I had to take some time to make a few major life transitions. On top of the fact that the world decided to reclaim equilibrium on the human race - that’s my view of COVID19. So I paused. Reassessed. Reflected. Then stepped forward into what I’m calling Phase II.
However, I can’t move forward until I reflect on myself, my world, my community. I accept and love who I am. My heritage is resilient and as we like to term it ‘tallawah’. I was inspired to understand my heritage by my uncle, a Royal African Soldier. Seriously. But any seed of retired Colonel Clarke can be nothing but great. I always respected him. His silent, undeniably powerful presence. Even as a child I knew I had to be like him.
My whole life I moved. Constantly I moved. Believing unlike a tree I have no roots so why not see the world. That I did. I’ve moved over 20 times, I simply decided to stop counting there. I’ve seen most of the Caribbean, Canada, Europe and Asia all before my third decade. Then it seemed like the moment I stopped moving. So did the world.
I strongly believe in and respect the forces that govern our universe. And this pause powerfully wrung across the globe. This pause was not to be ignored. The world just seemed to stop. Napoleon Hill said, every adversity brings with it the seed of an equivalent advantage. So I made a determined effort to find an advantage.
Once the propellers started to slowly spin again. I thought, great we’re starting over. People will come back in a better, more grateful place. But then it all started like a bad avalanche of inequality. I don’t watch the news and try to avoid anyone too extreme in their views but this I couldn’t ignore. People kept dying. My people kept dying. And no matter how far removed you thought you were from it. It hurt.
I don’t condone violence and I truly believe some people are actually seeking justice, while others are taking advantage of the situation to become pirates. Though at times I’m not even accepted by my community because I don’t keep up with the trends, terms, temperaments...I felt drawn into this.
We tend to watch certain situations and think...
"that could never be me”...
"they must have done something wrong”.
A small part of us knows ... we’ve been there. We all seem to have had an experience or experiences that relate. That’s why we’re drawn in and that’s why it hurts.
Sadly, we never speak about our experiences. We just bottle up the pain until something forces us to remember. Then we erupt. Then they watch and wonder why are they so mad. It’s hard to not see these occurrences and remember everything...
I remember growing up in royal palm beach when my mom was stopped, there always seemed to be an odd confusion about our address.
I remember being escorted out of and detained at a football game in college after “sitting in the wrong section”. A section blocked for a PC group that invited me to sit in their block.
I remember being lost in the outskirts of Georgia and no one would talk to us when we asked for directions.
I remember noticing the minute disparities of how we were treated in a past workplace vs how they seemed to need no support.
I remember pausing to think, I’m moving into a really nice area. I should send all the neighbors a welcome note closing with a picture of us so if they see us they know we’re suppose to be here.
I remember awakening thinking, this is me. I am them. We are the same. Their world is my world. And our world needs to change.
That’s why we’re so upset. That’s why it hurts...because we all woke up and remembered.