Sitting, minding my own business and enjoying the natural warmth, I am chill and just relaxing while waiting on the train back to Sacramento. The weather is breezy and the skies are wide open revealing a near breathtaking, mid-day blue. The soft smell of pine occasionally visits my sense of smell as the wind carries it with a gentle, refreshing breeze. Just the right amount of warmth caresses the back of my neck, concentrated on the spot right below the hairline on the back of my neck and right above my right shoulder. The mood is incredibly soothing.
In my own world, I am at ease. Then here it comes, corruption in the form of yet another one of these little water head boys from Richmond. Well, I can’t exactly say he is a young boy, because he could have been about my age. He stood about two inches taller than me. His clothes hung off of him like end of the day clothes tossed on the end of a chair after a long day. His dark colored, pink and purple striped button up hung off his narrow shoulders and looked two sizes too big. Underneath he wore a dingy, wrinkled, white t-shirt that hung on him like a night-gown. His jeans were baggy and raggedy. He walked up with a swagger that I’ve seen a thousand times before; swaying side to side with the appearance of being relaxed and cool.
With a posture uglier than his outfit, that he thought he was doing something with, he stood sloppy blocking my sun ray. “Hay, how u doin’,” was his way of breaking my ignoring of him. Eyes squinted, forehead wrinkled with obvious irritation of his presence, I slowly raised my head. His face was scruffy and teeth were positioned in his mouth like prison bars. The brothah had the nerve to have on a wave cap that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. He went through the usual questions about where I’m from and if I had a man then made the usual propositions of becoming my man on the side or becoming the better boyfriend that I’ve never had. I gagged a bit as I tallied up his penalties. Not only was the presentation pitiful, but he stood incredibly too close and touched my hair. EWWWW!!!
Then he said something that made me roll my eyes regardless of how much priceless game he thought he was poppin. “Richmond stays in the news. You ain’t know?” he asked proudly. “Yeah, for killing yourselves,” I answered while giving all the obvious body signs of “step the hell off.” While saying good-bye and trying to rekindle any slight chance he had at getting my digits, he finally walked away.
What’s so sad about it is that this is not the only time a young Black man from Richmond or Oakland has said something about being in the news and being proud about it. Since most of the news I have heard has been about the self inflicted genocide, I don’t see what one has to be proud about. A documentary aired on the History Channel not too long ago. I believe it is a series about notorious gangs in America. One night while browsing the tube, I came across one done on Oakland. I though immediately about how those young fools probably feel proud instead of ashamed. And oh how I was right. This attitude is disgusting and would make it much harder to fix the issue and end the genocide. If only those fools could see it. More and more Black men are dying each year. Like what Chris Rock said, the African American is going to be an exhibit in a museum. Without Black men, how can one have Black women, Black children, or even a Black future? I once heard that America was perceived as a melting pot, but all I see is the melting of the African American into non-existence.
In my own world, I am at ease. Then here it comes, corruption in the form of yet another one of these little water head boys from Richmond. Well, I can’t exactly say he is a young boy, because he could have been about my age. He stood about two inches taller than me. His clothes hung off of him like end of the day clothes tossed on the end of a chair after a long day. His dark colored, pink and purple striped button up hung off his narrow shoulders and looked two sizes too big. Underneath he wore a dingy, wrinkled, white t-shirt that hung on him like a night-gown. His jeans were baggy and raggedy. He walked up with a swagger that I’ve seen a thousand times before; swaying side to side with the appearance of being relaxed and cool.
With a posture uglier than his outfit, that he thought he was doing something with, he stood sloppy blocking my sun ray. “Hay, how u doin’,” was his way of breaking my ignoring of him. Eyes squinted, forehead wrinkled with obvious irritation of his presence, I slowly raised my head. His face was scruffy and teeth were positioned in his mouth like prison bars. The brothah had the nerve to have on a wave cap that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. He went through the usual questions about where I’m from and if I had a man then made the usual propositions of becoming my man on the side or becoming the better boyfriend that I’ve never had. I gagged a bit as I tallied up his penalties. Not only was the presentation pitiful, but he stood incredibly too close and touched my hair. EWWWW!!!
Then he said something that made me roll my eyes regardless of how much priceless game he thought he was poppin. “Richmond stays in the news. You ain’t know?” he asked proudly. “Yeah, for killing yourselves,” I answered while giving all the obvious body signs of “step the hell off.” While saying good-bye and trying to rekindle any slight chance he had at getting my digits, he finally walked away.
What’s so sad about it is that this is not the only time a young Black man from Richmond or Oakland has said something about being in the news and being proud about it. Since most of the news I have heard has been about the self inflicted genocide, I don’t see what one has to be proud about. A documentary aired on the History Channel not too long ago. I believe it is a series about notorious gangs in America. One night while browsing the tube, I came across one done on Oakland. I though immediately about how those young fools probably feel proud instead of ashamed. And oh how I was right. This attitude is disgusting and would make it much harder to fix the issue and end the genocide. If only those fools could see it. More and more Black men are dying each year. Like what Chris Rock said, the African American is going to be an exhibit in a museum. Without Black men, how can one have Black women, Black children, or even a Black future? I once heard that America was perceived as a melting pot, but all I see is the melting of the African American into non-existence.
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