Your Terrible Karma Is In The Cards

Everyone who aligned against, disrespected, bullied me,
committed hubris, abused a Goddess, will pay.
Enjoy your time.

Thank your devil debtors, which satanic groups lead the way to your downfall?
PS: Oh I almost forgot, if you want a sneak preview of evidence a Gossip Girl boy has it, the one connected to all the East Side Middle School girls. I think what I sent him might make me and Julia Fox even. Via: Red Fairy Tarot

An Adult Sweet Sixteen

Honestly, I’m just happy my outfit aged chicly. I was fifteen, attending a sweet sixteen, for someone I’ve known since seven. Her mom rented out the entirety of Madame X in Soho. I was wasted upon arrival, I was wasted upon exiting the premises. They sure did serve us courtesy of yellow dresses mom. It’s so funny, I look at these pictures and see ethnicity. Others just see my lone brown face. Showing people childhood photos their commentary typically run along the lines of, there’s a lot of white people. I’m grateful for their commentary, once upon a time I too lived in a bubble, one I’m happy burst. Now I can help bring equity and equality having left a cosseted facade. I wasn’t on yayo yet, having attended my caliber of middle school (all of us in the photo are East Side Middle School alumni), I wanted to keep my purity just a bit longer. Correction, I wasn’t on it that night…at least I waited til high school, okay. All I remember is the taxi ride down there. Judge people by their experiences, not your stupidity, prejudice and racism. I always ask people about their lives having grown up with diversity. Do you?

De-Conditioning: Why You Can’t Say Nigga

Today’s lesson is simple.

Nani: If we were on a plantation and someone said nigga get me a glass of water, I’m going to turn around you’re not.


Why did my 8th grade social studies teacher Allegra, have all those black garbage bags?

She made us pick cotton for the duration of an hour. Robbie, Wesley and Malcolm were in the same class, so they allied threatening to tell on her. I was on my own, the only black person in the room. Every time we complained that our fingers hurt she replied “well now you know how the slaves felt.” How do you argue with a quip like that? I did say something when she made me, of all people, collect the cotton though.

The tips of my fingers burned and numbed, my knuckles ached from constant crooking. Pulling the thinnest layer of cotton off those big ass seeds, all that work for barely anything…I picked in a comfortable classroom on 76th and York Avenue. My ancestors picked in fields under the sweltering sun, until they could no longer stand, passing out, sans sustenance, for the duration of their life.

If earning the word means so much to you, I would be overjoyed to help. We can get a plantation, you can pick the cotton, do all the manual work, build a country on blood, sweat and tears, by force (not choice) and when the mood strikes I’ll strike you. As to ensure the full experience, until the skin on your back leathers and scars. And that would be going easy on you, as that’s only a fraction of the cruelty in the black experience. Do you want to earn the word? Didn’t think so. Special dedication to Ed Westwick and his girlfriend, she’s quicker to use the word than say sorry. Artist: Shaylin Wallace