The Many Jobs of Kat

What jobs have you had?

I’ve worked as a teacher’s assistant, cashier, retail, social work, customer service, but mainly in the administrative/clerical field. Because it’s easy and I get to sit on my ass for 8 hours per day.

How Organized Religion Has Fucked Up Black People For All Eternity

According to Facebook, I’m a Rising Creator and Writer which is so amusing to me because all I do is put down the random thoughts that be swirling around in my discombobulated brain. As a Rising Creator, when I’m on Facebook, I read the comment section of various posts that are popular, and I’ve come to a sad conclusion: Black people have a fucked up mentality when it comes to women and female sexuality which is due to the religious indoctrination we received when we were brought to this country to be chattel.

A Great Black Woman Writer

Just a disclaimer: I noticed this long before the internet existed but the Black social media has really exposed how backwards and dumb people when it comes to women. Black women are expected to be the work horses for the entire community. We are literally expected to work ourselves to death for a community that wouldn’t piss on us if we were on fire. Zora Neale Hurston said it best: “De nigger woman is de mule uh de world so fur as Ah can see.”

Now what does this have to do with religion? Black folks have been taught that women are lesser beings than men and it is their duty to serve men and the entire community. This idea that women are lesser than men comes from Christianity. That women aren’t worthy of anything but being a walking womb that cooks and cleans. Even Black folks who claim that they aren’t religious anymore hang to that belief.

Let’s talk about female sexuality and Black folks. If a Black woman revels in her sexuality, she ain’t nothing but a two bit whore who is not worth two dead flies. She’s not worthy of marriage but the men of the community don’t have a problem with pumping some babies in her. The irony of having sex with a woman who is considered a hoe but not using a condom. Just past stupid.

Black women keep this mentality alive due to competition for crumbs of affection from Black men. If they dog out the whores and put themselves in alliance with the men of the community who call these women whores, perhaps they will get some attention. But all that they get is a wet ass, and some babies too.

For some reason, Black folks believe that hanging on to these tenets of organized religion is going to help us collectively. It’s been an online movement that is encouraging Black folks to go back to the 1950s when Black women were happy housewives and Black men took care of their families. Which is a major distortion of history because Black women have always worked in this country and was never afforded the opportunity to be a Stepford Wife. Their incomes were needed to take care of their families, along with the husbands incomes. I suspect that the men just want to go back to a time when they could beat women’s asses with impunity and without repercussions. The women are just tired of working and want a man to take of them financially, not understanding that being at a man’s mercy financially is dangerous as fuck. And once again, religion plays a part in this because yes the Bible states that men are supposed to provide, but it was written thousands of years ago and we are living in a capitalist society. A family needs 90 incomes in order to live comfortably in this country.

This chokehold that religion has on the Black community is making it impossible for us to evolve and if anything, the community is going back to the Stone Age era when if a man wanted a woman, all he had to do is club her upside her head and drag her off to the cave. And I suspect some sisters would be totally fine with this as long as they had a husband.

A Dedication to My Great-Grandfather Hark Allen

A Civil War Veteran

Happy Memorial Day to my Great-Grandfather Hark Allen. Originally named Hark Barrow, he was a runaway slave from the Barrow Plantation who joined the Northern side of Civil War, gained his freedom, and changed his last name to Allen. Lived through the pandemic of 1918 and almost saw the Great Depression. Lived until he was 83 years old. If he had been killed during the war, I wouldn’t be here right now to tell his story. So thank you GG daddy for having the courage to escape and make a life for yourself. I’m proud to have your blood flowing through my veins.

Having It All

What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?

Having it all means to me is having peace of mind and enough money to live comfortably. We live in a culture that encourages people to work themselves to the bone but that comes with stress and I’m not living a stressful life for material gain. I just want to wear pretty dresses, smell good, and eat fried catfish once a week. For me it’s been attainable but I don’t know for others. Being diagnosed with a disability almost three years ago has me looking at life through a different lens so my perspective is going to be different.

PTSD, Black Youth, Drugs, & The Lack of Empathy

My baby Girl

My daughter is 22 years old and she’s been through a lot mentally over the past eight years. She’s lost so many friends to murder on the streets of Chicago that it’s heartbreaking. Some of her classmates from grade and high school. Friends from the various neighborhoods we have lived in. So many lost children because that’s the way I look at the younger generation because they could be my children.

Black children and young adults are dealing with trauma. The trauma of seeing their friends being killed at the hands of each other due to gang violence. The trauma of having friends struggling with drug addiction and who have committed suicide because they got tired of existing. The saddest thing about this trauma is that the no one cares. Not society and and the not the community that is supposed to love, protect, and nurture them. Not even their parents in some cases. Due to the trauma, they have PSTD and the ramifications of this is going to affect the Black community for generations.

The conclusion that I’ve come to is that Black folks don’t give a fuck about Black children. If they did, they would raise them properly, make sure that their homes were a haven, not just a place to lay their heads down at night.

They would understand that parenting doesn’t stop once the children become teenagers. So many of the crimes taking place in Chicago have been committed by teenagers under the age of 16 and the crimes were committed at night past curfew. Why aren’t these trifling ass parents concerned about where their children are? I’ve seen activists whining about how the teenagers need something to do and that’s why they’re out at night. Lies. It’s something for teenagers to do during the day but their parents aren’t interested in signing up for the various programs. It’s no reason at all for teenagers to be roaming around past 9pm. What youth centers exist that is open all night long for teenagers? No where in the world because they are supposed to be home.

From Back in the Day

I love Blackness but I’m so tired of Black folks making excuses for stupid shit. Justifying bad behavior in the name of Blackness. Ignoring the new generation of young drug addicts who are strung out on pills and Lean. Worried about petty shit while our children are suffering and self medicating themselves to early graves and to the prison system.

That’s my baby in the picture above and she’s been loved and nurtured her whole life and how could I not? I carried her underneath my heart for nine months. She’s my legacy to the world along with her older sister and brother. The streets weren’t going to take my babies away as long as I had breath in my body and I wish more Black parents thought like me.

The Fat Who Bit People

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was fat. She was real plush and soft. As a result of her plushness, people always wanted to rub on her fat. Eventually, she got tired of people rubbing on her and the fat on her body developed teeth. Sharp, pointy teeth. Vicious teeth and anyone who touched her got bit. So everyone left her alone. The moral to the story is stop touching people who don’t want to be bothered.

Trauma & Fear – Inevitably Intertwined

I’m coming to realization that I’ve been traumatized since being diagnosed with epilepsy. That I live with fear on daily basis. Let me explain why.

Having grand mal seizures is one of the worst things that can happen to a human. You never know when it’s going to happen and when you come out of one, your brain is so discombobulated, you can barely function.

The last grand mal seizure I had was back in January. When I came out of it, I didn’t even know what year it was. The ambulance attendants weren’t going to take me to the hospital at first but when I told them that it was 2009, I was trussed up like a hog and hauled off to the emergency room.

My son told me that I was sitting on my bed, just shaking and screeching with my eyes rolling around in my head. He just held me until the ambulance came. Just imagine his trauma. Seeing your mother like that.

I have had two seizures outside of my home. Once while waiting on an Uber outside of the local Walmart and one at work. When I had the seizure outside of Walmart and came to, I was in the back of the ambulance and my first instinct was to start fighting the attendants. I mean I woke up alone with two burly white men surrounding me. Life ain’t no fairytale.

The one at work happened while sitting at my desk. My co worker told me that I was just sitting there when I hit the floor convulsing and foaming at the mouth. It was so hard returning back to work knowing that the people I work with saw me at my absolute worst.

So I’ve come to realize that I have been incredibly traumatized by these events. I live in fear that I’m going to have a seizure while riding public transportation. While walking down the street surrounded by complete strangers. When I had that seizure almost three years ago outside of Walmart, it was a different time in history but now it’s different. People have gone completely feral and have thrown off all semblance of civility. If I had a seizure outside of my home or work, it is likely I would end up on social media buck ass naked with my personal possessions stolen and molested. These are the times we are living in.

Two years ago, my son moved to LA because he accepted an offer from TSA. Found an apartment and was doing fantastic but abruptly, he resigned. Told me that he was tired of dealing with the public but I believe that he was worried about my health and wanted to be near me. I feel guilty, so guilt ridden.

My baby girl hovers around me like an old mother hen and I’m feel guilty for that. She’s a beautiful young woman who is about to graduate from college next month but she spends her weekends underneath me.

I’m traumatized and I’ve traumatized my children. I live in fear and so they. I do my best not to beat myself up about being an epileptic but it’s hard, so damn hard. My biggest fear is dying from a seizure, and not seeing the people I love again. Leaving my children, grandchildren, friends, and other family. I’m not a spring chicken but I still have a lot of living to do. Places to visit, people to love. I want to live damn it that’s all.