The "N" Word

I'm sharing an entry from my diary. Usually I keep my feelings to me, my notepad, and my mama. I don't share my peresonal business, but here it is. 

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Yesterday Evan, Chris's ex,s aid "Nigga" right in from of my face and I did nothing. 

It’s kinda ironic because I’d just finished declaring my disdain for Brandon Banderas, a mutual AMDA friend. Unbeknownst to Chris, I stopped liking Brandon for almost the same reason.
We were all at Debra's. High. And Brandon said the ‘N-word’. And everyone got really quiet.
I don’t even want to finish this story. I’m so tired of everything having to be my issue. But I was offended and I didn’t say anything. So I didn’t stick up for myself.

I’m so tired of being offended.
This word has so much power. So much weight. So much bad, ugly, horrific, gut wrenching, sad, sad, sad, sad history.

I don’t want to!
I’m tired of carrying the weight of Nigger.

I’m tired of carrying the weight of nigga.

Why would anyone, someone want to call another human being ‘that’ knowing all the history and pain behind it?
Have we forgotten?
Is our generation so blessedly progressive that we no longer feel the pain on it? Can we no longer hear the cries? Remember the plight?

So disassociated we can’t even fathom for one moment
Are we numb?
Forward thinking?
Beyond it?
So filled with love for one another?

Or blasphemous?
Ignorant?
Ungrateful?
Stupid?
Unfeeling?

I feel the distaste and despite of myself I still say it to be cool, current, shocking, appealing.

Emotional lashes.
I refuse to bear
Chipping away at my soul
For the sake of a Nicki Minaj verse
Fear of the loss of a friend
My soul is worth more.

The guilt alone is unbearable.
I have to look at myself in the mirror.

I am a bleeding, feeling, crying spirit

And I feel it.
I’m aware. I remember.

And I carry the weight of nigger.

But maybe I’m just close minded.

A century behind my brilliant minded, tech savy, hashtag, Instagram generation.