and nuggets. I don’t listen to those dudes from Chicago who make music because, well, do I have to explain? I do my best to not assume one’s gender or pronouns forcing myself to go against my male/female/boy/girl nature – I struggle with this so much, but I would rather struggle with it, than oppress someone with my cis-gender privilege. *queues up Truth Hurts album because there isn’t a song on the album entitled Truth Hurts so we just gotta listen to the album and let the truth hurt our feelings*

My friend asked me about my professional football protesting, in the wake of the settlement agreement between the NFL and my man Kap. What happens now? I mean, they came to some resolution, so the protest is over, right? Well… That would be right, if I was protesting the NFL because of what they did to Kap and he was welcomed back to the league, then yeah, it worked. Let’s watch. But remember that red pill I took? What the NFL has done to Colin Kaepernick is absolutely disgusting, settled or not. But when I went down this rabbit hole, there were all these other issues that came up. Something is wrong with the NFL and I know that now. I cannot un-know it. I cannot watch it.

I was in Lolli & Pops with Jigs buying bougie boozy gummy bears. In my going back and forth with her, I made statements assuming the gender of the employee assisting us with our purchase. Seeing that I don’t whisper too good, this individual could have clearly overheard my assigning of their gender. We completed our purchase and walked out of the store. At the entrance, I realized what I had just done, and made an immediate about face to apologize to the individual. After the apology I confessed, I know better, I need to do better, and left. (Why am I like this?)

I understand Cypher better and his reasons for betraying the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar. I am not sure which burden is heavier: knowing the truth or having to tell it to someone. Regardless of the weight, ignorance sounds pretty blissful these days. I loved my life as a football fan and I know I can never have that life again. I’m so awkward asking someone their preferred pronouns, not because of them or any other outside influence – it just feels weird to me because I'm hardwired to Male/Female, which permeates my asking. I can’t listen to any of ole’boy’s albums following The College Dropout because although he’s cancelled, I cannot be asked to give up ALL THE THINGS – it’s just too hard, Lord. Haven’t I been through enough??

…and much like Cypher, I am lamenting my proverbial pill popping choices too. I have yet to get to the bottom of the rabbit hole.

It. Is. Finished. #ISaidWhatISaid #NoKapNoNFL

Had I known that Superbowl LI (51) was going to be the last football game I watched, I would have spent the day watching that (because, superbowl party) and  also replaying the Cowboys win over the 40-whiners at Levi Stadium. I was in the stands that day, in the sea of blue fans making waves over the red and gold. Because, America’s Team. I would have enjoyed that game in HD. I would have also really enjoyed seeing Colin Kaepernick kneel in HD too. Because poetic justice is more than just a movie.

I survived an entire football season, without watching a single game. I know that there are those of you who probably believe I capitalized on those “accidental” views. You know, walking into a restaurant, and looking towards the bar seeing the game on. Visiting a friend on football day (basically, Sunday – Monday – Thursday), as they are glued to the surround sound and replays. Watching some of my favorite sports shows (Highly Questionable, Around the Horn, Pardon the Interruption) and getting that itch to just click over to the game, just for a few minutes, because I just want to confirm who I agree with, even though I usually agree with Bomani anyway. But, confirmation.

None of it. I did not exploit not one of those instances or any others. I actually walked right out of some of the restaurants and friend’s homes. I said what I said. No Kap. No NFL. Nope. 

My life was football from August to January. Sure football went into February, but by January, I was winding down and accepting that I would have to wait another six months to live again. I had to accept some ugly truths (also a movie) about myself:

1. Football is my only hobby from August to January. Sure, I do things, but it’s scheduled around football season. And, if I have something planned with you and someone invites me to something football related, I may or may not remember to inform you that I am no longer coming. You’re probably texting me asking if I am on the way as I’m raising a glass of beer that NaShaun/KRD is nowhere to finish – so I’m texting him/them about the beer. Not you.  

2. I’m super sociable because I can open conversations with football. Did you see the game? Are you going to the game? Who did you put into the game #FantasyFootball? Without football, I have nothing to contribute to a conversation. What is there to talk about in the world besides football?  

3. People who go to Superbowl Parties just for the food, ‘fun’, and commercials are awful people. It’s like bringing a bottle of wine to a baby shower and all the other attendees are pregnant. Like, why are you even here? Nobody is interested in what you have (well, interested maybe) but that’s not what this party is all about. The most interesting thing here is the game, not why you don’t watch football. Who sent you?

I have loved football my whole life, just like the Pearson kids. It was Daddie’s thing that became my thing, then this beautiful thing we shared. We could sit for hours watching games. Then watching commentators talk about the games. And critiquing everything because we know more than every NFL referee, ever. Without ever being trained, we are literally always right.

I didn’t wear a single NFL related shirt in my collection. Even packed away the Cowboy earbuds from Alicia MaKeykey – a surprise birthday present from an admitted Giants fan. I will never understand how we make it work. Hell, we talked trash this football season and I hadn’t watched a single game. I kept the Cowboy flip flops in the rotation because I refuse to protest comfort, they were a gift from my Naija sister-friend, and this pedicure is gonna get these stars because Lord knows I need it. All the rest of it though, new shirts from the Dallas Pro Shop and a never worn necklace, all of it packed away in a plastic tub, in the closet.

I had to dig into the back of the closet for this Superbowl weekend, because some friends have 2 – for – 1 events that include birthday parties. As much as I knew I would actively avoid the game, I didn’t want to be a complete distraction. I wanted to be able to hide in plain sight, like the Assassins. For people to be able to say they saw me, when in reality, I had been in a corner with my purple journal and green pen, writing to save my life.

When I got dressed though, I forgot I even had it packed. I wore an army green “Nah.” shirt, a present day interpretation of Rosa Park’s fateful protest because she was sick of Jim Crow’s sh!t. Without intentionally trying, I stood out like a sore thumb. Are you watching the game? Nah. I haven’t watched any football this season. Before I even realized what I was saying, I was saying it with my chest. I will refresh your drink. Help you use this bougie ass refrigerator in Pop’s house. I will wash these dishes because I don’t want to do it later. And, I’m gonna be one of those awful people who come to Superbowl parties for the birthday and the commercials. Then I am going to go upstairs, because heeeyyyy, First Wives Club is on! Why do I love this movie? I don’t know why, but I do.

A friend told me that she was proud and inspired that I was able to ‘fast from football’ as I did. She did not know anyone in her life who loved football as much as I, that was able to completely give it up. And all the other things. I didn’t just fast from football, I fasted from football related things. All of my sports shows. Many of the Happy Hour places, where everybody knew I wasn’t gonna drink all of the beer. My schedule, no matter how busy work made me, I never missed an appointment.

Sunday – Jesus & Football, all day.

Monday – Happy Hour and MNF.

Tuesday – Sports Shows and Fantasy Football.

Wednesday – Sports Shows and Fantasy Football.

Thursday – Happy Hour and TNF.

Friday – College Football.

Saturday – College Football.

…because there is enough football to do it every day. But when you have a strong moral code like mine (she says) you will fill your days with other things than, let’s say, our morally ambiguous friend (most Giants fans totes are) at the table that night. Then she asked the question that everyone is asking us protesters, are you going to watch next season? What if Kaepernick gets a job in the NFL? Are you waiting for that?

kaepernick7.com/million-dollar-pledge/

Answer: It’s past whether or not Kaepernick gets a job. He did what he was supposed to do. He made us think about the state of the football union and decide for ourselves, just like he will decide for himself. Football seems to be the thing Kaepernick is passionate about. Just like my being petty. If he wants to play football and goes back, I hope he makes it to Canton one day. I will definitely watch that Hall of Fame speech.

For me and my house? (this is still just me) I don’t know. I still have my football allies and antagonists. I am a Cowboy fan because I am from the republic of Texas and am fiercely loyal, but not loyal enough to side with Jerry Jones. He has race issues he needs checked. I am glad that the Patriots lost, but I am not happy that the Eagles won. And dammit, why did the Giants have to make that dirty dancing commercial? Now I can’t have the time of my life anymore. See how they ruin everything?!?! The NFC East is just too big a burden to carry, saints.

The problem? There is no untelling (that’s a book). I have sight beyond sight now (that’s a cartoon). Whether or not Kaepernick makes his mark in the NFL, I have planted my knee in the gridiron already. Like I said before, I always knew the NFL was problematic. I mean, even if you didn’t know, you have to wonder why there are so many Cowboy fans for summa'yall to hate all over the world? Sure, there are bandwagons, but it’s more than that. If you dig deep into the intersections of race and professional athletics, you’ll find the Dodgers there and a whole host of other skeletons too. The NFL is not going to change.

I changed though. Literally took six months to do it, but the job is done. I just wish that damn Patriots vs. Falcons game wasn’t my last view of something I loved so much. All of the amazing games I have seen in my lifetime, and I am left with “Eh…”

But that’s the way of those things we loved so much, isn’t it? We knowth not the day, or the time. We aren’t ready. But we figure it out eventually.

Seeing that people are talking about a baseball strike, my strong moral code is shaky. Life is still asking too much of me. If I have to one day give up basketball, make sure my room in Arkham is padded.

Please.

...where I firmly plant my feet. #AtADrumpfRally

I went to a drumpf rally. You’re mostly not surprised by this because well, you probably follow me on some kind of social media, so you already know. You were witness to my posts.

Had I returned from another trip courtesy of Delta – Don’t Give A Damn About My Life Or Schedule – Airlines, and told you, Hey, while I was in Chicago, I went to a donald drumpf rally, you would have replied, Bish, whet?…because, that’s the accurate and most appropriate response.

Before he became this thing we warn our children about at night while they say their prayers, he was never someone of interest to me. I mean, like never. Like, when people talk about ridiculously rich people I think about the Chinese Government, Wine Salesmen, and natural resources from Africa. I never think about that dude. Because, like, why?

Anyway, my only friend in Chicago told me that he was going to the drumpf rally. And I really wanted to see that friend, so one Evenbrite *that nobody checked at the entrance later* I was there – without him because he hadn’t made it to the venue yet and I was only a mile away.

Walking up to the UIC Pavilion was the easy part. The sun was still out. Traffic was moving normally – for what I assume about downtown Chicago. And for the most part, the fact that one of the vilest creatures that Hell ever made was planning to incite the worst in the poorly educated on a college campus, was just a couple hours away – people seemed okay. In good spirits. Selling their wares without dispute. Taking line selfies.

It was only then I realized I was there. At a drumpf rally. All. By. Myself.

The last time I was this scared I got a call about my Daddie being in the hospital. I felt real, palpable fear for my existence. I never want to know that again.

I tucked my fear way and conjured up some #BlackGirlMagic. Which was timely because a group of black girls (undergraduates from UIC) were in line. We made eye contact. I smiled. One approached and inquired *very* hesitantly, Are you a drumpf supporter? To which I casually responded, Hell to every naw, individually and collectively.

I was a lone wolf no longer. I had a pack. And my pack was the ish, bro. The. Ish. As we made our way through the lines, one young lady commented, Like how is my tuition paying for a building that this man is speaking in? Not only just my tuition, but my city too. #QuestionsThatNeedAnswers

Another stopped at a table of drumpf paraphernalia and curiously asked, So, what does ‘Make-America-Great-Again’ mean? Of course, of all the inquiries, no intelligible answer was given. Each time though, she engaged, listened without interruption, and invited discourse. Each time though, she left without a clear understanding of this ‘greatness’ drumpf is purporting to provide should he win. Unless that “bomb the hell out of ISIS” button was what he meant. *shrugs*

Entering was easy. Too easy. Easy like, I had a ticket, but not a soul who works there knows it – because nobody asked to see it. Not the event staff. Not the police. Not even the Secret Service dude that felt me up. I swear that look in his eye before I approached was like, Yeah, you next…gimme dat @$$... There is no feeling like the victimization that plays in your mind, knowing that some version of it is about to happen, and really, there is nothing you can do about it to change it. I was hella nervous. It wasn’t so much that he violated my lady parts (he didn’t), but the idea that the purpose for his gloved hands touching me is for the protection of the spawn of anti-christ. That somehow, the person that’s speaking here today is so important, so worthy of protection, that there might be something wrong with me, so I must be checked.

Who checks him? Who protects me from him? What damage can I do with a bag of snacks?

These beautiful black children (after throwing shade about my snacks) led me to the floor. You know, the place, where people gather around a stage, where the person on the program speaks. Orange wristbands and watchful eyes, we joined the crowd. In the eye of the storm. At the furthest point away from every exit. In a sea of hate. Drowning.

…and like their shade suggested, I went into Mom-Mode. Because this is war, and my babies are going to make it out alive. Look at all the hateful faces at our blackness. Like they legitimately were ready to pop off on us on site. Waiting for someone to do something so they can act up…like…when one of the kids attempted to join the rest of the wolfpack and navigate the crowd. Apparently, she “pushed” someone because people who are super close to each other in a crowd have sooooo much space to get around the people in said crowd.

I told her that she needed to step back next to me and wait. That her presence and attempt to join the melanin in the middle of the group would enrage the people around her and that would not be the best thing to do right now.

...my people though. #AboutThatLife #MakingMoralDecisions

She hung her once bright head, looking at me, and said, I wish my presence didn’t incite such anger. I wish I didn’t have to stand here.

I’m never having kids. Ever. Like what are you parents telling your children? I need answers! Because I sure as ish didn’t know what to say to her. How do I help her in her righteous social action and save her life at the same damn time? Those people were just waiting, impatiently, for one of them to say something, do something, hell, be more themselves so they could get it started. I had nothing for her.

Enter deep, dark, depression.

More people began to filter in. Our safety continued to decrease. Mostly because we got separated. Between the reporters, crazed costumed drumpf’ers, and speckles of blackness, I lost my pack. I took a seat in the stands. I figured I would watch it all happen, position myself to record as much as possible, and safely wait for my friend because this was his idea in the first darn place!

Drumpf supporters are poorly worded sound bites of hatred. Nothing was coherent about their cheers or their conversations with each other. Make Healthcare Great Again! Ma’am, did you know that most people with preexisting health conditions could not get health coverage prior to the Affordable Health Care Act? Was there something else that was great about healthcare? Because that part, all by itself, is really shitty.

No response.

*man standing silently before the speech (that didn’t happen) was supposed to start* He stood in the stands, off from the stage, holding a torn drumpf sign in his hands. Being unapologetically black and living with Melissa Harris Perry in that f**kless space where we all aspire to rent or own homes. #MyAgentIsLookingForADuplexAsWeBlog

Get him out of here! He’s causing a disruption! Look at him! He’s trash!!!

But what did he say to you?

*crickets* then make america great again cheers.

What did I learn?

Some of us don't love us too.

♫♪ my country, tis of thee, hates the ish outta me ♪♫ There just isn’t anything else to it. I am convinced. I am now more persuaded than I have ever been, that it is indeed the best in us, the magic in us black folks that have caused this – no our worst. The brutalization of people because they think differently at a political rally is contrary to the amendments those folks proudly stand for – but somehow I’m an okay exception? There were people there who really would not have given a broken, beat up, and busted f*ck if I had made it home alive. Like, how is it possible to share a national identity with people like that?

Why in the hell am I spending my time developing your children, when you don’t even extend to me the common courtesy of an excuse me?

Why, as tax payers, as citizens, as Americans (which wasn’t by choice, but, well, amurikkka), do we allow this to happen? It’s often the disposition that this is politics and we must conform to its structure. But if it’s meant to serve me and it doesn’t, why in the world and I conforming to it? We should have taken some Miss Sophia like advice and burned that building down #WorryAboutHeavenLater. But we did the next best thing. #ShutItDown

I don’t work for politicians. Politicians work for me. And it’s high time I put them to work. Or drag them like Congressman Matt Cartwright did the governor of Michigan. This is absurd in the most asinine ways. Jelani Cobb  said, which I believe in my entire being, from ovaries to overbite, that free speech stops being free at the moment it limits my freedom:

These are not abstractions. And this is where the arguments about the freedom of speech become most tone deaf. The freedom to offend the powerful is not equivalent to the freedom to bully the relatively disempowered. The enlightenment principles that undergird free speech also prescribed that the natural limits of one’s liberty lie at the precise point at which it begins to impose upon the liberty of another. #JelaniCobb

Who is defending that? Who is hell bent on bombing the ish out of people who intrude on my liberty? Where is the button for that?

I had a conversation with a friend about that young woman’s first line of questioning. About why colleges and universities hosts events like this. Events we know are counterintuitive to the mission, vision, and strategic goals of our institutions. I mean, where, like WHERE is anything drumpf says located in our institutional documents? He wants to deport undocumented persons. Our schools PROVIDE SERVICES for undocumented students. Sure though, politics, policy, pretending to adhere to some protocol that cannot be changed, right? #UselessPandering

Heavy the head that knows where the University President’s Office key is located. Because I imagine if it were me, I probably would have had an answer for that beautiful black girl. Your tuition dollars aren’t funding this. Because it ain’t happening here. Swerve, drumpf. Swerve.

His speech ain’t free. It damages the very fabric of everything all of these people at the rally claim they believe. Though at the time the Constitution was written, it wasn’t completely for me, some revisions have been made. There are protections in there for the 1^st 3/5ths of me and the other 2/5ths. And he’s not defending it. He’s damaging it. And when we host him, we defend him.

We all come to a hill that we die on. This is mine. It's not just mine either. It should be yours. If John Oliver or his chrome extension doesn't convince you, I am not sure there is an argument anyone could make.

Nothing was free about this. We all paid a price in Chicago.

Our Humanity.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone posted something the other day about black people attending drumpf rallies. Something to the effect of, for, why? Like, nobody wants you there…so what’s the purpose of attending?

Uh, duh.

Here is a list of all the places I wouldn’t go because people didn’t want me there:

          1. Almost every damn where I’ve ever been. In life. Ever.

Bye. Miss me with that fake righteousness. You don’t get to take the decision from me. If I want to witness the present day incarnation of the violence my ancestors experienced so that I might have a choice, and disrupt it by making them uncomfortable then – present and accounted for. My time at UCLA helped me practice being in exactly the spaces you think I shouldn’t be in because, eff you.

Enter – drumpf rally.

Just like I don’t deserve God’s grace and I get it anyway, I don’t deserve the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune I received in that Pavilion – but I made people real anxious and will post pictures on facebook because, Shaun King will find you. #HeIsConnectedLikeTheNSA #OnlyBetter

I’m so disheartened by all of this. So very sad. Was this the better that was promised to me? Why is everyone so unwilling to do something about this man? We’ve clearly went way too far. Why won’t we just stop it? Why are we okay with this kind of hate?

What drumpf is doing to the american people is monstrous.

And the monsters are showing up. 

We are becoming them. 

All of us.