The countless murders of Black people by police, the rape and violence perpetrated against Black women and children, and brothers killing each other, along with a society that is confused on what consent means and when to apply it, have me worn out. A shift has taken place over the last week. At least with me, it has.

As I’ve dealt with all the privilege that floats down my social media timelines, I’ve felt a pull. That pull is leading me closer to my destiny. I abhor all the isms that make this life unbearable for so many. I abhor the people who use “isms” as navigational tools the most. That Black people support white supremacy without even thinking about it, is very concerning. As a people, we accept so much and question so little, where it matters.

The shift that took place happened after I published a piece on cultural appropriation. A topic which burns me up and warrants discussion. As a Social Justice writer and activist, I put uncomfortable shit out there. We have to deal with it. Some white people on my friend’s list are not dealing well with my Pro-Black Queer Stance on equality and advancing this Mighty Race. Marcus Garvey was onto something, so was Brother Malcolm.

I know that now. I extended an olive branch in the name of “I’m not always right and I’m big enough to admit that.”  As I explained in the article, my white friend and I both artists, both outspoken, and will go toe-to-toe for our beliefs. We worked through our stuff, it was hard. I wasn’t backing down, she wasn’t either.

Last night, I get an inbox from another Facebook friend, also white.  She cautioned me against alienating white people with my anti-white posts. Let’s also be clear on the fact that I’m not anti-white. I’m against white supremacy. Two completely different things. On top of that, she and I aren’t close Facebook friends. She rarely comments on my posts, it’s happened maybe twice in five years.

I’m like man I am so over white people who refuse to do their anti-privilege work before stepping to me. With this shift I’m channeling not only Garvey and Malcolm X, I’m rolling with Dr. King, Mother Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, Nat Turner. I’m so over it. I want to drag edges with Maya Angelou’s poems as my shield. I’m channeling Yoruba Priestesses and Priest. All.Of.This.

I’m feeling every bit. I’ve been an advocate for justice and equality a long time. The world has changed in the thirty + years since I’ve come of age.  I don’t recognize people I thought I knew. I’m so concerned for the children. They don’t get to remain innocent long enough. I’m concerned for our elders. Who’s really looking out for them?

We haven’t even had our post-slavery discussion talks yet. No real town hall gatherings where we check in and love and love on each other have happened on a large enough scale for me. We’ve survived so much and yet the struggle continues.

My recent shift entrenches me deeper on the path for Black Liberation for my people. White supremacy be damned, my armor is on and there ain’t no turning back. I’m using my pen and the blood of millions of Black people as strength. If people handle the truth and they have privilege on their side and aren’t using it to right the horrific wrongs that exist, I have no use for them. Not an iota.

I’m about freedom and equality for Black people. When redlining and gentrification are stopped, and Black education means quality education reflecting the cultural greatness of Black people in this country and the world, when school  administrators stop stealing from babies, housing is affordable, and child care doesn’t make working outside the home futile, when food deserts in Black communities are banished and instead are overflowing with well-tended community gardens, and libraries are opened and functional in urban neighborhoods, when my people stop breathing in toxins that corporations pump into poor neighborhoods, and health care is not only affordable but accessible, when people dying of cancer and hypertension are treated, and stress from being poor and tired is lifted, I’ll take a break. But, as long as the fuckery continues, I’m in the game.

Copyright 2017 by Imani Williams. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.