Opening my palm I let Simi, the first person to tell me I was a witch forreal, forreal, slip a stone into my hand. It’s small, smooth, and unexpected.
“What is this?”
“Obsidian to protect you,” she replied simply, before walking through the curtains obscuring us to greet her table. We’d just begun our shift, primping to peacock. No one wanted to be the duff, the ugly duckling. Trust when you were, the guests, management, and coworkers alike treated you as such. Part of teamwork was being beautiful, for better tips, for the aesthetic we promised, for the vibe. No one saw our sacred interaction at the back of Miss Lily’s, an ode to music, the tables are shaped and designed like vinyl records, reggae album covers are used for wallpaper. Reflecting back, I’m certain we’d done this in a past life, in a different time, in a different place.
Had I not experienced the power of crystals with Psychic Shanna I’d brush it off as silly, but the crystals she’d given me to wear on my person, were a factor in her ruining my life. “Wear this and I’ll always be connected to you.” Dutifully, I store it daily in my bra.
Simi gave me the obsidian after I’d gotten into an inevitable altercation with a Mexican line cook, who had a crippling Napoleon complex. Elias felt he should be above me, not only in stature but at life in general: I made more money than him, I was a woman and I was black. This however is America, as soon as a person starts speaking Spanish, they’re deemed Mexican, and speaking the language of the help. America is black and white.
Look at the movie Clueless when Cher (played by Alicia Silverstone) offends her maid seeing no difference between Mexico and El Salvador, Arrested Development, matriarch Lucille Bluth (Jessica Walters) more than anyone makes cracks at this countries views on Hispanics, or 30 Rock, Selma Hayek and Alec Baldwin’s relationship peppered intentionally and intelligently with stereotypes. It’s everywhere, openly too under Trump’s “Build A Wall” ideals. Hispanic’s allow it, like with Hilaria Baldwin, keeping them immobile in a socially constructed racial hierarchy. Black people see something, say something, that’s why we’re out of chains and in The White House.
Elias got a reality check after calling me a nigger, only to be fired by a nigger, because of a nigger (but that’s a story for another time, because it’s WILD, WILD). That’s when everyone realized despite my Upper East Side diction, aka white sounding voice, I’m out of my mind and about that life. Ironically it’s said upbringing that makes me entitled, the sun shines out of my ass and the white people knew black people were cooler. Do you know how many times at my friends StuyTown apartment, which was akin to Rachel and Monica’s as a hang spot, all the black people would wander off when certain groups got too white? It started with one or two going off, then one by one the other blacks trickle into Derek’s room in search of each other. After awhile someone, usually Laine, would enter with a hey guys let’s hang out together speech; we’d converge in the living room, becoming one big United Colors of Benetton ad. It wasn’t intentional, it was just the vibe.
Through all the drama I kept the obsidian for two years, in the same pocket of my purse, alongside three others. Day in and day out, the same place. I’m not someone who loses things due to habitual placement and my OCD. Two years it stayed put, until one day it just disappeared. I kid you not! Out of four crystals in that inner purse pocket it was the only one. When I left my house they were all there, saw them with my own eyes, the pockets were such that nothing could fall out due to depth. Had that been the case the others would have followed suit. Ten minutes later, the walk from my apartment to the train station, this lone crystal vanished. Vanished into thin air. Couldn’t believe it. My mind boggled. My flesh goosed. I Googled it asap. Turns out when you don’t need a crystal anymore, when your vibrations aren’t aligned, it’s common for them to disappear. As if I couldn’t be more perplexed this was an ordinary occurrence, experienced by tons of people. Apparently they appear somewhere else, for someone else, or enter a different dimension all together. I will forever wonder where my obsidian went, who it serves now. Via: Solace Crystals