African Americans. The true Western cowboys. Always the quickest to the trigger. Whether it is killing each other, insulting each other, or feeling sorry for themselves. I’m no true West African. I cannot so much as speak any dialect. I’m an immigrant who belongs everywhere. Regardless, I come from powerful stock.

My kin toil, have toiled and will toil. They are resilient, humble and patient farmers. Slavery and colonization have come and gone. Yet they have remained the same. I find great solace in this; permanence. I’d rather carry this with me; use this as my tether. I have no room, no time, for a massive chip on my shoulder.

This is a diary of sorts. A recounting. I have seen the anger in my own eyes at the trivialization of those that came before. How proud must they be? I hope, I pray, I wish for there to be no trace of them left. Not in the heavens, and not in the soil. Let their remains have fully rotted and been consumed by the earth. Let their souls be vanquished into blissful oblivion. Let them rest. Let me and others like me, be sole witnesses to how their lives and plights are all melted down and forged into a weapon of assured destruction. Their triumphs, their accomplishments, their steps forward… None of which can be celebrated or remembered for a weapon like this to cool into a seemingly unbreakable metal.

It is always one generation at a time, is it not? It is wealth, success and prosperity we speak of, is it not? That is why I assume they marched. They are the people most lost to delusion. Completely incapable of seeing how they destroy themselves even after taking bullets as hurried messengers... From themselves... Palpable irony is ever-present here. Death is supposed to help shape the ultimate perspective. It is supposed to be a great voice that can help bring finality to all shadows clouding minds -- fallen instead, as precious ore for the great weapon. To be wielded against whom?

I cannot understand this manner of thinking. It is most certainly not exclusive to Afro-Americans, but most certainly exclusive in its rampancy. Do you know? I was once told by black lady who informed me that her family was in the top 10% of wealth in California. She could go "anywhere", and study "anything," she said. She was grateful for this. Yet, this same woman then claimed in casual conversation, that by effect of being a black man, I was still more privileged than her; without knowing as much about me as she so willingly told me about herself. This is going to be someone’s wife. She might even mother a son. That I worked in fast-food chains, or lived in a small 2 bedroom apartment with 5, clearly matters not to such a person. I do not feel sorry for myself. I did not speak a word of this, nor any other to her, ever again.

My father spent well over a decade studying in the U.S., as well as in Europe, before returning home. He was raised by farmers you see. Lived in a hut made of washed clay, and dried herbs for a roof. He started working in farms when he was but a toddler. First as a collector and carrier, then a full-fledged worker; in 1950’s, West Africa. From a farmer, to an entrepreneur, to a scholar, in the span of 65 years of work. I must emphasize “65 years” of hard patient work, good decisions, accountability, persistence, discipline, and sacrifice; none spent wallowing in self-pity. It literally took his entire life but I am sitting comfortably in my apartment now. A mere observer and preserver of the telling of his life, as yet another worthless drone.

After recent events and a Dave Chappelle special, I called and vented the feeling of isolation and despair at the current state of affairs. “In my experience, African Americans are lazy. They do not want to work. They want to consume, not produce. Watch the people you surround yourself with. Stay out of trouble. We’ll keep in touch.” It’s as if he had better things to do. You think this harsh, do you not? You should.

I mention the special because I recommend you watch it if you have the pallet for it. A frightening watch it was for me, but telling. That even he, a powerful influencer I somehow naively believed to see beyond the veil, could not so much as acknowledge his own shadow. This is completely and utterly my mistake.

In this special, you will see what is hailed today, and understand why the plight of families, marriage and what not, seems trivial when compared to what we are now facing. Perhaps what we've all been facing for a time now. All of us. Race and origin be damned. Every single one of us have, and will cross paths with the great weapon. You must face it all by yourself and please do keep to yourself. I wish you all the best.

This world will not break me. It cannot