The Dissociative Properties of Blackness

The Rules :

When Using Public Transportation

When sitting on the train, always remember to remove your hands from your pocket so they can see you have no strange objects or weapons and so they feel assured you won’t pickpocket them.
Pretend not to notice if they shift two seats away from you or opt to stand up when you sit down. Giving eye contact will only make them uncomfortable and put you in the position of the aggressor
Keep books, phones or small snack items in outside pockets or in hand as to avoid opening bags and arousing further suspicion of your purpose on the train that day.
If you wish to stand, stand by the back doors or near the exit doors, never stand over them even if it is crowded. And when they stand over you peering down at you the whole way, disregard it and don’t look up (See 2. For why)
If a drunk or angry commuter verbally berates you, do not fight fire with fire in these situations. Present yourself as a pacifist or otherwise let those around you come to your defense. Do not show anger.

When Walking at Night

If it is you and one other person who is not a minority walking along the street, make every effort to be the one walking in front.
If you are behind, give them space. The repeated looks over their shoulder is because they are afraid
Walk on the opposite side of the street if possible
Do not suddenly break into a run or light jog to catch your bus/train. Know when and where you need to be and be on time.
If you are waiting for the night bus sit two seats away at the stop or stand on the far end as not to arouse suspicion
Wear gloves during the winter and keep your hands from your pocket
Do not assume they feel safer in groups, the rules still apply

General Tips/Advice

Always tip at restaurants. It will save the next customer of African descent from having a rude waiter who assumed they would not tip.
For those who are of Caribbean descent, find a way to make that known in a conversation. It will remind them of the places they’ve been on holiday and they will be much kinder to the you now that they see you as exotic
Do not show that you are offended when asked what part of Africa you are from
Be ready to explain yourself and every move you make
When shopping, it is helpful if you walk in and first ask a store representative a question about a product. It lowers your chances of being followed significantly.
Save small coins to pay for bags at the grocery store or any shopping place. They do not assume you are being environmentally friendly when you bring your own bag.
Do not be the first to bring up the topic of racism, otherwise you will be seen as complaining or unable to get past it
Do not be surprised if even White Liberals write off your experiences as just ‘Berlin Life'(or wherever you live). Only they define your experiences. Only they define racism
Smile often
Speak formally even in casual conversations
Above all, always be aware of how your actions, words and overall appearance makes those around you feel. Be aware of your surrounding. Do everything in your power to present a subtle, more refined version of yourself as to make them more comfortable in your presence.
You may remove your mask when you are home or privately amongst your own.

These are the rules. Well actually, these are just some of the rules to abide by as a black individual living in predominantly white spaces. They apply almost anywhere. You are constantly aware of them even if you choose not to follow them. You are constantly aware of new ways to improve your circumstance that require you to become a lesser version of who you are. And you are constantly aware that this is what enables you to survive.

But at times, even the fight to survive becomes a quiet surrender. A dying of self.

I’ve found myself in this position lately. Surrendering myself so much so that I begin to lose myself. And it isn’t until lately that I have become aware of the dissociative properties of blackness. I have been aware and followed some of the rules of being black in white surroundings all my life, but I have always had a community to go home to where I can safely remove my mask and disregard the rules.

Berlin is different.

The community of those like me is much smaller and more divided. I have one close black female friend as opposed to eight. There are few places that cater to my physical and mental needs. To my surprise, the Afro German community is harder to fit into. It’s not necessarily that there is a lack of solidarity, it’s just that language, culture and the black experience of being Afro German versus African/Caribbean American separates us. What I’m realizing is that I have never had to experience what it is like when you can’t remove the mask. What it’s like when the comforts of home are scarce.

I have never dissociated until now.

The best way I can describe it is feeling you’re in a bubble watching life happen around you. When I’m in that space, my voice becomes unrecognizable. The words I speak sound foreign. My body moves not as I will it to but as the surroundings demand. And when I get home the mask becomes less of a mask but more like skin grafts disfiguring who I am. Distorting the image I see when I look in the mirror. Days and weeks go by and I’m unaware of it. I lose motivation to write, to read, to create. I feel as though I’m performing an act at all times but the curtains never close. I feel as though I am reciting words from a novel that was written for me and not by me. I feel…but I don’t feel. Anything.

It is a strange and very real phenomena that happens slowly over time.

In becoming aware of it I have gained, but also in that I have lost.

Today I left an interracial relationship because of this but let me make it clear that my partner was not toxic and I am not against interracial marriage, dating, and procreating (I don’t care to debate how this makes me less woke, in touch with my ancestors, or not truly black). In any relationship you have two people coming from various backgrounds and upbringings and you find a way to exist in each others spaces. In my previous interracial relationships we were able to find this common ground, but in this one we were just too different. And the differences became more apparent the more I became aware of my dissociation and the more I came out of it. It was no longer enough to have a few things in common. It was no longer enough that I was able to cross the bridge over into their world because of how often I had to do it in my daily life. They attempted to do the same but it is a hard process if you’ve never been put in that position before. On top of that there were major cultural and personality differences that separated us outside of race. In the end, it was the end. And that wasn’t an easy decision to make. It isn’t easy leaving a person when you become accustomed to the routine of each other. But they understood and respected my needs. As much as it hurt (and still hurts like hell), I knew in time I would only dissociate from them further and further until the relationship had soured and I grew bitterness towards them for things they couldn’t control. I left while there was still love to be had and memories to be cherished.

And I’m proud of that decision.

I’m proud of myself as I come into my own in an unfamiliar surrounding. As I no longer sacrifice myself for the comfort of others. As I create space to exist here, and welcome others to join me. I rise and inhale my blackness like black coffee grounds brewed in the morning. Slowly my voice returns to me and I recognize the words I hear when I speak. Slowly I am becoming myself again.

I want it to be known that in no way am I shaming Berlin neither do I regret my decision to move here. In many ways Berlin and its people have awoken me from a slumber I fell into years ago and have helped me unravel the many facets of who I am. But these experiences are real and persist just about everywhere in the world, and I want to shed light on it.

I hope these words enlighten those who want to understand and comfort those who understand all too well.

Most of all I hope today you can do me this one favor,

Love Yourself,

AFS

P.S.

To You,

To the one who loves strawberry ice cream on hot summer days.

Thank you.

For hearing me. For listening to my voice. For validating my feelings, emotions, and experiences. For attempting to find solutions and outlets for me so that we could mend the relationship. And for accepting that the only solution was that we go our separate ways.

If life is ever so kind as to allow our paths to meet again, whether it be in friendship or love

I’ll be standing at the crossroad with a bouquet of tulips in my hand

Waiting for you

The Things We Learn: Wounded

So I was low.

Really, really low.

It’s not the lowest I’ve been by far but it was pretty low. Navigating German bureaucracy while broke, a bit lonely, and still figuring out how to give my artistic projects more momentum is a burdensome full time job with no pay.

But I’ve learned a few things and I want to share them with you.

The first lesson has to do with friendship. I’ll give a heads up now that this is the least light hearted lesson out of the bunch but this past week has been nothing short of a miracle and there were people that reached out and situations that seemed to find resolutions for themselves seemingly out of nowhere. With that being said, I’m not focusing on the negative but writing the lessons in the order that I learned them.

So first,

As my mom, and probably yours, has always said, ”You learn who your true friends are when you’re going through tough times.” I’ve had brushes with this lesson before in 2017 when my best friend spread a horrible rumor about me around church while I was at the same time being shamed and humiliated by the church itself. Then again in 2018 after coming down from a bad trip, the friends I had switched up to save their own faces in front of the church or maybe for themselves who knows. Either way, in the last two years of my life I’ve watched this phenomena play out but each time I’ve walked away wounded as opposed to wiser. I find myself investing too much time and energy trying to think what I could’ve done differently or the most daunting question, why is it so easy for some people to tell you they love you one day and the next treat you as if they never knew you?

But this time was different. The way the lesson played out was different and I was able to view it all from another angle. This time my tough situation wasn’t revolved around a humiliating event. It wasn’t surrounded by circumstances that would lead to people distancing themselves in dramatic or hurtful ways. This time I was just down on my luck as they say.

So I did something out of the ordinary.

At least it is for me.

I told people what I was going through. Now, my posts are generally pretty vulnerable but I talk about events that have happened already. Even the people I talk to on a regular basis only find out about my problems long after I’ve found the solution. So to write an entire post about what a funk I was in with no resolution, all despair was odd for me.

But I took it a step further. I asked for help. I made a small post on my Instagram Story stating that I was at a low point and needed some kind words and encouragement. Usually that’s my role, people call me to vent, seek advice and a joke or two to go about their day re-energized and maybe even enlightened on how to approach the problem. But that day I needed someone to fill that role for me, to help me see the bigger picture. All I needed was a conversation.

And only five people reached out. People read the blogs, saw my Story and only five people reached out.

At first I didn’t think much of it. The truth is, everyone is going through a tough time in one way or another. It can take a lot out of you to be there for someone else when you need someone to be there for you. But this is a recurring theme in my life and I could never understand it. People seem to be genuinely uncomfortable with me in my times of need.

Am I too vulnerable? Am I expressing to much emotion to the point its overwhelming? Is it something I can change? What am I doing wrong?

I still hadn’t come to understand it all until a few nights ago. It was a night where I was feeling incredibly lonely and wondering why I came to Germany. Don’t get me wrong, I love Berlin but I haven’t quite found my group of people the way I usually can anywhere in the States. Add on the fact that it’s been a stressful time, it’s no wonder I contemplate packing my bags and going home every now and then. And then that opportunity presented itself.

That night I saw an advertisement for a Director of Student Affairs position for the foundation that provided my housing in Uni. I definitely qualify and it’s good pay for a job I would actually love to do. The more I thought about it, the more the risk I took moving here seemed pointless. Why stress when I could go back to the states where I’m not fighting for a visa and stressing over food and shelter. Maybe pursuing art and writing wasn’t meant to be, maybe I just needed a break.

I was conflicted so I wrote a friend who lives in Berlin to ask for advice. By the time they wrote back I had already decided to apply only if it was my last resort and I had to leave Berlin. But out of curiosity I asked, ”Would you miss me if I was gone?” and their reply was ”Sure.”

Now any other day I would have thought nothing of it, and what I’ve learned from this is don’t ask questions when you’re already emotional and expecting a particular answer. But I asked, and after their answer, I cried.

I actually cried myself to sleep.

They hadn’t said anything wrong. Of course they had no clue on the other end I was in a deep pit of loneliness, all I had told them was that I needed advice on applying for a job. They had no clue (and neither did I until I thought about it) that what I was really asking myself more than anything else was, ‘Do I actually matter to anyone?’

Have I made an impact?

Because if that were true, if I mattered to people and if I had truly made an impact on them it wouldn’t be so easy for them to switch up on me from one day to the next. It wouldn’t be so easy for them to call me a friend and then so easily call me an enemy. It wouldn’t be that the one time I actually cry out for help after years of being everyone else’s shoulder to cry on, it wouldn’t be that only five people reach out, and one of those people was a complete stranger.

It can’t possibly be that way unless I truly haven’t made an impact on anyone I’ve crossed paths with.

At least that’s what I thought until I came across (well actually googled) an article about loneliness. This particular article (I’ll include the link) explains how loneliness affects each person based on their Myers Briggs personality type. I’m an ESFP and here’s what it said

ESFPs are usually outgoing, friendly, and optimistic individuals. They tend to get lonely when they have nobody to really connect with or talk to on a meaningful level. Because they are usually enthusiastic, humorous, and fun-loving, they tend to draw in a variety of friends who enjoy their charisma and charm. This can be both a blessing and a curse for the ESFP, as they simultaneously enjoy the friendships, but also feel worried that their friends are only there to be entertained and nothing more. Some people take advantage of the ESFPs good humor and jovial personality and then run away when times get hard and the ESFP needs someone to be there for them. This is when the ESFP tends to feel the loneliest. It’s important that they have some good friends who really care for them during the ups and the downs and who aren’t just there for the good times and the smiles and laughter.

Now before anyone knocks me for being one of those people that actually believes in the Myers Briggs test let me just say that everyone has their thing. Is my identity wrapped up in this test? No, but does it give me decent incite to why I feel or perceived the world around me in a certain way? Yes, and I need that clarity every now and then.

But on to the bigger point, this explains it. It’s not that people don’t care or even that I haven’t made an impact. Its that there is one role I predominantly play in people’s lives and that’s to be the fun one. In highschool almost everyone who wrote in my yearbook wrote how much they would miss my jokes and the way I light up a room. Even my teachers would tell me some days were boring until I came to class to brighten things up. People expect that from me, top that off with one of my greatest flaws is that I don’t often (almost never) express to people when I’m sad so it probably makes people uncomfortable because they haven’t seen that side of me before.

Does this excuse them?

No. People shouldn’t hang around you only when they want to have a good time. People should invest in you, support you and make time for you in the good times and the bad but the thing is,

People will be people.

As it says, this personality trait is a blessing and a curse. Not only a blessing because it draws so many people to me but because I have something that every human being seeks after in this world. Joy and Happiness. Of course it’s hard when people walk away the moment when Joy and Happiness is no longer available but that’s when I take the necessary precautions to protect my heart. I know who I can lean on and who I can’t and if I expect everyone I come in contact with to be there when I need it most then I’m setting myself up to be hurt.

So loneliness is going to happen, especially at this stage of my life I’m going to feel a lot of loneliness in Berlin. I’m going to be hurt by people who gravitate towards me for the good times I bring. I’m going to have a hard time connecting to people who don’t actually want to hear what’s on my mind but rather want me to say something to make them laugh or convince them to do something crazy and wild with their life. These are all realities I’ll continue to live until the day I walk away wiser, and I don’t walk away wounded.

But that’s all for now as they say. Do me this one favor today.

Love Yourself.

Sincerely

AFS

Discouraged

I’ve been struggling for a while to write a new post. I haven’t been quite sure what to write about and I feared a lack of consistency would lead to this blog being forgotten.

But I’ve never been the type to write ingeniously. Everything I write comes from my soul. Somedays I write for hours on end based off one feeling or emotion, and then some days I write nothing at all. Somedays I just don’t feel the need to unwind.

But today I feel so heavy. So low. Today I need to unwind.

I woke up this morning heavy hearted as has been the norm for the past few weeks. Living in Germany is great but in many ways it has been hard.

Acquiring a visa has been one of the most tedious battles of my life and it still continues. The good news is I was offered a job that starts in March so my visa should come through by the end of this month. What’s difficult is that this job requires that I am certified in B2 German. I’ve been learning but the process is slow and arduous. German is very tricky grammatically, and I can’t afford language classes that would probably speed the process up.

And while I believe I will be able to learn and teach myself enough to pass the test without courses, there is the ever present fear that I won’t. What if I fail? Then what?

How will I make ends meet while I’m currently struggling for money?

I came to Berlin with a good amount of money saved up, but I left the AuPair family and have since used most of my money for rent, food, or transportation. And now I’m worried, maybe even scared. Maybe I should have stayed or just switched families. Yes I would be making no money and have no time to focus on my own projects, but at least I would have food and shelter guaranteed.

I have always been a person who works, saves and plans for the future. At one point in college I had five jobs and would still walk most places even though I had a car. If I had extra money left over at the end of the month, it always went directly to savings. I planned for rainy days that never came at times but here I am. Stuck in a rainy day with no umbrella. For the first time in my life I have 200 left to my name. No savings, no extras tucked away in the mattress. 200. I don’t know where rent will come from. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pay for insurance next month or my transportation card. I have a few babysitting jobs possibly coming up but there it is again. Possibilities.

I’m more discouraged than afraid though.

Discouraged because I feel like I failed myself. I failed people around me.

This week my mom called to tell me my cousin got in trouble with the law and landed himself in jail. He’s a good kid, he really is. Just a good kid with no real support and little opportunity because of that in my opinion.

The next day I called to see if he made bail and she hit me with more bad news. My dad was in a motorcycle accident that night and shattered his leg. I’m sure he’ll recover but how will he work? How will he provide for the family. We’re not rich by any means. I worked in my families business for many years to help ends meet. My parents work to the bone to provide for themselves and the family and it’s always just enough. And now my dad can’t work. My cousins and my Aunt recently moved in with my parents and siblings because they were just granted entry into the U.S. from Haiti. While they gather themselves, find work and learn English, my parents have been helping them out. I know God always makes a way but I can’t help but feel worried for them.

Then I called to see how things were going and I was hit with one final piece of bad news. My grandma has stage 3 breast cancer. She went in for a regular check up and they found the abnormal cells in her body. My grandma has worked every day of her adult life, to this day she still works. A few years ago she started her own orphanage in Haiti and works to provide for those kids. She made the decision to come to America by boat with 8 children while still pregnant just for the chance of giving them a better life. She is one of the hardest working women I know and I question life when situations like these come to people like her. I remember when I first started traveling the world back in college, I had saved up enough money to go to London and other parts of Europe. When I told her about it she was in awe almost, she said “Wow, you’re going to big places to do big things.” It was just a trip but at that moment I realized what a big deal that is for her. She came from Haiti with nothing but her children and now her granddaughter is college educated and traveling the world. She probably never imagined things like this. Things I have taken for granted. And after all of that, all those years of work and struggle, and giving. After all of that, she now has to confront cancer head on.

Although these things are out of my control I feel that being in this situation only makes matters worse because I am no help to anyone around me. I have a job that starts in March, I was signed to a modeling/people agency last week that I’ll begin working for in late February so right now none of that helps. Those two opportunities won’t even matter if for some reason the foreign office decides not to grant my work visa. And that’s a possibility. I’m paying rent, paying for health insurance, registering myself where I’m supposed to and one person having a bad day or simply not feeling like it can deny my visa without any reason. That worries me.

I had this idea to come to Germany to establish myself, establish my projects and return back to the states once everything was sorted and able to make money on its own. Deep down I still have hope but that hope is fading if I’m being honest.

So I’m discouraged. I know Christians are quick to say you shouldn’t be because God is on our side and what not but honestly that’s a bunch of bullshit we say to make ourselves appear stronger than we are. Or just appear as good faithful Christians who know how to recite generic Joel Osteen holiday cards better than we can the actual Bible. I get sad damn it. I get hurt. I get discouraged, I feel low even when I should feel high. I may be depressed. If God didn’t know that there wouldn’t be entire books in the bible expressing sadness (the book of Lamentations), Paul wouldn’t have admitted anxieties and fears that he had while walking with Christ. Half of the Psalms David wrote would have no meaning if he never felt the things I feel. That poor pastor in California wouldn’t have committed suicide if he didn’t go through pain so here it is.

Here is the unwinding.

Here I am saying I’m lost.

Here I am saying I’m struggling.

Here I am saying I need help even though I am unwilling to ask for it.

Here I am saying I am afraid.

Here I am in tears as I write this.

Here I am.

I am Discouraged.

But that’s all for now as they say. No matter what happens in your day, please do me this one favor:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

Happy New Year

I’ve run out of time to finish telling you about 2018.

I was writing part three last night but ended up having a small pre New Years party with some friends. Three Hennessey and Cokes later it remains unfinished in my Google Docs while I lay in bed nauseous making a mental note to myself that there’s a reason I stick to beer and wine.

It was a disappointing feeling at first, leaving it unfinished. I’m a person who starts a billion projects and many I haven’t seen through to the end. I don’t always finish what I start and I hate that about myself.

But that’s the thing. It is finished. After tonight there will never be another 2018. Everyday that has passed I will never see again. I could scramble to give you a recap of year 2018 so you’re not left with a cliffhanger but unfortunately you will have to hang in there for a while. In general you know it was a rough year, but if God spares me this last day I’ll get to see the start of a New Year.

Think about that. Really think about that. A new set of 365 days. Do you know just how much your life can change in a year? For a second let’s reconsider year 2017 (go to previous posts if you haven’t read it yet) my entire life changed physically and mentally. Yes it was terrible but think about that, my life changed in 365 days. Actually it was one day that changed it all. And from that one day an entire year was affected. It’s more amazing than tragic when I consider that the reverse is possible. With the knowledge I now I have, the power I’ve found within myself and confidence I refuse to smother, I can change the 365 days ahead of me and every single day is a 24 hour chance to do just that.

Studies say it takes about 21 days to create a habit and about 90 to form a lifestyle. In that short amount of time you could make a significant impact on your life. In 365 days you can develop about 17 different habits and 4 different lifestyles, really for a second think about that. The opportunities aren’t necessarily endless but they are available. They are possible.

So if you’re the type to make New Year’s resolutions, make them. Expect to fail at them, but try again. Or don’t, maybe try something new. Or make new resolutions in March just because. Try the new gym down the street. Cry when you’re sad, laugh when you’re happy. Watch a movie when you feel lazy and don’t beat yourself about it. Have a productive day. Quit the job you hate, I promise you there is another one waiting even if it’s below your pay grade, sometimes you just need to start fresh. Buy nice things and live in the present. Save money and plan for the future. Shave your head and grow your beard. Take a selfie. Disconnect from social media. Start a Youtube channel. Try religion, or try to understand why you walked away from it or never believed. Be afraid. Conquer your fear. Find yourself. Then lose yourself. What I’m getting at is take advantage of the opportunities that will come your way. Even go as far as creating those opportunities for yourself.

Yes, the unforeseen can and will happen. I am certain you and I will face trials, tragedy and the likes this year but that’s life, pain is inevitable. Honestly, pain at times is a pleasant reminder that we are still alive, sensing, breathing, and feeling the world around us. As I like to say, how would we know what love is if we never experience hate? Pleasure if we never feel pain? So yes, pain will come and with it will come empathy for others who have suffered like you. And before long I promise you so will healing.

In knowing there will be joy or pain, success or failure in whatever you do, there is nothing left to do but the thing itself. I thought my message for new years would be more specific, maybe about forgiveness or persevering through troubling times but the greatest lesson I’ve learned through it all is to live through it all. There is nothing better and nothing more that people can do other than just live and do good while they live. Find satisfaction in whatever you do and accept each day, good or bad. Life will teach you the lessons you need to learn along the way, you just need to be present when the lecture begins.

So live. That is my New Year’s resolution for you. That you live and live abundantly.

It’s raining fireworks here in Berlin. I must be getting old because I find it to be a nuisance now, but I do need to go out and enjoy these final two hours of 2018. Hopefully we meet again next year.

That’s all for now as they say. Until next time please do me this one favor today, and everyday in this new year:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

Year ’17: The Worst Year of My Life Pt.4

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that you can’t vent to everyone. Sometimes not even your best friends.

Maybe a month had passed, I still hadn’t gone back to the church as the pastor wanted me to. It was a fucked up system and I knew going back would drive me to kill myself even more. I could picture the sin being the center of my church existence as a guilt that people would always see looming over my head. What else occured in my life would be of lesser significance, it only matters if I’ve gotten rid of this thing inside of me. Above all else I was embarrassed, a feeling I rarely ever feel as an extrovert. But I felt it. Humiliated. Ashamed. I felt it.

But I hated being the outsider, feeling shunned out from the community. The pastor’s wife had been my friend and mentor, she knew about my same sex struggles before this had happened, and after this all came out she never spoke another word to me.

It was lonely but more than anything I was angry. There was a part of me that wanted everyone to feel pain, physical pain. I hated them. I had a dream once that I had beat some of them nearly to death and when I woke up I was sad it wasn’t true. It’s like I was going through the stages of grief and this was anger. Rage even. I expressed this to my best friend, I told her how I would imagine myself walking into the church with a gun, that I now understood how an ordinary person could snap. I told her everything I felt including how at the same time I felt all this anger, there was a deep desire to disappear. I just wanted to die, each day was becoming unbearable and all I could think of was killing myself.

About three days later she called to say she didn’t want me to come around her, her husband or his daughter whom I adored. She said until I could get my thoughts of suicide in order it was only necessary for us to talk over the phone. She had to protect them from what I could do to myself. I wondered if it had more to do with my anger, but she assured me that it wasn’t, she just couldn’t put up with how sad I was all the time. Usually I bounced back from hardships and this time I wasn’t getting better and she couldn’t be there for me anymore.

I blamed myself again. It wasn’t enough that my mistakes were keeping people at bay, now it was my grief too. Later I realized how messed up that was. My best friend abandoned me when I needed her most. Although she assured me that once I got myself together things would be fine between us, we never saw each other again.

I ended up sending an email to the pastor, his wife, and my ex’s parents. I don’t remember much of it but I told them they were careless and malicious people. Then there were parts that I do remember and looking back it was a clear picture I was losing it. Losing my mind. Some words were just nonsense. On one hand I’m proud that I wasn’t afraid to call them out on their shit, but saddened that I let them see how much it all affected me. Let them see me broken.

There was a night I became so desperate I called the girl even though I knew I should stay away. I had convinced myself that she must be in despair and we both needed closure, or to talk and find a way to escape it all. My cousin had warned me a few days prior against reaching out to the girl. She said “If someone truly loves you or even cares for you, they will stop at nothing to contact you. If she cares about you anymore she would have tried to reach you by now and she hasn’t”.

But I reached out anyway. And unfortunately my cousin was right. She sent back a text message that ended with “FUCK OFF!”, she said I had done nothing but bash her parents even though they prayed for me, and I was clearly the only one hurt by it all. She regretted everything between us and told me never to reach out to her again ending it all with “FUCK OFF.” Then her father texted me and told me to stay away for good, he said the email was bizarre and I had no right to come to their house before. And my best friend had made the church aware of ‘my plans’ to kill their family and the pastor.

That’s still the most devastating part. The way she twisted my words behind my back. It’s one thing for people to know you’re gay, but for your best friend to convince them you were a homicidal maniac is even worse. In their minds they now justify any wrong they’ve ever done to you, and are probably glad they got you out before you could do any harm. She was the church favorite, she was perfect, so of course everyone believed her. And that’s when I knew I would never win, it would only get worse. So I gave up.

And I left the next day. I didn’t say anything back, didn’t tell them it was a lie. Nothing. I quit my job and made the 8 hour drive home, but not before picking up a dog from the shelter to keep me company. I had read somewhere that they help with depression.

When I got home I explained to my parents why I had come back. And that was my coming out story. That’s how I told them I was gay. And in a way it was a blessing. My parents are Christians but seeing how hurt I was they told me they loved me no matter what. I had known I was gay since I was 7 and at 21, the moment I feared most, telling my parents, turned out to be the most comforting experience thus far.

I had never told my bestfriend that I left or that I knew what she did. She called a few days later and I was sure would try to explain herself because no doubt the family would make sure to let the church know I had contacted their daughter. But she didn’t know. I was actually quite shocked by her words:

“Happy Birthday”.

July 11th. I had completely forgotten.

But I didn’t say thank you. I asked her if she had actually spread that rumor which took her by surprise. She asked me how I knew and that question was all the answer I needed. I cut the friendship off, she sent an email later saying everything that I was feeling and experiencing was my own fault. I sent a kind email back, but later sent one that expressed how I really felt which I’m unsure she ever read. And 2017 continued to drag me along full of misery and depression. I’m not even sure if what I experienced can be called depression. I still look back and think it would have been better to have died than to experience the loneliness and sadness I felt.

Maybe I’ll speak more intimately about that later.

How do I feel about it all? I’ll say something brief but it would take more to dissect and describe my assessment of this part of my life.

But in short, as I write these I’m realizing how unfortunate these near last two years have been, so many memories I haven’t stirred up in a while. I had a 12 hour panic attack after finishing this piece and I’m well aware there will be much time and patience needed before I repair the damage done. No, I haven’t forgiven them. Forgiveness is a discipline in many ways. Because we never forget, no matter how much you would like to forgive and forget as they say, it is impossible. So we must teach ourselves to forgive every time we remember, a skill I haven’t mastered as yet. If there’s anything I want is my name to be cleared. I’m gay they’re right about that, but I’m no murderer. Maybe you can find a way to justify everything else, but I didn’t deserve that.

But in time I’ll show you how I grew from it.

You see, there will be many times in life where we’ll feel like this. That we’ve been buried, like a body left to rot. But really, we’ve been planted, like a seed meant to grow.

But now you’re up to speed. And now I can continue with the ass kicking of 2018 before 2019 comes around.

But that’s all for now as they say. Until next time please do me this one favor today:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

Year ’17: The Worst Year of My Life Pt.3

The last time she called me, when she hung up I knew for sure nothing would ever be the same.

“My parents are asking questions about us.”

At those very words I knew it was over. She was reluctant to tell them everything but I encouraged her that it would be for the best. Based on the questions they were asking, I could tell they weren’t asking because they didn’t know, but because they wanted her to tell them.

She hung up the phone and I didn’t hear from her afterward. A day or so passed and I messaged her to ask some vague question about prom just to see if she would answer. She read the message but said nothing. And something told me to check my email.

I have these moments in life that I would describe as brief dissociation or such a misunderstanding of reality that I come up with nonsense solutions to traumatic problems. Such as when my 3 year old cousin was killed in a car accident, when I heard about it I asked myself “Why don’t they just put her seatbelt on now?” As if it were possible to go back and prevent the unthinkable.

Reading the email in my inbox brought on a moment like this. I remember saying, “Maybe if I hadn’t read it, none of this would be happening right now.”

Her parents sent a long email expressing their anger and disappoint. The fault was put on me, and they accused me of taking advantage as a mentor. Although I never claimed to be that to her and neither did she. They said I was no longer invited to attend her graduation (ruining the surprise) asked me to cut off all contact until we spoke about it with the pastor.

It hurt reading that email, but it hurt more when I saw how many people they had CC’d the email to. The church secretary, my best friend and her husband, the youth pastor, some more people I can’t remember and later I found out they sent it out a few more times to different people in the congregation until as I’m sure, the whole church received the email.

The next day the pastor emailed me. He said he was disappointed that I would bring her into this lifestyle with me. I had brought nothing but chaos to their family and he wouldn’t allow my spirit to infiltrate his youth/church. I was to undergo counseling under his direction, apologize to him and then make a public apology to the church. Step down from any position in the church and of course have no contact to the family, not even as we attended the same church.

And this is me sugar coating his words. It was nothing but hate.

I responded to them, let them know how ungodly the whole situation was. The fact they felt the need to publicly humiliate me while I was oceans away. The fact that none of what they were saying and doing was biblical and above all point out that there was no reason for the blame to be on me alone. Then again, I have no clue what she said. Being gay is the worst thing to be in a church. Who knows what she said to separate herself from me. All I know is that in one day everyone I had know for four years, who had loved me, we had shared each others company, prayed and worshipped God together, suddenly all these people hated me. They were saints and I the sinner to be cleansed underneath their tainted views of Christianity.

Yet even as I defended myself I apologized. At the end of the day they were right about one thing. I had committed a homosexual sin and for that I had to repent. As much as I could point out every wrong they had done it felt as though it all pointed back to me. I was the reason this was all happening. To admit same sex desires is one thing but to act on them is another, so it was my fault. The shame I felt was justified and I deserved to feel that way. I deserved to feel ashamed of myself.

And with that shame I fell apart immediately. Stopped eating and slept as much as possible. Tried to kill myself a few times. Stayed in the darkness, showered when I remembered, stopped going to class. I wasted away physically and mentally. Everytime I closed my eyes I could hear their words playing over in my head like a broken record. Then there was the perpetual sense of being alone. In Christianity there’s this phrase that though we may sometimes feel lonely, with God we are never alone. But this was the first time I couldn’t find truth in that statement. It was the first time I felt truly alone. Deep down I felt that if these people loved God, lived a wholesome Christian and were disgusted by me, didn’t want contact with me and those who did suddenly wanted to control every aspect of my churchlife, then God must feel the same. God didn’t love me anymore.

I kept most of this to myself. It would be months before I told anyone outside of it what was going on. Even the two close friends I had made in Hong Kong didn’t know until a long while after.

My best friend, would call to see how I was doing. I could tell she was caught in the middle as a worship leader. She wanted to remain my friend and supporter but at the same time hold true to her Christian values. I wonder if she’s ever learned that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. They never were.

I could tell she was changing her opinion when one day I called to talk about it and she asked me when I would finally get over it. Everyone else had moved on from it but I hadn’t. But it had only been seven days. Even so those words struck me, after that I kept it to myself more than ever and started to believe I was overreacting. That it wasn’t traumatic and I needed to get over it and the fact that I wasn’t was because I hadn’t fully repented or something like that. Everyone else had moved on because they were prayerful, kind people, and I was stuck because I couldn’t see past their insignificant actions. It was my actions that were far worse than theirs, and maybe that’s why I was suffering so much.

But it was traumatic, so much so that I left Hong Kong early and moved back to the city against my judgement to stay away. I just wanted the haunting thoughts to go away. I wanted people to see me the way they did before. I wanted to be forgiven.

So I went back to apologize to her family in person. But upon opening the door they let me know I was no longer welcome and they wanted me to leave. I’ll never forget the look on her mother’s face, like I was the most disgusting thing she’d ever laid her eyes on. It was my ex who had opened the door, she barely looked at me, just kept her eyes low as her mother spoke. But I showed little emotion, I just left. When I got home I put my roommates gun to my head and prayed I’d find the courage to pull the trigger.

I didn’t. And it only got worse from there.

But that’s all for now as they say. Until next time please do me this one favor today:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

Year ’17: The Worst Year of My Life Pt.2

I started to feel the pressure and it weighed heavily on me.

The more people asked questions the more guilt I felt. Some nights I spent hours praying for answers, begging God to make me straight. I had read articles of Christians who had overcome it and there was nothing more I wanted.

But at the same time she was all I wanted.

After a few months we finally shared our first kiss. I left class and went straight to her place to chill for a bit. I felt the moment coming on and I was nervous as hell. I kept talking and I could see how annoyed she was that I wasn’t being as forward as I had talked up the day before. But then it happened. It was incredible at first, but then guilt washed over like a flood. So much so that I told her we should have no contact for a while because I felt like I was the one to blame. She had never had feelings for a woman before. I was the one dragging her down a dark path I had paved.

The no contact didn’t last long, soon enough we were back at it again. And again people took notice.

One day the head youth pastor approached us and asked if there was anything between us. Surprisingly he was very kind, he just extended his prayers and help if we needed someone to talk about it with. Even though it felt good to get it off my chest, another burden came in its place. If he could sense it it wasn’t long before the whole church would.

And that’s when I decided to leave. I’d always wanted to spend a semester abroad and there was no better time to leave than when I needed to escape myself.

My plan was almost complete but in a turn of events I ended up staying with her family for about a week just before my flight date. During those few days we were sexually intimate. The first time with a woman for either of us. After that there was no way to seperate us, even after I had left.

On New Year’s day, the first day of 2017, the night before my flight I asked her to be my girlfriend and for the first time were official. I think it was a way for either of us to secure that the other would still be there when I came back. Even so we were back and forth, in and out of being in a relationship while I was away. Faith was the number one reason we pulled away.

And I needed her badly during that time. I had chosen to study in Hong Kong and my dream student exchange experience turned out to be a lonely four months in a country where people coughed when I walked past, afraid I had contaminated the air with AIDS. Some never called me by name, just ‘Africa’. There was even an incident when a few students pulled on my hair during a student photo and posed making faces behind my head. I ended writing a letter to the student body about the racism on the campus and it ended up going viral at every University in Hong Kong. The University I was attending extended an apology but at that point I was over the whole exchange.

And everyday I thought about her. We Facetimed daily but I missed our usual routine from before. I hated that I wasn’t there to celebrate her 19th birthday, it all started to feel like one big mistake. I wondered if I should’ve stayed. I had planned to move to Germany after Hong Kong but I felt that becoming a distant reality. In spite of my travel plans, I had arranged a flight home first to surprise for her high school graduation. I’d sent her a letter for her birthday and when I asked what she wanted for graduation she said the only thing she wanted was for me to be there.

So I arranged to be there just in time.

Strangely enough I had this feeling I wouldn’t make it. I read once that the soul knows all. It’s always attuned to the world around it and can perceive what’s next. It just takes our bodies a while to catch up.

I wish my body had caught up sooner. Cause I never made it to that graduation. And what came next I had never dreamed of even in my worst nightmare.

But that’s all for now as they. Until next time please do me this one favor today:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

Year ’17: The Worst Year of My Life Pt.1

Year 2017 begins of course, with year 2016.

July 2016.

That’s when I met her for the first time, sort of. We were members of the same church but if any of you attend church regularly, you know how you can get accustomed to greeting certain people every Sunday without ever really getting to know them. I was actually a youth leader at one point and she was one of our members and we still didn’t know close to anything about each other. She was that familiar yet unknown face for me until that July.

That July my best friend got married. We were sharing her apartment together at the time but she and her husband would soon move in together which meant I had to find a new place. I didn’t need anything permanent, just for two weeks until my college scholarship home re-opened for the Fall semester. There was a woman I had grown close to in church and I asked if I could stay with her family for the short time and they kindly opened their home to me.

This girl, her, was their adopted daughter. I still remember the first day we spent more than two minutes together. She was a typical 18 year old high school senior. Talked way too much about things I had no care for, but she was sweet. In the two weeks we grew close, incredibly close. Very early on I knew I had intense feelings for her but I kept it to myself. Being gay was something only a few people knew about. And even the ones who knew I always phrased it as ‘an internal struggle’ never fully admitting or accepting homosexuality. Christians, true Christians are kind and forgiving people, but many times I’ve seen how quickly that can shift to hatred with the slightest mention of homosexuality. Therefore it was always necessary to paint the picture that I was in constant spiritual warfare with this aspect of myself.

Someday I’ll write about what that internal struggle was really like.

Despite the struggle there was something about her. I remember calling my best friend one day, who was at the time the worship leader and a youth leader, that I felt like she would be the girl to make me lose this battle.

So I kept it to myself. Until one day she calls to say she has something to tell me. I thought she had perceived my feelings and wanted to confirm her suspicions or something like that. But as she spoke I realized it was the other way around. I eventually got it out of her, she had feelings for me and hadn’t found a way to say it before. For the first time I’ll admit, that was one of the best feelings. Hearing those words. But I played it off, told her we should pray and seek friendly counsel from my best friend since she was ‘a good Christian’. We did, but it didn’t work.

Very soon we were everything but an official couple, and this we kept to ourselves. But almost everyday we spent together. FaceTime in the morning before class, text during class/work, call to see how each others day went, drive to get something to eat, some nights I’d sleep over her place to cuddle until I had to race back home to make my 8am class. If I didn’t stay over, by the time we were home we’d FaceTime until we fell asleep just to call back in the morning. I had never been in love before and this to my finite knowledge was what it felt like. Some nights we’d grab pizza late at night and sit at the nearest park talking under the stars. It was the most effortless relationship I’d ever experienced.

Soon enough we confessed our love for each other and I was convinced I’d never find anyone like her. The joy I felt with her I’d never felt before. It was overwhelming. Being a Christian, loving God and following His way was supposed to give me that experience. It never had.

Although everything was under wraps I could sense we were losing the ability to keep it to ourselves. I think we got so lost in each other we weren’t conscience of who was around. Plenty of times I had friends pull me aside to ask me what was up. I knew they weren’t the type to judge, but it was easier to play it off as nothing than to confess to myself that I had lost the battle. But the one person you can never run away from is yourself.

Even so. I tried. I ran, just not fast enough.

But that’s all for now as they say. Until next time, please do me this one favor today:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

How 2018 Kicked My Ass Pt.2.5

I can’t continue the story.

At least not until I write about the year 2017.

As I started writing part 3 I caught myself leaving bits out purposely, partly because they don’t make as much sense without context, and partly because I haven’t built up the courage to say it all. Once I talk about it, I’ll have to talk about the most personal aspects in my life. My thoughts. Things I’m still learning to understand, pieces I’m figuring out how to communicate. Things I usually keep to myself.

So I’ll write it as it happened and provide clarity where I feel it’s necessary

We’ll take a brief pause and get back to the royal ass kicking of 2018 at a later date (maybe by just before New Years to leave it all behind)

For now, we’ll begin what I’ve entitled “Year 17’:The Worst Year of My Life”

But that’s all for now as they say. Until next time please do me this one favor today:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF

How 2018 Kicked My Ass Part 2

I had always planned on moving to Germany since an exchange trip I’d taken to Dresden in Uni. Dresden itself is very traditional, a breeding ground for Neo Nazis, and almost all German, no foreigners. But on that trip we got to spend 3 days in Berlin and ever since then I knew I would come back. I attempted to move there in 2017, but as you know that was a horrible year and I opted to move back to the states (I was living in Hong Kong at the time) instead. Again that’s a story for another time.

One positive note I should make is that my father whom I had only met for the first time a few months prior paid for my flight. 2018 was rough but I don’t want to miss speaking of the people who seem to have popped out of nowhere to extend their help in miraculous and incredibly generous ways.

With my flight paid I moved to Berlin. At that point I had just developed a social media project called We Ain’t Shit (@we_aintshit on Instagram) I wanted to move to a bigger and foreign city that would allow for the project to grow. My plan was to work as an Au Pair for 6 months to a year since it was the easiest way to secure an immediate visa to stay and work in Germany. During this time I would spend my off hours working on the project and developing the business in order to secure a freelance visa.

But as I’ve come to learn, good things never come easy.

I could tell from the moment I met the family that I wasn’t going to stay very long. One of the first nights I was told to instruct the oldest girl (7 years old) to wash her feet. When I did she asked me why and I told her because they were dirty and needed to be clean. She replied “Your skin is dirty”. Now I’ve worked with children a long time. Long enough to know that when a child says something like that it stems from the parents. So I knew I had my work cut out for me.

As the days went on the family slowly started adding responsibilities that weren’t in the contract and I found myself working twelve hour days, cooking, cleaning, and washing clothes, weekdays and weekends. But I’m the type of person that will endure tough situations if I believe it serves a greater purpose. I needed that job, I needed the time to secure another visa. So I put up with it, back home everyone believed things were going well because that’s what I told them. But then came a barrage of incidents that I couldn’t let roll off my back and is why I left a few months ago.

A conversation started with a few friends of that family about marriage and kids. The husband had called to wish his daughter from a previous marriage happy birthday but she hadn’t answered for the fifth year in a row. Maybe out of shame or embarrassment he turned to me and said aloud “That’s still better than you, you probably don’t even know your father.” I wish I could tell you I didn’t shrug it off, that I put him in his place, but I didn’t. And I wish I take that moment back. Not saying anything doesn’t display politeness, it promotes ignorance.

A few weeks later, the wife made a comment about black people being ghetto which I didn’t let go. Her defense was “That’s just what we say in Germany.” And while Germany does have a deep rooted history with racism I can tell you that her statement isn’t true. That’s not what they say here.

At a dinner party, the father made a mess and in front of the guests said it didn’t matter since I would be cleaning up after everyone. And it was true, I had to clean up after everyone, everyday after every meal, any outing, any occasion. If there was anything to be done it was my responsibility. Soon enough to the kids I was a maid, which showed anytime they were asked to do anything they’d look in my direction and say “Why doesn’t she do it.

The list goes on: despite being bilingual they only spoke English when giving me instructions for the day. I was excluded from family conversations, never was there an interest in me except to know if I had completed the chores for the day, and if I asked for time off except for when I faked an emergency, they complained and added more work when I’d come back.

I put up with all of this while staying in a closet (yes a closet) in the basement.

So I left. I packed without saying a word and left and I’ve never seen them since. I was afraid to leave convinced I hadn’t had enough time to secure a visa, that I’d either end up homeless in Berlin or penniless back in America.

Neither of the two happened, I managed to get the visa, an apartment, and a great job while continuing my projects. But in true 2018 style, nothing came easily.

But that’s all for now as they say. Until next time, please do me this one favor today:

Love Yourself.

Sincerely,

ASF