i dont know what it is with me
but bare with me. i have to put my truth out no matter how much it offends various quarters.
my sleep has become an odd haven
i am never just resting, wandering or travelling on adventures
now it seems it is all purpose filled and driven
i am either encountering future parts of my self that is given to prepare for
or getting insight into battling enemies and becoming victorious
or setting my sights, clarifying goals
talking myself into my destiny
clearing cobwebs, deadweight and wrong energy
but this morning's sleep...seems i was just making list, asking myself where am i going
clarifying it is not to state what i dont want but what i want
and whilst doing that it seemed i was asking myself questions about my realities
when i got to rectifying what happened to me in 2013
and that is another interesting peg in my existence by the way
information is coming to me, it is a long held and across cultures and philosophies...
the belief that sometimes wrong must be done by righteous people to bring correction...i have not yet gotten to doing wrong but i am glad to know...that is the kind of preparing i spoke of a few lines ago...but
i asked myself...why am i willing to correct wrong done me now at this stage and not before decades ago when it was king's county hospital and my brother, or when it was in the late 90s with my father. and the way i set up the question answers everything...it was before. i was younger. i was more naive. i was more idealistic. I had a greater longer horizon before me. I felt any and everything was possible. we get to lines though. but as i pondered my father and his stories. the things he has done me. my status in life because of him . i came to this. and it is peculiar i find that i never came to this realization before:
black men are a disservice if not the enemy of black women.
yeah. i know. disturbing to come from my hand. given my life . but again. the truth is that i was living and admitting only part thereof; not the whole thing.
i am now considering my father toward me. and how he as disinherited me. by putting all his ownerships and businesses and assets into his young wife's name. a wife that is indian. that is what got me on this rabbit hole. I was for the first time matching the shenanigans in the national landscape of trinidad and realizing ...hmmm did i not, have i not been introduced to these shapeshiftring manipulations and smartwomen in cindy. and i wondered what manner of women, why and whom...and it got to me and carl huggins...
my father did good in his life. i was afforded a privileged lifestyle because of him. but when he moved back to trinidad. whose land did he return to? Not his own of his making but his mothers, which was owned and lived on my by her mother before her. so for two generations black women owned land on montserrat hills. the son comes and appropriates it. he built a house that was for her ostensibly but then he lived in it and alienated her from it. that is an ugly story i have never written about in public. I am sure some event will happen somewhere, externally or internally to spur me sprouting that story.
but it hit me today. I as a black woman am struggling against so many forces to build my hand. and who and what is most palpable in that struggle"? other black women who fear and feel i want to take from them what they think they alone own. but the men. chase last year, my father decades before. men in the landscape like paul quinn who refuse to help me after meeting me for i dont know what reason. but exclude that last bit. that is in my mind as parts and rivers i must cross over but he is not really in the equation nor matters. but it hit me. black men. have undermined me. have weakened me. have robbed from me. where i was rich an in standing they swiped and removed money, access and ownership from me. what made me rise from my muse this morning was that. my father prime and first integer among them, and there have only been two. and both in trinidad. have been my enemy .
and look at the nature of it.
land and holdings that was never in any man's hand in my family, in my paternal family. owned by my grandmother Ruth Huggins and before her, her mother, my great grandmother, AnaLiza Huggins...my father, Carl, now comes to transfer to an indian woman and family.
sit with that a moment.
so in one fell swoop my inheritance is taken from me
dont see the need to ride out on horses and demons and kill people
destroy their living and standing
if you cant walk righteously, dont walk at all kind of thing
so i suffer for this iniquity. and make no mistake, i have been suffering
my father once tried to make a deal with me and asked me which one of the houses and land i wanted and in a huff i said i wanted nothing. i was too angry to be sane. but my point to him was I should not have to choose a damn fucking thing.
The first land he owned by right was my inheritance. and peculiar enough my brother is gone. that should have went from my paternal maternal lineage to me, another woman.
Then the second land and house he built he bought by illegally selling my birth mother's house and land in la baja st. joseph. he got some corrupt lawyer to do some shit like that. and then he purchased the land facing west sunset over the savannah, the whole range , 'cross the highway straight to paria. you have a full 180 view from that spot.
what the fuck is he talking about which one do i want. all belong to me.
but at the time I was so in fealty and loyalty too and in a mindset that i did not have a hand in making building or buying; nor sweating sleeping, shlepping or slaving for the anything held by anyone of my parents and if neither of them saw it fit to insure for me it was not my role to fight for it.
but what has happened. life has taken its turns to show me that is all i can do. that is the only thing before me to do. that despite my attempt to build my self up by education and experiences to have my own, i have to fight still . fight for income. fight for the right to earn a living. fight for employment. fight for space and entry to build businesses. fight to be noticed . in a country where the black men with something...ask yourself and observe who they are with. if they are keeping the wealth inside or burning it, lightening it, distributing it to those not of their own ilk. do their wives look like their mothers.
black men are black women's enemies.
I swear when i saw other women like kola boof write that I never thought ever it would come from me, my experience but there it is
and i still dont know what i would do about carl huggins.
i sometimes have vision that when he dies i got straight up that mountain and put that bitch out.
oh. i never told you of her treachery. and the character we are speaking of, which is where i started this mental revelry.. what is it with these women and are they any different from any other kind of women? I just know what i have been told...always..that indian women are tricky, strategist and serious players for riches, money, status, standings.
anyway, my mother hired this nineteen year old to help her in the store. it was the last store remaining ...they had sold the other eight or nine. my mother hired this girl from gran couva.
Cindy told me her self since i came home. since my mother's demise and death.. since the intervening years...her story. her rendering:
"that from the first she saw my father, she wanted him. she intended he will be hers. she had to have him" this while my father was married. my mother living. my mother with lupus. my mother the co-creator of their empire.
so i am not just seizing upon this woman to dump on ...i am telling you what she has said is her personal life story. and i myself was too stunned, too close, too confused, too present to contend with her. and she would be surprised if she encounters me again because i was nothing but kind to her. overkind. i used to think and wonder back then what was wrong with me why i was so accepting of her but i saw no use in fighting fights that were not mine...and there is the error eh. we often feel someone else fight is not ours. but if we stand long enough and think long enough we would realize their opposition is in fact my enemy
i have written before. men with family, whomever you want to take and fuck and live with. when you have a family and children, keep them wenches out the family home. go find your new and elsewhere...
the other thing that hits me in all of this is the requirement and seminal aspect of consciousness. these negro mother fuckers (never a more apt term) think they are just living their lives, making their choices, loving who they wish, not recognizing there is such a thing as black reality. black life. black statistics.
so when in the national landscape media people, researchers or bloggers want to outline what black people have in relation to all the things all the other ethnic groups have i want you motherfuckers to think about who you marry, who you share wealth, money and ownership to and who you disinherit. when you destroy the holdings of a black woman you are prescribing the downfall and ruin of yourself.
i sit here still undecided whether i will ride in on an armageddon to correct this record, this one story. but it hit me like a ton of bricks the realization. that black men, my father, has been the enemy of black women.
my father richest of all. he as been the enemy of his mother, his grandmother's legacy, his wife's contribution to his life and a criminal to his daughter's legacy. this man who listened to farakhan on sunday mornings in brooklyn. life is amazing eh.
The twists of yesteryear may have nothing to do with the current path bending.
black men of wealth and money: who do you see them giving it to?
but bare with me. i have to put my truth out no matter how much it offends various quarters.
my sleep has become an odd haven
i am never just resting, wandering or travelling on adventures
now it seems it is all purpose filled and driven
i am either encountering future parts of my self that is given to prepare for
or getting insight into battling enemies and becoming victorious
or setting my sights, clarifying goals
talking myself into my destiny
clearing cobwebs, deadweight and wrong energy
but this morning's sleep...seems i was just making list, asking myself where am i going
clarifying it is not to state what i dont want but what i want
and whilst doing that it seemed i was asking myself questions about my realities
when i got to rectifying what happened to me in 2013
and that is another interesting peg in my existence by the way
information is coming to me, it is a long held and across cultures and philosophies...
the belief that sometimes wrong must be done by righteous people to bring correction...i have not yet gotten to doing wrong but i am glad to know...that is the kind of preparing i spoke of a few lines ago...but
i asked myself...why am i willing to correct wrong done me now at this stage and not before decades ago when it was king's county hospital and my brother, or when it was in the late 90s with my father. and the way i set up the question answers everything...it was before. i was younger. i was more naive. i was more idealistic. I had a greater longer horizon before me. I felt any and everything was possible. we get to lines though. but as i pondered my father and his stories. the things he has done me. my status in life because of him . i came to this. and it is peculiar i find that i never came to this realization before:
black men are a disservice if not the enemy of black women.
yeah. i know. disturbing to come from my hand. given my life . but again. the truth is that i was living and admitting only part thereof; not the whole thing.
i am now considering my father toward me. and how he as disinherited me. by putting all his ownerships and businesses and assets into his young wife's name. a wife that is indian. that is what got me on this rabbit hole. I was for the first time matching the shenanigans in the national landscape of trinidad and realizing ...hmmm did i not, have i not been introduced to these shapeshiftring manipulations and smartwomen in cindy. and i wondered what manner of women, why and whom...and it got to me and carl huggins...
my father did good in his life. i was afforded a privileged lifestyle because of him. but when he moved back to trinidad. whose land did he return to? Not his own of his making but his mothers, which was owned and lived on my by her mother before her. so for two generations black women owned land on montserrat hills. the son comes and appropriates it. he built a house that was for her ostensibly but then he lived in it and alienated her from it. that is an ugly story i have never written about in public. I am sure some event will happen somewhere, externally or internally to spur me sprouting that story.
but it hit me today. I as a black woman am struggling against so many forces to build my hand. and who and what is most palpable in that struggle"? other black women who fear and feel i want to take from them what they think they alone own. but the men. chase last year, my father decades before. men in the landscape like paul quinn who refuse to help me after meeting me for i dont know what reason. but exclude that last bit. that is in my mind as parts and rivers i must cross over but he is not really in the equation nor matters. but it hit me. black men. have undermined me. have weakened me. have robbed from me. where i was rich an in standing they swiped and removed money, access and ownership from me. what made me rise from my muse this morning was that. my father prime and first integer among them, and there have only been two. and both in trinidad. have been my enemy .
and look at the nature of it.
land and holdings that was never in any man's hand in my family, in my paternal family. owned by my grandmother Ruth Huggins and before her, her mother, my great grandmother, AnaLiza Huggins...my father, Carl, now comes to transfer to an indian woman and family.
sit with that a moment.
so in one fell swoop my inheritance is taken from me
dont see the need to ride out on horses and demons and kill people
destroy their living and standing
if you cant walk righteously, dont walk at all kind of thing
so i suffer for this iniquity. and make no mistake, i have been suffering
my father once tried to make a deal with me and asked me which one of the houses and land i wanted and in a huff i said i wanted nothing. i was too angry to be sane. but my point to him was I should not have to choose a damn fucking thing.
The first land he owned by right was my inheritance. and peculiar enough my brother is gone. that should have went from my paternal maternal lineage to me, another woman.
Then the second land and house he built he bought by illegally selling my birth mother's house and land in la baja st. joseph. he got some corrupt lawyer to do some shit like that. and then he purchased the land facing west sunset over the savannah, the whole range , 'cross the highway straight to paria. you have a full 180 view from that spot.
what the fuck is he talking about which one do i want. all belong to me.
but at the time I was so in fealty and loyalty too and in a mindset that i did not have a hand in making building or buying; nor sweating sleeping, shlepping or slaving for the anything held by anyone of my parents and if neither of them saw it fit to insure for me it was not my role to fight for it.
but what has happened. life has taken its turns to show me that is all i can do. that is the only thing before me to do. that despite my attempt to build my self up by education and experiences to have my own, i have to fight still . fight for income. fight for the right to earn a living. fight for employment. fight for space and entry to build businesses. fight to be noticed . in a country where the black men with something...ask yourself and observe who they are with. if they are keeping the wealth inside or burning it, lightening it, distributing it to those not of their own ilk. do their wives look like their mothers.
black men are black women's enemies.
I swear when i saw other women like kola boof write that I never thought ever it would come from me, my experience but there it is
and i still dont know what i would do about carl huggins.
i sometimes have vision that when he dies i got straight up that mountain and put that bitch out.
oh. i never told you of her treachery. and the character we are speaking of, which is where i started this mental revelry.. what is it with these women and are they any different from any other kind of women? I just know what i have been told...always..that indian women are tricky, strategist and serious players for riches, money, status, standings.
anyway, my mother hired this nineteen year old to help her in the store. it was the last store remaining ...they had sold the other eight or nine. my mother hired this girl from gran couva.
Cindy told me her self since i came home. since my mother's demise and death.. since the intervening years...her story. her rendering:
"that from the first she saw my father, she wanted him. she intended he will be hers. she had to have him" this while my father was married. my mother living. my mother with lupus. my mother the co-creator of their empire.
so i am not just seizing upon this woman to dump on ...i am telling you what she has said is her personal life story. and i myself was too stunned, too close, too confused, too present to contend with her. and she would be surprised if she encounters me again because i was nothing but kind to her. overkind. i used to think and wonder back then what was wrong with me why i was so accepting of her but i saw no use in fighting fights that were not mine...and there is the error eh. we often feel someone else fight is not ours. but if we stand long enough and think long enough we would realize their opposition is in fact my enemy
i have written before. men with family, whomever you want to take and fuck and live with. when you have a family and children, keep them wenches out the family home. go find your new and elsewhere...
the other thing that hits me in all of this is the requirement and seminal aspect of consciousness. these negro mother fuckers (never a more apt term) think they are just living their lives, making their choices, loving who they wish, not recognizing there is such a thing as black reality. black life. black statistics.
so when in the national landscape media people, researchers or bloggers want to outline what black people have in relation to all the things all the other ethnic groups have i want you motherfuckers to think about who you marry, who you share wealth, money and ownership to and who you disinherit. when you destroy the holdings of a black woman you are prescribing the downfall and ruin of yourself.
i sit here still undecided whether i will ride in on an armageddon to correct this record, this one story. but it hit me like a ton of bricks the realization. that black men, my father, has been the enemy of black women.
my father richest of all. he as been the enemy of his mother, his grandmother's legacy, his wife's contribution to his life and a criminal to his daughter's legacy. this man who listened to farakhan on sunday mornings in brooklyn. life is amazing eh.
The twists of yesteryear may have nothing to do with the current path bending.
black men of wealth and money: who do you see them giving it to?
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