An Open Letter To My Stepkid
Dear Jannah,
There there a few reasons that I write this, the foremost being the obligation to tell my own story, an obligation incited by your unsound attempt to narrate your own excerpt.
The author Nathan McCall is one of my heroes. Our lives parallel at points (he grew up in my parents' neighborhood, went to prison, embraced Islam, became a writer) and I began conversing with him in 2012, which sealed the deal for me. Of course there are detractors, who tell me to be quiet, to "let itgo," but I remain resolute. There's another favorite author of mine who suffered for not being quiet. Instead she spoke up...and got shot in the face for 3 words. Those 3 words that brought her a world of pain, set her, and many others free. She said, "I am Malala," and changed the world.
I am not Malala, but she is like me - I gotta a big mouth, and of course you know I'm going to reply to anyone who claps at me in the craven way you did. It's easy, isn't it? To castigate someone who isn't present, but in the words of another dope author, "I am not your Negro."
I was a bit disquieted to read your comment on Ashlé's post, but lemme note here that by itself, her post is superficial and irrelevant. She hardly actually knows me and is merely one of the Harpy's flying monkeys, who will vilify me in one breath, and beg me to let her into my club in the next. She facilitated the Harpy and I talking and meeting. So her diatribe, as usual, is bullshit. But that is the general nature of flying monkeys (I hope you've seen The Wiz). Her post only became notable because of your reply, and the Harpy realizing her lies are unraveling and have serious legal ramifications, jumped all over it, presenting it to the DA. You got used, Punkin. There's no merit to my case, so the only strategy left, is to attack my past and my character. You're only a pawn on the board, and your sacrifice is in vain. The Harpy knows your comments don't have much currency, so she attempted to to recruit your mama to cosign, but that has only distressed my baby mama, so #fail. You see, despite my past, my flaws, and my regrets, the reality that everyone knows, is that I am, and have always been, a good person. That very fact is d to by numerous people, most of them women, who are showing me mad support. Even ex-wife #2 stepped to my lawyer to give testimony about the dope husband, stepfather, and person, I am. Even worse for the Harpy is the additional fact that her own past criminal convictions and character is going to be put on center stage at my trial. It will not only shame her, it will set me free.
There is a hadith of our Prophet, saying the Last Day is preceded by a time when the "slave will give birth to her master" - a "slave" meaning "mothers" and "master" meaning her children. We live in a time now where elders are not respected and children disrespect, coerce, and try to control the people who brought them into the world/who raised them. While my baby mama is vexed and controlled by the actions of her children, I am not. I raised you, but like James Baldwin said, "I am not your nigger," even though you need me to be.
"#FreeTaj" is an idea, a "thing" for a reason Punkin. The main one being the Harpy is a congenital liar, many already know it, and more and more people are learning it, many (unfortunately) through first hand experience. Your mother and I didn't raise you to be anyone's flying monkey. We raised you to be, especially, a critical thinker. So, it is most troubling to see you employing intellectual dishonesty. Whenever I see a kid's diatribe against a parent, I'm always skeptical first, as a rule. Karrine Steffans (another favorite author of mine, not because she dated a brother named Taj) did it in her first book. She wrote a chapter starting with, "Why I Hate My Mother," and went on to detail her career as a hip hop industry whore. I often wonder if she imagined how her son feels growing up with a mother known as "Superhead" if she would have realized how asinine the condemnation of her mother is.
I acknowledge, to your chagrin, that I say I raised you or that I refer to you as my stepkid, but that too, is simply reality. I raised you in the stead of your own father (this is not a pot-shot, my book "Black Dad" will explain this absence) and under my roof you wanted for nothing, never knew hunger, were never really disciplined..and outside of the time I literally threw you out at 18 for disrespecting my house and authority over a child molester, I never laid a hand on you.
And one thing I certainly did not do, was molest you or your sister, but your stepfather Ronnie did. Here is where your soapboxing needs to be questioned, because you have been perverse in defending him. So much so, that you sought to argue to me, that my calling dude out, was un-Islamic and dishonorable. No, Punkin, what's un-Islamic and dishonorable is committing incest with 2 children, lying about it, and leaving one (you) to confusedly point the finger at your own pops. Shaming an Ummah so much, no one really did anything until I came along. While he covered his guilt by buying you gifts, I thought to keep his fingers out of you, which for some strange reason, created the resentment that eventually tore our family apart. I do take solace in the fact my daughter Shwayyah took Ronnie to task before she died. So you'll pardon if I question the fact that you cape for a nigga that sexually assaulted you, but throw barbs at someone like me.
Here you are now, doing a step-n-fetch, for another sexual predator and liar. If Shwayyah was alive, she'd shame you Punkin.
Since you mentioned amnesia, allow me to jog your memory, since there are some things you must've forgot: You must've forgot that the Harpy said your brother was born retarded as Allah's punishment for your mother being a whore. You must've forgot when she made your little sister sit in her own menses, refusing her the small kindness of giving her a pad. You must've forgot that she said Allah killed Shwayyah as a show of His partiality of her, over your mother. You must've forgot when she stole Sister Saidah's identity, maxed out the credit cards in her name, and when I noticed, blamed it on your sister and her niece. But...wait, maybe you are ignorant of this instead of forgetful, so ask around and/or be patient. I'll show you proof. There are people you can interview like Ansar, Robin Wiley, Nick, Al & Katherine Lewis, all whom she stole from. Go talk to Zsudayka. Go talk to Ietef (simply say: tell me about the baby). Google "Denver Poet Fraud" and after you're done laughing at the "Hoarders" picture thing, realize you don't have to be another Keisha to Cosby. Go talk to Peter Rinaldi's sister Jen, and when you're done, you'll realize what you're doing isn't a good look.
I am going to win this case. I am the first person that has stood up to the Harpy's poison, and it drives her crazy. I am no one's nigger - not her's and not yours. This country needed/ needs it's niggers so that the powers that be do not have to confront it's own inhumanity and to avoid the work it actually takes to be actually just. The Harpy needs me to be her nigger because she cannot confront her own pain, her own evil, and certainly can't let others see it in true light. She certainly cannot let anyone see her obsession with me, I mean, she stalks my social media, though I have her blocked. Despite her claims and calls, she still feels attached to me, but you're not supposed to love your stalker (something you might understand because you're not supposed to love your molester)...right? And sadly, you've needed me to be your nigger.
It's an easier way to deal with the chip on your shoulder, than to deal with your real and valid insecurities and fears...that have more to do with your mother and pops, than me or the "amnesiac community." You can't really cover that pain with painted dots or "vibrant love" slogans Punkin, and we can't heal from being niggers for 500 years trying to make new niggers out of our own people.
You decried an absence of men stepping up, but I have always been that, perhaps you have amnesia about that. Did you forget I paralyzed the guy who raped my girlfriend when she was 15? Did you forget who beat down your distant cousin for raping your Aunt Oretha? Did you forget who you called to rescue your friend Strawberry? Did you forget it was me who stepped up and rescued the Harpy and her kids when her boyfriend smacked her up and threw her on the street?
I'm that same dude who raised, protected, and nurtured you. Bought your first pair of hoop shoes and your first pair of Jays, who gave you your first book of poetry (Langston's), who sent you to Chicago and my people where you bloomed, and no matter how loud you foolishly protest, no matter your diatribes or dissent, no matter how despotic I was to you at times, I have and will always take joy and solace that the dope, beautiful, talented, creative, and artistic woman you are, not only has my stamp on it, it's a stamp all sorts of people acknowledge to this day.
I don't continue to teach, lecture, give khutbahs and sermons, advise, train, or coach because my community has amnesia or doesn't know who I am. You have let resentment make you blind and dishonest, Punkin. But gone are the days where centuries of naivete are still a good excuse. We cannot wish away molesters or be "lovers" without confronting our traumas, or racist oppression, or our tokenism. Our usual methods are failures, so it's time for new paradigms, Punkin.
And so...I am going to triumph here, no matter the trials Allah has written for me, and I'm going to continue narrating my own story with unashamed honesty. It is a story that is a microcosm of our people. The pattern I am laying and following, I believe is a path of healing. I've walked it with Shwayyah. I've walked some of the way with your mother. I even offered to walk this path of healing with the Harpy (#epicoffails). You can choose to walk with me, or not, you and I don't settle here. We'll settle on The Last Day before either of us can enter the actual Jannah.
Lastly, if you're really about activism then don't be about caping for vampires, confront them with Light. Confront Ronnie (you don't need to remember being molested, he does and your sister did, that's enough). Confront the Harpy, there's enough testimony and witnesses, court cases, articles, etc. Or confront the person in the mirror.
I close this letter to you, that it's not just for you. With all it's admonishments, literary references, and most of all, the two things I have always held in reserve for you, and my people(s) unconditionally:
Yours with Hope and Love,
Me.
There there a few reasons that I write this, the foremost being the obligation to tell my own story, an obligation incited by your unsound attempt to narrate your own excerpt.
The author Nathan McCall is one of my heroes. Our lives parallel at points (he grew up in my parents' neighborhood, went to prison, embraced Islam, became a writer) and I began conversing with him in 2012, which sealed the deal for me. Of course there are detractors, who tell me to be quiet, to "let itgo," but I remain resolute. There's another favorite author of mine who suffered for not being quiet. Instead she spoke up...and got shot in the face for 3 words. Those 3 words that brought her a world of pain, set her, and many others free. She said, "I am Malala," and changed the world.
I am not Malala, but she is like me - I gotta a big mouth, and of course you know I'm going to reply to anyone who claps at me in the craven way you did. It's easy, isn't it? To castigate someone who isn't present, but in the words of another dope author, "I am not your Negro."
I was a bit disquieted to read your comment on Ashlé's post, but lemme note here that by itself, her post is superficial and irrelevant. She hardly actually knows me and is merely one of the Harpy's flying monkeys, who will vilify me in one breath, and beg me to let her into my club in the next. She facilitated the Harpy and I talking and meeting. So her diatribe, as usual, is bullshit. But that is the general nature of flying monkeys (I hope you've seen The Wiz). Her post only became notable because of your reply, and the Harpy realizing her lies are unraveling and have serious legal ramifications, jumped all over it, presenting it to the DA. You got used, Punkin. There's no merit to my case, so the only strategy left, is to attack my past and my character. You're only a pawn on the board, and your sacrifice is in vain. The Harpy knows your comments don't have much currency, so she attempted to to recruit your mama to cosign, but that has only distressed my baby mama, so #fail. You see, despite my past, my flaws, and my regrets, the reality that everyone knows, is that I am, and have always been, a good person. That very fact is d to by numerous people, most of them women, who are showing me mad support. Even ex-wife #2 stepped to my lawyer to give testimony about the dope husband, stepfather, and person, I am. Even worse for the Harpy is the additional fact that her own past criminal convictions and character is going to be put on center stage at my trial. It will not only shame her, it will set me free.
There is a hadith of our Prophet, saying the Last Day is preceded by a time when the "slave will give birth to her master" - a "slave" meaning "mothers" and "master" meaning her children. We live in a time now where elders are not respected and children disrespect, coerce, and try to control the people who brought them into the world/who raised them. While my baby mama is vexed and controlled by the actions of her children, I am not. I raised you, but like James Baldwin said, "I am not your nigger," even though you need me to be.
"#FreeTaj" is an idea, a "thing" for a reason Punkin. The main one being the Harpy is a congenital liar, many already know it, and more and more people are learning it, many (unfortunately) through first hand experience. Your mother and I didn't raise you to be anyone's flying monkey. We raised you to be, especially, a critical thinker. So, it is most troubling to see you employing intellectual dishonesty. Whenever I see a kid's diatribe against a parent, I'm always skeptical first, as a rule. Karrine Steffans (another favorite author of mine, not because she dated a brother named Taj) did it in her first book. She wrote a chapter starting with, "Why I Hate My Mother," and went on to detail her career as a hip hop industry whore. I often wonder if she imagined how her son feels growing up with a mother known as "Superhead" if she would have realized how asinine the condemnation of her mother is.
I acknowledge, to your chagrin, that I say I raised you or that I refer to you as my stepkid, but that too, is simply reality. I raised you in the stead of your own father (this is not a pot-shot, my book "Black Dad" will explain this absence) and under my roof you wanted for nothing, never knew hunger, were never really disciplined..and outside of the time I literally threw you out at 18 for disrespecting my house and authority over a child molester, I never laid a hand on you.
And one thing I certainly did not do, was molest you or your sister, but your stepfather Ronnie did. Here is where your soapboxing needs to be questioned, because you have been perverse in defending him. So much so, that you sought to argue to me, that my calling dude out, was un-Islamic and dishonorable. No, Punkin, what's un-Islamic and dishonorable is committing incest with 2 children, lying about it, and leaving one (you) to confusedly point the finger at your own pops. Shaming an Ummah so much, no one really did anything until I came along. While he covered his guilt by buying you gifts, I thought to keep his fingers out of you, which for some strange reason, created the resentment that eventually tore our family apart. I do take solace in the fact my daughter Shwayyah took Ronnie to task before she died. So you'll pardon if I question the fact that you cape for a nigga that sexually assaulted you, but throw barbs at someone like me.
Here you are now, doing a step-n-fetch, for another sexual predator and liar. If Shwayyah was alive, she'd shame you Punkin.
Since you mentioned amnesia, allow me to jog your memory, since there are some things you must've forgot: You must've forgot that the Harpy said your brother was born retarded as Allah's punishment for your mother being a whore. You must've forgot when she made your little sister sit in her own menses, refusing her the small kindness of giving her a pad. You must've forgot that she said Allah killed Shwayyah as a show of His partiality of her, over your mother. You must've forgot when she stole Sister Saidah's identity, maxed out the credit cards in her name, and when I noticed, blamed it on your sister and her niece. But...wait, maybe you are ignorant of this instead of forgetful, so ask around and/or be patient. I'll show you proof. There are people you can interview like Ansar, Robin Wiley, Nick, Al & Katherine Lewis, all whom she stole from. Go talk to Zsudayka. Go talk to Ietef (simply say: tell me about the baby). Google "Denver Poet Fraud" and after you're done laughing at the "Hoarders" picture thing, realize you don't have to be another Keisha to Cosby. Go talk to Peter Rinaldi's sister Jen, and when you're done, you'll realize what you're doing isn't a good look.
I am going to win this case. I am the first person that has stood up to the Harpy's poison, and it drives her crazy. I am no one's nigger - not her's and not yours. This country needed/ needs it's niggers so that the powers that be do not have to confront it's own inhumanity and to avoid the work it actually takes to be actually just. The Harpy needs me to be her nigger because she cannot confront her own pain, her own evil, and certainly can't let others see it in true light. She certainly cannot let anyone see her obsession with me, I mean, she stalks my social media, though I have her blocked. Despite her claims and calls, she still feels attached to me, but you're not supposed to love your stalker (something you might understand because you're not supposed to love your molester)...right? And sadly, you've needed me to be your nigger.
It's an easier way to deal with the chip on your shoulder, than to deal with your real and valid insecurities and fears...that have more to do with your mother and pops, than me or the "amnesiac community." You can't really cover that pain with painted dots or "vibrant love" slogans Punkin, and we can't heal from being niggers for 500 years trying to make new niggers out of our own people.
You decried an absence of men stepping up, but I have always been that, perhaps you have amnesia about that. Did you forget I paralyzed the guy who raped my girlfriend when she was 15? Did you forget who beat down your distant cousin for raping your Aunt Oretha? Did you forget who you called to rescue your friend Strawberry? Did you forget it was me who stepped up and rescued the Harpy and her kids when her boyfriend smacked her up and threw her on the street?
I'm that same dude who raised, protected, and nurtured you. Bought your first pair of hoop shoes and your first pair of Jays, who gave you your first book of poetry (Langston's), who sent you to Chicago and my people where you bloomed, and no matter how loud you foolishly protest, no matter your diatribes or dissent, no matter how despotic I was to you at times, I have and will always take joy and solace that the dope, beautiful, talented, creative, and artistic woman you are, not only has my stamp on it, it's a stamp all sorts of people acknowledge to this day.
I don't continue to teach, lecture, give khutbahs and sermons, advise, train, or coach because my community has amnesia or doesn't know who I am. You have let resentment make you blind and dishonest, Punkin. But gone are the days where centuries of naivete are still a good excuse. We cannot wish away molesters or be "lovers" without confronting our traumas, or racist oppression, or our tokenism. Our usual methods are failures, so it's time for new paradigms, Punkin.
And so...I am going to triumph here, no matter the trials Allah has written for me, and I'm going to continue narrating my own story with unashamed honesty. It is a story that is a microcosm of our people. The pattern I am laying and following, I believe is a path of healing. I've walked it with Shwayyah. I've walked some of the way with your mother. I even offered to walk this path of healing with the Harpy (#epicoffails). You can choose to walk with me, or not, you and I don't settle here. We'll settle on The Last Day before either of us can enter the actual Jannah.
Lastly, if you're really about activism then don't be about caping for vampires, confront them with Light. Confront Ronnie (you don't need to remember being molested, he does and your sister did, that's enough). Confront the Harpy, there's enough testimony and witnesses, court cases, articles, etc. Or confront the person in the mirror.
I close this letter to you, that it's not just for you. With all it's admonishments, literary references, and most of all, the two things I have always held in reserve for you, and my people(s) unconditionally:
Yours with Hope and Love,
Me.
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