Cult of Personality

“You’re in sin when you don’t listen to the man of God. I’m your shepherd,” my pastor shouted. His piercing words and indignant expression were difficult to misinterpret. His unjustified anger and narcissism led him to believe every word he spoke was ordained by God himself. “lf you disagree with me, you’re disagreeing with God!” The feedback from the mic almost resembled the sound of a lightsaber. He’d just unclipped a red lightsaber from his waist holster seeking to destroy the Jedi as he peered around the sanctuary. Well, that’s how it felt at least. That’s about all I remembered from that particular Sunday. It was just like all the others that came before it. With my cell phone slung low between my legs, I often surfed the web to thwart my growing disinterest.

My relationship with the church and religion as a whole had been a rocky one. I’ve questioned my faith and God himself more times than I’d care to admit. Most people who’d known me most of my life would have easily considered me a church boy who could do no wrong, but little did they know I struggled to find happiness in the faith.

Honesty eluded me for years as I went through the motions. The constant cycle of guilt and zeal eventually seized my wavering faith. My identity was wrapped in the church; my dearest friendships were cultivated in the church. Debates about doctrine often lead to arguments. Could I share what I’ve been feeling? Perhaps not. It’s difficult for people to accept others' points of view. There’s a unique arrogance that oozes from people in the church. Their entitlement prevents honest discourse. From diapers to manhood, my life was deeply entrenched in the church. My father preached the gospel although he lived a double life. I often wonder if those who teach and preach the word believe themselves.

Have you ever found yourself questioning what you truly believe? I’m no longer afraid of the unknown. There are more questions than answers and that’s okay. Don’t fear condemnation fanned by haughty individuals who believe they’ve got all the answers. This journey of faith is a complicated one. I’m still figuring out what it all means.

America’s Sin

We were five miles away. My anticipation grew as the city drew near. I’d never been there before; I didn’t know what to expect. Distracted by my gnawing uneasiness, I hadn’t noticed the change in scenery. For hours as far as the eye could see, the wide open midwestern plains had once made its presence known. I exited the freeway toward downtown Tulsa, Oklahoma. That city, oh that city, was full of rich Black history, triumph, and sorrow. Tulsa was a stark reminder of one of America’s sins— a sin it had conveniently ignored.

Walking through Greenwood was both surreal and gut-wrenching. Soulful murals and carefully placed monuments reminded all never to forget the massacre that took place in the spring of 1921. Remnants of that fateful day, hidden in plain sight, stood unbothered as America vehemently refused to right its wrongs. The destruction of Black Wall Street was one of many sins committed against Black people. I could feel the presence of the ancestors as I imagined living in the community. To be surrounded by successful Black businesses, beautiful homes, and families who’d finally felt at peace as their dream of living without fear had been realized would’ve been invigorating.

Angry whites who lusted after Black death and destruction, determined to halt this renaissance of Black prosperity and progression, murdered without repentance. Bullets rained down from prop duster aircraft. The streets were overrun with savages who had one thing on their mind. The stench of death filled the air as chaos ensued. Dead bodies filled the street. Children screamed as they ran with their parents searching for cover as shotgun shells clanged against the pavement. Black men and women grabbed their weapons as they fought to protect their families, homes, and businesses. I stepped into the past and asked myself what I’d do if I were there. I could not fathom such a day; my heart ached.

On Wednesday, June 12th, the Oklahoma Supreme Court dismissed a lawsuit filed by the survivors of the Tulsa Massacre. Although I felt angry, I knew nothing would come of it. America will never reach its truest potential until it deals with the past accordingly. They use legality to avoid taking responsibility. How can the nation parade itself as a symbol of freedom, justice, and hope? The Tulsa race massacre survivors and their families deserve better.

Self-Love Chronicles

You heard what they said. How could you forget? Those painful nasty words cut you deeply. “It’s just a joke,” they say conveniently. You take things too personally. You’re just imagining things. Sound familiar? You heard the snide remarks that were camouflaged as unsolicited advice. Their muffled laughter when you were down was undeniable. Your mistakes and missteps were the topic of brunch conversations. Your brightest moments were met with one-word emotionless halfcocked congratulatory texts. Whispers in the dark always seem to find their way back. They laughed nervously when you confronted them. They’re still around because it’s hard to let go of people who aren’t good for you and your mental health.

How do you find the courage to let go of people who continually gnaw at your self-worth? Damaging words have consequences, or at least they should. Setting and enforcing boundaries is an intimate act of self-love. Without boundaries, we’re just floating in the wind accepting whatever blows our way. You’re worth more than that. People who continually push the envelope should no longer have access to you. You know who they are.

A few years ago, I discovered a distant family member had made unsavory comments about me and my family. This person had a history of propping themselves up as a perpetual victim. If it weren’t about them they just simply weren’t happy or didn’t care at all. Often they were the author of confusion and confronting them usually made matters worse. I’ve helped this person out more times than I can count. It was exhausting maintaining a relationship with a person who only thought about themselves. Loving from a distance is an act of self-love as well.

Embrace the people in your life that continually show up. Water the relationships that bring out the best in you. May we each find the courage to protect our self-worth and energy this year. Self-love isn’t a fancy cliché it is a way of life.

Digging Deep Within: An Essay

I’ve been thinking a lot about my life as I do my best to prepare for the gift of fatherhood. As I sit here at my writing desk in the quiet of dawn, I’m processing my journey thus far. My life is beautiful today, but that certainly wasn’t always the case. There were some tough days along the way that I still think about from time to time. It’s interesting how such a joyous occasion could evoke such emotion.

For years I made excuses for the people I loved, even those who perpetually hurt me without remorse or an ounce of consideration. My church preached love without boundaries, reckless forgiveness, and reconciliation at the expense of your own well-being. I built my foundation on these damning principles. I thought it was my job to fix people. I shared the burden of my parents’ missteps. On the surface, it was hard to see they’d lost their way. The multiple evictions, fighting, and accusations of cheating rocked my family. When their toxicity finally bubbled to the surface, my world completely crumbled.

There wasn’t accountability, there was blaming. They fought each other with cannonballs as my sister and I watched from the battle-torn trenches. Caught in the crosshairs of their dysfunction, I felt powerless. Stone by stone, the walls of Jericho fell and all they could think about was themselves. My parents could no longer hide behind their thin veil of perfection.

What do you do when the very people who were supposed to protect you were also turning your life upside down? I vividly remember the pain I felt during our first eviction. I was in high school at the time. We were angrily told to get over it. My sister and I became the collateral damage in their shock and awe campaign. We hotel-hopped, moved around, and struggled to find our footing for years. The truth was buried in a minefield. Trust was breached forever. We were children living in a web of confusion that our parents created. They considered themselves victims in an ugly world, but who really suffered?

While I have consciously made the choice to forgive my parents, I have not forgotten. When I became a man, I confronted them about the hurtful things they’d done. For my own sake, I had to talk to them about it. They never took ownership, but this was the beginning of creating boundaries. Although you move on in life, you never forget. It’s time to start holding the people we love accountable. Enforcing boundaries is the ultimate act of self-love. Boundaries are everything to me.

As the man of my home, I don’t allow venomous energy to enter my home. We close the door on it. If I can’t trust you, we can’t have a relationship. If boundaries are violated there’s nothing left. If you perpetually curate confusion, I cannot build with you. I learned early that some of the most hurtful people can be some of the closest people to you. Perhaps you can relate? Maybe you’re experiencing this today. There’s hope. When I was a young man, I endured. Today, I’ve taken the power back. I’m reclaiming my time and you can too. The beauty in all this is we get to eventually create our own path. We have the power to choose who we will allow into our lives, and how beautiful our lives will become.

I Chose Grace

As the year comes to an emphatic close, I find myself at peace. This peace wasn’t the result of everything going according to plan, or everything working out the way I’d hoped. I’ll be the first to tell you I didn’t accomplish all of the lofty goals I’d set for myself at the beginning of this year. In fact, many of these goals are staring up at me from the inside of my journal reminding me of my humanity as I write this essay. If I judged myself purely on my accomplishments this year, It would be easy for me to admit I fell short.

This piece today isn’t a celebratory lap in the traditional sense. You won’t find any gloating about accomplishments. This piece today is about finding peace in the midst of unfinished business. This composition is about loving yourself right where you are, just as you are despite whether you moved the needle or not. I understand how difficult it is to cut yourself slack. You won’t ever be happy being hard on yourself.

This year, I chose grace. Extending grace to myself was one of the most beautiful gifts I could have ever given myself— it’s one of the most beautiful gifts you can give yourself as you take personal inventory. I found immense peace inside of this grace and it’s my hope that you will too. It’s liberating.

When you think back on this year I don’t want you to spend too much energy focusing on what’s left on the table. Like I always say, the manifestation of greatness takes time. Becoming the best version of yourself takes time. You will reach your promised land if you keep moving forward. Relish the moments you made yourself smile. Think of the small steps forward that made you proud. Think of the little victories that fed your confidence. Think of the moments that made your heart flutter with love. Relish the moments that made you believe in yourself again. As you begin thinking about next year, I want you to put a bigger emphasis on yourself. Choose to be kind to yourself as you bloom.

America Without Black People

After hundreds of years of enslavement, exploitation, and undermining in America, we as Black people find ourselves at an interesting place in history. It’s apparently clear where the line in the sand has been drawn despite America’s identity crisis. We’ve been sold America is this proverbial melting pot of happiness and opportunity for all if you’re willing to put in the work. All people are not afforded these “opportunities.” In fact, Black people have often been reduced to grotesque caricatures and subjects of intentionally skewed statistics based on white lies, white delusions of grandeur, and white self-righteousness. Our oppression is not a fallacy or an excuse. The truth is met with opposition when it doesn’t promote their version of reality. “All you do is talk about race,” they say when the pressure is on. “Black people just want someone to blame for their problems.” I’ve heard it all before. Anti-Blackness is widely accepted and doesn’t appear to be going away anytime soon. In spite of our challenges, we continue to rise.

As a Black man who has been able to appreciate a level of success, I still find myself being pressured to explain how and why I’ve been able to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor as if Black people aren’t supposed to have anything. Odd stares and awkward moments when I answer the door to my home are constant reminders of just how badly the scales have been tipped. I can’t help but laugh at the egregiousness of it all. With that being said, I’ve pondered what would become of America if Black people collectively decided to leave and never return.

While I understand this would never happen, I must be honest I’m intrigued by the thought. Would the nation descend into chaos? Would America be faced with an existential crisis? Who would be the face of the faux “inner city” per capita crime statistics? Where would their red herrings be perched? Without our people and our contributions to society, what would be left? Who would we become as a people if we stopped playing their game, essentially taking the ball and going home? That is the real question here.

Let the truth be known, America is and would be absolutely nothing without Black people. Appreciating and recognizing the importance of Black folks does not diminish other groups of people. While many seek to virtue signal and change the narrative when we seek to understand our history, I’m encouraged by many who are standing up to the double standard. When America decides to adequately address and take accountability for its sin against Black people, only then may we begin to see real progress.

Letting Love Lead the Way

The text message failed again; the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. The number hadn’t been in service for years. I found myself staring down at the phone as if it were not true. Of course, it was true. I wanted to trade the truth for a lie. My heart was exposed. She was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. Grief can easily alter the trajectory of the most well-intentioned day, and for me that day it did.

They said time healed all wounds, but what if time stood still? What if the past was too beautiful to let go of? I stayed to myself and pushed away the very people who wanted to be there for me. I still regret my actions to this day. Love was met with a stone wall. There was a coldness about me that I didn’t recognize. I was far too tough to let people in, even those closest to me.

I’d sit in the dark for hours just thinking of how just one word from my mother could wake me up from the nightmare. She was fine just months earlier, how could this possibly be the story of my life? Mothers weren’t supposed to die before their son’s thirtieth birthday. Mothers weren’t supposed to die before holding their grandchildren. The reality was a painful pill to swallow.

Today, I’m at peace. It took me some time to get there, but I’m thankful. I had to talk to someone; I couldn’t do it on my own. I’m writing this piece today to those who are dealing with the loss of a loved one. Although our stories may be different, the pain is the same.

Don’t let anyone rush you through your process. Some people try to put time periods on grief. You’re allowed to feel without guilt or judgment. I encourage you to be kind to yourself. Let love in and let it lead the way. Love is what gets you through tough days and nights. The road ahead won’t always be easy, but with love leading the way you’re in good hands.

The white Lie

The battle between good and evil is a story as old as time. This epic battle has captivated many of us since we were children. Stories filled with dark demons and the redeeming power of the “light” were commonplace. I’d never once pondered there could be a deeper meaning— a meaning that happens to be far more sinister than many can fathom.

The egregious illusion of white purity continues to be perpetuated by ghastly images of a blonde hair blue-eyed deeply European portrayal of Christ. Controversially speaking, white Jesus has been been the poster child of white supremacy for as long as I have been aware of my place in the world. Unapologetic Blackness is the ultimate antithesis and it shows. The deliberate attack on Blackness can be seen throughout history. It’s easy to spot the brazen attempts, but most Anti-Black assaults are subtle in nature. Disney movies, cartoons, and marketing ads all feature outdated juxtapositions.

Christianity has been the vehicle of choice used to further the white superiority complex and has aided the ever-growing racial divide. White-washed faux historical recounting has comfortably remained the backbone of America and many other parts of the world where colonization thrived. We must challenge damaging worldviews no matter how commonplace they appear.

When will Black stop being synonymous with all things evil? The light and dark juxtaposition where white is pure and black is filthy needs to be abolished today. It’s a poor attempt at covertly furthering the notion that white is the standard of all things good and holy.

I believe by continuing to challenge white supremacy, we can slowly disrupt and destroy the ideas and attitudes that were created to diminish our place in this country and the world alike.

Shameless

I sat my phone down at the corner of my desk. My fingers dribbled along the edge as I processed what had just occurred. My ears burned from the lamentations. To put it as frankly as I can, some people don’t understand how absurd they appear. Being a chronic victim is not a badge of honor. People who pretend to care to mask their wants are disingenuous. When did blaming others for the bed they’ve made make them noble? I’ve always prided myself on being able to avoid or limit contact with people like this, but there are times they slip through the cracks. Just because we love someone doesn’t mean we have to deal with their unsavory behavior.

Answering the phone blindly while deeply entrenched in my writing wasn’t something I should’ve done. I should’ve ended the call as quickly as it began. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. How do we deal with the people in our lives who never have anything good to say? How do we manage our relationships with people who treat others poorly by consistently taking more than they give, using others with reckless abandon, all while claiming to be the perpetual victim? They’re shameless.

I used to answer the phone when I should’ve blocked them. I’d let people talk when I should’ve interrupted them and ended the interaction. I don’t have time for drama and foolishness in my life. This was an important lesson that I had to learn. Now more than ever it’s important to enforce boundaries. Protecting our minds is of the utmost importance, which means we must be selective with the energy we allow into our lives. You can’t be concerned with how they’ll take it, especially if you’ve already shared how you’ve felt. Shameless folks don’t appear to have social awareness. I’m all for giving people a chance, but there comes a time when you’ve said everything that can be said. Accountability doesn’t always feel good. Making excuses for friends and family who continue to violate your boundaries has to come to an end.

Today, I ask you to consider your feelings. Are there people you’ve been continually extending grace to with no change in behavior? How you feel matters. It’s time to make your well-being a priority and it starts with defining your personal boundaries. Once they’re defined they will govern how you interact with the people in your life and will also help you determine what you will and will not accept from others. The truth is not easy to share, but it must be spoken. It’s okay to be selective in regards to the people you choose to have around you. This chapter of your life is about peace; it’s okay to make it about you for once.

Soliloquy of Peace

I’ve learned to prioritize peace in my life. For my own sake, I had to. Sure there are things that happen in life that justify perpetual anger and bitterness, but that would only destroy us. For instance, there was the time my mother’s house was ransacked shortly after she died. To this day I can remember my sister’s frantic call with vivid clarity. I rushed over to the house unsure of what I’d walk into. The adrenaline navigated me through the thick D.C. traffic with precision despite being unnerved. When I arrived the police were already on the scene. The officer looked around for a few minutes, took some notes, and left without a single ounce of compassion. That was it. I was stunned, angry, and confused.

How could this happen? She lived in that house for years. The neighbors were friendly on the surface, considerate, and often checked on her as she battled terminal cancer. People couldn’t possibly be that evil, could they? It was violating to see her belongings scattered amongst the scuffed wood floors and dirt. The big-screen TV she saved for years to be able to purchase was gone. Her medical papers lay amongst a heap of trash and debris. Humanity can be ugly. People can be vile. How can we keep our peace when there are so many things that seek to destroy it?

A few weeks ago I went to a family event and there was a family member there who tested positive for covid and knowingly spread it. This individual traveled hundreds of miles exhibiting symptoms and still decided to come without any regard for anyone else. People whom I dearly loved were infected and the person didn’t apologize or even acknowledge what had occurred. I was angry, to say the least. Even when pressed they casually blamed others and didn’t take any responsibility. This is what we have to work with sometimes. There’s often no restitution. These anti-peace bandits often appear to disappear behind the horizon unscathed. Cynical? Maybe. In spite of this, we have to press forward and protect our well-being. We do this by limiting contact with problematic people, removing ourselves from unfavorable circumstances, believing in better days, and holding ourselves and the people we love accountable.

We all have our challenges. As much as we’d love to be able to control every aspect of our environment, we can’t. This truth doesn’t have to rob us of our contentment. We can choose how we’ll respond to the things that happen and ultimately decide how we’ll move forward. This is our gift. We have the blessing of being able to view the glass as half-full. May we smile in the face of difficult times, press forward through our darkest days, and choose to believe we deserve the best this life has to offer. At the end of the day, everything works out for our good.