#The International African American Museum: History

[ausetkmt]

the intersect of Trial and Triumph - the new museum

Craig Melvin discovers family history at International African American Museum

The International African American Museum: History is Alive

[lowcountry-gothic]

IAAM, The International African American Museum, officially opens June 27 at 10 AM in Charleston, South Carolina, on the site (Gadsden’s Wharf) where nearly half of all enslaved Africans entered North America.

[bigtoeinthewind]

International African American Museum, Charleston, South Carolina

I visited the International African American Museum located on Gadsden’s Wharf in Charleston, South Carolina. Gadsden’s Wharf was the first destination for an estimated 100,000 enslaved Africans during the peak of the international slave trade. Some researchers estimate that 40% of the enslaved Africans in the United States landed at Gadsden’s Wharf.

[frombehindthepen]

Soul Searching: How Do I Know Where I'm Going, if I Don't Know Where I've Been?

Soul Searching: How Do I Know Where I'm Going, if I Don't Know Where I've Been? #Heritage #Ancestors #FamilyHistory #IAAM

Image Credit: Linnaea Mallette “A people without the knowledge of their past history is like a tree without roots.” —Marcus Garvey, publisher, journalist, and political activist I’ve had a gnawing sense of curiosity over the last three decades about the untold history of my ancestors. I completed my maternal genealogical tree as much as I could with the help of the breadcrumbs my mother gave me…

[compositionrmknight]

International African American Museum at the largest US slave port site also taps into a surprising joy | CNN

[blackbackedjackal]

Are there any notable taxidermists that aren't spoken of often in history? Like women or POC who aren't talked about due to the trade being dominated mostly by white dudes?

Sinclair Clark - African-American hide tanner known for being one of the best tanners in the industry. Tanned most of the animals in the National Museum of Natural History and the racehorse Phar Lap.

John Edmonstone - African slave born in Guyana who learned taxidermy from a plantation owner. He was Charles Darwin's mentor.

Art Ledger - Noted as the first African-American to own a private taxidermy business. Founding member of the Ohio Taxidermy Association. He's currently still teaching and converted his former shop into the International Village Wildlife Museum.

Carl Cotton - Self-educated African-American taxidermist who was one of the first professional Black taxidermists in the states. He contributed to the majority of the dioramas at The Field Museum from 1947 to 1971.

[uwmspeccoll]

International Women's Day

In celebration of Women’s History Month and International Women’s Day (March 8), we’re showcasing one of writer, educator, intersectional feminist, poet, civil rights activist, and former New York public school librarian Audre Lorde’s (1934–1992) early collections of poetry. From a Land Where Other People Live was published in 1973 by Detroit’s groundbreaking Broadside Press. This independent press was founded in 1965 by poet, University of Detroit librarian, and Detroit’s first poet laureate Dudley Randall (1914-2000) with the mission to publish the leading African American poetry of the time in a well-designed format that was also "accessible to the widest possible audience." A comprehensive catalog of Broadside Press’s impressive roster of artists (including Gwendolyn Brooks, Nikki Giovanni, and Alice Walker, to name a few), titled Broadside Authors and Artists: An Illustrated Biographical Directory, was published in 1974 by educator and fellow University of Detroit librarian Leaonead Pack Drain-Bailey (1906-1983).  

Lorde described herself in an interview with Callaloo Literary Journal in 1990 as “a Black, Lesbian, Feminist, warrior, poet, mother doing [her] work”. She dedicated her life to “confronting and addressing injustices of racism, sexism, classism, and homophobia.” From a Land Where Other People Live is a powerfully intimate expression of her personal struggles with identity and her deeply rooted critiques of social injustice. The work was nominated for the National Book Award for poetry in 1974, the same year that Broadside Press published New York Head Shop and Museum, another volume of Lorde’s poetry featured in our collection. You can find more information on her writings and on the organization inspired by her life and work by visiting The Audre Lorde Project.     

More posts on Broadside Press publications  

More Women’s History Month posts  

More International Women’s Day posts  

-- Ana, Special Collections Graduate Fieldworker 

[mai-333]

Important black, women, fashion designers

Diversity and inclusivity has long been an issue in the fashion industry, but this isn’t just a problem within modelling but also in the designers themselves. Black people face far more adversity when it comes to getting into higher education or careers, and so becoming a well known fashion designer is a much harder task. As it is Black History Month now it is a great time to shed a light on these designers and talk about the impact they have made on the industry.

Ann Lowe

Ann Lowe is considered the first African-American fashion designer. She created unique designs that were worn by high class women throughout the 1920s to 60s. Most notable she designed the wedding dress worn by Jacqueline Kennedy. Due to racism she never received the credit she deserved, but today her work is exhibited at the metropolitan museum of art.

Liya Kebede

Kebede is an Ethiopian supermodel, and fashion designer, who later founded the brand LemLem. Started in 2007, LemLem was the first African international fashion brand. LemLem is a slow fashion, sustainable brand, that uses hand woven fabrics from African Artisans, and creates colourful, patterned resort wear for women. LemLem has also helped preserve the art of local weaving in Africa, while also helping the economy, and paving the way for more brands like it to start up.

Grace Wales Bonner

Grace Wales Bonner’s brand Wales Bonner, started as a menswear fashion label and later moved into womenswear as well. Taking much of her inspiration from African and European history, Wales Bonner creates cultural designs of a mix of Sportswear and tailoring. Since starting her fashion brand, Wales Bonner has won many awards for her designs, such as at the British Fashion Awards.

Rihanna

Rihanna is a household name thanks to her fame in music, but now also with her brands Fenty, and Savage x Fenty. Rihanna was not only the first black woman, but the first ever woman to helm her own original brand at LVMH. Savage x Fenty offers affordable lingerie for all sizes, while Fenty offered more expensive and exclusive clothing until it’s closure in 2021. Today Rihanna remains one of the most important names in fashion.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 1

Author's Note: You must have read the "Black Boys Bloom Thorns First" series before trying to dip into this new book!

"I will be one of the greatest That is a vow, yeah, that is a promise Always wanted to be famous Just being real, yeah, just being honest

My haters gon' always be nameless Give them no cloud, I give them no power

Creators built different, they ancient Sooner than later, all will be ours…"

Iniko—"The King's Affirmation"

King N'Jadaka Udaku of the Panther Tribe from the kingdom of Wakanda sat at the head table for the Congressional Black Caucus's newly minted Pan-African symposium/dinner. Housed inside of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the event brought together Black leaders from all over the world that wanted to shape their future with the influence of Black American politicians after the great disaster of the Infinity War.

The king sipped from a glass of lemon water with his young Executive Assistant Mpilo by his side, very much aware of the eyes dragging across his intimidating figure in the midst of seventy-five world politicians of African descent with their various entourages. Women and men allowed to participate in the momentous occasion chanced glancing his way to assess what kind of man he was on this rare occasion that N'Jadaka visited Washington, D.C.

He grew accustomed to the staring. King N'Jadaka became the legend made flesh among them, the rare Black man of real power surrounded by other Black leaders that tried to balance governing in the face of American neo-imperialism. The people in that room would've given up their firstborn child just to be in his presence, especially the representatives from Sudan and Ethiopia. Thanos's ridiculous plan to snap problems away only created more dire ones on earth and Africa suffered as a result. The rise of new warloads and the loss of faith in democracy sprouted far and wide. Slavery, coups, and genocide had ramped up. Troubled nations in the motherland looked to Wakanda and not the U.S. for leadership, and that made N'Jadaka's stay in his former homeland dangerous. The C.I.A. had a bench warrant of death on his head. Western powers wanted the king of Wakanda eliminated.

The Golden Jaguar sighed and pressed his hands on his thighs and flexed his fingers to offset the ribbons of tension coursing through him. Despite it being an all Black affair, there were enemy ops in the conference hall among them. The Dora Milaje and his Onyx Squad remained visible and dispersed throughout the perimeter, their smart-looking uniforms marking them as superior protection among the American security hired to keep unwelcome outsiders from trying to sneak an audience with the Wakandan king.

This attempt at a heavily-publicized gathering of Black international elites became a way for powerless Black politicians in the U.S. to rival and possibly supplant N'Jadaka's influential UDC creation that made waves in under a year. No matter what power-to-the-people slogans were used to get them in office, Black American politicians were still…politicians. No different than their white counterparts that only worried about getting re-elected and stuffing their pockets with money, connections, and a fat board member assignment or consultation position on some corporations dime after retirement. No matter the pithy declarations about supporting the Black community he heard all evening, there were wolves in the room seeking access to more power. The white American power structure lit a fire under the CBC's ass to put together something that would convince diaspora Africans to join with them instead of the Wakandans. N'Jadaka knew what it was and decided to participate anyway. Just to let the CBC know he was watching them closely and feigning diplomacy. America was a weak and decaying order. The bored king found solace knowing he would be its demise.

N'Jadaka tapped his hand on the fancy table cloth. Mpilo took note of his mood and quickly checked his comm tab for the expected time of arrival for Yani and the children. The trip abroad had lasted over two weeks, most of it spent at the United Nations in Geneva, and meetings in New York, London, and South Africa. N'Jadaka cancelled a trip to Saudi Arabia when one of the crown princes of an oil billionaire insulted him on a viral vid. He made an example of them by snubbing a much-anticipated visit there. Any form of anti-Blackness anywhere was swiftly aired out. Mexico, Argentina, Spain, France, Italy, and the Dominican Republic were already smarting from his public call-out of their treatment of Black people due to an increase of racialized violence targeting poor Black citizens in their nations. With Yani's urging and Ramonda's powerful voice as an ambassador, there was a rallying call against global femcide in the wake of the disappearance of so many people.

The U.S. didn't let the great loss of citizens stop their continuing encroachment of resources and they took advantage of pumping predatory capitalism along. What could've been a moment of self-reflection, a shift in priorities, and a new way of being for the country as a whole was simply an opportunity to prey on weaker nations even harder. Their only hindrance in achieving more power was the rise of Wakanda under N'Jadaka's leadership. He instilled fear in every nation that wanted life to go on the same way, and he also gave hope to those parts that saw a chance at progressive changes aligning with Wakanda. The western powers still gasped at his U.N. speech criticizing colonial apartheid in Palestine and Gaza. The gasp turned into full-fledged choking when he charged genocide co-signed and funded by the Americans. Once he pontificated on the historical similarities between Gaza, South Africa, and the Black American segregation of his own people, his War Dogs got wind of Mossad operations trying to penetrate Wakandan intelligence through the C.I.A.

Back home, the continent was split.

African nations that had long been ignored and left to suffer on their own benefitted from supporting Wakanda. N'Jadaka flooded their lands with tech support, agricultural advances, doctors, and a quick rebuilding of infrastructures with his Wakandan Humanitarian Corps that embarrassed the U.S.. At N'Jadaka's urging, Azania and Caanan had stopped selling uranium, colbalt, and platinum to anyone outside of Africa in exchange for advanced agricultural expansion. Mining had ruined and polluted their lands with run-off depleting usable soil and water. Rapid climate change didn't help them either and the neighboring nations were on the verge of famine. Wakanda helped clean their water, soil, and air for free, allowing farmers to produce a bumper crop that saved millions from starvation and prevented them from becoming refugees in other nations. Those who had been malnourished received the best medical treatment, and once snatched from the brink of disaster, Azania and Caanan were staunch allies for good.

Niganda and Mohannda were a different story, currying favor from the CBC leaders and complaining to the U.S. president that Wakanda was a global threat to sovereignty. The other African nations galvanized by the freely given help, threw all of their allegiance to the Wakandans, thus leading other unaligned African nations to fear him creating a United States of Wakanda to rule them all.

It wasn't a bad idea.

He never acknowledged those types of concerns and just let the rumors grow to keep his enemies on their toes. His own father N'Jobu had flirted with visions of a united continent under Wakandan rule in his journals. Currently, N'Jadaka scrambled to replace War Dogs lost to the blip in order to keep his finger on the pulse of other nations.

"Princess Yani will arrive within the next two hours. They have crossed onto the Atlantic," Mpilo said.

N'Jadaka nodded. He gave Mpilo a full-time job as his personal assistant since the loss of his father in the snap. The king had no idea the young man suffered that loss until months after the memorial honoring the lost ones. Mpilo continued to do his work professionally until Yani brought the news to the king's attention. She recognized Mpilo's family name from one of the palace attendants sending personal condolences to their staff on her behalf. When N'Jadaka questioned him, Mpilo broke down in tears in the king's office. His father and two oldest brothers had vanished leaving behind his mother and baby sister. Barely an adult, Mpilo now had the responsibility of looking out for his immediate family. N'Jadaka terminated his fellowship and gave him a permanent job title as his executive assistant.

The king let out a sigh of relief.

He needed to be with his family again. Normally Yani would be with him, but she was on her own global tour promoting her book, "The Wakandan Way of Birth". Their children traveled with her and he caught interview segments of her in three countries. The world was enamored with the exotic princess. It was her first appearance outside of Wakanda representing the nation. N'Jadaka grinned thinking about the reaction of the Caribbean. The entire region went nuts finding out officially that an island girl had snagged the most powerful man in the world.

She promoted the book in St. Thomas first, and he hated not being there with her. She traveled to Jamaica next to visit the land of her father and paid her respects to their relatives there. In the midst of the new global normal, Yani's book became a smashing success. All proceeds went to funding her midwifery scholarships to further the number of Black and Native midwives and doulas learning at the Wakandan birthing centers. The money allowed women to focus fulltime on their craft without monetary constraints. She planned to give more once she became queen because the palace allotted a salary for Queen Consorts that she planned to use for more income-based scholarships. Wherever there were Black and Indigenous women in need, Yani made sure they took priority over anyone else.

Everyone wanted their hands on the book. A Wakandan publishing company mass marketed the coffee-table sized manauscript, and they looked exquisite. The cover was created by a Birnin S'Yan artisan who made a vibranium-tinged dye that was threaded into a gorgeous royal purple and silver cloth overlay. The book had fifty full-page color photos that Yani spent months agonizing over from a total of 200. The cover photo itself deserved to hang in a museum. It showed a young woman holding her newborn daughter and they were both dressed in the vibrant colors of the River Tribe.

When the pre-release online sales skyrocketed, Yani made the decision to only provide non-online sales out of Wakanada through global Black bookstores. The international brick and mortar stores made bank with the flood of non-Black customers wanting their hands on something from Wakanda. Even people who weren't even interested in childbirth or culture clamored to snatch up a copy just to get a glimpse of what Wakanda looked like from the inside. The first print sold out in one week.

The talks finally ended and the affair moved into a spacious outdoor dining area where a small jazz trio played music in a corner. The balmy weather made it comfortable to be outside and he took in a deep inhale of D.C. air.

Okoye and Ayo kept the pre-dinner rush to talk to the king at a distance, giving N'Jadaka time to snag a moment of peace. After ten minutes he shook hands and greeted caucus leaders, trying not to look annoyed at their requests for selfies with him. He obliged to be polite and to give an air of camaraderie. Everyone wanted everyone else to think they had connections to him by how loud they talked or laughed with him. He knew the drill.

The hosts ushered his entourage to their dining seats near the front of another podium. No one pretended to be sly about sneaking candids of him with their smartphones.

"King N'Jadaka, your son is here to see you right away," Ayo whispered in his ear.

N'Jadaka looked around and spotted Riki walking out from the museum with his personal Dora, Quamba. All the diners stopped to watch the prince of Wakanda walk through with his hands behind his back and his eyes searching for his Baba. Some people tried to snap photos of Riki, but all of N'Jadaka's children wore necklaces that thwarted any cameras from getting clear pictures of them by jamming up electronics and flash photography cameras.

Riki looked too clean.

Yani braided his hair in the spiral style of his Wakandan ancestors, threaded with shells and beads that bounced around his shoulders. This week, Riki wore jade and black fingernail polish decorated with mini panther claws in bright gold which was the rage of young children in Birnin Zana who loved their local team that played a popular sport called ukudlala ngomlenze…leg play. It was a game that required balance, and intense leg flexibility as two teams battled each other on a low swinging wooden bridge that moved across a deep body of water. One member of each team took turns standing in the center of the swinging bridge as the other team members of the challenging team split up on either side to rock the opponent off their feet, without any of their own teammates falling over too. The narrow bridge swung higher and higher, pushing athletes to go against gravity, their exhausted limbs put to the test for long durations. N'Jadaka had promised Riki a trip to the national competition in the River Tribe territory once they returned home.

Riki's black royal sash rested snug across his chest with the family crest emblazoned on it. The boy was seven-years old and sprouting a bit of height. He was almost as tall as Sydette and would probably surpass her by the time he was eight. The freckles on his red-brown skin were more pronounced, covering his nose and cheeks. Riki's eyes lit up when he spotted N'Jadaka.

"Baba!"

The boy ran past chuckling adults who admired the tailored royal suit and polished shoes. N'Jadaka held his arms out and his son jumped onto his lap and kissed his cheek. The happy king wrapped his child up in love.

"I've missed your busy behind," N'Jadaka said. "Where's your Mama and the girls?"

"Changing clothes. I couldn't wait to see you," Riki said, squeezing his arms around N'Jadaka's neck.

"Good trip, Dumplin?"

"Yes. People went crazy for Mama and her book. I'm ready to go home though. I don't like this country…the people here are so fake. They only like you if you're rich or famous."

"Hungry?"

Riki nodded and scanned the tables for the evening's selection. He scrunched up his nose at the servers placing rolls and butter on the tables.

"Can we eat this food, Baba?" Riki asked.

"We have people watching the chef in the kitchen."

The Udaku children had been taught to reject outside food unless their parents permitted them to partake. N'Jadaka had become cautious with poisoning and normally had his own personal chef make all of their food, but he opted to watch the American cooks this time around instead of turning down a plate. The head chef for the evening was a famous Black American from New Orleans who read that N'Jadaka liked food from that region and wanted to create a menu to impress the powerful king.

"Sit next to me," N'Jadaka said, pulling out a chair for Riki.

Mpilo took a seat across from them at the circular table that seated twelve. Members of the CBC organizing committee greeted him then took their seats at other tables. The jazz music grew softer as guests took their seats all throughout the guarded space. A congresswoman from Philly took to the podium near N'Jadaka's area and announced the arrival of Yani and Ramonda. Eager applause broke out and N'Jadaka stood up from his seat. He helped Riki stand in his chair so he could see his mother and aunt enter.

N'Jadaka's Uncle Bakari escorted Yani and Ramonda together as Sydette and Joba walked in front of them wearing matching purple dresses with their hair twisted and pulled back with amethyst panther-shaped hair clips. Yani mesmerized the crowd in a shimmery emerald green dress that revealed all her rounded curves. She styled her hair with extensions in an upswept fancy roll that denoted her status as queen-to-be. Ramonda had the crowd transfixed with her tall purple isicholo and deep purple gown. Uncle Bakari appeared dapper in his black tux. N'Jadaka's grandfather Dante escorted Bakari's wife Shavonne and they all made their way toward the front where their Dora Milaje escorts brought them to the king's table.

Sydette and Joba dashed to him first and he picked up both girls and smothered their faces with kisses amidst their squeals of delight for being with him again. He put them down the moment Yani reached him and he couldn't hide from the world his love for her.

He wrapped eager arms around her tight and pressed his forehead against her brow. The tense energy in his body drained down into the floor and he exhaled a long breath. Yani rested her arms around his massive shoulders, her perfume drowning him in memories of their shared bed and the last time they had been alone without the world watching their every move.

"Baby, I missed you so much."

"I know. I couldn't wait to get here and hold you."

"You know these niggas is starin' so we better play it cool for Ramonda's sake."

Yani giggled and pulled away from him. He kissed her hand and turned to Ramonda, giving his auntie double kisses on both cheeks. He hugged his grandpop next and finally showed love to his American aunt and uncle who raised him after his parents died. They all took their seats at the dining table. Yani sat at his right, and Riki, Joba, and Sydette took over his left side.

As the first courses of salads, soups, and finger foods were brought out, announcements were made. The head chef was brought out and recognized. N'Jadaka allowed the nervous man to take a picture with him holding up a plate of sausage gumbo with rice. There was special recognition given to Yani, along with a surprise plaque presented to Ramonda for her role as an ambassador fostering goodwill between America and Wakanda.

N'Jadaka caught up with his aunt and uncle and the family chatter reminded him of being home except they were being watched like fish in a fishbowl. When dessert and coffee were brought out at the end of the meal, Ramonda switched seats with Riki and leaned in toward the king.

"President Mubiri would like to have a nightcap with you during the mixer inside the museum," Ramonda said.

"Why?"

Ramonda's sharp eyes observed the guests.

"He believes D.C. is neutral ground and he would like to discuss rumors of you inciting a coup in his nation."

"Sounds like C.I.A. bullshit."

"Even so, it wouldn't hurt to appear cordial. Get some photos taken that shows two rival nations talking together. Yani is your icebreaker. Madame Mubiri is here, too. A nice photo-op of beautiful African women mingling will make the CBC very happy."

N'Jadaka glanced at Yani's fingers. She had on her deadly finger armor. Hopefully she wouldn't threaten the man again.

He signaled for Quamba and several Onyx Squad security to take his children and grandfather back to their penthouse suite at the hotel they were lodged in for the weekend. He hugged and kissed the children promising to read a bedtime story to them later. People moved out of the way and stared at his heirs. All three children walked like royalty, heads held high, backs kept straight.

The after dinner mixer started inside the lobby of the museum where a giant abstract art installation above their heads looked like the unfurling of giant bronze ribbons. N'Jadka read the description of the sculpture that was supposed to represent the swinging motions like a band of angels coming down to carry Black Americans back home like the old spiritual "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot". The artist, Richard Hunt, used suspended cables to anchor the work, and the swooping arcs of the bronze bands reminded N'Jadaka of his mother's arms around his body when he was small.

Several servers traipsed the lobby carrying drinks and savory finger foods. A D.J. played contemporary R&B and the guests relaxed into full-blown partying mode. Bakari and Shavonne headed toward a display of Harriet Tubman's shawl further inside the museum and Mpilo escorted Ramonda to meet some caucus members who were dying to be seen with her.

N'Jadaka held out his arm and Yani rested her hand on it. She walked with a majestic stride that matched his and they mingled for a bit. Yani's charm was her greatest weapon and they spent a considerable amount of time discussing her book and tour. Her radiance overwhelmed a few people who couldn't stop admiring her even as they moved on to other guests. The allure of power was a true aphrodisiac, and Yani wielded it well. All of her Wakandan training and years of experience dealing with all sorts of people paid off in spades as she delighted American dignitaries. He couldn't stop staring at her himself. Her voice lit up his face and he smiled at everything she said. Yani's youth also surprised people. She would be entering her late twenties soon enough, but carried a greater maturity and self-awareness in the last year representing Wakanda internationally.

They worked the first three corners of the lobby before the mixer branched out to the rest of the museum, and they headed toward President Mubiri and Madame Mubiri who lingered near a replica of a slave quarter. The Mohanndan president stood with a glass of liquor in his hand entertaining cronies as his wife watched her husband's dour animated face with his uppercase gums spilling over his lowercase teeth. Her eyes sparked up when Yani approached holding out her hands toward the woman.

"Madame Habiba Mubiri, I finally get to see you again in a less formal setting," Yani enthused.

Yani ignored Mubiri and immediately pulled Habiba away from her husband, touching her hand in informal friendship.

"Mubiri," N'Jadaka said, offering his hand. Mubiri shook it.

"King N'Jadaka."

Yani reached for a glass of wine from a server that had been freshly poured from the bar. She presented it to N'Jadaka using the ancient submissive stance of queens in Wakanda, holding the glass up to him with her right hand, while her other hand cradled the elbow of the serving arm. N'Jadaka caught the lust in Mubiri's eyes again for his fiancé. He took the glass from Yani and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, baby," he said.

"May I please borrow Madame Mubiri? I would love to introduce her to the head organizer," Yani asked Mubiri.

It was clear that Mubiri didn't want his wife to do anything, but Yani's seductive voice couldn't be denied. She played on the man's need to control women by asking his permission. Her earlier exaggerated submissive act toward N'Jadaka fed into the man's cultural ego. Yani upped the ante by touching his arm and squeezing it. Her touch ignited something in the president and he lifted his wife's arm and practically threw her at Yani.

"I'm sure you two have some important things to discuss without us present," she added.

"Enjoy yourselves," Mubiri said, his gaze plastered all over Yani's figure as the two women strolled further into the heart of the museum.

N'Jadka pretended to drink his wine while being focused on something else until Yani was gone.

"I thank you for the personal invitation to your wedding King N'Jadaka. I didn't think you would extend us any welcome to your country again."

"It's a time of celebration, not political intrigue. Yani wanted your wife there. They have been corresponding for a time getting to know each other. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"And miss the nuptials of that delightful woman you parade around like a trophy? Never. We will attend and enjoy the splendor."

They both drank in silence.

"Did you like the tour of the museum earlier?" N'Jadaka asked.

"An intriguing history lesson. You must be proud of your heritage here."

"I am."

"Rebels at heart. I see why the Americans want to control you."

"I know you don't want to stand here and shoot the shit about my lineage. You want to know if I'm plotting to throw you out of office."

Mubiri choked on his drink as N'Jadaka stared at his face. The Mohanndan's cronies flicked their eyes away in embarrassment, not expecting the king to be that blunt.

"What would I gain from having you taken out, Mubiri? There would only be another leader who thinks the same as you, so nothing would change. Pinning your hopes on the Americans holding me in check has not paid off in a year. I offer nothing but hope and a chance at directing Africa's vast internal wealth and ancient wisdom back to where it belongs…on all of our people."

"Our people? You Wakandans are stand-offish and think only of yourselves. These little excursions into other African nations giving them little trinkets of your resources reeks of a ploy to rule over us all. At least your uncle acted like a benevolent father-figure in the west."

"My uncle was not the man you all think he was. I am telling you now, to your face Barasa Mubiri…I have no plans for a coup, an assassination, nor war with your country. Did you not read my fiancé's book? Wakandans value peaceful living, enhancements to prolong life, and self-actualization that benefits the whole and not just the individual. We kept to ourselves for centuries even when we had the means to colonize the world and bend it to our will. But we didn't."

"I still think that is an option in your arsenal, King N'Jadaka."

"I am from the school of 'don't start none, won't be none'. My goal is transformative liberation for whomever wants it."

"So-called liberators often transform into something sinister, if given the chance."

The king moved closer to the east African president, closing the small gap between them.

"I only plan to bring hell to those who mean us harm. Do you plan to cause problems for us with this U.S. administration?" N'Jadaka asked.

Mubiri shook his head and smiled.

"I want peace and prosperity for our people too."

"Good. You have heard directly from my mouth what I want. Let's spend the rest of the evening showing the world that Africans can co-exist on the continent without people confirming their biases about us being warlords and despots. We can be civil with our disagreements. Everything doesn't have to be bloodshed, or rumors of hostile take-overs."

N'Jadaka excused himself with Okoye by his side.

"You were very civil, kumkani," Okoye said.

"I promised Umama that I would control my hostile tendencies here."

"She would be very pleased. Princess Yani is speaking to a delegation from the Sudan. Ambassador Udaku is with the Press Secretary for the American President."

N'Jadaka peeked at his kimoyos. He wanted to leave as soon as possible without making it glaringly obvious that he was ready to dip. His declining of the White House meeting with the President didn't sit well among the ruling Republican party.

"Kumkani!"

Mpilo rushed to him breathing heavily.

"You must come immediately," Mpilo said.

N'Jadaka quickened his steps with Okoye at his side. Mpilo led them through a throng of people and Yani rushed forward, clasping his hand in hers.

"What is it?" he said.

He squeezed a protective hand around hers and she pulled him toward another room. His family stood with other guests admiring a wall display. Ramonda stood with Dante and his uncle Bakari had taken off his glasses. Shavonne held an arm over Bakari's shoulder and they made room for N'Jadaka to move in front of them. Yani linked her arm with his.

"We didn't know this was here," Yani said.

N'Jadaka looked at a series of life-sized color photos of his mother Califia leading a Berkley BSU meeting. Her young face looked on fire like her hair as she held up a fist, her brows knitted together, and her mouth open spitting fire. A second photo connected to the first in a collage-styled presentation showed her carrying N'Jadaka on her hip. He was four years old wearing intricate cornrows and they both looked directly at whoever took the picture for a public event in Oakland. A deep inhale filled his lungs. The third image brought the handsome beauty of his father N'Jobu to life. He wore the dark ceremonial royal robes of Wakanda looking noble and fly as fuck. A fourth photo made N'Jadaka blink trying to figure out where it came from. He sported an MIT sweatshirt and his grin looked so innocent long ago. It came back to him. Chocolate City. A school paper had done an article about him and his dorm mates The final photo was a formal publicity photo of himself as the king of Wakanda. The entire collage mural threaded his Black American roots to his Wakandan roots, forming a romanticized link of the diaspora back to the motherland.

He appreciated his family becoming a historical footnote in the museum. Dante wiped his eyes and Yani wrapped an arm around him, helping the older man to reconcile the pain they felt in not having Califia and N'Jobu there with them.

The museum director approached N'Jadaka with a timid smile, her pale brown eyes dazzled by how close she stood next to him and his entourage. She down casted her gaze quickly when he stared directly at her.

"We hope you like this new installation King N'Jadaka. Unfortunately, the artist has been ill, or else he would've been here," the director said.

"Very impressive," he said.

His eyes lingered on his mother's image holding him while Ramonda gazed at N'Jobu's image. He wondered what thoughts went through her mind. Was there regret? Any remains of sadness that he had chosen someone else over her?

"Every time I see your parents, I see our children," Yani said. "You look so much like Riki in this one."

Yani reached out and let her fingers hover under the chin of his childhood image. He wanted to go home. Back to Wakanda. He whispered in Ramonda's ear and she slid next to the director to heap praises on the installation. Clasping Yani's hand, he guided his relatives toward the nearest exit. The Dora snapped to attention flanking them while the Onyx squad scanned for any problems.

Five dark SUVs pulled up to the side of the museum with Kingsguard drivers. Their entire party was whisked away to a luxury hotel in the heart of the capital and they disembarked in an underground parking garage to avoid paparazzi.

N'Jadaka entered his suite with Yani, and their children tackled him onto the floor wearing their pajamas. Dante watched them from a couch for a few minutes before standing up.

"I'm heading to bed, JaJa. What time do you need me to be ready for Joba's grandma?" Dante asked.

"She's arriving with the rest of Disa's family in the half cruiser around noon. We'll pick up some family in St. Thomas and Jamaica too before we travel back to Wakanda. The wedding rehearsal happens on Wednesday instead of Thursday."

"Yani's still doing the Today show interview?"

"Yes," Yani said, pulling Sydette from on top of N'Jadaka's head, "It's the only place I'm promoting the book."

Dante looked surprised.

N'Jadka gave Yani a look to take the children to their shared junior suite. Dante watched the family leave and he moved closer to his grandson.

"What's going on?" Dante asked.

"I don't want Yani in this country any longer than she has to be. We have some credible threats here in the states, and we're doing some culling of problems."

"Culling? You mean killing right?"

N'Jadaka glanced over his shoulder. Yani's voice gently scolded the children from being so hyper and loud before bed.

"Grandpop, things are escalating. Neutralizing threats will become more common for me."

"I don't have any issues with that."

N'Jadaka nodded.

"I'm turning in. See ya in the morning."

"I'm sleeping in."

"That doesn't surprise me."

He squeezed his grandfather's shoulder and watched the older man shuffle off to the adjoining door that led to another private suite. A Dora on night duty greeted Dante and closed the suite door behind him.

N'Jadaka stepped into the bedroom with his children frolicking across two queen beds. Sydette bounced on hers and played with her kimoyo beads while Riki and Joba tried to sidestep Yani's attempts to get them under the covers. N'Jadaka clapped his hands and all three children stopped goofing around and centered their attention on him. Yani placed hands on her hips, her long extensions fallen over one shoulder.

"Hey, what's going on in here? Mama said it's time for bed. Stop playing around."

"You promised us a story," Joba said.

He sighed and tread softly to the younger children's bed and plopped down on it. Pulling Joba onto his lap, he nuzzled his chin on top of her head. She touched his cheek.

"Are you too tired Baba? We can wait for another time," Joba said.

Her soft voice and soft hands brought forth all the mental exhaustion of the day.

"Thank you, Sunshine," he said.

He kissed Joba's cheek and she scrambled under the covers next to her brother. Riki patted his hand and he stroked the boy's braids.

"Night, Baba," Sydette said.

His oldest climbed under thick blankets and blew him a kiss. He pretended to catch it and place it lovingly on his cheek.

"Tomorrow you will go with Grandpop to have breakfast with Uncle Bakari and Aunt Shavonne, then Grandma Theresa will arrive and we'll all meet up for lunch," Yani said.

"When are we leaving this place?" Riki asked.

"Soon," N'Jadaka said. "Get some sleep."

All the children looked relieved. He slipped his hand over Yani's and pulled her out of the room, turning off the lights and closing the bedroom door. Yani threw her arms around his waist and they hugged each other, allowing their mutual warmth and affection to flow through one another. He had his family back.

N'Jadaka's sleep was interrupted not by a sound, but by the missing softness removed from his side. Opening his eyes, he spread his hand out feeling for Yani. A toilet flushed from the bathroom outside of the hotel bedroom and she padded in quietly, closing the door before re-joining him. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand he was surprised to see it was only three in the morning. His body felt like it had slept later than that. He spooned back around Yani's lush form and they threaded the fingers of their right hands together, tucking them under her breasts.

The TV they watched before nodding off played a twenty-four hour news channel. Broadcasts of his visit stayed on loop most of the night, but the current images flashing onscreen highlighted the weather and celebrity gossip.

"At the end of this week we will be married," he whispered into Yani's ear.

She giggled and pushed her rump against his crotch.

"Queen Yani and King N'Jadaka," he said. "Nervous?"

"A little. Our counseling sessions with Elder Efetebo gave me a lot to think about. Umama and Ramonda have helped me too. Feels like I'm a part of something bigger than anything I have ever known in Wakanda…and yet…"

N'Jadaka reached over and turned on a lamp. He turned her face toward him.

"What is it?"

Yani's eyes watered and she blinked quickly. Two small tears trekked a lonely trail down her round cheeks. He kissed them away and cuddled her in his body heat and strength. She continued speaking in a low voice.

"At times…I know many still see us as outsiders on the noble court. They don't come for mi like they used to in the beginning, but I see it in their eyes. I know they want you take a Wakandan concubine. As modern and visionary as our country is, they hold on to these old timey ways to discredit our reign. I can see if they don't want Sweet Pea to have claim to the throne, but Riki and Joba have the bloodline in them. That should be enough. They want you to have a legally sanctioned child with a second wife to make the new line more legitimate…more Wakandan than diaspora. Everyone is scared to say this to your face, so that is the only thing that keeps them in line."

"Zola and Ilana tell you this?"

"They tell me everything. They love us."

"I've been on the elders' asses about that shit."

"There's only so much they can do. They can't stop other people from talking what they feel to be true in their hearts. A segment of the population will always see us diluting the bloodline."

"I will have Zola and Ilana tell me who the gossipmongers are and I will cast them out on their asses."

Yani sighed and burrowed into his arms.

"That will only make them feel justified and maybe cause more trouble for me in the palace. I will deal with it in mi own way."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Right now I'm a weak piece on the chess board. But once that royal isicholo is on my head, I will have more power to play a different position. I won't need to run to you all the time complaining."

"You don't run to me."

She rubbed his bicep and kissed the skin there on his arm.

"I can stand on my own. I have to in order to survive the politics as queen. The more time I spend in the throne room with you, I see why you wanted me there so much."

"Does it overwhelm you?"

"Sometimes. The Council of Elders are so particular…so strict. Like I said, we have the most modern country and I can't get over how backwards they can be with a willful adherence to tradition without even considering the impact of our population being made up of so many young citizens. Nearly half of our citizens are under the age of twenty. Even before the Infinity War. These young people are hungry for change. They want to create new traditions. Look at Zola and Ilana, my staunchest supporters…their desire for new things spills over into every conversation we have together. So much goes on back home and yet, we both have to deal with the rest of the world's problems too. I tell myself I'm up to the challenge, that I can multitask and handle every little fire that breaks out in the Court of Nobles, but it can look daunting at times."

"We have each other. We have our family. There's nothing we can't get through together. I put us all in hell and we climbed back out… you and me. I plan on protecting you Yani, and providing you with anything you need for yourself or our children. The nation will know your power and influence for generations to come. I mean…look at your book tour. The world knows who you are…"

Yani's eyes drifted away from N'Jadaka's face. She reached for the tv remote on the nightstand and turned up the volume on a previously broadcasted segment. Onscreen a male news anchor out of D.C. spoke over a background image of N'Jadaka back in his Killmonger days. Mercenary fatigues covered his body and his short locs had barely curled over his forehead.

"They outed you," Yani said.

N'Jadaka listened to the anchor list his accomplishments at MIT and the Navy before cutting to alleged covert missions for various off-the-grid companies and ghost units. He sat up on the bed as a female political analyst sat in front of an image of the Pentagon. She shared a clip of N'Jadaka's speech to the U.N. and inferred that the Wakandan king's connection to the C.I.A. and mercenary past would prove to be a detriment to African nations seeking true democracy. The overall segment painted N'Jadaka in an unsavory light.

"…King N'Jadaka has stated publicly at the latest U.N. gathering in Geneva that he will continue to interfere with African nations that are in turmoil. Our government can't afford to have Wakanda becoming the world police if the U.N. can't rally around the support of ending genocide in the Congo or demanding that Rwanda and Uganda stop their pillaging of coltan in that region. His calling out of multinationals is dangerous to the progress America is making to help the DRC put an end to the loss of life there. We've sat on the sidelines long enough waiting to see what direction Wakanda will move in since the mysterious ousting of King T'Challa, and now that we know the full background of the rebel king…this by the way is what he is known as in Mohannda and Niganda. Those two nations also have large deposits of colbalt, coltan, and uranium, and their leaders have hinted King N'Jadaka may wage war to secure those resources just like he hoards vibranium from the rest of the world."

"Janice, are you suggesting that King N'Jadaka's background as a C.I.A. operative may provoke a World War Three scenario in the future? He is in our country right now, in this city exactly with other African leaders and Black politicians from around the world. You really believe he will bring us to the brink of another global disaster after we've gone through so much?"

"He is a threat to our national security and the security of other African countries who desire peace and free-trade without violence. It is our duty to protect those people, and to protect the leadership who want to sell resources that benefit all. We are all witnessing the emergence of a secretive superpower under the leadership of a man we trained in black ops and who has no allegiance to anyone. I find this disconcerting and frankly, Bill, I'm shocked at how casual the leadership in this country is taking this troubling revelation."

"Excluding his recent U.N. speech, King N'Jadaka has only spoken out publicly against the on-going genocidal war in the DRC. As far as we know, he hasn't done anything outright on the continent of Africa that should warrant the type of forceful caution you are suggesting. Why are you so adamant about this discourse in the capital?"

"Wakanda is an unknown factor in global conflicts to date. U.S. officials and the Pentagon would like to see it stay that way, but King N'Jadaka appears to be rattling his saber. His training and access to the most powerful weaponry on earth scares me. It should scare everyone, especially with his negative views toward the United States…the land of his birth."

"Genius…decorated solder…Navy SEAL…C.I.A. operative…mercenary…king…you've given us a lot to think about with your upcoming book about Wakanda's place in geopolitics."

"Here's something else to think about. King N'Jadaka —Erik Stevens when he was an American—used to have Tony Stark as a mentor."

"Iron Man?"

"Yes."

"Are you implicating the billionaire superhero in anything to do with King N'Jadaka's spectacular political trajectory?"

"I'm only pointing out how entrenched the Wakandan king is within bleeding edge technology in the military arms race and his close proximity to someone many found problematic years ago as an industrialist. Who knows if these two men are still in contact with one another? Tony Stark should be called to Washington to answer pertinent questions about his past with this king."

N'Jadaka flicked the off button for the tv. Yani placed it back on the nightstand.

"They've been sitting on this shit for a year. Been wondering when the C.I.A. would drop it in the court of public opinion. Of course that bitch pushes her upcoming book during the last leg of your international book tour. I bet all of your book sales that Everett Ross had a hand in being a ghostwriter for it."

"Will they connect me with your mercenary past? Klaue?"

"No. Klaue used aliases on St. Thomas."

"What if they ask you about how we met?"

N'Jadaka lifted a long braid from Yani's face and tucked it behind her ear.

"I was on vacation in paradise and met you…a beautiful island girl. We fell in love and that's all there is to it."

Yani kissed his lips gently and rolled back on her side. He curled around her and they snuggled for a bit. He whispered in her ear.

"I don't want you to worry about anything that woman said. They've been looking to smear me every chance they get. It doesn't take away from those who support and believe in us."

She nodded into his arm and he kissed her temple.

"These people can only speculate from afar. We'll always be ahead of them. The only thing I want you thinking about is how you'll look in that wedding dress when I see you walking down the aisle," he said.

"That woman on tv tried to make you look like a monster, but all of your achievements only made you look like a man they should praise."

"I came up out the mud and took my talents to the last place they expected. They're starting to see what Africa could become once I get these wars abolished. Africa has always been the center of the world. Once we get the rest of these colonial shackles off her feet, I'll make her flex."

"You sound like you want to be king of the motherland."

"Don't tempt me."

Yani glanced back at him.

"Would you do something like that?"

"No more talk about the world. The sun hasn't come up yet and the children are still asleep."

N'Jadaka smashed his lips against hers and hurriedly slipped his tongue in her mouth to hush more inquiries. Her watery mouth tasted of 7-Up that she must've snuck a sip of from the suite's mini-fridge. His mind slowed down the way it always did when he kissed her. The heartbeat thumps in his chest matched the speed of hers. His long locs fanned out around her face and his Golden Jaguar necklace claws grazed her throat. Yani hummed into his mouth while sucking his tongue and he gasped at the initial thickening of his dick.

Pulling away, he stared down at her face, taking in the wide round eyes with curling lashes that fluttered whispery kisses against his neck as he kissed her forehead.

"I hate when we're apart," he said.

"I know."

"I love being with you like this when the children are in the next room asleep and safe…when no one from the outside bothers us. I can have you all to myself…oohhh…."

Yani slid her hands down his chest and squeezed the growing bulge in his pajama bottoms. He leaked a growing spot of precum and she toyed with it through the silk barrier. Her fingers became sticky and slick. He groaned and murmured her name into her hair, lifting his body higher so he could watch her hand do wonders teasing his erection.

Resting against her, he slid his fingers across her chest, fondling her breasts through her gauzy nightgown top. He pulled down on it until her titties spilled out, the plump nipples feeling like fat grapes on his fingertips. Pinching and plucking at them gently, he played with her breasts until he was ready for more. He climbed above her and pushed his groin into her mound, the friction swelling his dick until it poked out of the waist band on its own. He tugged his pajama pants down and gripped the thick erection in his eager hand. Yani lifted off her gown and he pushed the covers back so he could see the blessed globes jiggle.

"Oh shit," he groaned.

He pressed the tip of his dick against her pierced clit and a glistening long thread of precum shined up her labia. Swiping the bulbous head back and forth, he smeared the clear fluid on her fat vulva like icing on a chocolate cake. Yani shifted her big thighs and her ass cheeks jiggled. He smacked the underside hard and the recoil from that position forced a heavy moan from his lips. She had gained weight. He knew her trip back to St. Thomas and Jamaica meant eating good childhood food, and his woman didn't miss nary a meal. It was a gift to him no doubt.

Kicking off his pajama bottoms all the way, N'Jadaka played with Yani's breasts and labia until he was ready to penetrate the pretty pink opening flashing at him. Yani turned on her side and he parted her labia with one fluid motion of his dick sinking deep into her. She whimpered at the stretching of her walls after a long absence.

"I won't go crazy, baby…I promise. Too many people close around," he huffed.

Her pussy accommodated his girth with a tight wetness he was accustomed to having mold like a second skin around his dick. All he could think of was President Mubiri ogling Yani's body, especially her ass. It looked so round and ripe in her dress. He thrust forward knowing that man would never know pussy as sweet and juicy as the one sheathing his exceptional length. Only kings deserved the clenching his dick received at that moment.

"Yani….dassit…baby…damn…"

He grit his teeth trying to keep from shouting. Lowering his head, he dropped his face into the back of her neck and muffled his vocal straining. In and out…her perfect gushy cavern squelched and he dug in deeper, wanting to hear the sounds of his balls smacking her ass.

"Fuck…girl…"

She arched her back and he smothered his body over hers, preventing her from taking control and making him nut too quick. His dick needed to marinate in her pussy. He held Yani's back against his chest and reveled in the snug pussy cradling his dick. Keeping still, he played with her clit without thrusting, making her indulge in the pressure off all that meat stuffed inside of her. She huffed into her pillow and wiggled her hips, but he kept her anchored against him without mercy.

"You miss Daddy's dick?" he asked.

"Yes."

She whimpered pitiful sounds and clawed the sheets, eventually wilting in his arms. His dick could stay hard for hours, the gift from the heart-shaped herb's power flowing through his blood. He rested in her walls for an hour, teasing her clit and whispering nasty things in her ear. She started crying from the delicate teasing of his fingers all over her jewel-pierced vulva for such a long time without release.

"You betta not cum until I tell you…okay?"

"Okay…okay…I can't take much more…"

She bit into his arm and the heat from her mouth made him chuckle. Yani sat on the edge of her orgasm. Her legs shook from the anticipation. He needed the slow revving from her to keep himself in check.

They shared a sex routine they always adhered to on their reunions since their year of living together in the palace. It was a way to protect her pussy from his veracity. He was never allowed to cum in her pussy first when they joined. It took too much out of her to handle him regularly, so he learned to control his first release and saved it for her submission to him on her knees. The king's affirmation was always a facial for his beautiful queen.

If Yani orgasmed too quickly first, he would head straight to pound town, spurting too much semen that always released the beast in him. Uniting their bodies in slow methodical build ups kept him manageable for her. As he resumed stroking her walls after the long delay of cockwarming, he kept tabs on his arousal levels. When it was time to shift the pace before he wore her down, he pulled his dick from her precious pink sanctuary. Yani scrambled off the bed to submit to his need for dominance.

He moved his legs over the bed and spread his thighs wider, giving Yani room to position her knees on the floor properly in front of him. She offered him her tits, smacking them together playfully, and he fondled a nipple, fisting his dick, and watching her big beautiful brown eyes stare up at him.

"I love you like this…looking up at me…yeah baby…open that mouth…stick out your tongue…yeah, just like that. You gon' let me fuck that pussy some more after this?"

She nodded, looking innocent and expectant.

"Sexy ass…" he hissed.

He bent down and kissed her and she sucked on his lower lip, tugging on the skin with her teeth. Pulling back he shoved his dick down her throat, the girth hallowing out her cheeks on both sides as she sucked and worked her neck. She smacked her lips against his tip, releasing it with a loud pop and a sliding of her tongue across her top lip.

"Suck dick so good…suck it some more…right there…let me stretch that mouth. Stop playing with it Yani, take that shit the right way…"

He reached out and softly slapped the side of her mouth and she gave him a sly grin and licked the underside of his thick ridge. He grabbed her hair then, yanking on the braids to remind her of her place. She hit that itchy sensitive part of his dick with the friction of her scandalous tongue. The thinnest part of the dermis seemed to rest there in that spot that gave her tongue-tip the secret combination to start making his dick leak with clear fluid again. His erection was like a rigid pole vault in her mouth and he was so ready to dismount with a fat nut. Yani hummed, and slowly licked along the sides of his dick. His breathing quickened to a pace that alarmed him. She was beginning to control him, making him react like a desperate man under her spell, and that was being disobedient. Her bratty behavior couldn't be corrected in the heat of her deep throating him. That would require major spanking and loud cursing. The last thing he wanted was for their children and security team to hear him curse a blue streak while spanking Yani's ass. She wanted him to hurry up and ejaculate so she could ride his dick and cum.

A surge of semen rose up through his balls. He slapped Yani again for putting a super charged gwak-gwak 3000 on him too soon. She became obedient again and squeezed his fat sack, staving off his release. He thought about letting her milk him and cumming in her mouth, but the decadent and demanding king wanted to paint her face with hot semen when he was ready. It was his way…he craved the ritual of it between them, and also because he knew a little secret about her.

He grinned slyly thinking about it.

Yani had been sneakily watching old videos of him with past lovers. Months earlier he had scanned old computers that he planned on destroying until his spyware cam detected unusual activity in secret files. The spycam revealed Yani's viewrship and he chuckled at the thought of her using him for her personal porn collection. He said nothing, and left the old computers where they stayed in their home, pretending to ignore them as old artifacts from his past life. The most viewed images were his cum shots on women's faces, and he clocked the intense looks of pleasure on her face when he did it to her. She loved submitting to him that way and it was a great help to their energetic sex life. Lovemaking wasn't as frequent as it used to be because their lives were so busy, but the intensity increased because of it.

Yani continued the arousing slow sucking. He watched her glossy plump lips slide back and forth across the top half of his dick. Her fawning eyes stayed locked on his, riling up his body because she made the act of dick sucking look so illicit. So pornographic.

Every now and then she would stop sucking and rubbed her lips back and forth across the mushroom cap creating a delicious tickling. His balls throbbed. She twisted her fingers around the head to give him new sensations, never once breaking eye contact. Yani knew how to chip away his defenses by giving off innocent vibes. She'd stay on her knees looking up at him with her big titties all out, nipples perky and offered to him like delectable appetizers. That look took him back to St. Thomas and the first time he ever touched her. His dick felt heavy between his legs. Thoughts of her back then being a little spitfire towards him ratcheted up his emotions for her in the present. In six days he would wed the most beautiful, cunning, and loving woman he had ever had to call his own. She latched onto him like a ride or die and he never wanted her to be that way ever again. She deserved better…she deserved more from him. His best. No, he would be a ride or die for her. Always.

He palmed her breasts and squeezed them. Lifted them up and down. Thumbing her nipples with wide circles, he listened to her breathy pants of pleasure. She stroked his dick. Yani would soon be the composed queen of a mighty nation in public, but at night, she would always be his nasty little slut…on her knees begging for Daddy dick to be stuffed in all of her orifices. That turned him on as he pushed her tits together. Her eyes were glassy. Lips pouted. She reached down and peeled back the wings of her inner labia giving him peek-a-boo glimpses of her wet pink. She needed his dick and slapped her pussy lips to ignite a wild fire in him.

"Taste mi," she purred.

Yani held up her wet fingers scented with her love and he licked them, opening his mouth wider so she could stuff three digits inside to paint his tongue with the dew. He swallowed her offering and she traced the shape of his lips with her own until the swollen skin on his lips itched for more.

"Killmonger."

Her moist lips pushed out the air to say that name. It ended him. He jumped to his feet and leveled the deep slit of his dick toward her cheek.

"Yani! Fuck! Fuck!"

Hollering out more expletives, a rush of thick hot cum splashed all over the side of her face. It dripped down to her neck in a sticky white deluge. He gulped for air and groaned to the ceiling.

Cumming on her face soothed the raging libido in N'Jadaka long enough for him to gather Yani in his arms and put her back on the bed. She leaned on her side again. Curling around her ass, he lifted her heavy thigh and pushed back inside her pussy.

"…fucking this pussy…."

He groaned and pumped, letting his lust take over, grateful he ejaculated on her face first because he would've broke her back if he hadn't. She took the pounding like a graceful queen, fully aware that he was lost in the pussy, her pleasure forgotten because her loving blotted out all of his senses. He took advantage of his selfishness because once she became queen, their sex life would switch over to ancient protocols that dictated that the queen had to cum first with her pussy being eaten before the king could even put his dick inside of her. Yani looked forward to that, and he plowed into her knowing that he had a week left to be a bedroom bully.

He smacked her ass cheek harder, talked his shit in her ear and knew his dick tugged on her labia long enough. The king pushed her onto her back and mounted her with one purpose: to hear her scream his name in his ear.

"Cum all over this big dick. Show me how much you love me."

Rocking into her, he held onto her bouncing tits and they both watched him pump long strokes into quivering walls. Her mouth fell open and he crushed her with his full weight. Her lips brushed against his ear and he waited to her that old name of his called out.

It didn't take long.

"Killmonger…Killmonger…fuck me…fuck me Killmonger…."

The silky muscular walls of her pussy squeezed around his dick in a constant flow of contractions that only added to his pleasure listening to her cry out for more. The ecstasy of her voice spiraled him out of his soul.

Hunched over her, N'Jadaka pressed his face into her pillow and roared into the cotton. His dick swelled inside of her and the intense throbbing rippled all the way to his anus and down the back of his ankles. He gasped like he was dying, mashing Yani's breasts into his sweaty chest and enjoying the rooted sensation of his balls throbbing and pushing out semen.

"Goddammit," he sputtered into her hair.

His eyes rolled back into watery sockets that blurred his vision. He rolled over and she climbed on top of him, breasts swinging in his face. Yani bounced on his dick and he thrust up to meet her passionate energy. He settled into sucking on her nipples and areola, letting her rock the bed with her own efforts. She gave him nurturing with the fucking, cooing to him and rubbing his locs.

"My man works so hard…you like your queen taking care of the royal dick, Daddy?"

He nodded, groaning at her soft accent and the way her pussy yanked on his dick with perfect timing. She went at his stiffness at the speed and depth that was comfortable for her and he submitted to whatever she wanted to give him. He watched the up and down movements and admired how shiny she made his dick. Her sticky wetness overflowed and made his lap slippery. The sounds of a fat ass smacking on his balls pleased his ears.

Yani leaned forward and her breasts covered his face entirely, smothering him in buttery softness like a fleshy curtain hiding him from the world. Grateful to be hidden inside her warmth, he relaxed into letting go of all of stresses, all of his problems, all of his worries. He let his queen carry him away to physical delights that poured life back into him. That's what she had always been for him. A life giver. A true goddess the way Tahir had called her.

He started hollering and Yani slammed her hand over his mouth. His heels pressed down into the mattress and his toes curled. Yani panted above him, her voice going up an octave as her second release ascended its peak.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming on your dick, Killmonger!"

She whipped her head back and forth. Arching her back, her nails clawed his chest.

"Oh, God….oh god! Killmonger…!"

He grabbed her arms and pressed her against his chest. Thrusting his hips upward, he forced Yani to take all the dick as her pussy contracted and milked every drop of cum he shot into her. Their cries of lust co-mingled into an ancient primordial release.

N'Jadaka's voice became hoarse and Yani cradled his face and kissed him, uniting all of their parts together. Her slow languid kisses centered him once more. He hugged her tight, his face mashed into her breasts, and she rubbed his head. They both could feel his stiff dick still throbbing inside of her.

"Can you take more?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Go to the restroom and come on back," he said.

He smacked her ass cheek and she climbed off of him.

Waiting for her to urinate and put special lubricants on her vulva and inside her vagina, N'Jadaka stretched his body. His dick fell back onto his stomach, the head pulsing and dribbling semen above his belly button.

"Fuck, I miss this shit," he said to himself.

Yani returned and they kissed. He licked a trail down to her pussy and pampered her with plenty of earned licks and kisses. The sweet odor of the lubricant she used to protect her womanly parts excited him. He blew a soft breath on her clit and the lubricant warmed up on her vulva adding more pleasure to their adult play time. The pale lighting of the sky heralded the new morning. Yani came in his mouth with her thighs covering his head.

Before the children arose to greet them, Yani rode his dick reverse cowgirl so he could watch the new weight of her backside gleam from the sunlight. Each time she rose up, he watched how tight her pussy gripped his dick. He kept quiet, swallowing his groans, nearly crying himself looking at how big her ass had gotten. N'Jadaka knew the weight gain wasn't from pregnancy. They had been apart since her last period, but he imagined how she would look with pregnancy weight. He liked her chunky and round like a butterball. Her weight had fluctuated over the last year, but it had settled down in the last two months until she did her book tour.

He watched the massive orbs of jiggly ass cheeks bounce on him. It was insane to have a body like that. But it was all his. Her voluptuous gifts belonged to him.

A new thought floated in his mind.

Part of the royal protocols meant that Yani wouldn't be permitted to take birth control during their wedding and honeymoon. Any child conceived during the first month of marriage to a royal couple was a sign of a prosperous future. The world was missing billions of people. Wakanda needed to repopulate. That meant she couldn't be on the contraceptive shots Wakandans used. She would already be weaned off of it to match the timing of their wedding.

He could get her pregnant right then and there.

Yani arched her back and wiggled her backside. She studied his face over her shoulder as she made love to him in the best way for him to admire her body. His dick seemed to get harder thinking about impregnating her before the wedding.

"Do that shit, Ma. Shake that ass."

Yani giggled and tossed her braids over her one side of her head and continued watching him watch her move.

"Look at all this ass…."

She reached back and lifted her ass cheeks for him, her light pink manicured nails looking lovely splayed out to tease him by digging into the ripeness of that bubble. He smacked her butt hard. They'd been fucking for three hours after the troubling news broadcast. He gripped the sheets admiring the dimpling in her backside. If she grew bigger back there during a new pregnancy, she would probably get stretch marks. Titties would get bigger too. He remembered what they looked like filled with milk and he rubbed his large hands all across both ass cheeks, sinking his fingers into the weight.

Sweat dripped down her body and pooled around the indentations on her lower back. She wound her waist teasing the tip of his dick before sliding back down, clapping her own cheeks for him. The woman knew how to keep him satisfied. He gripped her waist and kept her bounce steady. His balls ached to release. He already knew she was fatigued but kept going because she missed him so much and wanted to show off for him longer.

"Such a good girl, Yani. You took good care of this dick. I can't wait to put some more babies in this pussy."

His loose talk brought a glance back at him. Her pussy squeezed his dick with his baby talk. He laughed.

"You heard me girl. Might get you pregnant right now if you keep playing with me like this…shit. Get down for me…just like that. Arch that back. Yeah baby, givin' me that right triangle action…yeah, there it go…head all the way down…big ass up…"

N'Jadaka wistfully stared at Yani in the doggy position, her head to the side so he could watch her face while he smashed. He held onto her waist and pushed in. They had to hurry or else there'd be a pounding on the door with three sets of feet jumping up and down to get their attention.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Loud. So loud.

Perspiration dropped down from his face onto her spine. His kimoyo beads lit up bright yellow. Okoye was notifying him of incoming reports from Wakanda. He had an hour before the general came to him.

He groaned once Yani hit that spot on his dick with her pussy that felt like lips and tongue suction. The queen had skills that were mindblowing. She started cumming before he did so he rode her wave of pleasure, encouraging her to squirt all over him and fuck up the covers even more with all their fluids on the blanket. He pulled out and palmed her ass, holding the tip of his dick close to her entrance where he shot ribbons of heat all over her labia. Sitting back on his haunches, he admired the way her tight pink opening throbbed and glistened with his cum covering it. She moaned softly at his gentle fingering of the pretty mess he made.

He rubbed her booty and then helped her get under the covers. Kissing her forehead he wasn't surprised to see her drift away quickly from exhaustion. She knew more than anyone it would be some time before they could be like that again until their wedding night. Once back in Wakanda there would be a whirlwind of duties and ceremonial events for their betrothal march.

His dick finally went limp.

He showered and changed into a saffron yellow lounging tunic and slacks. Kora arrived on time to get the children up and ready for breakfast with the rest of the family. He kissed them goodbye and welcomed Okoye and Ayo into the suite.

"Sit," he said.

He poured himself fresh orange juice and nibbled at some breakfast pastries his personal chef sent down from the half cruiser floating invisibly above the hotel roof. Getting comfortable in a side chair, he watched the two Doras on the couch.

Okoye tapped her beads and ten pictures of African men floated above her wrist. She flicked the images above the hotel coffee table and N'Jadaka peered at each one with stern eyes. Each man came from various nations on the continent in service of genocide and predatory exploitation. Okoye tapped each image as she spoke.

"Angola, Congo, Rwanda, Uganda, Sudan, Nigeria, Central African Republic, South Sudan, Somalia, and Ethiopia. Each man neutralized as requested," Okoye said.

She gave him time to inspect the stats on each man's file report before swiping them away and bringing up targets in Eastern and Western Europe.

"Ukraine. Russia. England. France. Germany. Spain. Turkey. Italy. Norway. Sweden," Okoye said.

She went through all twelve countries in South America and ended with combined targets in the U.S. and Canada.

"Any blowback yet? Suspicions?"

Ayo spoke up.

"None kumkani. Each target was studied for months before our War Dogs acted. If there were pre-existing medical conditions, we exacerbated the problem. Others were set up with accidents or placed in precarious positions through threats of exposure. Several committed self-harm when faced with public humiliation," Ayo said.

The women led him through detailed intelligence. Yani eventually woke up and padded past a narrow hall in a long ivory robe to shower and dress. Okoye and Ayo didn't notice her.

"Kumkani, there is one more target," Okoye said.

She tapped her beads and Agent Everett Ross's image popped up along with his ex-wife, C.I.A. Director Valentina Fontaine.

N'Jadaka tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair.

"Since Nick Fury has been gone, Ross is our only reliable plant. I can't take any chances trying to turn anyone around from the inside. None of them can be trusted. Not even the Black ones," he said.

"We are on standby to neutralize them as soon as you give us word," Okoye said.

"I want Ross dead, but not until I've used him up. As long as he thinks he's cool with us, I'll string him along. We can use him to get intel on Fontaine. She's making waves in the intelligence community and they're still somewhat close from what we've gathered so far."

"He wants to meet with you before you leave," Okoye said.

"Nah. I have no desire to talk with him. Just tell him I'm busy with my nuptials and will be unavailable for a month. I'm honeymooning with Yani in Umbono Cove on the houseboat. I don't want to be bothered with anything. Ramonda will oversee everything in my absence. Understood?"

They nodded.

A knock at the entrance door brought them all into guarded attention. Ayo answered. N'Jadaka spotted an Onyx Squad captain standing next to Mpilo.

"Kumkani, sorry to disturb your meeting. I have a private message from the President of the United States," Mpilo said.

N'Jadaka waved the young man over to him. Mpilo handed him a thick beige envelope with the Presidential seal on it. He read the short message inside.

"The President would like a private meeting with me too before we leave," N'Jadaka said.

"Your schedule is under tight security. We would need adequate time to set up additional protective measures inside the White House," Okoye said.

"They don't want to meet at the White House."

"Where then?"

"Camp David."

"The American Department of Defense already has additional surveillance on us since our arrival in this country. Nothing we can't handle if they try something there," Ayo said.

N'Jadaka thrummed his fingers again on the armchair.

"They've set the meeting a day after Yani's television interview."

"Will you go?" Yani interjected from behind them.

Everyone lowered their heads to Yani. She stepped into the living room area dressed in a long cozy pocket dress with vivid colors that reminded him of Black Creek in Wakanda, the place where his parents were entombed. Her hair was elaborately wrapped in a matching headwrap. She took a seat at the small dinette table by the window where their morning meal was set up. Pouring herself fruit juice, she sipped and stared at him. N'Jadaka tossed the invitation on the coffee table.

"I don't want to be bothered," he said.

"I think you should go. At least see what he wants. You won't come here again for awhile and it's time that he gets to see you in an informal place. Maybe you'll catch him off guard without all the eyes here in D.C.," Yani said.

He considered it.

"Leave us," he said.

Mpilo, the Doras , and the Onyx Squad guard removed themselves from the suite. He joined Yani at the table and they fixed themselves plates of food and ate together.

"You really want me to go?" he asked.

Yani stuffed a small Wakandan red berry pastry in her mouth.

"I think President Matthew Ellis needs to see the man that frightens him so much. Think of it as a flex if you want," Yani said.

N'Jadaka grinned.

"And people out here think you're just some sweet faced beauty on my arm," he said. "That means I won't be able to travel back home with you and the kids."

She shrugged and sipped on more juice brought from their new homeland.

"It just means I get to miss you again and we can have another reunion in our bedroom back in Birnin Zana."

He widened his legs and patted his thigh. Yani left her seat and sat on his lap. He rubbed on her booty again and rested his head on her breasts.

"I want to be on a houseboat with you…naked. Making long slow love under the moon and stars."

"We will do that soon enough."

"A whole month, you and me…partially alone."

"Don't remind me. Riki has already complained that they don't get to join us until two weeks into our honeymoon."

"Man, two weeks off with just you and me. Yeah, you definitely getting pregnant Yani."

She slapped his arm.

"Stop putting that out in the universe. We said we'd wait two more years before trying…and trying is the operative word, sir. I'm not taking the man-made contraceptive shots as tradition dictates, but I am taking precautions."

She held up the bluish drink she sipped on.

"This was given to me by Umama. Two glasses a day and it inhibits any eggs from fertilizing. You can shoot up the club and I won't be penalized for forsaking tradition…technically."

"Alright then…practice getting pregnant is good enough for me."

"Aren't three children enough for you already for the time being?"

"Nah. I'm making a whole new tribe with you."

"Easy for you to say, I'm the one who has to carry your big babies."

"I'll be right by your side spoiling you every step of the way. You make pretty babies, Yani, and my family's genes are strong. They all gonna look like me."

He kissed her neck and let his full lips linger there.

"Tell me you love me, Yani."

She cupped his chin and raised it.

"I love you."

"Say it again."

He nuzzled against her breasts and she stroked his lengthy locs.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," she said above his head.

Closing his eyes, N'Jadaka listened to Yani's heartbeat and rested in her bosom of peace.

Chapter 2 HERE.

Tag List:

@readingaddict1290

@issimplyaamazinggg

@eyeknowmywrites

@kitesatforestp

@fd-writes

@soufcakmistress  

@cherrystainedlipsbaby

@tclaybon  

@thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel

@bartierbakarimobisson

@cpwtwot

@shookmcgookqueen

@yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78

@the-illlestt

@terrablaze514  

@l-auteuse

@amirra88

@jimizwidow

@janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy  

@sweetestdream92  

@purple-apricots

@blackpinup22  

@hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@bugngiz

@stariamrry  

@honeytoffee

@meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

@eye-raq  

@writerbee-ffs  

@chocolatedream30  

@childishgambinaa  

@mygirlrenee

@thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

@lahuttor

@goodieyaya

@post-woke

@soufcakmistress

@yomiloo

@goddessofthundathighs

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@retroxvailles

@cydneyrenee4

@nizzle-mo

@cecereads209

@childishgambinaax

@gopaperless

@bombshellbre95

@tchallasbabymama

@musicisme333

@sister-winter73

@nccu-rnc

@sj206260358

@blmcd57110

@griot-of-wakanda

[longlistshort]

Laura Wheeler Waring, “Girl with Pomegranate”, ca. 1940, oil on canvas

Winold Reiss, “Langston Hughes”, 1925, Pastel on illustration board

Winold Reiss, “Alain Leroy Locke”, 1925, Pastel on illustration board

The Harlem Renaissance and Transatlantic Modernism at The Metropolitan Museum of Art showcases some of the outstanding work created during this time period. The exhibition also provides some background on the artists, their peers in the art world, and their community.

From the museum-

The Harlem Renaissance emerged in the 1920s as one of the era’s most vibrant modes of artistic expression. The first African American-led movement of international modern art, it evolved over the next two decades into a transformative moment during which Black artists developed radically new modes of self-expression. They portrayed all aspects of the modern city life that took shape during the early decades of the Great Migration, when millions of African Americans left the segregated rural South in search of freedom and opportunity in Harlem and other expanding Black communities nationwide.

This exhibition explores how artists associated with the “New Negro” movement-as the Harlem Renaissance was originally known, after influential writings by the philosopher Alain Locke and others-visualized the modern Black subject. It reveals the extensive connections between these artists and the period’s preeminent writers, performers, and civic leaders. At the same time, it reconstructs cross-cultural affinities and exchanges among the New Negro artists and their modernist peers in Europe and across the Atlantic world, often established during international travel and expatriation.

This complex, multilayered story unfolds through portraits, scenes of city life, and powerful evocations of Black history and cultural philosophy. Highlights include seldom-seen works from historically Black colleges and universities and culturally specific collections. Across its broad sweep, opening with founding ideas and concluding with activist imagery made on the cusp of the civil rights era, it establishes the critical role of the Harlem Renaissance in the history of art as well as the period’s enduring cultural legacy.

Horace Pippin, “Self Portrait”, 1944, Oil on canvas, adhered to cardboard; and “The Artist’s Wife”, 1936, Oil on linen

The caption for the above paintings reads-

Contemporary artist Kerry James Marshall has described Pippin’s self-portrait as a “monumental statement of self-confidence.” In this small painting, tightly cropped at bust length, Pippin gazes confidently at the viewer, his firmly drawn likeness reflecting a well-disciplined hand. Pippin portrayed his wife, Jennie Ora Fetherstone Wade Giles, at three times the scale of his own image, but he unified the two paintings by using a similar palette. Jennie’s blue dress is echoed in the background of his portrait, while the background of her portrait is picked up in the artist’s tie and button-down shirt.

The portraits in the exhibition are not the only standouts. Below are a few more selections.

Suzanna Ogunjami, “Full Blown Magnolia”, 1935, oil on burlap

William H. Johnson, “Flowers”, 1939-40, oil on plywood

Aaron Douglas, “The Creation”, 1935, and "Aspiration", 1936,Oil on masonite

From the museum about artist Aaron Douglas–

A core objective of the Harlem Renaissance was to portray the history and cultural philosophy that gave shape to a specifically African American identity and worldview. The artist Aaron Douglas, whose monumental murals earned him acclaim as the period’s foremost history painter, was also respected for his masterful use of biblical allegory to convey aspirations for freedom, equality, and opportunity.

Douglas first developed his signature silhouette figural compositions-derived in part from Cubism, Egyptian tomb reliefs, and American popular culture-for book and magazine cover illustrations in the late 1920s. He later elaborated this distinctive style in large-scale works for public projects and institutional commissions nationwide as well as at Fisk University in Nashville, where he established the art department and taught for thirty-eight years. Both Douglas and the sculptor Augusta Savage, founder of a Harlem community art school, created art inspired by the work of the author and composer James Weldon Johnson.

Laura Wheeler Waring, “Mother and Daughter”, 1927, Oil on canvas board

About Laura Wheeler Waring’s painting Mother and Daughter from the museum-

Mother and Daughter is perhaps the most direct engagement by a prominent Black artist of this era with the controversial topic of racially mixed families; its very existence was a disruption of the silence on the subject within certain segments of society. Waring experimented with some of the modernist pictorial devices favored by Alain Locke in her portrayal of a Black mother and her white-presenting daughter, rendering them not as specific individuals but as generic types emblematic of the omnipresence of racially mixed families. Flattening their near-identical facial features in profile, Waring established the true subject of the painting via the title and through the work’s most prominent element: the divergent skin tones that point to the subjects’ radically different paths through a social life defined by color lines.

Beauford Delaney, “Dark Rapture (James Baldwin)”, 1941, Oil on masonite

Finally, this portrait of James Baldwin by Beauford Delaney was also a highlight.

From the museum about the work-

Delaney met the writer and civil rights activist James Baldwin in 1940. Finding common ground on multiple fronts-intellectual, social, and artistic-the two gay men began a friendship that would last thirty-eight years. Dark Rapture, the first of Delaney’s several portrayals of Baldwin, presents the author in a thickly painted, expressive tonal study of reds, browns, and blues against a brightly hued landscape. Both introspective and joyous, Dark Rapture stands as a visual manifestation of queer camaraderie, identity, and the search for belonging in the modern world.

This exhibition closes 7/28/24.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Rio funk: The stigmatized dance that reigns in Brazil’s favelas finally enters the museum

The Rio Art Museum has dedicated this season’s grand exhibition to telling the story of the rhythm born in the city’s marginal neighborhoods, which combines African-American soul music and Indigenous elements

In the middle of an afternoon on a weekday, seeing such a long line to enter a museum in Brazil is quite striking. Even more extraordinary is that a good part of those waiting to buy tickets are under the age of 30.

The exhibition, Funk: A Cry of Boldness and Freedom, has been a huge success since it opened three weeks ago at the Rio Art Museum (MAR). Through 900 works and objects, it reviews the history of this rhythm — Rio funk — which was born in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro. The exhibition explores the relationship between the American soul music of James Brown and the demands of the Afro-Brazilian movement in the 1970s.

Rio funk — often mistakenly considered to be the preferred music of gangsters — has been triumphing for years in the peripheries of Brazil. Little by little, it’s finally acquiring the status of a respectable cultural expression, a path that samba already followed decades ago.

In the two rooms of the MAR that are hosting the exhibition, which runs until August 2024, the sound is thunderous. Visitors who have never been to one of these massive dances — which are held outdoors at dawn under plastic tarps in peripheral Brazilian neighborhoods — feel as if they’re standing next to a wall erected with speakers, which hammer out the funk. This is the same rhythm that catapulted Anitta, the great diva of Brazilian music, to international fame.

Continue reading.

[deeptrashwitch]

*During a insomia night, inside Witch's mind*

So, who are you again?

A fictional girl

Yeah well, it doesn't help me to understand

Start writing and you'll figure it out

...I need to sleep, I'll lead with you tomorrow

*ends up writing (and even doing the picrew) at midnight to at least keep the idea out of her mind for a while*

Yeah...the thing below just appeared while I was trying to sleep, and now I'm writing about her. It's a new OC, and she'll be Ghost's civilian girlfriend. And no, she has nothing to do with my main timeline, so there won't be anything related to her on my post about the Specters.

I'll leave this programed and then go to sleep. See ya!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

OC: Samantha "Sam" Cohen

Nationality: American

Age: 34

Date of birth: 15th january 1990 - Richmond (U.S.A.)

Residence: Washington D.C

Profession: Marketing director

Height: 1.72 m/ 5"7' ft

Weight: 70 kg

Blood type: A+

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationships

Simon "Ghost" Riley (boyfriend)

Mike Cohen (older brother)

Lily Cohen nee Dupont (sister-in-law)

Valerie Cohen (niece)

William Cohen (nephew)

David Cooper (friend)

Irene Sayre (friend)

Jayden/Cassandra Fisher (friend

Trivia

-Her main hobby is make flower arrangements, using many type of flowers. Sometimes Simon helps her, and he even has learned how to do some crowns.

-She loves cuddles and always hugs Simon when they are on their bed, she even plays with his hair when they are looking a movie. And she's the only one who'll ever see Simon all lovey-dovey and clingy, so anytime people says he's cold, scary or things like that, she cackles internally.

-When they visit her brother, she always plays with her nephew and niece while the rest talk calmly.

-She's the second oldest on the group, only Cassandra/Jayden is older than her. Irene and David always mock them because of it, but they love the little brats anyway.

-She tends to be explosive, it can be when she's excited or pissed off. Her reactions are usually effusive (read as: laughter when she's happy and ugly cry shen she's sad), except when she's furious (if she ignores you, then you really fucked it up).

Random quote

"Are you saying that Ghost is scary and cruel? That Ghost? If...you say so, I guess" -talking with a random rookie (who got punished later by said Lieutenant)

When and how met their partner?

She met Simon through a dates app, to be honest she was intrigued because his profile just said basic things (no likes, hobbies and what not) and his photo was him with the baclava. They went to the African Art National Museum and walked for a while in silence, until, when they saw an object from the expo, Ghost commented a non-classified anecdote about a mission in Africa where he learned a bit about their ancient cultures. It called Sam's attention, and they started a conversation, more like Sam asked many things and Ghost answered.

Also, she wasn't exactly stingy with the compliments, admired to find out thar her date knew such interest things. Then she found out about Simon's shyness when it comes to compliments outside of work, because he was blushed and a bit nervous down the mask he was using (he'll deny it all his life, tho). And when the date finished, she was the one to ask him for a second date the next time he had a free day, to which he happily agreed.

And from there, it's history as well.

[blackhistorychatgpt]

Black Astronauts

Yesterday I was at the Natural History Museum with my ten year old daughter and we saw the Space movie - - for the umpteenth time. It never gets old. So I was inspired to highlight black astronauts and black people in space.

From Perplexity:

Here are some famous black astronauts:

Robert H. Lawrence Jr.

He was the first Black astronaut selected for a space program in June 1967. Tragically, he lost his life in an aircraft accident later that year[2].

Guion S. Bluford Jr.

In 1983, Bluford became the first African-American to travel to space, aboard the Challenger space shuttle. He later flew three additional shuttle missions[1].

Mae C. Jemison

She became the first Black woman to travel to space in 1992, aboard the space shuttle Endeavour[5].

Frederick D. Gregory

He became the first Black astronaut to pilot a space shuttle and later flew as the first Black commander of a space shuttle[2].

Ronald E. McNair

He was the second African American to fly in space and tragically lost his life in the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster in 1986[5].

These astronauts have made significant contributions to space exploration and have inspired future generations with their achievements.

Citations: [1] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/16/us/african-american-astronauts.html [2] https://www.nasa.gov/history/honoring-black-astronauts-during-black-history-month-2023/ [3] https://www.nasa.gov/history/honoring-african-americans-in-space/ [4] https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/stories/african-american-achievement-nasa [5] https://themarsgeneration.org/10-black-americans-who-made-extraordinary-contributions-to-space-exploration/

From Gemini:

America's Black Astronauts: Pioneering the Skies and Breaking Barriers

In the annals of African American history, the achievements of Black astronauts shine brightly. Overcoming societal barriers and racial prejudice, these individuals soared into the vast unknown, inspiring generations and proving that the pursuit of scientific exploration transcends earthly limitations. Let's celebrate some of America's most famous Black astronauts and their remarkable journeys:

Guion Bluford: In 1983, aboard the Space Shuttle Challenger, Bluford became the first Black American in space. A fighter pilot and engineer, he logged four spaceflights, conducting scientific experiments and advocating for STEM education.

Ronald McNair: A physicist and astronaut, McNair followed Bluford into space in 1984. He perished tragically in the Challenger disaster of 1986, leaving behind a legacy of scientific contributions and dedication to education.

Frederick Gregory: Pilot and astronaut Gregory made history in 1985 as the first Black American to command a Space Shuttle mission. He flew on multiple missions and advocated for diversity in the STEM fields.

Charles Bolden: An accomplished pilot and Marine Corps Major General, Bolden became the first Black astronaut to lead NASA in 2009. He served eight years, overseeing historic missions like the final Space Shuttle flights and the launch of the Orion spacecraft.

Bernard Harris: Physician and astronaut Harris holds the record for most spacewalks by a Black American, logging seven missions throughout his career. He conducted crucial medical research and served as Chief of the Astronaut Office.

Stephanie Wilson: An engineer and astronaut, Wilson became the first Black woman to command the International Space Station in 2010. She flew on three Space Shuttle missions and remains a strong advocate for science education and diversity in STEM.

Joan Higginbotham: An engineer and astronaut, Higginbotham served as a mission specialist on two Space Shuttle missions, conducting scientific experiments and demonstrating the power of women and minorities in space exploration.

Victor Glover: A pilot and astronaut, Glover made history in 2020 as the first Black person to pilot a SpaceX Crew Dragon. He commanded an International Space Station mission and continues to inspire future generations.

Further Reading:

For Middle School Students:

Reaching for the Stars: The Inspiring Story of Mae Jemison, the First African American Woman in Space by Catherine Coleman

Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly

Astronaut Annie by Jan Astronaut

Whoosh! Blast Off to the Moon by Paul Shifrin

Rocket Men: The Daring Pilots Who Took Us to the Moon by Robert Kurson

For High School Students:

Light Years: The Legacy of America's First Black Astronauts by Colin Stuart

Black Wings: The American Dream of Flight by Cheryl A. Hill

Carrying the Dream: The Story of the Tuskegee Airmen by Margot Lee Shetterly

An Astronaut's Guide to Earth by Thomas Pesquet

Packing for Mars: The Curious Science Behind Colonizing a New Planet by Mary Roach

These are just a few examples, and countless other books and resources chronicle the remarkable stories of Black astronauts. By learning about their journeys, we gain a deeper understanding of the struggles and triumphs of Black Americans in science and technology, reminding us that the pursuit of knowledge and exploration knows no bounds.

[hangelbel]

Exploring Manhattan: The Heart of New York City

Manhattan, the vibrant heart of New York City, is a place where history, art, culture, and commerce converge. With its iconic skyline, diverse neighborhoods, and endless entertainment options, Manhattan offers an experience like no other. Whether you’re visiting for the first time or rediscovering the city as a local, here’s everything you need to know about exploring Manhattan.

1. Iconic Landmarks

No visit to Manhattan is complete without exploring its famous landmarks. The Statue of Liberty stands proudly in New York Harbor, symbolizing freedom and hope. Nearby, Ellis Island shares the stories of millions of immigrants who helped shape the city’s history. Another must-see is the Empire State Building, offering breathtaking panoramic views of the skyline from its observation deck.

Other landmarks include Times Square, known as "The Crossroads of the World," where bright lights and billboards dazzle visitors day and night. Central Park, an oasis in the city's midst, provides a natural escape with walking trails, ponds, and beautiful scenery. For art lovers, the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) and the Metropolitan Museum of Art are must-visit destinations.

2. Diverse Neighborhoods

Each neighborhood in Manhattan has a unique personality, offering something for everyone. SoHo, known for its cobblestone streets and trendy boutiques, is a haven for art enthusiasts and fashionistas. The Lower East Side showcases the city’s immigrant history with vibrant eateries and cultural sites. For a taste of luxury, visit the Upper East Side, home to upscale shops, fine dining, and classic brownstones.

Head to Greenwich Village for a bohemian vibe with live music venues, quirky coffee shops, and the birthplace of the Beat movement. Meanwhile, Harlem offers rich African American culture, from soul food to jazz clubs and historic churches. Chinatown and Little Italy are other highlights, each offering unique flavors, cultural landmarks, and annual festivals.

3. Entertainment and Nightlife

Manhattan is famous for its Broadway district, where world-class musicals and plays entertain millions. Be sure to catch a show in one of the historic theaters, or, for a unique experience, see an off-Broadway production. The nightlife scene is also thriving, with rooftop bars offering stunning skyline views, jazz clubs in the West Village, and dance clubs in Chelsea.

If you prefer a more relaxed evening, consider a dinner cruise along the Hudson River. You’ll enjoy beautiful views of Manhattan’s illuminated skyline, including landmarks like the One World Trade Center, Chrysler Building, and Brooklyn Bridge.

4. Foodie’s Paradise

Manhattan is a culinary haven, offering everything from food trucks to Michelin-starred restaurants. For street food, try a New York-style hot dog, a classic slice of pizza, or a bagel with lox and cream cheese. Food halls like Chelsea Market and the Essex Market offer international cuisine, artisanal groceries, and unique dining experiences.

If you’re in the mood for fine dining, Manhattan boasts some of the world’s best restaurants. Jean-Georges, Eleven Madison Park, and Nobu offer exceptional experiences for food lovers. And don’t forget the borough's dessert scene: Magnolia Bakery’s cupcakes and Levain Bakery’s cookies are must-tries.

5. Shopping Extravaganza

For shopping, Fifth Avenue is a dream destination, offering high-end brands like Gucci, Prada, and Louis Vuitton. For unique finds, head to the markets in Hell’s Kitchen or the boutiques in NoLIta. And if you’re looking for budget-friendly options, the Garment District has plenty of sample sales and outlet stores.

Manhattan truly has it all—from world-renowned landmarks and diverse neighborhoods to mouth-watering cuisine and unparalleled entertainment. Whether you’re strolling through Central Park, dining in Little Italy, or exploring the art galleries in Chelsea, Manhattan will capture your heart and inspire memories that last a lifetime.

[lboogie1906]

Dr. Aida Cartagena (June 18, 1918 - June 3, 1994) was a prominent Afro-Latina poet, novelist, scholar, and public intellectual. She was born in Moca, Dominican Republic to Olimpia Portalatin and Felipe Cartagena Estrella. She never married or had any children. She was a major proponent of the Negritude Movement in the Spanish-speaking world. The Negritude Movement was an anti-colonial cultural and political struggle founded by African and Caribbean students in Paris. It sought to reclaim the inherent value of Blackness and African culture.

She was an early member of La Poesia Sorprendida an internationally well-known avant-garde literary journal. Based in the Dominican Republic, the journal published short stories, essays, and artwork from throughout but not exclusively, Latin America. The journal survived four years, it was exceptional in being allowed to operate under the oppressive dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. La Poesia Sorprendida published her works and gave her exposure as a writer to the international community.

The life, education, and emphasis on a public career that we see in Aida’s example were unusual for her time and place. She attended the Universidad Autonoma de Santo Domingo, where she earned a Ph.D. in the humanities, and she attended the Ecole du Louve in Paris for postgraduate studies with an emphasis on museology and the fine arts. In perhaps her most renowned novel, Escalera para Electra, the emphasis on the universal intertwined with the local shines throughout the book.

The extensive travel she experienced in life shaped her mind and soul in numerous ways. She moved in cosmopolitan circles and counted some of the most famous Latin American intellectuals and writers of the twentieth century as her friends. She credited travel and her relationships, more than books, as the key to her education and development as a writer. She served as a representative for the Dominican Republic at UNESCO, she worked as a professor of art history and archaeology at AUSD, and she was the director of the anthropology museum. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[alleannaharris]

Today's Black History Month illustration is of Henry Ossawa Tanner (1859-1937), the first Black painter to gain international acclaim for his depiction of landscapes and biblical themes.

Tanner was born in 1859 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He was the first of nine children born to Sarah Elizabeth Miller, a formerly enslaved woman who escaped her enslavers via the Underground Railroad, and Benjamin Tucker Tanner, an African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Bishop.

His middle name comes from the town Osawatomie, Kansas, where the abolitionist John Brown started his anti-slavery campaign.

When Tanner was young, the Tanner family moved to Philadelphia. While in Philly, he attended the Robert Vaux School, one of the few Black schools that offered a liberal arts education. Despite his father objecting, Tanner decided he wanted to become a painter when he was 13. He began his art career in 1876 by painting harbour scenes, landscapes, and animals from the Philadelphia Zoo.

After self-study, in 1880, he enrolled at Philadelphia’s prestigious Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) where he was the only black student. Tanner made many connections among the artists and became a favorite of his teacher Thomas Eakins, one of the most important artists in American art history.

In 1888, Tanner secured a teaching position at Clark University in Atlanta with the help of Joseph C. Hartzell, a bishop from Cincinnati, Ohio. In 1890, Hartzell arranged an exhibition of Tanner’s works in Cincinnati, but when none of the paintings sold, Hartzell purchased Tanner’s entire collection.

The money from Hartzell’s purchase allowed Tanner to travel to Paris in 1891 and enroll at the Academy Julian. During this time, he made Paris home because he felt less affected by prejudice.

His greatest early work depicted Black people and tender moments. His most famous painting, “The Banjo Lesson” where an older man was teaching a young boy how to play the banjo was created while visiting family in Philly in 1893.

By 1894, his paintings were critically admired in the US and in Europe. In 1899, he created one of his most famous works, “Nicodemus Visiting Jesus,” which won PAFA’s Lippincott Prize in 1900. Through the rest of his life, he shifted focus to religious scenes and continued to receive praise and honors for his work.

He was named honorary chevalier of the Order of Legion Honor (France’s most distinguished award) in 1923. In 1927, Tanner was made a full academician of the National Academy of design, becoming the first Black person to receive the distinction.

After Tanner’s death in Paris in 1937, his name recognition declined until 1969 when the Smithsonian in Washington DC exhibited a few of his works. This exhibition was the first major solo exhibition of a Black artist in the United States.

In 1991, the Philadelphia Museum of Art assembled a touring exhibition of his work, sparking a new wave of interest.

Side note: The Tanner House is on 2908 W Diamond St in North Philadelphia (Strawberry Mansion). It gained recognition as a National Historic Landmark in 1976, but it fell into disrepair. They’re still trying to find a long-term non-profit steward, but the temporary local fiduciary is the Preservation Alliance for Greater Philadelphia. To donate to the Tanner House Campaign, reach out to the Preservation Alliance.

I’ll be back on Monday with another illustration and story!