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Stop Trying to Build Unity—Start Stripping Away the Heavy Noise

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Stop Trying to Build Unity—Start Stripping Away the Heavy Noise We’ve been sold a lie about unity. We’ve been conditioned to believe that building community means adding more to an already exhausted life—more meetings, more emotional labor, more managing other people's chaos while holding your own together with duct tape and willpower. That isn't Umoja. That's martyrdom. In Black America, our survival history taught us to construct thick, impenetrable walls around our spirits. We call it "hyper-independence." We wear "I do it all on my own" like a badge of honor, while inside, we are burdened, exhausted, and stuck in cycles of fear, anger, and isolation. We stack blame, shame, and guilt like rust on pure silver, then wonder why we’ve lost our shine. Here is the hard truth: Umoja is not an addition; it is a subtraction. Through the Gye-Nyame Journey system, we practice via negativa —the power of stripping away what was never meant to be there in the first...
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Final GoodBye III- Writing for Healing

His Story is Mine

His story is mines,
Better yet my story is his,
For now I can no longer deal with what was,
Now I have to deal with what is.
A great tree has fallen in the forest of life,
A tree that provided shade for many and a shelter from strife.
But this is not the end of his tory for his story is mine,
And his story will live through his bloodline for all time.
His story is not over because his story is mine, and I need for his loved ones to read between the lines.
Although his body is gone his spirit is strong, that explains why through the pain and confusion he lived so long.
Fear not because his story is not over because his story is mine,
He has made it to peace and he rest with the divine
We are the seeds and saplings grafted from his tree and now he can rest in comfort for his story can be told by we.
His story is not over, because his story belongs to me
For I am a proud branch on his family tree, I will always remember those that came before, those that struggled like no people before.
Like Miles Brown and the lady known as Ms. Ann their stories will live because it was passed to my hands
Like Herman Brown and Rosa lee
Like Geneva and Herman brown the second, and Cleven Brown now can peacefully join their essence
Although his body has now been returned to the earth
His story and their story has been cemented  in  time by Cleven Miles Brown's birth.
His story his mine, his story is ours, his story is ours.
Now tell it.......

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