Carrying this secret is eating me up inside, it’s time to come clean. Fitting in by any means necessary is important to me, even if it means concocting stories of an upbringing unobtainable by black people. Fake it till you make it. My name is Jaquana Cornelius, I’m an uneducated, ghetto foster baby in my 40’s. Despite never having a conversation, Binn & Genc Jakupi know me like the back of their hands (read Binn And Genc Jakupi Have Zero Remorse). Everything they told Naomi Campbell, who defamed me on their behalves, is right. The truth will always come to light, pretending to be something I’m not has finally caught up to me.
I stand before you a fraud. As the above gallery makes obscenely clear, growing up impoverished forced me into gang relations as a youth. Although I have a devil may care attitude in the second picture, I’m not proud of my behavior. The streets called and we shouldn’t have answered. Unfortunately we didn’t have a choice, it was do or die out there. If we didn’t mark our territories at McDonald’s (picture four), or The Great Lawn (picture five), how the fuck were we going to eat? Please understand, we didn’t choose this life, it chose us. Our only crime, playing the cards dealt to us as best we could (picture one). To everyone I deceived, I’m truly sorry. Please forgive me. What I did was wrong. While the Jakupi brothers dealt with war from 1998-1999, walking over corpses, I wore butterfly clips to play with my Furby, and took computer classes at school (remember Ask Jeeves?). At the end of the day, I should have been honest about my life. A nigga girl growing up on the Upper East Side? Preposterous. Via: Jaquana Cornelius
