How the desire to belong can kill you Double Consciousness part II

While watching a documentary involving inner-city youth and musicians I spotted something very interesting. I came across a young teen sporting a shirt with a particular phrase. Trapped in crime. It was a shirt that detailed the harsh realities of most black youth growing up in the hood. I didn’t choose “the life” “the life” chose me.

A statement that may anger some. But when and if you do your research it is all too true. It’s like if you can’t beat em in this instance beat meaning avoid then you mind as well join em in order to prolong your life in a sense.

Perhaps if we seek “protection” and join forces then we will be “spared” or “safe” But in fact by joining one gang or sect you’re now seen as the enemy in the eyes of the others. So is joining this gang even beneficial at all? Does it really “protect” you?

Fear is what fuels the rise in gang recruitment. Sometimes I wonder if the black race is cursed. 

Whenever I watched productions on gang violence there was always a common theme. That is when those affected by the crimes were asked what needed to be done to prevent and or solve the issues. It was always stressed that youth had nothing to do. Their boredom played a huge role in their involvement with gangs, crime etc. The residents would always cry out for programs to be introduced into their community. In an attempt to detour the youth from their involvement with gangs.


Luckily for the Canarsie community we had a program designed exactly for that purpose.
Bildersee Beacon aimed to act as a positive space for youth. There was a place that served as a safe haven for me and many other youth.

It was there that I found my passions and was able to perfect my craft.
While other youth were mothered and fathered by the streets I had a friend, sibling, and parent in Beacon. In Beacon I found a mentor. I began attending Beacon from ages 8- around 13ish. I must say that my participation in their program has contributed greatly in shaping who I am today.


We are so very vulnerable and impressionable during these stages that we must be surrounded by positivity in order to help aid our thinking and shape us. It's during these ages that we desperately search for a sense of belonging. Our values and morals aren't really solidified yet. Our desires are basic yet complex.

The main one:

#1: A sense of belonging. Someone to relate to. (Bonding, relationships)
This is usually where youth belonging to gangs and cliques say within the gang they found the parents they never had & were seeking. "A substitute family"

I've seen so many youth succumb to violence in Canarsie, my former hometown. Once a family oriented place. So in 2016 March when I randomly stumbled upon a news article about a college basketball star's death I was enraged. Automatically, I made the assumption that he had been murdered in Canarsie as a result of gang violence. Stemming from either being an innocent bystander or a direct attack due to jealousy over his success.

They've got another one I thought. I cursed to the heavens and screamed and ranted about how much I hated these barbaric animals. I yelled that after advancing out of such a town he should've never returned to such a place. I called his imaginary gang involved murders that I had created in my mind so many names. Screamed that they were ruining the race. I harbored so much hatred. My heart ached, I wanted revenge.

That was my immediate reaction. However, upon reading the entire article I learned that the details I had imagined couldn't have been farther from the truth or were they?

My friend "B" was one of the highlights of my childhood. I was three years older than him but still he behaved like a little man. I can still remember how he would mingle with all the older girls making them laugh and giggle. Even as a child he was so charismatic, so funny, debonair, charming.

He was always the life of the party. Dancehall was a big part of our community being highly populated by Caribbeans. Him and I would spend hours practicing our moves. Elephant Man, Sean Paul and many others of the time. They were our idols. Although, we were children we spent hours perfecting our craft. What may seem complex to outsiders came natural for us. As offsping of Caribbean parents it was embedded in our blood. Taught to move our waists from young.

I can still remember the way we would perform everywhere, bringing in a large crowd. It was funny cause it wasn't even our intent to perform. We would just hear music and it would awaken a fire within us. It felt like a force possessing us for a moment. Where spirits of some sort were communicating a message through our bodies. Like in that moment we shared our bodies with the ancestors.

I can still hear Elephant's voice saying things like "Scoobay & Keeping it jiggy" Prompting us to "Get jiggy", "Summer bounce" the works. It was around 2004. Our little bodies didn't need choreography it was so second nature to us. Dancehall raised us. I along with him and M were so dedicated to our dancing. It was through this dancing that our paths crossed. I can remember a particular incident in a classroom. One I will never forget. It was dark and we had the older teenagers with us. We were being bad. The older girls aged 13 and up considered us 8-11 year olds their children.

My "mother" knew I could dance and next thing you knew we were having a party. There was a board and me and "B" went behind the board as our "parents" cheered us on saying "wine, wine" "dub" him. lol. Dub being a term for a girl dancing on a guys body.

He was my first "dub" lol. From then on we would dance with each other not so much in that manner but in these little battles. I being a talented female dancer would dance in unison with him and M. It was cool to see the unity yet contrast in our dancing styles.

B was so social, so popular. I share so many memories with him. Music fueled us, uplifted us, made us live. Bildersee hosted a number of events every kid would flock to including the annual Haunted house walkthrough. They'd go all out with fog, ghosts and all. We would all dance in unison again. "Givin dem a run" "Parachute" "Ova ya head" and our favorite "Pon di river, pon di bank." lol
Those were really the days. Elephant man thank you for making my childhood gold. XD :)


Over the years B and I parted ways as I began Jr.high and high school. But that never stopped me from recalling the memories he and I shared. I thought about him so much but was so busy that I never bothered to get his contact information and connect with him. Which is why when he died I felt so guilty. All I could think of was that I could've prevented his death had we'd been friends cause he would've been with me and avoided encountering those who murdered him.

B apparently was doing extremely well for himself. He was a college athlete featured on television, well respected by his university, peers, community etc. He was so famous, gotten so much publicity yet I still never heard of any of this. It wasn't until his death. I hated myself for losing touch.
I still don't forgive myself.

Once I had read the name I instantly remembered and felt like I was dead inside. I cried and cried. It felt like my soul had been ripped out. Like my childhood died right along with him. So much potential wasted. He was about to graduate with his baccalaureate and was in his last semester. I couldn't understand why.

Things only got worse as I learned the details. B had been trying to join a fraternity and wound up killed by the hazing ceremony and ritual. I was shocked and confused. I only thought that caucasians took fraternities and sororities so serious. I was wrong. Apparently he was made to drink a concoction along with large amounts of alcohol and who knows what else which resulted in his death.

Those involved refuse to come forward, I read something about him vomiting and being unconscious. I thought to myself who could see him seizing, convulsing and vomiting and run away after it was them who pressured him into this. His blood is on their hands. He was fighting to belong to them and died in the process.

I was saying to myself that maybe his death was inevitable. Perhaps, he may have died by being gunned down in Canarsie as an innocent by stander while visiting from college. Or had he not gone to college he too like his brother M would have been recruited into a gang and murdered in retaliation. Was his fate to die?

I was thinking his college education and efforts went in vain because essentially he was a gang member. This group were the thugs of college. Are they no better? No they're not. Maybe he didn't actually escape the violence of Canarsie because it followed him to college just in a different sense. He still was victimized. He still didn't feel content with himself enough that he searched for a sense of belonging. Maybe he felt alone in college and was looking for guidance. Maybe he's no different from the misguided gang members from our area. It just sucks cause he shared a similar fate with others gunned down in Canarsie except his accomplishments died with him.

On that note I'm signing off.
B I will never forget you.
Signing off AGC

Where my Canarsie gone? Double Consciousness & Messed up Standards in the Black Community

This is for my Fallen Soldiers by Demarco plays in the back of my mind this morning. Initially I was going to just focus this article on one aspect. However, the spirits of my fallen childhood friends urged me to write this. That song was the one on repeat at my God father's wake at the well known Guarino funeral home. A song that made a hint at the fate of my god father. For he was a soldier. A soldier in a war zone not from the army or navy But perhaps instead a war he had been fighting within himself. It's that double consciousness. The destruction of the black community stems from this warring of two souls.

Wanting to remain loyal to what you believe defines blackness. Which usually unfortunately is stereotypical, negativity i.e. violence, gang affiliation, sass, "toughness" etc.
But, none of the above things are what it means to be Black. Blackness does not need to be associated with negativity but sadly it is. Whereas positive, more desirable traits are commonly solely associated with "Whiteness".
For example being college educated or pursuing a college education (mainly for black males),

Thus, pursuing anything outside of the stereotype is seen as betrayal to your community. So Blacks fall victim to self-sabotage due to the fear of losing ties with ones "roots" and "community".

At my God father's funeral, his little cousin gave a chilling speech speaking out against the problems of gang loyalty in the black community. She said she would die before she allowed his young son (then aged 7) to succumb to the same fate as his father.

Canarsie, my hometown. Once a warm, welcoming family friendly atmosphere. Full of Caribbean migrants who relocated to create a better life for their American born children or children freshly brought young from their home countries. Haiti, Jamaica, Guyana, Trinidad just to name a few. A piece of the American dream is all they wanted. All they strived for. But, that dream has quickly turned into a nightmare as Canarsie goes downhill fast. As if all their hard work has gone in vain.

Regions varying from Jamaica, Haiti, Guyana etc. I just came back from my old area and boy was it painful to see how much it has changed. Drastically for the worse. A lot of new stores and businesses have popped up seemingly over night. Perhaps in an attempt to "get with the times" and "gentrify" the area like so many other vicinities are succumbing to. One that stood out to me was a new TD Bank that appeared around 2014. It's green glow a reminder of the upcoming transitions.

The Canarsie I once knew and loved has seemed to vanish from existence. Canarsie's wholesomeness, along with its family friendly, welcoming, tranquil atmosphere is a thing of the past. It's now been renamed mainly by the recent young, stereotypical, migrants only in most recent years having relocated there from crime ridden neighboring vicinities i.e. East New York, Brownsville and East Flatbush. It's new alias is now "Flossy" or "The Floss" Made to reflect the privileged, entitlement that most of Canarsie's Original youth have access to.

Floss being a slang term for flaunting your wealth or riches/ financial status. Indication of the privileged background and upbringing Canarsie native youth have derived from. Most families are middle or upper middle class there. Working class families, medical professionals, business owners i.e. nurses, etc. Overall, hard-working people. Perhaps, this is what fueled the care-free, non-chalant, reckless, live in the now, attitudes of the youth residing there.

The fact that they've never had to learn the concept of self-sufficiency because they "got it made" is working against not just them but the community.
It's almost as if they're oblivious to the fact that there is life beyond their teenage and young adult years and that they're not invincible.

There needs to be some type of intervention and there needs to be one fast. Cause at this rate Canarsie' youth are on the verge of becoming extinct.
Once upon a time not too long ago, Canarsie was a desirable place to reside. Steps up from the busy, dirty, city life commonly associated with New York. This place was different. Home to the Canarsie Native American tribe is where its name stems from.

During my time there I never really had much exposure to New york's high crime rate. It's almost as if there was a safe haven away from the usual New York or more specifically Brooklyn antics.

Now fast forward just a few years I'm now age twenty-three. All of my peers also growing up in the early ninety's are now in their early twenties as well.

Canarsie, streets once paved with happiness, containing mainly local mom and pop shops are no more. Upon visiting last month it looked entirely different. Not much difference from the rest of Brooklyn. Having fallen victim to dreaded gentrification. No surprise there. If one were to take a look at other neighborhoods transition like the case with Bedford Stuyvesant etc.

Canarsie is NOT and WAS NOT known originally for gang affiliation, gun violence etc. That type of thing was unheard of.

But, in recent years it seems as if the new generation have something to prove. They were tired of being underminded and underestimated by "tougher" towns. And thus they decided to reshape the image, perception and reputation of Canarsie. To them being considered dangerous and tough fulfills their ultimate goals of being considered "down" or with the in-crowd". The in crowd being a bunch of stereotypical, undesirables.

There's been a major spike in the amount of shooting and other deaths in our community. Once associated with serenity, tranquility and peace now ruled by fear, quest for popularity and ignorance.

And thus, the dreaded double consciousness. Something all Blacks face or have faced at one point in time or another.

Modern Day Tragedy: Am I tragic?

It was 2013 when I sat in Mr. Arters Greek Mythology course. He introduced the topic of tragedy and the origins of the word tragic and how it pertained to Greek society. He summed it up as being a circumstance of your birth. Inevitable because you were destined to live that life. Tragedy was inescapable. Routine,

sometimes wonder if my misfortune was unavoidable. Am I hexed,cursed. Is this a family, generational curse. Yes, i believe so absolutely. And here's why.
It's just this pattern, this track that I've been on throughout my life. It's like the abusers I've met them before in a sense. These demonic entities latch onto my life force and drain it. Looking at each of them it's like looking at all the rest.

 This is not just limited to relationships either. Men,women, friends, spouses. They all shared the same agenda,to see me fail,to bring me down. Sabotage, revenge.  My circumstance of my birth was that I unfortunately was born into a premade situation, i was already endangered, a statistic, a stereotype. You could say. Being brought into a situation i had no control over. perhaps my birth made it even worse. Since once a baby is introduced into a relationship that makes both more likely to feel inclined to stay.  Maybe i am the curse of the curse. Or the blessing.

 Maybe if it weren't for my birth my mother wouldn't have tried to leave my father with such urgency and determination. Maybe he would've killed her then. Either way i was in a torn situation. Born as a product of my home life, my environment? Yet there were also biological factors that came into play with my decline in my mental state. They say under the right circumstances that an illness can awaken. It's already in your genes/dna but not until under negative predicaments does it feed the illness bringing it out to life.

I must be cursed then cause my upbringing was a perfect breeding ground for this disease to thrive. Born to a mentally psychotic father, who's father was unstable mentally who's wife my grandmother was passive like myself yet was born to a very mentally ill mother then a father who was an alcoholic with suicidal tendencies who eventually drowned himself. Similar story on my mothers side suffered abuse at the hands of her mother which she also was abused by her mother and her father was an alcoholic who drowned himself.

I was conveniently exposed to trauma very early in life. Throughout my time in the womb and infancy through my toddler years. It had ceased by age five but that didn't stop the cycle as i call it from hitting my mom again. She had continued to seek out it seemed similar instability. Although my dad wasn't there i still suffered. Exposed to obscenity. A child is fragile, innocent, pure, naive in a sense because they have no familiarity with adult things. Until you introduce it to them. You, the adult. They're so impressionable during the stages I was exposed to trauma because their brains, ideas, interests, identities, personalities and perceptions are still forming.

Satan's wrath. Torn between good and evil.

5/4/17 dream of being subdued by satanic force.
Couldn't get up what so ever and was fighting against being taken over. I was screaming for my mother so loudly that's all i really could do. I was screaming but also battling paralysis that was setting in due to the demon trying to silence me. I was being muffled. I actually  ended up screaming muffled sounds in real life as i tried to escape Satan's grip.

I became wrapped under many covers and smothered as i tried to escape the dark room i was in. The door slammed. But my mother heard me and was trying to save me, to find me. she knew where i was but didn't know what was going on but mothers instinct knee i was endangered. I kept trying to yell while the force silenced me.

I was determined to escape or have my mother find me. The bed was my prison, being wrapped tightly with covers like that. As soon as i tried to get up, i was pushed down, the door locked slammed shut and it was like i was farther away from the door, i felt heavy and scared, drowsy, it was a fight to live to not be taken over. I said Satan no you will not take me. He laughed and tried to smother me and then a heavy blanket dropped on top of me and began wrapping tightly.

Now as per usual, time for the analysis. Ever since moving out of my my mother's house 6 years ago. More specifically in the recent four years of moving into my own apartments. I've been feeling the wrath of being overwhelmed by these adult responsibilities. I feel regretful for moving out although that was beyond my control.

Which leads me to believe that the part about the door between my mom and I being so far away symbolizes the fact that I feel my mother is also defenseless in the situation because I'm an adult now. She can't really intervene and save me like she used to when I was a small child. How can she come to the defense of a 24 year old woman? It sounds absurd.

Yet I always find myself reverting to my childhood ways and calling out for mommy when i get stressed. But I know there's basically nothing she can do. Hence the dream.

Exercising demons Another dream analysis

4/29/17 5:15 am i awoke from a nightmare in which my little sister was possessed by a demonic spirit. She was rolled around the room floor and i couldn't catch her she kept being take around in circles over and over. Then i commanded the demon out screaming Satan get out Satan get behind us then it somewhat subsided i kept screaming in the name of Jesus Christ leave this child leave this child alone in the name of god. She said serenity is not here i kept commanding Satan to leave i held her and she looked demonic her teeth sharp demented stare and glare, i had to stand up and try to catch her cause the demon had her rolling around so fast i couldn't catch her. I thought to myself her father is possessing her his unclean spirit i must save her. Then she came to, and i held her, consoling her.



Now for my interpretation. In the dream our mother was present except she was stiff, paralyzed, in a trace, hypnotized, still, almost lifeless. Basically defenseless. I was the one to have to ultimately intervene in my sisters "exorcism", The whole time I kept saying I will not let her be a product of her upbringing with her narcissistic father. She will rise above him and be better. He was symbolized by Satan. It's my role in real life to save my sister before it's too late. For my mother remains under his spell for over ten years now or just about.

Snakes, A glimpse at the future

4/21/17
Woke up around 4:30 from my own screams. I was in some sort of market, everyone was purchasing unusual items, it was like a fruit market, i was trying to buy something but some snakes followed me and latched on to my neck, they felt unwanted, disgusting, they wouldn't leave me alone. I could feel their cold bodies, wrapping around my neck, it felt so gross. Their leathery skin, scaly skin, i had snakes ambushing me and onlookers just observed and did nothing. I actually screamed aloud in my room, frightened because they felt nasty on my body and I had been trying to avoid them but couldn't. The manner in which they flicked their bodies was really grotesque, they were coiling, slithering, it was petrifying. They looked like garden hoses. But it was like they were snake like, like I had perceived them as snakes.

Update:
Ironically, later on that day after having forgotten about the dream. I went to a green market. Everything happened so fast cause this hadn't been my intention. I randomly awoke and decided to head out.  After my initial appointment I spotted the market and went in with intent to buy a plant. I was going to get a standard plant with regular leaves or my favorite bromeliad.


 But wound up instead with a large plant with long swordlike leaves that looked alive. Very alive. And that's when it hit me. I was in the same market as my dream. Seeing the same people standing in line, looking at me. Except there were no snakes. Except I couldn't help but make the connection between the resemblance to the snakes in the dream. Their color, their long bodies, the way I was holding them. And my plant. The plant replaced the snakes in my dream as all.

see any resemblance?

This is the Dracena-Indivisa Plant.