Imagine the beauty in Blacks saying ALL LIVES MATTER. And meaning it. Without a qualifier or disclaimer.

They can’t do that. They don’t see anything in it for them.

They don’t share by nature.

People don’t want PITY. They want RESPECT. If you have to earn it, you’ll never get it. Who’s Lording over whom now? Strings. It’s always about the strings.

Your eyes are your greatest asset. Why so negative? Try sweet. Try kind. Try soft. Stop exaggerating everything you think, say and do.

Ditch the anger look. Ditch the ‘I’m going to blow your fuckin’ head off’ look. Nobody needs nor wants to know how angry you are inside. Everybody’s angry. You’re no different.

I’ve lived in the same building with Black Africans for eleven years. I say hello and chat to everyone. If I don’t say hello first, they won’t take the initiative. Eleven years I’ve been doing it.

I’m tired of the silly arrogant game. If I’m talking to a Black person and another Black person walks up, the one I was talking to all of a sudden steps back as if they don’t know me – this was years before coronavirus and self-distancing. I’m tired of that too. I’m tired of no effort from them and me doing all the work of it.

If I go to the mailroom and all Blacks are standing waiting for their mail, they’ll look everywhere but at me. I talk to all of them individually, but when they’re in a group, they clam up and shut down, except to talk to each other. It’s some kind of unwritten rule.

Everybody wants to be a master.

One time I was talking to my husband when we got off the elevator and a Black woman I always speak to got up in my face with her evil eye and rigid body saying ‘what’s the matter, you too good to say hello’. I was shocked out of my attention on my husband. I hadn’t even seen her yet. I can still see that evil eye.

I’m fed up with all the rules they have that change like the wind. It’s as if someone is directing them on how to treat white peoples in any given week.

I’m tired of the drain.

I’ve contributed way too much of my life concerned about black people and all their issues and needs. It never ends. When do they think of anybody but themselves?

I’m ready to move to a different game. This one has gotten old and tedious. Nothing has and nothing will come of it.

I feel like a hostage, being pushed around from one black person to another, silently, like some strange universal force dictates it.

It’s too weird for me.


The Party Of Pity (POP)

The democrats, upon failure to deliver on promises made to be broken anyway, morphed into the Party Of Pity (POP).

They wallow as they mock those who dared to try a new way – one different enough to be called progressive – one that shakes the status quo, loosening past ideals that no longer work, making way for a more workable approach – shaking to the core those seeking to give to a nation in return for their freedom your right to pity them, can’t stop crying over the loss.

What do we have without pity? We offer you our tears.

Will tears pave roads and build bridges and make peace? Will blame for your failure to work harder, with greater ingenuity, integrity and efficiency toward a better life build your future?

Tears are meant for cleansing souls, to clear the way for a cleaner, crisper, more concise view, not as negotiating tools. What is the world going to do with your tears?

Tears destroy neighborhoods by weakening the will – when you cry too long.

“Lick your wounds too long and you make them worse” ~ Lesson from a dog.

You can’t learn from a dog, from another species? Maybe that’s your problem right there. You limit your possibilities by limiting your view, thus constricting your knowledge. You’re above the dog? Well, maybe that’s your problem right there. You think you’re so superior that you shouldn’t have to do the work required to succeed? Let somebody else do it as you wallow in your self-pity and drown in your own tears?

You’re flooding the Goddamn place.

You hide and cry and let the opportunists slide right in to where you used to be and take your pride? Since when do tears, when publicly displayed as negotiating tools, tell a story about triumph? Since when do tears tell a story about anything except giving in and giving up?

Your will belongs to you. You allow others to steal it, then cry in front of the world for somebody to retrieve what you gave away. How about you set the example for you – with every little detail of your existence – design it, control it, be it.

Show yourself who’s boss of you. If you want a partner, you’d better have something other than tears and blame for a condition you allowed to flourish to bring to the negotiating table.


Maybe then the world can recognize you as something other than a flood drowning itself.




The Beginning Of Discrimination

Pity is a precursor to prejudice.

Nobody likes those they pity.

Thus the discrimination begins.




Pity is a form of prejudice.

When you pity someone, you put them beneath you – making yourself superior.

~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight