#Spent a solid hour last night trying to figure out the most appropriate card but this one seemed the best even if there's no perfect image

[fyeahygocardart]

Tyler the Great Warrior

[blackstarlinebrewing-blog]

They told us we wouldn’t win...

They told us we wouldn’t win…

Last night and all morning, Ekua and I have been thinking about our experience at #bbsession, Brew Bound’s Startup Brewery Challenge. There’s so much to share and probably many pieces we’ll write about our experience. At the end of the day, we knew we weren’t quite ready to be on the stage. We’re not going to be in bottles or cans anytime soon, so we don’t have marketing that we could display on the stage. We can’t legally sell quite yet, because we don’t have the cash/financing, to get that stuff in place; so we’re in limbo. We can’t get a damn financing or know investors who will take a chance on us. The local CDFI is even like, “nah, we’re gonna have to pass homies.” Ok, that’s not a direct quote, clearly. Then, it’s like there will maybe, kinda be funding for less than what we need and we’re just gonna have to figure it out. No, these aren’t excuses, just the reality.

Going in to the competition, we didn’t have any more beer. Quite frankly, we stopped brewing because we couldn’t afford it. We had to use a store credit we had from past purchases to buy some ingredients. Our flagships, Stokely Stout and Dat Dere, couldn’t make it because we didn’t have the cash to produce. We, as always, transparently let folks know the realities and started to raise funds, but they didn’t come quite quickly enough. Those closest to us were hesitant to support because they felt strongly we would not win. So, we did what we know how to do when we’re up against a wall, undercapitalized, poor, and bootstrapping… we made it work. We turned three batches of beer in 9 days.

As far as we know, there’s never been Black women on the stage. There’s never been queer POC on the stage. We knew, no real start-up had ever won the startup brewery challenge at #bbsession. Most of the winners were fully capitalized, had tap rooms, were in distribution, and at a stage we’ve been trying to grow too. It was a risk.

The folks at the local CDFI talk about how we would make it being undercapitalized… well, as Black folks on this land, we always do. Manning Marable said it was Capitalism that underdeveloped Black America. Right… Undercapitalizing, not funding, holding the purse strings tightly, squashing the economic liberation of a people; is simply called genocide. It is by design that the institutions and systems have “certain rules and limitations” with regards to who has access to capital. Most simply, it is called racism. We know it is patriarchy, white supremacy, and the intersections of all the other interlocking supremacy systems.

Let me be clear: We are so grateful for the funds that were received! We would not have been able to be on the stage had it not been for the widespread community support, #grassrootsreparations, and love offerings. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’re sorry we only got the silver but know, it was our full intention to come home with the Gold.

No, I know that had we received the full $2000 in advance of our trip, we would have won. Really, we needed $2450. But we would have been victorious - Hands down. Is it worth spending half of the prize to get the W?! Absolutely. Bringing that W home meant we could come back and not have to worry about getting evicted, which is now ever pressing in our minds. It legitimizes our work. It lends us credibility, and perhaps, it would have let the folks at the local CDFIs know that we’re actually worthy. If we had the cash, this is how we would have used it:

·         $150 would have been spent brewing our delicious flagship brews: Stokely Stout and Dat Dere Ginger Beer. These would have impressed both the judges and the crowd. There have been indisputably positive, overwhelming, and enthusiastic reviews for these two delicious brews.

·         $50 would have allowed us to make enough of the Ginger Brew botanicals for all of the conference attendees.

·         $350 would have allowed us to buy a jockey box so that we could have kept the brews fresh and served them fresh to participants, attendees, and judges. Admittedly, our head retention was super low because of the beer being in growlers for days. Since we’re on a budget (what an understatement), we had to pour the beer with us when we left NC on Tuesday morning. Not ideal for a competition where folks wouldn’t be tasting until 48 hours later.

·         $175 would have been enough for us to print our marketing materials, business cards, and make sure that we had them in time for the conference.

·         $250 would have been enough for our much needed logo re-design.

·         $750 would have given us the opportunity to have the mock ups of the bottle labels completed as well as much needed new swag so that we could appropriately represent the brand. Shit, it would have been nice to have some branded growlers instead of print-at-home Avery labels, that didn’t stick, on the growlers. There’s just some marketing stuff we need to tighten up.

·         $500 transportation – So, we needed an oil change, gas, and DAMN – NYC transportation is expensive!

·         $150 for food – We’ve been super frugal and have some “government assistance” that we can use as individuals to help offset our costs. So grateful for this social program right now!

·         $75 for spiritual supplies – Absolutely necessary. We would have loved to be able to build an altar at #bbsession. However, cash was tight and we were a rolling altar.

As is typically the case at things like this where either one or both of us present, they said we were the best. We had the best pitch. They were inspired. Some folks were in tears. They called us the “people’s beer.” Many folks were really apologetic and said that if they could have voted, they would have voted for us. Ekua and I (both collectively and individually) stood by the drinks being poured and listened to folks responses when they tasted our beers. They loved it. We loved the older white dudes saying “wow!” “This is good” “Haven’t had anything like this before.” “What is this? I like this a lot” “Where can I buy it.” Our security guard friend really loved hearing people’s responses and continued to give us encouragement throughout the day. After the pitch, he was very apologetic and encouraged us to keep going. He let us know we were the best and there wasn’t even anyone else who could come close.

 It was so odd to keep hearing these comments throughout the rest of the day and evening. Later, after folks got a bit more liquored up J, we found out we were second place. Some of the judges wish they would have known more information. We wish they would have asked.

 There was a moment on the stage where I was waiting for questions. I grew up in Bel Air, Maryland; in Harford County; in the suburbs. I went to all Blue Ribbon schools. I’m a woman. I’m a Black woman. I was waiting to be asked questions so I could respond. No one ever asked questions, so I sat silent. I feel like, ironically enough, Audre Lorde is kicking me in the ass… They were drinking The Lorde. “My silences never protected me…” FUCK! Then, I watched my male colleagues (mostly white) just start speaking and responding. What the actual fuck? Why didn’t I do that? Oh, right, I was raised to be silent, respect authority, and all that female subjugation bull shit. Wasn’t it the former Sales Manager Dan Dalton who told me not to ask for people’s time, just take it. Fuck, these dudes have grown up like that their whole lives and just created space to talk and interact with the judges. Why didn’t I? Fucking patriarchy. Shit.

 So we won silver. Cool. I’m really excited for all of the collaborations, partnerships, and opportunities that are on the horizon.

However, I can’t stop thinking of other Black women who’ve been in competitions like this. They ended up not winning the competition, were clearly the best, and made great careers. Look at Jennifer Hudson. The most successful American Idol contestant. She lost to a (closeted at the time) gay white man and  super sweet cuddly bear Black dude. Jennifer was clearly the best. J-Hud has gone on to establish herself in the industry and continue to push and inspire. Y’all know I love The Rap Game… Look at Nia Kay. She DEFINITELY should have won over Mediocre Mani (at best) and Keep it Together Key (I love you, Lil Key though). Nevertheless, she kept it pushing and is really becoming solid on the young rap scene. Of course, there’s my home girl: Deetranada. Dee had some challenges but needed the win. Nova, due to skill, arrogances, and his support crew, would have been able to make it in the industry. Deetranada inspires so many, grew so much, and really focused. But damn, she’s still on the So So Def tour.

Of course, there’s always the case of HRC – Hillary Rodham Clinton. After having to concede to the young Barack Obama in ’07, she came back kicking and did great things for our country. SHE WON the popular vote, after it has been confirmed that there has been Russian interference, and still she persists. Fucking badass. They told her she wouldn’t win, she won (but didn’t), and even in the wake of all these haters, including in her party, she continues to work tirelessly for a better place for all of us.

You know, this is not new. Black culture being told its second rate. Let’s look at “Living Single”. The white version of this became wildly popular and created stars. It was called, “Friends.” Or let’s look at “Waiting to Exhale.” I’ve never met a Black woman who hasn’t seen this movie. For us, it was a first. It pretty accurately captured our experiences. Of course, “Sex in the City” was the spin off. Our culture wasn’t enough, it was too different, too unique, and too authentic. But not so much so that white folks wouldn’t want to experiment with it and launch their own.

On the intentional sweetness of our beers: We know our folks. Our folks love sweet drinks: kool-aid, sweet tea, and so forth. How many types of juice or soda (Fuck high fructose corn syrup), do you have in your fridge right now, folks of color? The industry depends on us having this sweet tooth. Folks capitalize on us having it and have made our folks addicted through the harmful additives. We know this and want to queer this a bit. AND, we know folks love smoking and drinking. The bitterness of the cigarettes or other rolled sweets necessitates something sweet and refreshing. But again, it’s not their market or culture to understand UNLESS it can make them money. Here’s the secret: it can and it will. We’ll be the beer pioneers on this front.

This mindset of the liberal whites at this conference helps me to understand the mindset of those who voted for Trump against their best interest, right? They were and are so tied in to the system that they literally cannot conceive another way. The misappropriations of their power were astounding. The cowardice was something I could never truly comprehend. It’s like its easier for them to uphold the system that do something as so radical as voting with what’s in the heart. To contextualize: what’s the worst that could have happened if we won? Empowerment of Black, queer folks living on the margins? Affirming the dignity and value of something that’s unique and distinctive that the industry just spent an entire day saying it needs? Supporting the authenticity that was so vividly described in discussed in the opening? Or perhaps, just taking a chance. Folks take chances all the time, especially as related to our freedom and liberation. Think about the folks that voted for Trump just because they couldn’t vote for a woman. “It just didn’t feel right”, they said. I heard these people say just that as I stood with them for hours outside of Lenoir-Rhyne University waiting to see him.

Look y’all, folks talk the talk about being authentic. But when you’re Black, you can’t be too authentic or too real because you’ll scare whites. Right? The back lash to white folks realizing their privilege and their agency to be change-makers, is and has historically been to uphold the status quo. It’s frightening to be the ones to be change makers and quite frankly, most folks don’t have the courage. It was so fucking awkward to be at the after party and overhear folks talking (in their quiet white circles) about how they thought we should have won, how inspiring we were, what could they do, did they know *insert X fact that we shared*. This happens so frequently in situations like this. Where we could have won, did not, or where we could have received funding, or a place to call home, whatever!... and then folks find out more and are deeply saturated in their white guilt and shame. 5 people literally began to tear up and cry on that roof top. How was I supposed to hold space for their sorrow, guilt, and shame while still processing that we lost, juxtaposed with folks saying we were the best, the best they’ve ever seen, etc.? Uh, what? I think about what my father told me… it is these types of folks who allowed lynchings to happen in his home state of South Carolina. It is these folks who may have voted for Trump. And it is these folks that we’ll continue building with because this is our work and the work of #blackstarlinebrewing. This is the work we’re being called too. This is why its imperative for Black Star Line Brewing to exist now, to radicalize these spaces, and to help us (as our new friends at Good City say) “seek the good”.

And yes, it’s pretty awesome that we cranked out these brews, in 9 days, on our homebrew equipment, and got the silver. That’s fucking badass. So yes, they told us we wouldn’t win. But I’m certain they weren’t expecting us to get the silver!

 All of this to say, hell yes – we are so grateful to have been at the event, make connections, have a platform, and let the industry know we’re on the come up. We’re blessed beyond belief and never imagined even competing in something like this. We’re so grateful for the prayer warriors and those who held us in the light. Grateful for Gma’s prayers with Starla cooking in the background and Jo eating too many cookies. We’re grateful Bishop prayed over us and anointed us. We’re grateful my Pop (Larry) prayed fervently. My family held us in prayer and in the light. The community was on their knees, we felt it. Thank you. We’re so appreciative of all of the affirmations and commitments for collaboration, assistance, mentoring, and support. We’re following up with all of y’all! Black Star Line Brewing Co. is the new kid on the block and we’re changing the scene, y’all.

Well, folks kept asking “What’s next” for Black Star Line Brewing Co. Most immediately, we’re gonna figure out how to get this $ so we can pay rent and not be evicted. We’re gonna figure out how to get out here and start pitching more. We HAVE to figure out where this funding is going to come from so we can actually get out here and start brewing. Where are all these white, liberals, and progressives who voted for Barack Obama and Kamala Harris? Where are these kick ass beer folks who are so interested in transforming the industry and want to talk about diversity? Note: diversity is very different than inclusion or even intersectionality. Diversity is the polite white way to say we have a problem with all the homogeneity, and we don’t know how to fix it, but we’re afraid to do anything other than what we’re doing now, because there might be too much of y’all; what’s the minimal thing that we can do to not get ourselves screwed, sued, and look like white supremacists? And we certainly can’t have more of you than us! So help us diversify, good darkie.

What’s next is that we’re gonna continue to grind. After all, we’re a grassroots, family centered brewery launching a social movement rooted in self-determination, social entrepreneurship, collective economics, and our collective healing and liberation. We’re creating pathways out of poverty for folks, including us. We’re strong. We’re resilient. We are #blackstarline.

[inpeacemayuleavetheshore]

I’ve kept it for you.

Bucky Barnes/OFC

Warnings : a few bad words, slightly sexual tension.

Since the very first time Bucky met Lallie, Clint's little sister, he's been dying to say the words he knew were marked onto her skin. But he never did... until that one time.

                                    The fourth time : The Cookie

Lallie’s eyelids fluttered as a ray of sunshine hit her face and the blonde stretched lazily, enjoying the feeling of knowing she had all the time in the world, that she could get up whenever she wanted. Her best friend probably left for the gym already, leaving her alone in the bed she offered to share last night. Offer might be a nice way to say Nat wouldn’t let her leave on her own that late in a city like New-York City. She had spent a lovely evening at the compound laughing and hearing Bucky laughing softly (God be blessed), a rare but oh so beautiful sound. She smiled at the memory, not even worried about the fact that she was slowly but surely falling for him.

The compound was quiet and the common kitchen empty when she reached it. It was Sunday and for her, it called for homemade cookies. She baked them, finding that although not frequently used by the inhabitants, the cupboards were full. She was humming a tune when Bucky entered the room, his shirt draped over his shoulder, naked she noticed with pleasure. He was wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips and damn, he was a sight for sore eyes. Lallie felt her mouth go dry and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his bare torso. His abs were sculpted out of marble and she could feel her fingers twitching, craving to reach out to him and caress his muscles. Her eyes traveled upon his body, taking in the delicious sight of his broad shoulders, his bulging biceps and the veins on his forearms. She knew she was staring and that the appropriate amount of time of looking at someone was way overrun but how was she supposed to be able to stop watching (devouring, let’s be honest) when he looked like that ?

“Hey” she finally managed to say and her voice was embarrassingly a little bit husky.

He only smiled at her to greet her but walk into the room and leaned down the counter in front of her. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and she forced herself to look at his eyes.

“I’m baking cookies” she explained. “Do you wanna help ?”

He nodded silently and she smiled. Although he had no idea how to cook (he could remember watching his mom cook as a kid and later, when he was older baking pancakes with a skinny Steve but his hands seemed to have forgotten how to do it) and he was afraid of bothering her, the way her eyes lightened up when she offered him to help was too cute to say no to. He washed his hands before standing by her sides where she showed him what to do. Her smile never faltered and it made his heart settle in his chest. They worked well together and he noticed her humming resumed and soon the final batch was put into the oven.

“There you go !”

She turned to face Bucky and raised her hand to give him a high-five. He looked dumbfounded for a few seconds before she exclaimed again “Great job partner !” and his face finally cracked into a smile and his palm joined hers, slapping it lightly. He didn’t let his hand fall right away and she relished feeling his skin against hers. Her eyes were trapped in his icy blue orbs and she didn’t want to let this moment end. It felt right. It felt like she finally made it to the finish line. It felt like home.

But because real life wasn’t a fairy tale where everything went perfectly, her phone vibrated loudly on the counter and the moment was instantly broken. She took the damn thing and read the text she had just received. Dread filled her as she read the words over and over again, however, they didn’t seem to make any sense. They were whirling in her head and she looked shocked. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to Bucky who was sporting a worried expression on his handsome face. That brought her back to reality.

“I need to go. Right now. Could you take the cookies out in ten minutes, please ? I’m sorry I won’t be able to taste them with you.”

She took the hand he had gently put on her shoulder, squeezed it as she tried to smile at him. She could see the worry in his eyes and for some reason it made her feel uneasy, wanting to reassure him so, on an impulse, she stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before running off the tower. Lallie finally reached the shop she owned for two years now half an hour later and a man came to her immediately.

“Miss, are you the owner of the shop ?”

She nodded completely stunned by what she was seeing.

“The building’s pipes blew off. I’m very sorry. Do you have an insurance ? …Miss ?”

But all she could do was watch her shop, her accomplishment of many hard-working years flooded before her eyes. Damn, Lallie thought, the day had started so well !

She spent the rest of the day taking the water out,  trying to save whatever could be saved and dealing with insurance papers she didn’t understand in a daze. And when there was nothing more that she could do, she resigned herself to go back to the compound. She didn’t feel like being alone, she needed her friends.

Except she couldn’t seem to find them and was now wandering the halls in a desperate search for Nat or Clint. The events of the day were finally catching up with her and her patience was wearing away. Anger, exhaustion, sadness were threatening to take over her and she was about to lose it when she heard running behind her. She turned expecting her brother or her best friend (she texted them about the shop and the time she’ll be back). But the man in front of her as definitely neither of them. The sight of him immediately took some of the anger away and she smiled weakly at him. Before she could ask him what he was doing here, he raised his metal arm holding out a Tupperware to her and she noticed the single cookie inside of it. She felt herself blushing instantly. He kept it for her. She timidly took the box from his hand and thanked him softly. He smiled back, a rare and precious sight, and his eyes turned brighter.

“You didn’t have to.” She murmured.

He bent his head on the side like he was reminding her she made them and yes he did have to because she deserved at least one. And despite the cuteness of his actions, she couldn’t prevent herself from thinking that he wasn’t doing it because he had feelings for her, but only because he was polite and it was the nice thing to do. Her heart fell into her stomach and the weight of the day was suddenly too heavy to carry. This revelation added to her tiredness and the unfairness of the shop situation was suddenly too much. She broke down, tears running down her face silently. She saw panic take over Bucky’s features and a part of her felt guilty but the next thing she knew she was buried against his firm chest, his arms around her small frame and her head tucked under his chin. She could feel everything of him. His solidity, his manly and highly intoxicating scent, his breath on the top of her head. She gripped the back of his shirt as much as she could with the box still in one of her hands. They stayed like that for who knows how long, even after her cries dried out, he kept holding her. His left hand on her waist and his right playing softly with her hair, drawing lazily comforting patterns. When they finally broke the hug, he kept her close, took the box from her and opened it. She frowned, wondering what he was doing when he took a bite of the cookie.

“Hey !” she exclaimed weakly, her voice still hoarse from crying. “That’s my cookie !”

He smirked looking not sorry in the least and she laughed with sincerity and the sound of it made Bucky smile with tenderness. Lallie tried to catch the cookie from him but he raised his arm smirking again and she pouted like a five-year-old.

“My cookie” she whined.

She was tempted to jump and try to reach it but knew it was a lost cause. And she also knew the cuteness card worked way better.

Either way, Bucky had no intention of actually eating her cookie entirely (one bite wouldn’t hurt and it was so damn good !). He had only meant to make her smile and it went beyond expectations. He lowered his arm and directed the cookie towards Lallie’s mouth, his eyes swiftly switching from her eyes to her lips then back to her eyes as she never stopped looking at him when she opened her mouth and bit into the pastry. She licked her lips unconsciously (well for the most part) and Bucky gulped, the sole gesture turning him on. Despite her slight blush, Lallie didn’t back down and this time when she took another bite she moaned. She didn’t plan to take this that far after the licking thing but seeing as he didn’t show any sign of discomfort at her flirting, she figured why not. The cookie was good, there was no denying that she thought with pride, but not that good. Bucky was painfully aware of the tightness in his pants but she was tired, upset and he didn’t want to take advantage of her current state. He didn’t want to put too much meaning into her actions either. She had a tiring day, she probably didn’t mean it like he hoped she did. Plus, he still hadn’t actually talked to her, so there was this tiny detail too… So he let her finish the pastry, their eyes still linked and he let himself enjoy their proximity. She seemed to come back to reality when she yawned though, much to his disappointment (although he wouldn’t admit it out loud).

“I should probably go to bed.”

He nodded silently.

“Thanks again for the cookie.”

He suddenly thought about speaking then, finally saying the words he had been dying to tell her for weeks, since the very first time he met her, the words she was hopefully meant to hear from him. But instead, he leaned towards her and kissed her cheek like she had done this morning.

Saying she was surprised was an understatement. Sure, there had been some improvement in their relationship and he wasn’t uncomfortable of physical contact with her anymore (the hug was the proof of that) and maybe he even liked her (he kept her a seat and the cookie after all) but his behavior was still a question mark for her.  

As she walked back to Natasha’s room though, she couldn’t help herself from daydreaming a little. She opened the door and was welcomed by the image of her brother and best-friend sitting on the couch, an episode of Grey’s Anatomy waiting to be watched and a pot of ice-cream to be eaten.

“Here you are !” the red-hair exclaimed, motioning for Lallie to join them and the blonde felt herself smile with love and gratefulness.

Life could suck sometimes but she was surrounded by wonderful people and at this moment, it made every sucky thing insignificant.