Model Minority (bull shit)

They come at me like,

“Oh you know how it’s like for them!”

“You mean how it’s like for us?”

They forget just cuz you put me in a separate category,

You, being divisive, compartmentalizing struggle,

And saying, “cuz we all struggle in life,

But I yell BS

Slap the cards down,

Let’s all show our cards,

But you separate,


Cuz you’re scared that if we compare notes,

Our experiences,

We’d know what you’ve been doing to us this whole time?


You’re fallacy is presuming we aren’t all more intelligent

Than the ghettos you create.

Sending monsters

Hood to hood?

But only you’re the ones wearing hoods

Disguised in euphemisms,

That only create division,

Cuz how do you keep you’re lies

If everyone speak the same language,

But you.

Letter s to Murakami on Crete

Dear murakami,

I’ve searched for a way to reach out to you with no solid lead.

I read your books and find the uncanny similarities with some of your characters to my own existence quite unnerving.

There were moments in “wind up bird chronicles” I’ve literally had to put the book down because Crete Kano shares the exact story as me. It put me in a mood.

In 1999 I sat in my black civic at a red light. I decided that I’d kill myself by driving straight into a wall of an abandoned insane asylum. The irony Right? I don’t feel physical pain. It’s enough to drive a person mad and yet I felt a spiritual numbness that hurt.

I told myself as soon as the red light flicked to green, I’d gun it right into the empty sanitarium. I was romantic.

I sat there crying and ready to heroically smash into my ending.

The light stayed red so long. In my memory, it felt like 10 minutes, but who can really say because I was alone.

I stopped crying and laughed so loud. The light wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t stop laughing because, god would stop me. The urge left me and the light turned green. That was my first experience with ego death.

So forward 20 years later and I have two beautiful boys and met my soulmate, yes my actual soulmate.

I pick up “windup bird chronicles” and read lying in bed with my soulmate. I meet Creta and am at a lost as to how my old self followed me to my own happiness. So she crept up on me, and in her own right , completely free. She reminded me of the numbness. All the while , listening to Duke Ellington, wondering if you switched the green light, knowing I wouldn’t go through with it, but she did. And nothing happened except she could feel again. I could feel again.

And she did it with an mr2, the one car I wanted at the time. I just wanted to write you to ask, “did the same angel who whisper in my ear, ask you to write the story?”

I hope one day you can tell me who told you Crete’s story. I have more from other stories you wrote. But I’ll save that for another time.

Quite intriguingly yours,


“Mommy, am I a black person?”“Why do you ask that?” I’m amazed at the sweetness and sincerity he’s asking me.“I want to be a black person because I don’t want to be a white person if they are bad.”“Baby, do you understand what that means? Do you understand the difference between a black person and a white person?”He shakes his head no.“Aww baby people are good and bad by their actions. Being white doesn’t make a person bad,”“And being black doesn’t mean you can’t be bad too?”“Yes baby, we can be all those things by how we act and treat others.Come here, let’s go have this conversation with Smores.”We walk over to the bedroom and I ask Clarence to ask Mars what he thinks.“Smores, am I a black person?”And I catch him up on our dialogue. We both look at one another with smiling and knowing the wisdom of this question.“Clary, well you are an Asian person, mommy is an Asian person, I’m a black person, your sub is a white person but we are all people.”“So my sub is a good person too…”“Yes Clary, we are all good people if we are kind and nice to each other,”Mars explains to him, “we are all human.”“Do you understand the difference of why you are Asian and Smores black and your teacher white?”He looks at me bright eyed, then shakes his head no.I look again at Smores and we are both in awe.“It just means where our ancestors, parents And grand parents come from, like Korea, or Africa, but we are also here in America.”But I love the fact that he doesn’t see race, and I look as his eyes grow heavy and he falls asleep just like that.Mars says, “I’ve seen Clarence just like this since the first day I met him and he said to me, ‘I like you,’ as he touched my face and looked at me big eyed and genuine. He just approached me and knew I was receiving him with love, but I knew he was special that he just came up to me when he just met me. He just feels the good energy.”I’m joyful. “honestly, I love that he doesn’t see race. He just sees we are all different shades of human. I want to just let him stay this pure a little longer.”“This is what I’ve always said. Racism is taught.”Mars and I have been quoting Clarence’s words from a couple weeks ago in our daily talks and jests.We were all sitting in the bedroom, each watching our own shows one evening and sharing what we found funny. Elijah and Mars next to him and I, myself, half dangling off the the bed with my head hanging to be near them sitting on the rug.Clarence just starts laughing out loud saying with amusement, “it’s kind of funny, but we all kind of look alike.” He laughs again so amused at his own epiphany, “But me and Smores, we look exactly alike.” He squeals with laughter at the revelation as Mars, Elijah, and I look at one another than start cracking up because it’s so real, and Mars exclaims laughing so happily, “Yes Clary, but me and you, we look EXACTLY alike!” And we all continue to laugh as I am bursting from heart to toe. “Yes Clarence!” I shout, “we do all kind of look alike, but you and Smores, you guys look Exactly alike.!”

R. I. $. 3.

I’ve been watching things grow,

My babies are growing,

My plants are growing,

My life dharma is growing,

I feel it too,

My purpose is growing,

Sometimes my fears are growing too,

Because I have grown treasures,

And a repeated first time,

I don’t want to lose them.

My hair is growing,

My patience is growing,

Sometimes people see my patience and think it’s easy,

But my child, she’s screaming at me,

Wondering if I know what I’m doing,

And I tell her,

I’ll be ok.

I have scrapes and bruises all over me,

But I can squeeze limes,

Because that’s what my loves will like,

And my heart smiles.

My love is growing,

I can hush a child,

Until she hears her own breathing.

My trust is growing,

I can see ashes raining down,

And see the sunlight and red skies,

And see its beauty,

Even though it’s heavy,

And it’s dark.

I can hear my brothers and sisters crying,

And sit still,

With a vodka and lime,

And feel it will be peace again,

Because I know,

This too shall pass…

The scabs owill dry,

No matter how early I pick em..

But my purpose won’t,

His purpose won’t,

Her purpose won’t,

This is the design we could never have created with our own demise…

And so I know we shall rise,

And rise

And rise,

And r i s e ,

And r. I. S. 3.

Allegory of the Cave

I’ve been thinking a lot of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave recently.
Imagine prisoners tide up side by side in darkness placed in front of a blank stone wall. The prisoners can turn their heads nor move so that they can’t see one another. Behind them there is a fire and the captors have people walking in front of the fire with puppets so that it casts a shadow upon the wall the prisoners stare at. Any sounds and talk, these prisoners believe come from the shadows in the wall. This is the reality they live in and they have no knowledge of people or the captors behind them.
One day they are set free and have to crawl through a narrow tunnel to an opening into the outer world. When first reaching the outside they see the light of the sun and it’s blaring and painful because they’ve only known darkness their whole life. It hurts their eyes and burn their skin, so they retreat back into the comfort of their darkness into the only reality they’ve known their whole life, not understanding it’s been an illusion.
However a few realize there is something more outside and decide to go back into the light. Over time their eyes adjust and the sun feels good. They realize in that moment that the shadows they thought were real were only replications of what is real under the sun while some stay in the darkness, those who go outside can finally live free.
What I believe is the reality can hurt when you live in the comfort of illusion for so long, but eventually the light of reality is the only way to live a life beautiful and free.

allegoryofthecave #plato #reality #illusions #freedom #justiceforahmaudarbery

Sheets are Off

Sheets are off!
Sheets are off!
He’s drawn a bloody line,
Clear and stark
The white cloaks are off,
The cloaks are off!
The inhuman smirk
With their knee,
Holding black men down,
Holding black boys down,
Holding black women down,
Snuffing out their life,
Not once,
But since the beginning
On stolen land,
Built by stolen labor,
By the flesh and blood of men, women
And it’s never stopped.
But we see you!
And When the boogie man takes off his mask,
He is nothing but a weak man!

Black is Real

My man is beautiful,

He is the most intelligent man I’ve ever met,

The most compassionate man I’ve ever shared conversation with,

The most I’ve ever loved anyone.

I see him for the love I see reflected in his eyes,

I see him for the human he is,

I see him every morning and every night for the man I’m so deeply in love with,

That if he was hurt, I would feel that same pain.

When I look at his hand wrapped around mine, it’s pure love,

And this is our reality,

But when we are out together, driving,

And a cop pulls behind us,

Next to us,

Stares into our peace,

I see his blackness, and what that might mean to someone else.


Dear man In blue,

You are there to Protect and to Serve,

To uphold the law and dignity of humanity,

But who will protect us from you and

Your ignorance,

Your discrimination,

Your hate,

Your fear?

Who will protect the innocent,

If you, who put on the hero’s cape

Are the murderers

Against our lovers,


Brothers and sisters.

How do we continue

To abide by peacefully,

While our mothers cry for their murdered sons,

Their children cry because they have to grow up without their fathers,

How much more do you except us to dry up and lick our sore wounds quietly,

While you murder our innocent

And go home to eat your steak and potatoes?

What is left for us to do,

But explode!