Don't Tell Me Who I Am. in Musings

Let me explain something to everyone and anyone that would ever consider me a racist…(this is just me venting not that anyone here has called me a racist)… just because I wear Louboutins, Birkin bags, Cartier bracelets, and I’m a generally super fucking expensive piece of shit and I don’t post fucking black boxes on my social media—and you mistake my silence as racist…

God Bless George Floyd and his family, his treatment and the absence of empathy, sympathy for his life can only be categorized as monstrous, those people deserve to be tortured the way that they tortured him, the way that his mother feels to have lost her child… however, before hashtag black lives matter-ed I was wondering when the fuck did black lives become your fucking trend.. where were you in 1999 when Amadou Diallo was shot at 41 times and landing 19 bullets on his body? When the fuck did black lives matter to you when the kids from Central Park existed in prison for the majority of there adolescence for a rape and assault they didn’t commit? FUCKING TELL ME!!! Because you really have a lot to say about my absence on social media, and call me a fucking racist when my entire college career was dedicated for 4-fucking years on AFRO-Caribbean literature…
Yes, I ‘pass’, but you don’t understand what passing is because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about and are easy to verbally attack someone like me over the absence of my social media presence… while you posted a black square on your instagram, flooding the feed, I donated $2300 for water to the protests you’ve attended, OH? That’s not good enough, before BLACKLIVESMATTER-ed to you; I donated 42K to the NAACP, The ACLU and the Family Justice Center Alliance… what the fuck have you done? Put a fucking black square on your social media, reached out to the 175 people that follow you, but I am the racist right? I wear all the expensive shit, all the labels, all the bullshit and for some fucking odd reason YOU think that you’re the Black lives matter police… how many books have you read of white fragility? The new Jim Crow Laws Or even the Jim Crow laws? Do you know about the “paper brown bag” test? How many books have you read by Audre Lorde? Have you read ANYTHING written by a black man or a black woman—Frederick Douglass, Malcolm X, Ralph Ellison, W.E.B Dubois, Booker T. Washington, Nella Larsen, Zora Neale Hurston…Did you ever read Edward Long’s “The history of Jamaica”? Do you know the origin of the KKK, why they wear what they wear, and why they attack PRIMARILY African-Americans?
I am almost certain you don’t… my silence isn’t racist, my silence is reflection, my silence is meditation, my silence is trying to undo what I’ve been taught and make reparations for my ignorant privilege…my forced realization of colorism in a way that isn’t just vapid, but a deep exploration of it.
Black lives mattered to me because my mother is half white and half black… black lives have always mattered to me—to you it’s a fucking phase, a gimmick, “omg George Floyd was killed! Omg hashtag fuck the police” Congratulations for knowing all of the black people that have experienced police brutality in the last 3 years… but this is systemic, this racism is engraved down to the adjectives that we use to describe good and bad… this has happened before 2020… this is beyond you and me… but because of assholes like you, who decide to tear down people like me because I’m not like you… this will never end…

The way you tear me down, who has very little influence compared to your racist seamless delivery from Popeyes, while you watch WWE, get your gas from shell and pay your wife’s Equinox membership… but I’m the racist…

Think of me as you want honey… call me a sell-out because you’re not seeing me hashtag bullshit, with thousand dollar shoes and 300k bags and when I go on vacations I may or may not post where I am at and you only know I went to the Maldives because we’re having dinner and I told you… what I do, is none of your fucking business. You’re not gonna díctate to me who I am… you know who I am—fuck you…

Black lives mattered to me before black lives mattered was an idea in your pea brain. Check your fucking privilege and God forgive me for what I am gonna say—but trash like you, should’ve been under that cops fucking knee… You’re a hideous person, you’re a fucking white piece of shit from Long Island telling a Brown Educated Puerto Rican that my silence is racist… NO, you’re audacity is racist, your entitlement is racist, you’re wanting and needing to define me is fucking racist. You don’t have the authority or the finances to tell ME who I am… you may be white and have a lot more privilege than me, and I may be Brown but no matter how much of a nigger I may be, I have a net worth worth more than the building of the 2 bedroom apartment you rent a room out of…

Like Celie said in “The Color Purple” “I’m poor, I’m black and I may be ugly—but dear God I am here…[and I promise you mother fucker] until you do right be me everything you do is gonna crumble”

Fuck you. Suck my dick. Eat the turds off my Louboutins. And tell your man that I feel embarrassed for him, to have to date trash dick and ass… to stick his brown dick in actual sewer garbage and never knowing what “shut your fucking mouth up” pussy is… you’re either really talented at putting out or you must be sitting on a load of money for a brown boy like that to be with a lowlife like you…

You’re lucky that I vent and swallow my tongue and Liam always corrects me and it pisses me off that because we are brown we always have to keep our mouths shut as to not be a spectacle… but catch me on a good day, so I can lay on you all the bad, my sharp tongue isn’t the only thing that will be cutting you and I’m not like my fiancé. I don’t give a fuck what any white bitch thinks of me, I’m not afraid to punch you straight in the teeth, and kick your head as you fall down. All the quiet, reserved front I put up, the high priced shit, the fancy bullshit I wear is because I know that white people think I’m the representative of my race. But fuck that, I am from the projects and punching you in the teeth, is just foreplay.
Don’t forget who the fuck I am… and don’t you ever try to tell me who the fuck I am…

-Andy