This morning I’m calling on any softness in the verb “deserve.” I believe public discussion of the feeling’s often hijacked, then weaponized in this country by influential racists, uterus-haters or capitalists. Most of us are just workers, customers unintentionally feeding the babies we were screwed for too much arsenic— power is always a key distinction. Stuck in my tenacious twenties, I’ve been making sales at a smoke shop for close to a year and a half now. At the seven-ish month mark of my time at Hookah Hookup, a sweet, white, 1996-born millennial was hired to sell for the company . . .
Advertisements are ramping up, words are becoming fiercer, and skeletons are coming out of candidates’ closets. This game is nothing new, yet we play it all the time. What does it mean to vote? What does the election spectacle do for us? Within a bourgeois fantasy, it is to elect a person who is totally accountable to the community they represent. I mean . . . this is the ideal, an ideal which has material consequences. The fantasies are, in some perverted way, a reality. The structures and institutions we all engage with organize around these principles rooted in anti-blackness . . .
They can no longer ignore theSound, so they send their stooges to look for its source. Agents search hillside slums filled with hopelessness, aggression, and bitterness. They come to eat black boys and classify all others collateral. They painstakingly search for a clue, but cannot find the DragonPart. The searchers hear theSound, but find no meaning in it. They don’t appreciate the whispers and screeches that make up the music. They are deaf to the harmony of the people’s striving, the tempo of the Dragon dance and the sweet sound of our song. For them theSound is noise, Dragonspeak is gibberish and . . .
We must take Africa back. We must have an African attitude. We come from Africa. Africa is the richest land in the world full of diamonds and gold and oil and apples and oranges and everything. The people are the most intelligent people in history. We built pyramids. We gave the world mathematics, science and so many deities and gods and what have you. We were an educational voice to the whole world, but we were invaded. We were invaded by the Arabs and we were invaded by the Europeans. They came to Africa and took our diamonds, our gold . . .
My body has been back in the United States of Amerikkka for three days, but it’s a shell housing a consciousness forever stuck there and then with them. Perhaps it’s a “blackened” consciousness, forever outside of time and place, which would explain why it feels like I’m out of time; matters are urgent. After being in Cuba, time, itself, passes differently—somehow slower yet faster, a cautious drag and then a rushed pull like a tug of war. Time now skips past me with its tongue stuck out and hands wagging at its ears like a teasing bully. I trace its . . .