A movement that stills

I have been accused of being a follower. Why? Because I decided to share my thoughts on a movement that means to so much to me. Yet they did not believe me when I said this. Told me that I had no place to speak out on such a subject.

It took me awhile to realize that this is because they thought I was white.

See,I am one of those people who has a particular skill. I can “pass” as a different race as long as my face isn’t shown. My name, my voice, my way of writing. All passing in the eyes of society. It is not something that I like to think about but I do acknowledge that I get a sense of pleasure when people first stumble upon what I looked like.

My name is Jessica. Such a mundane and boring name. I hated it as a kid and I hate it even more now. There is no history to this name. No culture related stories I can tell to my friends. No one will look at me and ask me the origin of my name. I hated how unoriginal it was growing up. It didn’t help that people teased me over it, but really, that was a given since nothing is sacred with it comes to bullies. So yea, I hated it and I hate it now. Though less so than I used to.

As a brown skinned Jessica I pass. I am assumed to be not like “them” as though that is something to have pride in. Not like “them” but I am not accepted into any other group. So who I am? It doesn’t matter as much as it used to.

Still, I fight for the culture I was born into. I feel pride in my brown skin in the proper way, whatever that means. But because of my ability to pass I am often faced with those who feel like I have no space to speak in.

This girl told me that I should stick to my own kind yet when I do so i am ridiculed. It isn’t my fault that can’t see who I am really am but once I educate her on that fact I get blocked.

Or I get told to shut up

Or I get called a race traitor

One I was even called an Uncle Tom. Though that one was because I have a biracial daughter.

I am brown. My skin, as my daughter says, the color of the earth we play in. The one that sheltered the plants. Life thrives beneath my skin. I am proud of it and my connection to such a beautiful phenomenon.

And I stand by my people, my culture that I love, and fight for the injustice thrust upon us. I may not be without privilege but I still have my sense of justice. And I will fight till my brown matters in the eyes of the law and the society in which I live in.

Even if people do not believe I am real

I just want to be

Sinner with the broken wings

How is it that you still sing?

I sing for glory and holy light

I sing with passion to set all right

But when the devil comes to play

I sing with broken wings on display

For I am a sinner through and through

And it is through him that I get to you

Hi! I am queer. I have no safe space. There is no place that welcomes me. Yet, I am supposed to delude myself into thinking that there is. I know that I am not wanted but I have been told that it is better to think that there is.

I used to have someone I could talk to. A person who I felt like would always be there for me. Sure we would fight every once in awhile. I can not tell you the amount of times I told them I hated them. But I was raised in a home where family was supposed to mean everything. When your parents are gone you only have your cousins, your siblings, your aunts and uncle, to stand by your said. So for this person to betray me as they did hurts. It hurts so fucking bad because at one point there were my best friend.

See my coming out story was pretty bland. Which, I should be grateful that it ended up being that way seeing as others can not say the same. My mother was one of the first I told and she was super cool about it. Way to cool if we are being honest because she soon told me about all the girls friends she had while I was younger and would often ask for peoples numbers while we were out and about. Really, nothing screams “please kill me” moments like watching as your mother flirts with people of all genders anytime she walked out the house. So yes, my coming out was pretty bland.

I had some people who made my life hell but they really didn’t matter. My mother was ok with it. As was my siblings. But that soon changed. A few years back my sister discovered christ and what used to be ok was now one of the things that tore us apart. Now, she spends every moment she can sprouting bible verses and telling me I will go to hell. That I am an abusive mother because I surround my kid in such sinful teachings. She talks about race a lot as well. Blaming white people for all of our problems and how they need to eradicated. But I am the monster.

No one seems to care though. My mother, the women who made my coming out story so boring and uneventful is now constantly telling me that I need to forgive her. Because when she is gone my sister is all I will have left. But what my mother doesn’t understand is that I am used to being alone. I don’t need such toxic people in my life to make myself feel something anymore. So why should I forgive her?

If I am going to hell I rather it be because the love I chose to live with over the hate I would have should I hide.

Forgive me for I have sinned

I have loved and I have felt
An emotion close to death.
I have struggled till I bleed.
Questioned lies and refused to leave.

Forgive me as I sin because what I feel can be explained as something close to contempt.

To a hatred so full of rage,  not even hell could fathom my pain

Excuse me as I sin again. Curse the name who brought so much shame. Curse to hell over and over again.

So much blood…so much lost. Does it even matter the cost?

When a fellow man stabbed another behind their backs?
Robbed them of a life so dear.

How am I suppose to feel???
Tell me Lord , for I have sinned, and I will do it over and over again.
Damn him to hell for what he has done.

People lie and say he tried to be the perfect son.

Using your name to commit such crimes!
And if this was all right
What does that make me???
Just a mindless sheep lost in despair.
No please God don’t let this be.
Don’t let this man be the key.           

Don’t let him give power to the hate.
To fuel the fires that would destroy heavens gates.
In your name sin was done. Man took the life of a mother’s son.
Said his goodbyes and he huddled and sobbed. Said his goodbyes before his life was robbed.

Please God no more. Stop!
Preachers talking about how this an act of you.
Snatching away the freedom we thought we knew.
Taking stuff



Media changes stories as they go along and yet there are moms without their kids, fathers who look back and can’t remember the last time they laughed.
What’s the point in smiling when evil is allowed to be free. Death was welcomed, but the demons thrive, covering, themselves in your holy light.

What say we the sheep who are blamed for our brethren killing in your name.
What say we as we gather close, our children to young to know such a place.
Crying tears and living in disgrace. Because we dared to live by your means when our loved ones and friends are being killed on the streets.

Excuse me Lord as I sin.
As I question how nearly losing a friend is ok to those who spread your words laced with hate. Preaching how this is our fate because we choose to lay with those of the same sex.
Blown away and scattered far
forced to live alone or not live at all.
What life am I suppose to lead?

Why God why?
Why do we allow free speech to turn us into monsters?
Why God? Why!!?

Why am I hanging my head in shame.
Why do I have the urge to forsake your name because others hate me so. Because people take your word and twist it to fit their needs, killing those they deem unworthy to breath. Different zones are destroyed daily.

In your  Lord…in your name

Excuse me as I sin once more.
I don’t know what to do. Instead of uniting we are dividing. Between what’s black and white, no longer grey. No more of this guessing game.
Speak to me my lord, tell me what to do. Cause I am at a loss about why a man would shoot up a place and still people defend him. While I am conflicted with being happy for his death but sad that he didn’t suffer more. What kind of Christian am I to allow this rage to festor and grow. Until I don’t know who I am anymore.

Please Lord. Make it clear what path is right and which path is driven by fear.