What a week, and it is only the first one of 2021.

I type from a place of unbalance. It isn’t just the fuckery happening with ‘democracy’, it is also a personal unbalance. There is little that I can do to reset. I have to ride this out, and I have to remain steadfast. He’s set a good example for me there, and following his example has not impaired me yet.

The week that was, well it still leaves to question what ‘life’ will look like for someone like me. A Queer, Black woman in the United States of America. It’s not yet over, and it might still get uglier.

I’ve always been a ‘fan’ of American Democracy. It’s always fascinated me and American History has always been a nerdy distraction for me. I am after all, an American. I was born in the city where democracy was born. I was born at a time when Black women like me were about as free as we’ve ever been in the history of this nation. I could educate myself, vote, abort and work.

I was raised by women without that luxury who told me it was safe to buy into the American Dream. I did for quite some time. I can recall being a rebellious teen who took the words coming from my grandmother’s radio and Rush Limbaugh to heart and thinking I could live that life the charlatan was selling. Then I realized I also like to eat pussy and I had decisions to make.

It wasn’t until I ended up at DC33 that the shift began to take hold. It was after December 13, 2000 it was solidified.

I became a full fledged liberal when the world I needed to exist for my child wasn’t on the horizon.

It was then I dig back into the history I once read without depth. It was after Clyde that I dug into what the dream was, what it really meant, and why it was not a dream I wanted.

This nation was built on blood and greed. This nation remains on blood and greed. While I am absolutely going to be one of those who makes money, it is not likely I will be Jeff Bezos. I am not built that way today, if I was ever. Will I be affluent? Yes, I have a man to retire. A billionaire? Highly unlikely.

The defeat of HRC hit me very hard. Super hard, so hard that I wasn’t sure I would survive it. I did what I’ve often done though, survived.

I am in fact doing more than surviving at the moment, and I think perhaps that is where my unbalance originates. Here I am at 48 finally living, finally authentic, and that is in jeopardy because white supremacy feels threatened.

The solemn acknowledgment in this is that, I am not unlike any other Black woman in the United States. Here I am just trying to live my best life and here yt folx come fucking shit up.

The events of January 6, 2021 managed to surprise me, a little. I wasn’t surprised that it happened, dead Ray Charles saw that shit coming. I was a little surprised at some of the individual things I saw in the media. As the days go by some of this shit looks nefarious as one of the kindest words I can locate. The audacity of whiteness, nope no surprise at all. Watching an organized effort to take out the Vice President, the Speaker of the House, the President Pro Tem of the Senate…basically the whole lone of succession minus the Secretary of State on live Tv is a lot.

The Daddy person promised a seismic shift in 2021, He’s started the plates moving, and the first aftershocks are quiet. The big one in earthquake speak hasn’t happened. I feel a way about that. Really.

Friday I asked if everything was being put on the table. He said yes. Except everything didn’t go on the table and now I am back in a holding pattern waiting for the news to be delivered so that we can move forward from there. It impacts every aspect of my move and I am waiting. Again. I am disappointed, angry, sad, and a little numb.

I have to fall back, it was requested and that request was granted.

I can’t say that I want this, but I won’t pretend this is not difficult.

But trust the process. Trust the foundation.

Patience is a virtue.

I am still unbalanced.

That needs to change.