You’re all talking about this police brutality thing. But in reality, you’re all to blame for this. The NYPD risks their lives daily to protect us. But you’re throwing it in their face. Nobody, not any cop, just started shooting blacks out of nowhere. No. You guys gave them a reason to. You guys gave them a reason to fear for their own lives.
Me, a normal American teenager, appreciates what police officers do for us. I show them respect. If I’m pulled over I follow their instructions. If you have a weapon and the cop says “hands up,” you pick your freaking hands up. Respect what they’re doing. Respect their protection. Continue reading →
I can completely see how frustrating it is that there seems to be unnecessary police brutality towards black people. But you also need to look at it this way: Would the police arrest them and even go as far as killing them if they weren’t doing something bad? It tends to be black people who are doing a lot of murders and who are involved in gangs and gang violence. Don’t always assume that the police are just randomly attacking black people because they are black.
Another thing is that many people (white people included) are saying that white people have never suffered. THAT IS NOT TRUE. Sure, we have less history of slavery and prejudice against us, but believe me, we go through the same crap you do everyday! If you think that the only reason a black person can’t get a job is because the employer/interviewer is racist or white, YOU ARE WRONG. You have to earn a spot in the workplace, and maybe they just need to work a little harder! Continue reading →
Let me make something very clear about my position in America as a black woman, mother, and wife. I will not tolerate any unjust acts of violence against my family in ANY way, shape, or form. I have the right to bear arms, and I have vowed to protect my family and myself. Now if any man or woman, of any color or any position, should pose as a direct threat, please understand that I will not hesitate to defend my family. So before you pull me over, you better make sure that I broke the law. Because at this point, I will not give you a chance to harm me. I will shoot first because of the innate fear you’ve placed in the heart of the black family. Please believe, we won’t be a hashtag. I’m tired of peaceful protests, and I’m ready to take action.
I am sick and tired of the same narrative playing out over and over again across this country. A black person is killed over cigarettes, a bag of skittles, for selling CDs, etc., and the murderer walks. It grinds my gears that my father, a hardworking man who provides very well for his household, is followed home by the police because of the car he drives. They only leave him alone when the garage door opens up and they realize that he actually owns a home in that neighborhood.
It angers me that my two-year-old is growing up in a world where she can be roughed up or even killed for the most frivolous things. Things that would earn her white counterparts a slap on the wrist and not a bullet to the chest. And I am angry that I have to have true concern for my family. Especially my husband, father, brothers, uncles, and male cousins. I’m concerned for them day in and day out, in 2016, in America. I’m tried of the RIP hashtags, the pointless protests, and the destructive riots. I want people to be angry. And I want them to channel that anger into something that is conducive to true change.
I can’t believe you went back. I believe in love and making things work, but not when it comes to abuse. I would never encourage someone to make up with someone who was abusive. When I look at him, all I remember are the stories you told me. It’s like you created a monster and now you want me to pet it. It’s like you want me to pretend that he who was once a devil is now a saint. Pushing you down the stairs, punching you in the eye, and almost choking you to death. That’s a lot. More than I could ever forget.
I know God is real, and I know people can change, but some people you have to love from a distance. Baby daddy or not. I can’t keep up with the madness anymore, but do you. Do the family thing. I know that’s why you are fighting so hard. If something happens this time, don’t call me. Someone else can do CPR on your heart. Wolves in sheep’s clothing are just people who pretend well enough to get what they want. He’s pretended very well in the past. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I didn’t, and I never will. Continue reading →
I was your wife for almost fifteen years. Together we raised our boys and built a life that I THOUGHT was a happy one. I loved you with everything I had. Without even realizing it, I gave up my friends, my career, and even some of my family. You controlled EVERYTHING in our marriage and made ALL the decisions. You insisted that I quit my job, yet whenever I wanted something I was always told that we didn’t need it or that it was a waste of money. Meanwhile, you were able to buy anything you pleased. You valued the opinions of everyone else over mine. I was NEVER your first priority. Hell, most of the time I wasn’t your second or even your third priority for that matter.
You controlled who I talked to and where I went. Weeks went by where I didn’t even leave the house. And I was okay with all of that because it made you happy. For fifteen years I stood by you no matter what. No problem was big enough to break us because we’d face and conquer that s**t together. I remained loyal to you to a fault. When your own friends hit on me OVER and OVER again, I shut that s**t down, fast and in a hurry. I let them know from the start that they had no chance with me. YOU were my husband, and no one else could EVER come close. Continue reading →
For the longest time I thought that I loved you as more than a friend. And I was right about that, but not in the way that I thought. I loved you as an older brother and you could never see that. I’ve been there for you so much. Yet, you decide to stay in that same spot thinking that I’m the one who is so horrible. You think that I’m the one who made the problems or the mistakes, but it wasn’t just me, it was both of us.
I’ve been there for you, even though I’ve hated you through the times that we weren’t friends, or when you made me cry for not the best reasons. I was there when you tried to take your own life. Twice. And I might’ve called 911 the second time, but that was only because I cared. You couldn’t see that. I told your mom too. I’m so sick and tired of you putting me in a spot that hurts. Putting me in a spot where I have to deal with life or death. Putting me in a spot where I have to make sure you stay alive because I will fight with absolutely everything I have even if I end up losing in the end. Continue reading →
Why do you hate me so much? You’ve suddenly become so unkind, unwelcoming, cold, and distant. Yet, you won’t grow balls big enough to tell me what’s wrong. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I cherish you and our friendship very much. I thought you felt the same way. After all, you’ve told me that you cherish me many times. But now your actions say otherwise.
You snapped on me a little the last couple of times we talked. You’ve never done this in the past. That’s how I know something is wrong. It seems like you’re angry at me for some reason, and I can’t figure out why. If you’re afraid to tell me because you don’t want to hurt my feelings, then wake up. Your current cold behaviors are more offensive, and they’re also very hurtful. I’m not as resilient as you may think, and I am crumbling. Continue reading →
Thing is, I told you that I was afraid of the sex hurting. Truth is, I never was. What I was afraid of, was it all being a lie. What I was afraid of, was losing you again. What I was afraid of, was having to sleep while crying because you left. What I was afraid of, was you not caring about me anymore. What I was afraid of, was not getting to feel your lips against mine again. What I was afraid of, was not leaving my phone in hope of you remembering me. What I was afraid of, was you not calling me “mine,” “beautiful,” or “babe,” like you used to. What I was afraid of, was not getting to feel happiness any longer. What I was afraid of, was not feeling special. I was afraid of living the rest of my life in the land of memories. Although, most of all, I was afraid because I knew that the scar you would leave would never heal.
I have a terrible relationship with one of my siblings. I am the youngest. I have three older sisters and one brother. I have a great relationship with my brother and one of my sisters (1). Sister (2) and I have a decent relationship. There’s eleven months between us, so yeah, we get into fights, but we love each other. Sister (3) is eight years older than me, and she constantly bullied me throughout my childhood. Our relationship has been more than what would be considered as normal sibling scraps and bullying. She has continuously hit, kicked, pushed, and slapped me. This went on well into my teen years.
She’d abuse me for miniscule things that I mistakenly did. Like wearing a top that I thought belonged to sister 2. Mind you, sister 2 and I always shared clothing. She’d also abuse me if I took her dry clothes off the clothesline when I needed it, etc. She has also told me that I dress too slutty which is a complete lie. I’ve been uncomfortable with how I look since my pre-teen years all thanks to her. I always cover up due to her comments. Continue reading →