#blackgirlnotes

[blackgirlnotes]

Thoughts on Spring & A New Series 💌🌸💭

🌸 Spring is the season of life and rebirth. The world is being reawakened as Persephone returns to her mother. Students are finishing school for the term, flower shops and farmer's markets are opening, and overall, there's an excited buzz in the air.

🌸 Spring is also the season of love, despite commercial belief. Victor Hugo writes, "If people did not love one another, I really don't see what the use there would be in having any spring." He's right—spring is the season for budding relationships, making amends with people, and starting anew. 

💭 As a black, queer femme in America, spring has always felt like a precursor to my official return from hibernation. The time needed to perfect my summer wardrobe and to find the lotion-oil-perfume combination that will last me all day and leave me enticing and moisturized for hours. As a writer, spring is the season in which I am most inspired by the world around me. I begin to write love letters to the Earth and to the mundane, which leads me to a very special project I've been planning. 

 

Black Girl Notes presents "Love Letters: All the Things We Wish to Say." From April 29th through May 31st, I will be hosting a series that seeks to promote healthy, effective communication with the underlying goal of healing ourselves and building interpersonal community. The first installment of the "Love Letters" series is "Love Letters: To Our Dearly Departed."

 

While spring is the season of renaissance, it is not absolved from death. In my short twenty-four years, I have experienced death more during springtime than any other season. Using my experience as a basis, I think as we begin to transition from spring to summer, we should help heal the traumas of losing those who may have transitioned from life far too soon.

 

💌 "Love Letters" will begin with an opportunity to share an anonymous letter with your dearly departed loved ones. A link to a form to write anything you wish to say to someone you may have lost will be posted here on this blog, as well as on my Substack under the Black Girl Notes tab and on my Instagram (@terizahh, @shop.nellmaria, and @theeriscompany). If you choose to write a letter to a loved one, you will be given the option of receiving a response from me. I am not a licensed therapist, and I simply want to help ease pain and build community. 

 

When I was young and grieving the loss of my adoptive mother and eventually my biological mother, I found solace in online communities. My responses will simply be an expression of understanding and sharing that I will always be there for those who may need a shoulder to cry on.

 

💭 The form for submitting a letter to a loved one will remain open until May 3rd. On May 3rd, I will be sharing a post about Death and the Black Community, which will be available to read in full on Substack. Each week, a new "Love Letters" topic will be shared with the opportunity to leave a letter to those who you wish to be able to speak to.

 

Finally, at the end of the series, we will have a celebration of love in all its forms, from families to friends to relationships to finding ourselves. There will be Substack exclusive interviews with some amazing people throughout this series whose stories will hopefully inspire and encourage you.

 

I look forward to writing and reading your love letters 💌💭.

 

- Nellmaria

[edward-tc]

@blackgirlnotes

This tweet says it all… translation below.

(Repost because I wanted to make it into it’s own post instead of a reblog)

Banning the abaya is not a back-to-school "diversion". It is part of a plan.

Islamophobia is not an epiphenomenon. It is at the heart of a political project.

Racism is not an accident. It's a system.

There are absolutely no surprises in France.

The only "surprise" is that leftists and observers are still surprised by the repeated attacks against Black people, Arabs and Muslims in France.

No "red line has been crossed".

It's been going on like this for decades. It's just that depending on the mood or the privileges it touches, an opportunity arises where you "find out" what your fellow citizens are going through every day. It's there, too obvious for you to ignore, so you give it a tweet, an indignation, a passing concern. Then it goes back in the back of your mind filled with stuff that you don't live, while waiting for the next buzz that will occupy you.

The racist, sequenced, destructive and methodical harassment that targets Muslims in France varies only in its seasonality and its modalities of expression, but it is constant in its objectives as in its structures:

Muslim women are targeted in summer for the burkini, at the start of the school year for long dresses, on sports grounds because they want to play, all the rest of the year for their headscarves or their simple existence in public spaces. .

Muslim children are targeted at school for their beliefs, in the playground for their children's games (1), in the canteen for their "bismiLlah" and their diet.

Muslim men are targeted in their expression, treated as a security risk, criminalized in the public space.

Muslim associations and executives are targeted in their organizational methods, subject to political and ideological control by the prefectures.

And it just gets annoying to have to remind you of this with every controversy targeting Muslims, about twice a month.

The truth is simple:

France is filled by endemic Islamophobia. Racism is structural here. Antisemitism is structural here. Antiblack racism is structural here. The criminalization of migrants is structural here. Police violence is structural here.

And only racists deny racism.

Only those who don't experience it think it's a subject up to debate.

The "attacks on secularism" are as much shame on the French flag as the abusive reports that compose them, from the simple innocuous religious expression to the clothes police that are set up against young Muslim girls, as they are targeted with racial profiling to distinguish, by "use/purpose (2)" (the level of creative hypocrisy of racists) between the proselytizing use of a Zara dress (for Arabs and Blacks) and the admissible Republican use (for the others), while the handful of truly believable incidents are resolved with a simple warning and explanation.

The only attack on secularism is the establishment of a system of registration, denunciation and surveillance of Muslim students on a large scale. This is the count of students absent for Eid (3). It is the progressive decline of an educational institution which, since 2004, has gone from one moral panic to the next, with the same targets and the same results: the deterioration of teaching conditions and the systemic, slow and methodical stigmatization of some of the students. It is the silence that has become the choice of the majority of teachers and unions when their mission of inclusion and benevolent education of all children is ridiculed, that’s when they do not add their voice to the chorus of calls for the exclusion of students, calling for "clear rules" that invariably result in penalties and bans. It is the constant civilizing and post-colonial injunction to be free only according to modalities chosen by others than ourselves.

To people who still care about the fundamental freedoms of everyone (and in particular the young women targeted here for their clothing choices), I say: you are losing more than a battle, not to fight with all your might a fight which is already engaged, is tipping France into an authoritarian, racist and totally assumed oppressive posture.

To those Muslim men and women who minimize what is happening or blame young girls for their treatment, I say: you deserve what is happening to you. If you are humiliated in this way, it is because you allow it. To them their honor and to you your shame. They only wanted to study, without asking for the slightest preferential treatment or exceptional regime, while you found all the reasons in the world to defend their oppressors, out of unconsciousness if not out of cowardice. Those who already accepted the exclusion of young girls in 2004, those who looked elsewhere when imams were criminalized, those who believed in the promise of a state sanctioned Islam that would leave them safe if they remained docile to the exclusion of their brothers, those who allowed the associations which defended them to be dissolved and the mosques which welcomed them to be closed. If not out of modesty, at least for your own salvation, be silent and do not add your voice to those who make our children enemies of a republic which, rather than respecting them for what they do, chose to exclude them for who they are.

To my sisters, in skirts, dresses, jeans, sweatshirts or abayas, I want to (re)tell how proud we are of you. I don't know how to express the hope and sincere admiration I have for you when, in a toxic period like the one we are going through, I see the good you are doing, the projects you are planning, the enthusiasm and commitment that you display, in class, at home, on the soccer field or in associations, to respond to offenses with dignified words and smiles, to hold firm when we give up, to give us comfort in a world upside down, to pay the price for what is going wrong in our society and which should nevertheless concern us all. Rock in everything you do. Do not let yourself be locked into the image that some want to give of you, because you are not defined by any other voice than yours and by any other choice than yours. Please hold on tight. Be happy, make your plans and let others talk.

Maybe what angers them so much is to see you shine...

Notes:

1: Children love to see lay pretend and imitate adults. Some Muslim children (all below 10) pretended to pray at school. Some white kids eventually joined and instead of explaining to the kids to not play that way the teachers made a report. It ended on national news, they started acting as if it was super common and as if kids were forcing their non Muslim classmate to convert to Islam. It was a mess. To the point where the parents of the Muslim kids were so scared they pulled out their kids of all activities outside of schools… Some of the white parents actually had to get involved to ask people to calm the fuck down that it was just kids playing pretend. The end of the year school party was even canceled so no child would get attacked…

2: Teachers and schools were reporting and expelling Black and Arab girls for wearing long skirt or headbands. Those are obviously not religious clothes. People rightfully complained and said that it was racial profiling. Instead of telling schools and teachers to calm down the government changed the 2004 in 2022. Now clothes can become religious “par destination” so by purpose or use. Basically it means that depending on who (white or people of color) wears them clothes can become religious. If a white girl wears headbands very often that’s okay if a Black or North African girl does it then her headband is a symbolic hijab and she must remove it.

3: In the south west of France and in other regions the police asked schools to provide a list of all the children who did not come at school on Eid. For the record children are ALLOWED to miss school for religious holidays.

[blackgirlnotes]

All the Words Left Unspoken

If you're ready to share your heart with someone you can no longer reach, now's the time.

The submission form for Love Letters: To Our Dearly Departed is live and ready for you to write your heart out! Click here to write a letter to someone you wish you could still speak with, whether they be deceased or estranged. Also, please ensure you’re following this blog on Tumblr to see exclusive information and posts regarding this project!

I wanted to take the time to share a bit of my inspiration for this project. One day late last year, I was planning out my content calendar and what I wanted to do to help revive my blogs and social media. As I reached April, I had the sudden idea to discuss grief. In 2006, I lost my mother to pancreatic cancer on April 19th. I was six years old and unable to understand the severity of losing someone so necessary like a mother. As I grew up, I became plagued with back-dated grief and I fell into a deep depression.

At age twenty-four, over eighteen years later, I am still battling complex post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, and depression. I write as a way to fill the void the imbalanced chemicals leave in my heart and mind, so the idea to write out how I’ve felt was not a difficult one to come by. When I thought about grief and how I wanted to write about it, I was reminded of a book by St. Clair Detrick-Jules titled My Beautiful Black Hair, which features over 100 authentic stories of Black women sharing their love and journey with their hair. The book was inspired by self-depreciating statements made by Detrick-Jules’ sister as a tool to help her learn to love the features she was born with. I picked up on the idea of writing out one’s struggle with a certain thing and sharing it in hopes of connecting with someone and aiding them on their path of healing.

It was easy for that idea to transform from just “writing out my feelings” to writing a letter, and from there Love Letters was born. I know there are many projects and books that carry this same concept, so I will not claim originality, but what I will do is claim authenticity. My goal with this series isn��t just to boost activity and my brand, because I genuinely no longer care about that. My goal is to create genuine connection. We live in a time where everything is at our fingertips, and yet for some reason true interpersonal human connection is difficult to create and maintain. I want society to work as a community again and yo remember the roots of culture. With Love Letters, I want to scratch an itch that I feel has been lacking in my own communities as well as the global community. We are all connected, whether you believe so or not. What happens to you in Baltimore affects me in Tulsa and what happens to me here affects someone in Palestine. Our actions create rifts and the one comfort we should be able to have is each other.

Whether you choose to write a letter during these next few weeks or if you simply read the letters shared, I hope you are able to reconcile with these unresolved emotions.

[blackgirlnotes]

Happy Juneteenth, Loves💖

-nellmaria

(images taken from Juneteenth.com)

[blackgirlnotes]

Faux Activism and Exclusionary Practices.

Before I even begin this week's text post, I have to make it abundantly clear: All Black Lives must matter to you if you are going to be an "activist" or a social justice warrior. That said, let's have a conversation about what and why this new wave of activism in the black community is not inclusive nor real.

1. OUTRAGE

The outrage over the unnecessary killings and highly preventable deaths of black men and women is one hundred percent real and warranted. However, as I have noticed in my personal social media timelines, many people are unknowingly (or purposefully) excluding the names of trans people and non-binary people. This is abhorrent and frankly disgusting. Black people exist in every facet of life: from being a cis-woman who has a loving husband to being a trans man who lives with his life gay, cis-partner. Every version of the black experience is valid and worthy of protection and acceptance. Women and LGBTQIA+ folx have a hard time already existing in a straight, white, male dominated world. Imagine tacking on the fact that they are black. Now they experience two to three different forms of discrimination for things they didn't decide nor have the ability to change. If you are outraged at the injustices inflicted upon our people for generations, then you MUST also include your gender non-conforming friends and their experiences as well. Do not practice and exclusionary version of "Black Lives Matter." At that point, you are a hypocrite and liar because you, yourself do not see the value in the non-traditional (for lack of a better term) black life.

2. SILENCE

For the first week of protests and surge of political dismantling, we saw the names of nearly every black man who had died as a result of unjust policing and a corrupt government. Rarely did we see popular activists or celebrities mention the names of Breonna Taylor, Sandra Bland, or Atatiana Jefferson. Rarely did we see the same outpour of grief and support for the women also impacted by the world we live in. Never, in that first week, did I see a video or post about how to help locate the thousands of lost black girls snatched from inner cities. Last time I checked, the human mind is capable of focusing on more than one tragedy at a time. To not share the same loudness when it comes to the plight of the black woman is to be silent. As we have learned over the last few weeks: silence is deafening. It doesn't surprise me that our people don't make nearly as much noise behind the oppression and destruction of the black woman. This is the same community that had a generation raises young girls to "dress appropriately when there are men in the house," you know...the house the men are VISITING and you are STAYING in. The same group of people who deem black women ghetto for having multiple partners and children from said partners but praises men because "it must be so hard taking care of all those kids...as a man." The same delegation of humans who will bash a darkskin woman in order to praise a lightskin or non-black woman. Let me digress. The treatment of black women is so ingrained in to our psyche that we, as women, catch ourselves subconsciously giving in to these misogynistic practices. When my step mother tells me I should cover up because I live in a house with men, when my job tells me the uncomfortable advances from male customers is normal and I should just ignore it, or when the first lady of my church deems my knee length skirt too short simply because the old, perverted men in the sanctuary can't stop staring. It is done from a place of "protection" in their eyes but it stems from something deeper. To destroy the black woman is to destroy the black man, essentially. Every black man comes from a black woman. Before you try arguing in terms of "mixed kids with white mothers," learn basic genetics: the mixed boy with a black dad and white mom has a black grandma. His father's mother, and her mother and so forth, are all black. Do not be silent when Black women are oppressed, slain and abused. Be as loud as you are when George and Trayvon were taken from us. Be as loud as you are when your sport's team loses. Do not allow the black woman's life to be lost without at least trying to protect it.

3. PETITIONS AND DONATIONS

Yes, signing your name on petitions and opening your purse to the many sites created to help protesters is a great way to help make change but it isn't the only way nor is it the most effective. Stop bashing people who do not see the value in signing an online petition amd start suggesting other ways to be active in this fight. Organize something in your neighborhood, attend a protest, help localize the situations going on if none of the tragedies apply to your town. Educate yourself and a friend. There are many other ways to protest and be active in the community other than donating money you may not have or signing a petition because twitter user funyunslover48 told you to. This is a direct message to those demonizing others for not signing petitions online or donating online. Its not the end of the world if the petition with 400,000 signatures doesn't get signed by Sandy because Sandy has signed ten other ones today and doesn't feel like she has to sign another. I will say, as a counter, if you haven't signed at least one petition or donated anywhere of you could, then you are definitely not helping and you need to find some links and sign some ink. Period.

4. ORGANIZING

My only statement for this is to look at living, civil rights activist. Revisit history a bit and do what you can to try and rally our people together as a whole. We need, as a collective, to have leaders in the community who are bringing us together from all sides. Paris, London, Tokyo, and parts of New Zealand have all had BLM protests in accordance with the ones happening in every state in America. We must unite ourselves somehow so that the true message of what we're fighting for, globally, is not lost nor is it misconstrued. This is my only suggestion for this section.

In all, the practices that have been going on for the last two weeks have been positive and good mostly. However, there is always room for improvement and there needs to be room for those who we have been constantly ostracizing. Now is the time for black people of all sexualities, genders, ages, and backgrounds to come together and fight for ourselves. We cannot say that our lives matter if we exclude our women and LGBTQIA+ family. We are united by our shared experiences and culture, please do not let who someone shares a bed with at night deter you from that fact.

Here is a list of black-led LGBT organizations that you can glean information from or donate to (list curated by Eugene Lee Yang of the Try Guys):

TGI Justice Project

The Okra Project

Anti-Violence Project

SNaPCO

Black Trans Travel Fund

The Transgender District

Black Aids Institute

Marsha P. Johnson Institute

Brave Space Alliance

Voix Noire

- nellmaria

(please excues any typos. this has yet to be edited.)

[blackgirlnotes]

Feeling Stuck | Notes by Nellmaria

I typically do not share personal emotions on my blog simply because I hold the idea that this a safe space for black girls and non-conforming identities as well as any other black people. A cybernetic space that gives information and peace to our race, however I realize that I am perpetuating a huge stereotype and pitfall of our people by doing so. Mental health is taboo in most black homes and it is easily written off as u gratefulness, overdramaticism, and disrespect However, the feelings and emotional struggles of black people are indeed valid and worthy of conversation.

Last night, I spoke on the phone to my friends from high school and as we're all catching up, we start talking about college and future plans. If anyone knows me, they know how much I love school and learning about the world around me. As we're sharing our post-grad plans and major life updates, I realized that I was uncharacteristically quiet. I didn't add anything to the conversation and I was never asked to join in. My friends know my situation with college and they have heard me rant about the unfairness of it all. I have cried and screamed over it for almost three years so I wasn't surprised when no one asked me what I had planned or how I have been, academically. Sure, I could've easily inserted myself into the conversation but I felt out of place. As if speaking would disrupt the balance of the mood and I would be outcast. This feeling, I realized soon after ending my call and calling my best friends immediately after, is rooted heavily in self-pity and FOMO.

My situation is unique but it isn't the worst. That said, it is still stressful and gets me teary eyed every time I think about the events leading up to where I am now. All of my friends are advancing at rapid paces with plans, goals and dreams and I have given them immense support, continously. Although, I do feel stuck and left behind. I have a friend who mentioned she was dabbling in starting a business and has been working towards that. I know I shouldn't, but I couldn't help but to feel a sting to my heart when the group started cheering for her and I suddenly remembered how deafly silent they were about me starting my business. Another friend of mine is considering venturing out into the world to pursue her dreams and while she is my greatest friend and platonic soul mate, I can't deny how sharp the cut felt when she mentioned moving out with someone else when we had discussed living together.

I know that my friends love me and care about me. I am very excited for their next steps in life. Yet, I feel so inadequate compared to them and it has caused me great stress and anxiety. I want so badly to be able to share something positive happening with me but besides this blog, my new job, and a fish: nothing in the last 3 years has been exciting. I feel alone and stuck. I am 20, and I know that life is just starting but I feel so beat down. Progress is subjective but I feel very stagnant.

In closing, I just wanted to share my emotions and struggles in a hope to encourage other black people to vocalize their own personal battles. It's okay to vulnerable now and again. Thank you all for reading and my next post will be chapter two of Twisted.

-nellmaria

[blackgirlnotes]

The Misconception of the Black Public Image

disclaimer: this has not been fully edited/proofread. please excuse all typos.

We have all heard the words ghetto, hood, thuggish and we have all seen what those words are attached to: gang violence, civil unrest, a young black boy walking home wearing a hood, our neighborhoods. These words have been in the English vernacular for decades and have not lost their meanings, yet their connotations have.

The term ghetto was initially used in reference to overly-crowded and unkept neighborhoods where immigrants were forced to live after arriving to the United States. These neighborhoods were in various cities but are mostly kown to have been in New York City, New York. These neighborhoods, due to the overflow of people, quickly deteriorated and the city never sought to refine the infrastructure. Therefore resulting in slums and borderline shanty-towns. The American English language thus adopted the term ghetto to refer to these places. However, amongst the many different races and ethnicities that sheltered in these homes, only one would maintain the stigma of low-income housing stereotypes despite where they came from.

To be fair, the argument can be made in the defense of the word ghetto as it was famously used in reference to Jewish neighborhoods and was not always directed at black people. However, ghettos can be defined as worn down, overpopulated neighborhoods that were meant to keep nonwhites and whites separate.

In the 1990s, via the rap/hip-hop scene, the term hood was popularized. It is the shortened version of neighborhood and was used by black people when speaking about where they lived. The idea of “being hood” grew from the general assumption and stereotype of ghettos and the people who lived in them. Because ghettos were unkempt by the landlords and the state, they decreased in property value. Many people who lived in private or luxury housing viewed the run-down areas as dangerous and breeding grounds for rascals and delinquents. This idea was unfortunately perpetuated by the dawn of storytelling through rap music. Artists like N.W.A and the Wu Tang Clan spoke about issues and situations that only too place in heavily black populated areas, specifically ghettos. From gang violence to drug addiction, rap and hip-hop began sharing these stories of trial and triumph to the mainstream media which in turn demonized these experiences and ultimately led to the idea that people who came from these neighborhoods were trouble makers. In short, we now associate the word hood with how we define the term ghetto. We see them as synonyms when in fact, they are not.

The idea of being thuggish is also something that gets mixed in with these misconceptions and tone-deaf assumptions of the black experience. Being a thug is not a new concept nor is it only applicable to unarmed black men who get racially profiled and gunned down in the streets. The word isn’t even a synonym for gangster. Thuggish joined the English language in the 1800s. It comes from the root word thug which is derived from the Hindi word thag, meaning “rogue or cheat.” In English, a thug is a cruel or vicious ruffian, robber, or murderer. A thug is a criminal not a black person from the hood.

With the background knowledge of the aforementioned terms, it is not hard to see the picture that has been so devastatingly painted for us. Because of racial inequalities, black people are hugely disproportionate compared to their white counterparts. We face more injustice in our lives than our white friends and family. We are viewed far differently than other races and we are never given the benefit of doubt. Because of racism, black people who live in low-income neighborhoods and/or public housing are seen as ghetto simply because they are from a place that resembles the halfwit idea of the hood. Black people are viewed a thugs because oppressors relate unmanicured lawns to domestic terrorism and suspicious activity when in fact is just the lack of money for yard care do to wage inequalities and limited resources.

Learn the origin of words before you use them. 

- nellmaria

[blackgirlnotes]

Nyarai is a young, popular, and posh black girl who lives a pretty mundane life. Like most teenagers, she enjoys going out with her friends and spending money that she hasn't earned. She practically has her life planned out: finish high school and graduate with honors, attend an HBCU and major in Political Science, then get married to a lawyer and have two children. However, fate has other plans for young Nyarai. A girl in her class suddenly collapses at a party and causes confusion when a weird mark appears on her right shoulder, sparking a series of crazy events. When Nyarai and her friends get themselves involved in the investigations, Nyarai begins to discover things about herself that she never knew, let alone wanted. She soon learns that while she may have a detaed plan for her life, fate always holds something else. Join Nyarai and her friends Sindra and Daniella in the short, Tumblr exclusive story series "Twisted" written by owner and admin of blackgirlnotes, Nellmaria.

First Chapter will be posted on June 18th, 2020. Please use the tags #blackgirlnotes and #TwistedBGN if you share this story. It is Tumblr exclusive and will be a side part of the blog. This wil not be the main content of the blog however it serves as a small bit of light-heartedness in such a heavy time. Until June 18th, please continue to fight for our freedoms. Be safe.

- nellmaria

[blackgirlnotes]

I am heartbroken and downtrodden.

To the family and friends of George Floyd, I am so sorry for the devastation that has become you. I am so sorry for the pain caused by the institutional racism that corrupts our cities. To anyone dealing with similar issues, I extend my heart to you.

It's been very difficult to find words for what has happened this week. So much death and injustice...how do people expect me or any black person to have rationale? From the riots to the peaceful protests, my people have been crying out against racism. Racism that has been persistent since the Atlantic Slave Trade.

To deny the actions of those racist, ignorant, police officers and the defense of them by our government is to take the side of oppression. To try and explain why not all cops are bad or why the police force is necessary is to side with oppression. To be white and not speak out against the genocide of black people in the world is to be on the side of oppression. To benefit from my culture and persecution without any remorse is to side with the oppresors. To try and throw MLK quotes and bible verses in my face as a way to call out the civil unrest taking place in Minneapolis and other cities is to side with oppression. If you fit any of these categories then you, unfortunately, are siding with injustice.

I have had close, non-black friends choose silence over activism. I have seen them blatantly close their mouths and tell me and other people to keep our political discourse away from them. I simply want to understand how racism and clear injustice is politics. How is the death of innocent black men and women and nonbinary people is politically inspired? How do you live with your selves?

Black lives have never mattered to racist white people. We have never been treated as equal. We have never been considered worth anything by our nonblack peers. We have always been "other" and mistreated because of the color and tone of our skin and the curl of our hair. Yet, they steal our music, erase our history, corrupt our communities and kill our people. I will never get why we're so hated but yet so desired. Its a sick obsession with our race. Maybe it's the way we have always bounced back from devastation. Maybe its the way we have a shared, international culture. Maybe its because despite the erasure of our lineages, we all know we come Africa and are all connected to each other that way. Maybe ots because we're unafraid.

Whatever the reason, I have no doubt that the atrocities committed against us will ever cease. Until they get rid of us, they will never be satisfied. It's heartbreaking and disgusting but unfortunately it is true. I urge you all to stay vigilant and safe during these times. Protect your families and friends. Pray. Do what you must to keep yourself at peace.

I will try to stay updated with any petitions and donation sites that benefit the affected families and protesters. We shall overcome.

https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/donate#

https://www.gofundme.com/f/snapcotdov?utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

Here are two sites that you can donate to. One is for Black Trans people and the other is the Minnesota Freedom Fund. Throughout my page there are links to George Floyd's GoFundMe and some petitions.

[blackgirlnotes]

TWISTED (a short story) - One

Nyarai sat at her window, her bronze eyes watched as many people passed on the busy streets below her. It was the weekend and rather than being outside she was trapped in her room due to her own decisions. Luckily, she wasn’t missing out on much. Her friends were also on punishment due to their involvement with Nyarai’s recklessness. Two days ago, Nyarai had heard about a party that was taking place at an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. It was being hosted by some guy who attended another school with one of Nyarai’s close friends, Sindra. It was definitely not a party that Nyarai was supposed to be at but of course, she wanted to go. When she asked her mother if she and her friends could go, she was promptly denied which led her to devise a plan to sneak out and go anyway. The party was not the actual issue, Nyarai realized when she finally received her punishment. The real issue is what transpired at the party.

Nyarai, Sindra, and their other friend Daniella were all handing out with some of the guys from their school at the party when suddenly someone screamed from the dance floor. Nyarai was the first one on the scene. She found a girl she recognized from her classes laying down on the ground with a large circle of partygoers surrounding her. She was clearly unconscious and Nyarai honestly thought she probably passed out from her alcohol consumption. Sindra was the next person to arrive and she gasped when she noticed the girl on the ground. “Look at her shoulder!” She had exclaimed. Nyarai did, noticing a huge brand on her right shouler. “She didn’t have that when we got here!” Another girl said from the crowd. She came forward and sat beside the girl laying down. “Who are you?” Daniella asked, finally walking up beside Nyarai. The girl glanced up teh the trio, a look of worry plastered across her face. ��My name is Faith. This is my sister, Hope.” Nyarai recognized the names of the girls, they were both in her chemistry class at school. “Wait, you said she didn’t have a brand when she got here?” Sindra interrupted. Faith nodded, her attention redirected back to her sister who was beginning to come to. “There’s absolutely no way that someone could sneak a brand onto her body in such a crowded party.” Daniella stated, “Is it fresh?” Faith placed her hand on the welted skin on her sister’s shoulder and winced, immediately moving her hand back, “FUCK! It’s burning!” This shocked Nyarai. She leaned down and felt the mark as well, wincing and shaking her hand in pain. “She’s right! It feels like it's on fire.” Faith tried waking her sister but when she placed her hands on her arms she pulled back again, “She’s burning up.” “Someone call the paramedics!” Daniella yelled while fishing in her purse for her phone. Faith and Nyarai collectively lifted Hope’s body and moved her to a safer, less congested place as they waited for a medic to arrive. "Will she be okay?" Faith asked. Nyarai frowned, "I don't know. It's really weird that she has a brand out of nowhere." Sindra nodded, "What is it even of? Like is it a symbol for something?" Nyarai moved to look at it, her eyes scanning the burnt skin. It was a circle with a square in the middle. In the square were three lines pointing in various directions. "It doesn't ring a bell." Sindra remarked after studying the burn. Nyarai was silent, her mind racing. She couldn't understand why, buts she recognized the mark. "I..I know it." She said, her voice uneven. "You do?" Faith asked. Daniella cocked an eyebrow, "What is it?" Nyarai took a step back, her mind swimming. She had no idea how she recognized the mark or even where it was from but the answer tumbled from her mouth easily, "Daima." As Nyarai spoke, Hope began coughing, slowly regaining her consciousness. Nyarai felt dizzy. She took deep breaths before screaming loudly, her mind filled with darkness and confusing sounds. "Nyarai?" Sindra took a step towards her friend. "What's wrong?" Nyarai didn't respond. Instead, her eyes rolled back and she fell to the ground. Her body twitched violently as foam began to form from her mouth. Daniella and Sindra gasped, immediately reaching for her. "Hey! Nyarai? Wake up!" Daniella cried. Nyarai didn't respond although she did hear her. The last Nyarai saw was Sindra leaning on to Daniella as tears welled in her eyes before her world went black.

I hope you enjoyed the very first installment of Twisted. Next chapter will be posted on June 25th.

[blackgirlnotes]

Open Letter | From the Admin

To the one who has never left my side,

They say soulmates do not have to be romantic or sexual. They say a person who is the other half of your soul can easily be a friend or a family member. For me, you are both.

I believe our souls have been intertwined for millennia, long before we were born. As you know, cosmologically we complete each other. In my darkest times you have been my light. In my weakest times, you were my strength. Even now, in the most confusing place in my life you have taken on the role of my guide. I only hope that I have been these things to you.

You would travel to unknown places for me, and have. If I could arrange the universe to your desire, I would. Thank you for being my cosmic force and my overall favorite part of life.

You bring out the best in me. I am not the same person with you as I am with everyone else. With you, I am 100% free. Only the purest souls can completely make the most troubled feel welcome.

All the fluffy words aside: thank you. For existing. For being. For listening. For your time.

This life is a tough one but I know that no matter what happens, we will always be right beside each other with a smile on our face and a dream in mind. My life has changed positively because of you. I dedicate this open letter to you.

Best friends. Soul mates. Sisters. Whatever you want to call it. You are the ying to my yang and I will always love you.

Sincerely,

nellmaria

[blackgirlnotes]

https://twitter.com/chaIamete/status/1271564501977088007?s=19

Twitter user @chalamete has curated a list of donation sites that are legitimate and help aid those in the Middle East. Please do all you can to help while you're signing petitions and donating to other organizations.

[blackgirlnotes]

In honor of the 99th anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre, here is a list of black-owned businesses in Oklahoma.

To find more black business in Oklahoma, visit www.TheGreenwoodGuide.com

A list containing more black owned businesses that aren't localized to Oklahoma will be posted later today.

[blackgirlnotes]

Official White House Petitions to Sign - Link to Twitter thread by aengelicbts

https://twitter.com/aengelicbts/status/1266789277419134976?s=19

[blackgirlnotes]

https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/donate#

(photo creds: @bloodydamnit / https://www.instagram.com/p/2L1D-BE8TD/ )

[blackgirlnotes]

For those in the Tulsa, OK area:

There will be free Coronavirus testing available on June 5th at Greater Union Baptist Church. Other services, such as food distribution and child immunizations, will be available as well. For more information, contact Jeremiah Watts at 9184081468