Showing posts with label SOAL Speaks. Show all posts

Did Afropunk sellout? 2018 Recap

Captured by photographer of The Daily Beast, edited by missusmonroe
Whew. What an intro.
Now you all, many of y'all anyway, have 'known' me since prior to me ever stepping feet on AP Brooklyn's grounds but wanting desperately to (actually I don't think anybody but Sade and my sister really ever knew I wanted to), to my first...experience up until right now, my third go-around. I would never call myself an expert but I am very good at observing, good enough to proclaim Afropunk has certainly changed. It had certainly changed prior to my first attendance and up until now it has also grown new heads. Heads so big it just might block me from attending next year
~if you didn't get that, continue below and you hopefully will get understanding~

captured by Brian Winston Fraser, edited by missusmonroe

Let me first delve into my rollercoaster this year. I love Afropunk for the fashion, the collectiveness, the resistance and rebellion, the antics, the love, the lack of judgement. I started attending a few years after they began charging natives, which of course changed the energy of the festival in and of itself, that in which I am positive of. I never felt a yearning to attend because of the music or anything related to punk realness lol blackness, collectives, and the vibe is all I'd wanted to experience. It wasn't until I first attended that I saw the manner in which fashion played. It was a serious ordeal. I always put something together whenever I attend events and I love festival get-ups so my first year I indeed had something that salvaged itself together but I was clueless to the swarm of photographers and industry heads that would be in attendance. I was solely thinking naked yet fest, lol due to the heat and well..me being me. This time around I actually planned my looks and everything in a relatively timely manner. I swear! I know we know my usual procrastination..honestly it's not even procrastination I just get inspiration when I do and you can't rush that shit. You just can't. So I let it happen when it does. The issue with that is always with the fucking mailman. We cannot seem to coordinate my inspiration with snail.. in fact express mail. Something always goes wrong.

Captured by photographer of The Daily News, edited by missusmonroe

Captured by Novakane, edited by missusmonroe

Now how long have I been waiting to whip out some chaps?? For maybe two years now. Last year they were a bitch to find, the usual when it comes to me thinking of an idea and waiting for someone to commercialize it so it can be more accessible. *cue just fully design already, I know I know* This year was a bit easier to find them and no, I did not plan for this damn moo song to come out, it just so happened to coincide and you can only guess how many times I was moo'd at.
I've known I wanted chaps, I knew I wanted my ass to hang ~I squatted for times like this bitch~ and I knew I wanted a crystal thong. What else was supposed to happen was an LV tube top and for day 2... well just a whole different look. The Chanel top was to have a bit more structure with some Chanel lining that didn't come in time alongside with a loin cloth style skirt... none of which happened. Because none of which came in time besides from the skirt material and the Chanel material.

Captured by Novakane, edited by missusmonroe
I didn't want to waste the top so I decided to go ahead with it, the skirt on the other hand I had to run around and find the material from my neighborhood stores, next deciding to pair a crystal thong for a much needed pop as well as some cute consistency with my weekend looks. When I tell you I kept thinking my Sunday look wasn't especially up to par because I knew how I wanted it to look, it brought me to some relative points. Afropunk lost some of its flair. Afropunk is definitely some weird costume contest fully and completely now. The judgement-free zone is definitely lost within the ever-growing crowd.

Captured by Novakane, edited by missusmonroe
I say it's some weird costume contest because..well it is. That was my thought my first year going and even though it was cool to see, it's almost as if you just know people were thinking "which look will get me the most attention?" Especially some male looks.. I'm sorry, I'm tired of seeing the same lazy outfit repetition. The platforms, the halo locs, bleached beards. Okay, we get it. For the women, it's like what's the most over-played thing out right now and how can I incorporate that into my hair? Sunflowers, sunflowers, toss some fruit in, and more sunflowers. It's a big ass contest on who can garner the most attention. And I get it, it's exciting and some may think I played very well into the world as well. *shrug* I do these seemingly off-the-wall looks a lot, somehow incorporating these sort of pieces into a party outfit or a beach look and etc, and I was stressing over some things because of how I love presentation and completion; as someone who styles, if I have an idea in my head I want it to play out exactly as planned. Or else I feel as though I'm competing with my ideas and will always be in a "what if" or "if only" state of mind.

Captured by photographer of The Daily Beast, edited by missusmonroe


The flair this year was lost through multiple facets. Before, AP used to really encourage vendors and have apparent native footprints throughout the weekend. Especially when, if we're being honest, the festival wouldn't be as big if it wasn't for Brooklyn natives, if it wasn't for people of color, if it wasn't for blackness being cool. period. The black people collecting together to display various forms of fashion, cool. The black people dancing and partying to beats, drums, guitars, cool. The black people doing all of this and singing and painting and fighting oppression, racism, bigotry, and the white greedy hand...oops. All of this wrapped into a 'come as you are' fest was fucking cool. It's a real bitch and hassle to be able to vend now. There's this official application, a waitlist, a multiple grand fee.. all for starting last year the acceptance of less vendors and a redesign if you will, of the usual layout. Squeeze as much vendor space close together as you can, more room for bars and roped off food places *cue side-eye on the reasoning for that* 
This year I didn't even see the banners banning racism, homophobia, etc etc. Some of those important staples and seemingly morals and not selling points, lost. Especially when a VIP goer gets kicked out of the VIP lounge for sporting a tee calling Afropunk out on selling out to white consumerism.. oops again I might add. I've seen fucking worse and way more blunt but it seems to be an issue when we're now critiquing the white organizers? Because we do know who is actually running the show now correct?
*throws Hennessy byke every so blackly*

captured by Brian Winston Fraser, edited by missusmonroe

The first year I attended Afropunk I was a bit nervous, more so because I didn't know what to expect. I was helping a nonentity vend and I just knew it was a big event but I didn't know what actually went on? I did a let's be real recap about it here as well, detailing what y'all can't see from the damn pics cause it's real nitty-gritty out there. Yet, I felt so oddly embraced. That affirmed my love for New York many moons ago. Nobody cared, come as you are, you're good. Looking back on my get-up, I even didn't love it at the time because of course outfit pieces didn't come when they should've so I had to run around and make do as usual, but everybody ate that shit up lol just didn't...judge. That's lost. As Afropunk gets more commercial and acquires more mainstream artists to their stages comes more attendees there for the motion of it all but not the spirit. It's losing its authenticity. 
Honestly, that may already be lost.

captured by Brian Winston Fraser, edited by missusmonroe

captured by @queendom_heights (L),  Brian Winston Fraser (R), edited by missusmonroe

As the internet crucified an attendee who was literally the most pleasant person around and was there to live his damn life, I just shook my head cause that warm spirit really is gone. It's not for everyone to have or understand, but those who truly fuck with the intention of the event and the message of it get it and should in actuality be paying it forward. If you volunteered this year you could only get one ticket. As in took time out and helped "progress" their "initiatives" and met the requirements for total points, your cap was one GA ticket for one day of your choice. laughoutloud, what? Actually why, so you'd be somewhat forced to give money to them someway somehow even if you already contributed work? One of the ways of "volunteering" was a monetary donation (money). You are in fact kidding, right? A donation to who and to what exactly?

captured by Brian Winston Fraser, edited by missusmonroe

Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed myself and had a great time meeting new spirits who I genuinely fucked with. It's just sad to see a longstanding conscious event go south. And let's not even talk about the fake photographers and "artists" looking for clout for their lack of talent. Let's not start.

What are you all's thoughts? Should the white money hand be allowed to grapple on and continue to try and make a flip on culture? Do you really think there was another side to that question? While y'all meditate on that enjoy some flicks from photographers I actually fuck with.

xxoo missusmonroe



Captured by Novakane (L) Luiz Moreira (R), edited by missusmonroe

small booties matter with Ebonee Davis

Captured by @fl.visuals

captured by Brian Winston Fraser, edited by missusmonroe

Damage: A Black Woman's History

Black History Month is never over. There is no such thing as a month for us, there is a such thing; however, as a few days for the remainder of you. As the month of February wrapped up though I began to weigh heavily different things that are "worth it" to me and I came across a slew of spoken word ~bro I love me some words spokennnn if ya'didn't know~ and a question remained in my head:

90's/In Living Color inspired outfit: Thrifted everything but eBay glasses, Missguided boots

why don't I protect my peace?

I know my peace exists. I also know I have recently come to rediscover it. I know that it is one of the most, if not the most, valuable jewels on this here Earth. I know that it is a coveted item like that new Gucci Gucci 20infinity y'all be slaving. I know that it is a direct door to my happy and a direct reflection of my mental health. I know that it can be shaken but not easily stirred. And I also know that it is a badass bitch who doesn't take no shit from any intruder tracking in mud. okay.

I also know that I have done an extremely poor job of protecting it.
I flaunt my peace because that is an uncontrollable thing, it is literally the light behind my smile and the cute ass twinkle in my biggie-smalls eyes. I am not careless with it, read carefully because this is important, but I am not exactly selfish with it either. Why am I not selfish, down-right stingy, with the most important thing in this here world and there outerworldliness. As black women we need to protect our shit. We run around chasing everybody and everything attempting to fix situations because in turn that is where we derive our value from. Our source of belonging and need is from what we bring to others, what fixin' can we bring to the table, and then we look internally and are surprised that we in actuality are not happy with ourselves because we look around and see we in actuality don't have much for ourselves, we don't have much to call our own ~as far as receivables go~. And certainly even less when we speak of trye tangibility. Many cannot seem to find that value within themselves when it disincludes anothers' woes..

Where's your peace?

xxoo missusmonroe

22 reasons

I think I've been avoiding this.


Fuck it, yes I have been running away. I blamed it on writer's block...and yes I obviously have a blockage but I also call bullshit. I blamed it on not having enough time, but I still don't have enough of that and I probably never will so what else is new. I've started this post many times before, once even before my last post, another mid summer, another probably early September and at least two more times before I am here today. And I'm still not sure if I'm going to end up saying anything at all, which has definitely been a major deterrent.

I have always wanted this blog to as open and honest as I am, even more so because that is just what's organic to me. And one thing I hate is a pretend-pretend blog or story that makes life and situations appear to be so dandy when they just honestly are not most of the time. However, as open and transparent as I am, I can also be very very private and it's an odd combination but somehow it makes up ya girl right here *fat Ye shrug*
I know it's because people take your openness and craft it into a weakness, then use said weakness as ammunition to bring you down to whatever low lying fruit they're dwelling in that I hesitate and have been hesitating. I'm not an idiot; I won't let my life's frictions, or triumphs for that matter, be made into a spiteful  twitter thread or groupme topic. I've been battling with this; my writing is similar to a diary to me, just far more creative, and I want to just express some shitty shit sometimes in the best way I know will resound in my spirit. It's crazy.. for some time I thought I just wasn't feeling. Like et all. But knowing the amount of feels I carry, that was as clear as day on the verge of denial.

"I think I'm not too sure how I can express everything" started me off the last time I attempted. "I don't even know where to start. In a second I literally feel the weight of the world and life literally crumbling around me, then in the next moment I've convinced myself everything is fine, that it's all okay. A really eerie calm overtakes me that I literally feel in my bones is crazy. On the verge of tears nearly daily and emotionless simultaneously." Two days later I was so removed from my woeful paragraphs that it didn't feel just to go through with a post. I want to say I was in a really different place, but I wasn't. I'm not there right at this moment, I've sort of climbed over a hill and am continuing to move forward but it's one of those hills where you see another slope not too far away. Looming over your shoulder is your not-so-distant past and taunting you is your ominous future. 

Even in just typing this I'm so over myself. One second I'm frantic, an emoting disarray then the next I'm calling myself dramatic and refusing to listen to my damn self.

I'm just in such a weird standstill in life right now, not too long ago things were diving downwards, headfirst. Godspeed. Now it's a wonderful 360 but even upwards and moving forward comes with drawbacks, unhappiness and dissatisfaction. Yet still. 

 Today I turned 22; I had a pretty good weekend leading up to it, I have so many posts to catch up on honestly. My history with birthdays..  I’ve had pretty rocky birthdays since ever, crazy enough because I absolutely love birthdays. I feel like I say this every year and by the time it gets to my next earth strong niggas either forget or reflect how much I’m the only one who cares. Either or. It’s literally always a thing where I never feel like anyone besides me gives a shit, unless it's some full-blown escapade that me alone plans and takes the full weight of, which would be just fine if I didn’t try to make others feel as special as possible on their day. So it sucks. It sucks ass. This year..a little different in that regard but not by a milestone. The day started off horribly, as much as I tried to look at it in a positive light, but did end drunk so there’s in fact an upside. I ended up feeling some special and appreciation later but there was that really sensi part of the day where, as cliche and as much as I tried avoiding it, I felt no where at all. Which is crazy because I’ve literally accomplished so much and have made ways out of no way this year like no other. But when that dark cloud comes over your shoulder, it is so hard to avoid it.

 The wilder part is just how much I was agreeing with my kicking myself in the ass.. I just want so much more and it’s shocking me because I’ve always had goals but I’ve also always been a relatively content person. I’m not super crazy competitive and I try to compare my accomplishments to my accomplishments, not yours or hers. I’m not sure what all those thoughts I had for hours means or what all those shitty emotions meant either, and why I had to feel them at that moment on that day. I did and it's a part of life, my reality, and everyday thoughts and as much as I feel like running in the opposite direction of them, I've done so many things right why must I feel this way yadda yadda, I have to face them headon.

 I got this great new opportunity of growth that I'm excited about and it's challenging me to meet even more expectations of myself and I was in an onboarding orientation where all week, the seminars and informationals had been short of drowse inducing, no matter how interesting and addictive cups of lates with double espresso and shit inducing Belvita, it's just too *** early in the morning. This one particular session was focused on how to survive within the company: immediate intrigue. The VP was comparing so many lessons to obscure things I would've sworn he was a guest pastor at Alfred Street; one thing in particular he said while comparing life and survival to a deathly white-water rafting trip he took was that in the midst of chaos you would like to paddle in the opposite direction. This however will lead to the water grasping your control; instead, don't hesitate and steer yourself head-on into chaos and take control yourself. I'm paraphrasing but the idea has stuck with me ever since.

 This isn't one of those posts with pictures or a happy conclusion. The intriguing part of a blog is you get to be with me along every ride (well those that I share, honestly) and you get to see that in real life, each day or lull doesn't end with a "but all is well now, I learned and I'm happy!" Sometimes it's just, "hey man, this is where I am right now", "not positive which direction life is going to move me next" or a "well shit..at least I'm alive" and that just has to be okay. The cool thing is a lot of us are at this same age, this same millennial generation, these similar life points/realizations and feelings so we can actually remotely relate. I'm just actually speaking up through the life is perfect transitioning adulting silence. I guess that's what the purpose of this was and I couldn't see it until it was done because its purpose wasn't for me.

 xxoo missusmonroe

fro styling

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This was a pretty exceptional day. For no reason in particular besides from these exceptional shots.


Well, okay I'd have to be lying if I said other great things didn't happen, they were just exuded in these pictorials. It was one of those random, fleeting, warm-ish days here in the DMV and I took great advantage of it, yes I did. See, I'd been plotting on wearing this outfit for a little bit now, since the beginning on Fall when I'd received this dress from Zara. Since my early high school years I just cannot stay away from pairing sweaters/long tops with the accordion of long skirts or the lace of a maxi dress. The two go hand-in-hand in my eyes, automatically. I had difficulty busting it out because around the time I got it, it was beginning to be too chilly to show it off, there were multiple layers encompassing it but honestly, not enough to keep someone warm. Especially with this v-neck, okay?


For me, after getting these shoes at a Beacon's I already knew they would really accent this outfit. The mere essence of it just correlated in my eyes. I didn't really have a warm enough day and I knew I could not really save it for Spring because, it wasn't a rainy day type of thing, this called for sunny, clear skies, slight wind; partly cloudy maybe. But that was really pushing it. Then I was given this mediocre in temperature but lit, the sun was just shining, day and it was pretty obvious it would just have to do.

I hesitated at first because of my fro. I only did this because without the jacket, which is how I'd initially planned on wearing it, it looked a little too ho-bo vibes, not what I was looking for today. (plus for some reason the socks were just off at a lot of angles) It also would make me look like a lollipop in my mind, as I imagined the straight silhouette of the sweater and dress combo and the upward reach of my hair... I wasn't sure if I wanted that. In actuality, I was sure I did not want that. Fro-styling can be so weird sometimes cause I almost feel like you have to look "extra" or overcompensate in order to not look that drab unkempt, and y'all know there's a cool unkempt and that homeless-aspiring-for-yeezy-season unkempt. It's either your hair has to look big and styled somehow to wear "normal clothes" (it has to look purposeful is the term really) or you overcompensate your fit, cue extra, cause of your fro. Which really stems from that "you about to go get your hair done?" history that black women have when they're just wearing their roots, "her hair ain't never done", similarly.

What does having your hair 'done' look like?
xxoo missusmonroe

Thrifted sweater, Zara dress, thrifted shoes, UO socks

Healing. You penciled that in?


Let's approach the elephant in the room. I know many of us are hurting in various different ways, some specific to us and our circumstance and some unbeknownst to you completely. I also think many of us are walking around with the weight of the world, those before us, and those before them. The incredible amount of people meandering this earth with sicknesses and distraught.. We're simply going through so much and are just always on the go. You'll be lucky if you've taken time out to even identify your issues. Fucking blessed to be able to address them. And alcohol them down and gauze 'em up? Other worldly.


It's laughable but it's entirely true. There's hardly time in the day to sit and think to yourself, if you're in school or working, without your thoughts interrupted with the urgency that you should be doing something else. Or when you are thinking, it's because someone tiered above you told you to, so now you're thinking on your time for someone else. If there's hardly a moment to breathe for yourself, do you imagine you have actually healed from all the wounds you've accumulated?


Ever had a conversation of privilege? If you're a POC I imagine you know what I mean, if you're not, you may not recognize this word at all *cue Joanne Prada ~ don't know what that is...neverrr uhm, felt that ~* Well it exists. It actually comes in any form you can possibly think of and self-identity is certainly one. Healing? Bet your bottom dollar; just package that and wrap it right in the privilege box.


This all goes to say the majority of us haven't had that time to heal. To forgive. To correctly and effectively move on. To be happy again. So where's your self love and how can you expect to exude anything other than bitterness and false pretenses? I guess what I'm really trying to get at is when seeing all this destruction and mayhem in your life and wondering why nothing is going right, when dis-aggregating, look for the first place you need healing. You have chaotic relationships, you and others just seem to always bump heads and you can't seem to understand why they act the way they do? Check your privilege. Not everyone has had the same recovery as you, even though you may never see it as a luxury.

get yo' healing on. and love yourself, even though that's milestones of easier said than done.

xxoo missusmonroe

P.S. I don't know if I've ever went into my spiels about wanting finger waves but it's a look I've always adored. When I cut my hair almost two years ago now, it literally grew too fast for me to do so! Everyone seems to love the shorter look better on me.. but it was literally the inspiration for this palette and this combo. It'll probably be the root to my future madness as well *continues to rub hands like birdman*

SOAL Speaks: Queen Sandra, I'm sorry

You know when your emotions are so strong, you can't even pinpoint what they are? When you're so enraged your body's only reactions are bone-numbing tremors or hot, angry, streaming tears, eventually reduced to quivering sobs? I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I want everyone to hear how much sorrow I'm feeling, but most importantly I want for everyone to remember the name of this woman who had her entire life ahead of her. Before I get into yet another injustice, I want to address my black people:

I am disgusted. I've been following this story for a little bit now, as soon as I'd caught sight of it, I knew it was important and that it was my responsibility to know all the details and how to DO something. Recently, I am just seeing many people begin to discuss the tragedy and as grateful as I am that it wasn't ignored completely, why did it take so long to catch your attention? Because everybody else on your TL was suddenly talking about it? To keep up with your 'socially aware' camouflage? What exactly was occupying your time, Meek's album, Future's release or the Meek beef with Drake? Or would the correct answer be D, all of the above? DO SOMETHING about a world that won't rest until we are either extinct or too vacuous to distinguish them from actual shit, but before anything WAKE THEM UP. Educate yourself on these issues so you actually sound like you have some intelligence when you speak on it. During the Civil Rights era blacks fought relentlessly: they got up, marched, went as far as moving to worse areas to be apart of the CHANGE. They died for their beliefs. All of that resilience got them and subsequently us somewhere. Some white people are laughing at us, they're saying the police is in the right; realize anything that occurs and does not affect them, they will always find a way to defend it. The cop pulled her from the car but yet he was only doing his job, if she had only complied.. and with all of our abundant precedents you truly believe she would have walked away? NO forget all of that utter and complete nonsense. There is always something we did wrong. There is never justice for us. Justice for white people is seen as justice for everyone.

#Sayhername: I just know Sandra Bland did not commit suicide. She might have deserved a ticket for failing to signal even though the police care purposely made a U-turn then came barreling down the street towards her, but because she did not feel as though she deserved a ticket does not mean the subsequent events were justified, lawful, and freaking humane. I cannot sit here and watch these killing sprees, then hashtag Black Lives Matter! on IG or retweet an article post, sit back and be satisfied with all of my efforts and hard work, and then go back to slaving over the brainwashing media we are being fed. Another girl was found in her jail cell "hung" with bedsheets after being booked for stealing a cell phone. #Sayhername: Kindra Darnell. This is what I call mass murder. What I have to say is they killed this woman. They took "mug shots" of a woman who was deceased. They carelessly threw her to the ground. This is deeply rooted, don't tell me racism died out. It has taken on different forms and by taking no action, we are accepting of it.

I refuse to sit and wait. I want to know what really happened. Who changed the paper work? Who gave them the right to empower themselves this way, by taking away someone else's? Click here if you want real answers, if you're tired of sitting around waiting for justice. Rest in Power, as they're saying, to a lost but never forgotten BLACK queen who deserved not a damn thing she was dealt.

xxoo missusmonroe

How can you tell me?

Ankara co-ord designed by me

As I seem to continue to hear crazy and crazier news almost daily now, I've been brought back to a conversation my mother and I had many moons ago. Well, it wasn't really too much of a conversation as much as it was a demand. There was a time where I was constantly upset and generally sad, some of you faithful readers may know of it because honestly it wasn't too long ago. My mom would ask me why I'm not smiling as much as I used to and I'd respond "why should I be smiling? Why should I smile when I have nothing to be smiling about?" 

I just specifically remember her telling me to be happy. How can one just be happy, I'd think incredulously. You either were happy or not, no? Muddled up in more commands was her saying no, there is a choice. It has recently become clearer what she meant. Yes, happiness can come upon you but you also can choose. It may be hard to imagine from post after post and the stories I tell but there was a time where I wouldn't be very sad at all. I naturally always have a smile on my face and I never really had anything I thought was worth wasting that much energy worrying about and being upset over. Things changed very quickly, clearly, but as I attempt to ease back into the mindset of my earlier years, I've come to realize a lot. I've never enjoyed moping, I actually hate complaining, I like trying to fix things on my own, I naturally don't dwell on anything even if it made me furious two minutes ago, I love being happy and receiving love, but most importantly there's always a choice.

Choose happiness.

xxoo missusmonroe

WOES

H&M top (from Sade!), Missguided pants, can't remember where I got my shoes but they're from the UK

And no I don't mean a recent Drake song, I mean the real shit. Y'all know I've been going through some meaningful lows and trying to keep my head up, but it seemed as though every time I had enough room to breathe another current would swoop me back down... I know life is filled with disappointments I'm just really tired of them. A close friend told me today of a verse she read discussing how this is all apart of the perfect plan God has for me. A little unimaginable that all the hardships I'm withstanding is apart of something perfect. Not just anything really, my life. I know everything happens for a certain reason, nothing just randomly occurs even though it seems that way. While it's happening though, what a hard concept that is to grasp. All you can think about are the negatives, the disappointments, the lows, and especially the woes. I'm opening my eyes to the otherwise. I've always been really good at moving on and here is where I use it to fuel me. I'm already on to new adventures, I should celebrate my achievements, no matter how minuscule they may seem.

In other news, I'm doing a lot more things that are making me happy. Genuinely. I'm also filming more and finding new outlets of expression. Reflecting. Loving. A change is way overdue. 

"Take me deeper than my feet could wander."

xxoo missusmonroe

SOAL Speaks: BLACK LIVES > WHITE FEELINGS

Injustices are something I do not take lightly. My brothers and sisters are being left in the streets to rot, blood seeping into the concrete, wrongly charged with crime after crime, attacked, shot, choked for misdemeanors... and what? I'm being told to shut the hell up basically, be grateful it's not me, "all lives matter", race is not playing a part in anything, crimes against my skin is not racists it's only hatred... AS IF I AM AN IDIOT. I am waiting for the day each race will be treated equally for the same crime. They day you can see we are not hateful, we sympathize with you the rare times you are massacred, we open our arms to welcome you, vision blind to the color of your skin. But what is the outcome? A killing spree of our people in one of the most sacred and vulnerable places of all. A stab in the back. Every time. I am not Bree, I did not climb up the flagpole and remove the confederate flag but that does not mean my opinions do not matter or my actions carry less weight. I am tired of my race, time and time again, being treated like the scum of the earth. As though we are less important than everyone else but we should be grateful, we've come this far haven't we? You've come together to legalize same sex marriage, marriage between a dog and a human, incredulously marijuana, in spite in your precious tax dollars, in many states across the nation. When will it be legal to be what I actually came out the womb as? What I actually did not choose to be but will hold with pride as if I did? You see this Rachel? This is what being Black in America truly means.

When can I be black? Where can I be black? When can I walk out of the house and not look at every white person who stares at me for a beat too long pondering if they are also racist? When can I walk into a store and not have to worry about the shopkeepers eyeing my hands? When will you realize this is a race thing? When will you realize there is privilege? When can I be truly free? ...

When will we actually progress?
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