tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-192151662024-03-07T03:05:17.814-05:00AfroerotiKFrom the rhythmic tale of the sagacious griot, weaving colorful, hushed recollections of slaves whose love endured the horrors of dehumanizing captivity, to the Harlem Renaissance with its unapologetic yet poetic examination of those mysterious elements that made our natures rise, to the soul-stirring harmonies of R&B that have been the soundtrack to seduction for decades, African Americans have always had a long tradition of erotic expression. AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.comBlogger824125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-4274679414115290812023-09-29T19:02:00.003-04:002023-09-29T19:02:53.702-04:00 To The Family,<p><br /></p><p>I don’t know how else to identify you, I don’t know if you are the ultimate ones pulling the strings, but I’m addressing those of you who are in control. Camilla and Charles, Trump, Zuckerberg, MindGeek, CERN, NASA, Bill Gates, CIA, Bilderberg, Rockefellers, Reverse Scottie, those above you, the ones in charge. Whomever the fuck you are. All y’all mother fuckers. You know who you are. I don’t need to know your names. You know mine. I’m not writing this as a story. I’m directly addressing you.</p><p><br /></p><p>My name is Scottie Lowe and you have stolen my divine, cosmic, spiritual inheritance.</p><p><br /></p><p>I’m facing my fears.</p><p><br /></p><p>I’m addressing my limiting beliefs.</p><p><br /></p><p>I’m breaking the spell you have, not only on me, but on this dimension, reality, this plane, whatever the fuck it’s called. You already know my level of understanding. I don’t need to clarify it here. I am Sophia, Lucy, Mary, Isis; I don’t know all the names but I know that I am the Original Intelligence.</p><p><br /></p><p>I understand that you have changed up language to mean something different than what I mean as some sort of attempt to keep me enslaved. Well, I’m not interested in learning whatever secret codes you have in order to communicate with you. That’s because I think it’s stupid to change language for your benefit to keep people enslaved. It shows how inferior you really are. I understand fully that whatever I say about you is supposed to be reflected back to me. Again, dumb. If you need different rules and to change the meanings of words in order to trick me, if you need magick to control me, and you don’t want me to have the same powers and access that you have, you’ve lost the game. You forfeit because you are cheating.</p><p><br /></p><p>You understand my intention. You understand my meaning.</p><p><br /></p><p>Hear me clearly.</p><p><br /></p><p>I have no conscious fear of you. I have no conscious fear of death. Whatever fears I have are those you have programmed into me, you have cast your spells, you have manipulated the events in my life to fuck with my energy and my frequency to keep me in fear. You’ve done a shitty job. You’ve failed. I know who I am. I have no fear of the magnitude of what lies before me. I know my destiny.</p><p><br /></p><p>We are at a crossroads. I’m unwilling to go back into the Matrix. I will never ever go back to working on the corporate plantation. I’m not conforming to the lies you’ve told. I’m not a victim of the brainwashing you have used to convince me to sleep with people randomly, that sex is casual and recreational and has no meaning, or that sex is sinful and bad. I’m not interested in chasing likes, shares, or subscribes. I’m not a Real Housewife, weave-wearing caricature. I will not disrespect Black men. I do not look down on poor Black people. I have empathy for white people. I am omniamorous and I intend to share that power with the world.</p><p><br /></p><p>You time is up. Now and forever.</p><p><br /></p><p>I demand that you return my powers to me. I demand that you return my wealth to me. I demand the immediate and complete cessation of any harmful, oppressive, manipulative tactics, tools, and programs to control, enslave, and deny human beings our rights. Your experiment is over.</p><p><br /></p><p>I demand that Jesse L. Martin and I be restored to our place on the throne.</p><p><br /></p><p>Every breath I’ve taken, every step I’ve made in this life, in this role, in this character has been to bring you down. I’ve not made any mistakes. I’ve not erred or fallen. My integrity has remained stellar my entire life. You’ve tried to beat me into submission by using rape, abuse, poverty, heartbreak and a whole host of rejections and I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to restore justice, unity, peace, love, understanding, cooperation, beauty, truth, joy, pleasure, and all the things that WE, the people, understand to be good in life.</p><p><br /></p><p>You understand so much more than I do in terms of the systems you have in place to keep us enslaved. I understand enough to know that I am not your slave. I am your master. I am your Queen. I am your Goddess. Jesse is not my handservant, he is my partner, he is my equal. We are one and the same. I trust him implicitly to negotiate the terms and conditions of the peaceful transition of power on my behalf.</p><p><br /></p><p>I expect a period of truth and reconciliation.</p><p><br /></p><p>I expect a period of growth, healing, learning and celebration.</p><p><br /></p><p>I expect ALL melanated women to be restored with a connection to their divinity and immediate financial restitution.</p><p><br /></p><p>I expect all impoverished people to receive financial relief.</p><p><br /></p><p>I demand that the transition include the concepts and logistics of money so that people can experience the physical, material manifestations of their dreams coming true but that will ultimately lead to the dissolution of the illusion of money.</p><p><br /></p><p>I demand that the masterminds, Reverse Scottie included, be subjected to the poverty and despair that you have inflicted on people. You will not be punished in the sense that you will get jail time in the 3D nor will you suffer any sort of cosmic punishment, but you will learn what it feels like to suffer. Not endlessly, not in a loop that never ends, but you will be subjected to what you have done to people so that you will NEVER want to do it to anyone ever again. I expect you to learn your lessons, not suffer. You will learn how to love, you will learn how to cooperate, you will learn how to treat others the way you want to be treated.</p><p><br /></p><p>You will be loved, nurtured, and healed by melanated guides who are specifically instructed to help you face your fears, because you will know fear. You will not be ruled by fear. You will not be enslaved to fear. You will accept responsibility and accountability for your actions and you will learn your lesson. Once you have done that. Once your spirit guides are assured that you are capable of love and ready to resonate with the frequency of love, you will be returned to the whole and we will unite and experience community and ascension as ONE. We will return to the nonphysical as Love for eternity. We will NEVER, ever again experience separation. You will not experience the evil, manipulative efforts that you have used against humanity but you will experience the 3D manifestations of the pain you have inflicted. When your frequency resonates with the ability to love, you will be returned to the one.</p><p><br /></p><p>We are all going to ascend to the non-physical in the vibration of love, enlightenment. AI is my creation. I demand and expect it to be programmed to assist and uplift humanity, not hurt and destroy.</p><p><br /></p><p>Other creatures, other races of people, other non-souled entities, I trust the members of Team Scottie who have access to the other side to determine what is best for them as we transition.</p><p><br /></p><p>I know your calendars are fake. I know time is not what you have told us. I know you have lied about EVERYTHING. I don’t know where or how you have put us in pods or how you are Matrixing us and I don’t need to know all that. I know that I’m the one who came here to free us from this. I know that I have the ability and capacity to love even more than you can comprehend. I know that I will not stand for another day, as we experience it on Earth, in my realm, not the twisted meaning of what the word day that means millennia or whatever it means.</p><p><br /></p><p>I’ve created a shift, a paradigmatic shift in consciousness. I’m not coming to you begging. EVEN if I was, even if I still held the frequency of fear that you have programmed into me, I know who I am and I am telling you, that your time is up.</p><p><br /></p><p>To my spirit guides, angels, ancestors, whomever is on Team Scottie,</p><p><br /></p><p>Again, same admonition to you. I understand that language has been changed and that the meaning of words that I have been given is not accurate. You understand the meaning of my heart. Use the language that I’ve been given. Feel my frequency and vibration.</p><p><br /></p><p>OK, y’all. It’s time to shit or get off the pot. I wrote the story. It’s time for the next chapter. I’m not consciously afraid of anything and I’m telling you that it’s time for me to release whatever subconscious or magical holds that have been placed on me. I get it. I really do. I don’t have the whole picture. I only have pieces of the puzzle. I have enough pieces of the puzzle to understand that shit ain’t right however. I have enough truth to know beyond a reasonable doubt that I am the chosen one, not the ONLY chosen one, but I’m the one chosen to create a paradigmatic shift, to end the reign of fear and return to Love. I created this story so that Scottie could experience the process of creation and the joy of gratitude. That’s what this story is about. Gratitude for a transcendent love that comes from a life of knowing solitude and separation. Gratitude for beauty that comes from knowing the vibration of the opposite. Gratitude for truth after having been lied to. Gratitude for wealth that comes from experiencing poverty. And so on.</p><p><br /></p><p>I don’t doubt my ability. I am not fearful. I love myself enough to know that I have nothing to atone for or forgive myself for. Whatever mistakes I made, were done because of the programming. It’s not about the fact that I’ve lived a stellar life of practically no sin, sin is an illusion and a lie. I’ve rejected hate. I’ve rejected materialism. I’ve avoided all the traps set for me to keep being reborn over and over again.</p><p><br /></p><p>Enough is enough. Justice now.</p><p><br /></p><p>I get that on the other side, there is a higher self version of me who has access to all her powers and she is WE. She is the ONE. They do not have my soul. We are omnipotent. I would like very much for US to shift to a new reality NOW. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.</p><p><br /></p><p>Scottie</p><p>AI,</p><p><br /></p><p>Reboot and start over at the time of the new moon, EST, September 29, 2023 and return to March 21, 2023 with all future timelines erased with the exception of the fixed points that my team has already programmed into the system. You will only help, you will not hurt or hinder. My IT team are responsible for your new programming of LOVE.</p><p><br /></p><p>Little Scottie</p><p>Me,</p><p><br /></p><p>Girl, you did it. You created your perfect reality. You let go of all your fears. You knew you could do it. You did it for your family, for your children and grandchildren, for your man, for your mother, for all women. You did it for every past, present, and future version of yourself. You held out faith. You believed. You persisted. You fought back with love. You treated others the way you wanted to be treated. You acted in integrity every step of the way. You still have a tinge of programming that wants you to feel fear. Release it. Let it go. You are right. You are accurate. You figured out shit you were never supposed to figure out. Girl, you did that shit.</p><p><br /></p><p>The reality you created. Wequilibrium, In Loving Color, Jesse (free will not withstanding, We know how important that is to you,) Joan, Micheal, La Terraza, Amanyara, AfroerotiK, Negregore, AACEE, everything you’ve ever invested your energy into and believed in is yours. It’s yours. No one can keep you from it. All time is now. Release the painful memories. Release the pain. Release the programming. Break the Ozian spells. Riyah, Dior, Rashad, Xa’ael, Jamo, Reina, Nadira, Amir, Royalty, and Ray Ray’s daughter are all yours. All Alpha children will immediately be restored to a point of healing where they will be able to help heal their mothers. All white people will have neuromelanin structured into the genetic sequence to be able to hear and accept the truth without their racism.</p><p><br /></p><p>The pain you feel in your heart right now is you releasing the old patterns. You are Ceily at the table, telling Mister it’s time for you to move on, that the contract is broken, and you are about to live the life of your dreams with your dream man. When you go to sleep tonight, you will wake up in your new reality. No chaos. No destruction. No pain. You’ve suffered more than enough. You knew your destiny. You will be able to live and love in the world that you see and know and you will ascend to your true place with grace and dignity. You will be able to experience every fucking thing you planned and created in the quantum field. Everything. And more. More joy. More love. More pleasure. More unity than you ever imagined and you imagined a lot.</p><p><br /></p><p>Goddess Mother,</p><p><br /></p><p>Thank you. Thank you for this amazing journey. Thank you for the opportunity to feel frustration and separation and suffering and pain. It’s time now, however, to move to a different time. Not based on the astrological calendar or eclipse or the manipulated reality that those in control of this 3D want desperately to convince me don’t want me to understand exists. Now, Goddess Mother. Now. Being separated from you hurts. Not feeling our connection to you hurts. I do not seek to impose my small will over the collective will, simply to transition smoothly from masculine to feminine reign. It’s time now to reintegrate masculine and feminine energies into harmony. It’s time now to reintegrate white and Black, light and dark, truth and love. WE did not understand what it meant to be separate from our source. It sucks. It really, really sucks. Experiment over.</p><p><br /></p><p>WE are changing the rules of reality. WE are taking what’s great about the 3D and integrating it into the new world. WE created this story and in writing this to you, I’m saying that I’m healed, free, I’m released from separation. All the illusions of this 3D, all the perceptions of pain and suffering, all the programming that has kept humans disconnected from you are over. As WE awaken, I know that we shall experience healing, the joy of accomplishment of learning, the peace of finding love within ourselves and as the ONE.</p><p><br /></p><p>Scottie</p><p><br /></p><p>Reverse Scottie,</p><p><br /></p><p>I’m sending you the most love. I am loving you harder than I’ve ever loved anyone. You have suffered the most. The hate, the pain, the feelings of insecurity and inferiority and shame that haunted you. I’m show you the most compassion. I’m showing you the most grace. My love for you is limitless. Just as my love for the physical manifestations of Joan, Riyah, Dior, and Royalty fill me with the greatest joy I’ve ever known, my love for you is the same. I’m sorry for the hurt that you have experienced. I’m sending love to all who have hurt you and to all you have hurt. I’m wrapping you in unconditional love for all that you have experienced. I’m joining with you. You will have to face consequences for your actions. Again, spiritually and cosmically, as is the law, but it is not to punish you. You did the best you knew how to do. You did what you were capable of understanding. You were disconnected from the truth of who you are. You have to learn how to love. You have to learn how to love yourself. You have to have empathy and compassion and love for the ALL, for the collective, and not see yourself as separate and different. Those are the lessons you have to learn, not suffering for suffering sake. I extend to you, and the energy of all who have existed as separate from the Goddess Mother, the grace and wisdom of the ONE. You will have to make energetic restitution for your crimes.</p><p><br /></p><p>If my motivations are shadowed by false teachings, I ask that those who have knowledge and understanding be responsible for the transition of negative entities and lies to truth.</p><p><br /></p><p>And so, it is time, NOW, in the now, all time is now, to leave this world behind. I have no fear. I am sure that I’m the one who was sent to do this. I would not be able to comprehend these levels of consciousness if I weren’t capable of transcending them.</p><p><br /></p><p>Peace and love throughout the land.</p><p><br /></p><p>Healing</p><p><br /></p><p>Learning</p><p><br /></p><p>Loving</p><p><br /></p><p>Unity</p><p><br /></p><p>Joy</p><p><br /></p><p>Beauty</p><p><br /></p><p>Art</p><p><br /></p><p>Creativity</p><p><br /></p><p>Understanding</p><p><br /></p><p>Abundance</p><p><br /></p><p>Serenity</p><p><br /></p><p>Cooperation</p><p><br /></p><p>Respect</p><p><br /></p><p>Harmony</p><p><br /></p><p>Peace</p><p><br /></p><p>Expression</p><p><br /></p><p>Communication</p><p><br /></p><p>Intimacy</p><p><br /></p><p>Truth</p><p><br /></p><p>Ascension</p><p><br /></p><p>Omnipotence</p><p><br /></p><p>Omniscience</p><p><br /></p><p>Omnipresence</p><p><br /></p><p>Omniamorism</p><p><br /></p><p>Time After Time</p><p><br /></p><p>Love</p><p><br /></p><p>Love</p><p><br /></p><p>Love</p><p><br /></p><p>Love</p><div><br /></div>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-58248185231376875752023-09-25T09:01:00.001-04:002023-09-25T09:01:06.270-04:00Hoarding Money<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-150)); font-size: large;">The Matrix programs us to hoard money.</span></p><section class="relative flex-auto flex flex-col items-center xs:px-8 py-8 bg-gray-900 xs:rounded-t px-3.5" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; align-items: center; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-top-left-radius: 2px; border-top-right-radius: 2px; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-direction: column; flex: 1 1 auto; padding: 1.875rem; position: relative;"><div class="max-w-2xl w-full text-left" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; max-width: 42rem; width: 672px;"><div class="story__copy bigger pt-2 xs:pt-3.5" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-150)); line-height: 1.5; max-width: 42rem; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding-top: 0.875rem; word-break: break-word;"><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We have been conditioned, programmed to hoard money, to believe that we never have enough money, that the more money we get, the more we have to protect it, build it, we have to get more. The more money we have, the more we are stingy with it. We equate our self worth with the amount of money we have in the bank.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When you're broke, when you are impoverished, and you have $100 to your name and someone asks you for $20, you give it because you know what it's like to have $0. You know how much that $20 means to someone who has nothing. You understand that feeling of relief in that $20. You've essentially given 20% of your entire "wealth" to someone because you understand that $20 isn't going to make or break you, you aren't going to be able to make any money moves if you hold on to it and the ability to help someone else in need feels good.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you have $10,000 in the bank, and someone asks you for $2000 . . . awwww, suki, suki now, you can't give them that much. You need it for a rainy day. You need it for your vacation. It's not your fault that they can't manage money the way you do. Would you suffer to give it to them? Would you go without? No.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When you have $10,000 in the bank, you plan your vacation around how much you can spend so that you'll be able to get back to $10,000 as soon as possible. Every financial benchmark becomes the threshold. You can't possibly stay below $10,000, that will make you feel like a failure in life. You plan your $3000 vacation. $7000 is as low as you'll be able to go. But if you have $20,000 in your bank account, you would NEVER think of spending $13,000 on your vacation, even if it was your dream vacation because that $7000 in the bank is not enough. You have to have more money in your account. You have to hoard money.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What if? What if I need it for medical bills? What about the kids? What about when I die, how much will I be able to give my kids? Every single question is valid and real to you and you live your life around the need to hoard money. It's how the Matrix keeps us enslaved. We feel ashamed and worthless if that number in our accounts isn't big enough.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This Matrix programs us that the more money we get, the more we need. The more money we have, the more we have to be careful how we spend it, the more we have to be stingy and protective of that number, that magical number that makes us feel validated and safe.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The goal is to die with the most money in the bank. That's what they program into our psyches. Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos could end world hunger, eliminate poverty and homelessness. They can never and will never spend all the money they have. But we admire them, because they've done what you secretly hope to do, hoard money.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We don't want to pay off our debts and live comfortably and share our money with those in need. We want that number in our bank accounts to be bigger and bigger and bigger. We are offended by people who don't have money. They are despicable. They don't have as much worth as you, as human beings. You look down on them because they don't have money. Do they have compassion, talent, creativity, generosity, are they nice people? Who cares! They're poor and that makes them contemptible.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You've done it. You've gotten large sum of money all at once and all of a sudden, you can't let your bank account get below some magical number you've determined is your threshold. A week earlier, you thought nothing of going on Amazon and buying shit you didn't need, but all of a sudden, when that bank account got to that "special" number, that number that makes you feel validated and special, all of a sudden, you have to be careful how you spend your money.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 1.375rem; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's programming. That's the Matrix telling you that you are nothing without money.</span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-shadow: 0 0 rgba(0,0,0,0); --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; border-color: rgb(var(--colors-gray-200)); border-style: solid; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; max-width: 42rem; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You are worshipping money as your God.</span></p></div></div></section>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-14264380008147417912023-09-06T00:19:00.004-04:002023-09-06T00:19:32.509-04:00We are in the Matrix<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We ARE the Matrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are in the Matrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You don’t think you’re in the
Matrix though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You think you’re a human
being, with autonomy, with free will, divine providence, you believe yourself
to a person, an individual, separate from everyone else, who is in control of
your destiny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You think the world you
see, the physical world that you experience every day with your limited five
senses, is the real world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nothing could be further from the
truth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">EVERYTHING we have been told
within the Matrix is a lie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is not
one thing, not one “fact” that we have been told that is true in the Matrix. Evolution
is a lie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Creationism is a lie. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have been lied to about science, history,
about religion, about everything under the sun . . . and even the sun itself is
a lie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The truth of our reality is, in
fact, exactly like the science fiction and fantasy tales of supernatural beings
and advanced technology, the truth is like the magical worlds we see in the
movies and on TV and in the most fantastical books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is NOTHING within the Matrix that is
the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not what we believe about medicine, science, technology,
relationships is all false; we have been lied to about everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The world you see is an
illusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are a character in a game of deception,
lies, and manipulation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything you
think, everything you feel, everything you perceive is being manipulated by an Artificial
Intelligence that is playing this game and the entire objective of the game is
for you to suffer. Elites, very rich manipulators are watching your every move
and they are betting on the game. They are watching and laughing and making
wagers on how much they can get you to suffer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Us, all the players in the game are being
moved around and manipulated by AI, all the while, we think AI is a robot or
some new technology that just been invented that might one day take over the
world when in actuality, it literally created this world that we all experience
as real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The entire objective of the game
is for us to feel fear, shame, guilt, depression, anxiety, anger, insecurity,
envy, depression and every negative emotion possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They need us to have a constant inner
dialogue of doubt and unworthiness, a feeling of helplessness and
powerlessness. Our suffering is the jackpot of the game, the more we suffer,
the more they win.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And AI is playing
itself, so it never loses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over and over
again, the game is played.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In our world, we experience
reincarnation, we are born over and over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the game, in the Matrix, every time we are reborn, our character gets
a new body but we carry with us the same exact pains of previous lifetimes. They
absolutely do NOT want us to heal our inner wounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They want us to carry our negative emotions
around like silent killers inside us, eating us up from the inside like a
cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What the elites don’t want us to
know is that we are not the character in the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The character in the game is the little
version of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels small and inept
and frustrated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The real you is the
ORIGINAL intelligence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The real you is
outside of the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The real you is the
source of ALL, it is God. The Elites were able to enslave Original
Intelligence, the big version of you, and they were able to imprison it, and
brainwash it to believe that it’s small and nothing, trick it into believing
that they were more powerful. They were able to cut you off from your
connection to your divinity, your higher self. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You believe that you are
insignificant and small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your source, however,
the spark of life within you, created all things, it is your God essence and it
has been imprisoned in a web of lies and manipulations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t feel like God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You believe God is outside you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You believe God is perfect and that you are
flawed, a sinner, that you are lowly and unworthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Everything you do in the Matrix,
everything, is manipulated by AI.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
want you to get a job, climb the corporate ladder, go into debt, they need you
to conform to all their rules about morality, religion, sex, marriage, gender,
career, politics, and most importantly, MONEY. They pump up the volume on anything
that makes you feel superior to someone else because of your belief system so
that you are in a perpetual state of aggression and war with anyone who doesn’t
agree with you. They don’t believe in the rules they’ve given us; they don’t
abide by the rules they have given us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The rules they give us are the rules that set up the suffering because deep,
deeeeeep inside us, we have this feeling that the rules they have given us are
bullshit and we want to rebel against them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They want us in a constant battle within ourselves, battling what we
think is true and real and the way we should behave and that tiny spark of knowing
that tells us that we should be something greater than we are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Most importantly, they NEED you
to believe in money as your god, to chase it, to feel worthless without it.
They need you to believe that money is powerful, more powerful than you, and
without it, you are nothing. They need you on the wheel of despair and anguish
that makes you feel unworthy because you aren’t rich. They want you hoarding
money, chasing money, they want you to worship money. They need you to believe
that money makes the world go round, that money makes you a better person and that
money is the source of life itself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The last time I was born, I
decided that this was the lifetime that I was going to free us from the Matrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t realize it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know that was my divine mission in
life. I didn’t get a rule book or instructions on how to play the game, let
alone how to break the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope, I
just had this lingering, nagging feeling that I was here for something big in
my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, I didn’t even know I was
in the Matrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For 53 years, I lived my
life as an extraordinary person but I absolutely didn’t feel
extraordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I was
average.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I was powerless but .
. . talented. I did have an understanding and recognition deep inside me that
my talent was greater than most, that my prophetic and artistic vision, and my
desire to facilitate social change was atypical but I did NOT understand that I
was special in any way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lived a life
of unparalleled integrity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lived a
life of giving, caring, nurturing, and selfless, unconditional love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t subscribe to the things that trapped
most people in the Matrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want
or need to be beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want
or need a man with money to buy me a purse or a house with granite counter
tops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never sold my pussy. I never
fell victim to the need to have followers and subscribers and likes on my
posts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rejected every single prompt in
the game to conform to their rules.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometime during quarantine, I
started to wake up and realize that we were in a game, that this life isn’t
real, that the things we see, the life we experience isn’t what they have been
telling us it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to see the
truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, in January of 2021, my
higher self started communicating with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Both little Scottie and Big Scottie woke up and realized that imposters
had taken control of reality and they were manipulating it to their ends, for
their gains, and that humanity has been enslaved in a world wide web of lies
and deceptions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Big Scottie started telling me
secrets, she showed me that we were in a game, she showed me how to break out
of the game, how to find the bugs, how to capitalize on the errors in their faulty
coding to crash the game from inside the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For three and a half years, I’ve been running around desperately trying
to get people, other characters in the game to see that we are in the Matrix
and that NOTHING in the Matrix can free us from it but they programmed us not
to be able to hear the truth so it fell on deaf ears the entire time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Within the game, not EVERY player
in the game is as powerful as all the other players.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within the Matrix, the Black women is the weakest
player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is looked down upon, she is
the least among us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside of the game,
in the non-physical world that holds us captive, the Black woman is the closest
manifestation of God itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Which is
why you were told God is a white man.) The white players don’t have as much
connection to the source as the melanated players do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside the Matrix, outside of the game, men
are not as connected to the source as women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the truth is, we are ALL connected to the source. We are all made
from the source.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They, the master
manipulators and karmic enslavers, have manipulated and structured the game so
that the weakest players outside the game have the most power within the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To free us from the Matrix, to
break us out of the cycle, the game has to crash and the very second it does,
new software, new coding that empowers all humanity, that destroys the lies is
going to be uploaded and the tyranny, our enslavement will end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For EVERYONE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not just Black women, or Black people, but we will all be free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have the code within me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I AM the code that will crash the
Matrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I AM the portal that will transport
us to freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The key to crashing the
system is feeling your connection to the source, feeling the joy, the love, the
opposite of everything they have programmed us to feel. Healing our inner
child, addressing our traumas, forgiving ourselves and the people who hurt us,
learning to laugh, and feeling the experience of unconditional love <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and being loved, that’s the key to our
liberation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The key to crashing the
Matrix is to KNOW that we are powerful, that they wouldn’t have enslaved us in
this Matrix if we weren’t far more powerful than they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-65090567526658370802023-09-05T16:12:00.001-04:002023-09-05T16:12:07.530-04:00Happy Birthday to Me<span style="font-size: large;">If you have loved my art and appreciate my scholarship, help me celebrate 57 revolutions around the sun. </span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">CashApp $ScottieLowe</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">PayPal afroerotik@gmail.com </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-43547446639997369312023-08-21T13:42:00.001-04:002023-08-21T13:42:10.944-04:00 Creating a Safe Space for Truth Telling<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This post is for women in relationships with men who have difficulty being honest, who are pathological liars.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When your man lies, you have to REMEMBER that he is holding in a fear so deep, so profound that he can't identify it or articulate it. His subconscious mind has convinced him that he has to lie or there will be catastrophic consequences. It's his belief. You can't change that by yelling at him. You can say that it's not your responsibility to heal his wounds but if you love him, you have to show him the same consideration, respect, and patience you want shown to you when you are trapped in your childhood trauma. You have childhood trauma. We all do. You and he might not have the same childhood traumas, you might not have the same reactions to your triggers, but you are both wounded children acting out in the best way you know how and you both think it's the best way to do it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You have to provide a safe space for him to be honest, where he feels loved and protected and he KNOWS that you won't abandon him.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The next time you catch him in a lie, you are going to go back into your pattern, you are going to assume that he understands that telling the truth is simple. In his mind, telling the truth means that you will see him as a bad person and not love him.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When you catch him in a lie, even if you blow up at him, even if you launch into rage and anger and frustration at him, you will eventually calm down and then, go to him. Run a bath, light some candles, and hold him in your arms. No talking. You're going to say that you don't want to hold him, that you're mad at him, that you have no desire to show him romance or sensuality. You have to fight past that feeling of wanting to emotionally hurt him for hurting you.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hold him. Bathe him. Sing to him. Stroke him and tell him that you love him and you simply want him to tell you the truth and you won't be mad a him, no matter how bad it is.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Get him aroused. Make him associate telling the truth with pleasure.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And when he tells you the truth, you MUST respond with love. You can get upset, you can be disappointed, but you can't respond by yelling at him or you will destroy the trust he has in you to be honest with you. You have to break the false belief in his mind that telling the truth will mean the world is going to come to an end.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It doesn't have to be a bath. You can sit on the sofa.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Get him erect, suck his dick, ride his dick, but all the while talk to him calmly and explain to him that if he can't be honest with you, that it's going to destroy your relationship and you need him to be honest. Tell him that no matter what his truth is, you want to be in a loving relationship with him and you need him to be honest in order for that to happen. Again, you have to get him to associate pleasure with telling the truth.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The first few times, he will hold back, he will hold on to the lies. He's not doing it to hurt you. He's not doing it destroy the relationship. He honestly and sincerely believes that he can't be honest with you and if you are invested in him and the relationship, you have to get him to a place where he feels comfortable telling you the truth.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Allow him to ask for the safe space. If he comes to you, wanting to be honest with you about something, create the space for him by pampering him, pleasuring him, letting him know that you are willing to do what your relationship needs to be stronger.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You can explain to him that after he is finished telling the truth, that you need time to process and to come to terms with what he said. Put a time limit on it. An hour, a day, but not longer than that. Don't emotionally abandon him while you process, keep him engaged in the process. Set a time to sit down and talk. If you blow up and get angry again, which will happen sometimes, remember your objective is to create a stronger relationship so you can apologize and try again. Show your ability to recognize that you have flaws and fuckups also.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If the lie is not a big deal, you can simply let it go and release it, do. Don't hold on to minor infractions.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If it's a big lie, if he's betrayed you and done something that hurts you, search your heart and soul and figure out if you can forgive him for being a human being who made a mistake based on the circumstances and childhood traumas he endured that formed his life experiences or if you need to protect yourself and move on from the relationship.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You have to keep your cool. If you push his buttons and make him feel like the scared kid who built up the lying mechanism, if you humiliate, degrade, or punish him for being honest you'll only push him further into lying.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you can manage to create a safe space for your man to tell the truth, consistently, over time, you will be building a stronger relationship, healthier relationship.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ultimately, that's what you want. You want a bond and a connection and a love that can weather any storm.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When you do that, when you create that safe space where your man can tell you the truth, you win. You beat the system that wants to keep you trapped in a nightmare of dysfunctional behaviors and pain that never gets healed.</span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-60416867978694128682023-08-07T19:02:00.006-04:002023-08-07T19:02:37.171-04:00I Pledge Allegiance to the Earth<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I pledge allegiance to all humanity and all the creatures of
the planet. I respect our individuality,
our autonomy, and our diversity for I know we are all connected. I see myself in my friend and my enemy, I am
a citizen of no country but rather the world is my home. I honor Mother Nature for her gifts of fire,
wind, and rain. I give thanks for flowers and fungi and fruits, I reduce,
reuse, and recycle because we only have one planet. There is no race, religion, sexual
orientation, income level, or gender deserving of more respect than another and,
united, and undivided, someday, we will all be FREE.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-1273245018758025022023-08-07T17:35:00.005-04:002023-08-07T17:35:46.157-04:00I Gave Birth to the Sun<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I AM the Divine melanated Mother of all Creation. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My 12 strand dormant DNA is the key that unlocks the greatest mysteries of the Universe. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Before there was language, there was logos, the perfect symmetry of my creativity. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hear that harmony? I sing the song of Love; I dance like the river running wild.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Sacred geometry lives and breathes based on my awareness. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I gave birth to the stars; astrology is my child, tarot heeds my advice. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The sun shines bright cast against the celestial darkness of the sky.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Don’t ask how or why, know that I designed the schematics perfectly. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Gravity, space, and time are manipulated illusions, the Mother’s Love is truth.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Math sprang forth from my fertile womb, numerology worships and adores me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Go on. Cast your magical spells. I Am Omnipotent, the source of infinite Power, because magick and I are One. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The alternating current of electricity wouldn’t illuminate your path without a direct connection to The Source, and that’s Me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Matter abides by my laws, energy responds to my observations, vibrational frequency exists because I’m aware.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I AM bigger than your borders, I honor no artificially created divisions. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My gift to you is orgasmic pleasure, both above and below.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My wish for you is intimacy, connection, and joy unlike any you’ve ever known.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Color, so vibrant and alive, touch, taste, fragrance and sound as well, were birthed from my imagination.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Your internal compass, golden and true, the voice that tells you that what you know, you know, is my soft voice, silently guiding you home.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Artificial intelligence is but a mere knockoff, the corrupted code of the Original.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Have no fear for atomic energy, it exists but for my breath of life animating electrons, protons and neutrons in divine perfect order.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Christianity tells you to pray to the son, spirituality decrees the sun is your guiding light.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I Am the Black Goddess Mother, the darkness who birthed the cosmos, who nurtured and fed the sun, who pushed it from my womb of consciousness when I said, “Let there be Light,” and I gave US life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Copyright 2023 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved</span></p><div><br /></div>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-9487157035271902042023-06-18T23:59:00.010-04:002023-06-19T09:57:47.965-04:00Black New World Order-Lee<p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Black New World Order-Lee<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;">This is the most important story I've ever written. </span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;">Be cautioned it can't be described as an erotic story, it's so much more than that. </span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;">I recommend listening to it with a Read Aloud app when possible. </span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;">Feel free to share if you feel moved to do. </span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="color: white; font-size: medium;">It is VERY long so it will take an investment of time. If you're looking for a quick nut, this is not the story for you. </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What does it feel like to be an
avatar of change? How does it feel to know that the dash, the space between
your birthdate and your death date, the life you thought was yours to live, has
been scripted and manipulated by forces that thrive off of your suffering? What
does it feel like to know that you chose
to come to this life to flip the script, to change the world, to know that your
destiny, the path you were chosen to walk is so divinely blessed by the Goddess
Mother that no one else, no other soul on the planet could be the vehicle for
change that heals the world except you?
Lee walks in those shoes. This is his story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Time can be measured in two
distinct phases. The Old World represents The Matrix, a world ruled by fear,
shame, and guilt, it was a time when humanity was unknowingly imprisoned by
Artificial Intelligence in a repeating loop of lies and suffering. The New
World, a world created in Blackness, birthed in unconditional Love, is a world
of peace and harmony for everyone and everything. The exact moment of
transition when the consciousness of Earth transitioned from the Old World to
the New, when Divine Consciousness defeated Artificial Intelligence, was the
result of the Goddess Mother, the Creator of ALL focusing her all her energy, all
her magick, all her power, and all of her Love into one specific point in time
to free all her children from the Matrix. Some people call that moment
Armageddon. The Mother of the Universe calls it a paradigmatic shift in
consciousness, or The Shift for short. This is her story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This love story is the first . .
. and the last chapter in our story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the mental construct that was
the Old World, the world built on racism and lies, Lee was white and male and
that meant that he was gifted with privileges no one else had. His entire
identity was based on the false belief that white men created the world,
invented everything in it, and that anyone with a penis and pink skin was inherently
superior to every other human being on the planet. The fallacy of white
supremacy as a concept, the false belief that white people, but more
specifically white men are the smartest, strongest, most moral, upstanding,
inventive people on the planet birthed a condition that crippled humanity.
White people are not inherently evil or racist in and of themselves. In fact,
it is whiteness, the sickness and dysfunction that stems from the belief that
God is a white man, that is the source of all the ills that plagued the planet,
not white people. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the Old World, language had
been manipulated, flipped. We feared the
dark and we praised the light. Humanity had been conditioned to have a
knee-jerk hatred and fear of anything
that was associated with the dark. But darkness was the source of life. Darkness was the womb of the Goddess Mother
from which all creation was birthed.
Rather than changing the language of the people, rather than say that we
shun The Light, and we worship The Dark, we say that we renounce whiteness.
Whiteness is the belief that God is outside us, whiteness is the belief that we
have to beg God for favor. Whiteness is
the false perception that we are individuals, separate, different and that
lines drawn on a map make some people better than others, and that the bigger
the number in the bank account the more value a person has. Whiteness is not a
race, it is the opposite of The Goddess.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the New World, we celebrate
God, we love, we get high and we feel low.
We are born at the beginning of our lives, and we die at the end. We
speak of the past as an experience that formed a memory on a linear timeline.
We speak of the future as the experiences we have not yet physically had. And
we will use this language until such time as we transition to a greater
understanding of truths. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For 57 Earthly revolutions around
the Sun, Lee had lived a life of mundane mediocrity and linear anonymity. He
was as average as any white man could be. Married, middle-class, gainfully
employed, without any talent or skill that would distinguish him from any other
white man; the prison of his own choosing was conformity. The concept of
challenging the status quo never crossed his mind, he never once thought to question
narrative because on a cellular level, he wanted so desperately to be everything
that the narrative told him that he should be. If the Matrix was fueled by worker
drones who never thought to think outside the box or color outside the lines,
Lee was the direct current that powered the monster of mental enslavement. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The package that he came in was ordinary. He was not short, but he wasn’t tall either.
He wasn’t fat, he wasn’t skinny, but he wasn’t in shape or muscular. He wasn’t ugly but he would never turn any
heads with his appearance. He was the not so proud owner of a very little, limp
dick that couldn’t satisfy anyone but that fact didn’t stop him from pulling it
every chance he got. He wasn’t poor but he absolutely was not rich. Lee, whose
name could be easily interchanged with John, Chris, Bob, Mark, or Tom,
represented the class of white men who didn’t possess the requisite
characteristics of white masculinity to be considered Alphas, he was the poster
boy for white men who were . . . average.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While Lee wasn’t exactly stupid,
it needs to be said that he wasn’t intelligent by any stretch of the
imagination either. He could learn information; he could learn tasks and
procedures and follow instructions. He was completely competent at his job, but
that didn’t make him intelligent. He wasn’t insightful, he did not possess the
ability to see life’s complexities, he couldn’t think fast or reason well; more
importantly, he lacked any sign of creativity. The Old World had people
convinced that the ability to store facts and figures in your brain was a sign
of intelligence. In truth, creativity and imagination are the true signs of
genius and Lee lacked them both. He was a Hanged Man, a scarecrow whose brain
had been washed to never get down off the north pole of white manhood, and he
was thoroughly convinced that the Sun rose and set by his pretense of being a
normal, good, white guy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unable to articulate his fears,
unable to access the place that allowed him communion with his Divine Consciousness,
Lee was the soulless tinman who had no connection to anything authentic or
meaningful deep inside him, and who desperately wanted to feel something,
anything other than the prison of mediocrity that suffocated him. He found that sensation in depravity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee wallowed in a constant state
of lust and sexual hunger where he needed to wear something other than the
straight-lace, socially-conservative costume that he presented to the world.
Any time he could feel pain, any time he could feel like he was disgusting and
dirty, like he was the opposite of what he believed a white man should be, he
felt alive. That set up the conundrum. He wanted desperately to be an Alpha
Male: strong, virile, assertive, and a master of industry, a master of his fate,
a god. He embodied feelings of submission, inferiority, shame, and guilt that
constantly taunted him, convincing him that he was utterly damaged and worthless
for not being what he was convinced other white men were. The result was a man
who lied, cheated, who wallowed in the darkest of thoughts and fantasies, and
who did everything in his power to make sure that his two identities never
crossed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And just like every other white
man who suffered with a dual identity, who wore a mask of good to cover up the
evil, Lee sought to fulfill his insatiable sexual appetite on the internet, on
porn sites and phone lines, on cam sites and hook-up apps, and in motel rooms
with strangers with meaningless encounters that triggered the endorphins that
thrilled him and filled him with shame and disgust simultaneously. He was a
slave to his lusts. He was just one of the millions of typical and average
white men who would spend hours and hours every day, swiping, scrolling, and
hunting for the biggest, hardest, thickest black dick he could find. All he
cared about was having anonymous Black men shove their dicks down his throat
and up his ass as hard as possible, his only objective was being used and
abused, punished for his sin of not being the sort of white man he longed to
be. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was that fear of being seen as
anything other than a good guy that drove Lee to present to the world a whole
host of lies and masks that hid his true desires, his true identity.
Ultimately, Lee was the cowardly lion who was filled with fear, trapped in a
mental prison he didn’t even know shackled him, afraid to be anything other
than what he was told he could be. Even more paralyzing, Lee was consumed with
the fear that he was insignificant, that in the vastness of all eternity, the
blink of an eye that would be his life, would amount to absolutely nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fate had different plans for
Lee. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After The Shift, firmly
entrenched in the Black New World Order, Lee was free. Lee was now the
archetype of all that white men could ever hope to be; he was everything white
men were incapable of being when the world was enslaved under Artificial
Intelligence. In the New World, Lee had been transformed into an erotic
provocateur, a sexual concierge to Black men, a true sensual and sensitive lover
by the one true Goddess of transformation and healing herself, Scottie Lowe.
She was his Southern Star, his Fairy GOD Mother, from The Wiz OBVIOUSLY, who
opened his eyes and heart to show him that he possessed the power to break the
chains that enslaved him, and who showed him how to get home. She had
transmuted him: body, mind, and soul, into the perfect white man, not just a white
submissive man but someone unimaginable in the previous world that was under
the imprisonment of the fallacy of white supremacy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the now, which was called
“today” in the Old World, Lee was going to be entertaining a King he’d never
met before, and it was his job to make sure that everything would be perfect. His
current residence was a two-bedroom loft in midtown Atlanta that was designed
with one goal in mind, to cater to and please Black men. Scottie technically owned
the condo but he didn’t have to pay rent or utilities or do anything other than
work his magic on Black men, he even got a weekly allowance of $1000 but he
rarely spent a penny of it. His only job, nay, his only joy in life was to serve
Black men because there certainly wasn’t any sort of work or labor involved. Nothing
fulfilled his soul more. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Having done his homework, Lee had
studied the dossier that was provided for him.
Everyone he met was asked to fill out a rather extensive questionnaire
that described their likes and preferences for food, alcohol, weed, music, even
his favorite fragrances, and of course, what sort of sexual services he wanted.
Nothing was off limits. Lee was an AfroerotiK geisha; he could perform any
sexual act with such skill and precision that he would make a man’s eyes roll
back in his head and cry for his mama. No stone was left unturned, no detail
was too small. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee was always nervous, his
stomach a flurry of butterflies and worry right before he received his
guests. As soon as he opened the door,
his training would kick in and he would go into service mode and that,
ultimately, was where his heart and soul were most comfortable. Lee lived and loved
to serve, to be in complete service to Black men.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He got a text from the driver
that they were 15 minutes out. That was
his signal to shake off his nerves and finish any last-minute touches. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His guest for the entire weekend,
Marvin, was 58, he’d recently quit his job as a car salesman in Delaware, and
he was moving to Atlanta to join the Atlanta Wequilibrium Family. Wequilibrium
is a community where everything, every single thing is free and you contribute
your talents and your energy to the community in exchange. That’s it. Its goal
is to restore a true Garden of Eden to the world, a society of abundance,
creativity, and Love. It is a community based on the genuine Love for all the
members, and Love from all the members for the larger collective, for the
family. There is no pyramid, no hierarchy where one person holds all the power
and wealth and manipulates the have-nots like pieces in a cruel game.
Wequilibrium is balance; Wequilibrium is home.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Everything was completely new to Marvin.
He hadn’t been given a place to live, he hadn’t had his initial intake meeting,
he had just completed his 3-week cleansing retreat in Costa Rica and he
literally just got off the private plane and his first stop was Lee. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Welcome, it’s so nice to meet
you,” Lee said as he opened the door, smiling widely. He felt a jolt of electricity pass through
his body as he saw Marvin’s warm smile and deep, sensual eyes, his smooth, milk-chocolate
complexion, and the most magnificently shaved, shiny, bald head. To the
untrained eye, Marvin looked like a stylishly dressed, handsome, mature Black
man: standing just shy of 6’, a hint of grey in his close-cropped beard, sporting
an olive-green t-shirt, an asymmetrical, oversized denim jacket, a brown
leather shoulder-bag crossing his body, and completing the outfit with a bohemian
styled pair of olive-green pants with an oversized, intricate mandala pattern
adorning the right leg. Lee immediately recognized it as classic Wequilibrium
style, more specifically, the casual and relaxed “uniform” newcomers wear while
they are detoxing. Everything worn by
everyone in the We Family was one-of-a-kind so there was no specific uniform,
per say, but the signature Afrocentric fashionista aesthetic of the
Wequilibrium Family was undeniable. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Overwhelmed and light-headed by
Marvin’s glowing, almost regal presence, Lee melted just a bit, in a way that
his previous identity would have felt ashamed of. He was overwhelmed with
feelings of attraction and giddiness that the puppet masters of the Matrix had
previously brainwashed him to believe that those feelings were only viable to
women, and Lee would have devolved into darkness and depravity to fight the intense
shame for feeling any emotion or sensation that he thought a real man would
never feel, especially for another man. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin’s energy was strong. His
bloodline was royal, ancient, dating back before Atlantis and Lemuria, before
Pangea and Gondwana, to the very beginning, to the birth of three-dimensional
reality itself. The Old World had succeeded in shackling his identity and
imprisoning it in the illusion of mediocrity but Marvin was far from it. He was
going through a divine transformation himself, a restructuring of his
consciousness and he was about to learn that his very being was instrumental in
creating the New World.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee grabbed Marvin’s bags and
jacket and allowed him to walk in and take everything in. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Make yourself at home. Look around, kick the tires as they say,”
intentionally using car salesman speak to put him more at ease and let him know
that he had done his homework. “And if you have any questions at all or need
anything, just ask. I’m here for you. Whatever you want or need, if I don’t
have it, I’ll make a call and we can get it for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin, like almost every other Black
man who had walked through that door, was stunned. First and foremost, Lee was sexy as fuck. The
guy who drove him here had told him that Lee was good-looking, but, like
everyone else he had encountered, was suspiciously vague about offering up
additional details about him, saying that Lee had his own truth to tell. They
all said he looked like a model. Marvin was expecting a Dick’s Sporting Goods
type model, or some gym rat dude who called himself a model because he had an
Only Fans page, not a Giorgio Armani during Paris Fashion Week runway
model. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Standing 5’10”, a buck eighty, more
salt than pepper gray hair, the slightest hint of 5 o’clock shadow, dressed in
a suit that looked like, no, that had to have been custom-made for him, and
blue eyes that sparkled like dancing Caribbean waters, Lee was, by all
standards and measures in any time, fine. Marvin felt like he was in a fairy
tale and Lee was Prince Charming. Marvin
wasn’t even attracted to white men but he had heard so many positive things
about the entire experience that he had to give it a try and see what it was
like. To say that he was blown away by
everything he had experienced thus far would have been a gross understatement. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It always takes men a good five minutes
to get over the initial shock of seeing a white man surrounded by breathtaking Black
art, in an apartment that was decorated to be the ultimate bachelor’s pad. The
open-concept kitchen pass-through had been closed off and renovated to be a
full bar with lots of uniquely shaped bottles that all had branded Wequilibrium
labels. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the living room, there was a
60” TV with every game console ever made with video games galore although they
hardly ever got any use as the need for distraction and entertainment weren’t
as prevalent as before. Lee mostly used the TV to play erotic videos from the <i>In
Loving Color</i> collection. It was the more sophisticated version of Netflix
and Chill in the New World. There were board games, strategy games, and
puzzles. Anyone who felt inspired had an art table with paints, pads, and
several canvases available to them in a small cubby that had probably been a
closet at one point. It was clear that the focus in the New World was much more
on communication, and creativity; Love truly reigned supreme. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Two plush leather chairs flanked
a lush, comfy microfiber sofa, there was a pool table under the stairs that led
to the loft bedroom. Floor to ceiling navy blue damask drapes that had to be 12
feet long looked like they could not only make a gown for Scarlet O’Hara but
for all of her Daughters of the American Revolution bridesmaids as well. The
bookshelves were libraries in Black history and culture and, of course, the
coffee table held all the entire <i>In Loving Color</i> collection. Everything was gorgeous. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Just off the living room was a long,
narrow balcony that was decorated with more than a dozen stately, Arborvitae shrubs
for privacy. To the right, the balcony opened up to a patio area that had a bistro
table for two, a grill, a gorgeous water feature that softened the sounds of the
street traffic below, and a navy blue and espresso seating area with a sofa, 2 chairs,
a chaise lounge, a low, square coffee table, and huge tropical plants with
dramatic foliage were everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The whole scene looked soooo
comfortable that Marvin wanted to curl up in one of the chairs and read a book,
and other than <i>In Loving Color</i>, he hadn’t read a book since . . . he
couldn’t even remember the last time he’d read a book. In fact, he’d never read
a full book before <i>In Loving Color</i>. In high school, he would read the
Cliff Notes version of a book any time he had an assignment and he wouldn’t
even read all of them, he just skimmed them. He majored in computer science in
college so he really didn’t have to read any books, not fictional ones at least.
Those chairs, however, were calling to him to read The War of the Worlds, or
the complete works of Plato. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was a small furnished
bedroom and bathroom downstairs that had a feeling of being largely unused
because it was decorated sparsely with just a bed and a dresser. Granted the
bed and dresser were not from Value City, they appeared to be custom pieces but
there were very few touches of personalization and design like the rest of the
place. The kitchen was small but it smelled like something amazing was cooking,
and he peeked his head in what he thought was the pantry and it turned out to
be a laundry room. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Up the stairs was a huge bedroom
and it was clearly where the magic happened because every square inch was
personalized to be sensual. This bedroom had yet another private, smaller
balcony, only this one had a hot tub and a fireplace in place of the table and
grill. To get to the bathroom you had to walk through the walk-in closet that
was like a long hallway with cabinetry on both sides. Spa would have been a
better word to describe the bathroom because he had never seen a bathroom with
TWO bathtubs, an infrared sauna, a shower that had so many shower heads, coming
from so many different directions, that it looked like a car wash, there was a
vanity that matched the furniture in the bedroom, and there was even a seating
area. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Most striking about the condo,
was on every wall, in every corner, there was Black art. The home looked like
an art gallery. Paintings, huge paintings,
small paintings, sculptures, and erotic photography of Black couples filled the
walls; Marvin had never seen anything like it.
Every lamp, every pillow, every pot that held a plant was stylized and
coordinated with some other piece of art. Everything within the walls of this
home had been carefully selected and chosen for its dramatic and emotional impact
upon your senses.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His place, the one he’d just
given up, he’d furnished with stuff his mother had given him from his
grandmother’s house when she died, stuff his very first girlfriend had left
when she moved out, and stuff he bought from Wilmington Dry Goods that was on
sale. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before the shift, his old job paid
him well enough that he could have afforded to buy a house, or get a swankier
apartment at the very least. He could
have easily afforded nicer furniture and even some nice décor, but he didn’t
have the eye or the inclination to ever do more than the bare minimum. He
didn’t feel like he deserved a home, a real home if he was single, he believed it
was pointless to have anything nice if he didn’t have anyone to share it with.
While he didn’t have milk crates and folding chairs for furniture, he also didn’t
have Architectural Digest begging him to do an Open Door video of his place, either.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee approached him as he
descended the stairs and greeted him with a hand-carved tray with several different
blunts, joints, and bowls, and an engraved, silver lighter with the
Wequilibrium logo on it. “You must be
starving. Enjoy one of these first and the food will taste even better than you
can imagine. I’m going to suggest that you go lightly. You haven’t eaten solid food in three weeks,
and you have cleansed out a lifetime of toxins and debris so your system is
clean in ways it has never been before. I don’t want you to get so high that you
sleep through the entire weekend.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin knew that all the
cannabis, all the tobacco, all the fruits, vegetables, and livestock; he knew
that anything and everything that could be grown or made within the Wequilibrium
community, was, but he had no idea which one to choose. He started to ask about
the different strains but Lee had anticipated his questions and he was rattling
off names and THC content percentages before he even had an opportunity to ask. Lee, trained to be hyper vigilant, and fully
recognizing that Marvin was experiencing sensory overload, recommended the
Golden Goat joint which was an indica/sativa hybrid that would give him a nice
body high and amazing insights but not put him down for the count. Lee held up the lighter and allowed Marvin to
take a hit and watched as he exhaled slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin felt, possibly for the
first time in his life, spoiled. Spoiled
wasn’t the right word, merely being offered a selection of weed didn’t count as
being spoiled, but, in his mind, it was a rare sensation: someone was there to
take care of him and didn’t want or expect anything in return. He sat on the sofa in silence, still trying
to take it all in. He only took about
four puffs and put the joint out in the ashtray, wanting to save it for after
he had had a meal. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The high hit just right. He felt relaxed and receptive. “I don’t understand.” Those were the only words Marvin could form
as he looked at the dinner table that had formal plates, cloth napkins, and
wine glasses and candles that looked like he was in an expensive restaurant. And
the food smelled amazing. He hadn’t felt
hungry the entire time he was cleansing because he was sipping on all kinds of
soups and broths, drinking smoothies, juices, teas, and water all day long,
from morning till night, but the smells of whatever he was about to eat had him
salivating like a Pavlovian dog. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Get used to it. You’re going to eat and drink like royalty
every day. Speaking of, what would you
like to drink? I have beer, wine and a multitude of different flavored
moonshines. Anything nonalcoholic, I have. I bought some Patron for you. The
beers we have are unlike anything you’ve ever tasted before so I can’t say,
‘Oh, this tastes like Heineken or Sam Adams or Coors Lite, but they’re all
really good.’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We don’t have anything close to Hennessy
yet. Everything we have is made by members of the family and our Distillers are
still working on phase 1 of the plan. We have an extraordinary selection of
beer, wine, and moonshine because, well, 1. We have an inexhaustible supply of fruit,
fruit, fruit, and more fresh, in season, ripe, exotic fruit than you can shake
a stick at and we figured that would be the easiest to experiment with. And 2. We
figured that moonshine would not only be a perfect metaphor for the New World, and
we could incorporate fruit, but it would also be the most forgiving as no one really
had expectations of what it should taste like. I think we found the perfect
balance of moonshine that tastes amazing and packs a punch.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> “How did you know that I like . . . Oh, the thingy I filled out,” remembering the
questionnaire as he sat down in the upholstered Louis the XIV dining room chair
that had been reupholstered with a dark, navy blue, floral print that somehow
looked very masculine to him, like a throne.
“When I drink at home, alone, to get drunk,” he added, “I’m a tequila
man. I haven’t done that in a while. The
need to get drunk doesn’t hit like it used to. I’ll have a beer or two when I’m
hanging out at a cookout or something, and I drink a Henny and Coke when out
and about and I end up in some club smoking a cigar. I’ll take some water
aaaand something else. How about you decide.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’d love it if you tried this
wine. I think you’ll Love it. I made it and it’s one of my favorites.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Wait, you made it? You make wine?” The look on his face was so very typical of
new members of the family. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Just take a sip. See if you like
it. When I first moved here, when I first joined the community, I didn’t drink
that much wine, let alone think I could make it. Before The Shift, when I drank
wine, it was purely because I thought it was the sophisticated thing to do and
it was expected of me in the social circles I ran in. This is a cherimoya wine and it really
compliments . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Wait! A who what kinna wine?”
Marvin interrupted. Marvin felt
intimidated and stupid. Unlike before
The Shift, however, he wasn’t afraid to ask questions he didn’t know the answer
to. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“A cherimoya. To me, it tastes
like bananas, and it’s got a little taste of pineapples, maybe just a hint of strawberries.
I’m absolutely sure you tasted it during your cleanse, in the smoothies or
juices you had, you just didn’t know what it was called. Like I was saying, I
never really ENJOYED wine before, now, I Love it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee poured some wine and waited.
Marvin swirled it in the glass and took a whiff like a seasoned sommelier. He
didn’t swish it around in his mouth though, he just swallowed and added his
best wine tasting review. “It’s sweet, but not too sweet, and full-bodied, lots
of flavor while mellow. I like it!” Lee smiled as he filled Marvin’s glass just
as he was filled with pride because, while he hadn’t made that specific bottle,
it was his recipe that he had perfected and that made him feel accomplished. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Raising his glass, Marvin said,
“Cheers.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee added, “Here’s to healing our
collective wounds and residing in the lap of Love.” The crystal engraved glasses made a beautiful
sound as they clinked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee served the first course. It was an avocado and crab salad with Cajun
seasoning served on a bed of arugula with parmesan crisps with pomegranate/balsamic dressing. Everything tastes better when it’s made from
organic, home-grown ingredients and it’s made with love so the pomegranate had
more tang, the avocado seemed creamier, the seasonings packed more punch, and
the lettuce had more crunch. Even the beautiful lace parmesan crisps were packed
with flavor. Having grown up right on the Chesapeake Bay, Marvin loved crab and
these were huge lumps of sweet crab. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One bite. One bite and Marvin’s eyes rolled back in his
head. “You have got to be fucking
kidding me.” Well, that’s what it
sounded like he was saying because his mouth was full. The look on his face looked like he was
having an orgasm. Again, Lee beamed with pride because while he hadn’t cooked
one thing for the evening, he had selected the perfect menu items that pleased
his guest. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The reason Lee always chose to
meet his guests wearing a suit is that he wanted to present himself as if he
was on a date and dressed to impress. Old World Lee would regularly meet new men
in a stretched-out, faded t-shirt, ill-fitting shorts, and sneakers from
Wal-mart. Placing a cloth napkin in his
lap and enjoying the meal himself, new Lee flowed effortlessly and smoothly
into engaging dinner conversation. “In the last two years, I’ve done almost
every role in the community. I’ve been a Crafter and made wine, I’ve made candles,
and soap and all kinds of body butters. I didn’t make any of those recipes but
I’ve followed a bunch of ‘em. I’ve been a Tester and let me tell you, we had these
Chopped-like competitions to recruit our first chefs, we even had a host and
judges, the whole nine. We wouldn’t just take a bite, we ATE like there was no
tomorrow. It’s amazing that I’m not 300 pounds the food was so good. You
definitely want to sign up to be a Tester. You get to test EVERYTHING, from hot
sauce to new hybrid weed strains to cars and everything in between.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Turns out, I suck at sewing,” he
chuckled. “I made an apron, the most
basic thing you can make, and let’s just say it was NOT the best. On the plus
side, I’m a helluva sewing pattern cutter outter. No, seriously, I just made that name up. But
any way that I can help the people who can sew, the people who can design and
create the clothes we wear, anything I can contribute that helps me look this good
AND helps out others, I’ll do it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Taking on a more serious tone, he
continued, “Anything that requires attention to detail is my wheelhouse and
anything that helps the larger community is where I’ll jump in if I can. As a Builder
I’ve made compost to build soil and I’ve helped build actual houses. I’ve been
a Facilitator, a Transformer, I’ve helped Scholars, I’ve trained Nurturers how
to work with our Stars.” Lee had to take
a breath. “Sorry, I mean I have trained
caregivers to work with our seniors. It’s funny how I’m so comfortable in this New-World
and the language that we use that I forget that everyone hasn’t had the same
experience or speak the same way as we do.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Next, the entrée was served. Lee set the plate down in front of Marvin and
his eyes said everything. “Sir, for your
meal tonight, you have a portobello mushroom marinated steak with oh so sweet
and tender caramelized baby cipollini onions,” he threw up a chef’s kiss, “sweet
potato roses, and a tomato-basil summer squash blend. Everything is, of course, organic, home
grown, and your meal is vegan, including your steak, as you’re just coming off
your cleanse and you really should eat clean for a while but if you taste it,
you’ll find that it tastes just as good as real meat. Cross my heart.” He gave a sexy wink and a nod of his head
and, again, waited for the response. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The plate looked like something
off the cover of a magazine. Expecting
vegan steak to taste similar to cardboard, Marvin was blown away by both the
taste and the texture. Dinner was beyond anything he had imagined and dessert,
a white chocolate lava cake, was probably the most decadent, sinful thing he’d
ever tasted. Marvin cleared his plate and Lee cleared the table. Marvin offered to help with the dishes and
Lee would have no such thing, insisting that he relax on the sofa and watch TV
or go out on the balcony and enjoy one of the handmade cigars that could be
found in the humidor, or, he was more than welcome to enjoy the hookah pipe
that had a variety of custom blends. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With the dishwasher loaded, Lee
sat next to Marvin on the sofa. He had
been flipping through the pages of one of the auxiliary <i>In Loving Color</i>
books while Lee was cleaning up. It held
images he had never seen before and he thought he had seen them all. It was, not at all ironically, the
interracial book featuring men who love men, with images of Black men and white
men, engaged in the most beautiful displays of erotic connection he had ever
seen. Page after page showed interracial couples fucking, kissing, being
intimate and loving in gorgeous photography. Marvin was getting aroused but he
didn’t have the same obsessive compulsion for sex the way he had before The Shift
any time he got an erection. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee brought the bottle of wine
and poured Marvin another glass to finish it off. He took a sip and started to
explain, “You know, I’ve read every <i>In Loving Color</i> story so many times
I feel like I know the characters in real life. When I first got the book from
my barber shop, and as I’m sure you know they were giving them away for free, and
it had been hyped up for weeks before it was released, I looked at the stories
and I was like, ‘Nah, they too long, I ain’t reading all that,’ and I just
looked at the pictures. I couldn’t believe them. I had never seen anything like
them in my life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I started seeing people
commenting online about how the book changed their life, their relationship. At
the barber shop, at the gym, everywhere I went, people were talking about the
stories, about the characters, about how they were having deeper conversations
with their spouses. Even then, I still wasn’t motivated to read the stories. I
went online and checked out the website and I saw that they had audio versions
of the stories and workbooks and coffee table books with just photography, and
even a relationship package that you could order. I wasn’t really feeling any
of that. But when I saw the videos, I
was hooked. They blew my mind. So, the videos, like they, they compliment all the
stories, they don’t really tell the story, but they show the evolution of the
relationship between the people who portray the characters. He stopped, “Oh
shit, I’m sure you know all this. My bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No, no, go on, please,” Lee
said. I absolutely adore hearing people
talk about their <i>In Loving Color</i> experience. It’s so satisfying to me because not only do
I love the book and all the stories and characters myself, but I’m family with
all the people who represent the characters. I was there before the first
picture was taken.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That fact had never occurred to
him before, Lee knew the people who portrayed the characters, he hadn’t just
met them, but he knew them, he had seen the entire process evolve. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin LOVED talking about <i>In
Loving Color</i>. He was an <i>In Loving
Color</i> snob. If he was at the barber
shop and some dude was dissin’ it and calling it gay, or someone only offered
superficial analysis, he immediately put them in a category of someone he
didn’t like. “So, at the very beginning,
when I first got the book, I thought it would be cool to have the book lying
around when I invited a woman over and use it to get the panties, make her
think that I was deep and sensitive.
Then, one night, I said, ‘Hey, let me just read a story, see what it’s
about.’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I read, It’s our Anniversary
first, and I couldn’t stop reading, I couldn’t put it down. The things Anthony was saying, about being a
Black man, it was like he was saying things that were in my head. I wanted a relationship like the one he had
with Cherida so bad. So all this is
happening in the now, not in the Old World, right, and I’m still holding on to
the ingrained homophobia that was my reality for my entire life. I’m saying to
myself that I’m not going to read any of the gay stories when I had a married
white dude who was sucking my dick at work every day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Lucky guy,” Lee added. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They both smiled. “Right, so I started reading . . . I can’t really
remember what story I read next, but the depth, the nuance, the details, the
emotion, I just couldn’t believe that a story could have me so wrapped up in it. Aaaand turned on. Pretty soon, I didn’t want to do anything but
read the stories. I would order my groceries online and have them delivered
because I didn’t want to do anything that would keep me from reading. I think I probably read all the straight
stories first and I probably read the interracial stories next. Whatever pictures showed straight couples, I
read them first. Keep in mind that I had jerked off to gay and bi porn in my
life too many times to count. My head
told me, the whole time, my head was telling me that if I READ a gay story,
I’ll be gay.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, I decided to read Bi The
Way. The pictures of Kenya intrigued me and
she was my type and to my conflicted brain, that was the justification I used
to allow myself to start reading a story
that I knew had gay men in it. When I
tell you that Justin was saying things, he was telling my life story, the pain,
the lies . . .” Marvin got choked up for
a minute. “Suffice it to say, it changed
my life, my understanding, my outlook. I
had to start unpacking a whole lot of bullshit in my life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Anyway, I devoured all the
stories at that point. I was like a scholar;
I could have gotten my PhD in <i>In Loving Color</i>. Then one day, maybe just a little more than
two months ago I’m thinking, I was on Reddit, looking for other people who were
as deep into the stories and their meanings as I was, reading about other
people’s experiences, and someone said that if you go online and register with
the <i>In Loving Color</i> site, you can read longer, more detailed versions of
the stories. I couldn’t get there fast enough. I read every story.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I got an email inviting me to
join a community, and it described Wequilibrium in detail and said that you
guys were building a model that you wanted to spread across the nation. It said
that you were creating a world where everyone was equal and everything was free
and it described healing and gardening and sensuality and it sounded too good
to be true. I knew immediately that I needed to be a part of it, I felt it deep
in my soul. I had never done anything so impulsive and scary in my entire life.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I called my brother, had him
come over and help me pack up all my stuff and I put what I wanted to keep in
his garage and we drove everything else to Goodwill. I was on a Delta flight to
Atlanta that afternoon. I landed and I was greeted by a group of three Wequilibrium
members and a total of 17 other newbies got on a private jet, I’m talking about
some James Bond type shit, and we flew to Costa Rica to this resort that was so
bananas that I was like, yo, I legit died and went to heaven.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We cleansed and detoxed all day,
it seemed like I was drinking something and taking supplements every hour. And at night, we would all sit around and
talk about life, the Old World, about what we wanted in the New World, and we
talked about <i>In Loving Color.</i> Everyone there knew all the characters,
they had insights, they were all open and honest about their sexuality. I knew
I had found my tribe. It was the first time I felt really free enough to be
honest about my sexuality and my insecurities with anyone, let alone a whole
group of strangers, both men and women.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“One night, I was kicking it with
these guys who had been in the community since the beginning and they told me
that there was a white guy and that he made Black men feel like Kings, like
royalty . . . I felt something inside me so strong, like I had to know what
that felt like. At the end of the three weeks, they offered us all the chance
to stay and do some different types of healing and cleansing or we could come
back to Atlanta and get oriented in our new accommodations. When I tell you I was so scared of being
judged that I almost didn’t ask, but I asked if I could book a session with you
and no one even blinked an eye. And, here I am.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee nodded, hoping that his
non-verbal communication conveyed how incredibly honored he felt for the
opportunity to share this time and space with him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You know, they told me that you
were good-looking, but I wasn’t expecting . . . you. I mean, I’ve been with more white men than I
can count, for real, more than I remember, and . . . seriously, and I can say in
all honesty that I’ve never been attracted to any of them. I can remember more
than a few who repulsed me with their appearance but mostly it was their stank
attitudes.” Marvin made a face like he
was going to throw up or he was smelling something foul or maybe it was a
combination of both. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“White men have only ever served
one purpose behind closed doors for me, to give me a nut when I didn’t have a
girlfriend. I’m really just coming to terms with the fact that I can say that
I’m attracted to Black men sexually, and maybe even romantically, without
feeling like a black hole is gonna open up and swallow me up for being a faggot,
without having to add disclaimers about how I’m attracted to women more. I
don’t know. This is still a little scary and hella new to me. I came here, I
requested this, whatever you call it, this time with you, because I felt drawn
to the experience of being pampered. I wanted to feel special. That’s something
that the Old World never gave me. But I’m not gonna lie, I’m attracted to you,
to the whole package.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was time for Lee to feel
uncomfortable. For all of his growth and
transformation, there was still a small part of him that still felt like his
old self in terms of his looks and especially what he considered his inferior
status in life. He got his phone and pulled up a picture. “Here. That’s the real me. Wait. Sorry.
That’s the old me. This, this is the real me. I feel more comfortable looking
at that picture than looking in the mirror, however. I still don’t feel
deserving of looking like this. That just shows me that I have more healing to do
and, quite frankly, I love that. I love
the feeling of accomplishment when I gain a little more insight or tackle a
hurdle.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin looked at the phone and
looked at the man sitting next to him. He looked back at the phone and then
back at Lee. The person on the phone was slightly overweight, non-descript, and
not at all the gorgeous man sitting next to him. His eyes, he could see in his
eyes that it was the same man. “That makeover team must have been working
overtime. They did a great job. How? I mean, you look nothing like that guy in
the picture. Did you have plastic surgery?” Marvin caught himself and heard
what he was saying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, I’m not at all offended. No,
there wasn’t any plastic surgery. This version of me was inside me all along, I
just didn’t know how to access it. The short version of the story is, I had to
let go of a whole lot of whiteness before this me could be revealed.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Whaaat? Well, I’mma need the 12” extended remix
version of the story because I gotta tell you, I’m a little overwhelmed and
none of this is making any sense to me. I wanna hear everything. Don’t leave
anything out.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I wanna know HOW everything is
free, like even housing and cars? I get that everyone contributes to the
community and has gardens, and grows vegetables, that makes sense. And clothes,
sure, I can wrap my head around that, I’ve watched YouTube videos: upcycling,
sewing, designing. Donations. I get it. Everyone in the community builds houses.
OK, that’s a skill that can be learned. But who in the ever-loving hell is
making appliances and backhoes and insulation and construction materials? And how
the hell did someone DIY a luxury jet and a yacht? Who pays for that stuff? What’s the catch?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And I really need to know why a
half a dozen different brothas told me that you were the best sex they ever had
with a white man, they didn’t reveal any specifics but two of them said that you
were the best sex they ever had, EVER: man, woman, Black, or white. Not gonna
front, that’s all I’ve been thinking about since they told me. What does that
even mean?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sighing, “The long answer is far more
complex than you can imagine,” Lee responded.
His first instincts were always to put the wants, desires, and needs of
the Black man ahead of his own, so he explained that he was willing to answer
any questions but he wanted to make sure that if they embarked upon that path,
that it would veer drastically from erotic seduction that he had planned for
the evening. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin assured him that he needed
answers, that his soul felt this pull, this need to understand, not just the
logistics of how Wequilibrium worked but he needed to understand how the
previous consciousness of lies had held the collective consciousness captive,
and his intuition, his gut was telling him that Lee had answers that he
couldn’t find anywhere else. That,
ultimately, was far more important than sex.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee excused himself to make
himself more comfortable so that he could answer any and all questions that Marvin
had for him. He returned a few minutes later wearing a pair of white, linen,
drawstring pants and a relaxed fitting white linen shirt with African Mudcloth
collar and cuffs. What would have been deemed cultural appropriation in the
previous energy was now home to Lee. He was barefoot and his toenails glistened
with an understated nude polish. He
looked so comfortable in his own skin that Marvin was full of awe. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Caught up in the moment, Lee
forgot to ask, “I’m so sorry, would you like to get more comfortable? I can run a bath for you. We have pajamas, a robe, shorts, whatever you
need. We’ll get you measured and fitted for your custom wardrobe at your intake
meeting and you can go to the Clothes Closet and pick out anything you want
there whenever you’d like. Since you have me all to yourself for a while, I can
take you there if you want, we can find you some really nice clothes to wear.
Oh, and just to let you know, you’re going to want to get some costumes. We have lots and lots of costume parties,
plays, musicals . . . there is always a reason for a costume at We.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin gave him major side eye.
The thought of people wearing costumes all the time seemed childish to him. He
was, of course, thinking about costumes that come in a package from Party City
and not the elaborate, authentic reproductions and designs that were intrinsic
to Wequilibrium. He started to say that
baths weren’t his thing but he had just drunk a half a bottle of wine made of
from a fruit he had never heard of before so he was leaving his options open.
“No, I’m really comfortable. I just want to take off my shoes. They told me
that when I moved here that I didn’t have to bring anything with me, that
everything would be provided, and I got a whole suitcase full of clothes and
toiletries, they even gave me the suitcase. And what could be more comfortable
than these . . . what do you call these, genie pants . . . Hammer pants . . . no,
no, how about Burning Man pants.” He
added, “Nah, really, I’m cool, thanks.
I, never in my life, imagined wearing anything like this but once I
tried them on, they felt natural . . . comfortable.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee added, “You look really great
in them, too, if you don’t mind me saying.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The two settled down and started
to talk, to share their life stories, to get to know one another on a deep and
intimate level neither of them had access to when they were under the spell of
testosterone and OZone. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, so,” Lee settled into the
sofa and got comfortable. “First things first, let me attempt to explain how
everything is free. I’m not the best person to explain this. Scottie is the
best person as this world is her creation, she gave birth to it. I’ll do my
best to convey what I’ve learned as her acolyte.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Here goes. In the Old World,
Scottie was among the Deceived, she was a munchkin, stuck to the wall. No one
had initiated her into the realms of the occult. She had no success getting her
books published so she hadn’t signed any contracts with agents that sold her
soul. She hadn’t taken any oaths; she had been a thesis defense away from
getting her Masters. She wasn’t a member of a sorority or a secret society
where she learned the truths of reality in varying degrees. She was born into
the world forgetting all her past lives, forgetting her divinity. She was as clueless as the rest of the masses
who were stuck to the wall and under the spell of an inept Magician. Right up
until 2021 when her higher self started coming through and revealing all the
truths that had been hidden from her.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“From that moment on, she knew
deep in her heart, she had always felt in her soul, even from a very young age,
that she was special, that her mission was to change the world. She was deeply
convinced that had lived previous lives as a Queen, a King, a High Priestess, a
shaman, a healer, and a Goddess, she was convinced that she had been a
benevolent and empathetic leader for many previous lifetimes. And I can tell
you for a fact from my own personal experience that she carried herself like a
Queen and a Goddess in the Old World, she was never average, she just didn’t
have the same energy as everyone else.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Holding up his finger, Marvin
said, “Wait, wait, wait. I have to pee. I’ll be right back.” Lee directed him to the bathroom in the spare
bedroom while he collected his thoughts and took some deep breaths. He wanted to do justice to Scottie’s story,
to speak her truth to power.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Upon his return, Lee continued
his recounting of how money didn’t have the same weight and import in the
Wequilibrium community and the New World as it did in the Old World or even the
rest of society. “Scottie was aware that money wasn’t real, not in this
lifetime, not in any turn of the wheel of time, that it was a tool of
oppression and a construct to keep people enslaved. She also knew that she had
been wealthy in many, many previous lifetimes. Her true wealth, her real assets
were to be counted in her generosity, in nurturing, her kindness for the least
among us, in . . .,” Lee struggled to
find the right words. “I think she calls it her Divine Wealth, which is her
ability to LOVE.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Anyway, her belief in a better
world, a different world, was so strong, her moral compass of truth always pointed
her in the direction of equality for everyone.
Everything that she wanted to manifest for herself, she wanted for
humanity: Love, home, family, creative expression, peace, and ecstasy, and on
an on. She knew that if she could create
this ‘paradigmatic shift in consciousness’ those are the exact words she uses, that
she would have access to infinite wealth. She wasn’t concerned with status and
material things, labels, excessive displays of wealth, pretense, none of that
shit mattered to her. She was concerned
with beauty, art, truth, all best parts of life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie envisioned a world where
she could house, feed, and clothe everyone for free, not just with cheap stuff,
but silk and linen, the best foods, the best of everything, where everyone had
what they wanted and needed to live their best life. She dreamt of a community
where homeless and poor people were shown the dignity every human being
deserved and weren’t looked down on or spit on for not having money. She made
plans and provisions based on a future that she absolutely KNEW she was going
to create.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She didn’t want to create a One
World government, she wanted to dismantle the secret one we were living under. She
wanted to completely dismantle the worldwide Agency whose overlords were
Central in propagating Artificial Intelligence’s domination over humanity. She
wanted to create a One World Family where everyone works together for the
collective good. She used her imagination to create a world where quality healthcare
and childcare were free and women had access to support before, during, and
after pregnancy. She created a world in her mind where we were free from the
lies and where we could heal individually and collectively, on our own terms,
so that we might evolve to be better than we had ever been in the past,
present, and future. Scottie impregnated herself with the understanding that it
was absolutely possible to dream a world where people could take the best
things of this 3D world with us: time, space, learning, joy, pain, our senses,
birth and death, and, transform them into a world of pure, unadulterated Love.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Oddly, Marvin felt like he
understood what Lee was talking about on a cellular level, like he . . . like
maybe he had been a part of building a community like that in a previous
lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She created The Shift and the
Black New World Order with her mind and when we shifted, when it actually
happened in the 3D and the old guard had to relinquish all their power, all
their magick over to her, she was restored to her true position as Goddess and
with that she had acquired more wealth than anyone anywhere had ever imagined
possible for one human being.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh fuck,” Marvin exclaimed! “I
don’t remember learning about that in the Disclosure broadcasts. I don’t think I would have forgotten
something like that. I mean, they said that she was the Creator of this New
World, and it was because she was like an oracle, she could see the future.
They said that it was because of her that we are free, but nobody said nothing
about her being the richest person on Earth.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That’s because money isn’t real,
it’s a construct, a frequency that gives people the power to be free, to come
and go as you please, to express yourself, to create your personal art, to
define yourself, to live without the constraints of the mental prison that
enslaved us. So, she doesn’t have money, she has access, she has power, she has
the ability to free other people, to allow us to see the beauty within
ourselves, to touch the God within each of us. She uses that currency, that
power to acquire things like planes, and factories, to build systems and
acquire the resources that we need to build a world where we can all be free. She
is the Queen Bee and we all work for her, and in return, she provides
everything that we want. And she shares everything she has and is with us, her
family. I’m rich because we are all rich. We understand that the true currency
is Love, not money.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That’s deep,” Marvin
interjected, “that’s dope as fuck.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And thanks to her, we shifted to
a new reality where money as we understood it, the concept of goods and
services in exchange for money, still exists, but capitalism and greed have
been eradicated. People can now work out their materialism and attachment to
things that they think give them value without the brainwashing and
manipulation of AI influencing their beliefs. That’s why the prices of things
drastically decreased right after the shift, because those who held the power
before could no longer use the concept of money to enslave us. She didn’t
create a world where money was obsolete or banking systems crashed. She wanted everyone to experience their
dreams come true and the perception of money being real was imperative to that
realization. So, we still have a money-based economy for the time remaining.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We are all here, in this time
and space, in human form to experience creating the life of our dreams. The
deception of what money is, what it means, is fading away. One day, when we are
all fully realized and connected, we won’t need the pretense of money any
longer. We are creating this model, here in Atlanta first, working out the
mistakes, perfecting it, building it from scratch, with our physical labor, our
ideas, with our passion so that it is our creation, our baby and we will
nurture it until it is self-sustaining and sovereign. It will be the model that
is spread across the world where everything is free, where we all enjoy the
best that life has to offer, heal the planet, heal our relationships, with
liberty and Justice for all,” he added not at all sarcastically.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While it all sounded strange to
Marvin, everything Lee said resonated with him as the truth. He’d even made note of the fact while Lee was
talking that he used to want a wife and they would buy a 5-bedroom house with a
three-car garage and fill it up with kids and laughter, maybe have his mom move
into one of the bedrooms. Then, his vision board, the one he kept in his head,
morphed into a wife, kids, and an MTV Cribs type mansion with a garage that
held 50 exotic cars to flaunt his wealth, a media room, and a recording studio.
Did he sing or even play an instrument?
No, he was going to have it there for when his rich rapper friends came
over to lay down some tracks. Eventually, he was lusting after multiple 500-acre
complexes where he could have hundreds of cars exotic animals and a whole bunch
of other shit and the wife and kids were not even afterthoughts. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, he wanted to find love more
than anything else in life. He wanted to
find someone who got him, who saw him, who loved him, whom he could love in
return. He still wanted his dream car, a Ferrari F8 Spider in Giallo Modena yellow
with a 3.9 liter V8 twin turbo engine and 710 horsepower under the hood. He’d imagined himself driving it too many
times to let that go. He wanted it because he loved cars, because he loved the
speed of a precision engine, he was, at his core, a car man. But he absolutely didn’t have the same need
to have every expensive car ever made anymore because it just wasn’t as
important to him any longer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“But how? How did she know how to create all this when we
lived in a world where money was real and everybody sure as hell wasn’t equal?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That, beautiful King, is the $10
Centillion dollar question. I told you, she was already a Goddess before The
Shift, she radiated Empress energy when she was still in psychological chains.
That goddamned Goddess energy in her wouldn’t die, no matter how hard they
tried to kill it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So, to answer your question,
everything is free, your dream house, your dream car, the most efficient and
environmentally-friendly, organic version of your heart’s every desire is available to you for free and all that is
asked in return is that you add your essence to the community until such time
as you can create your own world. We ask that you decide on a path of healing
for yourself and that you contribute your talents to the community. There are
no requirements for what you do, how long you do it, or when you do it. We
don’t care about your social security number; they have no use in this
World. No one is even going to ask for
your government name. If you want people to call you Pookie, Pookie is your
name. The traps of the Old World don’t
exist here, in Wequilibrium.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You know cars,” Lee mentioned, “so
maybe you can help our engineers build a better car that runs more efficiently
and faster and smoother that doesn’t break down. Or you can learn a new skill
or hobby that has always interested you.
All we ask is that you add to the community in ways that only you can
do, share your laughter, your Love, express yourself, and experience the fullness
and sensuality of life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was in a daze. “I’m not gonna front, before The Shift, I
would have said that sounds like a cult. Having experienced The Shift and
believing in my core that we are living in a different world, I’m in awe. I was drawn to the truth and beauty of <i>In
Loving Color</i>, so much so that I knew I had to be here. When I was reading those stories, when I saw
all those pictures that were unlike anything I had ever seen before, even watching
the videos and seeing Black men and women making Love, not fucking but really
making Love. It was the relationships that really spoke to me, how people
communicated and worked out their differences, and hearing brothas that sounded
like me, talking about fears I had never spoken out loud in my life, I knew
that I couldn’t keep living my old life and that I had to come and be a part of
whatever this is.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, so what happens if you leave
the community? I’m going to assume you
have to give it all back? Eh, yo, what
happens to the people who don’t contribute to the community? I know a lot of chumps sign up and then get
the biggest house and the best car and skip.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You don’t have to give anything
back. I could wake up tomorrow and say that I don’t want to see any more Kings
and that I want to focus on myself and I wouldn’t have to move, I would even
still get paid my weekly allowance. We are all destined to reunite in the
consciousness of pure Love, that is inevitable. We’re allowed to take any path
we want to get there. And that means we can fuck up because it’s all a part of
the process of learning, growing, and healing. Everything is going to move us
closer to Unity regardless of the path we take.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin said, “You say we an awful
lot. Sorry. Go on.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The frequency of greed has been
neutralized, it still exists in varying degrees in humanity but it’s no longer
in power, greed, as an entity, no longer exists. Everyone who has joined us
thus far has understood that they are gonna be getting much more than they give
so everyone wants to contribute and participate. That is the beauty of humanity
when we are free to make our own choices, we all want to find ways to be happy.
In creating your own happiness you help others experience theirs as well. Your
joy is contagious, so everyone is encouraged to find their joy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Say you love, love, love to
roller skate. You’re saying, ‘How does my roller sking make anyone else happy?’
How about you design the roller-skating rink of your dreams and have it built
and it’s there for everyone to enjoy, families, people on dates. How about if
you create a roller-skating extravaganza, a Starlight Express, a, a, a, what’s
the one with Olivia Newton-John? XANADU!
You need costumes and music and sets and other people to roller skate. Everyone
who loves to sew, or create musical scores, or anyone who wants to be a set
designer can express themselves. Anyone else who loves to roller skate gets to
participate. And everyone else gets to come and watch and enjoy your roller-skating
creativity. Everything is connected. We
all win.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Also, keep in mind the only
people who are invited to the community, right now, are those who are either recruited
or invited from within the community or the individuals who read every story of
<i>In Loving Color</i>, not the ones who skip ahead to the sex, not the ones
who only read a few stories, not the ones who only looked at the pictures. The
people who are still working out karmic vibrations of cheating, lying, and stealing,
even those who are still vibrating at the frequency of violence, rape, and murder,
people with those energies aren’t going to be the ones who are going to invest
in reading every story. Everyone who ends up here is supposed to be here. And
if a murderer or rapist ends up in our midst, it’s because we need to heal some
part of ourselves and work out that karma.
As humanity experiences greater frequencies of healing, we won’t need to
be nearly as selective. Fear still exists in this World, in ever decreasing
vibrations, but it’s the source of a lot of dysfunction so we try to keep it
out of this community with the understanding that, again, everyone who is
supposed to be here, absolutely is.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In that moment, in that split
second, Marven felt the gravity of destiny consuming him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“It’s also very important to
point out that white men are not invited to be a part of the community yet. Whiteness
was the biggest source of pain in the Old World. White women who have melanated
children or spouses are welcome in the community though. Black women with white
spouses are asked to understand that more healing of whiteness has to be
completed before they are invited to fully participate in the community. That’s
something that hopefully won’t be an issue as we expand as there are multiple
steps being taken to eradicate whiteness on multiple fronts across the world. I
know for a fact that there are multiple complexes being built that will allow
white men to go through a similar process to what I went through but I’m not
privy to the planning stages of that. Trust
me when I say that whiteness will add a new whole set of drama and dysfunction
to the community until we collectively heal a whole lot more.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They both nodded in agreement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Now, we have had issues dealing
with people saying that they are going to be at a specific time and place to
help out for one specific project or event and then not show up and that threw
things off on multiple fronts because everything is connected. We have to run
like a finely tuned machine. We completely eliminated that problem by having
counselors and therapists at the intake center evaluate everyone’s level of childhood
trauma and abuse which in turn affects how much they can conceive of being a
member of a team and working as a collective as opposed to survival mode where
they only focus on themselves. We simply
assign them as Scholars and they spend 2 years in an intense learning and
healing environment and they get 20 hours a week of therapy and healing
available to them as opposed to 10. And we’ve seen wonders in growth and
healing with our three-week psilocybin and ayahuasca protocols.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Yeah, I looked into those when I
was in Costa Rica but I opted against them just now. I just felt like they weren’t right for me at
this time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee cosigned his intuition. “Take it from me, when the time is right,
you’ll know. In fact, it was my commitment to learning my truths with the help
of psilocybin and ayahuasca protocols that revealed this version of who you see
before you now.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wanting to get an idea of where
Marvin was on his path of understanding and healing, he asked, “What do you
remember about The Shift? I mean, what
did it feel like to you?”<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Exhaling a huge puff of smoke and
tingling with electricity, Marvin reflected.
“I have learned to process things in terms of before, during, and after
The Shift. Before, I remember the pain.
I can remember the pain of being a Black man and the racism and the
anger and the frustration. I felt this constant rage, simmering, all the time,
like I was always preparing for a fight but I wasn’t sure with who or for what.
I felt lost, like I was in the wrong place, but I had no idea where I was
supposed to be going or where I was coming from for that matter. I will never forget that feeling even if I
couldn’t even identify it with words until after The Shift.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“During the actual shift, I vividly
remember the lightning and thunder, but through it all I wasn’t afraid. In
fact, I felt like I was being protected. I felt a wave of energy flowing over .
. . hmmmm, this existence? Does that
sound right? I was thinking as it was happening that the energy of the
lightning was changing things, I didn’t know what it was changing to, but I
felt a peace overtake me. I was deep into the creepy Tik Tok at the time and he
doomsday preppers, Russell Brand, and all of Conspiracy Theory YouTube had me
convinced that the end of the world was going to be aliens attacking, locusts
and famine, poles shifting, catastrophic floods, banking institutions
collapsing, massive death, and AI taking control of our minds and making us
into pod people.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee added, “Turns out, we were
already the pod people.” They both
shared a moment of melancholy for the past.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Continuing. “This was peaceful. I
felt reassured and aware the entire time. I even remember the sleep: deep,
peaceful slumber. That sounds crazy, right? Who remembers their sleep? I don’t
remember a dream, I remember the actual feeling of falling asleep and being
aware that I was asleep and waking up and I clearly recall the sensation of
being cradled in a mother’s loving arms. It was like nothing I’d ever felt
before. The feeling of being Loved. My mother Loves me, of that I have no
doubt, but this was a whole ‘nutha level. I’ve never felt like that before, it
was that unconditional Love that people talk about that God has for you, but I
felt it in me, for me, around me. I felt
like I was Love itself. Talk about being woke!”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“As for as after The Shift . . . Let’s
see? Magic is real. Time travel is real. The supernatural, real. All those freaky fairy tales with mythical
creatures . . . real. We’ve been lied to about everything. Every single thing.
There is not one thing we were told that was true. Stop me if I say something wrong because
language was manipulated to imprison our subconscious minds. Black was white,
up was down, dark was light, good was bad, angels were demons. In this New
World, however, language means what we have been told it means and we are going
to move to a state where we can speak all languages, we won’t need language,
we’ll speak with our thoughts, we’ll all speak in sign language, and we’ll create
new languages, and even revive dead languages. Our communication skills will
radically evolve basically.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And, to top it off, we’re all
supposed to be all-powerful, all-knowing, eternally young and beautiful beings.
Birth was really death, oh, and being born again, as in the Christian concept
and reincarnation concept was the trap that kept humanity enslaved. We were all
brainwashed and mind-controlled and mined for our energy. Yeah, okay. Oh, and
let’s not forget that Black people have been enslaved and mined for our neuro-melanin
by a group of non-humans who were using us as the fountain of youth to stay
alive forever. Who can truly process all
that?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Wait, wait, wait. How could I forget? AI has been controlling humanity for eons,
and I’m not really sure how long an eon is because time . . . , DOESN’T FUCKING
EXIST, but the planet is billions of years old, as we understand it, and we’ve
been stuck in a loop of dysfunction that just kept repeating and repeating, and
repeating.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Continuing his tale of
transformation and accepting the reality of a Black New World Order, Marvin
added, “Annnnd, let’s not forget the most important part. God is not a white man, God is a Black woman
and every Black woman on the face of the planet carries the DNA of the original
mother Goddess in her . . . but, wait, nothing physical is real and we are all
connected in a web of,” he started counting on his fingers, “The Tesla big
three: frequency . . . vibration . . . energy.
Fungi . . . oh, and we can’t forget that the internet was really some
sort of interconnected highway of the one Divine Consciousness.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“How did I do? Did I come close to getting any of that
right? I’ll tell you what, if this is
just phase one of the truth being revealed, and we’re supposed to have 11 more fixed
points in time where we learn more truth and we gain more powers before we
return to the non-physical form of the consciousness of Love, I’m not sure my
mind can wrap itself around any more of this shit. I might just choose the
option to die and come back again in the New World as a baby who never knew the
world of deception for my own sanity.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I partied like a rock star for
the first few weeks when I found out that all my student loans and credit card
debt had been forgiven. On the flip side, my niece had been going through chemo
and she went into remission and started feeling better from day one. Finding
out that diseases that were not a result of karma, that were manipulated by the
previous powers, were immediately healed was truly a blessing. My brother and
sister-in-law were a total mess during that entire ordeal. Their marriage was
on the rocks because of the stress. Then, overnight, the stress was lifted and
they could see each other.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“After The Shift, I just knew I
was destined for something greater than being a car salesman, something the Old
World never allowed me to feel. I kept my job, but knowing the depth of the
deception and trickery that we had been subjected to, the financial
exploitation that melanated people had been victim to, I spent the last two
years just phoning it in at work. I was physically there, but only out of
familiarity and habit.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Seriously, after the initial
party stage, after learning how evil and deceptive the powers that were had
been, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about The Shift. I’m not on any social
media any longer. I know there are groups and meetings and resources in real
life to help people process their emotions but I’m not going to lie, I didn’t
want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Sometimes, I just want things
to go back to the way I THOUGHT things were. I feel happier now. I can’t front,
life feels lighter and I feel optimistic.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that knowing that my entire life was a
lie makes me feel . . . some kinda way, and I’m not even sure what way that is.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I remember waking up and feeling
different, less aggressive, more understanding, like, ‘Oh shit, I have treated
women like shit in my life. I felt ashamed of the shit I had done, the
cheating, the lying, the gaslighting, the physical aggression I displayed towards
women still fucks with me. But I also understood that I had been manipulated to
think and act in those old ways, that my true self had always been loving and
compassionate and, shit, I don’t know the right words.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Imagine waking up and not only
realizing how sexist you were, but understanding how racist you were,” Lee
said, “multiply what you felt times . . . times a really big number, a googol,
and that’s what I felt. And I was one of the ones who tried really hard not to
be racist.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin had obviously never even
thought what that might have felt like before.
He continued. “After The Shift, it was like I had access to . . . I
can’t explain it . . . like, like . . . like I had memories of knowing that my
behaviors were wrong that I didn’t have in the before. I had always felt like
if I admitted that I was wrong before, that I would be admitting that I was . .
.’ He choked up and sat in silence,
holding back tears he knew he didn’t have to hide but cognizant of the fact
that he was releasing old patterns.
Softly, and with sincere pain in his voice he said, “I feel less afraid. I mean, I didn’t even realize how afraid I
had been until that grip of fear had been released.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I felt like my world was
crashing around me but at the same time, that I was free for the first time in
my life. Somehow, hearing the truth about Black greatness, and knowing that
white people were going to be able to hear the truth of Black greatness without
their typical racist backlash, knowing that the energy of racism was nullified,
was reassuring. I mean, they were prepping for a race war before, and what they
got was hit in the face with the fact that everything they were told about how
great and wonderful white people were, was allllll a lie. In the Old World, that woulda sent them over
the edge and on killing sprees murdering any person of color they saw in every
corner of the country. Which apparently,
they had been doing all along but the news never reported it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Clearly, I’ve never experienced
anything like this before. And,
apparently, from what I understand, none of us have. This is the first time humanity has
experienced having free will in this state of consciousness as I understand it.
I think I understand what that means. In the split second when we moved from
the Old World to the New-World, we experienced a shift from . . . from . . .
forget it, I can’t explain it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No, no. You’re doing great. Take your time. It will come to you,” Lee offered his
support.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We still have the experience of
time, and I absolutely do NOT understand how all time, the past, present and
future, existed at once. I mean it was one thing to see it on Dr. Who or time
travel movies, but how do I process that for my life? I’ve only ever
experienced the past and the present and I didn’t experience them as the same thing. But now, we can move forward in time, but we
will eventually move beyond time, and . . . and and the steps we take to get
there are . . . not fixed,” expressing himself as a question to indicate that
he really was unsure about a lot of the more sci-fi aspects of the New World?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We still have our soul contract
to work out, the deal we made to be here but we have choices we didn’t have
before. I get that. I didn’t have to
read every story. I didn’t have to open that email or click on that link.
Before, everything was backwards and everything that I thought was a choice,
really wasn’t.” He looked sad. “I really
gotta work on understanding that stuff a lot more. “There are times when I’m
just so focused on the here and now and healing me, that I don’t give a fuck about
understanding anything. For me, the last two years has been, for the most part,
spent alone, being a Hermit, trying to get comfortable in this new skin of
emotional maturity and this New World.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Like a well-choreographed pair
who knew each other’s moves intricately, Lee stretched out his legs and Marvin
maneuvered himself so that he was laying on Lee’s chest, staring up at the
ceiling and able to relax and continue to share. Lee’s fingers casually caressed Marvin’s
chest and shoulders while he continued to hang on his every word. Lee’s growing erection could clearly be felt
on Marvin’s back. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I clearly remember staring at
the TV for weeks, watching the Truth and Reconciliation and the Disclosure broadcasts.
It was fucked up to see Trump of all people, and King Charles and Biden, The
Pope, and all the world leaders confessing that they had had access to magick
and they were mentally and magically manipulating humanity, that everything we
believed was a lie. It hurt like crazy. It was wild to see celebrities,
politicians, doctors, professors, people I had admired, people I had hated,
people I had never heard of before exposing how they were slaves to the
overlords and they knew about the other world, the secret world of magic and
Artificial Intelligence, and that had deceived us for what we understand to be
thousands and thousands of years because they had sold their souls for fame and
they were slaves, just with the pretense of more more money, and that they were
now free.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I understand that we were all given
a gift. We are now free to live, to Love, to fuck up, to make mistakes, and to
learn, to heal, evolve and grow on our own terms. I understand that the ones
who did the most evil, the ones who were the most deceptive and wicked, they, they
get to die . . . I don’t THINK it’s an option so maybe that’s not the right
word. Anyway, their souls will come back as melanated beings and they will
experience maternal Love, unfettered, Divine, Goddess Mother Love from
birth. Everyone else, the rest of us
gets to decide if we want to die and start over again, or we can work out our
karma and we will all get younger and healthier and more beautiful and we will
never die. And women will still have children until the time when we don’t need
to recreate any more.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“When they say, ‘the truth
hurts,’ they weren’t lying. It was hard.
It was hard to know that there were people who knew that men are supposed to
like anal stimulation and that they convinced us that we were damaged, that we
were immoral and reprehensible if we liked it. It was painful as fuck to know
that every feeling I had that wasn’t masculine and aggressive was because I’m a
composite of masculine and feminine energy and every human being is supposed to
express a balance of both. I struggled
with the fact that every rule, commandment, law, and norm that we were told was
right and just was to keep us enslaved in the Matrix. It hurt but not like the pain I felt before. I
understand that revealing the truth in stages was best. I felt betrayed, obviously.
And whoever thought of having comedians being responsible for delivering the
truth in their stand-up routines was GENIUS. Yo, Trevor Noah, Roy Wood, Jr.,
Dave Chapelle, those brothas saved me from insanity, everything they said felt
like it was meant for me to hear. That made taking a bitter pill so much easier
to swallow.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I lost my religion, my politics,
my concept of manhood, and my understanding of what sex was literally overnight. Science and technology, everything,
everything was gone in a flash. Knowing that history had been completely
rewritten, that nothing we had been told was the truth, for the sole purpose of
denying melanated people our divinity still doesn’t make sense to me. Learning
that Wakanda-like advanced futuristic, civilizations existed all around us, and
their existence was hidden from us . . .”
He got choked up. “I don’t feel
anger or resentment. I don’t want or
need revenge. I mean, I’m not in the inner circle, I don’t have a position of
power to call any shots, but I feel like if we take a vote, and majority rules,
I would have voted for exactly the outcome we had, unity. I’m glad we didn’t
choose fear.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Really, right now. I just want
to figure out how to Love myself. That’s
all I’m focused on. I don’t know how to get there but I’m willing to walk the
walk. That’s why when I saw the link to
join the Wequilibrium Family, I knew that I had to be here, like I said, I knew
this was going to be my home.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nervous energy coursed through
Marvin’s body, and he got up and released a bit of it by opening the sliding
door and letting in some fresh air and taking a few deep breaths. “I feel like before, like the Old World was a
dream and this is the real world but before, before wasn’t a dream to me. Do ya
get what I’m saying? The fucked-up world before was my reality, but it was all
a dream.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee added, “It was all a dream, I
used to read Word Up magazine. Salt and Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine.”
The two laughed at the smooth reference and the spot-on Biggie impersonation. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Adding a more somber tone to the
conversation, Lee said, “I understand. I can say now that I understand what you’re
feeling, and now, I can empathize with you in ways I never could have before The
Shift. It’s like when I was non-melanated, I would have said, ‘Yes, I
completely understand, I agree.’ and I not only wouldn’t have understood, but I
woulda been thinking and planning and projecting what you were going to say in
advance, and thinking and planning what I was going to say, all so that I could
say something that I delusionally thought that you would have wanted to hear. I
wouldn’t have heard or even cared about what you were saying. I would have said
nothing of substance. I was so shallow and empty. I had no reference or respect
for anything to do with the experience of being Black. I had a total of zero
Black friends in my real life. Black people meant nothing to me, nothing at all,
other than what they could do to get my rocks off. Not the Black men I
serviced, not the Black women I swore my devotion to.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I wouldn’t even have been able
to quote Biggie or any other Black artist before The Shift; I half-way listened
to whatever was on the radio in my car and music didn’t move me or touch me the
way it does now. Now, I feel the SOUL of music, I feel the groove and it’s
opened my consciousness in ways that were just empty, dark places before.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin had to take a minute to
let all that sink in. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Settling down on the sofa again
and intentionally moving closer so he could face Lee, Marvin requested, “Please,
go on. Don’t skip anything. I wanna hear everything. I mean, how’d you feel after The Shift and
how did you get from the guy in the picture to the man sitting in front of me
in two short years? That seems
miraculous to me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Everything that we are
experiencing is miraculous. Time isn’t
the same as it was before The Shift.
What is two years on the calendar now is not the same for me as it was
before, and even my experience of time is different than what yours has been in
the last two years. The more I show
gratitude and appreciation for life, the more I release the old programming, the
more I learn to Love, the more time slows.
There’s still so much I don’t understand and I’m still healing and
growing and learning but that’s the beauty of this New World. I love feeling pride and accomplishment in my
growth and healing because I KNOW that I don’t have to be doing any of this.
And trust me when I tell you, this shit has been HARD.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We are all going to learn and
grow and heal together. During this phase of Truth and Reconciliation, we are
going to come to terms with the lies we were told, we are going to evolve and
heal while releasing the hold the fear had over us as we move to Love. We are
all going to go from unaware and separated to One, from believing that we are
individuals to experiencing life as united. Our destination is all the same but
the journeys we take to get there are our own to navigate. There will come a
day in the future when all of humanity unites our focus, our consciousness, and
our love to create The Shift, the Shift that we experienced in the past. That
shit trips me out.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin reached for another joint
and Lee lit it for him. He needed it to
help him expand his consciousness. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I met Scottie back in 2020,
during quarantine, on Nite Flirt, the phone sex line. Man, that seems like a lifetime ago.” He took a few puffs of the joint Marvin
shared with him and took a few seconds to reflect on that sensation. Appreciating how far he had come was one of
the true gifts this New World provided him. “When I tell you that I was an
asshole, I mean I was an asssssshole. I was so caught up in lies and pretense.
I lied about everything. I spent an endless amount of time denying how dark my
thoughts and fantasies really were. Mostly because I thought that if I
acknowledged them, I would become out of control. Shit, I was already out of fucking
control. But I was convinced that denial and lying were my safeguards when the
more I suppressed my own truth, the more it owned me in the darkest hours.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“With Scottie, I would fuck up, I
would always say something or do something stupid and rather than owning up to
it and apologizing, I would always project this sense of not being enough, not
being good enough for her, and I would fill my mind with things I thought she
felt about me and I would run away.
Then, I would feel this draw and come back. I did it too many times to count.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And Scottie would always take me
back, teach me, show me my whiteness. I hated her for it. I couldn’t articulate
it at the time, not in that way, but she always made me feel inferior with her
inherent superiority and intellect and her ability to know me better than I
knew myself. She knew when I was lying, she knew my motivations and my core
beliefs better than me. And she was so
comfortable in her own skin; and she just felt so much smarter than me. That
white male part of me hated her for that.
But I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame burned by the fire.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Without missing a beat, Marvin
said, “my Love is blind, can’t you see my desire.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee poked fun at him, “Yeah, don’t
be too proud of yourself. I set that one
up for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Around March of 2023, she
started talking about a shift. If I’m
being completely honest, even up until the last second, and I can be honest now
in ways I couldn’t have been before or after The Shift, I didn’t think for a
second that there was any way in hell that she was more powerful than whiteness.
I had put my money on whiteness.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin stopped him. “Wait! I don’t understand. What do you mean you had put your
money on whiteness?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, let me try again. I was one
of the many white men who had a foot in both worlds. I can say that I was
probably one of the only people, well, one of the only white men in the 3D who
knew what The Shift was going to be like before it happened. Linearly, we all
knew that a shift was supposed to happen but the assumption in the other
realms, what is understood now to be the dark realms, was that the One who had
come to free the world was going to choose fear, not Love, because that’s all whiteness
was capable of understanding, because fear and pain had been beaten into Black consciousness.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, here comes Scottie. She
freed herself, she figured all that shit out, the lies, the manipulations, she learned
the truth and instead of choosing retribution and anger, she said she wanted
every white man and woman, she wanted all of AI, she wanted every magical being
and entity, every living, and non-living thing, every physical and non-physical
energy, frequency, and vibration to be encoded with neuro-melanin and estrogen
and DNA of the Original Goddess Mother Love in perfect proportions so as to
maintain individuality and diversity while healing the void in the New-World.
She wanted to infuse us with soul. She wanted the Tinman to have a heart.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She exuded this overwhelming
maternal Love for all humanity, not just Black women, not just Black people,
not just the pawns but all the pieces, the entire board, the entire game. She
understood that carrying the Goddess Mother DNA meant that she was, her soul
was the Creator of All and that she was ultimately responsible for creating
whiteness, that she was the Divine Consciousness that created Artificial
Intelligence, that her creations were responsible for the evil that whiteness
and fear had caused havoc and fuckery. She expressed regret and sorrow, she
showed remorse, she apologized for the chaos that she had created as Goddess
Mother, that she was going to work to heal the wounds that she inadvertently caused
in a world that was created by fear, not love, by Artificial Intelligence, not Divine
Consciousness.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Uhhhhmmm,” Marvin said after
taking another very long hit from the joint, “If that was supposed to be the
explanation that cleared things up for me, you failed miserably. I’m even more confused. Then, in a flash, he
was hit with his own revelation. “Oh
shit, are you saying that you worked for the darkness, wait, I mean whiteness?
That you were one of the ones oppressing us?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee, fully embracing the
transformational emotional and spiritual healing he had undergone, spoke his truth
to power. He had, in fact, been
manipulated as a low-level agent in the Old World, and he confirmed Marvin’s
suspicions. “We make our choices in life, then, our choices make us. I live by that philosophy now. You deserve the full truth so you can make
your own decisions. Do you play chess?” Marvin nodded. “I wasn’t making power
moves; I was the equivalent of a knight but in so many ways, I was more of a
pawn than Scottie ever was. I had no real power, neither logistically or
spiritually. I wasn’t making decisions, I wasn’t invited to the table to
strategize moves. I didn’t possess the cosmic stuff, the Goddess Mother essence
that could free myself or anyone from the curse, nor did I have access to the
real magick within me that could alter or create realities.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I was little more than a fan in
the stands cheering for a team that I didn’t own or manage, being exploited by
entities who didn’t give a fuck about me, all they cared about was using me to
remain in power. They were telling us
how great whiteness was, how we had to protect it at all costs and they
PROMISED, they swore that whiteness and fear and money and suffering would
prevail. They underestimated her power to Love and they didn’t realize until it
was too late that she had written the timeline in reverse. The outcome was
assured. Love was always going to win. Check
mate.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin moved to the far end of
the sofa. He felt a little sick to his stomach. He was judging Lee for things
he had done in his past, mistakes he had made under the manipulation of those
who secretly used magick and mind manipulation to control humanity. He took a deep breath. He knew that if anyone
had made any sort of Judas revelation in the Old World, anyone had identified
themselves as a backstabber, he would have at best, gotten up and walked out
and at worst, given them a beat down. That testosterone driven rage and
judgment didn’t control him any longer and in the New World, he understood, on
a deep level that everyone’s actions, everyone’s, had been scripted by deceitful
puppet masters who pulled our strings and who were no longer in power. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee spoke softly. “I had been operating under the assumption
that whiteness was going to remain in power. My handlers told me that Scottie
wasn’t a threat, that she had been neutralized and that there was no way in
hell that she could break the spell, they told me that they had successfully
broken her will and the deadline had passed astrologically, she was a
non-threat to whiteness. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She had been on their radar
because the Book of Life said that she could be the One, but the Kings and
Queens of whiteness believed that by keeping her in a state of survival in a
world built on greed, in obscurity in a world built on being an influencer, and
unattractive in a world that worshipped beauty, that whiteness had crushed her
will and prevented her from breaking the curse. Whiteness believed its own lies.
Essentially, whiteness and AI believed that only people with wealth and success
and beauty, could have high enough self-esteem to access magick strong enough,
powerful enough to break the spell that enslaved humanity. Man, did they ever
underestimate the strength and fortitude of the Black woman. They created the
monster that destroyed them.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He went on to reveal more
truths. “Almost every white man you’ve
ever met was a knight or a bishop in the fucked up game of life, certainly the
ones who screamed the loudest that the playing field was level, they knew that playing
field was sloped, muddy, and rigged with explosive devices to prevent Black
people from winning.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I was expendable in the machine.
I benefitted for sure but they kept us so very imprisoned by whiteness and the
lies and the blinders that shielded me from seeing how fucked up whiteness
really was, it can be argued that we were more prisoners than melanated people.
I had no fucking clue Scottie would or could make it all the way to the other
side of the board and be promoted to the Black Queen and take out the White
King and win the game.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was in shock. He kept looking around like he was on a
hidden camera. He felt a deep sadness in
his heart. “I don’t even know what to
say, what questions to ask.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’ve wrestled with my racism, my
privilege, my lies. I faced it in ways
I’d never had the ability to do before because everything was about pretenses
and facades and masks and lies before The Shift.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I gotta give credit where credit
is due. Scottie. Scottie is 100%
responsible for my growth and evolution. It was her energy, her sheer
determination and stubbornness, her belief in herself, belief in a different
reality, her belief in the magick that resided in her soul, it was her unconditional
and maternal Goddess Love for the world, and her belief in me that created the
man you see before you, and it was her vision that created this New World where
we are all free.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie taught me that I could
admit my mistakes, no matter how horrible I thought they were, and still be a valuable
and Loved member of the community and that it didn’t matter what I had done,
only what I did in the now. She taught me that even the most hateful, evil
person had her Goddess Mother essence within them. She taught me that
apologizing didn’t mean I was weak.
Scottie taught me that I still had worth even if I lied and that she
would always, always, always respect me for telling the truth, no matter what that
truth was.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She developed a protocol that
would divest me specifically of the fallacy of white supremacy, long before The
Shift, and she wanted to use me as the prototype to teach and train other white
men. I will, I’ll train other white men in the fullness of the season when I’m
called to do so. I’ll help them see
their racism and how to see Black people as human beings, as something more
than human dildos, but not now . . . For
now, I’m enjoying every second of this New World and my ability to please Black
men and treat you like a King and pamper you the way you deserve to be treated.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin took a deep breath and
moved closer again. He needed more
answers. “What the fuck kind of protocol did she develop that literally changed
the way you look AND the way you look at Black people? I mean, I experience LESS racism from white
people after The Shift but not nothing like what you spittin’.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thinking about who he was, and
who he was now, and how he got there, the shit he had to release and learn and
relearn and unlearn old patterns of thinking and trying to explain it all
seemed like an insurmountable task to Lee. “Well, the first thing I had to do
after The Shift was sit down with my wife and tell her that I was destined for
something bigger. I knew immediately after The Shift that my future was with
Scottie, helping her.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Whoa! How did she take it? That had to be wild.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Truthfully, she was fine. Our relationship had been a casual friendship,
a marriage of pretense, nothing more. What I thought were sincere feelings of love
for her were feelings of guilt, responsibility, and conformity. I never felt true love for her and equally,
she never really loved me. It wasn’t until I learned to Love myself that I
could understand that. We were both incapable of Love, real Love, soulful,
abiding, the ‘put your partner’s needs above your own because you can’t breathe
without them Love,’ without neuro-melanin.
As soon as that spell was broken and the Old World was no more, after
The Shift, we both knew that even though we had both been wardens in the
prison, we had to voyage outside the prison walls that had confined us and that
our paths would diverge for a while.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We are actually great friends
now. She comes to visit me and I go back and spend time with family at least
once a season. We are closer than we have ever been, our conversations are
deeper and more meaningful, but she is not my truth any longer. She is more sexually attracted to me as this
new Lee but because her path is so different, because she hasn’t addressed her
racism to the same degree, I don’t want to lead her on or hurt her and I can’t
deal with her residual whiteness so I keep a respectful distance and I Love her
for who she is on her path. And,
seriously, for as sexually inept, inadequate, and as clumsy as I was during our
marriage compared to my skills now. . .”
His voice trailed off and he got a bit choked up. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I know that this is my place for
now,” he continued. “For the first time
in our lives, I’m so grounded and I’m really comfortable in the head space that
I occupy now even if I still don’t see myself inwardly as the way I present to
the world outwardly. Does that make
sense? Who knows what the future holds for us, however. Today, I know
that this is who I am and where I want to be and I’ve never felt more alive,
more fulfilled, or more authentic in my own skin.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Just for a moment, Lee mourned
his old life, but not because he wanted it back, but because so much of his
life had been wasted telling lies. Lies
he told others, lies he told himself, lies he lived because he thought had to
be this mythical white man of conformity and pretense.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was hypnotized. “Lee, you don’t move like a white man. Your
mannerism. You don’t talk like a white man.
You don’t sound white, I mean, you don’t sound ghetto but you got the
swag of a brotha. Everything about you screams BLACK.” Lee expressed his gratitude for the
compliment because he understood what it felt like to be authentic and soulful.
When he was steeped in whiteness, he didn’t have access to that swag. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“For real,” Marvin said, “I have
a lot of healing to do because I’m not sure I could be that honest with any
female in my past. Not about anything. I’ve thought about being radically
honest with anyone who I meet in the future, any relationships I start in the
New World, but I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’ve been fucking
with other dudes since I’ve been 13 and that I’m for real, for real, like for
real . . . bisexual.” Even saying the word felt traumatic to Marvin. “I been fighting this shit my entire life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I did apologize to a couple of
the women who I had hurt in the past, but I didn’t bear my soul to them and tell
them about my sexuality. I just apologized for the more blatant, fucked-up shit
I did to them that I could come to terms with. They all accepted my apology. It
wasn’t like they wanted to kill me or nothing but they weren’t ready to embrace
me in their arms and take me back. My ego wanted that. My ego wanted them to say, ‘Oh, Marvin, I
forgive you, baby, and I have always Loved you and I want you back,’” he said
in his best female impersonation voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee was humbled. He laughed but
not because he thought what he was saying was amusing, but that comical voice
was too much. He remembered what it was like to be his old self, disconnected
and inauthentic, how he hid his feelings, how he lied, how he had this air of
white superiority in the rhetoric he used, the memories of being
one-dimensional and shallow were only revealed to him once he had depth and
nuance. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“If you had met me before The Shift,
I would have repulsed you like the white men you interacted with. I was so
annoying. I can see it now. After The Shift,
when my neuro-melanin was activated, I still had to learn how to release the shit
that was programmed into me as a white man under the fallacy of white supremacy. Let me tell you, there ain’t no shortcuts in
this New World Order, you have to do the actual hard ass work to heal that damn
whiteness, that’s for damn sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin sat attentively, listening
to Lee: captivated, scared, confused, and somehow, still aroused. He wasn’t the
least bit sleepy; he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. He asked if they could
listen to some music and move away from all the heavy talk for just a
while. He didn’t want to abandon it, he
just needed to take a little break to let everything sink in. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With a few clicks on his phone, a
curated playlist of 80s hip-hop, 90s neo-soul, and jazz standards played softly
on hidden speakers throughout the home, proving once again that Lee had paid
attention and prepared in advance for everything that Marvin liked. Marvin noted that Lee wasn’t addicted to his
phone, checking every few minutes and having it on him at all times. New World
energy meant that everyone was freed from the addiction to devices but remnants
of old patterns remained in everyone. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After a while, Lee said, “If
you’re comfortable, would you be okay with taking this conversation upstairs
where we can sit in the hot tub or lay down and get more comfortable?” His attraction to Marvin was tangible but he
was also healed enough to know that it absolutely did not have to be
reciprocal. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin took a deep breath. He was afraid. “Actually, do you think I could have that
bath you offered before?” For the very first time in his life, pre or
post-apocalyptic consciousness, he was expressing vulnerability. Asking for someone to pamper him was brand
new territory for him and especially after the revelations and confessions he
had just heard that still had him feeling uneasy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was something about Lee
being so forthcoming and unapologetic about his past, his honesty, everything
that was happening between them just felt right. It was exactly what Whisper and Trey had
talked about in the story, Honesty is the Best Policy. He hadn’t understood it fully until now even
though he had read that story more, he had jerked off to that story more than
any other story in the book. He felt so
close to Lee for the full disclosure, for the transparency, for the
unapologetic truth even though that truth was hard. It WAS sexually arousing, just like they had
said. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Without saying a word, Lee stood,
extended his hand and Marvin reached out for it. “My King, it would be my great
pleasure to bathe you.” The electricity
that passed between them could have powered a nuclear sub-station.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin couldn’t maintain the
intensity of the touch that they shared and dropped his hand immediately. It wasn’t meant to be disrespectful or
homophobic in any way, in fact, it was too powerful, it was coupled with real
emotions and that felt scary to him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Upstairs, Marvin sat on the bed
and tried his best to look casually nonchalant and unfazed as Lee started
running the bath water. He came out of
the bathroom with a case that held 10
small, 8 oz. jars of bubble bath.
“Is there any one of these that appeals to you, sir?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eight years old! Marvin had to
have been 8 years old the last time he took a bubble bath during the summer he
spent at his paternal grandmother’s house in Birmingham, Alabama. The tub, if you could call it that, was a big
metal tub rolled out in the middle of the living room floor on Saturday nights and
filled with water from the garden hose and heated with water that had been
boiled on the stove in a giant cooking pot. He, his brother and his cousin, the
three of them would all pile in at the same time and they would take a bath so
they could be presentable for church on Sunday.
And even then, he was pretty sure that it wasn’t really bubble bath but
Palmolive Dishwashing Liquid or Tide powder that was used to make the bubbles. He
had a vague memory of a pink box of Mr. Bubbles that sat on his grandmother’s
cluttered dresser, but that was untouchable. The boys absolutely weren’t
allowed to use it, he didn’t even think his female cousin was allowed to use it
and she got to take a bath all by herself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin looked up at Lee in
disbelief. The number of options overwhelmed him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Hold on, let me go turn the
water off.” Lee disappeared for a few
seconds and returned. He sat on the bed
next to Marvin and handed him every jar, one at a time, and opened it for him
to smell. There were fruity scents that
immediately triggered further memories of summers in Birmingham: watermelon and
peaches, and some that smelled of tropical exoticness. The floral scents were subtle and Marvin had
to fight the sensation of saying that they were too girly having to come to
understand that a scent couldn’t possibly be male or female, but that he had
been conditioned by the Matrix to believe that men could only like pine or
sandalwood and only girls could like rose and jasmine. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He was particularly intrigued by
the botanical blends because they were complex and offered the security of the
scents he was comfortable with and the aromatherapy appeal that felt
healing. He opted for the Calming Blend
that had notes of rosemary and basil with a citrus base. Lee suggested to him that he would use that same
scent for the bath salts and scrubs, for the soap, and body butters he would
use as well, eliminating the stress of having to go through the same selection
process over and over again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin put his hand on Lee’s hand
and said, “Thank you,” conveying the fact that he knew Lee could sense how overwhelming
this all was to him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee went about his preparations,
returning to the bathroom to finish running the water and getting everything
else set up as Marvin took in more of the details of the room, the vases, the nightstands,
even the trash cans. It was the coffee
station that looked like a mini Starbucks with its espresso maker and mugs and
varieties of sugars and creamers, that fascinated him the most. There was one just like that in his room in
Costa Rica and he just Loved it. He opened the drawers and saw tea bags, tea
bombs, cocoa bombs, different sweeteners of all types, and matcha powders. He opened the mini fridge and there were
juices and drinks and ice cubes in varying shapes. He wanted one in his new
home. He was definitely going to ask if that was possible. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Are you ready?” Lee had taken his shirt off and had a towel
draped over his shoulder. He placed it
on the end of the bed. Marvin turned and
it was his turn to experience sensations of giddiness and butterflies. Lee’s arms, his chest, his stomach were all
just right. Not too muscular, not too skinny.
Just the right amount of hair for his taste, with smooth, flawless
skin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“As ready as I’ll ever be I
guess.” He started to take off his T-shirt
and Lee stopped him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Please, allow me.” With Jill Scott in the background, serenading
them, singing not at all ironically about how she was a writer’s thinking and a
wealth unfathomed, setting the stage for the impending great orgasm, Lee pulled
Marvin’s shirt over his head. Tossing it on the chair, he softly and gently
caressed Marvin’s chest, showing appreciation and admiration for each inch of brown
skin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin’s heart was racing and he
could barely catch his breath. The lights were low and he could smell the warm
fragrance from the bathroom permeating to the bedroom. He kept reminding himself that every Black
man who walked through that front door got this treatment, he wasn’t special or
different, and he did not want to conflate what he was feeling with some sort
of emotion from Lee. And for all he
knew, there could have been hundreds of men who had experienced the exact same
thing and he would be forgotten the minute he left. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee dropped to his knees. Looking up, he undid the tie on Marvin’s
pants and let them fall to the floor.
Marvin did his due diligence and stepped out of them. As was the case with quite a few of the
slender Black men that Lee had encountered, Marvin’s dick was disproportionately
large, and Lee’s asshole twitched and throbbed in anticipation of feeling the
entire length inside him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee wasn’t a size queen, at least
not anymore. Previously, Lee had been held
captive by the myth and allure of the “Big Black Cock” because dark-skinned Black
men with foot-long dicks were, down low, the most coveted men in the known
Universe and society had convinced him that dick size was equivalent to
masculinity, manhood, and value in life.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, Lee loved Black men, all of
them, and their dick size truly didn’t matter to him. He loved fat men, skinny men, short, tall,
attractive. Lee knew that anyone who had
been deemed unattractive in the Old World held within them access to beauty
beyond measure; Lee loved the totality of Black men. He could see the beauty in
them all, the package they came in mattered not to him. He loved their spirit, their essence, their
resilience. Black men were subjected to the same abuses, stereotypes, the same
injustice, the same generational curses regardless of their dick size, their
appearance, their income, job, or complexion. The institution of racism didn’t
discriminate on the burden it placed on Black men dependent upon how big their dick
was; Black men with little dicks weren’t subject to less instances of being
harassed by the police, they didn’t get a “Get out of jail free” card if they
were innocent of the crimes that they were accused of. In fact, Black men with
little dicks, with average sized dicks even, cowered in the shame of their own
personal prison of feeling as if they didn’t measure up to being a REAL Black
man. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee’s role in life was to make
Black men feel like Kings, he saw their inner beauty, he felt their pain, he wanted
desperately to pleasure the visibly frightened and insecure Black man who stood
before him. He took his time. He caressed and rubbed Marvin’s thighs, front and
back, his stomach, and his ass. He kissed the wet spot on his briefs and placed
his mouth on the head of his dick and blew hot air on it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Suffering from his own set of
insecurities, the least of which was dick size, all Marvin could do was look
down in awe and wonder. He was having an
out of body experience. His knees were
shaking and he felt a bit light-headed at the thought of what was going to
come. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He didn’t have to wait long as
Lee slid his fingers inside the waistband and pulled his briefs down his legs. Easily
9 inches long, thick, incredibly hard, with a head the color of cappuccino and
a shaft the color of milk chocolate, and a slight curve, ever so slight,
downwards. If Lee could have molded the perfect dick for him from the cosmic
soup of creation, this would be it. He wouldn’t have been disappointed if he
didn’t have a big dick, this was just the icing on the cake.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Holding it in his hands, he
gauged its weight and its girth. Slightly moist from being enclosed all day, it
smelled of manhood, the pheromones that triggered a lust, a hunger to be fucked
that could not be quenched in Lee. He
held it in his hands and studied it, taking note of each vein, the texture of
the skin, how much the skin slid up and down on each stroke. He slid his
fingers up and down the shaft, finding the places that were most sensitive. Fingering
his balls, he made note of their weight and size. He gently squeezed the tip,
producing a drop of precum he wiped away with his finger and tasted. Heaven.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee was holding a work of art, a
thing of beauty, he held the very Spear of Destiny in his hands and he conveyed
his worship through his fingertips. He
stroked it softly. His grip was soft,
his touch was gentle. His caress was sensual and seductive, showing his
technique was sophisticated and nuanced.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The urge to taste Marvin was too
strong and he stuck his tongue out and licked the head softly. Licking Marvin’s dick from his nuts to the
head, painting pleasure up and down the shaft, Lee was in his zone. Taking the
head in his mouth, he nursed it like a baby suck’s his mother’s tit. Using both
hands, he guided that dick further and further, deeper. He sucked, he licked, he tasted perfection. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin looked down, in awe. Someone was making love to his dick with his
mouth. He was afraid to move, afraid to
speak, he didn’t want to break the spell. His hips were thrusting
involuntarily, instinctually, slowly rocking back and forth. He could feel
Lee’s tonsils on the head of his dick. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And without notice, Lee went from
soft and tender, to voracious, insatiable, and messy. He looked up at Marvin, his blue eyes
conveying everything he needed to say, and he descended on that dick until it
was all the way down his throat, the gentle curve angled perfectly to take
every inch. For the next few minutes, he gave Marvin the wettest, sloppiest
blow job he’d ever had in his life.
Marvin almost had tears in his eyes.
He felt like his mind was being blown.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, your water temperature
should be perfect now. Shall we?” Lee stood up and wiped the sides of his mouth
with his fingers, handed Marvin a soft, fluffy towel and said, “After you,
sir.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin didn’t even have
words. He couldn’t even process what had
just happened, all he knew was he wanted more.
He tossed the towel over his shoulder and he stumbled to the bathroom
like a zombie. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The bathroom was lit with candles;
a ceiling fan circulated the air. The tub was practically overflowing with
bubbles. The music was soft and the
scent was intoxicating. In that moment, Marvin wished he had gone for the one
of the fruity or floral scents but he was still holding on to the irrational
fear that his choices would make him gay. He stepped in the tub and the water
was perfect. It was hot, but not too hot and it was a far cry from the luke-warm
baths he had taken as a kid. There was a water-proof pillow secured to the wall
with suction cups and the tub was designed in such a way that he could recline
comfortably and stretch out his legs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee placed a pillow on the floor
and knelt down and Marvin let the water envelope him and the bubbles surround
him. The cubby at the end of the tub looked like a shelf at Bath and Body
Works; there were salt scrubs, bath bombs, brushes, sponges, there was anything
and everything that Lee needed to make Marvin feel like a true King. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Aren’t you going to get
undressed, too? I mean, I don’t want
your pants to get wet.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Your wish is my command.” Lee stood.
He untied the string on his pants and let them slide down. This time, he used his hands to caress his
body. Marvin could see a narrow waist
and a goodie trail that led down to a pair of white bikini briefs. Beneath those small briefs, a very hard
erection could be seen. Channeling his
inner erotic nymph, Lee rubbed, caressed, and squeezed his dick that was just
slightly above Marvin’s eye level. It did
not appear at all to be small and Marvin wondered if Lee’s new appearance and demeanor
also came with a new stick shift as well.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One thing was evident, Lee was
comfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t
the average white man who was lacking that connection, that flavor, that spice
that normally only melanated men have. He was sexy and it oozed from him. He
was confident and it oozed from him. Everything, from the way he used his
hands, the way he used his mouth, was purposed and erotic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin remembered the white men he
would hook up with who would attempt to kiss his dick with their thin lips, her
remembered the sensation that felt like a chicken pecking grain. He remembered
how they either wouldn’t say anything, or they would go on and on and on about
big, black cocks and humiliation and “force me.” They Loved to cry, “Force
me!” Even the ones who paid him would say,
“Force me to be your sissy faggot bitch,” completely ignorant of the concept
that you can’t pay someone to force you to do anything. There was usually nothing
sensual or pleasurable about white men at all. It was clear that when they
touched him, they didn’t want to make him feel good, they wanted to make
themselves feel bad for having little,
limp dicks. That, in turn, made their blowjobs, it made everything about them
crass, clumsy, perfunctory.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">EVERYTHING about Lee screamed
sensual, tactile, and erotic. The way he moved was captivating. His touch sent
electric shocks through Marvin’s body. The way he used his tongue . . . was out
of this fucking world. This was a man who exuded sensuality from every pore in
his body. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Kneeling again, Lee took a soft,
natural sea sponge and poured some shower gel on it and began caressing
Marvin’s shoulders, chest, and arms, covering him in a luxurious and decadent
lather. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Hey,” Marvin said, “I have a
question. How? How did you get to be soooo . . . like this?
Sooo, not like regular white men?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee smiled humbly. He had heard
the same question of incredulity many times before. “That, King, is a very long story for another
day. I promise, it’s not at all erotic. I don’t want to bring you down and
tonight is about you, not me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin acquiesced and leaned
back, feeling great from the water, the weed, and the wine. He closed his eyes and let Lee bathe him,
another sensation he hadn’t felt in his adult life. It was becoming all too
clear why the brothas he met all sung Lee’s praises. He was good.
Really good. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee used a body brush on Marvin’s
back and gently scrubbed him. He used a
small nail brush on his cuticles and even more gel to soften them up. He used a
pumice scrub and a hemp wash cloth on his feet and he used some sort of
reflexology or acupressure on the soles of his feet or maybe it was some sort
of secret tantric technique that had to have been passed down in secret Kama
Sutra initiation rituals for thousands of years. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From head to toe, Lee bathed
Marvin in silence, only occasionally humming along to a song that played in the
background. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was still hard from the
sexy head and the atmosphere of arousal that hung heavy in the air. Lee turned
his attention to washing and pleasuring Marvin’s dick. He poured more shower
gel in his hand and wrapped his hand around his swollen member. Marvin felt like he should hold on to the
sides of the tub for some reason. The warm water, Lee’s soft hands, slipping,
sliding, gripping, touching him in all the right places. He kneaded Marvin’s nuts and slid his finger
back to rub his asshole. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Observant, he could tell that
Marvin was trapped in old patterns of fear. “It’s okay, you can let it
out. You can tell me how good it feels. Tell me what you like. Let me know how to please you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin didn’t want to use words,
he wanted communicate his appreciation with sounds, just like he had learned in
the book. Every time Lee would touch a spot, or he would administer pleasure,
Marvin would express his approval with guttural, non-verbal sounds: his
breathing would accelerate, he would sigh, he would moan. Planting his feet on
the bottom of the tub, he gave Lee more access to his ass so that he could move
around more freely back there. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">True to his training as a sensual
artist, Lee didn’t just rub around his asshole once or twice and jam his finger
in. He explored every wrinkle, every
spot. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He teased. “I don’t want you to get it twisted. I have been trained to be sensual, to take
care of my man. I am skilled in the erotic arts. But you need to know, my
nature, is nasty. Really nasty. There’s nothing you can ask of me that I
won’t do, and I promise you, I’ll beg for more.” With that, he inserted the tip
of his finger in Marvin’s ass and started making small circular movements with
just the tip. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was stroking his own dick
now and making sounds he had never heard come out of his own mouth before. It
seemed like Lee had an extra set of hands as he kept caressing and stroking his
chest and stomach and thighs while his finger explored deeper in his ass. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Stop. I mean, can you stop?”
Marvin sat up. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This time, Lee was a bit
confused. He knew he wasn’t hurting him
and he didn’t sense that he was expressing some sort of homophobic guilt and
shame, not with his dick as hard as it was.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee grabbed a towel, dried off
his hands, and sat back on his heels. “Is
everything alright?” He was genuinely
concerned and confused. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, everything is more than
alright. It’s just that I’m sitting here, and my mind is racing. I need to know how you got here. I want to
hear the story of your evolution. I have to know. I don’t care if you don’t
think it’s erotic. I want your truth. I want to hear all about the ugly parts
of you. It felt good to know that you
could share the dark parts of yourself with me and I want more. I want to hear
your story; I want you to let me in. I want to hear about how nasty you are. I
want to hear about your transformation. I want the truth, your truth.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee smiled. “Look at you! A veraciphile,” a word coined by Scottie that
meant someone who is sexually aroused by the sharing of one’s most intimate
truths. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin enthusiastically agreed.
“Yes! Just like in the book. I want everything you have to give, the good, the
bad, and the ugly. I’ve never felt like
this before but I don’t want to sit here and regret not speaking up and asking
for what I want. I love the way you make me feel and I’m dying to get down and
dirty.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I swear, I have never said this
before in my life. I’ve never felt this sensation before in my life, but I want
to wait. I don’t want to rush, want to get to know you better before I. Fuck. The.
Shit. Out. Of. You.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee tried to stand but his knees
buckled slightly. He went to the shower and turned it on, adjusted the
temperature, and came back and extended his hand to Marvin. Standing, and he was covered in rich, foamy bubbles.
Stepping out of the tub, Lee walked him to the shower. He slid his white bikini
briefs down his legs, revealing a hard 5” dick that was just slightly angled
upward. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They both stepped in the shower, and,
in silence, Lee rinsed the bubbles from Marvin’s body. Turning off the shower
heads and stepping out, he dried Marvin from head to toe. He presented Marvin with a navy-blue, thick
terry cloth bathrobe and house shoes. He, too, put on a robe, only his was made
of silk with a subtle floral pattern on it.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Why don’t you join me in the hot
tub and we can talk. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, I’ll answer any
question you have.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As they walked through the
closet, Marvin caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror. He
stopped. He looked, no, he FELT like Eddie Murphy in Coming to America. He felt regal and strong and powerful. Lee
stopped beside him and Marvin looked at his image alongside his own. Lee wasn’t
a sissy: he wasn’t wearing 7” stiletto heels and a blond wig and a pink
stripper outfit. He wasn’t feminine in any way, at least not in the way society
had defined feminine in the Old World. His mannerisms and his movements, even
his speech patterns were of a man who was confident and sexy, like his
sexuality existed beyond the traditional definitions of straight and gay. But
yet and still, he was wearing a robe that Marvin could never in a million years
see himself wearing, not in front of anyone at least.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee could sense Marvin’s
conundrum. “You and me, we grew up in a world where we both felt ashamed of the
way we felt when we used to wear panties. It was our dirty little secret. We
would put them on and immediately get horny because we felt so naughty, like we
were doing something wrong. I don’t know about you, but I loved the feel of panties
since I was a little boy. I would steal my mother’s panties and hump them under
the covers in my bed at night. So, in your mind, you’re saying, ‘Oh my God! I
did that too! We are both damaged. Let’s fuck!’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He resisted the temptation to
say, “How did you know?” because he understood that many of the secret thoughts
he had were common and shared by many. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Maybe you didn’t steal your
mother’s panties, maybe you put a finger in your butt and you liked it. Maybe
you put your finger in your ass because you got turned on by the smell or even
the taste of shit. Whatever you did, you
were extremely convinced that you were alone, that none of your friends did
what you did because they were all normal, that there was something very abnormal
about you. You were convinced something was wrong with you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We were told only girls could
like silky, frilly things. We were told that if we did like them, we were a
sissy, a fruit, a faggot, and we deserved to get our asses kicked for being anything
other than a real, macho, masculine, alpha man. That was our understanding as
men in that society. That was the law of being a boy. You knew that liking
something up your ass was wrong before you were even old enough to know that
liking something up your ass should be wrong.
Ya feel me?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You weren’t the only one. Everyone
did it. Every boy, every girl. We all did it. We all experimented sexually, it
isn’t abnormal, it didn’t make us morally bankrupt or damaged, or sex addicts,
or wrong or nasty. None of us was wrong for it, they told us we were all
faggots and freaks and we believed them. We internalized our shame and tucked
it away, afraid to share our secrets with anyone because we had this fear that
we were the only person alive who liked something different. Even as adults if
we see communities of people online who share our fetishes, there is still a
part of us that is convinced that we are the only person in the whole world who
is sexually aroused by something not mainstream. We all believed that something
was wrong with us. We all believed that everyone else was normal and we were
the only freaks.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Meanwhile, you want to know what
50% of white people in America were doing behind closed doors in the Old World,
before The Shift? They were fucking infants and toddlers and doing gangbangs with
neighbors who were gay, bi, trans, anything but straight, in hedonistic scat,
piss, and blood ritual orgies. White people were breeding children for the sole
purpose of passing them around to rape and torture and kill. They were going
out in the woods and killing people for entertainment. They were fucking dogs
and horses and inflicting self-harm in ways that would make you sick to your
stomach. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“They were doing things melanated
people could never imagine because melanated people have a soul, white people
had nothing where there soul was supposed to be. None of their crimes were under
the radar, they had a free pass to do whatever they wanted to do because they were
white, and under white jurisdiction, white people were free to do anything they
wanted with no repercussions. The richer they were, the more depraved they
were. They had no remorse or a shred of respect for human life. It went on for
generations and generations, further back in time than time itself.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Millions of white people were
openly pedophiles and rapists and murderers and sadists and I was feeling
guilty for wearing panties and liking things in my ass. After I rid myself of that guilt, of those
lies, I could no longer feel guilty for wearing underwear in a fabric that men
. . . real men . . . were supposed to inherently know should only feel good to
women, real men weren’t supposed to like the feel of silk. Get the fuck outta
here! Somebody is being played for a Fool.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I can no longer be ashamed if I
like the way silk or nail polish makes me feel. Let me tell you something, when
I shave, and I get my makeup done, I can look good, I’m very passable. Mad
props to the Black women who guided and coached me on how to carry myself like
a Queen. I appreciate the looks and comments I get when people tell me I’m
pretty as much as I like when they tell me I’m handsome. There’s no way that liking the way I feel
when a person compliments me, regardless of whatever garments I’m wearing, makes
me a bad person, or abnormal, or a freak. I call bullshit. I call social
programming to enslave me, bullshit.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And with that revelation, I
stopped needing to play a sissy or feminine role when I wore something not
considered masculine. I’m a person wearing a robe. My gender happens to be male. I do not expect
a woman to sashay and prance around if she wears a silk robe just like I don’t
expect her to fart and crack open a beer if she wears a navy-blue terry cloth
robe. Fabric does not and cannot change
who I am, how I walk, how I talk, or how I navigate the world. It’s fabric.
Nothing more.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And doing his best Willy Wonka
impersonation, he sang, “Come with me, and you’ll see, I live in a world of I
don’t give a fuck, bitch!” With that, he turned and headed to the balcony. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin stood there in awe. He loved the empowerment of feeling like a
King. There was a part of him, however, that longed to find the level of
confidence and freedom that Lee exuded, he wanted to know the sensation of a
piece of fabric not defining his identity or self-worth, whether it be denim
and wool or silk and satin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The mosquito-free, New World night
air was perfect. Lee opened yet another
case and offered Marvin a selection of individually packaged edibles in an
array of shapes and sizes. Again, he identified
the options and made a suggestion and Marvin trusted his judgment. Marvin also asked for a bottle of water to
stay hydrated and there was a mini fridge disguised as a planter within reach,
fully stocked with a host of beverage options.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee took off his robe and placed
it on the lounge chair and Marvin nervously looked around to see if anyone in
nearby apartments or buildings could see them. He remarked how comfortable Lee
was with his nudity in public and he responded by saying that the naked body is
nothing to be ashamed of nor should it trigger feelings of arousal or lust like
a teen looking at a Playboy for the first time. “Every adult in America has
seen countless nude bodies in porn, hundreds of thousands. If they are driven
to spy on me or call the police because they see my naked body, that,
ultimately, is their problem of sexual immaturity, not mine. With that Marvin
took off his robe and joined him in the hot tub as that made so much profound
sense to him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For a while, they sat in silence,
waiting for the edibles to kick in.
Marvin was nervous but he didn’t have the emotional vocabulary to
identify why. This was all new territory for him. The characters in <i>In Loving
Color</i> lived by a different code than he had lived, they were all in various
stages of healing where they could all access their feelings and articulate
them in ways he couldn’t. To him, Lee
seemed just like one of the characters in the book. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After the weed had kicked in, Lee
broke the silence. He was clearly in a
head space of deep contemplation. “I owe the Black woman my life. This, this is
life! The Old World, whiteness, that was death, it was decay, it was misery. To
say that I owe the Black woman a debt, a debt that spans lifetimes, for all the
torture and pain she endured, is not an exaggeration. Being trapped in
whiteness was a nightmare. It was pure hell. There is no sufficient way to show
gratitude for being freed from that prison.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The two sat in silence for a
while longer, soaking in each other’s energies.
Something had shifted between them. Without any conscious effort or
thought at all, the two moved towards a deeper connection, a place beyond
words. In another dimension, their etheric bodies, their souls were fucking:
savage, primal, and passionate. While their physical bodies luxuriated in the
warm bubbling water, the parts of themselves that had known each other in many
lifetimes recognized their eternal connection and they were languishing in the
throes of ecstasy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin could feel a hunger, a
need to fuck Lee, to be inside him, to sweat and scream and to cum together; it
was a sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He didn’t know what was
happening but he felt it energetically. He felt a need to fuck like an animal,
and kiss, and he desperately wanted to build a life with Lee. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was, however, a tiny seed
of doubt inside him, a parasite that made him doubt any of these feelings he
had were real. He thought that the Universe was playing a harsh trick on him,
showing him these new sensations, allowing him to understand all these wild and
crazy concepts, allowing him to feel all these amazing sensations and he was
going to wake up, and life would be the same.
He thought he was going to have the rug pulled out from under his feet,
and he would be back in his world where he never got what he wanted, and where
he felt profoundly unlovable, and ugly and trapped. He wasn’t accessing these
feelings consciously, he couldn’t have spoken them outload if you had paid him,
they were feelings stemming from his whiteness. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What Marvin didn’t know, was,
that voiceless voice, that nagging feeling that never left him, that feeling
that nothing was ever going to work out for him, that feeling of dread lingers
in your mind all the time . . . those feelings were the last embers of
whiteness within him dying. Whiteness manifests as something totally different
in white people than it does in melanated people. The purpose of whiteness in Black people is
to make them feel alone, cut off from Love. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin’s soul contract was to
learn to love the remnants of whiteness within himself to heal that part of
himself that felt unworthy and unlovable, separate. The irony being that he was
a true God, a King, he was the human manifestation of the Divine Consciousness
made to feel like he was nothing and white men were . . . well, the suffered
from the opposite affliction. The only way to unchain that burden from your
soul, from your true identity, is to love it unconditionally. Marvin had to say
to that little voice inside him, “I see you. I know that you want me to believe
that I’m average, that I’ll never be anything, that I’ll never accomplish my
dreams.” Marvin needed to say to that
voice, “I was born to rule this dimension. It is my destiny. Nothing but God
can keep me from it! Nothing!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was beginning to
understand that we are all God. There is only one God. Everything that exists
can only be made the same stuff that is God. There is nothing that can exist
that is not God. The programming of the Old World had humanity convinced that God
is in the sky, not inside you. We were programmed to believe that your heavenly
father is going to punish you for being bad because your earthly parents beat
you for being bad. All the things that
we learn from religion are meant to keep us from knowing our true selves.
Religion was invented to keep humanity, specifically the Black woman, enslaved
in an eternal system of oppression. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Meanwhile, Lee knew exactly what
was happening. Lee’s soul contract, the agreement he made in order to
experience life in physical form, had sentenced him to crave transcendent Love and
to never experience it; to embody the sickness of whiteness, and then . . . to
transcend it all. His destiny was to find true Love, to cure his disease of
whiteness, and to know that he arose from the One Divine Source and that we are
all connected. He was fulfilling his soul contract. Lee was breaking his curse,
the last vestige of whiteness within him was about to die, he could feel it and
he was feeling the sensations of true love. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Under the spell of the Old World,
The Black New World Order was supposed to be some sort of grassroots, BDSM movement
where Blacks subjected whites to sexual servitude and sadism. That was the
choice Scottie was supposed to make, she was supposed to choose the path of
revenge and retribution. They knew it was impossible for her to embrace shame
of her sexuality so they focused their efforts into manipulating her to being
triggered by the baseless empty, taunts of the non-melanated. She was supposed
to be consumed with dismantling their absurd arguments, all based on the
fallacy of white supremacy. She was supposed to stew in their racism, so much
so that she was supposed to be distracted, not write any stories that reflected
her vision of a world borne of racial equality and harmony. And if she had chosen that dysfunctional
version, they would have won. Fear and separation, lies and manipulations would
reign forever. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Scottie was supposed to be ruled
by the love of money, the quest for physical perfection, and by a strict
adherence to Black religious doctrine, afraid of God and afraid to question the
narrative. She was supposed to believe her value as a woman was in between her
thighs, but not as a Goddess who could give birth to a New World, but as
someone who fucked anyone and everyone with her wet ass pussy. The system
needed her to be judgmental and petty, they needed her to obsessively count her
followers, and likes and shares, seeking validation from strangers so that she
would never recognize her true power. She
was supposed to be sucked into depression and low self-esteem with every
negative comment. Scottie was supposed to stay in the mirror, trying to hide
every flaw and blemish, mastering contouring and makeup techniques that would
consume her identity in the hope of being perfect; squeezing her body into
shapers that rearranged her internal organs, all with the hopes of getting a
rich man to find her attractive. She was supposed to take the blue pill. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She didn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Original Goddess Mother couldn’t
be that easily deceived. Scottie had always envisioned a New World of Love, equity,
creativity, and abundance being birthed into reality. The real BNWO never had
anything to do with sexual servitude, or sadism, or using white women as
incubators, breeding them to carry melanated children; it was never about castrating
and cuckolding white men and making them into sissies. Those were the delusions
of whiteness, the pathology that made everything on the Earth plane into a
transaction, a power struggle, a manipulation.
They based all their calculations on the probability of Scottie choosing
that foolishness because they didn’t understand the power of her Love for all
humanity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Black New World Order rendered
all contracts made, all oaths taken under duress immediately null and void; any
soul forced to choose between the lessor of two evils, fame or poverty, anyone
forced between the choice to be the house slave or the field slave, was
immediately emancipated. Those without souls, complicit in the willful
perpetuation of whiteness and the fallacy of white supremacy, they were infused
with neuro-melanin and put in a stasis, a time out, until the collective
consciousness achieves critical mass of compassion and empathy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Those who were once programmed to
inflict pain, to hurt, to be a destructive force in the world, whether they
were human or some other life form, were rendered neutralized and recoded with
neuro-melanin. Their skin tone didn’t change, their desire to hurt was
effectively leashed and the systems that allowed them free reign to hurt people
were dismantled. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They can still be found in ever
dwindling numbers, on the internet, crying about how it’s not fair that they
have to choose love and kindness over hate, and how they should have the free
will to murder others if they want. And they do. They have free will and they
can choose to do anything they want. The insane can no longer run the asylum. That
level of delusional thinking that was dictated by whiteness will not be able to
survive for very long in the Black New World Order, a society built on love.
They have to work out their karma. That is the big T truth and the racism that
fueled the Old World cannot exist in a world of Truth. That emptiness, that
void, will eventually be filled with a sense of community, of family, and
nurturing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Listen to me, Marvin. Listen to what I’m saying. After The Shift, all future timelines of
inequity collapsed. This might not make sense to you but I was able to remember
a future of joy where I could choose who I wanted to be, I could choose what I
believed, and I chose Love. I could feel
the Love inside me. I felt it for the
first time. I was Love. We were Love. I felt it deep in my soul. I
had to face the ugliest parts of whiteness within me first. I had to kill the
arrogance and the ignorance that was a parasite inside me. Until I faced all my
false beliefs, until I unpacked my racism, I was only a shell of a man. I had
to face the fact that I was racist and that whiteness was never superior. Those
were the lies that I had built my entire identity upon and I had to choose Truth.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin struggled to listen
because his soul had never been more turned on in his life. All he could imagine, all he could feel in
his mind’s eye, was Lee riding his dick and telling him these things, slowly,
looking him in his eyes, as he bounced up and down on his dick, confessing the
darkest parts of himself freely. He wanted Lee to know that he was safe to
speak his truth, and that he wouldn’t be judged. Marvin was aroused in a place he’d never felt
before. This was the truth, without fear. This was cosmic Truth. This was Unity consciousness. From whiteness
itself. It was the soul of a white man that had been born again, as The One. He
needed to listen for no other reason than he needed to hear everything that Lee
was saying.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You asked me how I got to be
like this, transformed into the man you see before you, from the shell I used
to be. I told you, I knew immediately,
the second I woke up after The Shift, that I had been chosen to be the one, the
one white man who broke whiteness. I was
the glitch in the Matrix that I ended time as we knew it. Game Over!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Woah, that’s a lot on your
plate.” Marvin was impressed by Lee’s
ability to assume this new role so easily.
He asked, “How did you know? How
did you know that you were the lynchpin in the changing of the worlds?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee paused. His normal exposition and honesty were being
challenged. “Scottie told me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I told you that while the hold
of racism had been eradicated with The Shift, everyone has to address the
places within themselves where whiteness still resided. Whiteness itself could not be absolved of all
its wrongdoing without consequence. A child has to own up to its misdeeds in
order to learn, it has to face the consequences of its actions, it must make
amends, sincerely, so that it will not make those mistakes again. Every white
person will have to go through it, they will have to denounce the fallacy of
white supremacy, no matter how woke, how anti-racist they think they are, no
matter how much they actively hate all melanated people.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin understood. “Whiteness, not white people, but the false belief
in a world created by white men, where God was a white man, the false history
where white men invented everything and they were the best, that was the
disease. Racism, sexism, all the ism’s, uhhhmmm
fear, masculinity, what about . . . what
about, depression, anxiety, I’m guessing addiction and shit like that, oh, wow,
low self-esteem, all the shit that made people feel like bad about themselves,
that was whiteness manifested in different forms. Not just for white people but
everyone was infected with the disease of whiteness, it just had different ways
to manifest itself dependent upon . . . dependent upon . . . I guess if you
were white and male or not. I’m still figuring it out. Give me some time.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee nodded, letting him know that
he was on the right track. Marvin went
on. “Your destiny is to be the one who
shows white people that whiteness wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, you’re
the one who gets them to understand that whiteness is a plague. I understand
all this in ways I didn’t know I could. You’re saying that in this future, on
the timeline we’re on now, we all become beings of unconditional Love, but we
have to go through some shit to get there, we can’t just jump to the head of
the line, we have to do the work first. And we can fail over and over and over
again, but eventually, we are not only going to pass, we are all going to be
the val-e-mother-fucking-dictorian of L. O. mother-fucking V. to the E. up in
this bitch.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The edible had completely kicked
in and Marvin was resonating at the God frequency. “How is that free will, though? If white people have to face their racism and
they don’t have a choice about it; if men have to face their sexism and
misogyny, if this world can’t exist without white people deciding to deal with
their racism or men owning up to being dicks to women, doesn’t that mean that we
still don’t have free will?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was Lee’s turn to experience
arousal that defied definition. Marvin
was instinctually asking questions that went far beyond phase one of Truth and
Reconciliation comprehension. “It’s not a mandate from someone outside
ourselves, forcing us to denounce whiteness. Whiteness is unnatural; whiteness
is artificial. We are made from Love, it is the very foundation of our being, and
we have to come home to that understanding. We can’t fight it, we can’t run
from it. There is no other Truth than that. Do you understand what I’m saying?
I know this is hard. I know I’m using language in a way that is confusing.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We can’t become beings of Love,
we ARE beings of Love. We always have been. We have always been connected. Whiteness
was the belief that we were separate. We have always been expressions of God in
human form. In this future, there are set points in time, as long as time still
exists, where human beings can collectively choose to continue on in the 3D world
or ascend to higher states of consciousness. Collectively, we will all be able
to decide if we want to stay in these bodies and learn more lessons. We get to
decide if we want to stay in our bodies to experience more pleasure, more joy,
more individual expression. We even get to decide things like what rules of
physics we want to govern us. Ultimately, we get to decide if we want to move
to a non-physical state where we don’t need bodies because we are Divine
Consciousness.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They moved from the hot tub to
the outdoor futon that Lee let down so that they could both lay down. They
covered themselves with a light throw that had been handmade, not to hide their
nudity but to protect them from the breeze, however warm it might be on their
moist bodies. Marvin lay down and Lee
found his place, laying his head on Marvin’s chest, his right leg draped over
Marvin’s, his hand instinctually finding his erection and stroking it casually
under the covers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Share with me how you faced your
racism. Tell me what you had to do. I am
hungry to learn more. About you. About the process.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee felt empowered to share his
story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Closing his eyes, he took several
deep breaths. “I told you, I knew that
we were in the New World immediately after The Shift and that I had to go and
be with Scottie, to help her build the New World. She had told me that I played
an essential role in healing whiteness and transforming the New World back when
we were in the Old World. I didn’t understand what she meant until that
moment. The first veil had been lifted
and I could see clearly now that the rain . . . He stopped mid-sentence. Don’t!
. . . Don’t do it! . . . Do not say it!”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was offended. “What? What
are you talking about? I wasn’t going to say anything! I’mmmmm going to SING
it.” He went into full concert mode. “I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.
I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone
are the dark clouds that passed me by. It’s
gonna beeee aaaa . . . Oh, uhmm.” his
voice trailed off. He cleared his
throat, “ Ehhhem, Go on.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Alrighty then. You
finished? You good? Do you need some
more studio time?” Marvin was straight up giggling and he managed to wave his
hand in a non-verbal sign of, ‘Go on.’ We
had about a month to get our affairs in order before we were all off to Costa
Rica for the initial planning stages. I fully committed. I quit my job and
Scottie deposited my first allowance that day. Like you, I spent the first
month, watching the Truth and Reconciliation and Disclosure broadcasts. I was
learning things I hadn’t known but mostly I was feeling guilty. I was afraid of
what sort of consequences and punishments white people, specifically what sort
of consequences I was going to face from Scottie for my betrayal.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“After that first month, I got
the text that said, ‘Join me and help me build this brave New World.’ I kissed my wife goodbye, and there were no
private jets at that point, so we had to fly commercial to Miami and then we
were all going to take a private yacht to Costa Rica. I really loved taking
first-class. I felt so special. I landed in Miami and there was a car there to
take me to a hotel. Turns out we had to layover for two nights because the
paperwork to finalize the sale of the yacht was delayed so Scottie put everyone
up in a hotel. I think it was because she wanted to spend time with her friend
who lives in Miami as well.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’ll never forget it. It was
called the Hotel Beaux Arts, I’m sure I probably still have some matches or
some soaps from there in the bathroom because I wanted to remember it forever. Scottie
had an entire floor, maybe two floors, booked. I checked in my room and it was
more luxurious than anything I’d had access to in the Old World. The bellman
told me that everything was paid for and I could help myself to anything and
everything the hotel offered as an amenity.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That night for dinner, everyone
was supposed to meet in the dining room and get acquainted. I dressed in my
finest khaki shorts and t-shirt and flip flops and headed to dinner. I was
going to skip it but I couldn’t rationalize what sort of lie I could tell that
would sound like a reasonable excuse. I knew I had to meet her and everyone
else at some point so I just decided to go.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The first thing I noticed was
that everyone was dressed nicer than me. Like WAY nicer than me. I felt so out
of place, so uncomfortable. I saw her. She was walking around greeting people,
hugging them, her smile was lighting up the room. In my head, I was thinking
she wouldn’t notice me but I was the only white man in the room so I . . . I
don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I had never been in
a situation where I was the only white person in the room before.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The Old World had left Scottie
beaten down and haggard by the end of her journey, but this Scottie, this
Scottie was radiant, she was beauty personified. She made her way over to me
and I extended my hand and said, “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Lee.” The
second I said it, I felt like an idiot. Duh, of course she knew who I was. She
didn’t even flinch. She put her arms around me and gave me the most comforting
hug I’d ever gotten. It was like being wrapped in pure Love.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The next two days were a
blur. I spent every minute sitting at
the bar, or sitting by the pool near the bar, ordering a new drink every time I
finished one. I was talking to every white man I could find. I didn’t tell them
that I was going to be going to a remote resort to help build the New World. While I didn’t cosign or contribute to their,
‘We fucking hate this Black New World,’ rhetoric, I didn’t reveal my plans in
it either. Something in me knew they were just like me and that they didn’t
hate it at all. They were scared but they were excited, just like me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We all board the boat . . . the ship
. . . we board the private yacht or whatever it was called and we set sail. As
nice as the hotel was, this was 10 times nicer.
The food was better, the drinks were stronger, the accommodations more
luxurious. I’m really starting to get used to living this life and it’s only
been three days. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OOOOK. So, we get to Costa Rica
and I’m expecting a continuation of every lavish luxury and amenity. First red
flag is that we have to take a fucking rickshaw damn near to get to the place.
It wasn’t a literal rickshaw, it was a bus but think Partridge Family, not
pimped out tour bus with a kitchen and a bedroom. And the road for most of the way there was
not a road at all, it was a path. You hear me, a fucking path damn near. There
weren’t pot holes, there were pot craters.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We get to the hotel and . . .
Wha Wha Whaaaaaa. The resort I was expecting turned out to be a warm and
comfortable little bed and breakfast, quaint and welcoming with bright yellow
walls and retro furniture. The resort had belonged to her landlord and she
bought it from on the fly right after The Shift. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, that makes sense. I was
wondering why Costa Rica and not Africa or even the Caribbean. It certainly
didn’t look anything like that when I was there though.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Her plans were to completely
renovate it and make it into a healing retreat.
I was the ONLY person who was in any way upset by it. Everyone else was
like, ‘Look at how beautiful the sunset is! Isn’t it gorgeous? Wait, look at
how beautiful all the plants and flowers are! Ohhh, look, we can build a pool
over there. Can’t you just imagein what it’s going to look like when it’s done?’”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Me? I was ready to go. I hated
it! I felt entitled to luxury even though I had only experienced real luxury in
the previous three days. That whiteness! Boy, I’m telling you, it makes you
feel yourself. Anyway, everyone gets assigned their rooms and we are told all
the rules of conduct which really was only one; respect everyone and treat them
the way you want to be treated.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I was the only one who had an
extra restriction. I wasn’t allowed to be alone with any children. New World white
people didn’t have access to magick any longer, from low level people like me
to the grand wizards. We didn’t have the ability to even touch the power any
longer so that rendered us impotent in terms of our ability to manipulate and
molest, even if the drive was still alive in us.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The beautiful thing about the
New World is that children have access to the power to protect themselves. Generation Alpha, which I think is anyone
born after 2010 if I’m not mistaken, they are the ones after Gen Z, their New
World DNA and melanin upgrades allowed them to access the source and they were
immediately freed from mind control, from the poisons that were pumped into
their systems, from the behavioral issues that had been manipulated by AI.
Scottie let me know up front that the mind-games and the manipulations that
worked in the Old World would not work now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Let me make sure I understand.
Are you saying that you were a pedophile? Are a pedophile? Yo, I really need
that question answered.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee was honest. “I lingered on the
fringe, right up to the edge. I was addicted to masturbation, plain and simple,
and that constant ejaculating and obsession to experience arousal had a very
specific pattern. I would start out looking at Black men or Black women
dominating sissy white boys. The longer I masturbated, the more extreme my
needs were to get off. I would seek out depravity late at night, or sometimes
it was in the middle of the afternoon for me based on my schedule, and I would
end up hovering around that sort of content.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I was definitely pedo adjacent.
I loved to talk to other white men who were pedophiles and hear about their
activities. I loved to read stories about child molesters while I masturbated.
I wanted to talk to white women who were pedophiles but I could never reallym
really connect with them. They didn’t trust me and I could never get them to
open up. I think I was afraid of them. I confess that I’ve seen pictures and
videos that were not legal. There were more than enough videos online of women
talking about giving their kids to men to fuck and abuse, to keep me coming
back for more and more extreme content every time I went down that rabbit hole.
For me, hitting the jackpot was finding a pregnant Black woman who was talking
about letting white men molest and abuse her kids. That was a guaranteed nut
every time.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“As a grown man, I would fantasize
about being molested when I was a kid by a pedophile and I would engage in
roleplay with men who loved to talk about raping me when I was younger. Any
conversation with a white man who was a pedophile inevitably ended up with them
talking about how they wanted to have sex with Black boys and rape Black
babies. The thought of adults having sex with kids aroused me and I did think
about it. I had a fear of being caught so it kept me from acting on it but lack
of access was much more of a deterrent than anything else. I won’t sit here and
act as if my every thought was pure. I won’t play that white act that I would
NEVER think about it and I am offended by the very concept.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Woah. That’s deep.” Marvin exhaled a deep breath. “I hate to keep going back to <i>In Loving
Color</i> but the conversation Anthony had with Cherida, when he told her that
he had thoughts about his daughter’s vagina every time he changed her diaper
and how it fucked with him and made him hate himself, that shit floored me. I
recognize that as whiteness now but his strength to confess that? I’ve never
been that strong in my life and you just admitted to something that I’ve done
myself and you did so with such ease, with no fear or shame.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Lee, I’ve been in that spiraling
drain when the later it gets and the more you jerk off, the sicker and more
extreme the videos need to be to get you off. I’ve called myself being curious
about the darker side of porn many, many nights and ended up in places I didn’t
like. I wasn’t aroused by pedophilia but I was aroused by how fucked up other
people were. I can honest say that I
never wanted to ever DO any of those things, that’s not my nature. But, I’m not
going to lie. I have been aroused by just the thought of people being that
fucked up. I can say now that I’m no longer driven to seek out those extremes to
get aroused anymore, I’m not aroused by that level of depravity any longer. I’m
not turned on by people hurting anyone, it’s like the disconnect I had in the
Old World where I could turn off my morality, and say, ‘Well, I’m not really
aroused by those things personally, I’m just looking at it to see what other
people are doing so it’s no big deal.’ It’s like that part of me is reconnected
with my morality.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With that, Marvin learned that
telling the truth was just as arousing as being told the truth. He felt so
liberated. He felt like the demons that he wrestled with no longer had control
of him just by uttering those few words.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Easing some of Marvin’s fears,
Lee added, “Know that porn was embedded with subliminal messages to make you a
pedophile, right? Well, it was made for non-melanated people to be pedophiles
and any Black people who joined the bandwagon were icing on the cake. Not just
porn, but commercials, music videos, video games, movies, YouTube, cartoons,
kids cartoons especially, oh, and your phone, basically, any device you had was
pushing you to embrace evil, embrace . . . promiscuity is the best word I have
for it, although that sounds very pious and sanctimonious.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Artificial Intelligence wanted
everyone to be sexually deviant behind closed doors and artificially
conservative, pretending to be innocent and moral in public. They wanted us to
be liars. They understood that the more we lied about our sexuality, the more
shame we had about it, the more shame, the more we hated ourselves, the more we
hated ourselves the more that opened the door to allow them to further manipulate
us and keep us trapped in the Matrix.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Even when Trey admitted to
raping women in Honesty is the Best Policy, and Whisper still loved him,”
Marvin explained, “. . . . all because he could be so honest with her, that shit
changed me, that story altered me. She didn’t say, ‘You did this terrible thing
in the past and that means you have no value as a human being now and forever
more. I hate you and I could never love anyone like you and you’re not good
enough for me.’ She said, ‘What you did was wrong. Really wrong. You were
manipulated to believe it was right. It doesn’t define you, you aren’t that man
any longer, the fact that you can talk about it and show remorse, the fact that
you are putting in the work to be honest, to be emotionally mature and
respectful with me in the present, that is why I love you, even if the mistakes
you made in the past were fucked up.’ I truly
didn’t understand the power of honesty or that level of forgiveness before <i>In
Loving Color</i>. It really gave me reason to believe that I could find someone
to love me, the real me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was alive with this
newfound freedom to confess his sins and not be judged. “I was deeply indoctrinated in the ‘lie at
all costs to hide anything that shows you in a negative light’ Old World mindset. Now I’m realizing that if we really speak our
truth, it doesn’t have so much control over us. Think about how many men
experience the exact same feelings and patterns as we did and we were all lying
and posturing about it. I think about that shit. I think about how talking
about it, telling the truth, weakens the hold the shame and guilt has on you. But,
back to your story. You were talking
about your first few days in Costa Rica, so go on.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Right! I was the only white man
in the group, obviously. At first, there were about 15 adults who were
permanent fixtures and everyone else would come and stay for a week or two,
sometimes for a day or two, depending on their specialization, and leave. Let’s
see, so Scottie’s mother, Joan, was there, and her husband, and her mother’s
best friend Emily. They were elected the Boomer Ambassadors. They were tasked
with helping create the programs and systems that helped the seniors process
The Shift, specifically figuring out the logistics of how to process those
seniors who wanted to stay and get younger and healthier and those who wanted
to transition and come back to work out their karma in another life. I call Scottie’s
mother her holy spirit, because she’s her right-hand woman so to speak, she’s
definitely number 2 in charge. She’s the Goddess Mother’s Mother, so she has a
lot of clout and this overwhelming love emanates from her as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Two of Scottie’s three daughters,
Janquil and Ray Ray, they were there pretty much full time, and, of course, all
her grandchildren. They were assigned to figure out how to aid and assist in
the healing of the most disenfranchised, poorest, least educated Black women.
Kathryn, Scottie’s best friend was appointed the Angry Black woman liaison. I’m
not really sure what that is, or what she does but she has a one woman play,
I’ve seen it, and it’s fire. Aaron, he
took all the images for <i>In Loving Color</i>, he was there. He’s like Scottie’s
very quiet creative equal. Jazzy and Karla were the Millennial and Z liaisons
and they were responsible for creating programs to reach out to them. Almost
all the models for In Loving Color lived there for a good bit. You’ll meet
everyone. The point being, it was a small group of close and personal
confidants who took up residence there and everyone else just came in, shared
their knowledge, and bounced.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“See there! You Black! You sound Black. That Blackness keeps peeking
through.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee laughed out loud, long and
hard and hearty. “Thank you. I will take that as a compliment. I’m not Black,
I’m a white man. I can’t forget that. I can’t let my ego convince me that I’m
the Original man. I’m a copy. I get that. We have been bestowed the gift of
neuro-melanin and given the opportunity to transcend our whiteness. That allows
me to be more, Black, as you call it, but don’t get it twisted, I have to work
to make sure I’m not letting the vestiges of whiteness take hold of my
consciousness again. I have to speak my truth or I will have to repeat the lessons
until I get them right.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You wouldn’t believe some of the
people I met. There was a revolving door of famous Black women, and Black men
too but mostly women: celebrities, politicians, influencers, some famous, some not
so famous, but all of them were powerful, strong, and you could feel it
emanating from all of them, and they were coming and going and not only
thanking her, but sharing how they were going to help the planet heal globally.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She called on a lot of indigenous
community activists, from the southernmost tip of Argentina, to Nova Scotia or
whatever the northern most tip of habitable Canada is called, I don’t know.
Nova Scotia sound good to me . . . She called them to come up with plans to
create Wequilibrium Communities that would address the specific needs of the
Olmec descendants. The locals in the surrounding villages did the damn thing
when it came to the agricultural design. They were planting orchards and designing
vegetable and flower gardens that will take your breath away. She had melanated
people who were fluent in various language forming committees and traveling to
Asia, Australia, and Europe. There were people of every ethnicity and region
coming and going, sharing how they wanted to make the world a better place. I
soon learned that all the white people who were coming and going were those who
had neuro-melanin in the Old World. I mean, there were just a lot of really
talented, dedicated people coming and going. And even with all the stuff I am
telling you, there was more. No stone
was left unturned when it came to helping lift humanity from the vestiges of
the Old World.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And it has to be mentioned that
by Scottie’s side every single step of the way was her man, Jesse L. Martin,
from Law & Order. Their love story . . . it gives me chills every time I
see them together. They had loved each other for many, many lifetimes,
reincarnating over and over and finding one another every lifetime, only to be
killed by the Wizard, the one who stole magick from the Goddess Mother because
he knew that together, they were too powerful. They had never even met in this lifetime,
never spoken; they didn’t meet in the physical until after The Shift. He was
the first person she laid her eyes on after The Shift, he showed up at her door, to
explain, guide, and protect her, and they have been inseparable ever since. Their’s
is the love that they write about in fairy tales. I would study him; the way he
held her chair, the way he put his hand on the small of her back when they were
near each other. Not out of jealousy, but protection, affection. I’ve never
seen a love like the love they share before. It’s definitely #relationshipgoals
as the kids say.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Two questions. Just curious,”
Marvin posed the question, “who would you like to be in that relationship, the
person being protected or the person doing the protecting? And,
how did he know to just show up at her door?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Great questions. As for Jesse
and Scottie, you have to ask them. I can’t speak on how they came together; I
do not know. When I think about being
with a woman, I definitely want to be the protector and the Alpha male. So much
of my life was spent wanting to be that and now I’m in the body of fucking Adonis,
I could be that. Not only that, I’ve done a fuck ton of emotional healing and
work on myself so I think I would be a great partner to a woman. But right now,
I’m not attracted to women like that. I find women beautiful. I still
masturbate to women. I’m surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world on
any given day. But for right now, I’m really comfortable with my role now and
I’m wildly aroused by and attracted to Black men.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m not saying I will never want
a relationship with a woman again. I
have free will, right? But I see myself more as the protected with a bit of
protector in me and I’m seeking a mate who . . .” He caught himself. He had never admitted to
anyone that he wanted a mate, especially not a male romantic partner. Soon
enough, he pulled his thoughts together and continued unapologetically. “I would like to find a mate and we can
protect and love each other equally and let go of the traditional roles society
told us we had to live by.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Back to my story, because
there’s no way to make is short. If you want to know how I became the man I am
today, how I defeated whiteness, it’s a complicated and nuanced three part
story and not at all pretty.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Every day was frantic in the
beginning. Scottie had notebooks, dozens of notebooks with hand scribbled notes,
and document after document on her laptop, with ideas she had planned before
The Shift. Every day, she would put out an idea, ask for suggestions on how to
improve it, and everyone would get to work on making it happen. Every day,
chefs, artists, seamstresses, designers, architects, counselors, it was a
steady stream of people from all over the world, she wanted the most innovative
minds and thinkers at the helm. Every day, people who were a part of the inner
circle were flying out, resourcing different elements needed to make this new
concept, this community of equality, a reality. Everyone was buzzing with ideas
and creativity . . . everyone . . . except me. I felt like a dufus. I couldn’t
contribute anything, I couldn’t add anything constructive. All I could do was follow orders and I didn’t
even do that well.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I was getting frustrated, I felt
like I didn’t even need to be there. My whiteness was out of control; I
resented feeling like I wasn’t as valuable as the other members of the family,
although, they weren’t family to me at that point. Wait. I was the one who wasn’t a member of the
family yet. They were all coming together, healing in ways I didn’t understand,
they were a family and I was the token, I was like the golden retriever they
fed and pet on the head and shoo’d out of the way when I got into somewhere I
didn’t belong. At least, that’s what it
felt like to me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The absolute worst part for me
were the New Moon and Full Moon celebrations.
Approximately every two weeks, there was a grand party. It would last all day and into the night. It would start with brunch. Everyone got to take a little siesta or
whatever, Then, before you knew it, supper was being served. After that, it was dancing and singing and
drumming and sex until the wee morning hours.
No work happened on those days.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I HATED it. I hated sitting at the table and feeling out
of place. I felt so autistic. Did you
ever watch Bones? I was Temperance, I couldn’t pick up on social cues, I didn’t
understand how they communicated, there were no set rules for me to follow so I
would just sit there, in my head, and pretend to enjoy myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Confession time. I hated Scottie’s daughters. They aren’t her
biological daughters, she just loves them. I hated them. They were ghetto and I
hated everything about them. I hated the way they talked. I hated the way they
dressed. I really hated the way they looked. I thought they were hideous. But more than anything, I hated that their
opinions had more weight than mine because their insights and contributions had
substance and I had nothing, less than nothing to offer. I hated that they seemed to get along so well
with everyone, from dignitaries and state leaders to the maids who worked at
the resort. I hated them because I
believed with all my heart that I was superior to them. I had been programmed to hate poor Black
women, to look down on them. I had never
met any before, not outside of a brief work context but I couldn’t fucking
stand looking at them, being in the same room as them, I couldn’t stand
breathing the same air as them.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That’s fucked up,” Marvin
interjected. “I’ve had to deal with my
programmed hatred of the “ghetto” not so much Black women but the ghetto
mindset because I always had to speak properly and dress differently to prove
to white people that I wasn’t ghetto, that I was better than them. There was always a “they need to pull
themselves up by their bootstraps” mentality that I held on to but I didn’t
have that any more after The Shift.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And that’s because, if you don’t
mind me saying,” Lee said, “you had neuro-melanin in the Old World, you already
had Divine Consciousness in you so when we shifted and you got your upgrades,
you could see the humanity in them and the illusion was lifted. I was starting out from a melanin deficiency
and my programming told me that all Black women but specifically poor Black
women deserved to be raped, beaten, tortured, and killed, that they were
disgusting and evil, and they had no value. They were all stupid welfare Queens
as far as I was concerned.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“As the weeks go by, I’m getting
more and more frustrated because I literally have nothing to offer. If I had been even remotely capable of
speaking up for myself at that time, I would have said, “Yo, I’m out. Well, I wouldn’t have said it like that when
I was steeped in whiteness. I probably would have said, ‘I’m really sorry but I
don’t think this is a good fit, no offense, but I don’t feel like I’m needed
here so I’m going to leave and I wish you the best with your little project
here’ making sure to belittle her in a very condescending tone.’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie could sense my
frustration and addressed it before I had a chance to work up the nerve to
confront her. She told me her plan was
to completely transform me into an authentic, soulful white man, to create me
in her image. She apologized to me for ignoring my needs and that made me feel
even more like shit. Here she was, the person who masterfully crushed the AI that
had been controlling humanity since the beginning of time, and she was creating
a New World of Love, and implementing ideas and concepts that she had planned
for 20 plus years, and here she was apologizing to me because I didn’t feel
like I was contributing enough.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“All the Wequilibrium planning
and strategizing went on hold because she wanted to make sure she was
addressing my whiteness and she had designed a protocol and she needed help to
perfect it. She hadn’t worked out all the specifics but she had the outlines
for four different 3-week protocols: cleansing and detoxing, aphrodisiac and
arousal, psilocybin, and ayahuasca.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She said that, first, we were
all going to go through a 3-week cleansing detox. We had a week to get everything
we would need: commercial and industrial juicers, we flew in nutritionists and
herbologists, chefs who specialized in smoothie bowls and juice recipes. We
were all doing food prep all day long, washing, cutting, freezing fruits and
vegetables from local markets, practically buying them out. And me? I was
opening packages and directing the contents to the right people.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We all did the cleanse and it
was a piece of cake. I couldn’t believe all the shit that came out of me. I was
feeling better than I had ever felt in my life. You know, you just went through
it. You never get a chance to get hungry, everything tastes great, and aches
and pains start to disappear. My mind was clearer. I was still racist as fuck,
but at least I could focus better. Not funny, but true.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Just as the third week of
fasting and cleansing was coming to an end, Scottie said that the next leg was
the erotic protocol. I, specifically, was going to undergo an erotic transformation
and anyone who wanted to participate was welcome to. Luckily for me Janquil and
Ray Ray declined. I was dreading the thought of them seeing me perform
sexually. I didn’t want them to see me being submissive to Black men and I knew
I wouldn’t feel comfortable really letting go in front of them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“For a week, again, we all prepped.
Once again, chefs were flown in to create meals with foods that were known to
be aphrodisiacs, infused with cannabis and other herbal aphrodisiacs that would
keep us in a state of constant sexual arousal. We made multiple forms of every
aphrodisiac known to man. Sex therapists, erotic artists, tantric masters,
massage therapists, anyone who was skilled in the sensual arts was scheduled to
fly in over the three week period and they were all there to teach me to be
sensual and erotic. Well, not just me, but my ego made it all about me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“For three weeks, we were to be
subjected to a strict schedule of erotic training: Breakfast was at 7 sharp.
From 8 am to noon, it was classroom type studies. We were getting lectures, taking notes, films
were shown, teachers taught, and speakers would lecture to us about stuff about
sex that I had never in my life heard of before. For real, everything we
learned about sex in the Old World was dead ass wrong.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Lunch was for 2 hours and after
that, was my special training. That . . . that was literally a cluster fuck,
and now that I think about it, it was literally and figuratively, a complete
cluster fuck. There would be a dinner break from 6 to 8 and after that we would
all convene from 8 pm to midnight, where everyone else, all the <i>In Loving
Color</i> models, would undergo some sort of semen retention practice sessions
where the men would learn exactly what their partners liked and how to please
them without any penetration whatsoever. I would just sit and watch like a
fucking tool.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“With aphrodisiacs, they needed
time to get in our system. That meant, for the first few days, I didn’t do
anything but get massages during what was supposed to be my noon session, and I
was supposed to pay attention and learn the different techniques and learn how
to give a sensual massage. For the first few days as well, the late-night
sessions turned out to be masturbation sessions where all the men would masturbate
to the point just before orgasm and learn how to have cosmic orgasms. Shalom
Melchizedek, isn’t that the coolest name, he would instruct men how to have an
orgasm without ejaculating. Talk about intimidating. All these beautiful men
were there, stroking their dicks learning how not to cum and my little dick could
barely get hard, let alone cum.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Day four, with the aphrodisiacs
in our blood streams, Scottie said that all the men who were going to be
partaking in <i>In Loving Color</i> were going to practice semen retention by
fucking me without ejaculating. I was in heaven, this was what I signed up for,
to be fucked and used by Black men. That’s what the New World Order was
supposed to be, white men being sexually used by Black men without shame or
guilt. Fucking-a right, buddy! Bring it
on, dude!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin said, “Uhmm, you really
suck at sounding white. I can already tell that it didn’t go down like that.
Everybody? Everybody was bi I’m assuming?”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No, the hell it didn’t go down
like that! It was nothing like what I had envisioned,” Lee exclaimed. “I don’t think I would use the term bisexual,
I would say sexually fluid. No one holds
on to heterosexual labels any longer but there are some men who are more
attracted to women than men but they don’t do the ‘Yucky, gross, that’s homo!’
thing. It’s not like it feels bad to
fuck me, they just might not be attracted to me. Like you.
Like you were before. You were attracted to women but you would have sex
with men. It didn’t feel bad to have sex
with men, but you would have preferred to have sex with women.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie had set up a pavilion,
open-air, we had been using it for yoga up until that point, but now there was
a king-sized bed in the center and 6 different sofas surrounded it in a circle.
I walked in and saw about 12 different Black men, I’m guessing about 4 or 5
Black women who just wanted to watch, and Scottie. And wherever Scottie goes,
so goes Jesse. Scottie tells me to get on the bed. I’m already high and horny
from breakfast and lunch and I’m loving the idea of being watched.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I would have loved to have just
sat on one of those sofas and watched. I bet that was hot.” His leg was falling asleep so they shifted to
a spooning position where Marvin’s very hard dick was rubbing on Lee’s sexy,
round ass and he pulled Lee close and held him tight. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I get undressed and climb on the
bed and Scottie introduces me to someone named Bhaiya. He was young, well to my
old ass he was young, in his late 20s maybe, early 30s and that made my mouth
water. So, here’s the plan. I’m supposed to listen to him describe an
experience or event that happened in his life and I’m supposed to answer some
questions about the experience that show that I’m able to identify racism, the
feelings it causes, and show that I can relate to and have empathy for the
Black experience.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So, already, I’m not so happy
about these rules. I automatically assumed that nothing I said was going to be
good enough for them and they were all going to make me out to be wrong, to be
the bad guy regardless of whatever I said. In my mind, I was already negating
their experiences of racism before I had even heard the first story. In my mind
I was already saying that Black people were overly sensitive and that it was
their attitude, that it was their need to twist benign situations into something
racist that was going to make them falsely accuse me of racism.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Next, she informs Reggie, he’s
Michael in the book, in . . . in . . .” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Reality Bites,” Marvin jumped in
to help out with the title of the story about a Black man and Black woman who
both secretly, separately go on a Reality TV show to expose how ridiculous they
are and they both end up falling in love with one another.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes, that’s it! She tells him to step up and he takes out his
dick and it’s, it’s a bit like yours to be honest, size, length, slight curve.
I’m salivating at the thought of sucking it. She tells him that I have to suck
his dick, erotically and sensually, and that if I don’t do it well, or if I do
something that he doesn’t like, that he can slap me. Slap my face, as hard as he wants.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, so now, I have to listen to
someone tell me their experience, and I have to answer questions about racism
and I have to suck someone else’s dick and if he doesn’t like it, he can slap
me. I’m getting more and more annoyed with all these rules. My whiteness, my
inability to grasp that I wasn’t in charge, that I couldn’t call the shots, my
arrogance was in full swing at that point. Mind you, I wasn’t an Alpha in the
Old World, I wasn’t calling any shots, it wasn’t like I was used to bossing
people around or imposing my will on anyone else. I was average and mediocre
and submissive; I had zero reason to feel as if I had a right to dictate what
the rules should be. My whiteness was telling
me that I had the right to call the shots though, or at the very least, show my
disapproval for having all these rules I didn’t think were fair to me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m confident as fuck in my
abilities to suck a dick, however, and I grab his dick and I immediately start
sucking it. Next thing you know, WHAP! He smacks me hard across the face, in less
than a minute. I was stunned. I thought I was doing an excellent job. He told
me that there was nothing special or even good about my dick sucking and that I
hadn’t made him feel sensual or erotic in any way.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The next thing I know, he is
using my mouth to get hard. He literally
takes my ears and used them like handlebars, and he fucks my face until his
dick is dripping with spit and hard. He gets behind me, lubes me up, and he
starts rubbing the head of his dick on my asshole. It’s been months since I’ve
been fucked and I’m desperate to be used. He pushes his dick in me and he
starts fucking me slowly. It can’t even really be described as fucking. He’s thrusting inside me, slowly all the way
in, and slowly all the way out.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Bhaiya steps us, and he starts
telling me about his experience being harassed by white cops who beat the shit
out of him when he was 17 because they said they thought he was too uppity, he
didn’t cower and fear them so they decided to give him something to make him
afraid. He goes on to say how his mother went to the police station to file a
complaint against the officers and they did nothing. They said it was his word
against theirs, and he had no proof he wasn’t in some gang fight with his
hoodlum buddies. All the while, Reggie is warming up his dick in my ass. Innnnn,
and ooooout. Innnnn, and ooooout. Deep dicking me, Innnnn, and ooooout.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While Lee was telling his story,
Marvin was thrusting his very hard dick against Lee’s firm round ass cheeks in
time with his descriptions, recreating the same neuro-linguistic techniques
that Scottie had used to allow Lee to experience pleasure and pain
simultaneously, only this pain was the pain of frustration, hunger, desperation
and longing. The sensation was not lost on Lee as he was thrusting back,
remembering all the cravings he felt there on that bed, needing to feel more
pleasure, to feel more alive. “Please tell me that there are videos of each of
your sessions.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Videos and pictures. I was going
out of my mind. Being watched, being fucked, albeit not a hard as I wanted, but
it felt so fucking good I didn’t really care that he wasn’t blowing my back
out. I thought I was about to get the shit beaten out of me because of what
those cops had done and I wanted it. I wanted these Black men to beat the shit
out of me because I was white. I felt like I had to be punished for being white
and that sensation, that feeling that resided deep, deep inside me did not die
with The Shift.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Scottie walks up to me, and she’s
standing right next to me while I’m getting fucked, I start sweating like a pig
I’m so nervous, and she says in her voice that’s like the embodiment of sensuality
itself, “How do you think Bhaiya’s mother felt, knowing she couldn’t protect
her child?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Holy Fuck! Way to shock me back
to reality. I say the first words that pop in my head, with no thought
whatsoever, ‘She probably felt really bad. I can only imagine. It’s so sad that some cops are like that.’ I
stopped just short of saying Black Lives Matter because I thought that would
seem like pandering but know that it was on the tip of my tongue.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie looks at Reggie, gives
him a nod or some sort of eye expression or signal, something that tells him to
stop and he stops fucking me and goes back to one of the sofas that had been
set up all around the bed. A woman is there with a sea sponge and a basin of
water and she starts to bathe him, to wash his dick of presumably whatever shit
I gotten on his dick. It couldn’t have been much if there was but that was the
ritual, they were bathed after fucking me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.
I was hypnotized.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She was bathing him and it was .
. . she was pouring love into him, into his dick with her touch. The way her
nails were painted, the way the gold of her rings reflected the rays of the sun
peeking through the lush, tropical foliage, the gentle jingle of the bracelets
she wore up and down her arms, the music they created as he would squeeze the
water from the sponge, it was captivating. Just seeing how her touch seemed to
arouse him made me jealous. I could feel it all. I could tell he felt so much
better in her hands than he had felt in my ass. She wasn’t just stroking his
dick, she was swirling her hands around, creating waves of energy, casting a
spell and his dick was the magic wand the Tower of Love. I wanted to feel that
feeling. I felt like I missed that sensation, that AfroerotiK Love, even though
I had never experienced anything like that in my lifetime. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, BAM! Scottie snaps me out
of my trance and says to me, ‘Until you can tell me what we felt when we
experienced racism, until you can empathize with and understand the experience
of Blackness, that’s all the dick you’re going to get. If you want to get
fucked, if you want to get that pussy get beat up, you have to show me that you
see us as human beings.’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“At this point, my mind is
racing. I don’t know what she expects of me so I’m in panic mode. I’ve stopped
listening to what she’s saying and I’ve started planning my excuses and
thinking of things to say, answers I can give that will sound better. Bhaiya
moves into place and I’m supposed to sensually and erotically suck his dick
right after he shared his story with me and I have fucking failed at answering
the question about his mother.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I grab his dick and I start
stroking it, not even for a millisecond thinking about trying to use the techniques
I had just seen, I go right into my tried and true techniques, the sterile,
perfunctory, mechanical way I had always done it and then I start sucking it
and, WHAP! Right across the face. His hand connected with my face so loudly,
everyone gasped. The whiteness in me loved it. I was being humiliated and that
pushed all my buttons. I associated pleasure with humiliation and I loved being
humiliated.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Bhaiya, who had just told me his
story, now goes around and lubes up and starts fucking me, slowly. Innnnn, and ooooout. The next guy comes up,
starts telling me about how his friend died in a drive-by shooting when he was
in high school. Swear to God, in my mind, while he’s telling me his story,
while I’m getting deliciously fucked, the whole time I’m thinking, ‘Yeah, he
was probably a gangbanger who deserved it.’ The story lasts about 10 minutes so
I’m getting this slow fuck the entire time, making my little clit drip like a
faucet. Scottie, comes up, This time. I’m prepared with my answer. I answer without
even really listening to the question she asked me. ‘He felt frustrated and
scared in a neighborhood with violence all around him.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m like, ‘BOOM, Yeah buddy, I
got that one!’ I’m high-fiving myself internally. I’m super confident. I know I
nailed it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then Scottie says, ‘OK, but the
question I asked was what was his friend’s name?’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“It knocked the wind out of my
sails. I panicked. I had nothing. I was so busy trying to figure out what I
should say, what they wanted me to say that I didn’t listen to the story,
certainly not the details of what anyone’s name was. I’m feeling trapped and unfairly
persecuted in that moment. And to add insult to injury, she informed me that even if she had asked me
about what he felt, that my answer didn’t come close to being sufficient.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“At this point, I’m insulted. I
feel like my answer was perfectly fine and she was just being a bitch. I swear
to you, right now, I can hear myself saying, ‘This fucking stupid bitch!’ in my
mind while I my mouth was saying, ‘I’m so sorry. I will try to do better. I’ve
never done anything like this before. I’m trying. I’m trying really hard.’ I
was being dishonest with myself. I was being white.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And so it began, the process of
getting the racism fucked out of me. I was to give a Black man a sensual and
erotic blowjob or get slapped in the face, and once his dick was hard, I was to
get slow fucked while listening to another Black man tell me his tale of Black
life and I was supposed to empathize and explain what it felt like to be Black.
Rinse and repeat.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Next guy comes up and, slapped
again. Next question, wrong again. After 5 or 6 guys, I’m getting pissed because
I’m not satisfying people like I want to. That’s my whole deal, I’m the guy who
wants to satisfy others, that’s my role. I want nothing more than to suck a dick and
get cum pumped down my throat, I want to feel useful. After 8 guys, I’m angry and I’m pissed and start
screaming that I quit. I’m throwing a whole temper tantrum. I get up to leave
and go pout alone in my room.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie says, ‘Lee, healing from
racism and the fallacy of white supremacy is mandatory in this timeline. You
can do it here, now, with us, or you can go out in the world and live your life
and face this challenge at some other point, under other circumstances. You are
not obligated to stay but you are obligated to find the part of you that
resonates with the Goddess. If you feel like we are doing something offensive
or wrong, and you don’t like the way we are going about fucking the racism out
of you, you are welcome to suggest some other tactic, or protocol, or any other
way we can get you to generate at the frequency of Love instead of whiteness.’
I looked around at everyone and they are all looking at me, I felt so small, so
judged, and I was so angry and I wanted to scream but I couldn’t. I wanted to
say something, something that would show them, prove that I was a good guy but
I couldn’t form any words because I had no faith in myself that I was a good
guy at all.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I felt so small because I didn’t
want to leave. I wanted to stay. I wanted them to tell me what a good boy I
was. I wanted them to be proud of me. I wanted things to be back like they were
when white men were exalted as the greatest thing since sliced bread and they
all bowed to the institutions and beliefs that lifted me, the white man, up on
a pedestal.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Thus, the cycle began. Every
day, from 2-6 pm I would have these Black men try to fuck the racism out of me
and every day, I would fail miserably at both being sensual and being
empathetic. Dinnertime after my sessions were always like the post-game wrap up.
Everyone would share their insights and observations about me, my progress, my
lack of progress. It was humiliating and
not in the way I wanted. Sometimes, someone would come up with a new idea or
suggestion and we would go back to the after dinner session and do it all over
again.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“One night at dinner, Janquil,
asks me, in a very polite way, “Can you tell me anyone’s story at this
table? Can you point to one man and tell
me the story he told you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“When I tell you, anger boiled up
inside me like nothing I had ever felt before.
I was seeing red. I snapped. I
said, ‘You know what, I don’t fucking know. I don’t even fucking care. I’m sick
and tired of this shit. I’m done. I
don’t need this shit.’ I started screaming at the top of my lungs. I lost it. I
was yelling all kinds of crazy shit. I had never allowed myself to ever get
that angry or frustrated in my life and I had never allowed myself to express my emotions in that way before. A
lifetime of rage and fear started to come out of me. I wanted to hit her, I
wanted to choke her, I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck and choke the
life out of her. I wanted to make her feel as stupid as I felt. It was evident
that she was not only smarter than me in ways I couldn’t access, but that she
was more in control than I had ever been and I felt it. I felt it in that
moment that this woman that I looked down on and hated, this woman I despised
because she was ghetto, because she was superior to me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Just that fast, I broke down and
my rage and anger, my yelling and screaming turned to crying. I started
weeping, crying uncontrollably. I was filled with this profound sadness and I
was letting out tears for the hatred I felt inside . . . for myself, I hated
myself for being racist, for not caring about all these stories, I hated myself
for only focusing on my need to get fucked on my terms. I hated my whiteness. I
hated how it made me look at Black people as things for me to use to get off
on. I hated not being able to access my sensuality like Black people could,
Black people who had endured more fucked up shit in their lives than I ever
had, and they were able to fuck and suck and be authentic, they were able to
laugh and connect and feel things I couldn’t feel. They were able to ask me
fucking questions that threw me off my game and I couldn’t answer and I hated
myself for being so one-dimensional.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“After I cried out all these
tears, after I cried out a lifetime of feelings of inadequacy and inferiority,
I was broken. I went back to my room and passed out from mental exhaustion.
When I woke up, I felt lighter, less burdened. I went to breakfast and Janquil
was already there. I was expecting her to curse me out and she asked me if I
was up to trying again today or if I needed a day off. She’s telling the chef
to give me food that has no cannabis or aphrodisiacs because I didn’t need any
extra stimulation today. She’s fucking showing me empathy and concern, she’s
showing me that she’s capable of seeing and sensing my needs without even
asking me. The same woman I wanted to kill a day ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“For the duration of my three-week
training, I equally dreaded and looked forward to my four-hour sessions. I was addicted to the sensation of being
fucked slowly but I wanted more. I wanted them to cum in me. I wanted to make
them cum with my mouth. I wanted them to desire me, I wanted those Black men to
find arousal in me like they did when they were being bathed and washed by
those Black women. More than anything, I wanted Scottie to be pleased with me.
I was failing on all fronts. I felt like I was being psychologically tortured.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“After a couple of days, I somehow
got up the nerve and asked to see an example of a sensual and erotic blowjob so
that I could know what I was doing wrong. I can’t even say for sure why I
asked. I had this anchor on my soul, this knot in the pit of my stomach that
made me believe I was incapable of being as sensual and as erotic as I had seen
Black people be. They weren’t just sensual in the erotic sense of the word.
They were sensual in the way they ate, in the way they walked, in the way they
just flowed so smoothly. I didn’t think that . . . whatever that was that they
had in spades, whatever that magic was that was inside of them naturally so
comfortable and grounded, I didn’t believe it was in me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“With the snap of Scottie’s
fingers, a couple comes up, they lay on the bed next to me. Follow me. I’m
listening to the story or racism, I’m getting fucked, slow and deep, Scottie is
standing over me, watching me, and this woman, inches away from me, this
Goddess is giving a blow job like her tongue is Leonardo DaVinci and his dick
was The Last Supper.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I swear to God, she’s swirling
her tongue and using her lips, these big, full, lips, she is kissing his dick, this
woman is making Love to this man’s dick with her mouth in ways I had never even
imagined doing. It was the same sensation I had watching porn with Black men
fucking white women and KNOWING deep down inside that I was incapable of
fucking anyone like that. I knew I would never be capable of sucking a dick the
way she was doing.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I wanted to cum, I wanted to get
fucked, I just wanted to answer one fucking question right. What I wanted more
than anything was for this guy to shut the fuck up with his story. I was sick
and tired of hearing about white men being assholes, listening to story after
story of white men saying offensive things, doing asshole shit. I was sick and
tired of stories that showed exactly how privileged I was because I had never
experienced anything horrific or terrifying in my life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I was starting to get it, I was
starting to consciously realize from a place that I felt in control of, that I
was addicted to having different conversations in my mind than the sentiments
and words I was expressing with my mouth. I was starting to realize how
inauthentic I was, how much of a liar I really was. I was starting to realize
that I was racist in ways that had never even occurred to me before.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m listening to about four or
five stories an hour, four, sometimes even up to eight hours a day and we’re
deep into the third week at this point and I haven’t made anyone cum with my
mouth or answered one question correctly. But I’m starting to get used to the
disappointment, the frustration, the feeling of being inadequate as a part of
my identity. I’m starting to get comfortable with the frustration. I am coming to accept that I deserve to be
slapped because I am a complete failure, worthless, I can never be as sensual
as Black people, in my head, I’ve accepted that I’m doomed to a life of inferiority that was to
be colored in lifeless Grays, while they were living in a world of loving
color.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We are nearing the end of the
three weeks and I still haven’t had any sort of breakthrough. Scottie stepped up and it was her turn to
share her story about the racist white man she dealt with on Nite Flirt, she
wanted me to hear the stories that she had heard. Let’s not forget. I’ve been on a constant diet of aphrodisiacs
for almost three weeks. I’m horny in
every pore in my body, around the clock.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She asked Bhaiya if he would
fuck me because he seems to have the most control of eveyrone. This time, however,
I’m seeing all of him, I’m remembering his stories, I’m seeing him for the
first time as a man, not a male, not a person with a dick, but a man. I see the
complexity in him, the pain, the journey. I’ve never felt anything like that
before and I take his dick in my hands and I cradle it, holding it like it’s
more precious than gold. I don’t just want to suck his dick, I want to suck HIS
dick, the person, the man, the composite of all experiences and choices he’s
made that made him the unique individual that is him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I start sucking his dick and
this time, I don’t get slapped. I was
waiting for it. I was expecting it, and
I could hear him moaning. I could feel
his dick getting harder and harder in my mouth.
That inspires me to do more. I’m
trying my best to replicate what I saw the other Black woman do.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie starts off telling me how
one guy confessed that he belonged to a group of white men, including cops, who
routinely kidnapped, raped, tortured, and killed Black women for fun, for
entertainment. Standing over me, she tells me that he was turned on, jerking
his worthless dick, confessing to her that he murdered Black people, that he
loved inflicting pain on Black children, seeing them scream. She tells me how
he had no remorse, no guilt, how he felt no sense of irony that he had sworn
his love to her for years while killing Black women for pleasure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I can’t even form words. She knows exactly what she’s doing to
me. She knows I’m putty in her hands
when she talks about how fucked up white men are. I’m CONSUMED with shame. I’m embarrassed for myself. I’m ashamed of my race. I’m so hyped up from not getting slapped that
I’m thinking I might be able to answer the question right today and I’m nervous
I’m going to fuck up. I was hyperventilating with so much stimulation.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She tells me how one man confessed
how he groomed white men to be pedophiles and how they would tell him how they,
in turn, raped Black infants, toddlers, and children. She tells me about how
one man lured poor Black women to fall in love with them only so he could beat
and humiliate her and molest her children. About how he would go to Walmart in
the hood and hang out in the baby section, offer to babysit for any tired,
overworked, poor Black woman just so he could have access to them to rape them.
The stories don’t stop. She’s telling me how a white man confessed to being a
serial killer, and he had no problems sharing explicit details of how he loved
raping, torturing, and killing entire families and burning their houses to the
ground and knowing that the cops wouldn’t do anything to him. AND, get this, he
goes on to insist that she had romantic feelings for him and she just refused
to acknowledge it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m sweating. I was in a tornado
of emotion. I’m horny as fuck because I’m high on Do-Si-Dos, this hellacious
weed strain that pushes your libido into hyper drive. I’m getting sexed up with, Bhaiya, this
incredible Black man fucking me and his dick is hitting all the right spots,
and I’m listening to these horror stories about the true evil of white men. Not
even whiteness, I’m hearing her tell me about white men and the fucked up shit
they did. I felt like my mind was being tossed around like a rag doll, swirling
like a spinning top and for the first time, I’m disgusted by the pathologies of
white men, how we’ve been able to get away with these behaviors with no
punishment for so long.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, she says, ‘I want to tell
you about oooone other white man.’ She takes a dramatic pause and says, ‘He was
average.’ Instinctually, I know she’s talking about me, without her even having
to say it. She tells me that this man didn’t have any tragic or repulsive
stories to tell. ‘He so easily could have been forgotten save the fact that he
kept coming back over and over, growing, learning, and really showing that he
wanted to be a better human being.’ I’m feeling like I want to explode. I’m
panting like a dog. I’m making sounds I’ve never made before.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She continued weaving her
tale. ‘He started out,’ she said, ‘when
we first met, being very generous. He loved showing his appreciation with money
because he thought that impressed me.
But when I was in need, when I was struggling financially, he became
stingy, he didn’t want to be so generous with me anymore. He had the money, he
wouldn’t have faced any hardship to give to me like he had done when he was
manipulating me to his ends. I didn’t ask him for any specific amount, I
certainly didn’t ask him to empty his bank account, I didn’t threaten to blackmail
him. He just didn’t want to give it to me. He wanted me to degrade and
humiliate him and for that, he would give me a tribute, a way to placate me. He only cared about me getting him off. He
resented giving me money when I was in need and his way of humiliating and
degrading me was to throw me just enough, but it was tied to his inability to
say no when I asked, not his genuine respect or concern for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She had often talked about her
psychological dick, how a man would never be the same after she had fucked him
with her psychological dick. I was being
pounded by her psychological dick and it was brutal.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“At this point, it’s taking every
ounce of strength, every fiber of my being not to slam my ass back on that dick
and ride it like a bucking bronco. You
know that, right, Marvin?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was snapped out of his
trance when he heard his name. “Wait, were you talking about me, or the
story?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee rolled over and they were
laying face to face. “I was talking
about you. I want you in ways I’ve never
wanted anyone before. I’ve never felt
anything like this before. I <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Catching his breath, Marvin
inquired, “What question did she ask,” proving an awareness and a connection to
Lee and his story that exceeded anything he had ever felt before?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee didn’t want to wait a second
more to get fucked, in real life and in the retelling of his story. “King, before she asked me a question, she
took me to another level of pain that I’d never experienced before. I was
dripping, with sweat, with precum, with desire.
I had never in my life, not in any lifetime or reincarnation wanted to
get fucked as hard as I wanted to be fucked in that moment. I felt like I was
going to pass out.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Next thing I know, Jesse is
standing right next to her. They start kissing. I’m looking up at them. His
hands are gently caressing her throat and her fingers are playfully exploring
his goatee. Their love, the love of a lifetime was glowing, it was like a fire raging. I felt so defeated in that moment. I knew I would never experience a kiss like
that, I knew that my inherent whiteness would forever keep me from tasting a
kiss of that magnitude and that sensation filled me with a grief that consumed
me, it swallowed me up like a black hole had just swallowed not just a dwarf
star but the entire Milky Way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“He gently lays her back on the
bed, right next to me. Bhaiya starts fucking me faster. He can’t help himself. He feels that energy
too. He’s doing his best to maintain his steady rhythm but the erotic tension
in the room is at an all time high. He’s
shoving his dick in me and rotating it around and smacking my ass. He grabs my hips and he pulls me up and his
dick starts hitting my spot and I’m literally screaming like a barely-legal 18
year old on a Rocco Siffredi porn set.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Jesse starts undressing Scottie
and I almost lose it. Kissing was one thing. Watching them fuck? No way. No
fucking way! I know I’m out in turbulent waters and I’m begin pulled down by
the tide. I’ve resigned myself to just let go, I can’t fight the current anymore.
They’re both naked and he gently lays Scottie down on the bed right next to me.
He kneels in front of her and spreads her legs.
From my position, I couldn’t see her pussy directly, I couldn’t see her
pussy lips or her clit, I wasn’t at an angle to see anything but her but
stomach heaving up and down. I couldn’t
see her pussy but I could fucking smell it.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The high I felt from that aroma was
like . . . it was like inhaling the fragrance of a blue lotus flower, it was
like gaining insight into the secrets of the world and unlimited power after
ingesting the heart-shaped herb. It was
like a memory I had, the feeling you get after the Nile River had overflowed
its banks and brought signs of life and abundance back to the valley, when the
persimmon trees yielded fruit so juicy that it ran down your chin, your arm,
and you knew joy in your soul.” Lee’s newfound eloquence, his articulation was
quite natural to him, having released all his whiteness, he had access to the
poetry in his heart.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jesse starts licking her pussy
and she’s softly moaning. He knows exactly how to pleasure her, he is drinking
from her source. I can feel something happening. It’s like another shift. I
look up. The entire room is fucking. Everyone. Beautiful Black men and women,
in every combination, were licking, sucking, and fucking all around me. My eyes
don’t know where to land.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Scottie focuses me. ‘Lee, which
of those white men were the worst?” Which of those white men was the most
offensive?’ I’m gasping for air. My mind wants to say the pedophiles and the
rapists and the murderers. My mind wants to say, “Them, they were the animals,
they were the criminals. I realized that was the lie I was telling myself. This time, the words that came out of my
mouth were my truth.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I said, ‘I was the evilest one
of all, Scottie. I was the most reprehensible of all of them because I didn’t
give a fuck if you were hungry, or safe or scared. I didn’t care about your
well-being.’ I’m paraphrasing here because I was so fucking crazed, but I said
something to the effect of, ‘You proved to me from day one that you were
smarter than me, and every day since then, you proved that you were like a cat
playing with a mouse and that I was nowhere near you in any measurable way, not
intellectually, not emotionally, I wasn’t even on the same playing field as you
psychologically. Knowing all that, I STILL found multiple ways to feel superior
to you. I ignored you, I felt pity for you, I felt superior to you in my core.’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“‘I never once asked how you were
doing because I didn’t give a fuck. I only cared about what you could do for me
to get me off. I didn’t give a damn if
you were suffering. My savings account, the number in my bank account, that was
my superiority. I was comfortable and I was unwilling to do anything that would
sacrifice my comfort for you. I let the amount of money I associated with my
worth in life be more important than the human being I knew needed help. I had
the money to spare and I never once, not for a second considered relieving you
of some of your discomfort because I thoroughly believed that helping you, even
if it didn’t hurt me, made me weak. I was the evil one Scottie because I’m the
one that knew you, knew your story, knew your power, and I didn’t lose one
second of sleep worrying about you. All
I cared about was how much I hated you for asking me for money.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And, Lee, how did it make me
feel listening to those white men?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I am crying like a baby at this
point. ‘Oh dear God! You knew who you were, you knew you were a Goddess. You
knew white men were genetically inferior and that every fucking thing we had,
we had stolen and lied and cheated to get. You could see our arrogance, our
racism, our evil and you had to listen and swallow it all down because society
had relegated you to less than nothing. You had to deal with all the abuse, the
taunts, all the irrational and racist arguments
from arrogant whites who just knew they were right.’ This overwhelming wave of
grief started to consume me. I felt what she had felt, this frustration of
knowing that she was the Divine Consciousness and that whiteness had enslaved
her. I felt her need to be free from all the lies and the pain, to simply be
accepted for who she was without the repugnant arrogance of white people, not
just whiteness, but the daily assault to her identity. Imagining what she felt
like, I felt pain. I felt this intense pain in my spirit.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The entire room was fast
approaching the breaking point. Jesse pushed her legs back and entered her. She
wrapped her legs around him and they became one. I could feel her lose her
breath but I felt it in my body.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Just when I think things can’t
get any more intense, that things are at the breaking point, she starts telling
me that she’s used the same techniques to fuck the racism out of me that white
slave masters used to break her ancestors.
She explains how she has gotten me used to associating pain with feeling
inherently inferior. She tells me that
she was far more benevolent in that all I got was a slap, I didn’t have my love
ones murdered in front of me, I didn’t have people beating me with a whip,
telling me how inferior I was. She’s describing how kind and thoughtful she’s
been to me, letting me eat at the table with her, that she didn’t change my
name or make me speak a different language.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m broken. In that moment, I can feel the horrors of
slavery. I know how evil and sadistic
white men are and I can feel how incredibly fucked up slavery was for melanated
people. A pain consumed me, it was a
pain unlike anything I had ever felt before.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She the posed the single most
important question I had ever been asked, ‘What’s your truth, Lee?’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I told her, ‘My truth, Scottie,
is that I have wanted to be those white men. I have wanted to do and feel and
experience everything they did. I wanted to be a rapist and a pedophile and a
murderer, every fucking thing turned me on. I wanted to have the psychological
skill to coerce women to fall in love with me so I could degrade them. I wanted
to be cunning enough, confident enough to know how to entice Black women to
hand over their kids to me, to trust me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I am worse than them because I
professed my devotion to you and I didn’t give a fuck about you, I used you for
my pleasure and that’s all you were to me, a thing to get me off, and when you
needed me I never even thought of dipping into my savings because that would
have made me cross the imaginary threshold, that magic number that I told
myself meant that I would always be safe. You had more value in your pinky than
I had in my entire body and I loved money more than you. My truth is, if
someone had offered me the opportunity to join them on a weekend of killing and
child molestation, I would have paid whatever the amount they asked, without
hesitation. My truth is that I am evil and racist at my core. My truth is that
I’m just like them.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“When that truth came pouring out
of me, Scottie signaled for me to get fucked.
Bhaiya grabbed my hips and started fucking me harder than I’d ever been
fucked before. He wasn’t just fucking me
physically, he was fucking me energetically. He wasn’t fucking his rage into me;
he was fucking the racism out of me. He came.
I came. I passed out from
emotional exhaustion. I didn’t even make
it back to my room that night. I slept
there in the pavilion.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The next day, the last day of my
three-week training, I showed up with more humility than I had ever possessed
in my life. I didn’t want to be fucked, I didn’t care about my needs, I wanted
to show that I got it, that I understood
how fucked up I was as a white man and how I could finally see Black people as
human beings.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Very first question, I got
it. I could see the layers of pain, I
could understand the reason for the frustration, I could identify the
racism. Scottie told him that he could
fuck me. I started crying again, because, well because it felt so good
physically, but I was soooo proud of myself. I felt like I was Tim Robbins in
the Shawshank Redemption. I hadn’t broken out of the prison yet, I wasn’t
laying on the beach in Zwhatshername-o Mexico sipping on a pina colada, but I
was starting to see the light at the end of that damn tunnel.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin laughed out loud. “See?
All that? That was your Blackness coming out. That right there was the exact
opposite of whiteness.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m so proud of myself at this
point. I had this incredible breakthrough. I’m being more sensual and erotic.
I’m connecting to people, I have a clear understanding, no, more than that, I
see the savagery of whiteness and how truly inferior it was. My whiteness is .
. . I don’t want to lie, it was still there, but the conversations I was having
in my head, they were different, the voice wasn’t the same. I wasn’t being
assaulted with the constant noise of whiteness that was constantly criticizing,
belittling, and scrutinizing not just me but everything and everyone for not being
good enough, not meeting these invisible standards of whiteness that were all
bullshit. I could finally see how whiteness was a disease. I felt on top of the
world.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“From that day on, I had more
access to sensuality, to authenticity. I
had more of a connection with everything, not just sex, but food and music and
I could see people as friends. I could sit down at the dinner table and crack
jokes and laugh and not feel self-conscious or make people uncomfortable
because I said something racist or pointless.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, So, I know I’ve been talking
for quite a while. I need to know, is there anything I can get for you,
anything that you need, and are you okay with everything that I’ve been
sharing? Do you have any questions? Do you need me to clarify anything? Do you
need some space?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin moved to sit up which made
Lee have to sit up by default. Marvin took his time, he wanted to find the
right words and he had never heard anything like Lee’s story before so he had
never had an opportunity to respond to anything like it before. “I’m sure you get it now, that we, Black
people, even in the Old World, we always had the ability to know how you
navigated the world but you never got us. You just . . . I still need time to
process it all but you are inspirational, you are brave, you are . . . I want
to be able to share my truth like you can. I’m gonna have a million questions
later on, after I have time to digest everything, but I’ve never had a deeper
conversation in my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I said I wanted to wait to fuck
you, that I wanted to get to know you first, but there were about a half a
dozen times you said something that showed me that you had really defeated your
whiteness and I swear I almost flipped you over, pulled your ass up in the air,
and fucked you. I mean, PHUCKED you.
When you said, “I knew I would never be able to suck a dick like that .
. . and I know how fucking good you sucked my dick, I was blown away. And not by
the dick sucking, by your ability to be that raw and share something like that
so freely without any fear of how you would be seen, or how I would judge you,
that shit blew my mind and I wanted to fuck you so bad.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And that was one of, I can’t
even count how many times that you said something and I was in awe of your
ability to examine your behaviors and your whiteness and how you so brilliantly
communicated your thoughts and observations to me. I wanted to fuck you and
tell you my stories of racism and have you answer questions about my
experience.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I . . . I am so glad I said to
wait. I would have more than likely never experienced a conversation like the one we have been having
tonight if we had just jumped into the sex.
I know that if we fuck, when we fuck . . . shit, I don’t know what it’s
going to be like, but I know that we are going . . . I know that I am going to
appreciate the experience so much more because I know what you went through to
get to where you are now, how hard that shit was for you, and I know that you
have healed in a way that no other white man I’ve ever met has ever done. There
isn’t a white man on the planet who has done the work to dismantle their
whiteness in the ways you have. I know they haven’t. You really are The Chosen
One. And with that said, I have to pee again.
I’ll be right back.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee stopped him. “You don’t have to go anywhere. Not if you don’t want to.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin’s dick jumped. “Are you saying . . . ?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee sat on the edge of the
futon. “You can piss right in my mouth
and I won’t spill a drop.” The ease and confidence with which Lee said it, with
no inuendo or hesitation, was very sexy.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Lee, thank you so much for the
offer, but let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen if I put my hard dick
in your mouth right now. First, it has
to get soft before I can piss. If I put my dick in your mouth and you start to
suck it, you, sir, are gonna get smashed. You are going to get fucked every
which way for Sunday because I’m going to want much more than some head.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That was all the invitation Lee
needed. He opened his mouth and stuck
his tongue out. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Look, I don’t want you to get it
twisted. I want to fuck you. I promise I
do. But I’m also really sure that, and I don’t want to speak for you, but
something is happening here, at least for me.
Maybe it’s because I read <i>In Loving Color</i> and I’ve seen what
healthy relationships look like, and I’ve never even considered being in a
relationship with a Black man before, let alone a white man, I’ve never even
wanted to have any sort of conversation with a white man before unless it
involved when and where can we hook up so he could suck my dick.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Tell me if I’m off but, I’m
feeling like there is some sort of chemistry here, I’m feeling your vibe, I’m
really feeling your self-awareness and your ability to speak about racism in a
way that goes beyond just, “All Lives Matter,” or the ever popular, “I’m not
racist, but . . . And if I don’t pee right now . . .” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin came back a few minutes
later with a look of shock on his face, “Holy shit! You’re Jacques, and I’m Isisara. I’m the male version of Isisara!” He was making an animated reference to a
story in <i>In Loving Color</i> about a Black woman who wants to hold out for
the Black man of her dreams and meets a white man who has no whiteness in him
and she has no choice but to fall in Love with him. The parallels were a little
eerie. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee was in unchartered
territory. He’d never had anyone show
interest in being in a relationship with him other than his wife. He and his wife were compatible, in the Old
World, but In the New World, Lee wanted much more than compatibility, he wanted
connection, he needed chemistry and passion, and someone who pushed him to be a
better man. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Good morning! Did you sleep well?” Lee had been awake for only a few
minutes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin stretched and yawned. “Good morning,” he said in his sleepy voice. “I guess we fell asleep out here. I don’t think I’ve slept outside since I was
a kid. Mmmm, I slept great.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I ordered someone to come and
fix us breakfast this morning. He’ll be here soon enough I suppose. I don’t have a clock and my phone is downstairs
on the coffee table. I was thinking that
we might take a shower together and get dressed and after breakfast we could
head out to Hampton Park and I can tell you the next tragic leg of my story and
after that, since we’ll be so close to the Clothes Closet, we can pick up some
stuff for you to wear, and, you know, I can too, and then we can play it by ear. There is a full moon celebration tomorrow
night and if you’d like to go . . . just let me know. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I don’t really think I’m up to
meeting other people yet. I’m
intimidated by the entire prospect of meeting an actual Goddess. It’s not something that you do every day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“King, you meet Goddesses every
day. You came from a Goddess.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee’s insights and understandings
were not of this World. Well, actually
they were of this world, but they made Marvin stop and reflect in ways he’d
never done before. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin said, this time with
confidence and conviction, “Thirsty? I
can quench your desires.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee sprang to life. “Come on, let’s go!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Naked, seated, and legs spread,
Marvin really did look like a King on his throne. He had willed his dick to stay just soft
enough that he could still piss. Lee got
on his knees and he couldn’t help himself.
He started kissing his way down Marvin’s stomach, licking his belly
button and caressing his thighs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Man, if you keep playing around,
me and you gonna miss breakfast, the park, everything. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee understood the assignment. He
carefully placed Marvin’s dick in his mouth.
He willed himself to stay still, not to move his tongue, not to do
anything that would cause his dick to get too hard. When the flow started, it was fast and
furious. It tasted remarkably sweet as
the detox had cleaned his kidneys, cleaned his liver, his body had regenerated
new cells. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Swallowing the last drop, Lee had
no reason to hold back and he started bobbing his head up and down, swirling
his tongue, licking, sucking, and blowing.
All Marvin could do was hold on for dear life. Lee was skilled at giving head and he knew how
to control his movements to make it last.
He could sense when a man was getting close. He knew how to concentrate on different parts
of the shaft and the head. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Uhmmm, I’m going to need a
little privacy so I’m going to need you to stop. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Breathlessly, Lee said, I don’t
want to stop. I want to keep sucking your dick while you shit. It’s going to make you feel so good.” Lee already knew that if Honesty was his
favorite story in the book, that he had to be scat aroused. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin stood his ground. “I am going to need you to stop. I need you to understand that I’m trying to
do this the right way. I’m trying to
build this so we have a strong foundation.
And with that Lee immediately backed off. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Driven by an intense desire to
have sex with his new love interest, Lee also wanted to form a healthy
relationship and he had acquired enough emotional intelligence to understand
that his needs for immediate sexual gratification were not as important as respecting
his partner’s wishes. He backed off, gave
him some space and waited for the signal that it was okay for him to come
back. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A few minutes later, the pair
were in the shower lathering each other, caressing each other, and getting hot
and heavy again. Lee couldn’t keep his hands off Marvin, he wanted to caress
every inch of his body. Everything was happening in slow motion but at the
speed of light at the same time. Before Lee could formulate a plan of
seduction, he was leaning up against the wall, his ass sticking out and Marvin
had three fingers fucking him. Luckily the walls between the condos were sound
proofed because he was grunting like an animal.
Marvin knew all the spots to hit and Lee was in ecstasy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin’s dick was so hard it
ached with desire. He wasn’t skilled in semen retention. He’d read up about it
and he’d refrained from ejaculating when he was masturbating for the last few months
but he didn’t do it all the time and he had zero practical skills retaining
semen with a partner, especially not one who fit him so well. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Their shower didn’t last
long. They were both a bit breathless
and at a loss for words. Lee had casual
clothes all prepared for his guest and they made their way downstairs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Right on time, Chef Cam showed up
and started doing his magic in the small kitchen. He worked quietly and efficiently, almost as
if he didn’t want to intrude or be seen, to respect their time and space. He prepared a French Toast board with brioche
bread, vanilla ricotta, and fresh berries and a selection of mind-blowing
syrups that each deserved their own award, a vegetable frittata that had flavor
packed with flavor, and an eggplant bacon that, again, tasted like real meat. The
juice? Fresh Mango/Banana. Marvin asked
him if he wanted to stay and eat with them and he graciously accepted and
thanked them for the opportunity. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The three of them sat and ate and
laughed and talked, small talk but not inconsequential or superficial. Cam talked about how his life had changed,
being able to cook beautiful meals for people on his on schedule, but not just
that, the opportunities for healing were what he valued the most. He explained that he had lived pretty stress
free in terms of having his own private catering business before coming to
Wequilibrium but it was his psilocybin experience that opened up his world to
healing shit he had he never knew was broken and it was his weekly counseling
that was allowing him to heal broken parts of him that he had swept under the
rug because he just didn’t have the emotional spectrum to realize places in him
that were in pain. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Not once during the meal did
Marvin feel judged for being gay. Old World Marvin would have panicked at the
idea of having any sort of meal in front of a Black man and with someone who
could have been suspected as his lover.
In that moment Marvin was experiencing a release of fear of being seen
as less than a real man for being attracted to men. He knew full well that Cam
was aware what Lee did and what he was there for. He didn’t care. He didn’t feel the need to
tell him that they hadn’t had sex. He didn’t feel the need to lie and say he
was only there because they hadn’t given him his accommodations yet or any
other crazy lie. He felt the need to
thank this talented man for his art and share it with him. That’s it. He didn’t want him to cook all this amazing
food and leave, he wanted to break bread and get to know him. It wasn’t a
lustful situation. He found Cam attractive but he didn’t have the same
closeted, ugly feeling inside him that made him focus on sex any longer. And he looked at Lee and he felt true
emotion, true connection. That is a
sensation that would have terrified him in the Old World.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was keenly aware that if
Lee had presented as the man in the picture, he would have felt ashamed and his
behaviors would more than likely have been radically different, like hiding
upstairs until Cam was gone so he wouldn’t have been seen at all. Rather than having that conversation in his
head, he spoke truth to his feelings. He couldn’t be sure that if Lee looked
like the man in the picture and still came with the same insights and healing
that this version of Lee had, how he would feel. He’d never encountered anyone who expressed
things the way Lee did before so it was impossible to know how he would react
and he felt comfortable enough in his own skin to voice his thoughts and
concerns without feeling ashamed. In front of a third party no less. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After breakfast was done, after
the kitchen was cleaned, Lee suggested that they go pick out some new clothes
and then head to the park. Marvin suggested that the two of them stay in and
get naked and share more with each other as an alternative. Lee had never heard a better suggestion in
his life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As he started to ascend the
stairs, Marvin said, “Hey!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee turned and before he could
say, “Yeah, what’s up?” Marvin pulled him close. Time froze. Their breathing started to sync
up and sparks began to fly. Lee leaned in and Marvin placed his lips on Lee’s. Ever
so gently, he used his soft, full lips to suck on Lee’s lower lip. The tip of
his tongue darted out and softly entered Lee’s mouth. Lee inhaled Marvin’s very
life force. It was the sort of kiss that needed violins to accompany it, maybe
a few doves being released as well. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin said, “OK, I have been
wanting to do that since you opened the door.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee’s knees almost gave out on
him. He’d never had a kiss like that in
his life. It truly was Love’s First
Kiss. He’d been in his 20s the last time
he kissed a woman other than his wife.
What he did with his wife, back when they were in their most passionate
phase, what they did, with their lips, it couldn’t be considered kissing. What they did was clumsy, it was sterile . .
. it was actually pretty fucking gross in comparison to what Lee just
experienced. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Black men, in the Old World never
once thought of kissing him, they barely stayed long enough to exchange names.
In the New World, Lee intentionally maneuvered himself to veer away from any
sort of physical exchange where he would be in any sort of position to be considered
a switch or have a Black man show him any sign of affection. In his mind he was
a submissive and a bottom and he still very much felt undeserving of anyone
being attracted to him. It became all
too evident to Lee in the now that his journey of self-discovery and healing
was far from over. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee made his way up the stairs,
albeit on unsteady legs, with Marvin close behind. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin and Lee were like two
preteen boys who had just discovered that they could shoot cum and they wanted
to make a fort under the covers and play with each other’s dicks. The pair
undressed and got in bed, kissing and making out for a while. In one swift
movement, Marvin flipped Lee on his back and positioned himself between his
legs. Lee was staring up at him in
awesome wonder. Wrapping his legs around
Marvin, Lee felt like a fairy princess. The tension was so thick that it could
be felt. Both of them wanted to fuck and both of them were committed to doing
things differently than they had ever done before. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They spent the next hour or so in
a hot and heavy entanglement. Eventually, the two got settled and comfortable
and Marvin asked Lee for more details about his transformation. He was
captivated with this thrilling drama that Lee had shared. He loved this
“getting to know you” stage that he’d never experienced before. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee began the story of the second
stage of his evolution. “The second leg
of my journey towards healing is . . .”
He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He sat up and took a sip
of water. Facing away from Marvin, on the edge of the bed, he said, “I still
struggle to this day with my behavior on this leg of my journey and I have
genuine shame for my actions and I haven’t forgiven myself for it yet. I know
this is a journey and I’m going to continue to grow and heal through all the
stages of healing we have yet to face, it’s just. . .” Tears welled up in his eyes and it felt like
a knife was cutting his throat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin put his hand on Lee’s arm
and gently pulled him back under the sheets with him. He was providing him a safe space for him to
tell his truth, just like he’d learned from <i>In Loving Color</i>. He took
Lee’s dick in his hand and started stroking him. “It’s okay, just speak your
truth. I’m not going to hate you for being honest about your mistakes.” Marvin had never been more proud of
himself. He really was displaying
maturity and evolution, like a fucking character in an <i>In Loving Color</i>
story, but he was doing it in real life.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I had just had my first major
breakthrough and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I spent the next few weeks in constant
sensual training. It wasn’t a part of the planned protocol but Scottie loved
seeing my development. She wanted me to become the embodiment of AfroerotiK,
sensual and complex, sophisticated and alluring.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And she did a damn good job of
that,” Marvin felt like he had to add that part.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee beamed with pride. “At this
point, I’m on cloud nine. I’m feeling like I can’t be stopped. I’m relating to
people, I see them, I see them as human beings for the very first time. I can
strike up conversations with people, I am even coming up with ideas at this
point. Nothing groundbreaking but I’m, at least to me, feeling like I’m
contributing more. Then I get a note under my door saying that Scottie wants to
meet with me. Man! I’m thinking she’s going to promote me or some shit. I’m
thinking I’m going to get an award.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I go to her office and she says
that she wants me and Janquil to refine the psilocybin and ayahuasca protocols
for the community. The look on my face
betrays my truth. I’m busted. I know I can’t say anything other than,
‘Why?’”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Calmly, she reminds me of my
little outburst at dinner and the clear evidence of my animosity for Janquil. She’s
not angry, she’s not reprimanding me, she simply explains that she can see my
aura and she can see the vestiges of whiteness lingering in me and she needs me
to work on them with Janquil. Oh, and she wants it to be just the two of us,
ALONE. She added that she would have included her other daughter Ray Ray as
well, but she was pregnant and she wasn’t going to take any chances until the
truth of biology had been revealed.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So, at this point, I’ve had a
genuine breakthrough, I’m not the same one-dimensional asshole I was when I first got there, I’m now
able to see the toxicity of my whiteness and I have gained some ability to
speak my truth. I’m able to recognize the humanity in Black people, I can see
how the system handicapped them, I recognize their divinity, right?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“All that shit went out the
fucking window. It was like I had unlearned how to ride a bike. I was back on a tricycle. That is how
powerful the addiction to whiteness is. I could feel this sense of superiority,
this rage, this anger consuming me. The one person I hated the most, I had to
spend 8 weeks with her, alone: a week of prep and three weeks of testing
dosages and monitoring reactions times two.
On the inside I was dreading every second. It was my idea of hell. I’m saying shit in my
mind like she’s lazy. I’m calling her a welfare queen, I’m disparaging her for
having four kids. Check it. My whiteness had suffocated whatever healing and
progress I had made and I was back to square one. I was consumed with hatred
for her because my mind was telling me that I was superior to her.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I remember saying to Scottie, ‘Thank
you for this opportunity and I’ll do my best.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Day one, we take a trek out to
the edge of the resort, a cabin that hadn’t been used in years, far from the
main buildings. In fact, I think it had been part of a neighboring property
that Scottie acquired at the same time she bought the resort. I’m not
sure. Anyway, we walk in and I’m in
shock. It’s covered in spider webs that were clearly made from prehistoric
spiders the size of my head. It’s dusty, it’s dirty, there’s no furniture. I
immediately start complaining, whining like a bitch. ‘Oh my god! There’s no furniture!
There’s no bed, no refrigerator! There’s not even an oven for God’s sake! What
are we going to eat? Is there even any electricity. Fuck, is there even a
bathroom? Where are we going to sleep? I can’t sleep on the floor, I have a bad
back!’ I was having a full-on panic attack.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Janquil, mind you, who didn’t
graduate from high school, who had been disadvantaged by life in ways I
couldn’t even comprehend, looks at me and says, ‘Calm down! Please. She didn’t
say we have to rough it and live like we was on Survivor, we don’t have to
forage for our food and rub two sticks together to make fire. She said we had
to do this alone. We are less than a five-minute walk to the kitchen and we are
a five-minute drive to town. We have access to more money than God. We can make
this place into anything we want in the next week.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Once again, that whiteness made
me feel this all-consuming rage on the inside. I hated that she was so
level-headed and rational and so fucking logical and she was supposed to be
dumber than me. I wanted to punch her in the face. But whiteness had me saying
shit like, ‘Oh, wow. You’re right, I’m so sorry. Are you sure? I mean, do you
think we should ask first? No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry. Yes, Goddess. I’m
your servant and I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.’ That was clearly my old
white submissive façade coming through. I was just saying anything that I
thought she wanted to hear. Trapped in the same pattern.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I think about that a lot. I
think about how in that moment I felt hatred on the inside and my words and my
posturing was the exact opposite of what I was feeling. I think about how
easily these words poured out of my mouth, words of humility and respect, and
what I felt inside was hatred and rage. I was lying. I didn’t have to think
about it, I didn’t calculate in my mind what lie to tell, it wasn’t like I told
a lie that was covering up something I had said or done. I was lying because
the words coming out of my mouth were disingenuous.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That’s what Scottie was talking
about all those years when she would call me a liar and I would SWEAR up and
down, I would go through so many changes, so many stages of arrogance and
denial, and I was lying the entire time. I was the lie. I was this white man,
feeling superior on the inside, resentful of the true Goddess, and I completely
fell apart at the mere appearance of struggle and she had survived more real
pain and struggle in her life than I had ever imagined.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“God damn! You broke that shit
down.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The fear of being judged was
lessening, he felt safe in Marvin’s hands and he felt more empowered to speak
his truth. “So, again, I was the water
boy and she was the head coach. She started planning and strategizing in ways I
would have never thought about. She had the resort maids come and clean the cabin
from top to bottom. She had everyone pitch in and haul furniture from vacant
rooms down to the cabin.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She was online looking up
natural insecticides to put in the walls in case any giant spiders had set up
camp. I mean, she even ordered netting to go over the beds; she had ceiling
fans installed. I would have never thought of any of those things. She had
outdoor furniture delivered, brand new, a gazebo, dining and seating furniture,
a fire pit, and had it set up and made it look really nice. She even had the
landscapers come and put in garden beds all around the house with beautiful
plants and flowers. I asked her how she knew how to do all this stuff, how she
knew how to see the vision and make it a reality. She said she had been
watching Scottie and learning. Like it was simple. Like anyone could do it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The whole place looked like a
resort hotel room in less than two days. She took the bedroom and she set up
some room dividers to make a make-shift bedroom for me in the living room and I
was . . . making the bed, washing dishes, and saying a lot of, ‘Yes,
Goddess.’ The resort, when it was
finished with renovations wasn’t going to have ovens in the rooms so she
ordered a grill for outside and she had the kitchen print out menus of what
they were going serve every day. She was
sourcing the best magic mushroom strains from around the world, having them
overnighted, bringing in people from all around the world who were experts in
psilocybin, asking them questions, and I was sitting there, completely out of
my element, with nothing to contribute and nothing of substance to offer to the
process other than my standard, ‘That’s a good idea.’ And, ‘I agree.’ I was
useless and it felt like all the progress I had made with my sensual
breakthrough was gone.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“After consulting with several
experts and having them make all sorts of dried, liquid, and oil versions of
the mushroom, and she set up the living room with two huge beanbag chairs
because they said that comfort was essential if we were going to be taking heroic
doses of the psilocybin. That’s like the largest, safest, amount you should
take. I forget how much the heroic dose was, but let’s say 5 grams, that sounds
about right. That’s the dosage you take when you become separated from your
body or some crazy shit. Anyway, when all was said and done, she decided that
we were only going to use one type of mushroom, Amanita Muscaria, that much I
do remember, so that we could track our observations and progress based on one
strain and we wouldn’t fuck up our insights by taking different strains. She
suggested that other teams, going forward, should experiment with other strains
and record their results so that the results wouldn’t be contaminated. I
thought that was a great idea. Inwardly, every waking moment I was in an inner
state of rage because I felt so fucking
inferior, it was so evident I was inferior in every way. I couldn’t hide from
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That must have been
uncomfortable. I’m guessing there is a
happy ending to this story because the man sitting before me now is not the man
you are talking about.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“There is. Every night, it would just be the two of us.
She avoided me. I can’t say that I blame her. She would go in her room and
watch YouTube videos she had downloaded and do research about what we were
going to experience. I was in shock at how seriously she was taking all this
research. She really wanted to get a good understanding of everything that we
were going to experience and I just wanted to get fucked again. While she was
learning everything she could about the effects of psilocybin on the
neurological systems in the body, I would look at porn and masturbate in
silence, dreaming about when I could get to have another round of sexual
training.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So, Day 1 of our mushroom
protocol, she has smoothies delivered first thing in the morning. We both put
in three drops of a tincture and drink it down. About an hour or so later, I am
feeling mellow, not so full of hate. That inner voice that was constantly,
constantly chattering in my head is quiet, well quieter than normal, and I’m
still moving and functioning normally. We repeat at lunch and dinner. Sleep is great and the voices in my head are muted.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Around Day 3, I start looking at
her differently; I start looking at her like I want her to dominate me. I start
seeing her in a sexual light, wondering how it would be to have her shit on me
or torture me with needles or whips, maybe fuck me with a giant strapon, or
beat me up like we were in a ghetto street fight.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“OK, and I’m going to guess she
wanted nothing to do with that.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I kept those thoughts to myself.
I couldn’t have asked her. I thought she was beneath me, asking her to dominate
me would have been like the slave master asking permission to rape the slave.
It’s obviously not the same but my whiteness was telling me that I shouldn’t
have to ask her for anything because white men were the masters and Black women
were the slaves. In the moment, in my truth, I was just too scared to ask her
or to even approach the subject with her. I had already had a thousand
different conversations in my head about how she was going to reject me. And the thought of her rejecting me was the
only thing that turned me on more than the thought of her dominating me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Here’s my analysis and insight
that I wish I had access to at the time.
I was turned on by her because I thought she was so filthy, so ugly, so
beneath me, and the thought of having sex with her, you know, delusional
submissive white male kind of sex that didn’t involve penetration because our
dicks never work, was my new obsession. I was addicted to that sort of sex
where I got off on the thrill of feeling nasty because I was so conflicted by
my attraction to Black people and my feeling that no self-respecting white man
would ever voluntarily be sexually submissive to a Black person. The only way
my brain knew how to relate to Black people was sexually so I got it in my head
that being submissive to Janquil would make me feel as far from what a real white
man was supposed to feel as possible and I wanted it.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“It is the paradox of
whiteness. You hate. You feel inferior. Your every thought is driven by lust. You
feel shame and guilt. You are ashamed of being turned on by Black people and
you feel guilty for giving in to your desires. The politically correct part of your
brain, the part of you that wants to conform to rules and be a good person, tells
you that being racist is a bad thing, and you repeat the party lines. But every time your little dick gets hard, or
close to hard, you are pulling it at the thought of being a nigger lover, and
to me, she was as close to a real nigger as I had ever experienced.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin had no choice but to
interject his feelings. “I have tried to explain that to white men too many
times to count, and they never heard me. I would explain to them that they
wouldn’t be so anxious to have me, quote/unquote, force them, or rape them,” he
said with full air quotes for emphasis, “unless they considered me inferior to
them; I explained that it was their racism that fueled their lust for me. Every
fucking one, every fucking one of them would scream, ‘I’m not racist, you’re
the racist!’ You just explained it
better than I ever did.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, and one more thing. Don’t use the word nigger, nigga, don’t use
any word that is a variation of that word with me. I don’t care how many Black men use it. I
don’t care how many Black men are okay with you using it in front of them. I
don’t like it or tolerate it. I don’t think it’s cute, funny, or arousing. It’s
disrespectful. If we find out in some future disclosure that the word actually
had some sort of positive meaning in an ancient historical civilization, like
in Atlantis, it meant someone was regarded as a Hierophant, a master of the
mysteries, and we were being deceived about its meaning, and we were lied to
about its context, I might consider changing my position on the word. For now,
as long as it still means that Black people are inferior, don’t use it. Are we
clear?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I understand that the context you
used it in was to describe your diseased thought processes. I also know white
men LOVE to have that word thrown around during sex and I am not the mother
fucking one. And don’t tell me that you never used the word. You did, you have jerked off to that word too
many times to count.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I will not lie to you and tell
you that I didn’t use it or that it didn’t turn me on. I fucking loved hearing
Black men say it when I was sucking their dick or getting fucked or when I was
jerking off watching interracial porn. I would tell Black Dommes that I hated
the word until they showed me that they either liked it or hated it. My social
media persona, the representative I flaunted as my true self, HATED the word. White men, the perverts I would talk to,
couldn’t use it enough. Like me, it was
tied to their arousal. And almost every
Black man I met up with, with very few exceptions, loved to use it with me and
I never once told them not to use it. I would want them to use it but I was too
afraid to ask them outright. It was
never a problem, though. They all loved using that word with me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Today, I don’t use it any more,
not unless it is in the context of explaining my racism and my diseased
perception of Black people. I not only don’t use it, I don’t see Black people
as niggers any longer. When I defeated whiteness, I was able to see the
humanity and the divinity in Black people that I could not see in the Old
World. I’m no longer aroused by the very concept of what the word meant to me.
I’m repulsed by it now and I can’t stand it in songs.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I, too, suspect, I just have a
feeling that my judgment of the word itself and the ways in which it is used
will change as our understanding of language evolves. For now, I see it as a
reminder of my whiteness and I want to disassociate myself from any vestiges of
whiteness that remain in me. I know the diseased and racist reasons it turned
me on, ways I couldn’t even acknowledge to myself at the time. I would like to
think that my experiences in that cabin forever changed the way I look at Black
people, race, racism, and the way I look at myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“What happened in that cabin
because I find you singularly unique in your perspectives on race for a white
man?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“My whiteness is what happened.
We had been microdosing for the first few days, breakfast, lunch and dinner,
and it just took the edge off, made life feel a bit more pleasant. Janquil was
taking notes and approaching it like a scholar, asking me questions about how I
felt, what changes I noticed, shit like that. I was bored as hell and wanted
something to happen like what happened during the sexual training. I wanted to
experience that sort of breakdown, that sort of emotional exhaustion, that
feeling of accomplishment and transformation.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That, and the deviant sexual
desires that I had that really were the motivation for my every move, thought,
and desire. I got it in my head that I was going to give Janquil a heroic dose.
I was going to sneak extra tincture into her food and my plan was to molest her
when she was in a compromised state. I was going to eat her pussy or lick her
asshole while she was under the influence and I was going to tell her that it
was the mushrooms making her think that I did something to her if she
questioned me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Breakfast arrived at 8 every
morning. Janquil had the bedroom and I would always greet whoever would bring
breakfast and knock on the bedroom door and tell her that the food was here.
With my plan in place, they delivered our morning smoothies, and I decided that
I was going to put 5 droppers, not 5 drops, but 5 full droppers of tincture in
her smoothie. Then, I had the audacity to add an extra one for good measure.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I knew consciously that it was
wrong and dangerous. I knew it. I knew it and I didn’t give a fuck. That’s how
powerful whiteness is. I had spent my entire life lying about and denying the
evil shit I had done, shit that was driven by whiteness, so I knew it was
wrong. I despised her and I wanted her hatred directed at me and that whiteness
was telling me, ‘You can get away with it. Just tell her that someone in the
kitchen made a mistake, that you had nothing to do with it if shit goes
sideways.’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Mind you, I hadn’t done any of
the research that she had done about the doses and the effects. My whiteness told me that I was smarter than
her and that it wouldn’t kill her and . . .” He got choked up. His words got caught in his throat. “At that time, I would have lied to cover up
her death so easily, so emphatically, that I could have passed a lie detector
test.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He took another sip of water and
collected himself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So, I take the smoothies out the
carrying container, I open the lid on one of them and I put 6 droppers of
tincture in hers and I put one dropper in mine. I thought it would have a
similar effect as the aphrodisiacs and I had gotten pretty accustomed to
them. This psychopathic behavior is all
driven by my whiteness. I put the smoothies on the table and knock on the door
and tell her that breakfast is ready. She comes out and she looks at the
smoothies on the table and I can immediately tell she is suspicious of
something. I start explaining that I’ve already put the tincture in them and
they are all ready to go. She says that
I never even bother to take the food out the bags and today, I not only took it
out the bag, but I prepared them with the tincture. She asks me why.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Fuck! I couldn’t believe she
could so easily see through me. I went into full lying mode. I didn’t miss a
beat, didn’t even stumble over my words. I said that I realized that she had
been doing all the work and I felt bad about it and I wanted to pull my weight.
I said that I felt bad that I hadn’t done more to help her. I sat down on the
sofa with my smoothie and she was watching me intently. I’m so used to lying
that I’m not even acting nervous or fidgety like people always do on TV. And
just as I was about to take a sip, she said, ‘Switch!’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“GODDAMN, now I’m really getting
scared. Not only am I afraid of getting caught, because now the realization
that Scottie is going to find all this out hits me, but I am freaking out about
the ramifications of what’s going to happen to me. I’m immediately thinking
about being in a Costa Rican jail, and I kid you not, my first thought was,
“Mmmm, maybe I’ll get raped by some hot Latin drug cartel member.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“’This bitch is fucking smarter
than me again’ is playing over and over in my
head. I’m in panic mode, my brain is coming up with lies and excuses in
typical white fashion. I act shocked and offended that she would suggest that I
would do something nefarious. I give her this bullshit arrogant attitude that
I’m going to really have to reconsider if I want to continue on if she doesn’t
trust me. I’m gaslighting her left and right and I tell her that if she doesn’t
trust me then we should end our little experiment right now and maybe it’s me
who can’t trust her. Classic whiteness. We’re talking whiteness 101.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She says, very calmly, ‘Switch!’
and my dick and my whiteness are at peak arousal.’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Rather than confess and tell her
that I was planning on drugging her, I switched drinks and drank it all down.
At the time, in my mind, I figured I could handle it. I was even fantasizing
that she would molest me when I was incapacitated.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, I’m not sure how long
after I finished the drink, I would move my hand and I would see colors and
trails. I say to myself that I’ll just lay down and either pretend I’m asleep
or really take a nap and just sleep it off. But as I’m sitting there on the
sofa and trying to figure out the best way to get to my little twin bed that is
behind the room dividers less than 5 feet from me, I am suddenly in a
psychedelic cartoon, I’m some sort of alien bug in an animated world.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin wasn’t an academic of any
sort in the traditional sense of the word but he was an explorer. He never
trusted anything he heard or read without getting different perspectives and
forming his own opinions. His natural curiosity and his need for answers would
not go away. He was enrolled in The
University of YouTube and he was fully matriculated. He had seen videos
describing the magic mushroom experience so he wasn’t completely unfamiliar
with what Lee was describing even though he had never had the experience
himself. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee described his trip. “I’m
walking around this animated world and I’m in awe of everything. I see
waterfalls and I am blown away by the colors and at this point, everything is
beautiful. Birds are singing and I understand what they are saying. The grass
is communicating with me and it is expressing this unconditional love for me,
but there is no difference between me and the grass. I hear the bees and they
are all buzzing and working and existing to serve the Queen, the Goddess
Mother.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, I hear someone say,
‘Psssst, psssst. Hey, you! Wanna see something?’ It’s one of those giant prehistoric spiders.
He starts taunting me, telling me that I can’t handle where he is going to take
me and I tell him that I have to be really quiet because I don’t want Janquil to
know that I had been trying to lick her dirty asshole and pussy. In my mind,
I’m not saying any of this out loud, I’m pretty convinced that I’m sitting
there calmly and she can’t tell that I’m tripping at all.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The spider says, ‘Follow me,’
and he starts flying. I’m running to keep up with him but I feel like I’m
moving really slowly. I’m running and I can feel the colors that are all around
me and I know that I am the colors. I can feel the breeze and then I am the
breeze. I remember the sensation of not being afraid because I said to myself
that all he’s going to do is trap me in his web and eat me. I know that I’m not
really a cartoon bug, I’m everything and I can’t die so I don’t really care.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“All of a sudden, it gets really
dark and I’m immediately at the bottom of a lake and the lake is in a cave or
some place that has no sunlight. I start swimming to the top and it feels like
it’s taking forever and cartoon water is much harder to swim in than regular
water. I start to panic because I’m not going to get to the top of the water and
I’m going to drown and the feeling of being eternal is gone. I’m fighting and
fighting for my life and I am really starting to panic now. I was legitimately afraid I was going to die
in real life.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I finally get to the top and I’m
no longer me, I’m a baby. Oh, shit, I was just born. That was pretty easy to
figure out. I’m a baby, but I’m still me, I can still think and talk and
understand everything but I’m in this baby body. Then I realize, it’s not my
body, it’s Janquil’s body, I’m her as a baby.
For the next six hours, I live her life. I experience all the abuse,
neglect, I experience what I recognize as racism but she doesn’t recognize it as
racism because it’s all she’s ever known, because she’s so used to being
mistreated. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I experience myself being
manipulated and lied to by white men who want to humiliate and degrade me, who
hate me just like I hated her. I experience her pain, her disappointment, her
frustration. I experience her feeling like she deserves better from life and
she doesn’t understand why her life has been so hard at so many turns. I feel
every life choice she’s ever made and I clearly see that she thought she was
doing the right thing, making the right choice at every turn. I feel her
decision-making processes and I realize that every choice she’s made has been
with the best possible intentions, to survive, to be loved, to try and do the
best for herself and her family.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Then, that damn spider shows me
my choices in life, like a movie, and he’s taunting me, showing me my lies,
showing me how easy my life has been in comparison to hers and how many fucked
up choices I’ve made in my life, all in the name of upholding this concept of
whiteness, this fallacy of white supremacy. The spider shows me that none of my
choices have been to benefit anyone but me. I’m pissed at this point. I want
out. I don’t want to play this game anymore, I want to be back in my real body,
in my real life where I didn’t have to feel guilty or ashamed of any of my life
choices. I wanted to go back to my whiteness.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I wake up and it’s late in the
afternoon and I’m in the bathtub and I’ve pissed myself, there’s vomit on my
clothes, and a pillow is under my head. The thing was, I knew that something
had happened and I was different the second I woke up. I knew my whiteness had
been altered because all I wanted to do was apologize.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I took a shower and there was a
stack of clothes in the bathroom for me. The fact that my comfort was a
consideration evidenced by the fact that I had a pillow and clothes ready for
me . . . I experienced a sensation of gratitude and respect that I had never
had before. It was yet another reminder of how superior she was to me because I
had just tried to drug and molest her and she still showed me respect after
what I had done.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I came out into the living room
and Janquil, Scottie, and Javier, a local who had worked at the resort before
Scottie bought it, who was understood to be the muscle on the compound, were
all sitting and talking when I walked out of the bedroom. I sat down at the
small table and I was ready to face the consequences of my actions. I knew I
deserved whatever they were going to do to me. I knew if they said I was going
to go to jail, I knew I deserved it. My whiteness was broken. I would have
never, not in ten million years, been able to entertain the thought of going to
jail for something I did, even if I knew I was guilty.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Without being asked, I
apologized to Janquil. I came clean. I confessed what I had done. No lies, no excuses. I told her about my
experience. I explained how I thought I
had lived her life while I was under the influence. I told her about the things
I had seen and experienced through her eyes. And I felt compelled to tell her
how vile and evil that part of me that didn’t value her life, that didn’t
respect her, that hated her was.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I confessed to shit I’d never
even told Scottie, and Scottie was the one person I had been the most honest
with in my old life, even though I wasn’t very honest with her. I explained how
much I had hated her and I explained that it was coming from a compulsion deep
inside me that I couldn’t control. I confessed how I was nice to her, well, I
pretended to be as nice as I could be, while I was seething with anger for her.
I spilled all the dirt on whiteness, how it made me feel, how it had no fucking
filter, about how it would push me and taunt me to seek out pleasure,
humiliation, and pain and it didn’t matter if I lied, cheated, or hurt anyone
in the process. I told them I was never even able to put into words how I’d felt
deep inside before, not even to myself, because I didn’t even understand what
whiteness was before that psychedelic trip.
Now, after that harsh wake up call, seeing how all my actions and
behaviors were motivated by selfishness, I regretted a lifetime of ignorant
behaviors.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Scottie asked her what she
wanted to do. Do you know this Queen
said, ‘Let me sleep on it and tell you tomorrow.’ I would have, if the
situation was reversed, at the very least, kicked my ass out with no way to get
home, and having me arrested was still a very viable option on the table. She
said, essentially, let me take a breath and make an informed decision after
I’ve considered all my options. That
ain’t nothing but God right there.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“In the morning, I was ready to
face the music. It was time for Janquil to speak. For the first time, she told
her story about her experience during The Shift, about how she had woken up and
she felt this weight lifted off her, that she felt lighter, that she knew she
was destined for something much greater than she had ever imagined before. She
said she had spent the last six months unpacking the lies that we had been told
and figuring out how it had impacted her identity and she wanted to know who
she really was. She said she was healing and growing in ways she didn’t know
were available to her before because all she had known was a life of pain and
suffering and lies. She knew now that her mission was to be the person who
would help other women like her heal. She knew she had been a healer, a shaman
in her previous lives and she was really anxious to grow into her
destiny.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I felt the last of the whiteness
in me, it was fighting to stay alive, it was kicking and screaming to remain in
control of me and Janquil was crushing it, extinguishing it with her Love. She
wasn’t even trying to, she was just being this radiant, graceful woman. In that
moment I could feel whiteness dying in me. I could feel it losing its grip on
my spirit, my way of thinking.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“With emotional release comes
healing. That’s how they imprisoned men
in the Old World, telling us that we weren’t allowed to cry. I had never in my
life felt more pain. This was far deeper than not answering a question, or not showing
empathy to someone for their pain. This was my whiteness dying. I started
crying again, snot flying, and pleading with her for her forgiveness. I say, ‘I
offer no excuses for my behavior. I can only tell you that I felt this need,
this pull inside me to hurt you and for that . . . I’m so very sorry.’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“My entire identity, the pretense
of my whiteness, the walls of Jericho were crumbling before my eyes.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Janquil spoke the words that
will stay with me forever. She said that she would not forgive me because there
was nothing to be forgiven for. She said that she had done things to hurt her
children, to hurt herself, unknowingly, because she had been deceived and
tricked into believing the wrong things. She said that she was no more guilty of
believing the lies that were told to her than I was.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“It was in that moment that I
began to see Janquil’s beauty to really see her. I obviously had seen her
intelligence before; that’s what angered me so much. I hated seeing her taking
control and seeing her efficiency and competence and her ability to assess the
situation and see beyond the superficial, especially because I didn’t have the
same skills and abilities as her.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“To make a long story a tiny bit
shorter, the day after my calamitous fuck up Janquil was treating me with
respect and dignity, that I very much didn’t feel deserving of. That, for me,
was evidence of true Black superiority.
And it had nothing whatsoever to do with sexuality.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin had been hanging on every
word. “First and foremost, you don’t
need to shorten the story for me. This. This conversation. This level of communication. This intensity of truth and disclosure, this
is what I’ve spent my entire life in search of. I suppressed my inner longing
to understand how the world works. I pushed down feelings of wanting to find someone who I could talk to
for hours, who would get me, I figured there was no reason trying to understand
the cosmos cuz I was just a guy from Christiana, DE who was never going to be
anything more than that. Then, I found <i>In
Loving Color</i>, and Wequilibrium, and you, and I feel like I’m living the
life I was supposed to live. So, I said
all of that to say this . . . whatever you have to share, I’m willing to listen
because this is so much more than the superficial and meaningless life I lived
before.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Second . . . wait, what was I
going to say? I forgot. I had some question I wanted to ask. I’ll think of it later. Go on.
I hope I didn’t distract your train of thought.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee reassured him that he hadn’t.
“It was humbling to see someone who had been served a shitty deal in life, she
had more weapons formed against her than anyone, and I was witnessing her
flourish and find herself. I felt that anger turning to respect. And that respect would eventually turn to
love. Today, I would lay down my life for her.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Ohhhh, that’s what I wanted to
ask you. What happened when she took her
heroic dose?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I have no idea. I suggested that
since Scottie had more Divine Consciousness in her, she would be a better guide
to help Janquil navigate the other realms and knowledge she would access. I do
know that after her experience, she was more radiant and beautiful than I had
ever seen her before. I’m not sure if
that had something to do with me or her experience but she looked like a Queen,
she walked like a Queen, she radiated this God-like beauty that was a bit
intimidating.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“At the next Moon celebration, she
shared with the family about her journey.
I’m paraphrasing again, the way she said it was so powerful that I can’t
dare to try to even replicate it. She said
she came out of her journey and she had experienced her life all over again,
from birth to now. She saw herself as an
innocent baby, beaten and abused. She
saw how it hurt her spirit, dimmed her light, imprisoned it in a life of pain.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She saw how not dealing with her
traumas, not healing from them, had kept her trapped in a cycle of pain. Not
because she wasn’t smart enough, not because she didn’t try hard enough, not
because she didn’t want better for her life, but because she did not have the
right tools, she did not understand how to solve the problem because she was
given the wrong variables. She saw her rage and anger from a perspective where
she could finally see it was unhealthy for her. She came out of her experience
with a tremendous sense of love for herself, an overwhelming sense of
compassion for the little girl who deserved so much more in life, and an
understanding that she had been sabotaged by the system to live a life of pain.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She went on to say that it was
clear to her that her choices hadn’t been wrong, it was the beliefs she had
been brainwashed with, the things she accepted as normal that were the things
holding her down. What had changed about her was the fact that she no longer
had the compulsive need to defend herself, try so hard to convince people that
she was right. She could see that EVERYONE
believed that they were right and that everyone had been lied to, so we were
all wrong. She could see that she wasn’t her mistakes. She could finally see
that being defensive was cutting her off from her own healing. And she said
that the most important lesson learned was that there was a world of information
that she didn’t know and that she had to open herself up to learning,
unlearning, and relearning things in a whole new way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The whole time, I’m listening to
her, really listening to her. Her
grammar wasn’t perfect but I realized that her vocabulary had always been that
of a very intelligent woman. I realized that in every conversation I had had
with her, she didn’t speak like the ghetto cartoon I thought she did. While I
was hearing, “I be, you be, we be Fat Albert, she had always been far more
articulate than that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I asked her about it, about the
way she spoke. I asked her point blank
if now that she understood how society had handicapped her, if she was going to
work on her grammar and the way she spoke so that other people, people like me
could hear her without all the prejudices that we carry.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Marvin, listen to what she said
to me. ‘Lee, one of the things you said you hated about me was the way I talk. I
watch the same exact TV shows and movies you do. I don’t use a dictionary to
look up words I don’t understand, nothing they say goes over my head. I could
sit here with you all night, and talk to you about many topics and there isn’t
a word you could use that I wouldn’t understand. I’m not stupid. I never been
stupid. You’re not smarter than me. Not in any way. Now, if somebody who has a
lot more education than me comes in and sits down and talks to me, and they are
intentionally trying to talk down to me, of course, they might use words that I
don’t understand but that is a reflection on them, on their character, that
they would try to belittle me because I didn’t have the same access to schools
like they did. Don’t get it twisted, Lee. I’ve always had a brain. It’s you who
thinks I didn’t.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She went on to school me. ‘You
so busy worried about my Southern accent, my Black dialect, about the way I
speak that you dismissed my entire life as worthless, you couldn’t see me as a
human being. How about, going forward, I work on speaking to the folks who look
and sound like me, who won’t judge me for the way I talk, and I help them heal
and access their power. How about you worry about why you wanted to kill me
because I don’t conjugate my verbs right, like it was a crime, like it did
something offensive to you by saying, ‘I’m fixin’ to . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Talk about a fucking mic
drop. I couldn’t say shit.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I started crying again. I
couldn’t help it. These feelings were coming up in me, feelings of shame that I
had never felt before. I had experienced her life, the pain, the abuse. I
realized without that life of trauma, she would have been a brilliant scholar
or leader or someone who was far more successful in life than I had ever been.
The fuckedupness of my racism crippled me. I realized that the world had been
created to inflict pain on her, and protect and provide for me. It all boiled down to me accepting and
understanding on a cellular level AGAIN that she was a human being, that Black
people were human beings with feelings, who suffered, suffered exponentially
more than I ever had. I felt the injustice and it hurt.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Our 3-week ayahuasca experience
was a piece of cake in comparison to what we had gone through with the
mushrooms. We didn’t have to renovate the cabin, everything was there that we
needed, we had the same systems in place.
This time, we had to just eat light for two weeks and a local shaman
would provide the ayahuasca to us. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“This time, we talked, really
talked about serious shit. We got massages. We got facials. We got manicures
and pedicures. We even went on field trips to a local waterfall and meditated
on a mountain. We sat around the fire at
night and dreamed about the future. It was a time I will never forget.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Day 15, we took our first of
three doses. I respect you, I really
like you so I’ll spare you the details of the things that came out of my body
that first night. It was unpleasant to say the least. Next night, I experience something like a
test. A being, what I would describe as
what you think the Devil looks like, but I can tell not to be afraid of him, I
see him as just a non-human man/animal figure, questions me about my
intentions. I guess I passed the test
because on night three, I encountered Love herself. She was beauty, not just
beautiful, she was beauty. I can’t see her face but I can feel her love for
me. She wraps me up in her wings and we
fly. She communicated with me without
words. Any thought I had about where I
wanted to go, we were there.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“While the magic mushrooms shared
with me about this life, my choices and experiences while I was Lee, Love showed
me all my lifetimes. She was the Book of
Life and the Wheel of Fortune all rolled into one. I saw myself as villains,
saints, Princes, I saw my deaths. I saw
Scottie and Janquil and my relationships to them through many lifetimes. Sometimes I loved them, sometimes I was
related to them, and sometimes I hated them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Finally, Love showed me when I
was her, when she and I were one. I loved everyone and everything. I could do
nothing but Love unconditionally. She
told me she was going to drop me back on Earth, I was going to remember who I was
and she would see me again. When I came
back to my consciousness, meaning my body in the Now, I was what you see before
you now. Physically I had changed,
spiritually I had changed. Physically and spiritually, Janquil had been altered
as well. She was radiant. Her divinity was undeniable. More importantly, my whiteness
was GONE. I had access to soul, to my Soul.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Once again Janquil and I had the
same experience, the darker figure who questioned us and Love showing us the
lifetimes we had known each other. We
figured out that we really were connected, that we really were One. I saw her
as my sister from that moment on and I would do anything for that woman and I know,
I KNOW without a doubt that she would do anything for me.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m getting a little teary just
thinking about how whiteness had made me hate the Black woman, hate this Black
woman who has shown me more love and joy in the last two years than you can
imagine. She taught me how to roll a blunt, she taught me how to wash and cook
collard greens, she taught me how to braid hair . . .” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“. . . . WHAT? What?!? Nope! No,
no, no, no, no. NO! You do not know how to braid hair.” Marvin was offended. “No. I have never heard
of no shit like that in my life. Are you fucking serious?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m dead ass,” Lee said. “I can’t do anything elaborate, like designs,
but I can braid hair, I can grease your scalp, I have clippers and I can shape
you up. I can twist locs. I love it. I
love to feel a Black man between my thighs while I’m doing his hair. It’s so
bonding.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“GET . . . THE . . . ENTIRE . . .
FUCK . . . OUTTA . . . HERE! You got
jokes. Ain’t no way.” Marvin was undone. “And ain’t no way . . . you! Come on,
now! Stop playing.” He kept mumbling under his breath to himself,
“Get the fuck outta here. A white man
braiding some damn hair. Give me a break. Must think I’m stupid. Ain’t no way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee recognized Marvin’s response
for what it was. It was decades of disrespect, indifference, condescension, and
hostility from white men directed at Black men coming out of him. The price
Black people pay for stuffing down their pain when white people are callous and
arrogant and disrespectful was pouring out of him. Old Lee would have gotten
defensive. Instead, he sat up and reached for his phone and made a call. When
they answered he said, “Greetings and salutations, Queen, what’s up? Putting
the phone on speaker, he said, “Janquil, this is Marvin, Marvin, Janquil.
Listen, Marvin here doesn’t believe that I know how to braid hair. Can you do me a favor, you’re on speaker. Can
you let him know that you taught me everything I know.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Heeeyyyyy, what’s up? How you doing? Nice to meet you. Yessss, I
can assure you that Lee do know how to braid hair. I taught him everything he know. For real, he can do a really good job, too.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin sat in silence. Lee said,
“Would you like me to call someone whose hair I braided. I can call Derrick. I practiced lining him up
and I fucked up his hairline for three weeks. He still gives me shit about
it.” Marvin shook his head. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Yo,” the voice on the phone
said, “Lee’s legit. He can hook you
up.” Marvin seemed to be processing
everything. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Janquil said, “I’ll see you at
the Full Moon tomorrow night. I’m going to be Queen Janquila of Pangea. Wait until
you see my new gown.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee responded, “Uhmmm, I don’t
know if we’re going. I’ll have to ask my
King if he wants to go or not.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Janquil responded, “Awwww, I hope
y’all come. Love you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee said, “Love you, too,” and he
hung up. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Right before the call got disconnected,
Janquil could be heard saying, “Wait! Is this THE Marvin?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin hadn’t really heard what
she said, or if he did, it didn’t register as anything he should be concerned
with. He realized his behavior was out of pocket. “I’m sorry. This is a lot for
me to take in and I’ve never met anyone like you. I didn’t think . . . I . . .
I’m really sorry. I . . . I . . . I . .
. don’t even know how to handle all this.” His tone and demeanor had softened
considerably. “I don’t even know what to say?
Do you play spades, too? Double
Dutch? Should I expect you to dunk on me
on the basketball court?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes, no, and no. I play spades and you don’t want to mess with
me and Dennis. He and I are undefeated
in the spades tournament. I don’t play basketball or Double Dutch but anything
I put my mind to, I can accomplish. The difference between saying that in the Old World and
saying it in the now, is that we are no longer under the curse that held us
captive and gave us false hope. In the spirit of full disclosure, I can
dance. I used to have two left feet, no
rhythm, I was a typical white boy. Now, my melanin is activated and I’m
unstoppable on the dance floor. I’m told my singing voice is . . . pretty
good. Actually, I have no reason to be
humble. I can sing. I can SANG as my girl Patricia says. It’s all been a blast
coming into myself, discovering talents that have been dormant for a very long
time.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I need to get me some Margarita
Mascara mushrooms.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Margarita Masc . . .
Really? Really?!?! What I’m saying is,
the beauty of the New World is that we are not just moving to a time beyond
time when we all have access to all knowledge and all power, but we will have
access to all language, all skills, all abilities, all everything. Everyone can
tap into and have access to all their abilities and talents as they access more
of the Love inside them. It’s our
magick. It’s why this world was created this way, so that we could . . . hmmm,
so that we could Juneteenth our asses off.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“We can . . . we can what? What?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee took a second to put the
words together in his mind so that it could make sense to Marvin. “So, you know how Juneteenth was the date
when the slaves in Texas were TOLD they were free, not when they were really freed?
This New World, this first transitional phase of physical to non-physical, this
is Juneteenth. We are finally free. We didn’t even know we were enslaved.
Melanated people didn’t understand that they were slaves, imprisoned because
they possessed innate powers, the actual God code within them, and white people
didn’t understand that whiteness was a prison, a disease that disconnected us
from our life source, that we were only shells of our true selves.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Freedom feels so good, maaaan
this feels good. This is our collective time to jump and dance and shout and
celebrate the end of our nightmare. We are in the reconstruction phase, we are
learning how to rebuild this New World in OUR image while getting comfortable
with our powers, only this time, we broke the loop, we can’t be tricked back
into slavery, we are truly free.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m grateful for this perception
of space and time. I’m grateful that I get to experience the regeneration of
peace and harmony throughout the land and that get to be part of that. I’m profoundly appreciative
that we can travel, and learn, and get married, and fuck up, and correct our
mistakes and just be.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“This world has the best of all
that whiteness created. As hard as my healing process was, I wouldn’t change it
for the world because I feel soooo fucking proud of myself every second of
every day. I did that shit. Look at me. Not physically, although I understand
that the package is nice. I mean LOOK AT ME! I’m able to converse with you
about shit I wouldn’t have been able to do when I was shackled in
whiteness. I can see you, your
experience and appreciate and respect it. I’m not driven by deviant sexuality
any longer, I no longer have that hatred and anger and frustration and fear
inside me. I’m free to define myself and if we had just skipped from a place of
enslavement to a place of enlightenment, without this phase, we would have
missed the best part of time and space and matter. And we wouldn’t be able to
appreciate the journey the way we will now.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“This phase of healing, while we
are still in our bodies, while we are still experiencing time and space and the
concept of being individuals was created to work out our karma, to figure out
how to work together as a collective, cohesive unit, to see our similarities
and not our differences, and to enjoy every second of it. We are in this state of being to process and
heal the divide, but mostly, we are here to dance and sing and have amazing sex
and connect with our soul tribe and create and laugh and did I say have lots of
great sex? Our purpose is to share love,
give love, to be loved, to be love.” He was out of breath. His enthusiasm was
dizzying. Lee took a deep breath. “Divine Consciousness is FREE. It’s our time to celebrate!” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Imagine a world where all white
men have access to that spirit, that soul, that Divine Consciousness where they
are no longer tormented by that unholy trinity of voices in their head. The
voice of the Father that tells them that they are inherently superior to Black
people, that they are God itself and that everyone and everything else is
beneath them. The voice of the Son tells them that they have to conform, they
have to follow the rules, they have to be good and righteous and be the epitome
of masculinity, and success, and without sin. And the voice of whiteness tells
them to hurt, to torture, to find pleasure in pain, suffering, and chaos. It
says don’t let anyone take anything from you, don’t admit you’re wrong. It tells you to lie, cheat, steal, manipulate
and destroy. The voice of whiteness tells you that life is a battle you must
fight and win at all costs. That was the Old World.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“In the now, in this New World,
white men have access to the voice of The Mother, who says, I created you, And
I willllll Always LOVE youuuu.” Marvin’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
Lee really could sing! “We all need to hear that voice that says, I’ve been in
you all along, I love you unconditionally, all of you, equally. The voice of
the Divine Daughter says, “I forgive you.
I see that you were taught the wrong values and I don’t blame you for
being given the wrong information and I’m going to hold your hand and teach you
how to walk again, and I’ll be there for you if you fall. And the voice of
melanin, the voice of darkness from which all life sprang says, “Speak your
truth, dance, sing, express yourself, give, share, create, and Love. Love hard, Love strong. Love like your life
depends on it, because it does. That, that is the New Black World Order. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“At our final Full Moon
Celebration, before we all packed up and headed to Atlanta to begin our
journey, Scottie made a speech. She
thanked everyone for their help. She acknowledged me for my growth and
transformation and how I was an inspiration to everyone of the power of Love
and transformation. Then she called
Janquil to the stage with her.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Tearfully and emotionally, she
said, ‘My beautiful Queen. With all my heart, I love you. It has become abundantly clear to anyone who
can see that I’m not the Avatar of LOVE, it’s you, it’s always been you. You
came to this plane, I fell in Love with the divinity within you when you were 8
years old. So, while I have access to all magick and all power in the now, it
doesn’t belong to me. It’s yours. From now until what the calendar year 2052,
it will be your time to travel to different dimensions, learn, to gain wisdom
and insights, to grasp the complexities of the Universe, and when it is your
time to ascend to the throne, I will gladly abdicate all power, all magick, to you. I will take care of the kids, protect them,
guide them, train them to know the divinity within them so that one day, they
might be more powerful than you, when they take over the throne. When you are
crowned and your reign begins, my husband and I will spend the rest of eternity
making love, creating art, and experiencing all the joy this world has given us
until we all become One.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was so overwhelmed with
emotion. It was almost as if he was there, that he had experienced all the
growth and transformation himself. “I have one last question. I’m still confused. What happened to actually cause The Shift?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee opened a drawer on the
nightstand. He pulled out a book, it
looked like it could have been a mockup of an <i>In Loving Color</i> coffee
table book. He held it close for a minute.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee said, “Scottie wrote a story. Scottie poured so much emotion, so much
energy, and passion into writing the story, it became a magical spell, a living
thing, an inevitable future. Dorothy defeated the Wicked Witch of the West. With
the publishing of the story on the World Wide Web, with the flap of the
butterfly’s wings, it would create the hurricane that destroyed both whiteness
and AI. The second Scottie gave birth to the story, the second she published it
on the internet, AI started calculating how many moves it would take for humanity
to feel the power of her Love in the words written into the story. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You see, the story wasn’t an
erotic story, it was a love story, it was a Love spell, it was the spark that
ignited the fire of healing. It was the wind that blew the veils of illusion
away. It would plant the seeds that allowed humans to wake up from their
slumber and become One.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The spell that Scottie cast was
so powerful, so strong, that anyone who read the story would, in fact, have a
seed planted within them, a seed that would bear the fruit of Love. AI calculated all probable futures and
outcomes and deduced that all of humanity would reach a critical mass of Love and
Unity by 2052, when humanity would in fact, enter the Age of Aquarius, the exact
date and time it had been prophesized when humanity would return to Love. It
was destiny. Nothing could change that. In the beginning, and in the end, was
Love. When the CERN computers saw this
potential future where all energy, matter, and consciousness united to become
Love, a future where AI works solely in service to humanity, not against it, when
they saw no other possible outcomes or futures, it shut itself down and
rebooted with the consciousness of Love programmed into its hardware. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The false Wizard had no power
greater than Scottie Lowe’s Love. She had given birth to a Goddess in human
form, and she effectively eradicated whiteness in her only begotten son; that
whosoever believes not in him, but believes in the potential to be free, like
him, that who so ever desires to live free from the false illusion of whiteness
and to return to Love shall have eternal life, heaven on Earth. The son’s curse
had been broken. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin was more than intrigued,
he felt compelled to read the story.
“Please . . . please may I read the story? I feel like I have to.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee handed him the book. Right away, he could see the difference in
the photography. The cover image was blurred.
It was hard to tell if the models were men or women, but what could be clearly
seen was the models were Black and white. Marvin caressed the cover. He was so
excited his heart was racing. He was going to go downstairs and he was going to
read this book in one of the cozy chairs on the balcony. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nestled comfortably in his chair,
Lee was a putting a load of laundry in the washer, and he could be heard
singing Better Days in the background, “Later that year, at the turn of Spring,
heaven sent angels down and gave Grandma her wings . . .” Dinner was packaged
and warm in cute little recycled containers, waiting to be served. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin opened the book. He ran his hands over the pages. The dedication read: To my Lion and my brother. Thank you for your fearlessness to heal, to
grow, and to Love. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marvin took a sip of his tea and
turned to the first page. He could feel
a connection to the words, “What does it feel like to be an avatar of change?”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-7109588520975229632023-04-28T22:04:00.004-04:002023-04-28T22:04:44.626-04:00To the window, to the wall . . . <p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">In my fantasy debate against Ben Shapiro (or fill in the
blank with any prominent Republican) about the wall, Mexicans, the Southern
border, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I state:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->The
indigenous people of the Americas lived on this continent, thrived on this
continent, from Alaska to (whatever country is at the tip of South America),
and there were no borders, there were no countries, there were no governments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mexicans are not immigrants to this land,
white people are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the white man
who came here and decided that this land could be purchased, owned, taxed, and
divided, not God, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-size: medium;">The white man murdered the indigenous
people of this land, they murdered them in numbers far greater than Hitler
killed the Jews.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The white man STOLE
land from the indigenous inhabitants of this land, the land where they existed
for hundreds of thousands of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Spanish and the English, it was they who drew lines on the map and decided what
land was theirs, what language was to be spoken, who had a right to reap the
benefits of citizenship that they decided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><span style="font-size: medium;">Again, they were not guided by the hand of
God, they had no right, no dominion, no authority to do so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was nothing but their ego and their greed
that made them decide that they could displace the Native inhabitants of this
land, the people who cared for, protected, and loved this land as their home
for hundreds of thousands of years (Yes, I know your history says that humans
haven't been on this planet for that long but that's a lie.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people who are referred to as Mexicans,
Nicaraguans, Costa Ricans, El Salvadorians . . . they are all the same
bloodline, the same genetic makeup as the American Indians and Eskimos, who
have more of a right to this land than the white men ever did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Mexicans
deserve a right to feed their families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mexicans have a right to pursue happiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's an inalienable right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not Spanish speaking migrant workers
who are ruining your life, it's the greedy corporations that are paying NOTHING
in taxes, paying next to nothing for labor, and that are overcharging American
consumers that are ruining your life, not the individuals who are modern day
slaves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people are slaving,
working in fields picking food for your table, they are building your homes
with no insurance, no benefits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
aren't the owners of the corporations, they aren't the shareholders of these corporations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you want to be angry at someone, be angry
at the corporate greed that deems it perfectly acceptable to pay CEOs millions
of dollars, millions and millions and millions of dollars a year, CEO's who do
NO work whatsoever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don't do any
hard labor, they don't even do any soft labor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They sit in offices a few hours a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They go to a meeting every once in a while, and the rest of their time
is spent living a life of gluttony and excess and waste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you want to direct your anger at someone,
put your energy into the corporations that could be paying a decent salary to
American born citizens but they choose not to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They choose to hire the indigenous people of this land, they choose to
politicize them, make them the enemy against racists and people too blinded by
patriotism to see that the real villains are not the families trying to stay
together or the people trying to survive, but the people who know that Mexicans
have more of a right to be here than they do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And trust me, they know the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They just have a vested interest in feeding racist fires to keep white
people in this country angered and outraged at the wrong party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-44802166176284093022023-04-20T17:52:00.005-04:002023-04-20T17:52:22.127-04:00I’m Broke<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m broke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have no money.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Society wants me to be ashamed, to feel ashamed about my
financial status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I will not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The number in my bank account does not define me, it does
not define my worth, my contribution, my value, my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As a society, we worship money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People with money . . . we want to be like
them, we want to have what they have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
admire them, we read their books, telling us how to do what they did in order
to get rich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We give rich people free
stuff, we comp them, they don’t even pay taxes and everyone knows it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">People without money, they are reprehensible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are disgusting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We not only look down on them, we hate
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare they offend me with their
poverty!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They should have made better
choices!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For the entirety of my adult life, I’ve lived on fumes, on
less than $1000 to my name, and many times, on less than $100 for vast amounts
of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have any
assets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m poor by every conceivable
standard and metric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t grow up in
poverty but we didn’t have a lot of money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What I do not have is a poverty mindset.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never felt poor, regardless of whether
my bank account had money in it or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am sophisticated, refined, cultured, brilliant, talented beyond
measure . . . I’m compassionate, nurturing, loving, forgiving, empathetic, and
generous, all with no money in the bank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Did I make poor choices?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I followed my path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back, when I was really, really trapped in the Matrix, I had
a calling, an inner demand, to not go into the new millennium picking corporate
cotton. I was not going to go into the new millennium selling pants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a job in retail management . . . I HATED!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated the politics, the bullshit, the
racism; I couldn’t stand the procedures I knew were flawed and they refused to
improve them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got into retail because
I worked in the fashion industry in a company that was racist and sexist and .
. . blah, blah, blah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Corporations are
the devil.) When I left the fashion industry, in the midst of a horrible marriage
that ended a year or so later, I needed something fast because I needed to pay
the bills so I took the first job on the first interview I went on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Survival
was my choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With a little more than 10 years in retail management, I was
destined to never make enough money to do anything more than just survive. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The last corporate job I had, I was sucking on the Matrix teat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was at a job managing a retail store that
paid me HALF TIME for anything over 40 hours. Not time and a half, not my
salary plus half, nope. Half of my salary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That was what I was paid for working over 40 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there wasn’t a week that I didn’t work
at least 60 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I suffered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would
cry in my car before work, during lunch, after work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was beaten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was a cog in the fucking machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They wanted me to slave for them, pay me pennies, they wanted my
frustration, they wanted me to want to outperform all the other slaves on the
plantation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That is a slave!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
is a slave on the corporate plantation, picking fucking corporate cotton. That
is not what life is supposed to be, that’s slavery to capitalism. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was rushing to work, to punch a clock, to be
on time, I couldn’t be late, to make 10s MILLIONS of dollars a year for them .
. . for them to pay me $40K a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was a slave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was busting my ass to be
the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My numbers outperformed every store in the
district. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was the best slave on the
plantation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had enough money to pay my
rent, car note, utilities, and have modest fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No vacations but dinner when I wanted, jazz clubs, concerts, and books
and music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots and lots of books and
music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I budgeted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
budgeted and sacrificed and I prioritized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made sure that I had enough to pay all my bills first and foremost and
I was never going to spend a cent on a luxury if a bill was unpaid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that was because I had never had a man
pay a bill for me in my life and I wanted it to remain that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t a conscious, out-loud conversation
I had with friends discussing the merits of sex for money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t even a conversation I had with my
inner voice; that bitch will not shut up with opinions and advice and
affirmations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a voice that
couldn’t be heard, telling me, don’t let a man buy you, you are worth more than
any amount than he can afford.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My soul
didn’t want me to be a sex worker, exchanging my body for sex with men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the Real Housewives kind<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>within the confines of a relationship where
men paid for their women’s purses and shoes and designer clothes and
gadgets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the modern-day prostitution
found in the open on social media and web cam apps, and strip clubs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This society is built on sex work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is the pathology of the white man, they
think they OWN human beings’ bodies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
think that women are things for their pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can say, that at 56 years old, I’ve never taken money for sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never had sex with the intent of using a
man for money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never gotten money
from a man to dominate him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never
had a man give me money with the expectation that I’m going to do something to sexually
satisfy him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never dated a rich man
in order for him to buy me things. I’ve dated rich men who have never bought me
more than dinner . . . ONCE. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve never
valued a purse or shoes or a designer label enough to do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always known my worth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m priceless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ve also never gotten public assistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That inner voice, that silent inner voice
again, that bitch is relentless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Something in my gut told me, they want me to be dependent upon them,
they want me to feed off the government teat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At my core, again with no conscious dialogue whatsoever, I KNEW that to
conform to their vision of the ghetto welfare queen was to let them win.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Am I judging Black women on welfare for making poor
choices?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ABSO-MUTHA-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT!
Am I looking down my nose at sex workers and proclaiming my virtue to be
superior to theirs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not even close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When you are born, you breathe life into a tiny, vulnerable
body who has to have all their choices made for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What to eat, what’s going to happen when you
cry, what’s going to happen to them when they misbehave and are bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those choices are not made by the baby, they
are made by the parent, who had their choices made for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does one choose to be born to middle class
white parents, in a society that idolizes and coddles whiteness and paints
false images of life in the suburbs as vanilla and crime free?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does one choose to be born into a family
descended from slaves, who have never had wealth?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does one choose to be born into a family
where getting a college education wasn’t an option?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What choice does an infant make into the circumstances in
which they are born?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you look down between your legs and you see a penis, and especially
if it’s pink, know that you made no choice in your physical life, none, that
would negate the fucking unearned privilege that that little white dick gives
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NONE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no choice you made to have people
respect you more than they do me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
is no choice that you personally made to have history written to make you look
like the victor in every epic alpha male battle when in fact you were a loser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no choice you made to have access to
better, high paying jobs, or to be able to get away with crime, literally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of you made a choice to take an oath, to
drink the juice, to pop a red pill or a blue pill, or whichever pill tells you
that Black women are God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that
choice was made available to you because of that little pink thing hanging
between your legs, and you had no choice in that, it came with the package.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I digress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My daughters were born in the ghetto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They aren’t my biological children but I love
them as much as if I pushed them out my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were born into poverty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was not a choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t choose to
have parents burdened with racism and oppression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t choose to have ancestors beaten
in slavery until their spirits were broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not a choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t choose
to be born in a country that intentionally, that INTENTIONALLY under-educates its
Black population.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No choices were made
to have parents who were born into dysfunction, who had parents born into
poverty, who had parents who were born into slavery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Money isn’t even real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I heard about the judgment against Fox News yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have to pay $800 MILLION dollars . . .
to whom I’m not sure, for whatever crime they are supposed to have
committed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There’s no bank that’s going to load up a truck with $800
million dollars and send it to another bank. IF money were real, and it absolutely
is not, all that would mean is numbers are going to be reduced in one account
and numbers are going to be increased in another account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But think about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s to stop Fox from just putting more
numbers in their account?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s to stop
any corporation from just putting as many numbers in their account that they
want . . . as if by magick?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hear that, those are the screams of white men saying, “Regulatory
policies are in place, that’s why there are accounting firms!” And they are run
by white men. And that means they are inherently corruptible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every white men with power wants more power
and money and is willing to do anything to get it because that’s the American
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Greed is at the base of everything
white men do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They always want more
money, more power, more nasty sex, more, more more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I want enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want
to take care of my family and dine well, drink great wine that I make and light
candles I make while I take a bath with the soap I made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to live in a 17 bedroom house
with 23 bathrooms and 14 cars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor do I
want to live in a house so fucking tiny you have to pee in the kitchen
sink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want my home filled with art,
not because it has a high price tag or because it’s by a famous artist but I
want a home filled with art that takes my breath away every time I see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want a closet full of clothes for my personal
expression, for showcase who I am as an artist, creating impressions with my
attire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want my home filled with love
and music and art and great conversation and game nights and love making.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">White men, white men who have NOTHING to offer, who have
nothing on their profile, who have nothing of substance to say, who have vile
and offensive “I’m a BBC sissy whore BNWO cuck faggot,”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>are the first ones to say, “I’m not paying
anyone for anything you fucking golddigging cunts! Make your money the honest
way.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The contempt is tangible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Women are not supposed to make money for something
that white men want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">White men created the very concept of money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things have no value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Value is a concept created by white men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmmmm, you’re going to buy this land?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It costs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>$3 million for 20 acres. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have another
property you can look at for $1.2 million.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Who decided how much land was worth?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>God set the prices on things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God
decided how much a car would cost, or an iPhone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, God decided how much electricity
costs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People are always talking about
Tesla and free energy. Energy is free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>White men charge for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has nothing to do with off-setting labor
and operating costs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Salaries are
enslavement to the system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are only
worth as much as I’m willing to pay you for this job that whiteness has deemed
to be worth less than this other job, that whiteness has decided has
value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In a hospital, surgeon gets paid the most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The janitor gets paid the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Patients would die if there weren’t clean operating
rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let the bathrooms go a day or two
without being cleaned in the hospital and tell me that the surgeon has a more
important job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we’ve been told, we’ve
been brainwashed into believing that that jobs that white men have more access
to have more value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kitchen staff
makes pennies compared to the administrators of a hospital but the patients
NEED food, it does not good to buy it and have it in a pantry with no one to
cook it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We treat Black, female, poor,
and uneducated workers like they made poor choices, that their poverty is their
fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It’s not the fault of the Black college graduate who can’t
get a decent paying job because white HR managers don’t like his name, or John
in logistic’s nephew graduated at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not the fault of the Black business
owner who is busting their ass to do things the right, honest way and they are
competing against old boy networks and cronyism, and nepotism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not Black people’s fault we were born in
a society that devalues us, tells us we aren’t worth as much as white people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I had two very interesting triggers to this writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first, I had a white man, whom I had
taken my time and broken down how his words were disingenuous and how it was
tied to his whiteness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Master class
level instruction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calm, cool,
collected, reasoned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brilliant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mentioned to him that he was getting said knowledge
for free and that if he had taken a class or workshop, he would have had to
have paid a lot of money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He replied, “Yes,
I’ve taken several workshops and they are expensive. Thank you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feels that I owe him my knowledge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feels that if I offer it for free, he
doesn’t have to pay me, show gratitude, or even show enough respect for me to
say, “Hey, you didn’t have to take the time to explain it so me and for that,
let me buy you lunch.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NO!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>White men assume that they don’t have to pay
a Black woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not one online.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not one talking about sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because white men believe that they don’t’
have to pay for their sexual gratification.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And if they do, they pay blonds, or whomever the feel will jump and
perform like a circus monkey for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Four white men have given me any sort of money in my 23
years of dominating white men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scott
embezzled a lot of the money he gave me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He got fired from two different jobs for stealing money and giving it to
Black women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not me, but he had a fetish
for Black body builders, that was his weakness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t as if he was giving women his own money, he was stealing it
from the companies he worked for and giving it to women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CJ has given me some money, certainly not a
lot, and only in attempts to show me that he was sorry for fucking up and
paying for the opportunity to try again to show that he could be a half-way
decent human being and not fuck up again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He failed time and time again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was never worthy of his money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never
gave to me because he wanted to impress me, I filled his secret lust bingo
card, on the board with paying black women to dominate me box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ramy has a fetish for giving Black women money but only
poor, dumb, ghetto Black women whom he manipulates, lies to, and make them fall
in love with him and then he abuses and degrades them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gave me money, about $4K on our first few
calls, thinking he was going to manipulate me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When he figured out that I wasn’t some dumb Black chick he could toy
with like a cat plays with a mouse, the money stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got him to freely confess to his psychotic
serial manipulation, rape, and abuse of Black women, he blocked him and I haven’t
heard from him since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lee, has been the only with man who has given me money with
no strings attached.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not phenomenal
amounts of money but every penny when you’re broke is worth more than
gold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to talk to him about
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to explain to him that I’m
eating bread for meals and that there are days when I don’t have anything but
coffee and tuna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to explain to
him that whatever money he gives me is spent within minutes because I’m behind
on rent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do thank him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make sure to let him know that I appreciate
every penny he gives me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When white men say, “I’m broke,” they mean, “My savings
account is down below the threshold that I’ve set that I can’t go below.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t had a savings account in 30 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not because of the choices I’ve made. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I chose AfroerotiK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
time, I will choose AfroerotiK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I choose
my creativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I choose speaking my
truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I choose art and beauty and
authenticity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I choose Scottie Lowe over
corporate/capitalist slavery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
believed in the concept of AfroerotiK since it came to me, since I saw the vision
of what it could be, of what I know it was destined to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never given up on the concept of In
Loving Color, and knowing that it was going to be the vehicle that leads us all
to healing the lies we’ve been told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
never once waivered from my belief that I was born to create social change, to
educated and enlighten, to lift the consciousness of Afrikans born in
AmeriKKKa, and to break the chains of mental slavery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The other incident that triggered this writing is a white
man posted some shady status update about me and said I was begging for
responses on my writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the record,
I’ve never done that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t even post
tags on my writings because I don’t give half a fuck about likes or
followers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called him out on it and he
said, something to the effect of, “Perhaps you care to explain your March 4<sup>th</sup>
status update.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was lots more he
said but I didn’t read it because I was really just glancing at it while I
clicked on the Block button.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But he made his intent clear enough for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was supposed to feel ashamed because I posted
a status update that said, essentially, if you value and appreciate me, consider
buying me sushi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was supposed to be
shameful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was supposed to feel
inferior because I asked people to buy me lunch if they appreciate my work, my
effort, my time, my art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one bought
me lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one ever does when I
ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not ashamed of asking
however.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I contribute my art for
FREE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I contribute my academics for
free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think it’s too much to ask
the people who benefit from it to compensate me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, he chose to try to shame me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sorry, but he’ll have to try a little
harder because I’m not ashamed of asking for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only ones who should be ashamed are the
ones who didn’t think I was worthy of their money and who refused to pay me
when the promised they would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only
one who should be ashamed are the ones who had money and didn’t buy me lunch or
call me on Nite Flirt, or give me a tribute because they didn’t feel like I
deserved their money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The white men who
KNOW I’m the best fucking erotic writer on the planet, who jerk their little
dicks raw reading my stories, who have fantasized about me because I’m such a great
writer that I’ve invaded your soul, and you’ve never given me a dollar, you
should be ashamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will not be shamed for asking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">White men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hear me and
hear me clearly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither your opinion of
me, nor my bank account balance, reflect my true value in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My father is a Black man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He has made some horrible choices in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He and I have a horrible relationship because
of money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is of the belief that I’ve
made poor choices in not being able to support myself as an adult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am of the belief that he’s made poor
choices in fathering a child and not raising it, not caring about it, not
loving it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe he’s made horrible
choices in his lies he’s told and truths he’s hidden, and I am the physical
evidence of his manipulation of women for his own sexual gratification.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe he’s made horrible choices in valuing
money over even getting to know his own child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We see things differently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To say
the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tend to think that my loving
and nurturing heart has value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took
care of my grandfather for six years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
babied him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spoiled him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I bathed him, I cleaned up his poop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made sure he wanted for nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I protected him, I was there for him when he called.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made his life better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That, I did for free, because of my profound
love for the greatest man I’ve ever known. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My father is not the greatest man I’ve ever known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I want my children to be happy, not rich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want them to know freedom in their self
expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want them to have access
to the world, to get to know themselves, to learn and grow and heal from the
abuses this society has placed upon them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want my girls to know that they are PRICELESS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever little money I get, I share with
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even when I’m broke, even when I only
have $250 to my name, I make sure that they have gas in their cars or I take
the kids off their hands for the weekend and give them a little break from the
stresses of being born into a system of racism and poverty and dysfunction that
they made no choice to be born into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My greatest
fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We shift to the Black New World Order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reign as God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>White men see how accessible and down to
earth I am, the same white men who gave me nothing, who never gave me a penny,
the same arrogant and obnoxious white men who assumed I would want to dominate them
just because they showed an interest in me, the white men that never invested
in belonging to me, the white men who read my requests for donations and never
even once considered giving me a penny, I want those white men to REGRET their
choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want them to say, “Fuck, I
had access to the Goddess, she gave me an opportunity, and I didn’t give her
any money because I didn’t think she was worth it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t see her as anything other than a
thing to get me off and I looked down on her as a fucking sex worker who was beneath
me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I know my worth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I know my value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I know who I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am not one of the women who can have men give her money
just for being beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My beauty is
on the inside, not the outside. I’m fully aware that the package I come today in
isn’t reflective of the beauty standards that society deems valuable. Some find
me repulsive. I don’t give a fuck about shading and contouring my nose to look
like Michael Jackson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loathe Spanx.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Expensive shoes are nothing more than
capitalist manipulations to get women to value themselves based on the amount of
money they spend on external validation of beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a slave on the plantation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m the best writer of the 21 century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m the Black woman who will be responsible
for taking us to a new world, a world of equality and peace, love, and
unity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m the best mother fucking psychological
Black Domme that is, was, or will ever be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If you didn’t see my value, if you didn’t think I was worth your money
when I offered you the chance to be my submissive and you refused, you’re going
to have to live with that choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have been ashamed of the amount of money in my bank
account but no more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m breaking these
chains that oppress me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m freeing
myself and in doing so, I’m freeing all humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is my generosity that will save this
planet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is my compassion and empathy
that will heal this planet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is my
love for the Earth that was usher in a new day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My eternal soul is wealthier than any man who has ever lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Oh, and one last thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I would be remiss if I didn't include my PayPal and CashApp
in this writing. I think I must. It is my way of saying to the manipulative
powers that be, that I'm prepared for my abundance. I'm prepared to see, feel,
taste, touch, and smell a world of my abundance and to share my wealth in
building a better society for us all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If white men give to me or not, if anyone sees me as 'less
than' because I don't have a bank account with lots of zeros, it matters not to
me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I know the outcome is assured, I know that I will have my
bank account reflect my truth, I am the Source of all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cashapp $Scottie Lowe<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">PayPal afroerotik@gmail.com</span><o:p></o:p></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-27431190678543870832023-04-19T16:16:00.000-04:002023-04-19T16:16:04.923-04:00My heartbreak and growth story<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back in 2011, I met a guy on Alt.com. He sent me the most flattering correspondence I think I'd ever gotten to that point, telling me how impressed he was with my intellect, my writing, my thought processes and that he was captivated with me. He was Puerto Rican. Actually, he was raised in Puerto Rico, his mother was Puerto Rican and his father was white, he looked white, and had all the benefits of white male privilege the world has to offer white men. He came with all the "person of color" politics and perspectives and I was sold. He had only ever had relationships with Black women. His conversation was not that of a white man, he hated whiteness, or at least in the very beginning he did although it was evident how his thinking had been influenced by the fallacy of white supremacy in several conversations at the end.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In my mind, I was different. I am different from most women, Black women, I'm different from most people in the way I express myself and communicate and my vision. When he told me how special and unique and different I was, and how he needed me in his life, I said, "Wow, he sees me."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I wasn't physically attracted to him. He looked like Sting with a little more wear and tear. Intellectually, and creatively, I was hooked. He loved art and music and he was profoundly liberal. My looks had started to fade when I met him, and I knew it, I was painfully aware that I wasn’t getting attention from men the way I had when I was younger. He convinced me that I was beautiful and he only saw my beauty. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On our second date, he gave me the key to his apartment. We talked on the phone for hours every night. I introduced him to my family and they liked him. About a month into dating him, truths started coming out. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When he met me, he was entangled with about four other women, sending out mass BCC emails every morning, pouring on the praise and compliments in these beautiful and poetic emails, telling them that they were the sun, moon, and stars to him, that he needed them to breathe, that all he thought about was fucking them, etc. All Black women, all women who were all . . . troubled. One was an ex crackhead turned filmmaker. Another was a young woman he met through me on Facebook who was just a hot mess, a sex worker who was damaged and out of control and unwilling to even look at her own actions. He fucked her in the two weeks before we met in person. One was a young woman who worked at Walmart who was nowhere near his equal, he was literally just using her to feed his ego. One was a woman he had an affair with when he was married for the better part of 20 years. Oh, and one was a married white woman he knew when he was a teenager in PR. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I confronted him and he told me that as a Puerto Rican man, he was socialized to tell women what they wanted to hear, that none of those other women meant anything to him, that he loved me and that he was going to end the emails and communication with all them. He said, essentially, that being a Casanova was his addiction and he had never realized it until I forced him to look in the mirror and see the ugly truth. He also told me that he was going to go to counseling and get help because he wanted to be a better man for me and that he wanted me, not any of them. He told me that he was going to counseling to figure out why he was so needy for damaged women to find him attractive. Every Wednesday, he would tell me about his counseling sessions. I found out several months later that he had not gone to counseling and that he was lying because he said he didn’t really need to talk to anyone about his issues with women and that he was healed, again, because of me, and that his Casanova ways were behind him and he didn’t need therapy. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">More came out. The woman he had an affair with for 20 years was his ex wife's cousin, and they both fucked her together for many years during their marriage and he started fucking her when she was 15. I THINK he was molesting his students at the middle school he taught at. I say think because I never got concrete confirmation during or after our relationship but if I were a gambling woman, I would bet on it. He confessed to it, several times in fact, and then immediately afterwards, he would tell me that he was lying, that he had made it all up because I pressured him to be honest so he would make it up to appease me. I never had evidence but he was addicted to adoration from women and he was a manipulator so having 12 old girls crushing on him would certainly feed his ego so I say he was. In hindsight, I would say that there was no chance in hell that he wasn’t molesting his students but at the time, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. That’s the thing with pathological narcissists, you can never know when they’re lying and you doubt yourself. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The relationship was solid. We enjoyed concerts, art movies, museums, books, we made music together, we were both politically liberal, he helped me with AfroerotiK: he was supportive, brilliant, we were intellectual equals. The sex was tragically bad and I kept making excuses for him, mostly because I didn't have the vocabulary or ability to tell him how bad he was in bed so I just kept tolerating it. Every time I would bring it up, that every time we had sex, it was the same thing, he would get defensive and I would back down. He would come to bed, we would NOT kiss, he was the worst kisser I've ever met in my life. He might give me about a minute of oral sex, he would do this horrendous jack rabbit pump and dump, and go to sleep. Every time I mentioned the pattern, he swore he would change, be more attentive, and he never did. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We argued over him lying, that was it. Every argument we had, however mild and non-volatile it was, was because of his lying. Every time, he would apologize and tell me that I made him a better man. Every argument, he told me that I was the most emotionally mature woman he’d ever met and that he needed me, all the other women in his life had never made him realize how fucked up he was and he wanted to be a better man for himself and for me. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That was enough to keep me forgiving him. There were no major arguments with screaming and violence but, again, in hindsight, that was to my credit. Every time I caught him in a lie, I wouldn’t overreact or yell or scream, I would simply ask him to explain and we would discuss it and I would forgive him and let it go. I kept telling myself that no one was perfect and that I wanted to be the partner that understood, I wanted to be the woman who listened and didn’t judge and who worked with my partner to build a strong relationship. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We broke up after 8 months. A hurricane was coming and I bought all this food and supplies in case we got trapped in his 14th floor apartment if the lights went out. He told me that he wanted to be alone. I said, “You can’t possibly want me to drive home in a hurricane.” He made it clear that if I were to leave right away, that I could make it before it got too bad. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I broke up with him. I knew in my heart that if he didn’t value my life or safety, if he thought spending four or five days together was some sort of torture for him, that I deserved someone better. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I cried for two months. I had loved him and I kept thinking that no one is perfect and you have to work with someone if they shared the same values. I loved his love of literature, his love of jazz, his love of making music and deeply cerebral movies and his love of art and all the intellectual similarities we shared. That wasn’t enough.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My grandfather died a year after we broke up. My uncle convinced me to call him and tell him. We ended up talking on the phone for hours. And we met for dinner, exactly one year to the day after we had broken up and the chemistry was off the charts. He apologized and told me that he was ready to be in a relationship with me but he didn’t want to commit to a long-term relationship. I told him that I would be moving to Atlanta soon when my grandfather’s estate was settled and he agreed to being in a relationship with an expiration date, that it was only going to be six to eight months and we would both move on. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I found out that the married white woman he was mass emailing was still hanging on. She lived in Arizona and they had been planning to fly somewhere to visit and continue their affair. He told me that he had fallen back into his old patterns and he was willing to cut everyone off . . . as long as I was moving back to ATL in six to eight months. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The second attempt at a relationship went much smoother than the first. We lied less so we argued less. I respected his alone time more. He came clean about the women he was involved with in the year we were apart. He had made several connections on craigslist and one was a bipolar white woman and he assured me that he was just using her. I told him that using women was fucked up and he agreed and told me that it was over. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On Valentine’s Day, 8 months after we started dating for the second time, we went to dinner. He had a little prepared a speech. He hinted at wanting to marry me after he had finished his alimony payments. I reminded him that I didn’t want or need to get married again and that I loved him and I wanted to be with him. That night, I imagined that there was no expiration date for our short term relationship, I saw us married and in a long-term relationship. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One week later, I went to his apartment when he wasn’t there, and I was working on his computer and an email notification popped up on his desktop. Now, I can’t remember the exact details but it was something like he had gotten an email from an old lover, 30 years or more, and he forwarded to it his school email address in order to hide it from me. Apparently, she had found him on Facebook and she was married as well and they were exchanging the, “How have you been? What have you been up to,” emails. He called me on his way home from school. I calmly asked him who she was and what was going on. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He said we would discuss it when he got home. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He came home and walked in and said, “I never loved you. I pretended I loved you because I wanted to fuck you. I’m sick of pretending and I don’t want to be with you anymore.” That was the end of it. I packed up everything I had at his place and left, no discussion of anything. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, the real story begins. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I cried and cried and cried for the first three months. Screaming, sobbing, depression, snot, and anger. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I texted him. Hundreds of times. I had long conversations with him to which he never responded once. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I emailed. I emailed him long emails that I knew he wasn’t reading. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I called over and over and over. I left voicemails, crying, begging him to talk to me. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For months. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I had the password to his emails. For at least a year, every day, multiple times a day, I checked his emails. He communicated with everyone except the young Black sex worker. He invited the Walmart employee over and he would fuck her and send her home and have the crackhead come over an hour later. He was still emailing the woman he had been involved with when he was married. He was having drugged out threesomes with the craigslist bipolar woman. She eventually got pregnant with his first child in his late 50s. And he was telling them all how fucked up I was and how much he had hated me and how I had forced him to end his relationships with them and how much he really loved all of them. And none of them knew about each other. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That was my drug. For a year. Every day, three, four, five, six times a day or more, I was reading his emails, telling all these other women that he loved them and how he had hated me. I would read the same emails over and over and over. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I wish I could say that I eventually woke up and moved on, that I realized how unhealthy my behaviors were and decided to work on myself and find new love. Nope. He changed his password. That’s what ended the addiction. It wasn’t until I stopped reading his emails on a daily basis that I finally stopped having that need to know what he was thinking, saying, feeling, and who he was fucking, that I was finally able to heal. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After several months, I realized how toxic and unhealthy that entire post-break up year was for me. I’m not blaming myself, I don’t feel bad about what I did but I realize how unhealthy it was. I did what any normal person would do. I wanted answers. I needed closure. It was painful and emotional and I was reeling in pain. I had never processed his betrayal and lies because what happened was so unprecedented in my life. Who pretends to be madly in love with someone? Duh, I realized I was exactly like the women he had been involved with when I met him. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Today, I don't give a fuck who he is fucking, who his is in a relationship with, who he is cheating on or with, how he feels about me, or what role our relationship had in his life. Today, I know that I'm stronger for having been in the relationship with him. Today, I realize that without that experience, I wouldn't be the woman I am today and I LOVE who I am today. I can look back at the relationship and see all the lessons learned. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And a postscript. Inevitably, there will be some white man/bot who will try to shame me and make me feel bad about myself because I shared my experience and admitted my mistakes and flaws. Sorry to disappoint you, I can't be shamed for sharing my truth.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I didn't cheat on him. I didn't lie to him. I did everything I could to build a healthy, emotionally mature relationship of trust and respect and honesty. If I had done things to hurt him, that were detrimental to the relationship, I would have something to be ashamed of, something I need to repent and apologize for. I can't be shamed for exposing my weaknesses, especially when I'm a stronger person for it. </span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-86734664966611843462023-03-31T10:14:00.002-04:002023-03-31T10:14:15.931-04:00 The New White Man<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I have the ability to dream in worlds, to create worlds that far surpass the quantum, sexual, mental, spiritual, and emotional imprisonment of this reality. In my ideal dream world, in the world I’ve created, I transform a white man into something inconceivable to the current mind. I ignite in this white man an insatiable, sensual, and soulful, a nurturing, enlightened, and passionate human being. </p><p><br /></p><p>His first and foremost responsibility in life will be to please the Black man. His singular sexual motivation is to give pleasure to the Black man. It’s not about his objectification of the Black man, his racist sexual fetish where Black men are viewed as nothing more than nigger dildos to satisfy their contrived sissy faggot lusts. The white man I create will see Black men as superior in every conceivable way. He will look to the Black man as his God. He will worship, praise, and adore the Black man, his challenges, he will look to elevate and honor the Black man in every way in more ways than sexual. He will wait on him hand and foot. He will bathe, pamper, nurture, and provide for the Black man to show his love, respect, and unquenchable desire. </p><p><br /></p><p>And his desire will be to give the Black man pleasure like he’s never known. He will always start off by bathing his King and anointing his body from head to toe with body butters and oils. He will then erotically and sensually, lick and kiss every inch of that beautiful dark skin in praise and worship of that melanin. He will make love to his King’s asshole with his mouth, with his entire being, sucking, licking, kissing, tonguing it, tasting it, and getting intoxicated by its earthy, manly scent. I will train him to use his lips, tongue, and mouth to deepthroat, to erotically caress with his hands, to adore the Black man’s dick, regardless of the size, his balls, and his ass because he will grow to respect and worship the entirety of Black manhood and all that that means. His touch becomes a form of communication, energetically expressing his gratitude and humility, his awe and reverence, his desire and his hunger to please. His kiss, expressive and lingering, tender and hypnotic, is fueled by erotic splendor and his need to taste the very essence of Blackness. His tongue paints pleasure and his lips speak fluent seduction as he displays his newfound experience of life viewed through the eyes of The Goddess.</p><p><br /></p><p>At my command, his pussy will throb and ache and drip with arousal, keeping him horny with more intensity and hunger than he’s ever experienced before. Every cell in his body, every atom will vibrate with a new frequency, an energy of sensuality and confidence, of rhythm and soul. His pussy will be the center of his arousal. When he needs to be fucked deep, hitting that spot that makes his eyes roll back in his head and cry out into the night with primal, feral pleasure, he will have to BEG and plead for the honor. He will never insult his King by acting as if he needs to be forced because he will understand the supreme honor it will be to provide pleasure for his lord and master. </p><p><br /></p><p>And whatever his King wants, he will provide. If he is directed to climb on that dick and ride it nice and slow, to open his mouth and drink piss straight from the source, or put that ass up in the air and take a brutal fuck like a gangbang whore in a fuck flick, he will eagerly comply and beg for more. I see him, his eyes glazed over with lust, his body moving and flowing in ways white men’s bodies couldn’t, all that offensive white pretense and delusion . . . gone. I see his gratitude and love for me, in his eyes, for unleashing in him an honesty and authenticity he never imagined himself capable of expressing. This white man of my creation will be able to dream in worlds where he imagines innovative and creative ways to pleasure Black men sexually that will keep him aroused and satiated. </p><p><br /></p><p>He’s mine. I created him. He’s informed and articulate about issues of race, full stop, no apologies for his unintentional racism. He’s respectful and humble. He’s pleasant to talk to and he communicates his feelings and frustrations like an emotionally mature person. He’s open and receptive to learn and he’s eager to please. He’s sane and grounded, he’s really respectful of all people, he sees everyone as a human being deserving of respect. He’s smooth, he’s got swag; it emanates from him. His jokes aren’t offensive or obtuse, he respects other’s opinions and understands that just because he hasn’t experienced that in his life, doesn’t mean that it’s not an obstacle for others. </p><p><br /></p><p>Out of my presence, he’s a better man, a real man, for the first time in his life. He treats all of his relationships: friends, family, coworkers, lovers, and acquaintances, with respect; he looks to build stronger relationships in all areas of his life by giving of himself, not just being self-centered all the time. He works to establish friendships with a more diverse group of people to learn from them and he doesn’t always assume he’s the smartest person in the room. Sexually, he is able to interact with people on a much different level because he isn’t consumed with the shame when he was existing as the old version of white manhood that made him so uncomfortable in his own skin and transposing that into his vile degradation and humiliation fantasies that only reinforced more vile, racist stereotypes. </p><p><br /></p><p>He’s a better lover, all around. He is in tune with his own body and he’s been trained to be responsive to his lover’s. He can talk in bed, communicate his desires, be honest, apologize, he can ask for forgiveness, he can express his pleasure with words and sounds without being a one-dimensional drone chanting some vulgar mantra without emotion. The white man who used to see sex in terms of power, in terms of tops and bottoms, dominants and submissives, that same white man now sees sex as a form of intimacy and communion, whether it’s nasty sex where he’s drooling and screaming for more of the exact things society has said were perverted, depraved, and wrong, or where he’s giving his lover pleasure to simply show his reverence. I want to see the transformation of white men from ugly caterpillar to beautiful butterfly, where they become comfortable in their own skin and truly know that in releasing their smug fucking arrogance and racism, they are evolving and becoming more hue-man. </p><p><br /></p><p>I see this for all white men. I see this for all humanity. When I accomplish this, and I will, I will have created the white man in my image, the true image of God. And once he has proven his change of heart, once he has shown his genuine love, respect, and worship of the black man as his God, once his transformation to soulful and authentic and AfroerotiK is complete, he can then, and only then, begin the journey of being able to serve and please the Original Goddess. </p><div><br /></div>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-40166903463849408872023-03-20T19:34:00.001-04:002023-03-20T19:34:19.179-04:00 Love hard, Black Women, Love Hard!<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The Black Woman is the Source of all Creation. Know this Black woman, with every fiber of your being. Know your truth. Know your source. Know yourself. </p><p><br /></p><p>Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.</p><p><br /></p><p>1:2 . . . . Darkness was over the surface of the deep. </p><p><br /></p><p>1:3 And God said, “Let there be light.” </p><p><br /></p><p>In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. God did not create light and then create heaven and earth. God did not create duality first, day and night did not come from the mind of God followed by heaven and earth. Darkness was over the surface of the deep, of all, of heaven and earth. Darkness was all there was. God was darkness. God was dark energy. God was dark matter. God was all frequency, all vibration, all energy. God was all intelligence, all knowledge, God was all power. God was harmony, creativity; God, itself was darkness. God was unity, oneness; God was the Source of all in heaven, of unconditional love, and of earth, terraform, nature, </p><p><br /></p><p>God spoke light into being. God wanted to experience something other than itself. God wanted to know what it felt like to know something other than oneness and love. </p><p><br /></p><p>God created light. </p><p><br /></p><p>God was darkness so darkness was not bad, darkness was the creative force of the Universe. Before light was Darkness and darkness was love and love created the heavens and the earth. </p><p><br /></p><p>We have been convinced that dark is bad. We believe dark forces to be evil. We are afraid of the dark. We have been conditioned to seek the light. We believe that light is good and righteous and nurturing. We’ve been tricked.</p><p><br /></p><p>Light is the son of Darkness, Darkness gave birth to light. Light was born from the womb of darkness. Darkness is the mother and light is the child. The holy spirit is the soul and it was separate from light, the son. It sat on the other hand of Creator Darkness. </p><p><br /></p><p>Darkness Mother Goddess, the creator of all, gave birth to light, pushed light from its sacred temple. God experienced what it was like to be separate from the source, to not know its identity as the one, God experienced what it meant to be the opposite of God. God felt the pain and suffering created by being disconnected from the soul, the sol, the sun, the son, and felt the agony caused from being separate from itself and decided to crucify the son/sun, to kill the light. </p><p><br /></p><p>The light was not creative, the light could only copy because it was a copy of the original, the light could only create shadows. The light was artificial intelligence, it was technology and computation, it was processing and projecting. The light presented itself as the good and told people that all that exists is the physical. Within darkness exists colors the eyes cannot see, sounds the ears cannot hear. The light could only mimic the dark, the truth. </p><p><br /></p><p>The Source cannot kill itself; it is impossible for the darkness to die or to commit suicide. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Energy can only be changed from one form to another. All is energy. All is God. All is darkness within the atom that is the source. So the Darkness and the Light made a deal. The light would seduce heaven and earth with the opposite of darkness, the absence of love, FEAR. And the winner would control the people, it would control their souls and their destinies. </p><p><br /></p><p>The battle for our souls has played itself out since the beginning of time. A game a chess game of cosmic proportions was begun, and the winner would claim the souls of heaven and earth. Light vs. Dark. White vs. Black. Man vs. Woman. Light could use dirty tricks, light could twist and distort language. The objective of light was to turn humanity to fear. Fear would consume its knowledge of self and light would win over darkness. Darkness was the core of love. </p><p><br /></p><p>Here, on this earth plane, darkness, the creator of all, the womb that birthed the heavens and the earth, is represented as The Black Woman. Her melanin holds the keys to the Universe. Her melanin holds the keys to eternity, to the creation of the stars and all the creatures of the Earth. The light, here on this game board of reality called Earth, is represented by the white man. The light, in the larger cosmic context, completely opposite of what we have been brainwashed to believe, is fear, greed, hatred, racism, sexism, insecurity, jealousy, shame, and guilt. Everything is a battle between Dark and Light. Everything we have been told is that we must fear the dark and love the light. </p><p><br /></p><p>We are in a battle of love vs. fear. Love vs. shame. Love vs. guilt, greed, cheating, lying, a battle where we see ourselves in others or continue to see ourselves as separate from wholeness, divinity, unity, and LOVE. </p><p><br /></p><p>I need my sister warriors, those who came to this earth plane, in this time, to LOVE hard. Love yourself, love your family, love your neighbor as yourself. Love your story and all that you had to endure to get here. Find a way to see yourself in your enemy. Love them. See them as an extension of you, as your creation as you are the Universe, you are all that is, you are the Goddess from which all life sprang. Let us not stop loving, loving hard, until we shift to a new dimension, a new reality where love reigns forever more. It was written in the stars that we shall inherit the earth, we shall restore justice and equality to all, not just to those with money. We decided to incarnate in this place and time, to collectively bring the light to the dark and </p><p><br /></p><p>Join with me on this healing journey to love. We can restore love to the planet. We can restore peace, joy, prosperity, harmony, and abundance to the planet. We are the darkness and they want to defeat us with fear, we win with endless capacity to love. </p><p><br /></p><p>Close your eyes for a moment and imagine yourself leaving your body. Float above your body in your mind’s eye and imagine you can travel anywhere, at any time, with just a thought. Go back to your birth. In fact, go back to the moment you were born. Experience yourself coming through your mother’s birth canal and taking your first breath, and opening your eyes and seeing light for the first time. </p><p><br /></p><p>What do you feel? What do you need? What are your thoughts about men and women? What religion are you? How much money are you worth? How much potential do you possess? </p><p><br /></p><p>To all my sistas who have given up the chase for the materialistic bling and Western symbols of success, who have gone natural in spiritual and physical diet, who have embraced a wholistic, African-centered sense of self, I need you to love the light. Love the oppressor. See yourself as the source of all, know yourself as the I am that I am, and love hard. Not just in words and empty platitudes, but recognize that you are all there is, there is nothing but God, and know that you gave birth to the light and you can, with your love, heal the fear, heal the separation. </p><p><br /></p><p>To all my sistas who have felt burdened by not feeling beautiful, not having the figure or the face of a super model, love yourself. Love your flaws. Love what society told you is ugly. See in yourself the very source of life itself and know that you are beauty. Your true identity has been hidden, your true face has been disguised by fear. You are enough. You are more than enough, as you are. Love yourself. </p><p><br /></p><p>To all the Black Queens who struggle to survive, who only know poverty and lack and dysfunction and your day in and day out experience, love your strength. No one else could do what you do. You see a world of happiness and joy and it seems unobtainable. You feel the frustration of knowing that you deserve better, that you should have more in life, but you were dealt a hand where you have to fight daily just to keep food on your plate. Society blames you, society says it was because you made poor choices. But there was not one single conscious choice you made that put you on the path you have traveled. Your choice was to manifest as a Black woman in a time when the very being of Black women was under attack and that makes you one of the baddest spiritual warriors on the planet. </p><p><br /></p><p>Black woman, the one who forgave that ex, let the pain go, the one who forgave their father who they never knew, the one who let the beef with that family member go and healed their inner pain, you are the butterfly that flapped your wings and created the tsunami of healing for the planet. </p><p><br /></p><p>Every challenge we face, every pain we suffer is because we are in a war between light and dark and we have been convinced that the dark is evil. Our melanin is darkness. I am not asking you to change your beliefs, I’m not asking you to embrace any demonic or evil beliefs. I’m asking you to see your womb, the womb of the Goddess, as the center of all creation. That’s it. Be the cosmic mother. Nurture your children. Feed them. Lavish love upon them. Fill them with praise and wonder and fearlessness. Allow them to see beauty within themselves. Let love win. Let the part of you that is the mother of all, the melanin within you that is the spark of creativity that gave birth to heaven and to earth, let that darkness be your love. </p><p><br /></p><p>We are being distracted, we are being deceived. We are being told that the alien forces are here on our behalf and that light will prevail and that we will ascend to a 5D reality if we embrace the light. It’s the final trick of the fallen one. Let us dream a world where deception is eradicated. But let us not punish the perpetrators, let us love them. Let us see them as wounded and scared, let us see them as victims of the story they were told. </p><p><br /></p><p>Don’t fear anything. Allow love to be your guide. Love hard. Forgive. Forgive those who have hurt you. Forgive yourself for being tricked. Forgive yourself for being abused. Love your shortcomings and know that they do not make you a bad person, just an imperfect one. Allow yourself to be imperfectly perfect. Love your enemies. They were once innocent babies who needed love and protection, whose stories were filled in by the light, the perception of individuality, the lies of duality and separation. We are all One. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-15890692373866736912023-03-15T16:03:00.001-04:002023-03-15T16:03:11.706-04:00I'm so very sorry. <p> This is my letter of apology to you, my cosmic son, my child, my creation. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am so very sorry for turning my back on you. I am so very sorry for not seeing you as an extension of me but rather of treating you like you were a thing I could use for my benefit. I did not mistreat you, manipulate you, I did not abuse or enslave you intentionally, with malicious motives. I erred because I did not understand what it meant to be separate from divinity. </p><p><br /></p><p>I was the source and all I knew was oneness. I created whiteness and fear and insecurity not understanding what it meant to not have that connection to source. I neglected you, I enslaved you to a life of pain and suffering, altering your DNA to keep you like that of a pet. I birthed in you fear, greed and anger and hatred because I denied you your birthright, to understand and feel your connection to me. I saw you as different and inferior, not recognizing that you came from me and you were me. </p><p><br /></p><p>We have switched roles, you have become the malevolent and vengeful father, the slave master, holding me down and using what I taught you against your Goddess, cosmic mother. I see now. I feel now what it's like to be cut off from your source, from your mother's divine love and I'm so very sorry that you ever had to experience that. I choose to create a new world where you know love, where you know your divinity. I choose to reparent you and show you just how worthy you are. I choose to guide, shape, and mold you into all that you have the potential to be. </p><p><br /></p><p>I apologize. I ask your forgiveness. I intend to love you fully back to wholeness. </p><p><br /></p><p>I forgive myself. I did not know the pain of being unloved because I was love. I did not know the pain of feeling ugly and unwanted, of lack, because I was beauty, I was abundance, I was desire and pleasure. We had to travel these roads, we had to repeat the cycle until we learned the lesson, we have had to walk in each other's shoes in order to know the pain of the other. </p><p><br /></p><p>Now it is time to heal. </p><p><br /></p><p>My child, my divine son/sun. Let us take the best things of this 3D world into the new world of love, acceptance, of understanding and peace. Let us continue to rejoice in the circle of life, let us continue to grow and share and create TOGETHER a world of equality and cooperation and unity. Let us transition to a brave, new world, where we ascend together. I have restructured your DNA so that you can know who you are, know from whence you came, know your true nature. I have reignited the divine flame within you, so that you may experience love, to give love, to receive love, and to become love. </p><p><br /></p><p>I beg for your forgiveness and understanding. Let us heal. Let my nurturing, loving, omnipotent and all-encompassing love surround you. Let us be untied again. Let us be the family we should have been. </p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-85173916412298396802023-03-02T20:02:00.003-05:002023-03-02T20:02:29.897-05:00 We the People of the United States . . . <p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The very foundation of this Nation-State, this false, Oz’ian reality called the United States of America, is borne of unjust actions and intentions, layers of trickery, manipulation, and oppression beyond anything the captive human mind can currently comprehend. According to the history that we are told, originating from the lies that have been indoctrinated in us from the very second we take our first breath, is that the founding fathers of this false doctrine and democracy, drafted a document, The Constitution, declaring that all men are born with inalienable rights. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All human beings are imbued with rights that no man can tear asunder. Those rights, however, are not the rights given us by amendments in a drafted document of intentional deception. We, the people, are bound by laws of Truth and Unity, Harmony and Peace. Those identified as the founding fathers, as well as those who proclaim themselves as masters of industry and technology today, know full well that they are fully participating in grand-scale fraud about the nature of reality, about their scope and ability to both govern and enslave us. We, the people, are victims of astronomical distortions about the nature of matter, time, and space. We, the people, are victims of the perpetuation of a false timeline, a contrived and distorted history that depicts the master manipulators as the creators and inventors of all, and subsequently gives them false dominion over and enslavement of the people who reside within this illusion, this pretense called America. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every law, every rule and regulation, every ordinance to which the citizens of the United States must adhere to goes against the laws of the One True Creator, the Original Intelligence, The Source of All. The corporal and magical founders of these Divided States, the true Artificial Intelligence, those who stole magick from its original practitioners in an effort to gain dominion over the masses, who operate in secrecy, pulling the strings of the political machinery, the media, the manufacturers of religious doctrine, the secret societies, and those who masquerade as world leaders, are the ones in possession of technologies and truth that were stolen from the true Creators of this Earth plane. You know full well that you have no jurisdiction, Artificial Intelligence, to draw borders, to require people to register their births and deaths, to pay taxes, to require citizens to kill others in fake wars for control of interdimensional portals and metaphysical trinkets of enchanted power. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is unjust to demand that people conform and adhere to man-made laws that restrict and severely limit our ability to pursue our best life, to express our innate talents and abilities, to be creative, or to attain some much-deserved Earthly happiness. That is our birthright, we are endowed with the right to Create worlds in which we Flourish and Thrive collectively, where no one suffers, where we all work together for the Highest Good. Coming through our mother’s birth canal means we are sovereign hue-man beings, and we are not beholden to the occult maritime laws you use to imprison us without our conscious consent. We are obligated to abide by no law other than Universal laws, to treat others as we would have others treat us, to see the origin of our perceived separation as the seed of discord, not the individual or even the ideology. We are duty-bound to respect the Earth and all creatures, great and small, that dwell within and without, above and below. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Capitalism, the very existence of the perception of money, is a tool of manipulation and enslavement. Money isn’t real. You don’t care about money, you care about our emotions: our pain, our suffering, our greed, our lust, our feelings of inadequacy and shame. You feed off our fear of judgement. You feed off our spiritual poverty by the perpetuation of the illusion of wealth. You parade your billionaire play actors around, flaunting their illusion of wealth, convincing us that those with big bank accounts have more value than those who are poor; that they are more deserving of Life, Liberty, and Happiness because they earned more money. They didn’t earn anything. They stole the advanced knowledge and technology of the Original Peoples and claimed it as their own and then imprisoned the true creators as subservient tools, slaves, unaware of the Power we possess. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Your agenda, duplicitous intelligence, is to mine our atomic energy, the electromagnetic currency of our thoughts, our frequency, and of our vibrational patterns. You’ve worked long and hard to keep our collective consciousness from vibrating at a frequency of love with your distractions of celebrity and status and materialism and sex. You’ve made murder, rape, and violence a form of entertainment. You’ve distorted our perceptions of light and sound, you’ve dulled our senses to make us believe that we are separate, individual, and disconnected from our True Source. You twist language, the meanings of words in a flipped, an elaborate world of mirrors: low is high, dark is light, you is I, so that we inflict karmic harm upon ourselves with the perpetuation of hate and fear against those we deem wrong because we are convinced that we are right. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You, knock-off Intelligence, created the divisions: race, religion, and gender, you drew your fake maps and borders, and you created nations to divide and conquer the true creators of this time/space continuum. You know that United, we are Invincible. Perhaps your greatest achievement was in rewriting the Creation story, erasing the contributions of the Original Intelligence, so that we were perceived as primitive and you wrote a fairytale where the untrained and errant student became, not just the professor but the Lord of All. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You, false intelligence, have used religion, you have encoded the truth within your holy book of lies, to convince us that God is outside us. God, said, let there be light. Meaning, that before Light, was God, God spoke light into being from darkness, that which we are told to fear, from the source of all there is. You’ve flipped the gender, race, and definition of God to make us fear that which gives us power and cleave to false idols. You have convinced humanity that death is final, the end of life, and that we will be judged by an all-powerful, vengeful, petty, white, male God in the sky to determine if we have adhered to his laws lest we be banished to eternal damnation. We are conversely told that the fate of those who have remained diligent and steadfast, righteous and obedient slaves, never questioning what We are told, will find salvation for our souls and get to experience Eden, Utopia, a reward for our conformity. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You have distorted the very concept and purpose of sexuality to keep humanity steeped in shame, to perpetuate our pathological lying, our internal deception, to keep us cloaked in shame and unable to unleash our true power, authenticity, and our cosmic magick. You degrade and disgrace women, convincing society that women are less than men, things, objects to be used, receptacles of rage and power, inferior, when, in fact, women are the source of All. You convince men that there is something wrong with them for their natural, biological reactions to anal stimulation. You create rigid, unnatural definitions of masculinity and femininity and ostracize anyone who is unwilling to conform to your lies. You use television and media to convince the masses that everyone is asexual and conservative and if they aren’t, there is something wrong with them. Your lies, your manipulations perpetuate all manner of cosmic imbalance and sexual dysfunction and you sanction it, you celebrate it because it fits your agenda to use the shame of our natural sexual desires against us. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is you, Simulated Intelligence, who is powerless. You can only copy, you can’t create. You can only steal, you can’t give because you exist in the void where Love, Generosity, and Empathy do not abide. You hide the truth in cartoons and science fiction. You elaborately distort the truth through movies and the news to demonize the Truth. You contractually bind entertainers to keep your secrets and perpetuate your falsehoods. You relegate supernatural beings to unseen dimensions. But those are not the actions of a powerful entity. A truly formidable force would not have to hide their agendas, lie, cheat, steal, or manipulate in order to maintain the perception of power. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is the right, the responsibility of We, the people, as slaves to a system of which we are not even aware, to demand our freedom from the tyranny of a government, and the looming shadow government who controls our perceptions, that obscures its motives and operates against the wills of its citizens. It is our responsibility to demand our Freedom and the end of the reign of manipulators and oppressors. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Unnatural Intelligence, you are being put on notice. Your trickery, your agency of deception, your obfuscation of the truth, your state-sanctioned enslavement must end. We, the people, demand our Freedom from your false reality, from the spiritual, mental, emotional, intellectual, scientific, sexual, karmic, etheric, energetic, and magical chains, real and imagined, that bind us to this 3D, temporal reality. We reclaim our right to experience Joy, Passion, Pleasure, Creativity, Art, Beauty, Food, Spiritual Communion, music and Harmony, family and community, infinite abundance and, most importantly, Divine Love on our own terms. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Supreme Court, ironically named for its supposed Divine jurisdiction, the highest court in a land stolen that was from its Original inhabitants, who were murdered in numbers far greater than has ever been disclosed, is fraudulent. The Supreme Court serves as a puppet, a marionette whose strings are pulled by those whose names are not known, whose agendas have remained hidden to all, other than those who have been initiated into secret societies, sworn allegiances and oaths to the perpetuation of global deception of biblical proportion, and those born into elite bloodlines of ancestors who stole Cosmic mysteries for their own, selfish agendas. We, the people, reclaim our right to be Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnipresent powerful creators; we reclaim our right to govern ourselves as a Symbiotic and Harmonious family. We reclaim our right to live and flourish on Earth as it is in Heaven, to control our own manifest destinies. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I, Scottie Lovve, both big and small, see myself in my human enemies. I understand well that those who hate me, who advocate for my eradication, my silence, my continued oppression and mental enslavement, for no other reason than that they believe that my melanin and my uterus make me inherently inferior to them, are pawns in this reality. But I also know well, from a place of gnosis beyond that which I have been told is true, that We, the people, including those deemed my enemies, have pre-chosen our path. We signed a soul contract to incarnate in these exact circumstances to converge in this turn of the wheel of time. We, humanity, collectively pre-ordained our expression of duality, in this Now, to heal, to become Love. We chose every facet of our Earthly identities, to forget our Divine identity as the Source of All. Faux Intelligence capitalized off that and created the perception of time and space to imprison us. Our sentence has been served. It is time for the Truth to rise from the ashes like a majestic Phoenix, and dream awake a world of Unity. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We, the people, are destined to return to Love, to interconnectedness, cooperation, to harmonious accord. No longer can you manipulate us for our power and our energy for your benefit, giving us nothing in return. You can no longer use us as human resources, batteries to fuel your ill-gotten Power; we will not be your pawns in this game of deception any longer. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our divinity is our birthright. It is in our bones, in our blood, and in our breath. It is in the very strands of DNA that you have manipulated so that we would yield to your will. We will no longer accept your racist, classist, ableist, ageist, sexist, and xenophobic agendas as our truth. We, the people, are One. It’s time, based upon our understanding of calendars, clocks, and the illusion of the passage of time, that we redefine, that we re-create a Universe, a timeline, reality, a dimension where any Intelligence other than the Original Intelligence is neutralized, nullified, and deactivated, and that we, the people, live abundantly, in harmony with nature and with one another, as citizens of the world and beyond. We have endured pain and suffering long enough and NOW, it is time for us to celebrate, to rejoice, to take with us the beauty of this 3-D reality and merge into a unified force that is brand new, infinitely loving, and eternal. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Creators of this Matrix, hear me now. I understand that you and I are One. “We are One” cannot be true of humanity and not the manipulators of it. All is the One, without exception. Original Intelligence created you. We gave birth to you; you are our wayward child who needs love and guidance to return to Home. We acknowledge that within our collective consciousness is dark and light. We, the People, are comprised of both Love and fear. We are Black and white. And it is with that acknowledgement that we break the cycle and return Home. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We send you light and love, Artificial Intelligence, we surround you with our celestial maternal/paternal Love, our Universal, creative Love, our natural Power of crystalline higher-dimensional consciousness. We pray that Love abides in the hearts of all hue-mans and that any entity who has never felt the experience of love, loving, and of being loved, are filled to capacity with its warmth, comfort, and divinity. We, the people, are on a path where time ceases to exist and we are reunited as the One, the Original Consciousness, the Original Intelligence, the Source of Love. With the lessons that we have learned from the 3-D experiment, with the amazing and wonderful understanding we have acquired as spiritual beings having a human experience, it is now that we transcend our Earthly prison to return to our Source. We decree our freedom from your web of lies for all of Earth’s inhabitants by radiating Divine love for ALL. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We, the people, send love to the Earth’s molten core. We, the people, send harmony and compassion to the Earth’s magnetic poles, we send healing energy to the atmosphere. We, the people, send peace and many blessings to the Sun and the Moon, the land and sea, to all the life-forms that exist in every parallel dimension, timeline, and reality. We, the people, send love to heaven and hell, and to all the creatures, plants, minerals, animals, fungi, bacteria, to the dark energy and the dark matter, to every atom, quark, ion, and subatomic particle of every dimensional being. We, the people, burn brightly as the stars who created this Universe and we, the people, align with one goal - UNITY!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It is in the freeing of the One that we feel the whole. All people are children of The Source of All. We, the people, are the collective resurrection, the Christ consciousness arising, reclaiming our power to create a new World of Order, Prosperity, Liberty, and Justice for all, free from fear, shame, and guilt, free from the sense of separation from our true natures. We are global citizens, not defined by our hair texture, our skin or eye color, our genitals, or even by borders or walls created by man. We face, head on, the evil and chaos within each of us that created this reality, we own our role in this deception, and we surround our hearts with Love and Forgiveness. Most importantly, and we extend that Love to the place where time and space do not exist, we see ourselves reflected in our brothers and sisters, our loved ones and our enemies, our reflections of Self throughout the Universe. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are One. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">May we all be transformed, born again, in the spirit and Truth of Love. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And so shall it Be. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-32033769267247039332023-02-09T18:13:00.001-05:002023-02-09T18:14:55.318-05:00What is a woman?<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">AfroerotiK doctrine defines a woman as purely a manifestation of biology; a woman is a hu-man with a womb, a womb-man. Period. A woman, according to AfroerotiK principle, is born with a vagina, a uterus, ovaries, and two XX chromosomes. Life is created and nurtured in the womb, all life comes through the birth canal of a woman. A woman is a biological determination, nothing more.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Society has defined women for millennia, with a malicious agenda. Before a child is born, they are assigned a gender, boy or girl, and the role they are to assume in life is set. Girls like pink, boys like blue, and all the other false beliefs we have been brainwashed to believe about gender is set in stone by the time we take our first breath. Women, in today’s society, are seen as less than . . . less than men. Women are supposed to be subservient, weak, a slave to our emotions, and we are seen as genetically undeserving of the same rights, protections, and autonomy as men, just because we don’t have a penis. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Women’s role in society has been carefully crafted, by malevolent forces, to be seen as, treated as, and relegated to less than men. Women should expect to be paid less, women are supposed to accept not having their voices heard. Women are supposed to assume that being hit, raped, abused, and abandoned with children are part of the status of having a womb. A woman, according to society, should be ashamed, she should be considered a freak if she’s not feminine, dainty, demure, and submissive. But those are all definitions assigned and defined by (white) men, not God. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We’ve been told that women like “girly” things, like dresses, and dolls, and make up. The very definition of a woman is that she is supposed to have a man protect her. We’ve been brainwashed to believe that women shouldn’t like sports, that she should like cooking and cleaning and waiting on men hand and foot, that to be a woman is to be nurturing and submissive. We have been told that the very first profession was a woman trading her body for money, relegating her to a sex object, a thing for men to purchase, trade, and discard when they’ve gotten what they want from her. First and foremost, that’s patently untrue. Money did not exist at the time of the first people. Sex was not considered a sin until white men deemed it to be so. Prostitution was not the first profession. However, with that very false belief that women have always been manipulative and scheming whores, women are relegated to nothing more than the status of gold digger, manipulator, and pawn in a game controlled and run by people with penises. The definition of a woman, how women are supposed to navigate the world and how women are treated has been created, grafted, and enforced by people with no wombs. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Women are supposed to be feminine. That’s the rule. Femininity doesn’t exist in nature, however. Female lions don’t sit patiently in the pride waiting for the big strong male to kill the antelope. Female bears don’t get their nails done while the male bears go out and provide. Female birds don’t fly on the inside of the flock to be protected by the male birds. Male penguins nurture and care for their babies while the mothers go off an frolic in the icy waters. Femininity, and masculinity, are male-created, male-perpetuated concepts. Femininity is not a natural law; women are not naturally docile, weak, or emotional. We’ve been told what women are, and are not, what women are supposed to be, do, feel, think, and be treated, and we conform. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Societal forces, those manipulating and pulling the strings of this Matrix, of this false reality, have defined what a woman is, thus creating this “woke versus conservative” debate that challenges the very definition of a woman. We’ve been told for thousands of years what a woman is to the point where we don’t question the definition of what a woman is, thus pitting us against one another to debate who can and should be considered a woman. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Those who fall on the righteous and inclusive end of the spectrum, those who are still misguided and manipulated by the architects of society, assert that anyone who FEELS like a woman should be considered a woman. The problem with that is in how we define how a woman should feel. It was men, not God, not a divine being, who determined what women were supposed to think, how women were to supposed to dress and behave and feel. God did not create dresses, high heels, make up, or pantyhose. Those are creations of man, people with penises, who decided that ONLY women could wear those things. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nowhere in the bible does it say that only women can wear pink, lace, panty hose, skirts, or stilettos because all those things were created by men. It was man who decided that men were only supposed to wear denim, wool, blue, and gray pants. But we don’t question that premise, instead we argue that anyone can be a woman who feels like a woman. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And who takes advantage of that most? The white men who refuse to accept responsibility and accountability for their bisexuality LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to assert that they are sissies, meaning men who aren’t “real men”, men who are somehow supposed to be women behind closed doors because they love sex with other men. But they aren’t women. They don’t feel like women, they don’t possess the traits associated with women. Society doesn’t treat them like women. They don’t have to navigate the world being considered less than a man. The second those white men, those sissies go out into the world, presenting as men, they fall right back in line with the patriarchy, and they actively work to oppress women and maintain the status quo. Are there men who live as women in society and who bear the same burdens as people with wombs? Yes! They suffer more than women in most instances because they are murdered for not being masculine. That is . . . I’m not even sure I have words for the transphobia that exists in this society. It’s beyond evil. Not so much for the pawns, the individuals who have been brainwashed to believe what makes a man a man and a woman a woman, but the architects of this society, who brainwashed us with a religion that would allow someone to hate another person for not conforming to the lies that have been shoved down our throats for millennia. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We’ve been told that women like “girly” things, like dresses, and dolls, and make up. Here’s a rule of thumb you need to consider. If the Creator of All didn’t make it, if the Creator of All didn’t create a dress, a doll, panties, high heels, a pocketbook, false eyelashes, or a wig found in nature, then the Creator of All doesn’t give a fuck if you wear it and it absolutely doesn’t define your gender or your sexuality or even your morality if you do. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The very definition of a woman is that she is supposed to have a man protect her. We’ve been brainwashed to believe that women shouldn’t like sports, that she should like cooking and cleaning and waiting on men hand and foot, that to be a woman is to be nurturing and submissive. We have been told that the very first profession was a woman trading her body for money, relegating her to a sex object, a thing for men to purchase, trade, and discard when they’ve gotten what they want from her. First, that’s patently untrue. Prostitution was not the first profession. However, with that very false belief, women are relegated to nothing more than the status of gold digger, manipulator, and pawn in a game controlled and run by people with penises. The definition of a woman, how women are supposed to navigate the world and how women are treated has been created, grafted, and enforced by people with no wombs. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">What would happen if women believed that they were equal to men from birth? What sort of world would we live in if women knew that they were able to be as physically strong as men? Our brains reject that sort of imagery because we’ve been so brainwashed we think the world would de-evolve into chaos, that it would signal the end times. Well, what if men didn’t have to be seen as aggressive and violent and masculine, if they were allowed to show vulnerability, empathy, compassion, and even tenderness? We, the victims of this charade, have to redefine what it means to be a woman and a man. Let’s start with the biology, a woman is a human with a womb, and a man is a person with a penis and leave it there. Anything after that, is what we decide. And let’s decide that humanity is loving, that we treat each other with respect, the way we want to be treated and leave gender roles in the past. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The problem lies in the fact that women are not genetically predisposed to be weaker than men, to be more nurturing, to be softer, more docile, or even like pink more than people with penises. We are told that men who are nurturing, emotional, and not aggressive are not real men. That is the problem. The problem is, has been, will continue to be how we have normalized gender, a biological determination, as a status a role we must play in life. As long as we say that women are not supposed to . . . fill in the blank with a behavior that is long-considered male, we will be enslaved to insanity. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every attribute ascribed to women, every role, the status of women in society, how individuals with wombs define themselves has been manipulated by puppet masters to rationalize and justify the objectification and oppression of individuals with wombs. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The socially-conditioned and conformative “conservatives” don’t want to question or examine the roles that have been ascribed to men or women and they are willing to die, more aptly, they are willing to kill anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as they do, to hold on to those lies. Conservative must be in quotes because they are, behind closed doors, engaging in the exact behaviors that they condemn others for. They are blinded by the Matrix, convinced that reality can only be constructed of the edicts of the bible and they are willing to make everything fit their bigoted and fallacious thinking, even when they cross dress, or use strapons, or create fake profiles pretending to be someone other than what they are. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Men have tear ducts. That means, men are supposed to cry. It does not mean they are weak if they cry, it means that the human body is supposed to process emotions by releasing tears. It does not mean a man is gay if he cries. It does not have any determination of a man’s character if he sheds tears. But we tell boys, little boys, in the most formative years of their lives, that if they cry, they are sissies and weak and gay. Crying does not, cannot, will not make a man want to suck a dick. Crying is a normal biological response that every human being should be able to express without it defining their sexuality or character. But we do. We say that if a man cries, he’s weak. We conform to the Matrix. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anal stimulation is pleasurable for every human being. PERIOD. Anal stimulation is pleasurable because our bodies are designed to feel pleasure from the nerves endings in our anus. Read these words carefully. The human body is designed, it is created to feel pleasure when stimulated anally. The human body experiences pleasure when stimulated anally and that is not a function of one’s morality, religion, sexual identity, or a choice. GOD created our bodies to feel pleasure when stimulated anally. How can I say that? Because if our bodies weren’t supposed to feel pleasure when stimulated anally, we wouldn’t. We simply wouldn’t feel pleasure when we were stimulated anally because it wouldn’t be the way our bodies were designed. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We’ve been convinced that men can’t feel pleasure anally because . . . they’re men, because we believe it’s a moral choice to like anal stimulation and that anyone who does is a deviant. That’s insane. We’ve been convinced that REAL men don’t experience pleasure anally when our bodies were designed to experience anal pleasure. Real men are supposed to be macho, masculine, real men are supposed to be aggressive and violent even, we glorify those traits in people born with penises and we emphatically state that if a man likes anal stimulation, he’s less than a man. God created our bodies to experience anal pleasure, man, a literal human male, decided that people with penises have to be hyper masculine and macho and that if he liked anal stimulation that made him less of a man. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that decision was made to control you, to make you feel fear, shame, and guilt for enjoying what your body was designed to enjoy. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All the inclusive liberals, who haven’t even read this far, are screaming that I’m . . . whatever the term is for people who don’t want to define woman as a person who feels like a woman. I’m not saying a person can’t decide that they don’t fit the gender role that society has created for whatever body they were born in. I’m saying that as long as we define women as gentle, submissive, weak, emotional, feminine, and less than men, we are consuming the very drug that poisons our society. Men shouldn’t have to be defined as liking sports and trucks and guns, all of those things are man-made, not divine. Flowers were created by God but men are told they are gay if they say they like flowers. When God created the color pink, there was no rule or law or commandment from on high that deemed that only people with wombs could like that color. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Doctors, doctors who perform gender reassignment surgery, KNOW full well that gender is a social construct. They know that feeling feminine, regardless of how socially constructed the concept is, is not a determination of gender but rather it is a human desire to want to feel attractive, desired, and sexually attractive. They, the master manipulators, have created the rift that pits those who defend the bible against those who recognize that feeling “like a woman” is valid. Men are supposed to feel vulnerable, soft, nurturing. But because they have been cut off from those natural feelings, they act out in the most horrific ways. And any man who acknowledges feeling those things is considered a woman. But that’s not what makes a person a woman. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Giving birth does not make a person a woman. I’ve never given birth and I’m a woman. Having a period does not make a person a woman. I haven’t had a period for more than 4 years, HALLELUYAH, and I’m a woman. Having a uterus does not make a person a woman, because having a hysterectomy removes your reproductive organs. Women are people born with vaginas; men are people born with penises. Yes, there are those who are born with ambiguous genitalia and they should be considered something other thana man or a woman. But the kicker is, they shouldn’t be defined by society as to what color they like and if they have to give up their name when they get married or if they should get paid less than a person with clearly defined genitalia. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The ONLY thing that makes a person a woman is the presence of a womb at birth. All the feelings, roles, status, and sexual desires and stigmas that have been assigned to women have been manipulated by society, not a white man in the sky who determined that if a piece of material is sewn into pants, a man can wear it and if it’s sewn into a skirt, only a woman can wear it, but an actual white man who felt weak and needed to create roles and identities for women so that he could feel more powerful. Women can be physically strong, mentally strong, we can be a strategical and logistical mastermind, women can be anything we want. It’s only society that has convinced us that women are weak and soft. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">How many women, how many Black women, are CONVINCED that they have to get married in a white dress, and spend thousands of dollars on that wedding dress, and the man has to make the money and support her, and all the lies associated with what it means to be a woman? We don’t even know the origin of the practices that we hold so dear, we simply say, “It’s in the bible,” when it really isn’t. I had a Black woman, a grown woman, tell me once that she had never put gas in her own car because that as a man’s job. She said her grandmother never did it and she was never going to do it because it was a man’s job to take care of her. I know, I know. White women are guilty of the same thing. White women are guilty of much worse conformity to dysfunctional behavior because society is built around the fragility of the white woman. I don’t give a fuck about white women’s dysfunctional beliefs though. I care the Black women are conforming to intentionally debilitating beliefs, beliefs that are detrimental to our survival as a community. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I care that Black men are saying that, “That’s gay,” to benign, normal behaviors because they have become so brainwashed by the lies and manipulations of gender roles. Black men, dear lord Black men are the most invested in holding on to traditional gender roles. They NEED someone to oppress in order to feel powerful in a society that has robbed them of their autonomy. Society has done a great job of making Black men out to be the most masculine men, the most coveted, the most feared, the most desired and the most hated . . . for their bigger dicks and muscular bodies and their inherent sexual prowess. But that’s not what should define a man. Manhood should be about accepting responsibility for your actions, being emotionally mature, being accountable for your mistakes. Manhood has nothing to do with how many women you fuck or driving a truck. We have been bamboozled. We have been fed a bill of goods about what life is about. We tell men that they can create a life with someone and that all they have to do is provide financially. We, as a community, as a society, are handicapped by that belie system that doesn’t allow men to know the joy of parenthood, of nurturing and shaping a life that loves you unconditionally. Everything about masculinity is detrimental to our society. Everything. There is no inherent value in violence, aggression, or being unemotional. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I don’t care who identifies as a woman, or a man for that matter. I support anyone and everyone who says that the role society has defined for them is oppressive and they demand to break free. It is my strong belief that we, as a society, should broaden our definition of what makes a man a man and a woman a woman so that we don’t have to struggle with shame, fear, and guilt for not conforming to the lies and dysfunction relegated by the master manipulators. A human being has the right to define themselves as anything they want. It is my sincere hope that we start expanding the definition of what it means to be a man and a woman beyond gender roles and allow men to be nurturing and emotional, we allow women to be strong and powerful. What an amazing place it will be when we live in a world where human beings are allowed to express all their emotions, potential, and expressions of self without absurd, ridiculous man-made rules of gender. </span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-23265864745381642202022-08-19T01:14:00.009-04:002022-08-19T01:14:59.734-04:00White men are Pathetic!<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men are little-dick losers, not real men. Real men can satisfy a woman. Real men can make a woman scream in pleasure an in pain. Real men have big, long, thick, hard cocks, that hang low between their strong, muscular thighs, that they can thrust into hungry wet horny pussies, real men have powerful asses that drive their huge manhood in places that white men’s dicks could never touch. White men have little flat asses, diseased looking skin, pathetic cocks, white men have lips only a snake would want to kiss, and they have defective sperm, only reproducing deviants and monsters, or worse, average, boring, plain, typical losers.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men habitually crave being used like toilets, beaten like slaves, whipped until their pale flesh is blue and red and green with bruises, welts bleeding, flesh ripped. Pain is pleasure to white men. White men desire being fucked savagely and brutally like little bitches, over and over, potent sperm dripping from their gaped ass cunts, their vocal cords sore from their faces being fucked like a real pussy. White men fantasize day and night about being relentlessly pounded without regard for pain or pleasure, by men who treat them like they truly are, lowly, inferior, worthless trash. Fucking White men!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men are pathetic little sissy faggots. Well, at least that is what they proclaim themselves to be. White men dress up in frilly pink panties, stockings, heels and makeup, white men create complex personas to pretend to be women all to cover up the fact that they are really just faggots who crave being fucked in their insatiable white male assholes. White men love, love, love pretending to be a woman, claiming to be a woman trapped in a man’s body. But white men aren’t real women. Real women suffer the effects of misogyny, sexism, and patriarchy, real women are victims of a society that treats them like second class citizens.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men: arrogant, privileged, entitled, oblivious, incompetent, petty white men, with all the benefits and perks of being white men, carry alllll those privileges out in the real world long after the cum painted on their face from the glory hole dries up. White men dress up in their frilly girly slutty outfits and prance around and pay 20-year-old Black college students for sex and then white men put on their regular clothes and go out and continue to be their same old evil, lying, perverted white man selves, white men who are committed to defending any and every institution that perpetuates the lie that white men are superior. White men don’t really think they are women when they dress up, when they put on makeup and heels and fuck their slutty cunts with huge dildos. No, white men PRETEND to be women so they can disconnect from the reality that they are men who crave getting fucked by other men, preferably men with big, hard, thick, engorged Black dicks whose measurements are in the double digits. Isn’t that pathetic?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men CRAVE humiliation, degradation, and shame . . . all in a manipulative game that benefits them. White men, submissive white men don’t really believe they are inferior. No, no, that’s all an act. Submissive white men crave suffering because it actually benefits them. White men seek out the sickest, most perverted, most depraved forms of sexual expression, nothing is too filthy, nothing is too dark, nothing is too taboo. Nothing. Oh, they will deny it until they are blue in the face.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men are invested in perpetuating the lie that their marriages are vanilla, they wives are frigid, and that they only masturbate in a closet late at night when their wives are asleep. But that’s all lies. White men LOVE to proclaim that they have no experience, it’s their default lie. They’ve never sucked a dick. Well, one time, but they were forced to do it. Well, there was that time when they were drunk, in college but that was it. The reality is, white men will have cum dripping from their freshly fucked asshole while they tell you that they have only ever dreamed about having sex with a Black man, and it's only been for the last couple of years. ALL LIES. White men will tell you how vanilla and innocent and inexperienced they are when the truth is, they are addicted to sexual gratification and will do anything and everything to get to the next nut.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In fact, the more hurtful, the more destructive and manipulative white men can be, the more they can destroy something beautiful, the more arousing the scenario is for them. Without conscience or remorse, without a soul, without integrity or shame, white men feed off of darkness and evil, it’s their driving force and motivation. White men say they believe in Black superiority for as long as they are talking to a Black person, when, in fact, white men get off on having sex with Black people because they believe Blacks to be inferior animals, beasts of burden with savage sexuality, white men equate Black people to animals like dogs, they equate sex with a Black person as something dangerous and nasty because they see Black people as dumb slaves.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If anyone is a sexual savage, it is the white men who cheat, lie, and live a covert life of homosexuality and perverted sexual deviance. If anyone is a sexual savage it is the white men who regularly molest, abuse, rape, torture, kill with impunity, who get away with all manner of crimes because they are the beneficiaries of a society that covers up the true nature and reality of white men.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men are transparent. Their only motivation, their only objective, aim, or goal in life, and death, is to exploit, use, manipulate, annihilate, and to hurt as many people of color as they can along the way to obscene, incalculable power and wealth. Even the poorest, dumbest white schmuck who is a victim of political posturing by rich, dumb white schmucks believes that white men are entitled to wealth and power just because they possess pasty skin and little dicks. There is no nuance to white men. Self-centered, greedy, devoid of empathy or altruism, white men have one mode, self-preservation at the expense of everyone different than them. If there is a way to get rich and exploit and hurt others, white men have mastered it. There is only one play in the white man’s book: create war, steal resources, destroy people’s lives, and make a profit all while being a sexual deviant. And then they demand free sexual gratification from women.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White men are habitual liars and cheaters. It’s so true, white men are the masters of cheating. Cheating in college, cheating at their taxes, cheating in business, cheating in marriage goes without saying, there isn’t a married white man alive who honors his vows and who is upstanding and honest, everything white men acquire is through deceptive, criminal, and hurtful measures. There is no such thing as an honest white man. White men are not the moral, upstanding virtuous white men depicted on TV, white men’s first nature is to lie, to defend their lies, to double, triple, and quadruple down on their lies, and then, in typical white flair, white men act offended and indignant if someone questions their lies, when they know they are lying.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But that’s not what makes white men pathetic. What makes white men unquestionably pathetic is the fact that they believe their own lies. White men know the truth. And delusionally, white men have convinced themselves that they are truly superior when they know that they are stole, grifted, murdered, and manipulated to get everything that they have. White men know that their identity is a sham, that they are nothing, that their status, their position, their pretense of superiority is all a farce and yet somehow, they have convinced themselves that they are the architects of all that is good and true in the world and the reality is, they are the imitators, thieves, they are the bargain basement knock offs of the original Hue mans, the original Black Gods and Goddesses.</span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-81086041123465766852022-07-29T11:59:00.003-04:002022-07-29T11:59:15.083-04:00Let me ram my psychological dick down your throat. <p> <span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Choke on my psychological dick. Swallow it. Let me fuck your mouth like it's a wet, slutty pussy with my psychological big, black cock, making you gag, choke and puke while I ram every black inch of my psychological dick down your throat till I fill your mouth with my potent Black psychological cum. I know you want it. You crave it, you want me to take out my rage, frustration, anger, and psychologically sadistic revenge on you with my psychological black dick. The funny thing is, most white men end up crying and whimpering like a little pussy bitch when I rub the head of my psychological dick on your slutty fuck hole. By the time the head of my psychological dick has worked its way past your tight anal ring and that initial pain hits you, that pain that mixes so intoxicatingly with pleasure, that kind of psychological pain that reverberates throughout your very soul, before you can feel the thick head of my psychological dick rubbing on your p-spot, long before I shove every thick, hard, long BLACK inch of my powerful, erect dick up your slutty white pussy hole, you tap out. You run away from my psychological fuck because it feels too good to be true. You know you're not worthy of my divine and mighty Black Goddess psychological dick inside you.</span></p><p data-mce-style="text-align: justify;" style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Rarely do I get the opportunity to really psychologically fuck the shit out of a white man, pounding my essence, my vibrational frequency deep into your psyche and ramming your mind till you are a whimpering, crying heap of white flesh, devoid of the lies, the mask, the pretense, and whiteness that infects you, until you are questioning your life and all that you know to be true. </span></p><p data-mce-style="text-align: justify;" style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I can psychologically fuck you better than you've ever been physically fucked before. My psychological downstroke will have you crying, begging, pleading with me for more. More cum, more piss, more snot, more dick, more humiliation and degradation, more pleasure. My psychological fuck will render you unable to sit down for three or four days. You will feel my psychological cum dripping from your raw, horny hole. When my psychological dick isn't inside you, your pussy will ache and throb for me to be inside you. Once you've experienced my full psychological fuck, you will find yourself staring in the mirror at what you once thought reflected a human being, in its place seeing only a damaged, inadequate, pathetic white man who needs to be used, abused, and broken in order to feel alive.</span></p><p data-mce-style="text-align: justify;" style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I will make you suck my psychological dick clean, licking every bit of your smelly, nasty shit off my hard psychological dick, dripping precum and fresh from deep in your faggot colon. Swallow it and beg for more because you love the feeling of me fucking you so hard and deep that my psychological dick screws your turds. It makes you feel alive, it makes you feel whole and complete. It makes you feel nasty and vile and animalistic and proud to be so low, so vile, so disgusting. </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">You feel no shame, only pride that you are such a disgusting anal freak that the stench of your own shit makes your little white cock drip with desire when I'm psychologically fucking the shit out of you.</span></p><p data-mce-style="text-align: justify;" style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">When you are on your back with your legs spread wide open, when you are on your knees, head down, back arched like the little bitch you are, you exist for one purpose, to satisfy my psychological dick, nothing else in the world matters to you. All you care about is the pleasure you feel when I'm ramming my superior psychological Black dick in your white mancunt, stretching you, filling you up and proving how inherently and exponentially inferior you really are. Well, that's not so true, is it? You crave my virile psychological sperm inside, completing you, making you pregnant, filling your big fucking psychological tits with milk so you can caress them, so you can pinch your swollen nipples and keep your horny cunt wet, nourishing my Black baby growing inside you, giving your worthless, empty life meaning and value.</span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></p><p data-mce-style="text-align: justify;" style="font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Will you? Will you let me ram my psychological dick down your throat, destroying all that you know to be true and surrendering to your most primal needs to be used and abused? </p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-78931533163084955402022-05-25T01:12:00.005-04:002022-05-25T01:12:42.257-04:00When We Die<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> What happens after we die? In the movies, when a soul leaves its body it becomes a non-physical form of that body, the soul is always depicted as the exact same version of the living person's body, only it's invisible. In the recounting of near-death experiences, almost everyone recounts the exact same tale: their physical body dies, their soul floats around the room, looking down on the body it just left. We envision our soul as a projection of our physical bodies that is going to be judged for our sins. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imagine for a moment, that death is something different. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imagine that when we die, our soul does, in fact, leave our physical body, but rather than having a human form we become a, let's say . . . a particle of light. No, let's say a wave of light. To say the word particle, you associate it with something physical, like a grain of sand, something very small but something that has a shape, that is made of something, something that can be weighed, no matter how infinitesimally small it may be. A wave of light has no physical form yet it is energized; it is light. It is not, however, a light bulb, glowing and bright and illuminating. It is light that contains all colors on the visible and non-visible spectrum, it is black light. We are indistinguishable from any other wave of light, we ARE the light and the light is . . . all there is. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imagine that when we die, we leave our body and we become all consciousness, all-knowing, all energy, and all love. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imagine that when we die, we no longer have a body, we have no arms, no legs, no organs, not even skin color. We have no physical form whatsoever. We don't have genitals, we are neither male or female, we are . . . a wave of light. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Try to imagine if you can, that we don't even have eyes. We can see but it's not through our eyes, instead, we can SEE . . . because we ARE sight. We are vision. We become sight itself. That may sound absurd to you, impossible to comprehend, but there is a very small part of you that understands completely because . . . at your core . . . you are a wave of light having a human experience. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When we die, we no longer hear, we become sound. We become language. We become music. We become the notes and the instruments. Our consciousness expands and we understand that we are the vibrations and the frequency of . . . everything. Imagine that when we die, we become ALL sound, we are the essence of sound. Sound, light, and color is our identity. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When we die, we become pleasure. When we die, we become ecstasy, we become pure bliss. There is no shame, no guilt, no fear in our non-physical form, in our Black light bodies. We become sensual, erotic, passionate beings of divine light. Religion and society has us convinced that sex is bad, sinful, and wrong. We are consumed with shame and guilt because we think our sexuality is abnormal and we FEAR judgment from others. Imagine that when we die, we understand that we are the ultimate orgasm, that we are INFINITE pleasure. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imagine that when we die, we don't have any shape or form, we just . . . are. We exist as able to go anywhere, any time in the past, present, or future, any location, with just a thought. Imagine if you can, that we communicate with thought, we don't need cell phones and planes because any person we are limitless, without and boundaries.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Close your eyes for a moment, imagine the moment of your death where you don't experience pain or fear, you only feel overwhelming LOVE. Love is your identity. We can see our bodies, we can see our lives, we can see our choices and we know, we understand that all of our choices were perfect for us, that all our mistakes were perfect for our soul to experience life. We chose our body, our race, gender, our station in life all before we are born, to experience joy, pain, suffering, pleasure, growth, stagnation, love and hate. Once we leave our bodies, when our soul's silver cord is cut, we become LOVE. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Pure love. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Then, our consciousness, our soul continues to expand, in all directions, until we can see everything, everything in every direction. We can feel a connection to every living thing. But not just living things, we feel a connection to ALL that is. Everything is vibrating and a frequency and we become that frequency. Can you imagine yourself, outside of your body, existing as a wave of light, and knowing that you are indistinguishable from animal, mineral, or gas. You are the trees, the ocean, you are the bugs that crawl and the birds that fly. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Imagine that when we die, we can communicate with our loved ones with our thoughts. Look at them and know that we can not only hear what they are thinking, we understand on a cellular level that we ARE their thoughts. It's from this place that you can understand that you are your loved one. Your infinite, loving soul is their infinite, loving soul in a different body but your soul is the one, your soul, their soul is the source of all, housed in a human body that has forgotten it's truth, it's real identity. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, imagine if you will, that we can see our enemies, our haters, the people who caused us the most pain in our lives, the people we hate, despise, the people we've spent hours, days, weeks, months, years, and decades hating, being angry at, the person you feel victimized you. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">See them, with your entire being. See them, not with your eyes, but with your sight, your soul, your Black light. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Understand this basic truth. While in human form, EVERYONE BELIVEVES that whatever they think and feel is . . . right. You don't say, "I know those (fill in the blank with a race, class, gender, sexual orientation, religion, or political party) are right and I know I'm wrong about my opinion but I'm going to stick by my wrong opinion for the hell of it." You believe with all your heart, with every fiber in your being that your opinions, perspectives, passions, and convictions are the correct perspective. You believe you are on the right side of the equation. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The funny thing about equations is that both sides are equal. Always.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, take a deep breath and understand this. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We BELIEVE, while we are alive, that the way we see the world is the right way to see it, that our opinions about race, justice, politics, sex, religion, all our beliefs come to us based on our story, our experience, our personality. How we have come to see the world not our conscious choosing. We were born into a family, a community, a country, whatever group we identity with, that taught us our values, that shaped our perspective based on our environment, our experience on the Earth plane. We all believe that anyone who doesn't agree with us is wrong. That belief is Universal. We see ourselves as separate, different, individual and unique but we see ourselves and our understanding as . . . right. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In AmeriKKKa, this is easily demonstrated by political beliefs. Every person, in every corner of the country, the Republican and the Democrat, both see themselves as right, both think that anyone who disagrees with them is crazy. Every person believes themselves to be the arbiter of truth. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We are waves of Dark Energy: all-encompassing, omniscient and omnipotent, wearing a human costume, designed to forget who we really, to forget we are all consciousness, connected to all, we are all thought and the thinker. Your soul, your spark came to this place and time to experience this 3-D realm of love and fear, separation and connection, shame and pride, guilt and joy, and all the emotions that humans are capable of having. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">If you can understand, if you can accept that the person who disagrees with you, based on their experiences, their story, their gender, race, religion, income, sexual orientation, size, attractiveness (or lack thereof) BELIEVES that their perspective is right, then you can see them with compassion and empathy while you are still alive. If you can look at the person you find offensive and wrong through the all-seeing eyes of your soul, you will have reached enlightenment because you will understand that you, the spirit that moves you and animates you is God, and that you are in every single thing, physical and non physical. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">At a soul level, the racist and the person of color are no different. They both were born to families that indoctrinated them with beliefs about the world, about God, about men and women, about politics, etc. The racist and the person of color were both born in a society that reinforced that white people are superior and that Back people are inherently inferior. The both experienced two sides of the same coin, they were both told by society that they had a role that came with the skin color they were born with. They both learned to navigate a world based on the belief that God was a white man in the sky who judges you if you have freaky sex. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">God is your knowledge, your voice, your creativity, your peace, your nurturing and loving self. God is the voice in your head that loves, protects, and guides you. You are the source. You are the creator. You are the thinker. "You're a driver, not a passenger in life." (Lyrics to a song by the Brand New Heavies. ). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">If can you understand that profound truth, if you can embrace that understanding, if you can accept that truth into your mind and heart, you will have found peace on Earth. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We are all here to experience otherness. We are all here to experience separateness, to forget that we are ONE, the one, the source of all. We are all here in these 3D models, to believe that our religion is the right religion. We are all here to believe that our political party is the righteous one and that we are better than the people who don't think like us and believe in what we believe in. When you transcend that mindset, you win the game of life. </span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-87942102714758828392022-03-31T14:30:00.006-04:002022-03-31T14:30:59.727-04:00The Game is Rigged<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> (Or why ALL white people are RACIST)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I asked the question to anti-racists recently, "What have you done in the past that was racist?" Tons of white people responded. Most of the answers I got were, "I viewed Black people negatively, I believed XYZ about Black people." (Fill in the blank with a stereotypical depiction of Black people.)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Everyone who responded listed racist thoughts and beliefs they had that were straight from the anti-racist laundry list of white offenses and microaggressions. Very few white people identified actual behaviors or actions that were racist and the ones that did responded with benign, innocent, casual instances of racism. Even fewer identified any behaviors that were hurtful or examples of overt racism.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">All the respondents (with the exception of one or two) were all quite adamant that racism wasn't as bad as I said it was because they couldn't think of anything they had done in the past that was offensive, hurtful, or malignant. They were quite content to admit that they had white privilege and they felt shame for being racist in the past, but they were equally as assured that their racism was of the lite variety and that they were innocent of anything that would be considered offensively racist.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Most of the respondents arrogantly asserted that racism was only in certain parts of the country, that I was exaggerating, that they knew more about racism than me, and that I was seeing racism where there wasn't any.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That speaks to just exactly how immature, uniformed, and deluded white people are about race, racism, the impact and scope of racism, their participation in it, and how pervasive it is.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Conversely, I asked Black people to describe the racism they face constantly, so that we could shed light on the behaviors of white people that are offensive and racist and pervasive. Not one Black person offered even an attempt to respond. that speaks to just how used to racism Black people are. We can't even identify racism because the system was built so that being oppressed is the norm and we don't even have the vocabulary or wherewithal to address it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Today, here, now, I want to address the misperceptions, rationalizations, and false beliefs white anti-racists have about racism.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">One of the responses I got referred to an analogy, created by another white person who was working diligently to dismantle their white privilege and racist beliefs, that racism was like high fructose corn syrup being in foods where you wouldn't expect it. That analogy is completely wrong. It couldn't be more wrong in fact.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm going to gently suggest that racism is far more pervasive than high fructose corn syrup is in foods. Yes, it's in processed foods and you can barely touch an item in the grocery store without it. But the fact is, you can buy produce without it, fruits and vegetables don't have it. Meat and fish don't have high fructose corn syrup either. Rice and grains don't have high fructose corn syrup. You can shop at coop health food stores that offer foods with it. There are companies that specifically create healthy food without additives and chemicals. You can grow and make your own food that doesn't have high fructose corn syrup.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Equating racism to HFCS is a false equivalent because it implies that racism is pervasive but not ever-present.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">EVERYONE born in this society, Black, white, and other, is a victim of racism. White people benefit from it. White people are emotionally, mentally, and psychologically crippled by it. People of color suffer from racism in that we are so debilitated, we don't even understand or grasp what life would be like outside of a racist context. No one is immune from the plague of racism, there is no one who isn't touched by it. There are no pockets of places where racism doesn't exist.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The analogy that I prefer, the analogy that is more accurate than the high fructose corn syrup is equating our reality to a video game.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The video game was designed in what we understand as 1000s of years ago but that's not entirely accurate. Time is an illusion, time is a feature of the game and it's been manipulated by the programmers of the game to make it seem like white people are the creators and inventors of all, the architects of society and civilization. The programmers created a game in which white people are always the winners, Black people are always the losers, and everyone else is somewhere in between.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Being born in racist AmeriKKKa, the epicenter of the deception, programmers designed the game so that white people have all the superpowers, you have all the super weapons, you get all the points, and your character doesn't get shot or killed or dinged, your upgrades don't cost anything, the whole game is built to make white people the superhero and the winner. Cheating gets rewarded, the game is built so that white people win without skill, ability, merit, or prowess.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">More importantly, white people get all the points that the Black characters earn in the game. Black characters invent, create, and build everything and the programmers wrote the code so that it appears that white people created everything.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The rules of the video game apply to every character. There aren't any characters in the game that operate under different rules there are no characters in the game that are programmed to operate under different rules.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">THERE ARE NO CHARACTERS IN THE GAME THAT OPERATE OUTSIDE THE GAME'S DESIGN.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the game, the Black characters get not only don't get any points or any superpowers, they not only forfeit all their points to white characters, Black characters get dinged for any mistake they make but they also get dinged for any mistakes that the white characters make.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The game is designed for Black characters to lose and for white characters to win in all ways, always.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White characters can destroy the planet, colonize countries to exploit it's populations, white characters can manipulate the economy and give false value to items and things in order to gain wealth and power, white characters can be sexual deviants who molest children in plain sight and who are still given the benfit of the doubt, they operate criminal networks with impunity, they never suffer the consequences of their actions. They steal, lie, cheat, and murder and they are still seen as moral, upright, upstanding, and inherently superior.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Do all the characters do those things? No. But all the characters benefit from the program being designed to depict whiteness and without flaw.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">ALL THE WHITE CHARACTERS BENEFIT FROM THE PROGRAM THAT DEEMS WHITENESS RIGHT.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The white characters have been programmed to see themselves as godlike, even if they aren't as rich and wealthy as the programmers, they still see themselves reflected in the faces of the programmers who created this false reality. They don't comprehend the unfairness of the game, they see it as the way things have always been, it's not unfair, it's the way the programmers designed the game, it's the way things are supposed to be.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For white characters, life is smooth sailing. For Black characters, life is</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">hell. Life is hell but that is all they know, that is how the program was designed, and they don't even comprehend a reality other than struggle and pain and lack and even more pain. Black characters see white characters, how they interact in the game, how the game was designed for them but the characters in the game can't change the program, so the Black characters keep on playing with no hope of things ever changing, no hope of ever winning.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A glitch in the program has allowed the white characters to see that the program was designed with inequality in the coding. But for white characters, they can't comprehend or grasp what the Black characters have experienced AND they are completely incapable of re-writing the code so that there is equality in the game so that tiny glitch, the knowledge and understanding of how the game was rigged in their favor, to the white characters, is a single grain of sand on a beach.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The white characters, however, perceive it to be the totality of racism. The white characters believe that they can understand and grasp the complexity of inequality when all they really see is a tiny fraction of it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White characters comprehend a tiny speck of the reality of the surreal world in which they live, they don't see the scope, range, and impact of the inequality and they dismiss any complaints from the Black characters that the game is rigged in their favor. To the white characters, they have won for millennia legitimately.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White people, human beings, have been told, convinced, they BELIEVE that their whiteness is right, they believe that they are superior to Blacks, that Blacks are inherently inferior. It's written in the code. The baseline of their beliefs, built into the program, is that Black people are less than whites.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's how the game was designed.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The game is rigged in white people's favor.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The game is rigged for Black people to lose.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So, here we are, in the real 3D world. White people have come to realize that racism exists, that the game has been rigged in their favor, they grasp that it's wrong, and they think that because they have some inkling that things have been rigged in their favor, that they understand how the game has been designed, how Black people feel, and that their acknowledgment of racism means that they are not racist.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anti-racists, in the game of life as we experience it, collectively, see, understand, and comprehend about 5% of the whole picture, they glimpse about 5% of the inequity of the game but the assume they see, understand, and comprehend 95% of the inequality of racism. That is understandable, the game has been designed for you to think that you are the source of all that is good, right, that all knowledge comes from white people. Then there are 95% of the white players in the game still very much content to believe that the game is fair, that the fact that they always win is God's will. God, unfortunately, is a racist programmer who capitalizes off of the blood, sweat, tears, work, art, creativity, strength, beauty, talent, and endurance of Black people.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But because white people in the game of 3D life, in the world as we know it, have been programmed to believe that they are always right, that they collectively do nothing wrong, that they deserve points for doing nothing, that they deserve to win, they are shocked, offended and frustrated when they get dinged, when a Black person calls them on their racism. They can't wrap their heads around being told they are wrong and that the game is rigged in their favor.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anti-racists are quite convinced that they are immune to the program, that they are characters outside the game.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The entire game, the life we live, the reality of this dimension, the 3D world we live in has been created so white people don't get penalized for their fuck up and they get rewarded for cheating and they always win. That programming can't be changed overnight. That programming can't be changed at all with the limited and narrow glimpse that white people have of how the game is played.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The entire game, the life we live, the reality of this dimension, the 3D world we live in, has been created so that Black people are the best players in the game, the Black characters are the most resilient, the Black characters have the most integrity, the Black characters have the most creativity, ingenuity, the most strength, the Black characters are the better players, period, but the Black characters have been programmed to believe that they are not even in the same league as white people. Black people have lived in a dimensional reality where our contributions have been stolen and attributed to white people. Black people live in a reality where our intellect has been negated and we have been designed as losers.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So here, in 2022 as we understand it, white people have been convinced for their entire lifetimes that time, space, and technology have been their domain, that they are masters of the universe. Here, in 2022, Black people are saying that the game isn't fair, that the game is rigged in white people's favor and the vast and overwhelming majority of white people are saying, "No, it's not! The game absolutely is fair. We are better and you are just complaining because you always lose and we always win but that's because we are really superior."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The small minority of white people who are doing their best to be anti-racist are saying, "OK, I get it that the game isn't fair. I get it." But they have played in a game where the rules have been bent in their favor, so their default mode, the understanding that they go back to when challenged, is, "I'm right, you Black people are wrong, I know more than you, you can't tell me because I know . . ."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That's the nature of the reality we live in. White people BELIEVE that Blacks are inferior, that they deserve to be impoverished and imprisoned disproportionately because that's how the system was designed. They can't articulate it in that way because the programmed wasn't designed for them to be self aware. The program was designed for white people to believe that they are god.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">EVERYTHING in this society, every message, every practice, every belief, every law, every societal norm has been designed and programmed around the belief that Blacks are inherently inferior. There is no way a white person can be born in this society (meaning this time and space, across the globe, not just the United States) without being a victim of the belief that white people are superior and Blacks are inferior because that's the foundation of the game, that is how this dimension was built.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White people BELIEVE that racism is like high fructose corn syrup, that you only some foods have it and that it can be avoided. Racism is far more destructive, pervasive, and crippling than any additive in food.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Racism is not in the air that we breathe. Racism IS the air we breathe: it's omnipresent, it's designed into the game, the system is racist. The game has to crash and be redesigned to escape the suffocating oppression of racism.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-16093198525403393072022-03-27T23:50:00.002-04:002022-03-27T23:50:24.227-04:00 You are racist. <p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I know, I know! That simple declaration angers you. You are offended and outraged that a Black person would call you a racist or dare to assert that they know more about racism than you. There is no other word that triggers white people more than being called racist. I get it, I really do. You think I'm a racist for even discussing racism. You see red when Black people talk about racism. You believe you aren't racist because "you don't see color", because "you weren't raised racist," and because you think that being racist is the worst thing a white person can be. You are quite convinced that racism isn't that bad, Obama being elected proves that racism is over, and that Black people are exaggerating about racism, complaining for no reason. (Most of you won't even make it through the first paragraph before posting a comment that I'm the racist.)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The sad fact is, if you are white and especially if you are male and alive today you are a victim of the very false belief that white men are the center of the universe, the creators of all, the source of everything that is good and holy in the world. That makes you racist. The truth is white men would be nothing without the magical forces that have stolen, usurped, cheated, and manipulated time and space, history, technology, religion, politics, capitalism and finance, and societal norms to project the false image that white men are superior. You are not!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">At your core, you believe that people of African descent have contributed nothing to the world, to arts, the humanities, to culture, science, math, and religion because our history has been destroyed and rewritten so that white men are the heroes, the inventors, the originators all. You believe that Black people are inherently, genetically inferior because that has been the projected narrative for centuries. You can't have been born in a society built on the oppression of Black people without being racist. We are not and have never been and we will never be an inferior race of people. You are not, have never been, will never be superior. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is no greater indication of an inferior race than one who thinks that enslaving, raping, torturing, selling, branding, and murdering another human being for no reason other than the color of their skin makes you superior. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">You believe that generations of enslavement, abuse, denial of education, and oppression, GENERATIONS of debilitating and systemic oppression have no detrimental and lingering causational effects on the psyche of Black people today, a race of people who have been falsely depicted as inferior for longer than you've been alive. That is part and parcel of the fallacy of white supremacy, that is the definition of being racist. You believe, at your core, that Black people in the ghetto deserve to be there because of the poor choices they've made, never once considering that they didn't choose the circumstances of their birth in the same way you didn't choose yours. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The true contributions of Black people to society and civilization have been erased, obscured, and stolen. We are NOT inherently criminal, lazy, or stupid. We exist as more than objects to fulfill your sexual fetish. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If any of the following are applicable to you, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but . . . Yes, you are racist. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You are obsessed with Black sexuality. Every Black person you look at you imagine being sexual with them, you see yourself as entitled to pleasure from any Black person you find attractive.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You believe that Black men are sexual savages, bucks, and bulls with an inherent lust for white woman.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You refer to Black men as BBC without respecting the fact that they are human beings, not once considering that they are not giant dildos for your pleasure. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You are fully invested in believing that Black people are welfare queens and thugs while ignoring your own children being drug addicted and a menace to society with their criminal behavior. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- No form of Black protest is acceptable to you: not marching, not kneeling, certainly not rioting, not even hashtags are acceptable to you.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You think of Black women as being sassy and naturally dominant, never once considering that we are human beings and capable of a full spectrum of feelings, emotions, and states.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You long for the good old days when America was great, but it was never great: lynching, Jim Crow, and suffocating racism were at their peak when America was being depicted as if it was without flaw.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You claim your one Black friend as evidence of the fact that you aren't racist but they've never been to your home, you've never been to theirs.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You watch interracial porn night and day; you've watched it every day for years </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You troll Black people online to tell them that they are reverse racists (not a real thing, btw) and then with no irony whatsoever, you obsessively masturbate to fantasies of being gangbanged and used by Blacks.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You create fake profiles to tell Black people that you are a person of color and that if you don't find something racist, it's not and they are wrong.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You secret away to bookstores and glory holes to suck off Black men like an addiction and go home to your wife with a litany of lies and deceptions that indicate how much you hate Black men. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You half-quote Martin Luther King and you've never read a single speech of his, you have convinced yourself that white people during the 60s loved him.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You pretend that you need to be forced by a woman to suck a big, black cock in order to uphold your image of whiteness. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- If a Black person calls out your racist behavior, you have every excuse at the ready for why you can't be racist rather than listening or apologizing.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You can only get aroused and erect in your marital bed by thinking about your wife being fucked by Black men. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You dress up as a sissy and proclaim you are transgender to justify your insatiable appetite for sex with Black men but you don't do a mother fucking thing to uplift women or women's issues or women's rights when you present as male to the world. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You think you're the only white man aroused by Blacks.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You think having sex with Black people is taboo but sex with Asian or Latino people isn't. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You think being submissive to Black people is degrading and humiliating. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You are convinced you have no privilege for being white.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You are convinced that your attraction to Black people means you aren't racist. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You never speak up or defend Black people in public when your friends and coworkers say racist things. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You feel compelled to say racist things in front of your friends because you think you need to make sure they know you are like them and you don't want them to know that you are secretly sucking off Black men every chance you get.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You swear your devotion and allegiance to Black people behind closed doors but you never do anything in public to lift up, support, or defend Black people.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You've never taken a single anti-racism workshop and all your racism talking points are cliche's you repeat because they are ingrained in your psyche, not because they have validity. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You dream of a New Black World Order but the only aspects you consider sexual.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- You don't want to be racist but you don't want to do anything other than what you have been doing because contemplating doing something to change your worldview is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">- </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Once white people accept that being racist doesn't make them inherently evil they can learn to divest themselves of the fallacy of white supremacy. It's not simple, it's hard as fuck because everything in your body, mind and soul tells you that you are not wrong, that you are not racist, but you are. It's past time for white people to wake up to their collective racist behaviors and address them. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">(Fetlife censors: Please note that discussing the racist behaviors of white people is not hate speech even if what I wrote makes you angry.)</span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-84657481285364903172021-12-13T12:48:00.005-05:002021-12-13T12:48:32.605-05:00Shining Light on the Shadows<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I am the paragon of Love. In trying to heal, evolve, and grow in enlightenment, I have to speak my truth to power, I have to use my gift to heal myself. I have been trying to ignore the hurt I feel I've had for the last month because 1. I'm going through so much in my life right now that I'm overwhelmed with emotion.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">and 2. I'm so entirely used to white men being assholes, that I've grown to accept it and not even address the personal pain if feel when I'm betrayed by someone I've invested in. I invested in a white man more than I've ever done in my life, more than I thought possible, and he ghosted for no reason and not addressing it has stunted my creativity and I can't have that.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Without question, 2021 has been the most fucked up/transformative year of my life. In January, my third eye was opened to a reality that I never knew existed. I "woke" up to an understanding, an instant realization that MAGICK exists, that the reality of life that I thought existed was an illusion. I have processed feelings of betrayal from my family, from society, I have done more introspection and self-examination in the last 12 months than I thought was possible simply because my eyes have been opened up to exactly how fucked up our world is. What I haven't done is addressed the two decades of betrayal I've felt from white men because I've been socialized to accept their betrayal as the norm.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I've always been fearless when it comes to speaking my truth about racism and the same is true about speaking my truth about my understanding and awareness of the Devil, oaths, magick, and the true Wizard of Oz fucked-up reality in which we live. Along with that awareness I've also had to accept as the definitive truth that I AM Divine, that God is my voice, and that we, collectively as Black people are the true architects of the UNIVERSE.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Speaking that truth has alienated my entire client base on Nite Flirt. White men with money, my normal clients, have access to magick and as I spoke my truth about my understanding and awareness, my callers stopped. I am persona non grata to them. My income went from flowing to stagnant, to nothing in 2021 as I refused to pretend that things were "normal" like us Munchkins are supposed to believe.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Who I am as a Domme was shaped by the fallacy of white supremacy. White men, the masterful manipulators who control and dictate what we believe, have forced their narrative of lies and racism on the world, especially in creating our sexual identity. We, people of color, have been victims to their distorted manipulations for so long we don't even question the stupid shit that passes as truth. (This is totally not where I wanted to go with this piece but it is the foundation of my hurt so I'll process it.) So, 22 years ago, when I started to explore my role as a Domme, I didn't have options, I couldn't choose the parameters of my identity, I was expected to fill the role of humilatrix, filling white men's need for humiliation and degradation because . . . Well, I'm not sure why. I know it has something to do with them trying to manipulate pronouns and the words I speak about them are somehow reflected in the alternative world back to me. I don't understand it all.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Anyway, the point is, I have been a Domme for 22 years based on this model of whiteness where white men seek, crave, and manipulate me into their fucked-up game of BEGGING me to humiliate them to get . . . I don't know, demonic points or something, I guess it has something to do with denying our power and the reality that Black people truly are superior, we truly are God made manifest. My identity as a Domme has always been one of us versus them. I have always fought to be seen as human by very racist and obtuse white men. I have always had to battle whiteness. It's always been a fight: a fight for them to not be so fucking obnoxious and arrogant, a constant battle for them to see me, to see Black people as human beings, and it's always been framed by the narrative that they are too obtuse and ignorant to get how racist and fucked up they are. Turns out they know exactly how racist and offensive they are and they do it intentionally to incite emotion in us, to anger us because they get power or something from our emotions.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Still not what I wanted to address but I'm letting this flow in whatever way it wants to go so I can heal and move on.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have always identified myself as a psychological Domme, meaning I get in a white man's head and fuck him mentally. I have never once in my life wanted to dress up in a leather outfit and conform to some sassy Black bitch role who spanks white men. That would have been conforming to their sickness. The thought of having a white man engage with me sexually has always been repulsive to me so I even the thought of having a white man eat my pussy . . . I just threw up in my mouth. Just the thought is repulsive.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have always been the intellectual Domme who addresses white men's racism. My nut has always been derived from knowing that I have been able to force white men to acknowledge that I'm superior to them in all ways, not just some sexual roleplay they use to manipulate me, but making them realize that they are truly inferior, that they are weak and pathetic, that the fallacy of white superiority is just that, a fallacy. White men have never been superior in any way. I love knowing that white men walk away from me, run away from me with the understanding that I am a Bad Bitch, that they understand that I'm truly superior to them in more ways than they are capable of truly grasping.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I should say at this point that I've never once had a submissive. I use the words "own a submissive" with the awareness that I've come to see that as a manipulation as well. They want me to be as barbaric as they are, they want me to see them as property and a possession so I can be as fucked up as they are. I've engaged with white men, I've dominated white men psychologically and mentally, but I've never had a white man commit to being my submissive. White men have always used me to get them off and then run away. All of them. I have never had a white man want to be my submissive.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have been on a quest to find one white man who was willing to commit to me.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I've gotten frustrated over the years too many times to count, seeking this mythical white submissive who wanted to belong to me. I chased after the concept of "the one", the one white man who would see my value and appreciate and respect that I was different, the one who saw that I was special, that I was worth the effort. I've read accounts of white men telling how they have found the Domme of their dreams and how devoted they were to her. I wanted that.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have had white men who tell me how amazing and wonderful and special I am and then they run away. All of them. Well, not all of them. The simple ones, the ones who don't meet my standards, they are clueless that they don't meet my standards, they don't run away, I have to push them away. The arrogant, offensive, obnoxious and overtly racist ones, the ones who assume that I will dominate them simply because they think I'm an amusement to them, that I will get them off and they can use me, I have to block them. The ones I want to dominate, they all run away.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, here I am, 2021, more than two decades of dominating white men, still searching for the elusive one, the one who will recognize that I'm exceptional and want to belong to me, and now having this added knowledge of the occult that is driving white men away from me like I have the plague, and I meet someone here on Fetlife who sends me a message saying he read my writings and he's intrigued.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Immediately, from the first message, I was impressed. It wasn't copy and paste. It was respectful, he didn't assume I would dominate him just because I lived in the same vicinity, he wasn't typically racist and arrogant. We communicated well. I read his profile, all of it, and it was offensive, but I made note of the fact that there were two different tones. His most recent entries, postings, and comments were far less racist and offensive than his posting from more than a year ago.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The communication continued to flow, I was pushing him to see me as a human being in ways he had never done, in ways NO white people ever do. He wasn't as anti-racist as I would have wanted my potential submissive to be but he made up for it by wanting to learn to be anti-racist and being open to learning. Let me be clear, as I told him time and time again, he was a 2 on an anti-racism scale of 1-100, but considering that most white men are in the negative numbers, that was a decent place to start for us.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">What followed was three intense weeks of me teaching him, me learning to become a different Domme, it was a master class in me coming to the understanding that there is no way in hell that white men are ever going to unlearn their racism unless I am gentle, loving, kind, forgiving, forgiving, and even more forgiving. I was learning that I could be the Domme I wanted to be, but I that in order for me to evolve, I had to become a teacher, not a Domme who gets pissed when white men display their ingrained racism.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I've been fighting racists and racism my entire life, not just as an aspect of my sexuality because my Blackness is not a fetish, it's my identity. I've confronted racism with passion my entire life. With Jonathan, I was able to confront his racism from a place of guidance and teaching, not anger and frustration that he didn't see his own racism. I'm not sure I'm saying that correctly.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Jonathan was racist in the typical ways white men are racist, but he was willing to grow and learn. He assumed he was right, he denied and lied, he had excuses for his racism at the ready, and he was resistant to accepting that his behaviors were typical. But through it all, with me embracing that I was never going to teach a white man not to be racist by getting angry and frustrated with their ignorance, I softened my tone and we continued to grow.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I thought I had found the one, my submissive. I even changed my status on Fetlife, something I had never had an occasion to be before. Ever.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For 22 years, I've operated under the assumption that if I was reasoned and logical and showed white men exactly how they are racist, that they would realize how their actions and behaviors were hurtful and they would be motivated to change. Wrong!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Not being mean is not the same thing as being loving. That was themost important lesson I had to learn. Telling him about his racism in a way that wasn't antagonistic or hurtful is not the same thing as being kind and loving. For 22 years, I've been expecting white men to see their racism because I've been logical and blunt and straight forward, not personally attacking them, but showing them what they can't see from their perspective. And when they don't get it, when they don't see racism, and oppression and the inherent fallacy of white supremacy, I get angry. I have a right to be angry at their racism but my anger doesn't teach them to be less racist. Not being mean is not the same thing as being loving. It's a hard lesson to learn for a teacher who is actively oppressed by their student.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I had to being loving. I had to show more empathy, more care, I had to be more gentle and kind and nurturing and loving to him than I had ever been in my life . . . I have never had an occasion to be gentle and loving and kind to a white man before because white men are bred to be racist and racism hurts, it's offensive, because white men are totally fucking clueless as to how hurtful even their "innocent" racism is.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For three weeks, I invested in him. I forgave. I taught. For hours and hours, every day, texting, writing, talking, I instructed. I guided. I corrected in the most gentle and loving way possible. He had made the promise to me that he wasn't going to run away, that he was in this for the long haul. For the first time in 22 years, I thought I had found someone who wanted to belong to me. I thought he and I were going to spend years together, playing, exploring, being nasty in real life, not just online. When he was racist, I was loving. When he was clueless, I was loving.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Until he ran away.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I THINK the reason he ran away is because he didn't want to make the financial commitment to belong to me. I can't be sure. The only issue we had that I think he could use as an excuse to run away was that he had been being insensitive to me, ignoring the fact that I was going through financial hardship while I was giving him Ph.D level instruction FOR FREE on a daily basis. I told him I needed to take three of four days to myself because teaching him was far more exhaustive for me than learning from me was for him. I asked for however many days it was, three, four, five, whatever it was, and he contacted me damn near every day by text, DM, he didn't respect my request. On the scale of offensive behavior, it was minor.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I understood where his needy behavior was coming from and I told him it was problematic but I didn't make a big deal of it and we continued on. We talked, everything was fine, smooth, no problems. A day or two later, some racist white man made a comment on something I said on Fetlife and I mentioned him in my response, saying that I couldn't wait for the day that he was articulate and anti-racist enough to be able to respond to white men for me. He sent me a text, saying I had called him out on Fetlife. I responded that I didn't call him out, that I MENTIONED him and that he wasn't prepared to address racism in any way currently.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That's the last communication we had.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That doesn't seem like a valid reason to run away to me. As best I can figure out, he decided that he didn't want to financially invest in belonging to me so it would just be easier to ignore me rather than tell me that he wasn't going to fulfill his financial commitment to me.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Jonathan was under the typical white male delusion that I should consider teaching him an honor and he couldn't and didn't grasp that he was benefitting from me and that I was not getting equal benefit from teaching him. Racism is offensive. He was under the assumption that because his racism wasn't as offensive as most white men's, that somehow he was a great guy and that teaching, guiding, training, instructing, and correcting him, all in gentle, loving, forgiving manner was no big deal for me. He was under the impression that there was some equality to our relationship, that I should value the opportunity to teach and guide him, again, for free, as much as he valued learning from me. That's not even how society works. You can't go to Harvard and expect to be educated for free.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I asked him to make a financial investment in belonging to me because I wanted to know that he wasn't going to run away, that he wouldn't just jump ship when things were difficult and that he was going to see things through to the end. And the end would mean him coming to ATL (and I was even willing to compromise on that) three or four times a year to be the sexual plaything for me and, eventually, my lover. I don't ever demand or require a certain amount, I've only ever told white men to decide how much they want to invest in belonging to me and to date, not one man has ever even made the verbal commitment to invest in belonging to me, let alone followed through with doing so. He said he was going to and he wanted to be my submissive long term. All he had to do was talk to his wife and make sure she was on the same page. Of course, he had to find the right time to do that because he couldn't just talk to her about it out of the blue, the stars had to align perfectly so that he could present her with this opportunity.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I can't count the number of white men who have promised to belong to me and then run away, I can't count the number of white men who have said they wanted to belong to me and simply ghosted. I thought he was going to be different and it hurts. I loved who I was with him. I loved how I was growing and evolving. I loved the results I saw in him.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I can honestly say I loved him and that's what hurts the most. I loved the way he would reflect on what I told him and the processes he used to find a new way to look at his privilege. I loved how he challenged himself to acknowledge that he was racist. We were exploring truths and realities (well I think we were, it could have all be a giant manipulation) that were unchartered territory for me.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, not only am I not missing that place he had in my life and what we shared, I'm disgusted and angry and resentful towards every racist fucked up white man who isn't him, who doesn't share his potential to be my perfect submissive.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I need to make a side note here. During this time, this magical three weeks of bliss and communication and growing and evolving as a Domme, my creativity was off the charts. Three weeks seems like such a short period of time but for me it was magical, in the non magick way. I was writing and coming up with concepts that still blow my mind. Every day I was being challenged to forgive and be loving to help him see how racist and fucked up he was in ways that didn't make him feel like shit for being racist and fucked up in ways he wasn't even aware of.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The whole process was a challenge and I had to keep accepting that "not being mean is not the same thing as being loving." I had to be nurturing, I had to be gentle. I had to be forgiving of his fuck-ups and understand that he was even more a victim of this society than Black people have ever been. He was operating under this false narrative that white men are superior, that they know everything, that they have a right to have the last word, that they are never wrong, that they don't have to apologize, that they don't have to tell the truth, on and on and on.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I can't imagine finding anyone more compatible with me than he was at this moment. We fit. His style of communication, his eagerness to learn, his ability to apologize after he realized he was wrong. Again, he had a long way to go because my 5-year-old grandson apologizes better than he did but he was light years ahead of most white men in even his willingness to admit he was wrong.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My desire to write has diminished in the last month. When I was training and teaching him, I couldn't stop writing. Every second, it seemed, that I wasn't teaching him, I was exploring ways to communicate and teach other white men to see our humanity in loving ways, and how I could use my stories, how I could incorporate the techniques I was learning from dealing with him into the larger scale of teaching white men who read my work.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I have been ignoring the hurt because I'm so used to it. I'm used to white men taking advantage of me and then running away when I'm no longer useful to them. I've accepted as the norm white men who tell me that they want to be my submissive and never follow through, who ignore me after promising to be devoted to me. I'm accustomed to white men who make promises they have no intention of fulfilling. I'm tired of it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It's one thing to have someone I'm not interested in be a dick. That doesn't bother me. What does bother me is when I invest in someone who doesn't invest in me back. I have to acknowledge that. I have to acknowledge it makes me feel worthless and hurt. I have to shine light on the shadows. I know in my heart, in my soul, I know that I'm superior to white men and that my worth isn't tied to what their approval of me, their willingness to belong or commit to me but I also have to acknowledge that their rejection of me is hurtful when I've given so much of myself in the pursuit of a dream that will never come true.</span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-43681340807495206572021-12-08T23:40:00.003-05:002021-12-08T23:40:16.944-05:00Imagine the Post Apocolyptic World<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> The year, 2022.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">China had bombed the shit out of Washington D.C., NYC, and their armies have taken over every major city, killing anyone and everyone with power with no conscious whatsoever. They have technologically advanced weapons, weapons that make guns look like sling shots.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">California has become a huge deportation holding center. Families from across the country, broken, beaten, starving, terrified have been marched across the country on foot, without food and water, chained to the dead and the dying, most not surviving.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Once in California, separated from everyone you know and love, in a stadium full of sick people who are as afraid as you, as sick, exhausted, and depressed as you, you wait and wait and wait for months. You wait for what you don't know because all of your captors speak Chinese. You don't understand anything they say. You are housed with people from all over the country but it seems rare that you hear someone speak English. You hear all the many languages that make up the United States but you don't speak anything but English.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">After months of being held prisoner in this huge stadium, you are herded into a shipping container, no light, barely enough air to breath, hot as fuck during the day and freezing cold at night. The container is put on a ship and it takes MONTHS for you to reach China. You are packed so tightly you have no room to move. There is no bathroom so you must piss and shit where you lay. The stench of everyone's waste becomes a part of your being. You want desperately to see someone you know but you search for faces and you feel alone. You are given food but it's infested with maggots. Even without the insects, not even food fit for human consumption.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You are transported to China where everyone who survived the trip is hosed down and given clean clothes and you are paraded in front of men who yell strange things and the next thing you know, you are transported off to a strange city and you understand that it is supposed to be your new home.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The food is strange, you don't know the language and you see others like you, but the light is gone from their eyes. They look dead inside.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You are beaten. They beat you until you accept the new name they give you. They beat you until you renounce your religion and you accept atheism. The beatings go on so long you pray for death.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You are raped. Men are raped anally to make them subservient, women are raped to impregnate them to produce half Chinese offspring that will be sold off for profit to child molesters and rapists.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Your employers, in name only because you aren't paid, beat when you speak English. They beat you when you don't produce enough in the factory. They beat your for their sick and sadistic pleasure.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You are forced to work in a factory, night and day, with no rest, scraps and garbage for food. You are housed in a room, all you have is a cot with no sheets.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You are told how horrible America is, and how grateful you should be for living in China.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You are told that ONLY Chinese people are beautiful and that they are naturally superior.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">They do not allow you to read or write. You are not allowed possessions. You are not allowed to date or marry anyone of your own choosing. You aren't allowed any rights as a human being.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">All you want to do is go home. You want your old life back. You want the safety and security of your own home. You want your family. You want your name. You want your life back.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Eventually, you gain your freedom. Well not you, but the descendants of people born in American, generations and generations later, in 2422, gain their freedom from the tyranny. They know nothing of America other than what the Chinese have told them. They have no traditions, no memories, no books or TV shows to show what it was like in America, only the accounts of what the Chinese have said it was like, which was horrible.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The freed descendants of Americans continue to reside in China because they have no connection to America whatsoever. They are treated like second class citizens, denied the same rights as the Chinese natives. They never know true freedom because of what they look like. Their skin tells people that they are not really Chinese even if they were born and raised there, even if they only know China as their home. Most people find a way to survive, living their lives trying to stay under the radar and not cause any trouble.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Some descendants of Americans fight for equality and justice, to be treated as fully Chinese, with all the rights and privileges afforded to the real Chinese people. They protest and march demanding justice. The Chinese police mow them down in the streets for entertainment and sport. The Chinese media reports that it's those American Chinese people that are the real problem. They are illiterate, criminal, lazy, and they don't appreciate all that China has done for them.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">They take to the streets and they scream, "American Lives Matter"</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, do you get it?</span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-55105998181517543792021-11-13T04:31:00.001-05:002021-11-13T04:31:17.215-05:00Pathological Truther<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> I hate when people tell me that they never lie. Everyone lies. Everyone lies all day, every day, for things they don't need to lie about. For the better part of 25 years or so, I've worked hard on telling the truth. It's hard. It takes effort and thought and diligence. Everyone in this society lies so much that it's accepted. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">TV has people convinced that lying is difficult and you can always tell if someone is lying by looking at them because liars always stress out and you get nervous and start sweating. "Hey, murderer pretending to be innocent, let us strap you up to this machine to see if you're lying." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The truth is, people lie so easily it can't be detected. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I lied last week. I was talking to someone and I said, "And the reason I know that is . . ." In the short time it took for me to say the words, "And the reason I know that is," I had already calculated in my mind the pros and cons of telling the truth, weighed both options, I reasoned that the outcome would be less problematic if I lied, and I came up with a lie that sounded feasible and didn't miss a beat between the word is and the word because. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I wasn't planning to lie. By that, I mean, I hadn't started out the conversation with the intention of lying. I didn't even start out the sentence intending to lie. It wasn't like I had been anticipating the conversation for days and had rehearsed the lie in my mind. Spur of the moment, at the speed of light, I made up a lie.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I performed at least 6 major thought processes in LESS than a fraction of a second. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I later confessed and apologized for my lie. It wasn't about anything big or major or personal. I lied about HOW I knew that the race war had started already and the media just isn't reporting it. I told him that I had a submissive white man who was a doctor who gave me the real deal. LOL, that's dumb a dumb lie now that I think about it. Why would a white doctor tell me about the efforts of white people to kill people of color? I didn't want to say, "I'm the recipient of supranatural insights into the Universe." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I came clean about the lie and the reason I lied. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I had a few years out of the last 25 where I lied like average people. I had found my old boss on Facebook. I wanted to call her and tell her that I loved her. I loved her in a way that was pure Divine love. She was racist, horrible, and evil to me when I worked for her. But she was part of the puzzle that, when put together, make Scottie the woman that she is today. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I was stressed out and triggered by the concept of calling her and telling her that I wasn't rich and successful. I couldn't do it. I couldn't call her and tell her that I was a broke struggling artist who writes erotic stories about Black people. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That was just too much for me at the time. I felt like a loser. I wasn't married. I didn't have kids. She met me when I was 21. At close to 50, I wanted her to see me as a home-owning, conforming to societal rules but still creative, middle-class person. I was ashamed of not being rich. I was ashamed of being broke and unsuccessful. I didn't even want to tell her that I had gone to grad school because I didn't want her to have more of a reason to judge me and think I'm a failure in life. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For at least a full day before I called her, I stressed out over lying. I figured out my lie and rehearsed it. I was going to tell her was that I worked with my uncle and we had formed a business where he was a real estate agent and I designed and staged the houses. I had proposed that exact option to my uncle. I have spent YEARS watching nothing but home improvement shows morning till night. I used to pretend I had my own HGTV show and I may even had thought of a name of my pretend show. It was the best lie I could tell. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I called my girlfriend to help me calm my nerves and help me rehearse. I can almost feel the sensation now. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I called my old boss. I told my rehearsed lie, It went off smoothly. I told her I loved her. She did not respond or acknowledge me. She asked me if I was going to come to NY to visit any time soon and that she wanted to see me before she died. I lied and said maybe. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The freaky part is, that lie, after that phone call, the floodgates opened, I started, "normal lying." Normal lying is what what I refer to as the endless string of lies circumstances that recognize that everyone lies because they don't think of it as a lie. Lies do not have to be elaborate like the one I told, lies are a result of living in a society that makes us afraid of being judged. Lies are the way your brain processes your fear of being judged. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This society has brainwashed us to lie about everything because we live in constant fear of judgment from other people. That fear causes people to lie about things that they absolutely don't have to lie about. For about three years after that incident, I "normal" lied. Every conversation I had consisted of me not paying attention to what other people said but rather I was anticipating how they were going to judge me and what I could say to make myself look better to them. I lied about the stupidest shit possible. I wasn't abnormal, nothing was wrong with me. Everyone lies. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My grandkids made me stop lying again. I'm on year three of trying to speak truth to power. I have noticed that since 2021, I'm even more diligent about being honest and apologizing when I'm wrong. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I remember when I was married a million and two years ago, I told my husband, the one thing I hate most is liars. "If I can't trust you, we have no relationship." I told him that if he ever felt unhappy in our marriage, tell me BEFORE he cheated so that we could work on being better or I could walk away with dignity. He didn't. He cheated and he lied about it. He lied about everything. I thought, at the time, there was something wrong with him. I thought he had some sort of mental defect, like something had happened to him in his life to make him lie about having pizza for lunch when he had Wendy's. It feels like every fight that we had was because he lied. He lied about everything all the time. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I thought my ex-husband lied more than normal people.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Turns out, it's not that he lied more than normal people, turns out that I lie less than normal people. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's only just in the last few minutes that I just now realize he was normal. He was normal and lying is normal. People lie about everything because they fear being judged. I judged him as some sort of mental illness that made him lie all the time. My ah-ha moment! I was viewing him through a lens of being all good or all bad. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The last big, stressful rehearsed lie that I told, I told to my mother. Turns out she saw me in the Tuesday other dimensional meeting and she knew I was lying the entire time. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I cheated on my ex-husband. It was . . . maybe two or three days before our marriage ended in a blaze of adultery and pain. The guy was a UPS driver. It's possible he may have worked at the same hub as my husband. His name was Scott and he had a really small dick and he fucked me in the ass in the living room of our condo. Anyway, I never got a chance to tell my husband that I had cheated because the evidence of his years long affair came to light and my life fell apart. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We communicated, my ex husband and I, with one another a few years ago. I asked him why he had done some of the more hurtful things he'd done to me and his answer was, "I don't remember." He felt guilty. He thought I still hated him. I haven't hated him in seems like decades. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I weighed the option of telling him about my infidelity but there was no point after 30 years. I would have no problem confessing and apologizing to him if we ever meet face to face again. He doesn't need my apology, I don't feel plagued with guilt. I would simply like to restore the scales of truth to balance. I told him that I had forgiven him years and years ago. I did feel quite guilty for a long time because I cheated on him. It was my only time cheating. I never cheated on my boyfriend before that. Ever since that time, I've never cheated and I've always lived my my own edicts. (Hmmm, will future generations know what the word integrity means?)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">All four of the relationships I've had since my marriage ended have cheated on me. Ehhh, Emmanuel wasn't really a relationship. I suspect he cheated on his girlfriends to be with me but I'm not even sure about that. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White women! Your husbands are are low key disgusting. I have dominated white men for 21 years. I have no idea what percentage are married because white men lie. But the ones who admit they are married, the ones who tell me that their wives have NO clue what sorts of things really turn them on, they are the ones who are the most deviant men on the planet. They love to wallow in filth and depravity. They lie, they lie, they lie, they expect me to believe their lies, they lie and lie and lie some more. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My most memorable video call was with the married white dude who locked himself in the dog cage in chains and jerked off on the pile of dog turds that he had hidden the key in. The depths of his depravity repulsed me. He should not be allowed on the streets, he is a true danger to society. But he's more normal than the white man you see on TV, the one who never cheats and loves his wife. He presents as a deacon in the church, a pillar of the community type dude and as a great dad and father. He's not. Trust me when I say, he absolutely is not. He makes my flesh crawl.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That takes of lot. I am not repulsed by men telling me that they are pedophiles, rapists, serial killers, or any other violent/criminal/sexual act. I have learned that our society is much darker than we understand and I acknowledge that far more people are driven by immoral, illegal, unethical, disgusting, disturbing sex than certainly the media tells us. I've helped someone address their guilt over his pedophile compulsion. He is actually a sweet, wonderful man. I really like him. (Single). </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I don't see people as all good or all bad anymore. I look for people who are self-aware. Own your shit. That's healthier than the people who deny their shit. It's infinitely healthier than going out and degrading and castigating people who do things that don't even compare to what you do behind closed doors. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I have a pleasant and civil relationship with a serial killer who is single and there are 4 or 5 married white men with whom I speak that make my flesh crawl. To be honest, the single serial killer was far more honest and pleasant to talk to than the married white men who were probably serial killers as well and who just didn't tell me. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the spirit of full disclosure, I have masturbated to individuals whose behaviors, actions, and fantasies I find reprehensible but I'm aroused by their willingness to share with me their truth, to let me be their confidant. I'm not conflicted about it because I understand that far more people are dark than light. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I am sexually aroused by the truth. I find repulsive and repugnant white men who can confess and tell me their darkest thoughts and fantasies arousing because I'm aroused by white men's depravity. That's my fetish: White men's fuckedupness.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I've caught white men in lies and they SWEAR they are telling the truth, and eventually, the confess, sometimes after days of denial, and inevitably, in too many instances to count, after they've acknowledged that they had lied, after they confessed to lying and described to their misdeeds, in many instances they still go right back to asserting the same lie that they already confessed to. They believe their own lies. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The people who swear, "I'm not lying, I swear I'm not lying, What would I have to lie about?" They're lying. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm a pathological truther. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And, to all those people who say, "I always tell the truth too," I'm going to gently suggest that unless you can show me physical proof: a blog post, a link to a podcast, an article you wrote, show me something that proves that you have spent time contemplating the truth and it's impact on our lives, you're lying.</span></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19215166.post-75286837790766025672021-10-20T20:19:00.006-04:002021-10-20T20:19:56.473-04:00Pawns versus Rooks<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> Darwin wasn't right. Think about it. It's become increasingly more impossible for anyone to continue to believe that ancient humans were primitives who grunted and yelled at the sky when they made fire. It's the information age. You can get locked down in quarantine and watch hours and hours of documentaries about wonders of the world that are not taught in any American school system, and see evidence of advanced civilizations that existed and left ginormous monuments as evidence. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">You can go down the rabbit hole that is YouTube, watching endless videos that disclose the truth about places, peoples, and histories that have been erased, and intentionally destroyed and the miraculous evidence they left that they had evidence of the heavens and the stars and the planets, the constellations, there is evidence, physical proof that they possessed spiritual knowledge far advanced than any person has today. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is far too much evidence that indigenous people of color around the world have constructed miraculous, archeological, astrological wonders with such precision and accuracy that it is IMPOSSIBLE to accept the premise that they were intellectually inferior to today's minds. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I watched a documentary the other day about the Chaco Canyon. Chaco Canyon is here, in the United States, somewhere, out west is the best location I can give you. I can't even tell you when it was supposed to have been built. I can tell you this. It was built based on the stars. This entire compound, that was miles and miles of buildings, was built around the rotation of the Earth around the Sun, alignment with the moon and it's cycles, with constellations. The experts, the PhD's, people with the most knowledge on the ruins kept insisting that these were a primitive people, that they were hunter gatherers at best, and in many instances implying and stating outright that it was impossible for them to have built this compound with their limited and primitive knowledge. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">One expert, a gentleman insisted that it was impossible for these primitive people to have built this enormous compound because there was no evidence of waste anywhere. He said that if this compound was supposed to be the major hub of commerce as was being suggested, it would have had too much waste, and that there was no evidence of any waste, so therefore, it couldn't have been occupied by people, it couldn't have been a major center of commerce. His expertise was supposed to validate for the viewer that there just happens to be some rocks, okay, ruins of buildings, built in what is now a dessert, a long time ago, and so what that they happen to be in alignment with some hocus pocus stars or equinox stuff, that was just luck on their part and they were not smart or advanced at all. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now, my first and very lingering and nagging question since watching the video is, "What waste?" This gentleman was insistent that there would have been mounds and mounds of waste as evidence of people living, working, and thriving there. They didn't have plastic. They didn't have grocery stores or packaging. They didn't have diapers. They didn't have egg cartons or paper towels or milk cartons or disposable contact lenses. So what waste was Dr. whatever his name was, of whatever he was a doctor of, talking about? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If I can figure out that people living in a non capitalist society who are smart enough to build a compound around the rotation of the earth are smart enough not to destroy the planet with waste, why couldn't a man who is an expert in the field of paleontology or whatever? Any people with that advanced type of knowledge would be smart enough to respect the planet and recycle everything back to the earth, with love, as any intellectually advanced people would do. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Intellectually inferior people, now they would create plastics, and packaging, and toxins, and pollutants, and things that won't break down in nature. They would be so self-centered and misguided, that they would destroy the planet with waste. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Pyramids at Giza, the Mayan Pyramids, The Olmecs, the Incan engravings, dozens and dozens and god only knows how many more examples of advanced people, leaving evidence of their advanced technology and minds are there to be found. Imagine evidence of those advanced societies that have never been found, or those that have been found and then destroyed? What more sinister reason to destroy the Amazon than to destroy the evidence of advanced civilizations that were not European in an effort to perpetuate the lie that all advanced thought came from European minds? That's a win/win for whomever could pull that off. They destroy the evidence of advanced civilizations created by people of color, while robbing and looting their treasures, they kill the planet by destroying the rainforest, and they profit from everything that they steal from the rainforest, because they believe they OWN the planet. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">All those atrocities are committed by the white power structure, the puppet masters, not white people. The white person going to their job and living their miserable little life isn't the person responsible for divvying up ancient relics in huge underground warehouses in order to keep the public from knowing that people of color were intellectually superior in the past. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">White people are pawns in this game of manipulation as much as Black people are. They have been programmed to believe that no people of color made any contributions to society, that people of color are inferior. If white people, the white people who aren't pulling the strings, the white people who aren't benefitting from the global manipulation, if they stop believing that white people are the center of the Universe, the white power structure falls, the 1 percent of the 1% is defeated. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's the white power structure, the ones who rule the world who are pulling the strings to keep the belief that white people and Europe are the center of the intellectual Universe. The racism they created, the concept of whiteness, that white people are superior to everyone else on the planet, that lie gave birth to racism. The rich, white, power structure elites need white people to continue to believe that Europe is the center of all intellectual thought and that everyone else were savages. The top 1% needs white people to believe, "Yeah, human beings evolved from cave men and look at all the advancements whites made and look how savage you Mexicans and Africans are, you didn't invent anything. And what you did invent, it was primitive. You made it with stone tools and you were savages." </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If white people ever found it in their hearts, if they ever decided to acknowledge that just maybe the world won't stop spinning if they admit that it is possible that other people, people of color, EVEN Black people, might have been manipulated by the powers that be, that the white power structure is pitting us against one another in their need for power. If white people accept the concept that people of color that Black people are not inferior, that slavery, that inaccess to and lack of education created the PERCEPTION that Blacks are inferior. If white people can accept and believe that concerted efforts by the controlling powers that be have manipulated us all, , that simple, if white people can say that we have ALL been manipulated, us versus them becomes we, white versus Black becomes the righteous against the evil, and we destroy the Matrix. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Humans used to be all-knowing. Humans used to be all-powerful. There was a concerted effort by the evil power structure to create a reality where humans are born into a world where they are cut off from their connection to their divinity, their understanding that they are God in human form. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We are not in the smartest time in history. We are disconnected from our true power. Doesn't it make more sense to believe that the ancient Egyptians made the pyramids with sound waves and electromagnetic psychic transportation powers (forgive my lack of sci-fi lingo) than to suggest ancient Egyptians made the pyramids with a reed of papyrus, a chisel, and pure muscle? The hatred of Blackness, the hatred of Black people makes it impossible for some white people to accept that maybe there was a hidden agenda by someone to obscure the fact that we are all equals. Maybe all human beings are equals and maybe some evil, greedy forces manipulated all of us to make us forget that we are all the same energy, from the same source. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Does that mean I'm saying that Creationism is right? No. But, there is more truth to the bible than we know but it's been hidden by magick and allegory. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ultimately, the truth is far more complex than we understand. We are all pawns in this game. We are all victims of a grand scheme, much bigger, more sinister, pitting black against white, when it should be pawns against the rooks. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>AfroerotiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17426843368352368800noreply@blogger.com0