Fix Ya Face & Act Like You Got Some Sense!

I want to preface this blog entry by stating that I may not make total sense as you read this.  This post isn’t meant to be dissected and examined in an effort to see if I captured the “experience” correctly. I don’t use big words.  And I’m going to be about as deep as a puddle.  I’m not that type of writer. LOL. I’m just typing shyt that has been on my mind.  So much so, that it woke me up out my sleep last night.

I’ve noticed over the last few years that I’ve changed.  Not spiritually.  And no, I haven’t lost any weight (although I need to).  My level of consciousness has changed a bit. When you’re bombarded with news about unarmed brothers and sisters being gunned down for no apparent reason but for the color of their skin and the cowardice in an officers heart, it can take a toll on you.

I’m witnessing these countless events taking a toll on a lot of people of color.  Black and brown alike. Every other week a hashtag is created in remembrance of someone who was killed.  And it’s scary. This is becoming more apparent as people become more comfortable taping these confrontations.  But the scariest part is that even with video evidence, justice is still not served.  These officers of the law are given a slap on the wrist and allowed to carry on with the rest of their life.  And I’m not saying all officers are corrupt. I’m not saying that at all.  I’ve got family members that were in law enforcement.  What I am saying is that it takes a special kind of person to be an officer of the law, not some scared shytless formally bullied ass jerk that pops a cap in the first person that makes him remember those lonely days hanging from his draws in a high school gym locker.   And definitely not some Klan member that traded his white sheet for a gun and a badge.  Those are the ones that I am scared of.

And you don’t know who they are.  You can’t tell until it’s too late.  And that scares me!  I find myself trying to make myself NOT look like a threat when I see an officer.  Shyt, I find myself trying to not look like a threat when I pass white people.  Especially, white women.  When I go to stores, I am conscious of not lingering in aisles too long.  Or appearing “suspicious”.   Don’t look like you’re digging for a gun in your purse.  Hands at 10 & 2.  I’m adjusting who I am to make other people feel comfortable. And that makes me so f*cking mad.  But who am I mad at?

I go back and forth between being mad at myself, and then being mad at society for making me adjust so they can feel comfortable.

I grew up in the DC metro area.  While I lived 15 years in Montgomery County, I stayed with family and friends in DC quite often as my mom worked 12 hour shifts as a nurse.  DC was black.  Chocolate City.  Now, the ONLY way you could call DC chocolate city, is if you are referring to white chocolate.  Neighborhoods have completely changed, and the people that grew up there, are being forced out.  The ones that have been able to stay, are constantly being harassed by scared white people calling the police on them.  Not for doing anything illegal, just because they looked “suspicious”.  DA FUQ?!?!?!

I don’t know. I’m sure at this point, I’m just rambling.  My soul just hurts. I am literally scared for my husband and my kids.  I honestly cannot do anything to protect them.  I pray for their safety.  Constantly.  Growing up I NEVER thought I’d have to pray for their safety from those that were entrusted to protect and serve.  But that could just be my naivety.

My heart is literally shattered by the beautiful souls that have been killed.  That was somebody’s BABY!!!  Some mother or fathers child!  And we are being shot down like wild animals.  Well, hmmm it appears that wild animals get a little more respect and sympathy then we do.  #CeciltheLion

So I guess we’re just being used as target practice.  Stress relievers. I mean I don’t know what else to call it.  People went ape shyt when Michael Vick was aware of the dog fighting in his home, but when we hear of a senseless shooting of an unarmed person we’re told to just “move on”.

I still don’t see how white men aren’t perceived with the same fear, as those of color.  I swear on EVERYTHING that I am nervous that when I go to the theater or mall, some white dude is going to come and shoot it up.  No bull.

I’ve marched, I’ve signed petitions, I’ve sent letters.  I’m sure I could do more than rant on Facebook and Twitter….but for now…Meh…this is all I can muster up.

D’ah well.  I’m going to stop now before I make even more enemies.  This isn’t a kill the white people essay.  I don’t feel that way at all.  I literally love everyone.  I have white friends.   #LOL
I’m just sad, and tired and mad.  And I need a hug.

Take Care!!
Crys

Week 6

Today I went for my first sonogram. Since I am so early in the pregnancy, I had to do the one where they dim the lights, talk softly to you and shove a dildo up your hooha. That’s the only way they can clearly see the embryo. 
I had my husband on video chat so he could see the baby to be.  It was funny. It’s soooooo small. Looked like when you wet a seed and it sprouts a few days later.  Like that, attached to my uterus wall. 
We also got to hear the heartbeat which was 120 BPM.   Hubby said “sounds like the heart of a runner!”
I lost 3lbs since my last week’s Appt. That’s great! I’ve been trying to lose weight since I started working on getting pregnant. My stomach has been bloated the last few weeks. To the point where I took a laxative.
Worst decision ever! Honey! When I tell you that magnesium citrate had me on that toilet all night and the next morning! Plus I had a huge event that next day.  Even after I cleared out, my stomach still liked bloated. I’ve been trying to be conscious of what I eat, and I’ve been exercising. I really don’t want to get fat during this pregnancy. Really!!!!
Pregnancy Links
Week 5
Week 6
Week 7
Week 8 & 9
Week 10
Week 11 & 12
Week 14