“Others imply that they know what it is like to be depressed because they have gone through a divorce, lost a job, or broken up with someone. But these experiences carry with them feelings. Depression, instead, is flat, hollow, and unendurable. It is also tiresome. People cannot…
I used to think depression was sadness. Until I was sad. And then I knew the difference.
It’s like the LA riots after the first Rodney king verdict. the rioters were mad about the verdict, yes, but also about the general sense of oppression in their communities. The rioted and burned everything, not just police cars. According to what I’m reading about the UK, over half of those arrested were under 18, majority male, overwhelmingly unemployed. You can only kick people down for so long before they explode. The trigger can be anything. And society - that includes everyone - is to blame. I don’t condone businesses being destroyed, property damage, and never lives taken, but I also don’t consider anyone to be “innocent.” When you hold somebody down, you’ve take their life too. We all have to take responsibility for the way our society is organized, especially the racial and class divisions and hierarchies. It’s not just on the government. It’s on all of us.
Instead of writing a post on what I think about Watch the Throne, I’m just gonna post some of my comments that I’ve left on various blogs/sites/etc. You’ll have to gather the context from what I’m saying….
What’s the difference between “simple” misogyny and …what, a more “complex” misogyny?
What is “Black” power if not in a political sense? A broader cultural phenomenon of “power” held by individuals is no longer a sense of collectivism that is even captured by the idea of “race.” To say that Black individuals possessing wealth means something for “Black power” makes little sense, to me. Culturally, Black people have always had power. Our culture has always pervaded American culture. Racial power in inherently political. If this has no political leverage, it can’t be said to be power or powerful.
I’m part of the hip-hop community, but I think we vastly overstate what “the” community has long understood. Certain segments of the community may believe that what is good for me is good for you, but many others believe that you gaining money off of the calling women bitches and hoes, having young girls in your videos, and putting out music that I can’t let my 5 and 4 year old listen to on the radio does more harm to the “community” than the fact that the overall black net worth has increased because you sold a million records.
“See you when you see me” - not really. Because I remember Reasonable Doubt. I remember what you said about me, a black woman, and how you made your money. I see a smart business man, no doubt. But I don’t see me.
A few weekends ago, when the kids had just left for the East Coast, the hubs and I went to a street fair in the neighborhood. There was a chiropractor there, giving out free exams. Or so he said. It…
I’ve been down this road too many times to even recount. When I’m here, it feels morbidly comfortable and I can’t remember what it’s like to not be here. Honestly, I can’t remember anything.
My mind is in a fuzz, like it’s been caught in the briars of the cotton plant. I can’t concentrate; read anything other than the Bible and the words swirl and the meaning is completely lost. My head feels like the heaviest coffee table book, and the only place it feels right is laying on my pillow, in my bed. In fact, the only place I feel right is in my bed. Getting out of it is a chore.
I’m so disappointed in myself. How am I ever going to accomplish anything if I can’t beat this illness? If every time I try to do something, it rears its ugly, nasty head and knocks me back down? All I wanted was another baby. That’s all. Why is that too much?
I tried to come off of the meds, all the way. But I couldn’t. I feel like such an idiot, one for believing it was possible, and two for not being able to do it. It’s a catch-22, you see? I’m sick, I have an illness that’s serious, an illness that could kill me, an illness that almost did and so I know its a formidable enemy. But still - I’m strong, right? I’m smart, right? And getting off the meds is what’s best for my baby, right? But I can’t do it AND I’m still depressed. And for that, I feel like a total failure. #FAIL
And it’s not just this baby that needs me - what about Ahmir and Amina? Why is He not protecting me? Not protecting my baby? Not protecting my children? I’ve been reading Job lately and I understand that this illness is not His doing but He could take it away and I just want to know why He won’t take it from me. What do I have to do? How much do I have to pray? How many times can I surrender before He will hear me?
I know this illness makes me so much more critical of myself than I should be. I know that. But I am so fearful that I will NEVER be okay. That I will NEVER lead the life I want to live. That when I’m a professor, provided I get out of grad school, that this is going to get me again, and how can you not go and teach your classes? That I’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much that it doesn’t matter because I won’t be able to sustain it. That the right conclusion is what’s the point because no matter what I do, I can’t beat it.
It will always win. What am I supposed to do with that?
I saw the chiropractor again today, and we went over my x-rays. I knew my back was jacked upped, but he did tell me things I didn’t know, things outside of the scoliosis. From…
“If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change.”
As big of a Michael Jackson fan I am, I have never written about his death. It shocked me that I…