I wish hope paid bills

I was raised by my maternal grandmother, who was born in 1929. She was in her 70s while raising me and would tell stories of what it was like to have to walk to school with all eight of her siblings in the cold without appropriate clothing to keep them warm. She would laugh as she tried to teach me jacks, but I quickly lost interest because she and her brothers would play jacks for hours. I’ll never forget a time she told me she was walking home at night in New Orleans, and before she had time to think, she heard a gun go off behind her. When she turned and saw the body that caught the bullet, all she could shout was “Oops!” and ran off in her heels.

My grandmother lived through a lot. She and Martin Luther King Jr. are basically birthday twins in my head, and I can’t imagine how stressful it must have been to experience Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Movement. We once had neighbors who told us how they marched on Washington when they lived in Philadelphia and how afraid they were of the dogs and the fire hoses. Police brutality was rampant. I cannot fathom witnessing that in person.

I also cannot fathom being Rosa Parks, terrified for her life but having the audacity to defy rules enough for the sake of change. For the sake of the future. For the sake of history. FOR MY SAKE. I had a sweet Sunday School teacher who would never allow us to sit too far back in class. She said, “Rosa Parks defended your right; come sit up front.” The kids would grunt and grumble. I am only now realizing that my Sunday school teacher also lived through those times. She witnessed the immediate impact of Rosa Parks and Claudette Colvin’s efforts.

I hate that triumph had to be buried in our DNA because we shouldn’t have to live through such times. I can’t believe people who look like me decided to go so hard for a racist/rapist/felon who doesn’t care about sacrificing the many to save the few.

Martin Luther King Jr. would shudder at the thought.

James Baldwin would weep.

And Harriet Tubman would’ve left us behind.

I hate that hope has to be so prevalent in this life because that’s how shattering reality is. We have to maintain hope because the situation is that terrible. Climate change is happening happening. It was so hot on Halloween. I think it was like 80° here?! Inflation is inflationing to a ridiculous degree. I have a disabled cousin back home who is struggling to learn how to walk again; she cannot work and can only afford a second-floor apartment because the $1200 rent was the lowest available…in AN UNSAFE AREA. Why is my disabled cousin paying $1200 rent for a second-floor apartment in the boonies?!

I would love to be a mom one day. I want to give some great humans a really great life, and now it looks like there won’t be any life here for them to come to. I would feel deeply irresponsible bringing children into this world knowing that climate change is a thing.

I talked to my man, and he said, “Baby, ain’t nothing we can do about who is president. I still have to go to work. We still have to live life. All we can do is worry about us.”

I don’t know how Ruth did it. She went through Jim Crow, The Civil Rights Movement, being a maid for a very popular southern evangelical preacher, having a child fighting a drug dependency…and then there was ME—her final boss. I genuinely don’t know how she did it. But she did. She kept on carrying on and lived life on hard mode. My grandmother had a really awful issue with pain pills later in life. Now I see why. Anything to escape this reality.

My grandma took everything in stride. When we got evicted, when the lights would get cut off, when we couldn’t afford the water bill, when she got fired from her job of 42 years, and ME! She took it all in stride. Girl.

She would laugh at me for being upset that a racist is back in office. She would probably look at me sideways because she didn’t really know of a life where that wasn’t the case. She lived to see Barack Obama become president, but I doubt she voted. Cus why? She would likely say, “I ain’t got no money for him.” Haha! It was a big deal for people like Condoleezza Rice to be in office despite her being Republican. It was a big deal when Bobby Jindal ran for governor because the black people were surprised that he wasn’t white. And I’m over here genuinely offended that the man they want in office is still in office. I have work in the morning.

I know all they had was hope, but at the end of the day, the day has to end …and hope does not pay bills. (Shoutout to Glorilla) We still gotta get up and move. You gotta get up and be loud. The revolution will not be televised. It’s up for individuals to do the needed work, so we have integrity within our organization. Who would you rather be on your team? Someone who sulks about racism and white supremacy or the person who shrugs and keeps pushing? I am not advocating for either. I should be allowed to grieve the children I may never get to have. I cried for them this morning. I have the most perfect names and wonderful ideas on how to nurture them and prioritize a comfortable experience in this life. Sigh. But the mortgage is still due.

This is why they sang in the fields and why the elders braided maps into our hair. They learned to read and communicate with each other to have leverage. They stayed ready so they ain’t have to get ready. Moreover, we as a people, all marginalized groups, should never have to tolerate such fascist ideals, but what else we going do? There are babies dying in Gaza…having to take cover at a moment’s notice. There are women dying in some states because they can’t perfectly pass their miscarriages and are being tried for abortion. They are trying to take away healthcare and they want to nuke the department of education.

Our ancestors took it all in stride in much worse conditions. I have no idea how, but they did. They sang while they marched. Just like we write and rap our stories to trap music. They fought, bled, and died. It’s just our turn to carry that mantle with purpose.