Living my life as authentically as I can.


I write about what I see, feel, live and you are welcome to share the experience as I share them.

My Lemonade Tastes Like Black Resistance

My Lemonade Tastes Like Black Resistance

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This is the cover art for the album Lemonade by the artist Beyoncé. The cover art copyright is believed to belong to the label, Parkwood and Columbia, or the graphic artist(s).

I tend to seek solace in music. These days I need a lot of solace.

I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry.

I’m tired. So damn tired.

I keep trying to talk it out, write it out, walk it out, fuck it out, yell it out, dance it out, ignore it out…and still it persists. I support charities, offer a haven for friends, seek out information, look for resources and it keeps coming back to this one thing: how do I break up with a country whose entire fortune and government was built on dehumanizing people who look like me?

Black people. African Americans. Negros. People of color. Brown skinned people. Hated people. Not quite people. Different kind of people. Seen as inferior people.

It is through this lens that I currently experience the world. And it is through this lens that I listened to Beyonce's album last week. Instead of hearing an album about the violation of trust by a lover, I heard an album of a woman being violated by her country.

It is a violation I definitely relate to...


Pray You Catch Me

You can taste the dishonesty
It’s all over your breath as you pass it off so cavalier
But even that’s a test
Constantly away of it all
My lonely ear
Pressed against the walls of your world
— Pray You Catch Me, Beyoncé, Lemonade

White lies, white disdain, white tolerance. Every single time a murder, false imprisonment, harassment, every social injustice happens, we hear you. I hear you. I hear the rationales, the moral gymnastics, the bullshit. You dismiss us, our concerns, and don’t care. You encourage the idea that we are less and live it with every breath and think we are too stupid or naïve to realize it. And a part of us wants to ignore it. We want to pretend it doesn’t matter and just live our lives.

Then it happens again. And again. And again. And again. And again.


Hold Up

Something don’t feel right
Because it ain’t right
Especially comin’ up after midnight
I smell your secret, and I’m not too perfect
To ever feel this worthless
How did it come down to this?
Going through your call list
I don’t wanna lose my pride, but I’mma fuck me up a bitch
Know that I kept it sexy, and know I kept it fun
There’s something that I’m missing, maybe my head for one
— Hold Up, Beyoncé, Lemonade

We feel it. We live it. We work with it. Work around it. Fight it. But eventually the degradation, the disrespect becomes too much. We recognize that the source of our pain isn’t internal. It’s external. It’s coming from a source we were taught to trust.

This country is my home. I want to love it. Want to respect it. But I can’t keep being “walked all over lately.” It’s killing me. It's killing us. So what are we going to do?

What can we do?

We get angry.



Don't Hurt Yourself

When you hurt me, you hurt yourself
Don’t hurt yourself
When you diss me, you diss yourself
Don’t hurt yourself
When you hurt me, you hurt yourself
Don’t hurt yourself, don’t hurt yourself
When you love me, you love yourself
Love God herself

I am the dragon breathing fire
Beautiful mane I’m the lion
Beautiful man I know you’re lying
I am not broken, I’m not crying, I’m not crying
You ain’t trying hard enough
You ain’t loving hard enough
You don’t love me deep enough
We not reaching peaks enough
Blindly in love, I fucks with you
’Til I realize, I’m just too much for you
I’m just too much for you
— Don’t Hurt Yourself, Beyoncé, Lemonade

We are the invisible Americans. The Americans who are used, abused, stepped on, manipulated, and erased. You co-op everything from our inventions to our emotions and tell us we ain’t shit. Fuck you for that. You are not good enough for us.

You and your lies are the fucking problem and we don’t need you.

Everything you do to us damages you, America. Every injustice you inflict makes deeper scars on your disingenuous country. We have had to fight you for every fucking thing we have and still you lie and say we’ve done nothing. In the face of brutal terrorism at the hands of your government, we thrive. You have always needed us more than we ever needed you and you are about to realize that.

And then the rage burns out.




Middle fingers up, put them hands high
Wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye
Tell him, boy, bye, boy, bye, middle fingers up
I ain’t thinking ‘bout you
Sorry, I ain’t sorry
Sorry, I ain’t sorry
I ain’t sorry, nigga, nah
I ain’t thinking ‘bout you
Sorry, I ain’t sorry
Sorry, I ain’t sorry
No no, hell nah
— Sorry, Beyoncé, Lemonade

We circle the wagons. We stop worrying about what America thinks. We negotiate ways internally to divest from our bullshit nationalist lover.

We look for places to move, think about leaving this hole forever.

We re-up with community organizations, spawn new leaders, teach the young, move away from what it is to love a country that never loved us back.

We call you on your shit and give no fucks. You aren’t here for us, so we aren’t here for you. Not anymore.



6 Inch

Stars in her eyes
She fights for the power, keeping time
She grinds day and night
She grinds from Monday to Friday
Works from Friday to Sunday
She gon’ slang
She too smart to crave material things
She pushing herself day and night
She grinds from Monday to Friday
Works from Friday to Sunday
— 6 Inch, Beyoncé, Lemonade

We throw ourselves into the struggle. We focus on the new goal, the new hope.

We rally, we fight, we save, we plan.

Everything else? Irrelevant. We need to get some change to make a change. It’s no longer about you; it’s about getting out. Working to get out.

Nonstop. Until everything is numb.



Daddy Lessons

Came into this world
Daddy’s little girl
And daddy made a soldier out of me
Oh, oh, oh
Daddy made me dance
And daddy held my hand
Oh, oh, oh
And daddy liked his whiskey with his tea
And we rode motorcycles
Blackjack, classic vinyl
Tough girl is what I had to be
— Daddy Lessons, Beyoncé, Lemonade

When you are Black in America, you are born a soldier. If you don’t fight for yourself, you lose. If you don’t defend yourself, you lose. If you don’t learn how to live two-faced in a hostile culture that will do everything in its power to undermine you and diminish you, you will wilt and die.

Everything is stacked against you. Your neighborhoods will grow on poisoned earth. Your teachers will have less resources and little empathy. Your accomplishments will be called lies. Your abilities will be deemed magical, not intelligence or talent. Your tools will be ridiculed. Your struggle, ignored. If you are sensitive, you will be viewed as weak and will be abused. There will be no care for you unless you take it and when you take it, you will be branded a troublemaker, a criminal, a victim, or a corpse. You will need to choose which one you will be and how you will fight. At some time, you may be all of those things.

And if you are a Black woman, the patriarchy will do all the same shit to you, except your enemy will look like your daddy. Choose wisely. Fight bravely. Survive.


Love Drought

Ten times out of nine, I know you’re lying
But nine times out of ten, I know you’re trying
So I’m trying to be fair
And you’re trying to be there and to care
And you’re caught up in your permanent emotions
All the loving I’ve been giving goes unnoticed
It’s just floating in the air, lookie there
Are you aware you’re my lifeline, are you tryna kill me?
If I wasn’t me, would you still feel me?
Like on my worst day? Or am I not thirsty, enough?
I don’t care about the lights or the beams
Spend my life in the dark for the sake of you and me
Only way to go is up, skin thick, too tough
— Love Drought, Beyoncé, Lemonade

Ironically, many of us don’t want to leave. This is our home. It’s where our families are. Our friends. Our networks. It is a place that despite its glaring problems is home. There is history here that while having happened in oppression, isn’t about being oppressed.

There is love here despite the hate. As much as we want to say this county is shit, I look at my friends, family, the interesting people I’ve met and I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to lose all this good in my life…and yet this country actively kills my hope. It actively tries to kill my voice. It actively tries to kill the future of people like me.

Can I live in a country I cannot trust or forgive?

Should I?



Dishes smashed on my counter from our last encounter
Pictures snatched out the frame
Bitch, I scratched out your name and your face
What is it about you that I can’t erase, baby?
When every promise don’t work out that way, no no, babe
When every promise don’t work out that way
And your heart is broken cause I walked away
Show me your scars and I won’t walk away
And I know I promised that I couldn’t stay, baby
— Sandcastles, Beyoncé, Lemonade

My anger, my rage, my pain, my sorrow, my joy, my hope…none of it is static. I build it and something washes it away.

My rage can dissipate at a hug from my husband. My joy can die at the hands of the media.

My sorrow builds and builds and builds, but I have enough love in my life that it weakens my resolve and I sit in the wet sand, sculpting another masterpiece called hope with the full knowledge that another wave is coming to wash it away.

Does America have it in itself to be honest? Can this country admit and work to change its wrongdoings? Its policies? Its “law and order” that functions as a militarized mafia?

I should leave. This place is toxic to me. But I don’t want to leave. And I don’t want to stay, but there are so many wonderful things I’d have to give up…I don’t want to go.

I don’t want to go.



Best foot first just in case
When we made our way ‘til now
It’s time to listen, it’s time to fight
Now we’re going to hold doors open for a while
Now we can be open for a while
— Forward, Beyoncé, Lemonade

If I stay, I commit to the fight.

Should I stay, I decide my terms.

The rage work was not in vain. I carved my path, showed me the way.

It gave me community. Showed me I wasn't alone. It helped build my agenda and now I know I don't have to do it alone.



Freedom! Freedom! I can’t move
Freedom, cut me loose!
Freedom! Freedom! Where are you?
Cause I need freedom too!
I break chains all by myself
Won’t let my freedom rot in hell
Hey! I’ma keep running
Cause a winner don’t quit on themselves
— Freedom, Beyoncé, Lemonade

And so we fight. You will hear us because we will make you hear us. You will see us because we will make you see us. We are here. This is our country. We are a part of America and will not be silenced or restrained anymore. We will be heard.

Your anti-Black rhetoric will be destroyed. It will be quelled. Those who deny our humanity will be outed, ostracized, and marginalized. Human rights are for everyone except those who will not share  them.

Justice is coming. Its song is spreading like fire and will burn down the houses of oppression. Burn them to the ground. This nation will change. It will either openly own its racism and oppression or it will kill everyone who fights it.

And they’ve tried, over and over and over.

Harry and Harriett Moore, James Chaney, Medgar Evans, Malcolm X, Rev. George W. Lee, Addie May Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, Cynthia Wesley, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Bobby Hutton, Fred Hampton. This fight has martyred many.

But we keep fighting. Keep making strides. Black women and men throughout history have not stopped. We will not be stopped.


All Night

Found the truth beneath your lies
And true love never has to hide
True love never has to hide
I’ll trade your broken wings for mine
Trade your broken wings for mine
I’ve seen your scars and kissed your crime
Seen your scars and kissed your crime
— All Night, Beyoncé, Lemonade

There is no trust between us now but we hope. The truth hides and with it is our love for this country and its people. But we hope.

I hope.

I want this love. This patriotic love. I want a country I can be proud to love. I want this country to heal. But we're not ready. Not yet. America’s denial runs too deep, its lies still too prevalent, and its power still too corrupt. White America will not see itself and until it does, there are no scars, just wounds flowing with the blood of the oppressed and the tears of its victims.

Will white America release its pride? Will they admit its faults and work to repair them? Or will they continue the lies and the violence used to hide them, breeding hate like pus, poisoning the blood of this nation. As the world’s transparency grows, so does America's rot. Tell me, white America, when will you own your truth?

I doubt it will happen during my lifetime. But I endure. We endure. 

We fight. We bleed. We burn. We die.

And our survivors continue the war.



Sometimes I go off (I go off), I go hard (I go hard)
Get what’s mine (take what’s mine), I’m a star (I’m a star)
Cause I slay (slay), I slay (hey), I slay (okay), I slay (okay)
All day (okay), I slay (okay), I slay (okay), I slay (okay)
— Formation, Beyoncé, Lemonade

I am a soldier in the war for myself, my people. I fight for me and I fight for them.

I am an unapologetic Black woman.

I am angry Black woman.

I am a strong Black woman.

A vulnerable



Complicated Black woman.

I Live. I Love. I Fight. I Cry. I Break. I Heal. I Strive. I Achieve. I Succeed. 

I throw dirt in the eyes of those who would hide me.

I love myself with pride.

I dare to be free.

Pre SDCC Ramblings

Pre SDCC Ramblings

Loving the Chaos That is Me

Loving the Chaos That is Me