I was talking to a friend about a month into the lockdown and I brought up the fact that our parents had similar and very different battles as they grew up. My mother was born during the civil rights movement. My father watched civil wars, coups, dictatorships, polio, HIV, and Trump.
I know it seemed like a huge jump to Trump but truly think about everything we have gone through as a race and a global community since he came into office. Fuck.
From our conversation, he mentioned the fact that we have to document these times.
The societal issues are largely accounted for in hashtags and op-ed’s but we need our own account.
As a writer, I am very guilty of not really liking to read back my work. Idk why but once I create it and put it out, it belongs to YOU. Somehow, I kind of detach from the content and I just hope it’s impactful.
So for this piece, I have decided to write it like a journal/diary entry and I hope you find something here or just enjoy how I write if that’s all you need.
I had such high hopes for 2020, and honestly, it could still turn out fucking amazing but at this exact moment – FUCK.
- WW3 scares
- Australian Wildfire
- Cancellation of Sporting Events
- Confirmed UFO Sightings
- Murder Hornets
- Evidence of Parallel Universes
- Murders of Black people + Riots across America
- Return of #Anonymous
And it’s just June.
I remember telling someone that I didn’t think that the lockdown for this long. I was sure that the capitalist world that is America would force them to send us back to work as soon as they could.
I was wrong.
I think 2020 so far has shown us that the saying “we have seen it all” is nonsense because we have not seen this shit.
At least not at this rate. I feel largely conflicted on most days. The lockdown has reactivated my creative talents through @TheRantsShow and this blog. I am back to writing more and sharing it.
Key part: sharing it.
The best days on my blog (thanks to people like you for being here to read this) since 2017 have all come while the whole world is protesting the murders of #GeorgeFloyd #AhmaudArbery #BreonnaTaylor and the brutal raping of Tina & Uwa. #JusticeForTina #JusticeForUwa
So while personally, I have finally found some joy, I am still immensely consumed by sadness and dread.
Getting laid off in March, I struggled to keep my head afloat for about a month. Then I got to the final stages of a company I thought I wanted to work for and I was passed over.
Enter depression, doubt, and dejection.
So as I turned to my creative outlets like I know how I was so happy to be finally in the groove again.
And even that feels unfair. It feels unfair to be happy.
To have things that make you smile when my people are dying and the world is reeling.
Being unemployed in the middle of a pandemic, while worrying about your health and life is a different level of crazy.
Then the overwhelming news of pain and sadness everywhere you turn feels like being in a toxic relationship that you know you need to leave but you can’t seem to figure out how.
Everywhere I turn, I feel stuck.
For many of the reasons listed above, I have questioned God. Why this or why that?
Yet, I have somehow found some peace in God still.
I can’t seem to think of much than getting a new job.
I know we should not be defined by our jobs but I feel like not being an active contributor in life truly bothers me.
I tend to feel inadequate AF.
I want to be doing things, being impactful, and truly touching lives. I keep thinking about @TheRantsShow’s Annual Give Back – will I be able to touch the lives of these kids this year due to the pandemic and being out of a job?
I was taking the trash out earlier tonight and my heart started racing. I stopped on the stairs to process for a second and I realized that it was because there is a county-wide curfew at the moment. So from 9pm-5am, everyone needs to be in their homes.
But I started thinking, what if a police officer saw me and I got shot or something bad happened.
I know in your mind, like in a mind, a quick thought came in about how I could potentially be thinking irrationally but just look at most of the recent killings of black men and women.
Nothing seems irrational or impossible anymore.
I worry about my blood brothers
and all my friends, acquaintances, and just random people.
Who got us?
Every time they call my phone, I panic. Is one calling me because something happened to the other one?
Did someone assault or abuse my sister?
Is everything okay?
I worry about walking to the 7/11, driving, being in the workplace, being around a certain group of people (yes, those people), or just fucking existing and it being a crime to be alive and black.
And that is weird for me. I hate worrying. I am team, worry about what you can control, change it, or allow it.
I feel like I’m constantly watching my back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
We need to train our boy child.
All over the world but especially in Nigeria and the broader Africa.
Men need to stop raping women/girls.
It has to stop.
It doesn’t matter where they go. Women are not safe.
And what is mad is that through everything, they stay protecting us. How?!
We need to take the time to teach self-awareness, consent, and have firm consequences for people that violate other people on any level.
I wish I lived in Nigeria and I could have those conversations with young boys.
Consent is attractive. Consent is peace of mind. Consent is to be given, respected and can be revoked.
I pray for the families of the young women abused by animalistic men.
My heart is heavy.
My soul is weary.
My body is achy.
We all need peace.
Please do not give up the fight. We can and we will pull through.
I believe in us.
Please stay safe out there, we are fighting two wars – a global pandemic and racism.
Stay safe and sane.
Catch part two of Bastards next Saturday. Did you miss part one? Read it here
So how are you doing, Sanmi? You may ask…
HURTING. Really HURTING.
How are YOU feeling?
Leave your answers in the comment section below.
Thanks for reading as always! 💕
Till next time, stay up!
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