diaryofanegress

Observations of an Invisible Woman

Archive for the tag “racism in the workplace”

06 May 2013
66 Comments

Is Racism a Mental Illness?

Caucasian man

“You know what I’ve been thinking?”

That was the loaded question my blogger buddy asked me the other day.

“No, what?”

“That racism should be classified by the medical world as a mental illness. I mean, it defies logic, reason and debilitates the individual. Think about it. Haven’t you heard of whites who have stated that they would rather die than to have a black doctor care for them? What about that case in the news where the man put up a note that no black nurses are allowed to care for his newborn baby? Remember that poor lady who screamed for help to find her kids when Sandy struck Long Island and that white man slammed the door in her face? Don’tcha think that it’s a sickness to hate someone to the point of murdering them when they’ve done no harm to you…I mean, even if you can’t live with yourself afterwards…it’s like they can’t help it?”

Her words were potent and made me think.

“Well, that would mean that Dr. Wright was correct then, wouldn’t it?”

“What did he say again, Truth?”

“That white people know the difference between right from wrong but they do not care,” I explained.

Since I began to seriously study racism and its origins, all signs point to the Caucasian construct. It was their construct that single handedly obliterated this entire planet by creating a caste system. It was their racism that spawned what I like to call The Racial Progeny: Sexism, Colourism and Feminism. It was their insecurity of their own lack of melanin that cause the extermination of indigenous groups throughout the diaspora. It was their rules and regulations that caused the ripple effect that Mother Nature has been trying to correct for thousands of years. It was their insatiable greed based on white superiority that polluted the minds of every living person on earth, including its victims, to the point where programs called Sensitivity Training and Diversity Awareness are now mandatory in most workplaces.

But…mental illness?

Hmmm…I’ve written about Projection Syndrome and how they are filled with self-loathing so they must niggerize us lest they self-destruct. But calling them mentally ill? Wouldn’t that let them “off the hook?”

What do you think? Are white people mentally ill?

Posted in Racial injustice, White people and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
29 Mar 2013
109 Comments

Projection: A European Madness Disease

Neanderthal

Since writing my “Stockholm Syndrome” post on black mental sickness, I thought it was time to do the European counterpart. Since we all agree that blacks are mentally ill due to our introduction and indoctrination into a deviant white society, I’d like to explain White Sickness. Whites living in their own self-created white supremacist system suffer from a deadly disease called Projection:

Psychological projection was first conceptualized by Sigmund Freud, a homosexual, pedophilic, cocaine-addicted Jewish Freemason, as a defense mechanism where a person subconsciously denies his or her own negative attributes by ascribing them to persons in the outside world instead. Thus, projection involves imagining or projecting faults onto others. The original idea was that projection would allow for reduced anxiety by allowing the expression of the unwanted unconscious impulses or desires without letting the conscious mind recognize them.

From the beginning of time, the European, delegated to the caves in Eurasia, has been dependent on the African for knowledge and survival. His-Story and media propaganda would have us believing that it is Africans who needed help and guidance. When I began the painful process of un-learning my white mis-education and re-learning who I am, why God created me and what the future holds for His People, I wanted to inhale all that was placed in front of me. My quest lead me to the creation of the one word that cannot die:

Nigger.

What is the real definition of a nigger in my estimation?

A nigger is a low-down, dirty, good-for-nothing, shiftless, lazy person.

Africans who built civilizations, who created math, astronomy and science, taught the European everything that they know from the importance of bathing, to fishing, to building houses, to farming, to explaining why they should not kill and ingest each other, have proven that they are not niggers. An African, by my definition, cannot be a nigger. A nigger is someone who:

Depends on the hard work of others to grow rich while they sit back and do nothing

Is unable to be satisfied no matter what amount of wealth they acquire

Cheats, steals, lies, kills and rapes their way to the top

Does not understand the basics of huemanity

Does not understand the importance of Spirituality

Does not have any respect or value for flora and fauna

Controls the media with lies

Sells guns and drugs to children

Embezzles money

Spawns children all over the Earth and do not care for them

Rapes children in pedophile circuses, including their own

Kills animals for sport

Drops bombs on certain neighbourhoods due to envy

Creates human and animal zoos

Flings a newborn baby into the mouth of a hungry alligator

Gives a complete stranger their babies to suckle and raise because they cannot do it themselves

Practices bestiality

Steals resources from other countries

Blows up fault lines causing earthquakes

Drills for oil and kills innocent animals

Practices Necrophilia

Practices scatophilia

Creates deadly diseases in labs

Experiments on humans for pleasure

Elects fraudulent politicians

Writes laws which contradict morality

Creates toxic vaccines

Builds private banks to keep the money for themselves

Crashes the stock market for their personal gain

Privatizes prisons for personal gain

Obliterates the constitution of marriage with pornography, homosexuality and feminism

Plants drugs at crime scenes

Castrates men and women and use their body parts for trophies

Poisons the food and water supply with chemicals and metals

Has plastic surgery to obtains features they criticize others for having

Creates soundwaves to manipulate the weather

Creates drones to spy on people

Creates drones to drop bombs on other countries

Kills their own family members and blames it on others

Creates addictive drugs under the guise of helping children concentrate

Sterilizes men and women without their consent

Walks into other people’s Holy Land and takes it

Kidnaps people and steal and eat their body parts

Brainwashes people through predictive programming

Builds ovens to cook humans

Creates a mafia

Writes laws that delegates where you will live

Writes laws that delegates who much you’ll earn

Writes laws that delegates how you’ll be treated

Writes laws that delegates where you’ll be educated

Segregates neighbourhoods, towns and cities

Dumps sewage in your neighbourhood

Feels that the holocaust of a indigenous peoples wasn’t “all that bad”

Eats their young in ritual sacrificial Satanic ceremonies

And intimidates and threatens to kill ANYONE who dares to expose them, including their own kind

Now that you’ve seen the true definition of the word, the question is: who does the word best describe?

Projection, a mental anomaly, is born out of the desire to escape realism of oneself. It is a necessary tool for the mind to obtain some form of structured “normalcy” within “abnormalcy”. If, for one moment, the abnormal mind should ever face the reality, mental decomposition is surely imminent. Therefore, Projection becomes a psychological clutch that is used to proclaim innocence, piety and wholesomeness.

There is, of course, a tremendous downfall to this disease. By seeing the worst in others because you are unable and unwilling to see the worst in yourself, you unwillingly create your own Karmic destruction. The Law of the Universe states that everything destroyed by malicious intent shall be replaced with the destroyer themselves. The upcoming catastrophes will offer a Karmic balance for the lives lost by evil.

Since studying and understand the prison system that Africans are forced to live in (for now), I have gained a feeling akin to pity for my oppressors. Even though they have projected their worst attributes onto us, I know that Karmic Law, not the law of man, will seek Justice. As somewhere deep down, my oppressors know it too.

Posted in White people and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
02 Mar 2013
63 Comments

The Miseducation of The Negress

“…Every time you see yourself in the  mirror, whether you’re black, brown, red or yellow, you’re seeing a  person who’s a serious problem for the United States, because they do  not want you here” — Malcom X

 

I say this with no ego: School came easy for me.

Coming from the Islands where our education system was so rigid (and home-schooling practices were equally rigid), I surpassed many of my white counterparts in the European Mis-Education system much to the dismay of my white Jewish teachers. I was taught, incorrectly, that white education would be the key to my success in a country founded in my blood. I was astutely aware of how my near 4.0 GPA caused my professors mental anguish. I remember the way this one particular white female Jewish professor would frown every time I answered a problem swiftly and correctly. Her thin, lipsticked lips would crinkle at the corners and deep lines marred the center of her brow. My young and innocent mind couldn’t fathom that what took place within the confines of her classroom would pale in comparison to the real world that lay waiting for me.

Perhaps the first time I knew that something was amiss was the day that I innocently stated one day after class that someday, perhaps before my 18th birthday, I would become a famous writer. My Jewish teacher looked at me with great amusement and told me to my face that “Niggers can’t write.” With a sharp intake of breath, the notion of my doom, despite my ambitions, stunned me, hurt me and made me fearful of myself. I tried to understand why “Niggers can’t write” but I could not. Was it a defect from birth that would stunt my abilities? Even now, with my children’s novel and my soap company, the white chip deeply lodged in my brain whispers to me, “You’re nothing but a failure. Fuck you, you black, dirty Nigger. You’ll never make it.” I fight against it daily and sometimes, at my lowest moments, when the white voice inside me is too strong, they win. I acquiesce into depression and take to my bed.

When college came, I got such a high score on my entrance exam with no preparation, it aroused immediate suspicion by the dean and I was summoned into his office for a “conference.” I remember the way he and another white woman hung on to my every word, desperate to hear some reasonable explanation or perhaps a clue as to why I surpassed all other students in a predominately white class. And when my white professors learned that I had no formal training in my writing ability, plagiarism rumours began to circulate. How can it be possible to write “from my soul” and receive A’s when white students studied 2 hours daily and barely passed with a “C”? I was confused. I didn’t understand what was happening and believed it to be my fault. I then made a critical error one day that began my journey into my mental breakdown: I would try harder to appease them. Clarke, Amos, Woodson and many other black educators were forsaken for Yeats, Hemingway and Shelley.

In their company, I only spoke of approved topics, approved movies and tried hard never to appear too “black.” My complexion relaxed them, if only slightly, but my natural hair, which grew long and terribly wild looking, intimidated them. They did not know if I was a “safe” black or if I was comfortable in my blackness….which made them all the more uncomfortable. They hop-scotched from one decision to another and I witnessed it all. Inside their realm of the education system, where their ideas and inventions were talked about and glorified, I was slowing dissolving into madness. I knew that my ancestors built wall street, the white house, railroads and invented all, and I do mean all, of the things we now take for granted, like the traffic light. I wanted to yell, “Hey, my 7th great ancestors created that in The Rainforest!” but kept silent for fear of their denial and anger.

When the workplace and I become intertwined, my state of near insanity was eminent. God gave me a natural ability to learn things with no training, just simple observation and I would perform tasks in 3 days that would take them 3 months…and they hated me for it. I was set up for failure at every turn and if not for the aid of The Creator, I would not have completed my 90 days probation period.

I was completely and entirely unprepared for the level of animosity that I would face at the wicked hands of my oppressors. Lies were told, stories were mixed with fiction, tales were embellished, files were “accidentally” deleted and I, the lone African in many of my departments, bore the brunt of it all. I would duck into the ladies bathroom to weep on many occasions and one day, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. With a tear-stained, red face and a swollen nose…I gasp! So that’s the problem!

I’m a nigger.

This hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t a nigger in the islands. I was black. From God. From my parents. I was proud and almost arrogant of my Carbon. So what happened to me? I went from being one with Jah, to being a lowly, good-for-nothing dog. But, surely my education mattered!!! After all, I graduated at the top of my class despite an Italian woman’s attempt to destroy me. I was well read. Well spoken. Educated with a degree. And medical training. Didn’t that matter? Didn’t that count for something? Many whites could not and did not have the ambition to achieve what I have achieved at the age of 25. I was told that their schooling was the key to my happiness.

Somebody lied to me.

Being black in the entire world, created under the illusion of white supremacy, means you are ignoble. You are worthless. And all your attempts will be futile. Ideas will be stolen, you’ll be cast aside like yesterday’s garbage and not one person will come to your rescue.

Nothing you accomplish will ever be good enough, fast enough, competent enough because you, in the system of white supremacy, are not enough. Your attempts at success will be mocked and trivialized. Your attempts at freedom will be marginalized. The white system will offer you crumbs from time to time, while they feast and gorge themselves fat and rotund. You will salivate for those crumbs in a desperate attempt to have a belly-full of desires. But that day will never come. Not with them as the Master Chef. ALL things that make you who you are will be rendered useless to society. Yet, society could not function without you. It is this paradigm that nearly took my life.

Today, my true Spiritual education continues daily. I read my books now. I watch Mystory now instead of Theirstory. I meditate with Jah, ask for direction from the Universe, which is female and all powerful, and I have begun the painful process of re-learning everything I thought I knew about living in a white world in brown skin. I continuously grow each day. I stagger at times at the blatant evil that spews from the cold, flinty gaze of my enemy, but when all is said and done, I’m grateful to be black…giver of black life, producer of black melanin, ancestor of black Ra, my grandmother’s black spirit and made with the Carbon of the Black Hole. Whiteness may have the privilege…for now…but blackness will always have the power. I’m just a little sad that it took me this long to realize it.

Posted in black power, Racial injustice and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
24 Feb 2013
120 Comments

Working While Black

Black man in the office

This is just my observation. But in the work place when an black person is quiet and keeps to one self , I thinks this makes whites uneasy. Or when there are too many black employees together they find a way to break that up as well. I think black people freak white people out in the workplace…is this some carry over from slavery? Do they think blacks, like during slavery, are going to revolt and cause an insurrection?  —–  Mary Burrell

I say this with no exaggeration. Working in white corporate AmeriKlan has taken years off my life. On Sunday nights (and some weekday nights, depending on my shift) a wave of insomnia and terror overrides me. I am filled with apprehension and cold, paralyzing fear of entering my prison plantation called The Hospital. I toss and turn, anticipating Demons who will tear at me, lie on me, meddle with my machine, obstruct my dictation, interfere with my patient load and virtually try to destroy me.

I am the sole black in a sea of white people who fear me, envy my abilities and hate the ground I walk on. To say that I’ve developed a psychological trauma is putting it lightly. I make every effort to codify myself around them, to protect my hair and thusly my aura around them to no avail. They flock to me. Stare at me. Criticize me. Ask me questions that no sane person would ask and drain me Spiritually and emotionally. Without my strong faith in The High Creator, I would slip into the mouth of madness…or become someone that would make my mother weep.

I say this with no exaggeration that working in white corporate AmeriKlan is akin to a slave plantation with overseers in every corner, every hiding place, every crevice. And their number one goal is to bring you to your knees.

Since my blog is designed for us to heal, learn and share, I shall give my family an opportunity to vent out their frustrations and ask questions about workplace violence. Yes…you read correctly. I call it like I see it. What is being done to us is violence. It is real. It is Deadly. And it is a very effective from of menticide.

Do you have a story to share? And can you help Miss Mary and answer her very astute question?

Posted in Nasty Co-workers and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
14 Feb 2013
93 Comments

Confessions of a White Racist: Chronicle Four

“Can I ask you something?”

I looked up into the eyes of my patient. “Yes?”

“Why do you people twist your hair into ropes?”

****rubs temples****

As I contemplated telling my rich, white patient to go fuck herself, I wondered for the umpteenth time why EVERYONE has a fascination with our hair. The question brought me back to my childhood in Ameriklan where white children would ask to touch my hair then call me a Nappy-headed nigger. The Creator gave us spiral waves, in the exact form of hue-man DNA, as a Spiritual antenna to connect with the universe in all Her glory. Our hair, in its natural state, absorbs energies from Nature, animals, the soil and each other. Unfortunately, it also absorbs Demonic forces. These energies are then transmitted to our Chakras:

African Spirit or “Ba”

Which is why you often times “pick up on someone’s vibe.” It is very real and is currently being used to oppress us. That’s why, Black Family, I seldom go out without my head scarf.

Our hair, which is the MOST diversified texture on earth, can be shaped and styled to our liking and in many cultures throughout the diaspora, can represent ceremonial traditions, marriage or even Princedom. These are traits that many emulate and try to pass off as their own invention:

Wannabe

Dreadlocks, also called Natty Dread, locks or ras, are simply left to coil and tangle on their own without the use of combing. As old as time, Moses, Samson and Jesus himself were said to have dreadlocks. The Ras Tafari movement made this style synonymous with their deep connection to God, Nature and reggae music. Today, blacks sport many styles of hair:

Natural Woman

As for my patient, I thought about my mortgage before I replied, “To be one with the Creator.”

She said nothing.

Posted in black power, Nasty Co-workers, Racial injustice and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
06 Jan 2013
56 Comments

My Battle With Drapetomania

I remember the day I realized something was wrong with me but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was in a meeting at work and the boss was speaking about our quarterly performances and monetary departmental gain. The Spirit commanded me to look around the room and what I saw shocked me. I witnessed everyone staring blankly at the speaker, slack-jawed, nodding in unison at his every word, even the ones that made no sense, agreeing with his hypothesis on how to make more and more money, never uttering anything against his policies and it was then, at that precise moment, that I realized I was a slave.

The notion stunned me into stillness.

Why did it take me this long to realize this life-altering conclusion? How long had I been a slave? Then it hit me…

From the day I was born, my purpose on this earth was to enrich and serve white supremacy. I stumbled from one despair filled job to the next, running nowhere, trying to find a way off the plantation but was lost, exhausted and was about to give up. It was purely by accident that a passage in a book caught my eye one day. It was describing a field hand who exhibited my exact same symptoms.

Drapetomania was a supposed mental illness described by physician Samuel Cartwright. In 1851, Cartwright explained that Drapetomania caused black slaves to want to flee captivity. 

Cartwright described the disorder – which, he said, was “unknown to our medical authorities, although its diagnostic symptom, the absconding from service, is well known to our planters and overseers.”

He stated that the malady was a consequence of masters who “made themselves too familiar with [slaves], treating them as equals”.

When I stumbled upon my diagnosis, I felt exhilarated, confused and angry. Happy for my diagnosis at last, confused because never in my life, had whites EVER treated me as an equal and angry for the fact that no black person had ever told me I was a slave.

Why hadn’t someone, anyone, said to me, “Hey Nigger…you’re one of us. Screw your education. Screw your job. That new house you just bought? Screw that too! You ain’t worth shit ’round here.” I fell into one despair-filled spiral after another since my self-diagnosis. I ran nowhere. Took job after job only to end up on someone else’s plantation with an even tougher overseer.

I struggled for freedom. I wanted some other black person to pass me on the street and see that familiar look in my eyes and smile and wink at me and say, “Don’t worry…I have Drapetomania too! I’ve been wanting to flee from my plantation for 20 years…wanna get together and work on a plan?”

But no one came. No one winked. No one smiled and offered any solutions. I was burdened to fight my illness on my own. There are days when I still struggle with my disease to the point of praying for wings to fly away. And there are days that the plantation doesn’t seem that bad. But I know that’s all apart of the illness. To fight and struggle in confusion with everyone…including yourself.

Posted in Racial injustice, Slavery and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
11 Dec 2012
112 Comments

Devil in A Blue Dress

Beautiful glamour woman in blue dress on white fur sofa Stock Photo - 8516485

Jim Crow, AmeriKlan’s apartheid, was in my estimation, founded by the need to separate the white woman from the black man. I’ve written many posts on my mistrust for the white female and her invisible role in our destruction. The white male, historically, has no love for the white female. His attention was always geared towards the young, white male and his black, female slave. The white female, to her white man, is but an ornament and an insurance policy to breed him white children to carry on his bloodline.

Since I am “invisible”, I observe the white female in her need for love, power and acceptance in a mysogynistic domain. It is my belief that the white female is the most dangerous person on earth. She uses her sexuality and non-threatening stature as a powerful weapon to accomplish her deeds whilst pretending to be innocent of all evil acts.

Omar Thornton, with his girlfriend, before his murder-suicide.

Listen to how she “doesn’t know what she did wrong” and is TOTALLY unapologetic.

The white female, never having to own up to her own racism, is fiercely protected by the very system that oppresses her. Deeply insecure and breathtakingly manipulative, she subtly instigates murders, lynchings, rapes, castrations…and walks away unfazed, unharmed and completely secure in her entitlement. That’s why she is perhaps more dangerous and more racist than any white male in existence.

Emmett Till’s untimely death is just ONE of the many examples of the slithery, white feminine mind in relation to black male sexuality. The white female, missing a piece of herself, will seek racial comfort and validation in the bed of the black male. In every instance that I’ve heard from EVERY black man, it is always the white woman who approaches him. Feelings of guilt, confusion and betrayal to her race will show themselves in racial slurs hurled at her lover. Her intense hatred for her strongest and most threatening competitor: The black woman, will reveal itself when least expected:

The white female, unknown to many historians, will lure a black female slave into her home so her husband can rape and sodomize her. Desperate to protect her, the white male will accept all blame so her role in the system will remain intact. I’ve had so many horrendous experiences with the white woman and her mindset, I can simply look into her eyes and see her thoughts and future actions without her uttering a word.

Since most blacks focus on the white male as the epitome of “superiority”, we overlook the fact that the white male was birth, raised, groomed and taught by the white female. Behind every white, racist man, lies the woman responsible for the man. That is why, for me, the white female is the one to be most wary of.

Posted in Racial injustice, White people and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
27 Nov 2012
31 Comments

Dreams of My Father

Digging through my history has been challenging to say the least. I’ve come across so many troubling essays, articles and hidden-from-sight facts that I felt emotionally sick. But through it all, perhaps throughout my entire life, I’ve felt a deep connection to one person even when I never knew his name.

Nat Turner.

Is it possible to feel something before you know it exists?

I think so.

I’ve felt Nat Turner’s spirit with me my entire life. A burning need that defies articulation has been building in me since the day I heard the word “Nigger.” I feel him in the sun. I feel him in the power of lightning. And I feel his presence when I’m at work, giving me guidance as I stare ever so insolently into the blue-tinged, gelatinous, empty orifice of my enemies.

Nat Turner was born on October 2, 1800, in Southampton County, Virginia. While still a young child, Nat was overheard describing events that had happened before he was born. This, along with his keen intelligence, and other signs marked him in the eyes of his people as a prophet “intended for some great purpose.”

In 1821, Turner ran away from his overseer, returning after thirty days because of a vision in which the Spirit had told him to “return to the service of my earthly master.” The next year, following the death of his master, Samuel Turner, Nat was sold to Thomas Moore. Three years later, Nat Turner had another vision. He saw lights in the sky and prayed to find out what they meant. Then “… while laboring in the field, I discovered drops of blood on the corn, as though it were dew from heaven, and I communicated it to many, both white and black, in the neighborhood; and then I found on the leaves in the woods hieroglyphic characters and numbers, with the forms of men in different attitudes, portrayed in blood, and representing the figures I had seen before in the heavens.”

On May 12, 1828, Turner had his third vision: “I heard a loud noise in the heavens, and the Spirit instantly appeared to me and said the Serpent was loosened, and Christ had laid down the yoke he had borne for the sins of men, and that I should take it on and fight against the Serpent, for the time was fast approaching when the first should be last and the last should be first… And by signs in the heavens that it would make known to me when I should commence the great work, and until the first sign appeared I should conceal it from the knowledge of men; and on the appearance of the sign… I should arise and prepare myself and slay my enemies with their own weapons.”

Then, in February, 1831, there was an eclipse of the sun. Turner took this to be the sign he had been promised and confided his plan to the four men he trusted the most, Henry, Hark, Nelson, and Sam. They decided to hold the insurrection on the 4th of July and began planning a strategy. However, they had to postpone action because Turner became ill.

On August 13, there was an atmospheric disturbance in which the sun appeared bluish-green. This was the final sign, and a week later, on August 21, Turner and six of his men met in the woods to eat a dinner and make their plans. At 2:00 that morning, they set out to the Travis household, where they killed the entire family as they lay sleeping. They continued on, from house to house, killing all of the white people they encountered. Turner’s force eventually consisted of more than 40 slaves, most on horseback.

By about mid-day on August 22, Turner decided to march toward Jerusalem, the closest town. By then word of the rebellion had gotten out to the whites; confronted by a group of militia, the rebels scattered, and Turner’s force became disorganized. After spending the night near some slave cabins, Turner and his men attempted to attack another house, but were repulsed. Several of the rebels were captured. The remaining force then met the state and federal troops in final skirmish, in which one slave was killed and many escaped, including Turner. In the end, the rebels had stabbed, shot and clubbed at least 55 white people to death.

Nat Turner hid in several different places near the Travis farm, but on October 30 was discovered and captured. His “Confession,” dictated to physician Thomas R. Gray, was taken while he was imprisoned in the County Jail. On November 5, Nat Turner was tried in the Southampton County Court and sentenced to execution. He was hanged, and then skinned, on November 11.  —- {From African-Americans on Nat Turner}

Nat Turner, my forefather, will be my guiding Spiritual force when the universe makes its long-awaited shift and Africans are finally awakened to their rightful place on Earth.

Posted in black power and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
24 Nov 2012
7 Comments

Blacks and Health: A Natural Way to Heal Part 3

Therapist: What brings you here today, Truthbetold?

Me: Something is happening to me. Being around white people…their energy makes me sick…depressed. I can’t get out of bed. I’m nauseous. Dizzy. I’m sinking into myself and can’t shake it off.

Therapist: (silence)

As I uttered those words to my white, female therapist, I thought if only for a moment that perhaps I should bite my tongue.

St. John’s wort is an herb that can be grown in the summer and winter. As old as ancient times, this flowering herb was used for tea to treat:
Depression
Anxiety
Insomnia
Headaches
Wound healing (when made into an ointment)
Today, Australia produces 20 percent of the world’s supply. St. John’s wort was given its name because it blooms about June 24th, the birthday of John the Baptist. “Wort” is an old English word for plant. Several countries, including Japan, the United Kingdom and Canada, are in the process of including drug-herb interaction warnings on St. John’s wort products due to the active ingredients hyperforin and hypericin. As with any plant/root/herb interactions, care should be used if you take other drugs for pain, depression and are pregnant. It is wise to do research on plants and side-effects before you take any natural medicines.
I’ve used this fantastic plant on and off for years and for me, with the combination of sunlight and The Most High, I’ve felt better than I’ve ever felt in years.
Next Article: Apple Cider Vinegar.
Posted in black power, The problem and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
28 Oct 2012
30 Comments

10 Counter Racist Tools Every Black Person Should Have

One: 

Why? Headphones deter conversation which may lead to detrimental results. I use mine even when not listening to music. I never leave home without them.

Two:

Why? Highliting your book gives off the impression of studying, which means “Do not disturb.” I use this tactic on the train, bus and anywhere I can to keep myself as safe as safe will allow.

Three: 

Why? Eye contact may spark unwelcomed comments, looks of fear and misconstrued intentions. I once had a white woman confess to me when black men look at her, she feared they will rape her…on the street, you know, like, in broad daylight… in front of everyone.

Four: 

Why? Because being black can get you killed at anytime, any place on earth. Confrontation is the white man’s tool in order to call the cops, fire a gun, etc.  Add skin colour to the equation and you’re in a hot mess. If you feel a confrontation is looming, a siren will cause unwanted attention, which may end up saving your life.

Five: 

Why? For those that work late, pick up the kids after school or go to night school, this is a must.

Six: 

A clock? No. A hidden camera…for those that work in white corporate AmeriKlan this is imperative! When accusations fly, things go “missing” off your desk and files from your computer get “accidentally deleted”, you need proof to back you up.

Seven: 

Another One?! Yes. This time for your car. Black men: this could mean life or death when pulled over by the cops.

Eight: 

Believe it or not, not everyone has one. Why is this important? If you get pulled over by the cops, dial your OWN HOME NUMBER, your sister’s number, your friend’s number and, if no one picks up, let the machine record the events that take place. If possible, say the name of the officer (usually it’s on his badge) out loud so the machine can record it.

Example: “Officer Smith, did I do something wrong?”

Nine: 

Why? Because when you’re driving late at night, do you really want to pull over at a gas station? Alone? Or with kids and family in the car? Since Trayvon Martin was lynched by a civilian, my family begged me to stop getting gas after work, especially when I worked 2nd shift.

Ten:

A cooler bag? Why? When you’re on the road, either traveling alone or with family, a cooler bag full of sandwiches/water will come in handy so you don’t have to pull over in an unfamiliar part of town/state. Whilst traveling across the south, I never thought to do this…till I had an uncomfortable situation with the owners of a small five-and-dime. The next day, I bought a large cooler bag to travel with. Now, whenever I’m on the road, it’s full of goodies.

Sometimes planning ahead will save your life.

Hope this helps you. Any more ideas or suggestions?

Posted in Racial injustice, Somethings wrong with the world, White people, White Supremacy and tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
19 Aug 2012
82 Comments

The Conversation We Need to Have

 

 

Given the recent shootings by white males, James Holmes and Wade Michael Page amongst others, it would seem that AmeriKlan is in desperate need of a long overdue conversation pertaining to white male anger. Many, like myself, may feel that white, Christian, heterosexual males have naught to be angry about but given the rise of hate groups and mass shootings, I would surmise the contrary.

If anyone in the world has the right to be ranting and screaming irate, it’s the black man. I sincerely doubt that anyone who is HONEST will say otherwise. Yet, even within the confines of unemployment, the prison system that beguiles him and the police that literally become wet with desire for a bullet to penetrate his flesh, he finds a way to persevere.

Why are white males so angry?

What’s wrong? What could be wrong? Why are whites itching for this “race war” and doing everything in their power to ignite the flames? And why are black/ brown/ red/ yellow people of all countries turning the other cheek? Why aren’t we giving in? What does this say about our morality Vs.  theirs? And why is NO ONE acknowledging that?

This is one conversation that I welcome ALL peoples of every colour, every religion, every walk of life, especially WHITE MALES, to join in. I’m asking you to tell us what’s going on. Because frankly, we just don’t know anymore.

****This will be an honest, open, adult soul-searching discussion. If you are a troll and bring up bullshit black crime statistics, I’ll ban you****

Posted in Columbine, Racial injustice, Somethings wrong with the world, White people, White Supremacy, white terrorism and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
28 Jul 2012
28 Comments

Rules of Survival While at Work

Awhile back, a commenter, HunglikeJesus, asked me to formulate a post on survival in the white world. I had just done the 3 D’s of White Supremacy and he wanted a follow-up post…but just for us. So I did the best I could:

Rule #1. Never speak any thought out loud around the supremacist. Anything you say can and will be used against you.

Rule #2. Never discuss your personal life. This is BIG. Whites are always in our faces. Especially at work. “Oh! Where did you get your training? Do you live around here? Wow! You speak so well! Did you go to Harvard?” This is known as psychological interviewing…where you sum up your enemy to see “what you’re up against.” Also, resist the urge to share about your new car, your husband’s promotion, your kitchen remodel. ANY indication that you’re doing well will inflame them.

I’ve learned to simply say, “Why do you want to know?” That throws them because now they must answer…which puts them on the spot. If they come back at you, which they probably will, say: “Listen, not to be rude but I don’t like discussing my personal life at work.” Remember to keep your voice even-toned so they can’t claim that you became “aggressive.”

Rule #3. Tell your family members not to call or email you using the COMPANY TELEPHONE OR INTERNET. Why? I.T. can trace all calls and messages and it can be used against you. My boss did that to me once and I was caught off guard. Now, when I make calls, it’s from my cell phone only.

Rule #4. I CANNOT SAY THIS ENOUGH: DON’T GOSSIP!!!!! Have you ever been in this situation:

White woman: I can’t stand the new supervisor.

You: Yeah…I know…she’s seems a little out of touch.

White woman: Out of touch? How?

You: You know…she tells us about how we need to cut the budget, yet she buys a new car.

White woman: Ohhhhhh…yes, yes, yes…exactly.

Two days later, you are brought into the office…and reprimanded! Don’t gossip! It leads no where, except the unemployment line.

Rule #5. Some of you may be required to attend company picnics, parties, ice cream socials, etc…If liquor is served, don’t drink any! Stick to water and say that alcohol gives you diarrhea, heartburn, the hives, dizziness…whatever…just don’t drink any. When you are intoxicated, you leave yourself open to suggestion, if you know what I’m saying.

Rule #6. Most whites at work will feel threatened by any intelligent black person. This is a fact. My own co-worker put this one patient in harms way just to spite me with a Vascular procedure called a A-V Fistula scan for dialysis. Without getting too technical, a fistula is created when a patient has something called end stage renal failure or ESRD. This fistula is utilized to clean the blood and essentially keep the patient alive. My co-worker pretended not to know about a particular fistula, when I asked for a consult, to make me look foolish in front of the Nephrologist. If possible, do your own research on that machine, that protocol, that new rule…anything…except go to them. Or simply ask for help with Human Resources.

Rule #7. Black men, hear my plea, do not for any reason, be alone with a white woman unsupervised. When I was working in New Jersey at this wealthy hospital, we had a black man as the Chief Nuclear Medicine Tech. With his tall and strapping good looks and 3, yes…3 degrees, administration had no choice but to elevate him to Chief status. That meant that doctors went to him for advice…Now, there is a rule with our male staff: All male practitioners must have a female chaperone while with a female patient. So, having said that, listen to this short story:

One morning, around 2 am, X was called in for an emergency. The surgeon wanted quick answers so he wrote the order and X got to work. Not thinking that anything was going to happen, he never thought to call the floors to get a female chaperone. He performed the test, dictated the results and sent the patient back to her room. A few days later, he was called in to H.R. with accusations of “misconduct.” He was fired. Went on unemployment and his record, tarnished.

Black men, if you are doctors, nurses, construction workers…don’t be alone with a white woman period.

Rule #8. Write it down. If someone says something to you…and that funny voice in your head says, “Hmmmmm……” write down names, time and dates. Keep a log so if shit hits the fan, you have backup.

Rule #9. Communicate by email. Words can be twisted. Email is tangible. Keep your email short and to the point.

Rule #10. If you suspect that you are being sabotaged, run to H.R. with a typed and NOTARIZED letter. Keep it factual, not emotional and have a copy for yourself. This paper trail will maybe save your job.

Anything else I missed?

Posted in Nasty Co-workers, Racial injustice, terrible workplaces, White people, white terrorism and tagged , , , , , ,
19 Jul 2012
19 Comments

Dear Diary… #2

Last night I cleaned out my junk drawer and found the business card that I should’ve thrown out years ago. It was from my very first professional job interview. I was a new grad and eager and desperate to land my first job. I drove to a little upstate New York hospital after having a dynamite phone interview. We hit it off straight way. I dazzled him with my personality and even though he knew I was a novice, he welcomed me to meet him face to face.

Nervous and wanting to make a good impression, I picked up a large box of doughnuts, bagels and coffee from the local coffee shack. When I entered the building, I swear, movement slowed down. All of a sudden, people just turned around to openly stare at me. It was then that I knew just how very black I was.

The receptionist looked…uneasy as I approached her. Remembering my Rules of Talking to White People Manual, I smiled at her. I told her I was here to see Mr. X, from the Nursing Department. She made no move or sound. I explained that he was expecting me. She stammered, ” Have a seat, uh, miss, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

I sat down and scanned the room. I was the only black face there.

Again.

I began to notice how everyone that walked by me was trying ever so carefully not to look at me. It was then that Mr. X walked up to me, shuffled his feet and said tentatively, ” Miss Truthbetold?” I nodded and offered him my brightest smile and extended my hand to shake. He hesitated before accepting it. We walked down this narrow corridor and I noticed that not one person who passed by looked at me directly. You know that old Urban Legend: If you look directly at a Negress, you’ll turn to dust?

I sat down when prompted and pulled out my meager resume. I was shaking. I knew that this would not end well. I felt his “vibe” all over me. He looked at my resume and said he was sorry but the department needed an experienced person. They couldn’t train anyone new. I felt defeated And for a reason that I could not explain…ashamed. I wanted to cry but stubbornly I kept my eyes dry and voice even.

“OK. Well, thanks for your time.” I got up to leave and half expected him to say something reassuring. He said nothing. I got in my car and the dam burst. I cried for allowing myself to feel the exhilaration of hope. I cried for the hate stares I received that penetrated me. For the lies he told…he knew damn well I was a novice. I cried for wasting my gas to drive up to that damn racist place. I cried for the way my blackness made everyone uncomfortable. I cried for my weakness and my curse that will never be lifted. I cried in despair. I cried in rage. I cried in fear of never finding a job.

I cried because I am black.

I drove home with a deeper understanding of what it means to be black in AmeriKlan. No college course could ever teach me that. I would no longer doubt that I was imagining things when I felt that “vibe” coming from whites. I would no longer doubt that AmeriKlan hated me for no other reason than the colour of my skin. And perhaps, most importantly, I would never again allow anyone to diminish my Black Pride. With each toll booth that passed, my depression lifted and became defiant rage. I thought about this unknown, uneasy feeling I’ve had my whole life. It was called Blackness. And now, I knew its name.

What was your first job related racist experience?

Posted in Black women, Nasty Co-workers, Racial injustice, Somethings wrong with the world and tagged , , , , , , ,
17 Jul 2012
37 Comments

Black vs Black…In The Workplace

{This will be apart of an ongoing series exploring the dynamics of black relationships}

If you have brown skin, you know just how hard it is in the workplace. Since the powers that be never hire more than a certain number of us, except in food service and housekeeping, we must work twice as hard to be considered half as competent. Perhaps the most baffling thing about the black psyche is the way we relate and treat one another. I understand why whites hate us. It’s apart of who they are. But black animosity is quite stunning.

Take my friend X. As a SUNY graduate, she is smart as a whip, thin, model beautiful and hated amongst her black constituents. X is an overachiever. And proud of it. She comes from a long line of overachievers and knows the value of working her fingers to the  bone. X calls me to tell me the most heartbreaking thing a black person can hear; that the other black women on her job are trying to destroy her. Let’s examine this:

Whites have no conscience when it comes to making money. If they did, slavery would have never have happened.

I’ve seen whites invite someone over for a barbecue, play a round of golf with them, invite them to little Susie’s birthday party on Sunday afternoon…and on Monday morning, walk in with a Starbucks cup of coffee in their hands, go into the boardroom and slit that person’s throat over the MacKenzie Proposal…all without batting an eyelash.

For whites, money comes first over civility. For whites, it’s business as usual. For whites…no hard feelings, it’s just apart of Survival of the Fittest.

But for blacks…Ahhhh…..not only is it personal but the fact that the attack was administered by a fellow African makes it downright unforgiveable. Let’s examine why this occurs:

1. Knowing that there can only be but one black person at the top, this frenzy…this burning need encourages severe competition. Whites make the rules on how many black people they can hire, yes folks, the quota is real, and knowing this, we will fight tooth and nail to have a little slice of the “white-flavoured pie.” Even if the white pie is poisonous to our souls and distances us from our black family, the desire to be amongst the white elite will take precedence. Sorry folks, I know he’s your hero, but I never really cared for him:

2. Being a product of the white master’s competitive and inhumane ways, we view ourselves as an individual instead of a collective whole. Therefore only our needs count. Only our individual outcome is important. Selfishness becomes apart of our existence. Since you and you alone had to work 2 jobs to get where you are, why can’t other blacks do the same? They’re just lazy. Dumb. And Ignorant. If you pushed and made it, why can’t they? And why should you be responsible for the entire black race?

3. You genuinely hate other black people and wish to see them fail. I know this sounds farfetched but it’s an unfortunate reality. I’ve met a few blacks who hate other blacks. Of course this is the ultimate form of self-hate but it does exist. The thought that a black person will rise to power makes them uneasy. They are accustomed to taking orders from whites who are better suited to be in a position of authority. And a black person, no matter how qualified, can’t “measure up.” Since historically blacks have been subjugated by whites, having a black person in power warrants disrespect and a lackadaisical attitude. When a white boss tells you to get that report done ASAP and you’ll jump to get it done, a black manager isn’t a threat to your job due to the fact that you both come from the “same place.”

What are your thoughts on this phenomenon?

Since this will be an ongoing series, the comments will no doubt be brutal. But I urge all of you to speak honestly.

Posted in Racial injustice, Somethings wrong with the world and tagged , , , , , , ,
30 May 2012
56 Comments

Why I No Longer Keep White Friends

I grew up with diversity all around me. My first crush was on a Guyanese boy of Indian Descent. I had friends calling our house of all nationalities and races. I never knew the difference between them. I wasn’t raised that way. We were just kids going to the arcade to play Mrs. Pac-Man and Donkey Kong, listening to Michael Jackson’s new album, Bad, and trying to fit in. I never realized until I got older that white people were different from me.

I come from humble beginnings. We worked hard with no excuses. If you wanted to eat, you had to work. There were times when we struggled…and I mean hard…but God always provides for tomorrow. I learned at an early age from watching the one woman in my family who would serve as my ultimate inspiration, my mom. She was strong, capable, unyielding, tough as nails and loving to a fault. I, being a black woman, also had to be tough and determined. I too had to swallow bitter tears. No one was going to coddle me, protect me from the evils of the world, give me things I didn’t earn and make me feel as if I’m a precious specimen to be adored. I am black. I can’t afford to be naive.

When I entered high school, I began to befriend various white women. They flocked to me. In fact, EVERY relationship I had with a white girl, she was the instigator. She complimented me on my bone structure, my lips, my frame…the curliness of my hair, the softness of my skin…she wanted to know what foods I ate and what music I listened to. She inquired on where I’m from, on how I “spoke so well” and where I learned to speak proper English. She watched the way I walked, the way my lips moved when I spoke, the whiteness of my teeth against my skin and how she could tan “just like me.”

It never occurred to me to be offended…at all. I was young and never knew the difference. College was another story. I grew my hair long. Being of mixed ancestry from both parents but especially my mom and grandparents, my hair took on a beautiful wave when long. I was told that I had the kind of hair black women envied. I shrugged it off. I didn’t care, I had boys on the mind.

White boys began to notice me. A lot. Then my relationship with white women began to unravel. Suddenly, the smiles stopped and the scowls began. The compliments on the pretty blouse I had worn, turned into criticisms that I shopped at consignment stores. They eyed me suspiciously and made the most horrific remarks about how ugly all black women were. How fat, how smelly, how unkempt …and how no self-respecting white man would date, let alone marry, “one of us.”

Then came the job world where I would constantly be bombarded with stupid motherfucking questions about why blacks:

Dressed, ate, danced, fucked, talked and lived “the way they do.” But, you see, do not be offended because you’re not like the “rest of them.” Then the questions came about my:

Hair, clothing, skin, freckles, lips, buttocks, waist to hip ratio, nipple colour (in the RN’s locker room) and if black men’s penises were really that much bigger. But, you see, do not be offended because you’re not like the “rest of them.” Then the questions came on why blacks:

Are prone to raping people, killing people, fucking up their own neighbourhoods, stealing, doing drugs, joining a gang, spraying graffiti, being more racist than “any white person they’ve ever met” and just being a no-good, low down, dirty, rotten, stinking drain on society. But, you see, do not be offended because you’re not like the “rest of them.”

Then came the men…

Who would stare that cautious but lustful gaze riddled with guilt with comments on how he’d always wanted to “try a black girl to see if the rumours were true”. Who would have the expectation that because you are black, you’re not a REAL woman and should be used as an instrument of sexual relief for a hard day at work. Who would grow angry with righteous indignation that you would REJECT him due to the fact that you should be grateful that he even looked at you in the first place. Who would have the expectation that your complexion is an invitation for promiscuity because that’s what “pa said“.

So after explaining with great and excruciating detail on why blacks in AmeriKlan are scapegoats to keep the racial flames burning, after explaining that the term “African-American” or any other hyphenated ethnicity was a political tool to divide the nation and get more votes, after explaining that all people commit crimes but the media airs the black ones more frequently and at primetime between the hours of 4-9 pm due to Nielsen Ratings, after explaining to them that the concept of race is a white invention and no other species on earth does that, after explaining to them that the Department of Justice and the FBI embellishes their numbers to keep minorities at the bottom, after explaining to them that all politicians are bought and paid for by Wall Street, after explaining the history of slavery in this Puritanical country and having them nod and say “Ohhhhhhh….right, Ok….I see…yes, yes, yes” and then say the same stupid ass bullshit comments over and over again to my face with a smile…I finally said:

FUCK IT! I’m done!

Posted in No White Friends, Racial injustice, Somethings wrong with the world, The problem, White people, White Supremacy and tagged , , , , , ,
26 May 2012
22 Comments

Dear Diary #1

I got a phone call last night from X, a white ex-classmate of mine. I was surprised to hear from her. We weren’t that close. She told me that she found the piece of paper in her address book that had my number on it and she felt the urge to call me. I listened as she explained how she felt regarding an incident that had happened when we worked and studied together.

When we were students, we ended up in the same hospital for our clinical rotation. It was a monstrous hospital, ever growing and very hard to get into. She, being a blonde from Staten Island, fitted in nicely with the other girls who loved to talk about TV shows, waxing their eyebrows and dumb things their boyfriends did.

Me, being black, working class, from NYC, who prefered books to TV and never revealed anything too personal…well…you know the rest. To say I stuck out like a sore thumb was putting it mildly. There was a tension in the room at all times whenever I was present. I now know that the name of that tension is called, “White Anxiety“. There was this one Italian girl, let’s call her Y, who hated the sight of me. Y did everything in her power to fuck me up. From giving me wrong information about policies and procedures, banning me from entering the patient’s room( that’s how we learned pertinent exams…from observing ) and…finally, writing a letter to the administration team of my school, imploring them not to let me graduate. I was written, in great detail, to be: Absent( 2 times in my entire internship ), argumentative, defiant, slow, aggressive and as someone who will “never make it.”

I cried openly the day when I was summoned to the administrator’s office. School was expensive and we didn’t have the money to begin with. They wondered what had happened to cause this woman to say such atrocious things about my character especially when I had gotten good reviews everywhere else. I pondered the consequences of telling the truth. I lied. I said I don’t know. From the look on his face, I knew that he didn’t believe me. The thing that stuck out for me, was this girl X. The same girl who witnessed my pain and suffering but said nothing. She saw and heard…but turned the blind eye. I’m not mad. Her education and career was on the line too. As you can guess, I did graduate and eventually moved on to my career.

So…why the phone call from X? It was to tell me that the day she found my number on the crumpled piece of paper, guilt hit her and she couldn’t sleep. She explained how she wanted to say something in my defense but nerves and fear won out over doing the “right thing.” She said she was sorry for all the things that happened and wishes now, that she, a mother of a black boy and wife to a black man, had spoken out on racism in the workplace. She asked me to forgive her for something so potent, so dangerous yet so widespread…silence.

Sure, X. No problem. That was ages ago. But now that your eyes are finally opened…please…next time…speak.

Posted in Black women, Nasty Co-workers, Racial injustice, Somethings wrong with the world, White people and tagged , , ,

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