A Smile to Remember, RIP Big Daddy

Posted on by serenitisparkles

Too often we never get the chance to say goodbye.

It all happened so fast. Like a lightning bolt that strikes down a beautiful palm. My best friend called me crying. Kenya got shot. Chills ran through my body and I remember feeling so helpless. I could hear her deep pain. And I understood why. Kenya aka Big Daddy was larger than life. He had a smile that made your heart melt. Kenya was like a teddy bear. He was there to help and never to harm. All I could remember thinking was WHO could be so evil.

My best friend told me he was on life support at a hospital about 20 mins away. She told me that the whole family was there. I dropped everything and went to be with them.

What would come next would stay with me forever.

When I got to the hospital I saw the family crowded by his bed side as my best friend walked out to tell me, he’s gone.

That day ended in pain and tragedy, but what it would bring was a sign of unity never seen before.

In order to tell this story properly, let me give you some background on my experience with my best friend, Kenya and the family that you won’t know if you are just reading this.

About 5 years before this tragic day, I moved to the south from New England. My white skin and love for Hip Hop music would make me an awkward fit at the time for this heavily separated town. When I first entered the high school lunch room it was obvious that most groups were separated by color or ethnicity rather than interests or life experiences.

I felt alone at the time because I related more to the black kids in the school because of Hip Hop culture, but I wasn’t necessarily accepted by them at first. Until I met my best friend, Kenya, and the family. They just truly saw ME. Me and my best friend became inseparable and Kenya’s smile became a reassurance that I was always good where ever I was in town. I was so blessed to have each and everyone of them in my life, especially Kenya. They were the definition of what family stood for. Always together, and I was always welcome.

I had come from a broken home and family that was separated by 1000 miles. My mother, whom I was living with at the time, was suffering from breast cancer, and I just remember feeling the embrace that I needed from all of them. It came right on time.

As the years passed on I saw Kenya grow up from a boy into a man. July 4th was the last day I got to spend with him. I remember there was a cookout at one of the family members houses and Kenya was the reason that July 4th was a hit for all of us. He brought hundreds of dollars worth of fireworks and began the show. We were outside for hours that day, basking in the beauty of the fireworks show that Kenya was putting on as he poured his energy into it. He was a bright light for all of us, and that day, he did his thing. Less than a month later, he was gone.

Hopelessness and sadness filled the family circle, but like always they stuck together. As the years would pass, his brother, sister and cousins would start an event for his birthday in his name. RIP Big Daddy. In the beginning, maybe a couple hundred would show up and celebrate and the police would always try to shut it down. Every year, more and more began to come. Like a fire igniting, it would continue to burn. Whether we realized it or not, Kenya’s energy lived far beyond his death.

This year, thousands would gather in the name of Big Daddy and Ending Gun Violence. The police that used to try and shut it down, would be forced to get behind the cause.

I don’t believe that our energy ever really leaves this earth and I believe that Kenya aka Big Daddy is proof of that.

I will always miss you, but your smile lives in my memory bank to remind me that life is worth smiling about. RIP Big Daddy.

Silence is having blood on your hands…It is time White People

Posted on by serenitisparkles

For my entire life thus far, I have watched as some of the people I cared for most in this world being tormented by a system built to oppress them. Through the years I have seen what the simple color of my skin meant to my experience in this world and more specifically this country. The shame I have, to see others that look like me and that hold the same privilege sit in silence. The pain I’ve felt watching my friends and family members be treated as less than or overlooked despite their clear capabilities. The sickness I feel every time I see the outright mistreatment by law enforcement.

Let me be clear when I say, you may love your neighbor no matter the color of their skin, but if you do not speak truth to power, then you too have blood on your hands. How many times do we have to see the blatant disrespect and disregard for human lives? How many times do we have to watch the difference in being black in America vs white in America to know we must not be silent? I’ve written hundreds of articles, praying they reach someone else that needs to hear these words. I’ve listened to my friends and family of color so that I can be better in the fight against racism.

This is getting to the point that it is NO LONGER acceptable for you to just love thy neighbor, you must also be willing to fight for thy neighbor. Imagine a world where every time you walked out into the public, you had to fear that you would be in harm’s way or treated as less than. Imagine that you were treated this way every single day of your life, not because you deserved it, but because of the pigment of your skin. It may not be you that engages in racism or hate. It may not be you that assists in the breakdown of another human’s rights. But it is because of you and your silence that we have witnessed a rise in racism. It is because of that silence that white supremacists marched on the capital as if they would have no repercussions and not be held accountable for such hate.

I am going to keep writing and keep telling white people what they need to hear. I am going to keep speaking up against the most dangerous type of hate that exists in America. The mentality that you or I are better because of the color of our skin is a fallacy and one we are responsible for deconstructing. If you choose to not speak up against what is happening with racism in America, then you my friend, have blood on your hands. PERIOD.

Oh, You’re “that type” of White Girl

Posted on by serenitisparkles

The racism I have endured from my own color folk. Here’s my story. 

Growing up, loving Hip Hop, making multi cultural friends, primarily black, I realized very quickly there was a stereotype and hate for someone like me.  Subliminal hate rules over many parts of our country.  Being pulled over for no reason, escorted out of clubs by the swat team, surrounded by cops cars with their guns drawn, discriminated against because of my association, hate words spewed at me, all my experience for being white and loving my black brothers and sisters.  

I was never accepted by the majority of my white peers because they believed I was trying to be a part of something that wasn’t for me.  Snickerlicker, ghetto, and wigger were just some of the words sent my way.  Since the age of 14 when I fell in love with Hip Hop music and culture, I became the “other” type of white person.  My love for Hip Hop would give me the most amazing friends and experiences I could have ever imagined, but it would also put me in the category that most of my black friends and family were born into.  

My experience isn’t unique by any means.  Just ask the ones like me.  But my experience gave me a unique perspective inside of a world that most can’t possibly see.  Many people that look like me have chosen to do the white thing, while I chose to do the right thing.  

People are not a color to me.  Everyone is a unique soul living on this planet and many have a collective experience.  Unfortunately for our Black Americans, that experience has not been kind.  In many instances, that experience has been the definition of criminal.  The hate, oppression, judgement, and misrepresentation that Black Americans have faced is a disgrace to humanity.  Or at least it should be.  

One of my white friends once said to me when I was the only white person on the step team, aren’t you worried about what people will think of you?  My answer, said 20 years ago, still holds true today.  No, because anyone that sees my happiness and inclusivity as wrong, doesn’t need to be in my circle.  

Standing for Black Americans is easy for me, it always has been.  Though my experience was just instances of insight into the Black experience, I have been humbled, time and time again.  To think that my friends and family are treated in this way on a daily basis is one thought that will never leave my mind.  My only hope is that others are humbled by the unlimited amount of information that we have collected to understand that racism, hate and systematic oppression is real.  Just ask , the “other” type of white person.  My hope is that more of us can break the stereotype and stand up as white people for all people who are silenced or treated unjustly.  If America is the greatest country in the world, it’s time we start acting like it.

I love you, despite your ignorance…

Posted on by serenitisparkles

As the people of the world grow more intolerant of things they do not agree with or understand, I say, this is not going to end well. Ignorance of the unknown is all this boils down to because the power of human interaction is much stronger than that.

For example…

Little Jimmy grows up in a household where the theme is everything white. He is taught that ALL white people are good people and anyone that looks different must be watched out for. His family lives in the country with a few neighbors, all of caucasian decent. Jimmy plays with big toy trucks and has his boxer puppy as a companion. Jimmy is also slightly mentally disabled and has a hard time interacting with others. He says racist remarks towards others without understanding what he is saying. He watches as his parents celebrate the hate he spews. All Jimmy knows as he grows is what surrounds him in his small world.

Then there is little Shayla. Shayla grows up in the projects where all that surrounds her is black. Her mom and grandma teach her that the white man is the reason for all that is wrong with their world. They teach her that white people can’t be trusted. The only interaction Shayla had with white people is when the white police officers come to harass her neighbors and brothers. Shayla is taught to stay away from the police because nothing good ever comes from talking to them. Shayla grows up only seeing the world from her perspective.

Jimmy is now a grown up who works in a factory. He still lives in the country and is even more pro-white because of the many years living within his surroundings. He joins in on hate speech on a regular basis. Jimmy now has 2 little boys that he is raising with his wife. He is responsible for their teachings and what they will become.

Shayla is still living in the same projects she grew up in. She wasn’t doing well in school so she dropped out early and now lives with the father of her new baby. She has also grown up with the understanding that white people haven’t done anything for her and they are not to be trusted. Everything around Shayla is depressed. She doesn’t see a light at the end of her tunnel so she keeps perpetuating the lie that all white people are bad.

Within these two scenarios, can you see how their story could change? Can you see an opportunity to give them knowledge other than what they have been brought up to know?

I can. What if Jimmy met someone that was black and that person didn’t shy away from him because of his ignorant comments or lifestyle? What if Shayla met a white person that wasn’t offended by Shayla’s beliefs about white people? What if those people loved Shayla and Jimmy despite their prejudice? What if they continued to try to understand where it all came from? What if they decided to stand by Shayla and Jimmy no matter what to show them that good people can come into your life in many different shades?

If more people went toward the hate, enforcing love and understanding, we would have a chance to change perspectives. But if you just allow Shayla and Jimmy to sit in their world and feel that you hate them back, they will never have the opportunity to change. Hate combatting hate is the same as putting fire on a fire, it will only get bigger until it destroys us all. Combatting hate with love and putting water on the fire is the only way that we won’t implode.

That is why I say to all people, I love you, despite your racism…

We are supposed to be better than they were…

Posted on by serenitisparkles

This blog talks of generations. From many different lifetimes. Old and new. Most of all, the ones alive today, are being taught a lesson, we are much more mortal than we want to realize. In society most of our views come from different generations. The old versus the young. Whats the difference between our views as Gen Z and Gen Alpha than the Baby Boomers and Silent Generation?

The answer is in front of us everyday, all the time. There is a component to our growth as humans to understand where the world became more enlightened. Ideas today began because of the trendsetters of our history being “woke”. It began with ideas from many individuals, then it became a whole new world.

The internet joined all of us in 1991 when we were able to connect instantly (or at least with a short delay). It changed humanity as we would ever know it to be.

Why? Our IQs aren’t higher than the people of the past, but our access to universal information is. For the past 30 years we have been becoming informed.

In the past, for our parents and grand parents, it was information in books. But even the most avid readers of the past generations weren’t holding all the cards. Today, I can talk to Siri, search anything my heart desired, at the command of my voice. Today, I meet people from all over the world. Today, we understand others unlike ourselves. The newer generations are not better with everything that they do, but they are more informed. Equality and stability is a right for us all, not just in my town, my city, but for all humans. Gen Z and Gen Alpha will be the new way. My hope is that we realize our strengths as a generation and our weaknesses and become better humans. We all deserve to leave this world with more healing and understanding than before. Every generation is a trial on what works and what doesn’t work in our world. If we don’t use that data to make the world a more peaceful and connected place, then we have missed our opportunity.

I didn’t know speaking about equality would get me REJECTED from FB

Posted on by serenitisparkles

I have always been a person of deep spirituality. Prophetic some might say. I have always thought about what it means to live with purpose. Purpose is what drives me to write. I’ve never been paid to write or encouraged to go against the laws of the land. But what happens when my free speech, and sharing it with others is rejected.

For the first time in my life, power has silenced me. My voice is no different than any other average American. I am not famous or powerful. I am humble. I want nothing more in my life than to leave a valuable message for the generations that live beyond me. I want nothing more than to right the wrongs or at least try to.

Never would I have thought that one of my blogs, written from my heart with only good intent, would be rejected by a platform. Speaking truth to power is important, but what happens when power won’t let us be heard.

I wrote a blog yesterday about supporting my Black brothers and sisters in their fight to gain true equal rights from a system that has silenced them for too long. It was nothing more than what every faith lives on; Treat others how you want to be treated. It is so simple, yet so complex in the world we are living in. An opinion is all. An opinion that spoke of love and support was rejected by FB. I didn’t understand it so I dug further.

I found that in order for me to write about equality, I must first disclose my name, phone number, and address to the platform for approval. Why would I do such a thing, when I watch whistleblowers from around the world be silenced and forgotten. The people in charge want to know who I am before I can speak about what is right. Why? I am not a politician. I am not organizing the resistance. What is the resistance anyway? Isn’t this something we ALL want to see before we take our last breath?

I had to write about it, like so many other things. More than ever, I had to speak up for what I see as wrong. I had to speak up for those who can no longer speak. I had to speak up so that the day I take my last breath, I know I never walked away from the truth. We should all be working towards love. We should all be working towards a better future for each other. These blogs are for my friends, my family, and anyone that ever needed confirmation that love is the way. You can silence me today, but just know I will keep writing, unapologetically.

Power to Black People, Means Power to THE People

Posted on by serenitisparkles

A statement with so many layers. A bold statement, misunderstood by ignorance. What exactly do I mean? Power to Black People? Does this mean Black people deserve more power?

A simple answer is, yes.

The same people that have made it their duty to oppress Black people, have made it their duty to oppress the people.

But ALL people are not oppressed?

When 99% of the people are within the lower bracket of our country’s economy as we know it and only a few hold the power to control government with their money, aren’t they? Aren’t most people living under the umbrella of Big Pharma, For-Profit Education Companies, the Banking system, and Corrupt Government?

The continued oppression of Black people is symbolic for what most people living in this country suffer from. Black oppression is the worst of the worst.

When this country turns the tables on how Black people are treated, won’t that set the bar for how all people should be treated. We need the tide to turn. We need the tide to turn in a big way if this country has hope to survive and thrive. Fighting for our Black brothers and sisters isn’t just about fighting for them. It’s about fighting for all of us.

Power can only sustain its power if they divide us. The media, painting pictures of us as if most Americans don’t want the same thing. Why do we continue to believe them? Why do we allow them to act as if they aren’t the ones benefiting from the oppression? Do you not understand that only 6 Corporations own 90% of the media that is fed to us? Do you not think they, the rich and powerful, have an agenda?

But have you talked to your neighbor recently? Have you spoken with your friend of another race? Your co-worker?

We can’t be so blind to the fact that they want all of us to believe that we don’t want the system fixed for ALL of us.

In order for that to begin, we need to see the power, the rights, and the respect put back into our Black countrymen and woman. We are ALL citizens of this beautiful country. We are members of an exclusive place called the United States of America. Don’t you think it’s time for the system that was built by the people (ALL PEOPLE) and for the people, do what it has promised? There are 324 Million people living under the thumb of the 1%. Shouldn’t it be the majority that rules?

The C word VS the N word and why they are not the same.

Posted on by serenitisparkles

“Cracker” is what I would be referred to at times and it never bothered me.  Not because it wasn’t derogatory, but because it literally held no actual weight on society as I knew it.  “Crackers” weren’t systematically oppressed.  “Crackers” weren’t being targeted by the police.  Being a “Cracker” didn’t affect your place in society.  “Cracker” was just a word.

Many people ask well “if the N word is so bad to say, then why isn’t the C word as bad” One is a word and the other torments you.  One word is used as a clap back and the other is used to cut you.  One is the word of the moment, the other is a word derived from the cruelest moments in our nation’s history.

Other people ask the question, “Why can’t I say the N word if Black people say it to each other?’  

It is because THAT is their word.  The N word has been used as a racial slur and a representation of the oppression for centuries.  Since the blood was first placed on the white hand by the slavery they instilled in this nation.  That blood, stains.  Every time a white person says the N word, it cuts like a knife in an open wound.  The N word represents all that is wrong with White vs. Black in this country.   Our Black American citizens decided that rather than let this word be used against them, they keep it.   That by being so restrained in its use, it gives white Americans (specifically) a taste of what it is like to not be entitled to “do anything they please, anywhere.”

So no, the C word will never be equal to the N word because Black Americans have never been offered that same opportunity.  They have been kneeled on by the power of government and law in a country that’s primary principle is that All Men Were Created Equal and All Men Deserve Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

So “Crackers”, if you find this word offensive, think of what a lifetime of being exploited feels like.

Let Us Pray

Posted on by serenitisparkles

Does it matter who we pray to, as long as we humble ourselves to the understanding that this is bigger than us and we are all connected?  I would strongly argue, No.  Prayer has become a term with a religious connotation.  But prayer, in its rawest form, is HOPE.  When we pray, we give thanks for the life we live and HOPE for a better tomorrow.  Prayer can be powerful.

Hands held, eyes closed, love in our hearts, hope in our soul.  Let Us Pray.  Let us pray for the people of the world.  Let us pray that they have another day.  Let Us Pray for the heavy heart that we all carry watching the disparities around the world.  Let Us Pray.  Let Us Pray for the evil that consumes so many.  Let Us Pray that it is ousted by good.  Let Us Pray that we realize our voice can make a difference.

Let Us Pray.  Let Us Pray that all children are warm with full bellies and happy thoughts.  Let Us Pray that we are given the time and capacity to see the good vs the evil.  Let Us Pray for the Black Men who walk with targets on their backs.  Let Us Pray that this stigma is lifted to form a better tomorrow.  Let Us Pray.

Let Us Pray for the Mother’s caring for their children alone.  Pray that they keep going because the future depends on them.

Let Us Pray for a country wounded by its founders.  Let Us Pray that, tomorrow we will be better, love more, and accept everyone as they are.  To pray for one is to pray for all, and to pray for all is our greatest gift and our guiding light.  Amen.

My White Privilege and Why I Can’t Be Silent

Posted on by serenitisparkles

I was born in the middle class.  My grandmother an immigrant.  My appearance, blonde hair and blue eyes.  My skin color, white.  At a very young age, I learned a very valuable lesson.

For the rest of my life, I would be White and the people I held closest, Black.  I lived on a small island in New England, the epicenter of suburbia.  We knew the police in the neighborhood and would always feel comfortable approaching them for a sticker.

As a young child, my mother would take me from my neighborhood, to a neighborhood deemed, “the projects”, to be babysat by her best friend, a black women who I would come to know as my aunt.  Her daughter, my cousin, would be with me for life as a part of my family.  Her mother, my Nana, may she RIP.

I didn’t realize what our difference in skin color really meant in this world.  To me, at that time, I knew these were my people, my family.

Let’s move along to when I became a teenager.  I was very attracted to the athletes in the “city” school.  I dated a few.   They were young and handsome and Black.   I can remember, my best friend’s mother at the time, yelling about me dating one of them and that they were “Black as Sin”.  In that moment, EVERYTHING would start to become clearer.  Those words cut my soul.  They changed me.  Not to become like her mother, but to always push back against what THAT was.

Next stop, I move to an old southern neighborhood in the sticks of Florida.  My high school was heavily divided in groups of color and culture.  But I loved black culture.  Hip Hop was in its Golden Era, and I was absorbed growing up, 3 hours away from its center.  So I chose my friends, and even more importantly, I chose my extra curricular activity.  I decided to join what I thought was the best way to spend my remaining high school years, The Step Team.  P.U.S.H. (People United Serving Humanity).  That is who WE were.  I was one of two white girls on the team out of roughly 30.  Then one day, during a parade, a teammate was feeling nauseas and asked a local restaurant to use the bathroom.  She came out in tears telling us they wouldn’t let her and that their restaurant was for customers only.  She was Black, I was White.  I knew what needed to be done.  So I did it.  I went in with my White Skin and asked to use the bathroom, which, they permitted.  I went outside, grabbed my teammates hand and took her to the bathroom that was so conveniently available.  I was disgusted and NEVER would step foot in that restaurant again.

Let’s fast forward to a night out, with my Black girlfriends at 21 years young.  We went to an afterparty for a big HBCU rivalry game, which ended in a small fight between 2 men, to thereafter being escorted out of the building with the crowds of attendees by the SWAT team geared up for war.  I can still remember thinking how excessive their force was for something as minor as a bar fight.  I remember not being able to walk because of my stiletto heels and having officers tell me to move faster.  We hadn’t done ANYTHING but follow the directions.

Now lets move onto another moment.  A moment I was driving with an ex at night.  He was Black, I was White.  I remember seeing the cop lights behind me, thinking, why?  I had been driving the speed limit, my car was almost new.  Why?  When they pulled me over, I did ask why.  They told me that there was a rental that was reported stolen and that my car had out of state plates.  “Yes officer, I just moved from Florida”.  Then, they did something that again, would change me.  They went to my passenger, a young black man, and proceeded to ask for his ID.  When they took our ID’s back to the car, I looked at him and said, “this isn’t right, why would he need your ID” .  He told me, just relax and that these things happen to people that look like, him.  It infuriated me to feel the injustice in that moment.

Now, to the moment, that allowed me to see inside of what being profiled by the police felt like.  I was living in Las Vegas, promoting night clubs, walking on the strip all day to give out passes to partygoers.  One day, and many times after this, I was out talking to different groups of people about the clubs, when a cop tells me to go next to his car.  He then proceeded to ask me what I was doing out here.  I told him.  He said are you sure, your not out here prostituting.  I was speechless.  I was nauseated by what he was accusing me of.  He asked for my ID, but I didn’t have it.  He then told me I need to tell him the truth or I’ll be arrested.  But I was.  He had me standing on the side of Las Vegas Boulevard for almost an hour treating me like a prostitute who was going to be arrested, stripping me of any  freedom I thought I had.  In that moment, I felt less than human.  I felt scared.   This moment would repeat many times after that.  As long as I chose to stand on the strip and promote, the police chose to profile and harass me.

Being on the strip allowed me to see the true colors of bias the police would have against different groups of people.  Let me tell you, that in my two years and hundreds of days, walking the strip, young black men were the most targeted.  If you were a black man, in anything less than a suit, in a group of 2 or more, you would be interrogated.  Like clock work, I would watch the atrocity and know what that felt like, at least a fraction of it.  Like a snapshot in time, I saw what those minutes of interrogation would feel like.  I watched as young black men were stripped of their rights just for being Black.

THESE are just a few of the instances that helped me realize my fight is for this to STOP.  I will use my White Privilege to always stand on the right side of Justice.  These are my family members, my friends, and people I look up to that deal with the unfair treatment on a DAILY BASIS.  I’m SO FORTUNATE that I have seen what THIS was from the moment my world was disrupted by RACISM.  It is HATE, and it doesn’t belong in the United States of America.  Period.