Community Trumps Complaints

These days I find myself less impressed with entertainment, current music, fashion trends, and certainly politics. My attention has been held to one amusing perspective though, the anger and constant resistance from the people throughout American communities against Donald Trump. It's amusing because I find myself being unaffected by the man's personal beliefs and decisions. "How can you say that when it's you who preaches that we're all connected?" Surely as a part of humanity, no matter the ranking or position, we are all connected. I'm also an economically poor, young, and a black woman who lives within the southern service industry under capitalism, whose family knows poverty, addictions, and lack of western education quite well. My progression is centered on welfare and the healing of the community. 
I knew Donald Trump would win the Presidential election when he announced that he was running for the position. Not only was it understood at an early age, precisely age 3, that the society of which I lived in was flawed but I was singlehandedly responsible for the trail of tears in pre-kindergarten when I broke the news to my classmates that Santa Claus was a made-up entity and that it was our parents who put the presents under the tree. This intuition inside of me always led me to the truth while living in the midst of lies. I knew Donald Trump would win because the conversation of race and social change wasn't going away and none of the other candidates were capable of bringing harsh but relevant issues in any way that would force people to deal with them head-on. Donald Trump was the perfect candidate to force feeling, passion, and discomfort out of the American people and as a healer of thyself, I overstood that healing involved discomfort and chaos as well.

So instead of panicking, instead of using my sacred energy on voting, instead of meeting a seemingly tough situation with hate, I embarked on a journey of self-reflection. With a series of questions posed to self, "What will my life look like as a poor, black woman in her 20s, in an America where a capitalistic leech is the president?" (No disrespect to Donald's spirit) "What will your community look like if the Hunger Games becomes the reality?" "How can you help yourself and your community through the evolution within these next four years of societal change?"

I sat with kindred and we evaluated for ourselves, what this could've truly meant for life as we knew it. I knew that I didn't have the heart for preparing to kill, I knew that my soul was weary from being held down by this system of greed and hierarchal power. The only vision that remained prevalent was a spiritual return to the origin, to my indigenous living but I first needed to discover what that meant. I hardly knew my paternal grandfather. I didn't even know where my maternal grandmother's father came from. These very important factors of my lineage were of complete oblivion to me and realizing that reminded me that I had no business being overtly consumed with politics when I was now dealing with an identity crisis (self-inflicted but a crisis nonetheless). 

So I embarked, I questioned, and I stripped away distractions to get to know me. Not without first getting over my lustful ways, shaving away the pain, and fleeing to New York City to pivot within the smaller picture of our collective society.  With seeking the truth about me, without putting all of my trust in the expensive test online to find my ancestry, I returned home to New Orleans. I left behind pursuing a degree, I left behind my well-paying corporate opportunity, and I returned home to explore community and creativity since creation is the origin of all that is.

I returned home, stripped and ready to absorb, and to exchange energy with my community. Within this journey, I was able to battle internal and external conflict, share and receive wisdom with kin, recover the meanings of religion and spirit, and reconnect with the purpose of them. I also broke down habits of lust, self-destruction, tainted love, and superficial expectations. 

I've neglected to mention that in the beginning of this journey, I became a vegan but upon returning home to New Orleans, that practice only lasted for a few months. Besides, the consumption of energies required me to balance my own a bit better and on some days, the meat and sugar seemed to fuel me. The beautiful thing about staying somewhat true to my beliefs were that throughout this journey, I wrote poetry. I've published that poetry to share with my communities far and wide, it is called, Blues Is My Happy Place.