diaryofanegress

Observations of an Invisible Woman

Archive for the tag “society”

Do Black Women Regret Motherhood?

{Copied from Isabella Dutton’s story on yahoo.}

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“My son Stuart was five days old when the realisation hit me like a physical blow: having a child had been the biggest mistake of my life.

Even now, 33 years on, I can still picture the scene: Stuart was asleep in his crib. He was due to be fed but hadn’t yet woken.

I heard him stir but as I looked at his round face on the brink of wakefulness, I felt no bond. No warm rush of maternal affection.

I felt completely detached from this alien being who had encroached upon my settled married life and changed it, irrevocably, for the worse.

Regrets: Isabella says she has always wished she never gave had Stuart (left) Jo (right), pictured here in 1986Regrets: Isabella says she has always wished she never had Stuart (left) Jo (right), pictured here in 1986. But although she had always wanted to remain childless, she approached motherhood with diligence and devotion

I was 22 when I had Stuart, who was a placid and biddable baby. So, no, my feelings were not sparked by tiredness, nor by post-natal depression or even a passing spell of baby blues.

Quite simply, I had always hated the idea of motherhood. In that instant, any lingering hope that becoming a mum would cure me of my antipathy was dispelled.

I remember asking myself, ‘Is he really mine?’ He could, quite literally, have been anyone’s baby. Had a kind stranger offered to adopt him at that moment, I would not have objected.

Still, I wished no harm on Stuart and invested every ounce of my energy in caring for him. Even so, I know my life would have been much happier and more fulfilled without children.

Two years and four months after Stuart was born, I had my daughter Jo. It may seem perverse that I had a second child in view of my aversion to them, but I believe it is utterly selfish to have an only one.

Isabella Dutton would have been happier not having childrenIsabella Dutton would have been happier not having children

I felt precisely the same indifference towards her as I had to Stuart, but I knew I would care for Jo to the best of my ability, and love her as I’d grown to love him.

Yet I dreaded her dependence; resented the time she would consume, and that like parasites, both my children would continue to take from me and give nothing meaningful back in return.

Whenever I’ve told friends I wished I’d never had them, they’ve gasped with shock. ‘You can’t mean that?’ But, of course, I do.

To some, my life before I had the children may have seemed humdrum and my job as a typist was, it’s true, not much of a career. So what was the great sacrifice, you might think?

What I valued most in my life was time on my own; to reflect, read and enjoy my own company and peace of mind. And suddenly that peace and solitude wasn’t there any more. There were two small interlopers intruding on it. And I’ve never got that peace back.

I don’t know why I feel as I do. I’m one of five siblings and was raised in a happy family by loving parents. Dad was in the Army; Mum, whom he met while posted in Germany, brought us up in the West Midlands.

Mum and I were close; even as an adult I could always confide in her. My childhood was very happy and conventional. Like most little girls I played with dolls. But I never recall a time when I wanted those make-believe games of motherhood to become a reality.

I know there are millions who will consider me heinously cold-blooded and unnatural, but I believe there will also be those who secretly feel the same.

It’s just that I have been honest – some may contend brutally so – and admitted to my true feelings. In doing so I have broken a supposedly inviolable law of nature. What kind of mother, after all, wishes she hadn’t had children?

I have never hidden the truth from my husband Tony, now 62.

Resentment: Isabella says her son Stuart was five days old when she realised having a child had been the biggest mistake of her life. 'I resented the time my children consumed. Like parasites, they took from me and didn't give back,' she saysResentment: Stuart was five days old when Isabella realised having a child had been the biggest mistake of her life. ‘I resented the time my children consumed. Like parasites, they took from me and didn’t give back’

From the moment we decided we would be spending the rest of our lives together, I confessed I didn’t want to start a family.

We were childhood sweethearts.  We met when I was 12 and he was 16; he was my first and only love. I was 19 when I walked up the aisle, a joyful bride anticipating a happy life with the man I adored.

But I knew even then children would be a sticking point. Tony wanted four. I didn’t want any. We’d discussed the subject and I believe he thought I’d change my mind.

I suppose he imagined, as my friends started having babies, the urge to become a mum would overwhelm me. I hoped he’d change his mind.

‘I resented the time my children consumed. Like parasites, they took from me and didn’t give back’

When we married, we bought the three-bedroom house in Coventry that remains our home today. Tony pursued his passion for sports; my interests were more insular. I loved knitting, dressmaking and reading, and joined a book club.

Tony worked then, as he still does, as a pattern maker in the car industry. I was a typist in an office for a telecoms company.

After a couple of years of marriage, Tony began to ask whether I was still adamant that I didn’t want children. In the end I relented because I loved him and felt it would be unfair of me to deny him the chance to be a dad.

But there were provisos: if I was going to have children I knew absolutely – illogical as it may seem in view of my feelings – that I intended to raise them myself without any help from nannies or childminders.

This wasn’t a way of assuaging my guilt, because I felt none. It was simply that, having brought them into the world, I would do my best for them.

I cannot understand mothers who insist they want children – especially those who undergo years of fertility treatment – then race back to work at the earliest opportunity after giving birth, leaving the vital job of caring for them to strangers.

Isabella holds Baby Jo and son Stuart in 1981 at ChristmasIsabella holds Baby Jo and son Stuart in 1981 at Christmas

Why have them at all if you don’t want to bring them up, or can’t afford to? And why pretend you wanted them if you have no intention of raising them? This hypocrisy is, in my view, far more pernicious and difficult to fathom than my own admission that my life would have been better without children.

And here, perhaps, is the nub of it: I would not take on the job of motherhood and do it half-heartedly. Unlike so many would-be mums I thought hard about the responsibilities of my role, and, I believe, if more women did before rushing heedlessly into it, they might share my reservations.

I was acutely aware that a child would usurp my independence and drain my finances. I felt no excitement as my due date approached. I had no compulsion to fill the nursery with toys, nor did I read parenting manuals or swap tips with friends. I focused on enjoying the last months of my freedom.

Tony and I had a strong marriage – after 37 years, we still do – and I did not dread the effect of the baby on our relationship. Sure enough, we maintained an active and fulfilling sex life and made a date night each Friday when Tony’s parents babysat.

However, I did dread the encroachment of this demanding little being on my own independence.
So, in May 1979, Stuart was born, blue in the face as the cord was wrapped round his neck. While other mothers would be frantic with worry, I remained calm when the doctor whisked him away. I sent Tony back to work and for the next four hours I waited without any apprehension.

'There is no doubt I grew to love Stuart very much, and indeed still do. But I wished I had never had him'‘There is no doubt I grew to love Stuart very much, and indeed still do. But I wished I had never had him’

I did not really think about Stuart at all, until Tony returned after work and asked where he was.
He was fine, of course, but when they wheeled him back into the ward I did not experience that sudden leap of the heart that new mums are expected to feel. Instead I sat down with a cup of tea and thought bleakly, ‘What have I done?’

Back home, I resolved to breastfeed. I knew it would be best for Stuart and I think every mother should do it. But even during this intimate act, that elusive bond failed to form.

Stuart fed voraciously, every two hours. He seemed almost permanently attached to me, but the proximity of this suckling infant did not make me feel maternal.

I never wanted to hurt Stuart – I only wanted him to prosper and thrive. There is no doubt I grew to love him very much, and indeed still do. But I always wished I had never had him.

I told Tony, but if he was concerned, he didn’t show it. He just said, ‘Well we have him now. There’s nothing we can do about it. You just have to get on with it as best you can.’

And that’s exactly what I did. I believe I was a good mum, but never a doting one. When Stuart was three weeks old, I pushed him in his pram to the shops for the first time with our red setter Amber in tow. Outside the baker’s I tethered the dog to the pram and left Stuart outside with Amber while I bought a loaf and cakes.

‘Young children prevent you from being spontaneous; every outing becomes an expedition. If you take your job as a parent seriously, you always put their needs before your own’

It was not until I got home, made myself a cup of tea and started eating my cake, that I realised something was amiss. My dog wasn’t there waiting for her usual titbit.

So the first thought that impinged on me was: where is Amber? I missed the dog before it even occurred to me that I’d left Stuart outside the shop.

I can’t say, even then, that I was worried. I just rang the baker to check Stuart and the dog were still outside, retrieved them and came home.

At the baby clinic, other mums compared their babies’ weight and boasted about milestones they’d reached, but I was not remotely interested in such inconsequential matters, so I only went to the clinic once. When people peered into Stuart’s pram to coo over him and tell me what a lovely little chap he was, I thought, ‘That’s not true.’ He was not a beautiful baby.

Meanwhile, Tony discharged his duties as a dad brilliantly. He helped with the nappies, bathed Stuart, and when we were out, it was Daddy he went to for comfort if he fell.

Then, when Stuart was 18 months, we planned the second baby I’d promised to have. But I felt no more thrilled by the prospect of becoming a mum again than I did first time around. When Jo was born in August 1981, I remember how joyously Tony and his family greeted the news that I’d had a little girl.

I did not share their jubilation. But there was nothing for it but to get on with the job of bringing her up.

I did this diligently, but it was Tony who was the effusive and demonstrative Dad.

'I am a conscientious parent - yet perhaps I would have resented my children less had I not been'‘I am a conscientious parent – yet perhaps I would have resented my children less had I not been’

He loved the children to distraction, and as soon as they were old enough, he took them to the sports club where Stuart became an accomplished footballer. Jo tagged along too and it became something of a joke that she even asked her dad to take her when she wanted to go to the loo.

We created a routine where I ran the home, and when Tony was off work he looked after the kids. And I jealously guarded my time free of the children.

On our summer holidays, Tony and I had our rigidly defined roles. I did not look after the children when he was around. So as they played football, sat glued to the Grand Prix or watched the golf, I would creep back to our chalet and immerse myself in a good book. Other mums were running around like headless chickens after their children, but in our household Tony took that role.

We shared many happy times together; I did everything a good mother is supposed to. We had bucket-and-spade holidays on the Isle of Wight; there were endless sports events in which the children shone. I’m sure they would agree that they always felt secure and loved.

It was not that I seethed each day with resentment towards my children; more that I felt oppressed by my constant responsibility for them. Young children prevent you from being spontaneous; every outing becomes an expedition. If you take your job as a parent seriously, you always put their needs before your own.

Having children consigns you to an endless existence of shelling out financially and emotionally, with little or no return. It puts a terrible strain on your marriage and is perennially exhausting. And your job is never done.

I know my life with Tony would have been so much happier without children, less complicated and more carefree.

I don’t believe either that Stuart or Jo sensed any coolness on my part, although Jo once said, ‘You never tell me you love me, Mum.’ And I didn’t, it’s true. But I reassured Jo that I did love her. She and Stuart just accepted that I wasn’t demonstrative.

They grew, too, into well-adjusted adults. Stuart, 33, works in telecoms engineering as a supervisor.

He is married to Lisa, 37, a bank supervisor, and they have two lovely children. But before Stuart announced that he was to become a dad, he asked me if I’d like to become a granny. And I told him quite emphatically that I wouldn’t: I didn’t want my new-found freedom to be usurped by years of babysitting.

My controversial views didn’t shock him. He has always known I am forthright; he knows, too, having got my two grandchildren, I would knuckle down to my grandmotherly duties and acquit myself well.

Jo, 31, shares my opinion about motherhood: she has never wanted children; perhaps my views have shaped hers.

It is her tragedy that eight years ago she developed multiple sclerosis and had to give up her job as a chef. She is now bed-bound and lives with Tony and me.

I am her full-time carer and if I could have MS instead of her, I gladly would. She knows I would do anything to relieve her suffering and that I will care for her as long as I am able. I am 57 now and as I approach old age, I have an ever-more dependent daughter.

Yet I would cut off my right arm if she or Stuart needed it.

And that, maybe, is the paradox….”

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2303588/The-mother-says-having-children-biggest-regret-life.html#ixzz2QBku1S2N

Black Family,

This story resonates with me. An ex-coworker, a black woman, told me pretty much the same thing. She gave up her career, which she LOVED, she lost her sex drive, she lost friends who “couldn’t understand” that she was too tired to hang out and perhaps most disheartening, her husband left the primary responsibility of child rearing on her.

“I feel like a single mom”, were her exact words.

Do you think black women are experiencing the same things? Regret over marriage and having children? Do you believe that’s why so many black females are single? Refusal to “settle”?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this provocative topic.

Black men, please chime in. I’d love your perspective.

Open Discussion #12

Guys, I won’t lie, I feel a little burnt out. This week, I shall be meditating in the sun, getting ready to start planting in the next 2-3 weeks, stocking up on food and water and supplies, reading a little Garvey and playing some Otis Redding. Up here, it’s getting very pretty and the deer are out and wandering around with their children. I have an almost irresistible urge to saunter up to one and pet it. But I digress…

My soul is in need of recharging since my visions have been coming almost every night. I’m not sleeping well and it’s entirely my fault. I begged and pleaded with The Holy Creator a few months ago to show me what will come…and boy did He ever! I think I’ll leave Him/Her alone now.

Enjoy this open thread while I “get it together.”

Aspartame: A Byproduct of White Greed

artificial sugar

Did you know that Aspartame was banned by the FDA twice? How is this product legal now?

The bittersweet argument over whether Aspartame is safe or not has been going on for a long time. On one side, we have medical evidence that suggests we should avoid using it and on the other side we lean on the FDA’s approval that suggests it is safe. Since generally that seems to be the factor that many continue to hold trust based upon, I thought we could look into the Aspartame story to find out how it came to be accepted as safe by the FDA. You would think that something so widely used and so well accepted would have quite the pristine story leading to its acceptance. I imagine one will discover otherwise after reading this post.

Aspartame

Aspartame

Aspartame

It all starts in the mid 1960′s with a company called G.D. Searle. One of their chemists accidentally creates aspartame while trying to create a cure for stomach ulcers. Searle decides to put aspartame through a testing process which eventually leads to its approval by the FDA. Not long after, serious health effects begin to arise and G.D. Searle comes under fire for their testing practices. It is revealed that the testing process of Aspartame was among the worst the investigators had ever seen and that in fact the product was unsafe for use. Aspartame triggers the first criminal investigation of a manufacturer put into place by the FDA in 1977. By 1980, the FDA bans aspartame from use after having 3 independent scientists study the sweetener. It was determined that one main health effects was that it had a high chance of inducing brain tumors. At this point it was clear that aspartame was not fit to be used in foods and banned is where it stayed, but not for long.

Early in 1981 Searle Chairman Donald Rumsfeld (who is a former Secretary of Defense.. surprise surprise) vowed to “call in his markers,” to get it approved. January 21, 1981, the day after Ronald Reagan’s inauguration, Searle took the steps to re-apply aspartame’s approval for use by the FDA. Ronald Reagan’s new FDA commissioner Arthur Hayes Hull, Jr., appointed a 5-person Scientific Commission to review the board of inquiry’s decision. It did not take long for the panel to decide 3-2 in favor of maintaining the ban of aspartame. Hull then decided to appoint a 6th member to the board, which created a tie in the voting, 3-3. Hull then decided to personally break the tie and approve aspartame for use. Hull later left the FDA under allegations of impropriety, served briefly as Provost at New York Medical College, and then took a position with Burston-Marsteller. Burstone-Marstella is the chief public relations firm for both Monsanto and GD Searle. Since that time he has never spoken publicly about aspartame.

It is clear to this point that if anything the safety of aspartame is incredibly shaky.  It has already been through a process of being banned and without the illegitimate un-banning of the product, it would not be being used today. Makes you wonder how much corruption and money was involved with names like Rumsfeld, Reagan and Hull involved so heavily. In 1985, Monsanto decides to purchase the aspartame patent from G.D. Searle. Remember that Arthur Hull now had the connection to Monsanto. Monsanto did not seem too concerned with the past challenges and ugly image aspartame had based on its past. I personally find this comical as Monsanto’s products are banned in many countries and of all companies to buy the product they seem to fit best as they are champions of producing incredibly unsafe and untested products and making sure they stay in the market place. { Copied from the truth about aspartame }

Black Family,

I’ve done my own digging into this substance and found that this “chemical” causes:

Blindness

Tinnitus

Confusion

Headaches

Hearing loss

Tremors

Depression and suicidal thoughts

Insomnia

Paralysis

Shortness of Breath

Bloody Stool

High Blood Pressure

Diabetes

Lupus

Alzheimer’s Disease

And Death!

In the wise words of Dr. Afrika, “Anything white is bad for the Afrikan.”

Dear Truthbetold Part 2

I was going to let this go. Honestly. I was getting ready for bed, winding down…and then I got this letter from my white reader.

“Honestly I believe this article is great. I truly believe more black people should be vocal and honest about their hate of white people. In this way whites can truly come together as a people and love each other again. I know too many loving white Christians who truly believe that god wants us to love each other equally, black or white, and live in harmony as one people. When I hear honest bigotry I’m happy because the loving and weak hearts that surround us can be silenced and replaced with the truth of hate. White people can finally truly come together cast off the bounds of acceptance.”

I laughed out loud and shook my head in disbelief when I read this comment. Then I quickly thought of a criticism I read once regarding the Jews:

People that suffer from persecution complex tend to believe that others are out to get or hurt them in some way. Their fears are utterly unfounded in reality and at times exaggerated paranoia and it reflects a belief that everyone has it in for them. Symptoms of persecution complex may be seen when the person interacts in normal ways and then over-reacts to perceived wrongs.

*sighs*

Can someone, anyone…please explain to me how a back-to-back post on black relationships, black dysfunction, black issues and black healing ended up being about white people’s feelings?

I’m confused.

The Biracial Fallacy

But why are people who are “half black and white” pushing for a biracial label? Many of them say they don’t want to choose sides and are tired of just being seen as black. ——–Ms. J

Biracial Mariah Carey

White supremacists, in their genius to keep darker peoples forever enslaved and subjugated, created a term roughly in 1924 via the Racial Integrity Act. This Act claimed that “one drop of Negro blood” in any person qualifies them as black. With a wave of their fountain pen, AmeriKlan’s founding fathers changed the way we would view and treat the citizens of this country FOREVER. The colloquial term would later change into the One Drop Rule. 

Under this evil system, which is still in place, many Coloureds of mixed race had no choice but to be black. Which means:

1. Sitting in the back of the bus

2. Segregated and inferior schools

3. Separate water fountains

4. Sterilization without consent (Thank you Ms. Sanger)

5. Lynchings

6. Living in the ghettos no matter what city, state or province

If you were light enough to “pass”

Carol Channing

Carly Simon

Heather Locklear

And moved far away where no one knew your family, you could slip into the much coveted spot called “white privilege”. In the 1970’s, the term “Hispanic” came into our social  and political construct as a way for Spanish-speaking Africans to distance themselves from Africa and assimilate, as best as they could by ways of complexion and hair texture, into whiteness.

Perhaps it was the mid 80’s to early 90’s when I became aware that numerous blacks who had a white parent or grandparent or even a mixed grandparent were now calling themselves “biracial or mixed.” I myself am an Island Creole but have never used the term mixed. With my caramel skin and corkscrew curls, I too could have easily deflected my roots and hid behind my European and Redman ancestors. But when I look in the mirror, all I see is Africa. So why the term “Biracial” and what does it really mean? And why should those of us that shout African Pride be offended?

My Supposition:

1. Blacks who use the term “biracial” are ashamed to be called black because of media propaganda and the stigma blackness carries. They’ve felt the sting of being ostracized by BOTH groups, stared at, oppressed, laughed at, their entire lives and feel as if they “don’t belong” anywhere. To deflect their sense of loneliness, they dilute any and all references to Africa as a way to connect with and assimilate into a “superior” race for privileges (which they will never have) and to created a “new race” where they do fit in…in their perception. 

Mr. Cablinasian and his new white squeeze

2. They are equally proud of their mixed ancestry and try to give respect to both.

3. They don’t want to “get involved” with the race issue, which will never go away, and use their mixed ancestry to sit on the fence and pretend that they are neutral.

4. They are white-identified via Stockholm Syndrome and hope that whites will feel less threatened by them and become their allies. This may also lead to job promotions.

Since we all know that only whiteness matters, the term biracial is but a political farce. History has proven that whiteness will created a buffer class of mulattoes/mestizos/ Afroasians to keep their foot on the necks of Originals and when their purpose has been fulfilled, they’ll be exterminated:

Mulattoes aka Italians

After physical slavery was “abolished”, did you know that Italians were captured, castrated and lynched by the very system that now offers them the gift of being white? Incredibly, they happily accepted the gift and have “forgotten” their tumultuous past with their Anglo-Saxon brethren. The same pattern goes for the Redman, especially the Cherokee Nation who fought for the Confederate Army and murdered, raped and enslaved many blacks only to end up as the victim of white racism themselves. In present times, we can see the Latinos and Asians following the exact same pattern.

How do you feel about the term biracial? What does it mean to you? And how will this terminology affect us in the future? And does it make you distrust biracials?

{Since this post will no doubt be inflammatory, all I ask is for a modicum of respect for all commenters}

The Sophisticated War on Blacks

Drone

First, I’d like to thank Kushite Prince for his awareness of the system that seeks our destruction. Thank you sir, for being on our side and sharing this with me.

Second, it is time that ALL OF US wake up and admit the truth that’s been staring us in the face for 500 years.

 

The European man, woman and child is our bitter enemy. They wish us dead. Why would the U.S. military create such a sophisticated device and program it in our neighbourhoods?

1. DNA samples will make it easier for Demons to create genetic-specific biological warfare! What does that mean? If they wanted to kill certain blacks that have, say, 60% melanin in their DNA, or perhaps a Rh- blood type weapon, or perhaps blacks that are descendants from the Congo, etc, this would make it easier for them to accomplish it. DNA-specific poison gas has ALREADY been created.

They also add chemicals in our food to:

a. create cancer

b. scramble your brain

c. promote aggression and fighting (they do this with chemtrails)

d. make you docile and compliant

e. kill you if they think you will put up a fight

2. They need our melanin to live:

https://diaryofanegress.com/2013/02/12/darkness-matters/

The Earth is making a “shift” this year. What does that mean exactly? I do not know. But…I do know that it has something to do with us and our level of consciousness and how it relates to our pineal glands.

3. They are terrified that that one black person, anyone, will lead a resistance. So they have to monitor us 24/7/365. Please know that:

a. ALL of you that participate in my blog or any other black awareness blog are being watched. CointelPro would not be on their job if they didn’t send spies or “shells” to infiltrate our schools, jobs and homes via telephone service workers, electric service workers or even the plumbing guy. Black men, CointelPro is infamous for sending “women that you like” meaning tall, buxom, blonde, short, dreadlock…whatever…to “be friendly” with you to gain information. Black women, this applies to you too. Be wary of an overly friendly man who seems too good to be true.

b. Your cell phones are GPS trackers and can be activated remotely. Take the battery out of your phone if you wish to speak privately.

c. Every purchase you make via credit card is being tracked. They are looking for clues that you may be making homemade weapons to fight them. How to fight this? Withdraw your money from the bank and use CASH only to pay for “certain items.”

d. And lastly but most importantly, remember that our beloved leader Marcus Garvey was duped and set up by his right hand man.

4. They observed our social practices/ cultural practices so they know when to strike, how to strike, what to do and how we’ll react. Those of us that are from other countries and love to go to that favorite cultural restaurant, store or hang-out spot like Brooklyn’s Flatbush area, Camden, Trenton or Philly’s south side, know that you are being watched. Money will turn friend against friend, family against family in the blink of an eye. Beware of new faces or anyone that seems too interested in being close to you.

The day is looming closer and closer to what these Demons have been waiting for all along: Our Final Solution. White people want you dead. Gone. Finished. Erased from the planet. You are no longer needed as a source of cheap labour. Accept it. Last year, my own kind berated me for telling the truth about the European man, woman and child. When are we going to wake up and admit that Demons walk the earth in human form? When we’re in the gas chamber? When our bodies are slowly decomposing by the side of the road? When it’s finally in our backyards? Time to open our eyes.

I have come to the painful conclusion that certain entities were put on this earth simply to destroy it and EVERYTHING in it. I no longer hide from the fact that Armageddon is a Spiritual war against Jah’s Originals. The past, our past, is not at rest. It never was. And it never will be as long as these beings exist. As society crumbles via the depreciation of the dollar and high food/ gas prices, EVERYONE will blame us. Why? Because the man in the white house looks like us. And because of social programming. We have no allies on this planet. Everyone will turn against us in the 11th hour. All we have is each other.

And finally…I’d to like to say something to the whites who are planning our demise:

While you make plans to kill The Creator’s Original Creation, The Universe, in her Almighty power and glory, is making plans for you.

The Igbo’s of Nigeria

Igbo Village

Igbo man with religious scarification

My quest for self-discovery lead me to south-eastern Nigeria. We are Igbo, a branch of the Niger/ Congo family. The Igbo may be grouped into the following main cultural divisions: northern (Onitsha), southern (Owerri), western (Ika), eastern (Cross River), and northeastern (Abakaliki). Before European colonization, the Igbo were not united as a single people but lived in autonomous local communities. Most of them were carpenters and farmers growing crops designated to them by gender. The men were responsible for yams and the women were responsible for cassava, pumpkins and peppers. Did you know that the Igbo’s are one of the largest distributors of palm oil?

Land is owned communally and crops are shared amongst everyone with their village. Igbo’s believe in an Almighty Creator which they call, Chukwu, and his female companion, Ala the Earth Goddess, who sends Spiritual descendants to protect and watch over the living. Many of them now practice some form of Christianity although there is a sect of Hebrew Israelites who claim ancestry to the son of Jacob. They worship in synagogues and speak “Original Hebrew”, their Mother Tongue.

In roughly the 17th-18th century, the Igbo’s were captured by the Portuguese and sent via slave ships to the many islands in the Caribbean and south America. Once there, they harvested crops and eventually married and spawned children with another indigenous group of Melaninated Peoples: The Arawak’s. From the islands, they were transported by Colon’s men to Maryland and Virginia to work in the cotton fields. A rebellious group, they fought back and often committed suicide in defiance of their condition.

Under the practice of polygamy many Igbo men have more than one wife. The general rule is to never marry a woman and spawn children that you cannot support. This involves providing farm plots to help the women and their dependents make a living. Beyond that unit is the extended family, consisting of all the sons in a family and their parents, wives, and unmarried daughters. The extended family may have anywhere from five to thirty members. Ideally, all of the members of the extended family live in one large compound.

Do you think you could have such a life? One rooted in polygamy?

Here are some Igbo words that we still use today in Creole (island and Louisiana/ Southern states) or Ameriklan Black English:

Ama/ Ima = I’m gonna or I am. “Ama go to the market.”

Redbone = A light skinned person. ” I only like redboned women.”

Okwuru = Okra. The vegetable that makes Gumbo.

Unu = Y’all or You all. “Unu wait and see.” (Unu can also be traced to Yoruba)

When I discovered that a certain man I’m lusting after and I have the same lineage, I prayed that we were not related:

My future husband…if he’s not my cousin

Why The Black Male Must Assume His Role as Protector in the Fight for Black Liberation

As I walk down the street of my neighbourhood one day, I lock eyes with a tall, handsome black man walking with his white wife. His pants, low-slung around his buttocks and his extra-large sweatshirt and work boots gave his boyish good looks a menacing echo. He pulls her closer to him, wraps a protective arm around her waist and smiles cockily at me with beautiful white teeth as if to say, “Look what I have.” I know that smile. I’ve seen it a million times and, shockingly enough, I know why he made the gesture. The woman wore an air of arrogance about her. She too is in on the game. But for her, the ball is totally in her court. And she knows it.

Since the time of physical enslavement, the black man has been:

A stud, made to breed with any black female fecund…even his own daughter

Targeted for extermination by slave catchers…now called The Police

Dumbed down in school…if he even went to school

Experimented on and castrated

Denied proper wages to support his family…if he could find work at all

A drug pusher/ addict/ seller…Thank you CIA

A lusty, cocaine-sniffing rapist of white virginal flesh

And a killer of his own race…by ways of the FBI selling guns to young, disenfranchised men with nothing to lose.

Since writing my “Black Female Role” post, I’ve thought long and hard about what to say regarding my black man and his plight; And his plight is a delicate one. The black man, the other half of the black woman’s Spiritual complement, must resist temptation from the perils of a white dominated society where he is intentionally set up to fail and accept his role as a protector and educator of his black family unit.

Perhaps an overprotective mother and an absentee father is to blame. Perhaps it’s the white mis-education system that prepares him for prison. Perhaps it’s the drugs being administered to him in school that wets his appetite for illegal substances. Perhaps it’s the media’s depiction of him as a glorified, piece of chocolate flesh who fulfills carnal fantasies…or perhaps it’s his own disillusionment of what he’s supposed to be fighting for. The black male is born in a society trapped between wanting to be the man, husband, father and role model the Creator wants him to be and having to decide very early on in his life if those noble ambitions are worth dying for. The system and the Evil predators that formulate the system are deathly afraid of any black man who shows love for himself, love for his woman and love for his race. Add intelligence to the mix and he is automatically targeted for termination. That is why they have spent trillions of dollars turning his strength into feminine weakness via the introduction of homosexuality, his passion and fierceness into thuggery via criminality and his sexual virility into vanilla-flavoured debauchery by allowing him to indulge in destructive fantasies.

The black man, who was put on this earth for 2 reasons; to protect his most valuable asset, his woman; and to plant his seed to continue his genetic lineage, has been attacked, cajoled and removed so his task, if he chooses to accept it, is more difficult than ever. As the world awaits the black woman to rise up and assume her role, the black woman is also waiting for the black man to rise up and join her in their task for planetary leadership. She cannot be successful without his support, his love, his acceptance of her and his desire to protect her above and beyond anything else.

How can he accomplish this task?

By accepting who he is, why The Most High created him first as the Original Man and focusing his Spiritual energies on what he was made to do: Protect and love his black family by any means necessary.

Blacks and Health: A Natural Way to Heal #11

“Why should anyone die who has sage in their garden?”

Sage

That is the old adage I’ve heard for years.

Sage is apart of the mint family (yes!) and has about 900 different species to boast. The botanical name Salvia is from the Latin word  “to save or to heal,” as in the word “salvation.” Africans have associated sage with immortality since they learned the secrets of this plant. Since roughly the 5th century B.C., Africans have used sage for a myriad of holistic and Spiritual reasons. Early medicine doctors knew that this herb could also help prevent “spasms” in the abdomen, heart and uterus and was administered to females in puberty, childbirth and menopause.

Workers and farmers were given sage to chew on while they toiled in the hot sun as it contains a “cooling agent” called phytosterols. I grow sage annually and can’t wait to harvest its leaves for its distinct flavour. Aside from enhancing the flavour of my stews, which I cook year round, sage is magnificent for:

Drying up phlegm (mucus) in your bronchial tubes (respiratory infections)

Coughing (boil the leaves and use as a gargle)

Diarrhea

Excessive perspiration

Menstrual cramps

Weaning your baby off of breast milk (it dries up mother’s milk)

Dandruff (use the leaves for tea and rinse your hair with it)

Eczema

Psoriasis

Restores colour to gray hair

Ringworm

Bacterial infections in and outside of the body

Jellyfish and spider bites

Indigestion and gas/bloating

Anxiety and Depression

The list is endless! I buy my seeds from the nursery and grow a planter-full every single year. While I toil and dig up weeds, I pinch off a few leaves to help me cool down with a tall glass of water. Please rediscover the miracle of God’s Plants. Soon, the pharmacies will close to us and we will not have easy access to synthetic medicines.

Next Article: Tea Tree Oil

Why The Black Female is Our Last Hope For Black Liberation

“We need black women to take the lead…”   —– Jabari

I had a Spiritual awakening (yes, another one) last week. I saw our young black sisters wearing pants down to their waists, mimicking their boyfriends, and frankly, I became disgusted. I saw our sisters in Asian shops spending hundreds of dollars of rent money and food money for synthetic hair weaves and plastering ammonia and aluminum on their scalps to have the “nice hair” that will make their oppressors more comfortable. I saw our sisters in beauty shops allowing Korean women to pluck their eyebrows and attach fake, acrylic fingernails made with trace amounts of rat poison and manganese so they can have “pretty hands” because they are not happy with the hands that God gave them.

As I wandered around, I became more and more aware that the entire world is waiting for the true revolutionaries to step up to the plate and lead our revolution to freedom. The world is waiting for the one person whose strength and power is limitless. Whose love is so fierce that she will fight to the death for her family’s survival. The world is waiting for the Black Woman to realize her role in this Universe as the Earth Mother, the Creator of life and the knower and seer of all things. The Black Woman is the one who shall lead the masses.

And that’s why she is currently being destroyed.

I’ve advised you to study and understand European His-Story which is built ENTIRELY on the male principle of Yurugu. Inhale their military tactics. Study their xenophobia…even within their own clan. Understand why they are xenophobic. Study their ways of thinking and how they rise to power. Hitler made this excellent and truthful statement to one of his advisers:

“First You Get the Women, Then You’ve Got the Children, So Follow the
Men.

What is taking place in our black homes, black schools and black communities is just a facsimile of the past. Whites never change. Accept that as a fact. Stop making excuses for it. Stop looking for a “good white person” because they do not exist. All whites under their system of white supremacy have one interest only: Their own survival. Once you overstand that, then you will see that the black female is our last hope for survival.

Africans are the only true huemans on this planet. What does that mean? Simply, we have both the male and female principle that lives in all of us. That is why we can be harsh yet loving. Tough yet understanding. Swift yet forgiving. Aggressive and merciless yet soft and yielding. We are nature and soil and air and all other elements that make this planet alive. But…only the female can give life. That makes her and her alone the dominant principle. Evil knows that once the black female has been lead astray from her black man and her black family, all hopes of redemption and survival is lost. That is why she is currently being pushed through the media to date, fornicate and marry out of her race. That is why her natural looks, hair, lips, body type and colouring are under relentless attack. That is why she is being encouraged to abort her baby. Have you ever wondered why when a white woman is pregnant, not only is her pregnancy celebrated but she is revered to the highest degree of womanhood?

Open your eyes.

The black female is demoralized into being a subhuman, sexualized figure. Hitting her is encouraged. Masculinizing her is pushed through “black feminism”, which is rooted is Jewry. That is why she is being given employment opportunities and educational opportunities that were once designed for men. That is why she is being brainwashed to hate her man, her family and herself. And that is why she now sees the white man as her “intellectual partner and saviour.”

Once she has given up and begins to see the black man as her enemy, the black race will be exterminated. This is, of course, all apart of The Plan. What plan is that?

Eugenics.

Black Quotations

Dear Family,

I am writing this post to ask you for a favour.

Please contemplate an original saying or thought.

It must be:

Black oriented

Must appeal to our struggles

Must appeal to our heritage/tribe/clan

Must be have real meaning with no “catchy” phrases

Can be religious or Spiritual or Shamanistic

 

It cannot be:

From MLK.

From Malcolm X.

From Amos.

From Clarke.

From Welsing.

From Fuller.

Or any other black scholar.

It must be yours and your alone.

Why am I asking for this?

You’ll see…

I hope you’ll participate in this exercise. You’re going to love the results when I’m done.

 

Desperately Seeking Metatron

Metatron’s Cube

Reading the Talmud (some of it…I never got past the incest, pedophilia and phallic worship) has given me great insight.

Since learning that the Khazars converted to Judaism roughly in 7th century and have NO blood ties to the Son of David, I felt compelled to know who they were praying to. The Talmud lead me to Metatron:

*********************************************************************

Spiritual rocking is the ability to communicate with spirits by way of rocking back and forth. It is the simplest technique in spiritual awareness. No real focus is needed, all you do is to stand up in the middle of a room with your hands by your side and relax your body. Then in your own time, close your eyes and ask if your spiritual guide is there. You may feel a sensation around your hands. This is natural. With this technique, there is no telepathy so you can only ask questions with yes and no answers. If a spirit answers with no to a question, your body will rock from side to side. If a spirit answers with yes to a question, your body will rock back and forth in motion. When you have finished working with your guides, thank them for their time and bid them good day.

The myths of Metatron are extremely complicated, and at least two separate versions exist. The first version states he came into being when God created the world and immediately assumed his many responsibilities. The second claims that he was first a human named Enoch, a pious, good man who had ascended to Heaven a few times, and eventually was transformed into a fiery angel. Some later books adopt the first version, some the second, and in other literature, both are combined.

There are even two versions of the name Metatron, one spelled with seven letters, the other with six, lacking the Hebrew letter “yod.” The Kabbalists, Jewish Mysticists, explained that the six-letter name represents the Enoch-related Metatron, while the seven-letter name refers to the primordial Metatron. Despite the elaborate debate, the origin of Metatron’s name is not clear. Many attempts have been made to explain it, but none of them is satisfactory, since the word has no real meaning or root in any language. Some authors think it may be derived from private meditations and visions, or even glossolalia. This article concentrates on the Metatron-Enoch version

Metatron is one of the most important angels in the heavenly hierarchy. He is a member of a special group that is permitted to look at God’s countenance, an honor most angels do not share. In the literature, Metatron is often referred to as “the Prince of the Countenance.”

In the Babylonian Talmud, Metatron is mentioned only three times, but the references are important. All three relate to the problem of Metatron’s immense power, which may have caused some people to confuse him with God. In later literature he was even mentioned as the “lesser Yahweh” — a serious blasphemy for the strictly Monotheistic Judaism. Later, some authors tried to resolve the issue by showing how the Hebrew letters of the name of a mythical predecessor, the angel Yahoel (later to be entirely identified with Metatron), were the same letters as those in the name of Yahweh.

Another legend states that God himself named him so, out of affection. A fascinating legend tells of a particularly interesting and famous Jewish heretic, Elisha ben Avuyah, who saw Metatron sitting by God’s side, occupying the same type of throne. This made Elisha suspect that two equal powers operated in the universe — God and Metatron. The legend continues to explain that he made a false assumption, which indeed cost Elisha his position within the Jewish community. According to these scholars, God permitted Metatron to sit because, as God’s scribe, he recorded the good deeds of the Nation of Israel. This story works very well with two of Metatron’s many heavenly tasks: a scribe and an advocate, defending the Nation of Israel in the heavenly court.

Enoch, a pious teacher, scribe and leader of his people, is famed for the part he took in the tragedy of the fallen angels (see Watchers). Living during a time of great sins, around the flood, he had visited Heaven more than once. However, the time was ripe for a most significant trip. One night, two angels woke him up and commanded him to prepare for his journey.

They took him on their wings, and showed him all the Heavens and their inhabitants, including a side trip to Paradise and to the place of punishment and torture of the sinners, which strangely enough was located not too far from paradise. He observed the activity of the sun and the moon, and made a visit of consolation to rebellious angels, the Grigori, succeeding in bringing them closer to God. After the tour, the great Angels Gabriel and Michael lead him straight to God’s Throne.

Sitting next to God, Enoch was instructed in wisdom, and using his skills as a scribe, prepared three hundred and sixty-six books. When he learned everything, a most significant thing happened. God revealed to him great secrets — some of which are even kept secret from the angels! These included the secrets of Creation, the duration of time the world will survive, and what will happen after its demise. At the end of these discussions, Enoch returned to earth for a limited time, to instruct everyone, including his sons, in all he learned. After thirty days, the angels returned him to Heaven.

And then the divine transformation took place. Additional wisdom and spiritual qualities caused Enoch’s height and breadth to become equal to the height and breadth of the earth. God attached thirty-six wings to his body, and gave him three hundred and sixty-five eyes, each as bright as the sun. His body turned into celestial fire — flesh, veins, bones, hair, all metamorphosed to glorious flame. Sparks emanated from him, and storms, whirlwind, and thunder encircled his form. The angels dressed him in magnificent garments, including a crown, and arranged his throne. A heavenly herald proclaimed that from then on his name would no longer be Enoch, but Metatron, and that all angels must obey him, as second only to God.

—– An excerpt taken from “Metatron’s Cube”

Black Family, since we are all on a journey to learn and overstand our physical and mental prisons, allow me to ask you this question:

Who is Metatron and why is His origin so complicated?

The Niggerization of the Negro

“Truth, have you noticed that our people have gotten worse in the last 20 years?” I stopped sipping my tea and listened to X, my older, conscious friend. “I mean, we’ve dissolved into debauchery in a way that I’ve never seen before and I grew up in the time of ‘Free Love’!”. I thought carefully about my answer, “In what way?”

“Well, we seem to only care about fame, sex and getting money. Our children are taking pills prescribed by the school principal, our girls are identifying with rappers and strippers and our boys are growing up with no respect for women, no respect for God and no respect for themselves. We’ve got schools where our children can choose to be male or female, we have no fresh produce, a McDonald’s on every corner, we’re fatter than ever and the worst part is…we don’t seem to care. We’re falling fast. And I’m scared…Look, all I’m saying is black people are gonna die if we don’t change quick.”

I was quiet as my friend ranted her anguish at our people slipping gladly into the belly of the beast. I wanted to comfort her but even one comment about how “we’re getting better” would be a boldface lie. I too have seen my fair share of our girls wearing next to nothing in the streets, our boys sporting pants that show off the top of their buttocks, gangsta rap about raping 13 year old children and our resistance to anyone that dares to point us in the right direction.

Once upon a time, at least to my memory, being black stood for something. It meant something:

Black Solidarity

You weren’t just a colour, you were a direct extension of God. An Original Human. The First Human. You were proud. Almost defiant and ready to defend your blackness. You couldn’t explain it, but you sensed being black was almost a purpose.

Now….

Nicki Minaj

Our entire struggle has backslid into a symphony of slackness. And, perhaps the scariest thing for me is…We seem to enjoy it. And we’re teaching our children to enjoy it. And their children will continue that circle of spiritual defeat until we are no more. I wonder what will become of God’s People? Will we magically rise up one day and exclaim, “Oh my gosh! I’ve been living my life all wrong. I see that now. I must begin my journey of self-discovery before it’s too late.” Or will we continue our cycle of infectious indoctrination and slowly perish?

Let me ask my readers, honestly…what happened to us? How did we go from Black Pride to Worship of Mammon?

Open Discussion #9

This arrived in my mailbox.

HI invisible women. Let me put this clear to you. Racist both white and black racist people are usually dumb. Im surprised that everything you said in your post is absolute bullshit. I was like , will she say one thing that makes sense and is correct. Guess what you disappointed me because everything you said is complete crap and there is no truth to it at all. We should work on fixinf problems with rascism and not spreading them like you. But guess what. White woman are the most beautiful woman on earth and I bet you feel that way to so you take your frustration out on the internet. Most black people are waaaaay to stupid to accomplish anything out of value but you have some smart black people. YOU WISH TO BE WHITE AND IT`s obvious. I almost feel sorry for you but I dont. You said that white people are trying to be black, guess what. That happens one in a million while the opposite is one in one hundred people. SO

FUCK YOU cunt!

if you were amrt at all you would LOOK AT WHAT THE JEWS does. But ohhh too bad YOU`RE STUPID!

Dear white people,

Ever since I opened my little shop, you’ve been craaaaazy, ain’t ya? Keep the insults coming. You are motivating me to succeed more than I can ever tell you. At this rate, I’ll open 2 shops just to piss you off. By the way, please continue to show my black family who you truly are. In the words of The Hon. Elijah Muhammad:

“I don’t have to convince you the white man is the Devil. He will convince you of that himself.”

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.

The Historical Effeminization of The Black Male

African Eunuch

eunuch is a man who has been castrated. Typically, this procedure occurs early enough in his life, say before puberty, for this change to have major hormonal  consequences. Castration was typically carried out on the soon-to-be eunuch without his consent so that he might perform a specific social function. That function was to be an asexual, non-threatening guard to the King’s Harem of Concubines.

{Castration tools}

Many eunuchs were African slaves who were caught, groomed and effeminized by wearing feminine clothes, make-up, perfume and jewelry in order to make them reliable servants of the royal court…without the sexual threat of taking the King’s women. The role of the castrated African man was not just to keep other men at bay, but to make the King’s bed, bathe him, dress him and cut his hair. In short, the black man’s role was to be but a lowly servant to protect the interest of the white supremacist.

Today, in modern times, we have many eunuchs.

Tyler Perry

Lee Daniels

Farnsworth, P Diddy’s Eunuch

These wealthy black men were given wealth by their masters for 4 reasons:

1. To be as non-threatening as possible to the system of racism.

2. To protect the interest of white, Jewish-ruled Hollywood.

3. To never fornicate with or created “dark-skinned” children with white women.

4. To never create black life with a black female.

The system of white supremacy has taught me that no strong, noble, intelligent, race-conscious black man will ever be famous or idolized. Especially if he has a noble, intelligent, race-conscious black woman by his side. These men were given the ultimate gift for their non-threatening stature and their allegiance to the system of white supremacy:

Success.

Last night, I did something I seldom do: I turned on the tel-lie-vision. As per Mr. Fuller’s advice, I took a deep breath, dusted off my remote control and pressed the magic button. I do not know what station was playing as I don’t have cable TV. I immediately saw beautiful people everywhere. Long flowing hair, perfect abdomens, glistening teeth and upscale houses. Then, the camera centered around the lone black male character. He was beautifully dressed…even in his own house.

I took special notice of how he hanged on to the every word of the white characters, never leading his own line of dialogue, just kind of hanging on. Then the camera zoomed up close to his perfect, model-features and impossibly long eyelashes. His eyes gave it away. He was soft. There was no inkling of a strong, fierce black man in his gaze. Just the look in his eyes told me that he was just another eunuch…in really expensive designer jeans.

Once I took a step back and looked carefully at the barrage of black males that are “successful”, I saw a startling pattern of events. Everywhere that I looked, black males were on the verge of being castrated/ already castrated but didn’t know it:

Cleveland Brown

The system of white supremacy, of course, will deny this but this cunning turn of events is really just another way of exercising their centuries old plan. What is the name of the plan?

Eugenics.

Open Discussion #7

Have something on your minds?

Talk away…

Are Blacks U. S. Citizens?

Indigenous Americans

I had the most awe-inspiring conversation with my very good blogger-buddy the other day. He stated with utmost certainty that Black AmeriKlans are NOT U.S. citizens. The comment caught me off guard. I allowed him to speak his mind about this controversial topic and he said a mouthful!

So now I shall ask you the burning question:

Are black Ameriklans citizens? 

Introducing Jaszmine Hawkins: Urban Artist

Sexy Woman

Sexy Woman

Urban Butterfly

Urban Butterfly

Topless Beauty

Topless Beauty

Femme Fatale

Femme Fatale

Hairless Beauty

Hairless Beauty

Like what you see?

In my attempt to combat white supremacy, I shall do the exact opposite of what we’ve been taught: Promote black businesses, artists, writers and entrepreneurs. 

I’ve been following this very talented young woman from my former home state of New Jersey and I feel she deserves to be the first person I promote. Jaszmine Hawkins, with a wave of her brush and marker, has given the black community a glimpse into her soul. Focusing on our most sought after asset, Our Lips, she creates eye-popping, colourful expressions of Black Beauty. Her artwork graces the walls of dozens of black homes in the New York and New Jersey area.

My personal favourite, The Dreadlock Man:

29966_10150200663175650_2932900_n

Flew out of her hands the moment the paint dried. She is now in the process of creating new expressions of African art.

Please support her efforts as an Urban Artist and spread the word!

You can purchase her artistry at: jaszminehawkins@gmail.com. Send her an email with your request and she’ll be more than happy to assist you.

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.

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