Tonight at work, a woman sitting at the bar with three of her friends said, “Do you also work on the floor?” I said yes, that I worked both the bar and the floor. She said, ” You waited on us. Over two years ago. We’ve been back since a few times but not seen you. You were so wonderful- I had the tuna and my husband….” She went on, but the point was, she remembered me. Yes, she is a stranger, but for two years I’ve stayed in her mind, close enough to call upon the minute she saw me.

Say what you will, you black-wearing, black-feeling, black haired naysaying motherfuckers. There will always be you trying to make me hate me. You were more plentiful in Los Angeles, but you are everywhere I will ever live. Belive what you will- believe that I am full of shit, believe that I’m half a person, believe that I believe that the world owes me something. Believe that my self worth lies in the eyes of others, particularly men. Believe that I should “slow down”, stop “doing so much in my life”. Belive that I am an okay scratching post for your fears, your jealousy, your self-hate, your lost dreams. Believe also that you have the right to tell me exactly how you feel about me.

But know this: my life is richer, harder, darker, and more wonderful than your happiest moment. I don’t waste my blackness on the void that is you. My blackness, my truly knowing myself, allows me to leave the dark side at home rather than share it with the negative, pathetic, self-loathing likes of you. My life is a hundred times harder than yours and it is because of that that I can look you in the face, feel your black mindless hate, and laugh and ask you how your day is, how you are feeling, what’s going on. And smile and move on when you grunt because you can not bear my presence.

There will always be you. But better yet, there will always be me. Think what you will, breathe your poisonous dreams at night, suffer because you can’t hate me enough. But… suffer more, because you WILL NOT GET ME DOWN.

Not for good, anyway.