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The Weight of False Loyalty: Stripping Down Ujima

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The Weight of False Loyalty: Stripping Down Ujima We’ve been sold a lie wrapped in cultural pride, and it is breaking our backs. For generations, the Black experience in America has glorified obligatory suffering. We’ve been conditioned to wear the titles of "Strong Black Man" and "Strong Black Woman" like badges of honor, when in reality, they are often just heavy yokes of trauma. We take on the "Black Tax," assuming the debts, the drama, and the dysfunction of everyone in our bloodline and our zip code. We mistake trauma-bonding for true tribal building, and it keeps us completely anchored in the lower frequencies of being Mad, Sad, and Scared. Today, we are vibrating on the frequency of Ujima —Collective Work and Responsibility. Bathed in the cool, deep hues of royal and light blue, Ujima is often misunderstood. Folks hear "collective" and immediately start gathering everyone else’s problems, saying "yes" until their own spirit is bo...
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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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