Black New World Order-Lee

Black New World Order-Lee

This is the most important story I've ever written. 

Be cautioned it can't be described as an erotic story, it's so much more than that.  

I recommend listening to it with a Read Aloud app when possible.  

Feel free to share if you feel moved to do.  

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. 

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. 

 

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. 

 

This love story is the first . . . and the last chapter in our story. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.   

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.

 

Fate had different plans for Lee. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.”

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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 In Loving Color 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.

 

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 In Loving Color collection.  Everything was gorgeous.

 

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.

 

The whole scene looked soooo comfortable that Marvin wanted to curl up in one of the chairs and read a book, and other than In Loving Color, 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 In Loving Color. 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.

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.” 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“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.’”

 

“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.” 

 

 “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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“Wait, you made it?  You make wine?”  The look on his face was so very typical of new members of the family. 

 

“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 . . .”

 

“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. 

 

“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.”   

 

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.

 

Raising his glass, Marvin said, “Cheers.”

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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.   

 

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.”

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

With the dishwasher loaded, Lee sat next to Marvin on the sofa.  He had been flipping through the pages of one of the auxiliary In Loving Color 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. 

 

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 In Loving Color 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.”

 

“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.”

 

“No, no, go on, please,” Lee said.  I absolutely adore hearing people talk about their In Loving Color 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.” 

 

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. 

 

Marvin LOVED talking about In Loving Color.  He was an In Loving Color 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.’”

 

“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.”

 

“Lucky guy,” Lee added.

 

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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“Anyway, I devoured all the stories at that point.  I was like a scholar; I could have gotten my PhD in In Loving Color.  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 In Loving Color site, you can read longer, more detailed versions of the stories. I couldn’t get there fast enough. I read every story.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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 In Loving Color. 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.”

 

“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.”

 

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.

 

“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. 

 

“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.” 

 

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.” 

 

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.” 

 

“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.”  

 

“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.”

 

“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?”

 

“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?” 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.” 

 

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.”

 

Lee added, “You look really great in them, too, if you don’t mind me saying.” 

 

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.

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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.

 

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.”   

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

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.

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“That’s deep,” Marvin interjected, “that’s dope as fuck.”  

 

“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.”

 

“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.

 

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.   

 

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.  

 

“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?”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

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 In Loving Color, 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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

Marvin said, “You say we an awful lot.  Sorry. Go on.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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 In Loving Color, 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.”

 

In that moment, in that split second, Marven felt the gravity of destiny consuming him. 

 

“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.” 

 

They both nodded in agreement.

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

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?”

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.”

 

“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.”

 

Lee added, “Turns out, we were already the pod people.”  They both shared a moment of melancholy for the past.

 

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!” 

 

“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.”

 

“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?” 

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”  

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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. 

 

“No, no.  You’re doing great.  Take your time.  It will come to you,” Lee offered his support.

 

“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?”

 

“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.”

 

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. 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”  

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

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.

 

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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

Marvin had to take a minute to let all that sink in. 

 

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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

Marvin reached for another joint and Lee lit it for him.  He needed it to help him expand his consciousness. 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

Without missing a beat, Marvin said, “my Love is blind, can’t you see my desire.” 

 

Lee poked fun at him, “Yeah, don’t be too proud of yourself.  I set that one up for you.”

 

“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.” 

 

Marvin stopped him.  “Wait! I don’t  understand. What do you mean you had put your money on whiteness?”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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?”

 

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.”

 

“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.”   

 

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. 

 

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.

 

“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.” 

 

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.”

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

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’.”

 

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.” 

 

“Whoa!  How did she take it? That had to be wild.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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. 

 

“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.” 

 

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.

 

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.

 

“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.”  

 

“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.

 

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. 

 

“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.”

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.    

 

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. 

 

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.   

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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?” 

 

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.

 

Marvin looked up at Lee in disbelief. The number of options overwhelmed him.

 

“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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

“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. 

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be I guess.”  He started to take off his T-shirt and Lee stopped him. 

 

“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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“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.” 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“Aren’t you going to get undressed, too?  I mean, I don’t want your pants to get wet.”

 

“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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“Hey,” Marvin said, “I have a question.  How?  How did you get to be soooo . . . like this? Sooo, not like regular white men?”

 

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.” 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

From head to toe, Lee bathed Marvin in silence, only occasionally humming along to a song that played in the background. 

 

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. 

 

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.” 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“Stop. I mean, can you stop?” Marvin sat up. 

 

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. 

 

Lee grabbed a towel, dried off his hands, and sat back on his heels.  “Is everything alright?”  He was genuinely concerned and confused. 

 

“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.” 

 

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. 

 

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.”

 

“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.”

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“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.”

 

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.

 

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!’”

 

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. 

 

“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.”

 

“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?”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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 In Loving Color 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. 

 

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.”

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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!”

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

She didn’t.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

“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.” 

 

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.

 

“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!”

 

“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?”

 

Lee paused.  His normal exposition and honesty were being challenged. “Scottie told me.” 

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

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.”

 

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?”

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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. 

 

“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.”

 

Lee felt empowered to share his story. 

 

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!” 

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.

 

“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.”

 

“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. 

 

“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.” 

 

“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?’”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“Let me make sure I understand. Are you saying that you were a pedophile? Are a pedophile? Yo, I really need that question answered.” 

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“Woah. That’s deep.”  Marvin exhaled a deep breath.  “I hate to keep going back to In Loving Color 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.”

 

“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.”

 

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. 

 

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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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 In Loving Color. It really gave me reason to believe that I could find someone to love me, the real me.”

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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 In Loving Color, 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.”

 

“See there! You Black!  You sound Black. That Blackness keeps peeking through.” 

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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?” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.’” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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 In Loving Color 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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“Day four, with the aphrodisiacs in our blood streams, Scottie said that all the men who were going to be partaking in In Loving Color 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!” 

 

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?” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.   

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“Next, she informs Reggie, he’s Michael in the book, in . . . in . . .”

 

“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.

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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?” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.   

 

“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.’” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“Then Scottie says, ‘OK, but the question I asked was what was his friend’s name?’”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”  

 

“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.”    

 

“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.” 

 

“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?”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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?”

 

Marvin was snapped out of his trance when he heard his name. “Wait, were you talking about me, or the story?” 

 

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

 

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?

 

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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

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.”

 

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.”

 

“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.’”

 

“‘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.”

 

“And, Lee, how did it make me feel listening to those white men?”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“She the posed the single most important question I had ever been asked, ‘What’s your truth, Lee?’”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”  

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

Marvin laughed out loud. “See? All that? That was your Blackness coming out. That right there was the exact opposite of whiteness.”    

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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?”

 

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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

Lee stopped him.  “You don’t have to go anywhere.  Not if you don’t want to.” 

 

Marvin’s dick jumped.  “Are you saying . . . ?”

 

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. 

 

“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.” 

 

That was all the invitation Lee needed.  He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. 

 

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 In Loving Color 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.” 

 

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 . . .” 

 

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 In Loving Color 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. 

 

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. 

 

“Good morning!  Did you sleep well?”  Lee had been awake for only a few minutes. 

 

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.”

 

“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. 

 

“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.”

 

“King, you meet Goddesses every day.  You came from a Goddess.”

 

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. 

 

Marvin said, this time with confidence and conviction, “Thirsty?  I can quench your desires.”

 

Lee sprang to life.  “Come on, let’s go!”

 

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. 

 

“Man, if you keep playing around, me and you gonna miss breakfast, the park, everything. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

“Uhmmm, I’m going to need a little privacy so I’m going to need you to stop. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.  

 

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. 

 

As he started to ascend the stairs, Marvin said, “Hey!”

 

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. 

 

Marvin said, “OK, I have been wanting to do that since you opened the door. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

Lee made his way up the stairs, albeit on unsteady legs, with Marvin close behind. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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. 

 

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 In Loving Color. 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 In Loving Color story, but he was doing it in real life. 

 

“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.” 

 

“And she did a damn good job of that,” Marvin felt like he had to add that part.

 

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.”

 

“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?’”

 

“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.” 

 

“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?” 

 

“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.” 

 

“I remember saying to Scottie, ‘Thank you for this opportunity and I’ll do my best.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“God damn! You broke that shit down.”

 

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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“OK, and I’m going to guess she wanted nothing to do with that.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

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.”

 

“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?”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“What happened in that cabin because I find you singularly unique in your perspectives on race for a white man?” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.’”

 

“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.” 

 

He took another sip of water and collected himself. 

 

“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.” 

 

“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!’” 

 

“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.’

 

“’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.” 

 

“She says, very calmly, ‘Switch!’ and my dick and my whiteness are at peak arousal.’” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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.

 

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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”  

 

“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.

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.”  

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”   

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.’” 

 

“My entire identity, the pretense of my whiteness, the walls of Jericho were crumbling before my eyes.”   

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

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 In Loving Color, 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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

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.”

 

“Ohhhh, that’s what I wanted to ask you.  What happened when she took her heroic dose?”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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 . . .”

 

“Talk about a fucking mic drop.  I couldn’t say shit.” 

 

“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.”

 

“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.

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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 . . .” 

 

“. . . . 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?” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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.”

 

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.” 

 

“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.” 

 

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. 

 

“Yo,” the voice on the phone said, “Lee’s legit.  He can hook you up.”  Marvin seemed to be processing everything. 

 

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.”

 

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.”  

 

Janquil responded, “Awwww, I hope y’all come.  Love you.”

 

Lee said, “Love you, too,” and he hung up. 

 

Right before the call got disconnected, Janquil could be heard saying, “Wait! Is this THE Marvin?

 

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?” 

 

“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.”  

 

“I need to get me some Margarita Mascara mushrooms.” 

 

“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.”

 

“We can . . . we can what? What?” 

 

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.”

 

“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.”

 

“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.”  

 

“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.” 

 

“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!” 

 

“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.” 

 

“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. 

 

“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.”

 

“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.

 

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?” 

 

Lee opened a drawer on the nightstand.  He pulled out a book, it looked like it could have been a mockup of an In Loving Color coffee table book. He held it close for a minute. 

 

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. 

 

“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.”

 

“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. 

 

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.  

 

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.” 

 

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. 

 

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.

 

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. 

 

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?”