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?”
