The Journal of an Angry Black Man

(This is a writing assignment my case manager gave me after one of our regular meetings. I know he's trying to challenge me on my perception of myself. I was hesitant to even participate but once I gave it a shot I saw how much I got out of it than I believed I would initially.) Well, the easiest answer to that is because Bennie and Patricia met, fell in love and had me. But, I’m sure there are plenty more reasons that answer the question why I’m STILL ALIVE.  Those, I believe, are more important… I’m alive because my birth mother and father loved me enough to allow someone else to give me the life they felt they wouldn’t be able to. I’m alive because I have an aunt and uncle who loved me enough to feed me and keep me healthy and happy. I’m alive because at some point I learned to love myself enough to do what I knew would keep me healthy and happy. I’m alive because at some point I began to love the things that life brings, the friends, experiences, road trips,

How will I be remembered?  I often think about that in my days at home when my mind is allowed to wonder away from the bullshit I've found myself in lately. I went along with a guy who was taking stock photos in Hollywood Cemetery here in Richmond the other day.  As we walked and smoked, he took pictures and I would admire some of the really ornate headstones, obelisks, and memorials that were located in the historic cemetery.  It was a good break from always being in the house and brainwashing myself with CNN.  I was especially excited when I got to see some of the confederate graves and the grave site of Jefferson Davis, the former and only President of the Confederate States of America.  In my mind, "JD" (as his highway here in Richmond is affectionately called by locals) was a hero. He took a stand for something. Even though many people outside of the South did not quite appreciate or understand his position, he stood firm on what he felt was right. I'm wr

I've been in trouble all my life over the way I fly off and curse people our, call them out of their names, and even for making threats.  I never have any intention of hurting anyone or carrying out something I've said out of anger and pain, but I am guilty of having allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement at times. This past winter I had a job where I was the office assistant to a woman who was the executive director of a non-profit that had a mission towards improving adult literacy.  I was excited to get out of working overnight at the gas station out in the country, and I was happy to get my foot in the door at an organization that I could feel I played a professional role in supporting. Well, all of that came crashing down around me in less than 3 months.  From my viewpoint, my bosslady was very unorganized.  She, like many other Black professionals, play a role that they can't truly uphold in their personal lives.  She was a last-minute type of person in ge