Historic Leaders Back From the Dead to Save U.S. from Trump 

February 1 marked Trump’s first day of his first Black History Month as President of the United States. His speech was the first of a (nother) series of (more) embarrassing statements, this time implying that he was neither aware of historic abolitionist Frederick Douglass nor informed that Douglass is dead and has been for nearly 122 years.

Following his perplexing speech, best summarized on The Slot, Trump’s spokesperson answered questions with the same confounded ignorance.

“I think the contributions of Frederick Douglass will become more and more,” Spicer said.

Well, they’re back.

Douglass Tubman 2020
@FDouglass2020

Trump and team’s foolishness has resurrected an entire army of dead presidents and iconic civil rights leaders to thwart the destructive plans of this orange-ish villain and save us all from ourselves.

Frederick Douglass rolled over in his grave and began a Twitter account to not only help educate the very monochromatic and Black History-dumb White House administration but to also energize the resistance and, apparently, put his name on the 2020 presidential ballot. In fact, Trump’s foolishness has resurrected an entire army of dead presidents and iconic civil rights leaders to thwart the destructive plans of this orange-ish villain and save us all from ourselves.

Douglass Tubman 2020
http://www.frederickdouglass2020.com

Douglass tweeted to Trump, “Gearing up for 2020 campaign…and you thought dead registered voters were your biggest problem.”

His running mate? No less than Queen Moses herself, Harriet Tubman. The two have since adopted a campaign slogan in response to Spicer’s absurd statement (which I developed for them, you’re welcome!) “Doing More than More and More. Doing The Most,” developed their campaign website, and have awoken other leaders from their tombs as well.

Octavia Reese
@octaviaaivatco

It’s true, the long-deceased American icons won’t stay dead while Trump brashly and thoughtlessly undoes centuries of their hard work.

This team of magically invoked super heroes includes Douglass’s wife, Anna Murray Douglass (@FLOTUS20Twenty), Sojourner Truth (@SojoTruth2020) and former president John Quincy Adams (@NortoriusJQA).

While some have been waiting for the second coming of Christ to get us out of this, it looks like all we need right now is a comic book-worthy team of dead abolitionists and presidents. In addition to being highly entertaining, the Douglass campaign is already awakening sleeping lessons of the past, shining a light on our very powerful African-American heritage and giving a timely voice to our ancestors’ contributions. Looking forward to history leading the resistance from beyond.

Doing the Most for America.

Douglass Tubman 2020
@FDouglass2020

~OR

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Don’t Recover. Adapt.

The news makes me want to vomit. I’m demoralized by the American presidential election, disgusted with the global rejection of those displaced by war, confused by war period, angry at routine segregation and oppression, and the rampant injustice and violence makes my insides curdle.

But if recovery is getting back to normal and normal  is slaughtering, ravaging, ridiculing and degrading our neighbors, then I don’t want it. I don’t want to go back to a normal where fear begets discrimination and pride births peonage.

I hate that we’ve almost forgotten about Emily Doe simply because another tragedy upstaged the atrocity. I hate it. I hate that we saunter from one sickening unnecessary evil to another. I hate the heartache. And somehow, this pain is so familiar to me.

I stand in solidarity with Emily Doe. One night I shared a taxi with a close friend. We agreed to drop me off first. And then he asked to use my bathroom. Of course. Why not. I told him to use it and let himself out. I was exhausted and going to bed. I said goodbye. And then I woke up to the sound of my bed knocking against the wall; my sweatpants waistband closer to my knees than my ribs. I’ll stop there. I won’t say I was raped. He did stop. But I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months. I want to move. I want a new bed. I want to burn my sheets. Just like Emily wrote, “I wanted to take off my body like a jacket” and throw it out with the garbage. I still do. I get it, Emily. I ache with you.

And Orlando. God. The agony radiates through my soul. My stomach crawls up into my throat every time I try to read the details of the horrific night. I wish I didn’t know what it’s like to lose someone to violence, too. I wish I wasn’t familiar with getting middle-of-the-night calls that someone has been shot. Killed. I wish I didn’t know what it’s like to huddle on the floor in a corner and pray the bullets miss you. And your brother. And your mom. I wish I hadn’t been to more funerals than weddings – two of them children, murdered in the streets. I wish I hadn’t lost my dad without saying goodbye. I get it. To all the family and friends off the victims, I ache with you.

I don’t just empathize. I understand. I cry with you.  And it sucks. And it doesn’t get better. It doesn’t get easier. And I hope to God we don’t recover.

re cov er

As I – we – are surrounded by loss, I’ve realized two simple truths: 100% of people will die. 100% of people have faith (even if you believe in nothing, you must believe in that nothing with all of your soul). So it makes sense that 100% of people will experience grief at some point. Whether it is the loss of a life, the dissolution of a relationship, a stabbing violation of trust, the pain and betrayal is universal. You are not alone. 100% of people understand.

All of us have experienced a version of emotional trauma that leaves us with a gaping void in our spirit.

Most people will try to ignore the emptiness. It’s so much easier to remain where we are comfortable and unchallenged. We act like everything is fine. We try to recover. We try to go back to normal. But if recovery is getting back to normal and normal is slaughtering, ravaging, ridiculing and degrading our neighbors, then I don’t want it. I don’t want to go back to a normal where fear begets discrimination and pride births peonage.

I don’t want to make a recovery to that. I want a relovery. I want to adapt. I pray that we will adapt.

Adapt to lead with love.

Adapt to allow space to grieve.

Adapt to remember.

Adapt to be nonjudgmental of our neighbors. All of our neighbors.

Adapt to look within ourselves first.

Adapt to identify our prejudices and control our actions.

Adapt to own our emotions.

Adapt to respect others’ emotions.

Adapt to uplift others’ decisions.

Adapt to celebrate our differences.

Adapt to be a willing student.

Adapt to use I-phrases; not you-phrases.

Adapt to stop blaming.

Adapt to admit fault.

Adapt to apologize.

Adapt to be brave.

Adapt to let go.

Adapt to name our fears, insecurities, and silence them from the inside out.

Adapt to improve someone’s life, not take advantage of it.

Adapt to honor your neighbor as yourself.

Adapt to make unselfish decisions.

Adapt to protect and care for strangers.

Adapt to ask for help.

Adapt to constructively cope with dissonance.

Adapt to release control.

Adapt to include instead of condemn.

Adapt to be confident.

Adapt to know when to stop.

Adapt to speak up.

Adapt to accept.

Adapt to back off.

Adapt to listen.

Adapt to learn someone’s story.

Adapt to see people.

Adapt to be thoughtful. Curious. Caring. Gentle.

Adapt to be kind.

Adapt to heal.

Adapt to unite.

Adapt to forgive.

Adapt to understand.

Adapt to empathize.

Adapt to love.

This much I know is true: we will find a new normal. We’ll eventually stop crying every day. One day, we’ll stop thinking about it every day. One night, we won’t have nightmares, or cry ourselves to sleep. Or replay the instant over and over again. One day we won’t occupy that strange space of something that is ending. One day relief will come for longer than a handful of minutes a few times a day.

One day we won’t occupy that strange space of something that is ending.

But some days the sadness will feel fresh again. Real. Surface-level. Raw. It might be in a year. It might be in five years. It might be in two months. We might get dizzy when the wave hits us. When what’s left of that empty pit of loss peeks out from our core and tugs at our memories. It could be a smell. Or a song. Or a stranger’s voice in the distance that has an eerily familiar cadence. It won’t get easier. It won’t get better. But we will adapt.

~OR

#speakwoman #prayfororlando #peacefororlando #gaypride #orlandopride #weareorlando #adapt #recover #stoptheviolence #regrouprebootrebuild #emilydoe #rape #roadtorelovery

White People: Shut Up About Beyoncé

YES. There’s nothing I can add to make this any more powerful or spot on. Nailed it.

Bitter Gertrude

After the release of her game-changing, brilliant video, Formation, and the stir her Superbowl halftime show caused with dancers dressed like Black Panthers, Beyoncé is blowing up everyone’s feeds everywhere. And one thing I am shocked/notshocked to see is white outrage about both.

Let me begin by saying that I’m not a Beyoncé fan. I’m not a fan of any of the pop divas. I don’t have anything against them; it’s just not music that interests me. So Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Madonna, Mariah, Adele, I apologize, but I’m sure you and your massive success could not possibly care less that I would rather be listening to punk or classical. The only reason I’m pointing this out is to make sure you know I’m not a Beyoncé fan. This is not about defending a beloved star.

Let me tell you what it IS about.

The vast majority of Black people…

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write yourself well – read yourself better

Blogging is hard. Blogging is especially hard when your blogging isn’t what keeps your lights on. Blogging is especially super mega hard when you want to put all your stuff out there, but…you can’t put all your stuff out there.

What’s not hard, is going to my Happy Place when I feel overwhelmed and frustrated – whether by my own doing or external. When I need to escape or need to be reminded of what I really love in all this world – besides my adorable children – I close my eyes, take a deep breath and envision my alternate reality. That’s right, what I really love in this world – besides my adorable children – is the power of imaginative creativity.

So that’s where I went. That’s where I’ve been. Playing with my imaginary friends and getting ready to continue their story. The next volume is long overdue, but here she comes. Taryn and her gang are back. And I am so excited – thrilled – and healed – because of her.

Get ready for Volume 3 – there’s plenty of time to catch up on the first two novellas. Check ’em out!

Want to read a piece? Check out one of my favorite chapters here on LinkedIn.

the hibouleans octavia reese~OR

The Day I Knew

Another one I can relate to… that feeling of being together and alone all at once – desperately clinging to the idea that things will get better when so much of you knows they won’t – realizing you’re just not good together – acknowledging you both deserve to be happy but neither of you are – learning that leaving is better than aching and being ignored…

The Fickle Heartbeat

Back To The Sea

Shared by 8675309.

I woke up one day, and I hurt. Because my life had been lived for just a few years for the needs of others, yet there were no longer any others. My aunt for whom I was a daily caregiver had passed away. You spent all your time at the casino or on the computer. Your daughter only came to us on the weekend and she barely needed me. I had no hobbies, few friends, no children. So I took the time to improve myself. I lost forty pounds, I improved your home. Still you didn’t notice me. We still had sex. We still slept together. Men would do little chivalrous things for me and I would fantasize about what it would be like for you to care enough to do those things for me. I made time for you. You went to the casino and sat…

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Dating – A Class I Never Want to Take Again

HA! I’m almost at this point… that //barely passing-so ready for graduation-throws cap (dating apps) in the air, never to be retrieved again// point…
~OR

I Quit Dating

When I first started this blog 5 months ago, I was still reeling over my last fling.

I was sad, upset, hurt, mad, and still in disbelief that I arrived at this point.

So what better way to bend my broken heart than to start a blog for the soul purpose of expressing all those feelings while semi-bashing the men who came into my life like lovable tornadoes?

At first I quit dating because of all the feelings that I described above. All those feelings of sadness and hurt and resentment that rushes through us. I did not want to date again because my sad self could not bear to be hurt again. I needed time. I needed to heal. I needed to feel.

And then I got over that.

I stopped being sad and traded the tears for anger. I was angry at these people for ditching someone like me…

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Can Guys and Girls “Just be Friends”?

Interesting. I always felt like I could hang with guys and have it not be weird. But I have to admit, it is weird. While I LOVE my guy friends, at some point (usually years later…thinking back to college) I am the fool because one or more of them admit to having had a crush on me.
Awkward.
I also feel like you get a pass if you’re both married or both in serious relationships because then, at least for mature adults with self control, you know better than to cross boundaries. Anyway, take a gander…

The Fickle Heartbeat

justfriends

Shared by zombiedrew2

A buddy of mine (who happens to be married) recently came across an old girlfriend, and they ended up going for lunch and catching up on each other’s lives. He mentioned this to me because they ended up exchanging numbers and talked about getting together again, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Especially because he enjoyed seeing her, and it brought back happy memories of the times they shared.

For anyone who’s a regular reader on thezombieshuffle.com, I’m pretty sure you can guess my advice. Umm, did I mention that he’s married? Yeah, he is. From talking to people, and reading assorted relationship books and blogs I know his situation is far from unique. I’ve touched on thoughts on straying when your relationship is in a rut and on affairs before. But I thought this story provided me with an opportunity to…

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