When Did We Move Away

When did we move.....away?

When did we move when we stood next to each other

dancing to the sounds of our culture,

standing tall on the earth of our heritage, my brothers, together in unison.

When did we move.....away?

When they captured us and put us together like livestock,

 no my fault, the livestock traveled better than us.

Our value was less than the hoofs of a calf and our soul was collective

 as we were layered on top of each other,

sharing sweat, pain and bloodless tears.

Holding each other, as men we gave ourselves permission to be human,

shedding tears in each other arms, holding on to each other even when the spirit had left the body, my brotha was free.

When did we move.....away?

Was it when we stood in line, our manhood sold off to the highest bidder?

My shoulder pressed against yours, my hands holding yours, saying be strong brotha, no matter what, be strong.

 I let you cry, you let me cry. We cried together as stolen men standing on stolen land.

When did we move.....away?

When we stitched our strength together and told them no more.

When they arrived in covered sheets trailing blood stained ropes of our brothas behind them?

When the air of unjust laws was pumped in our chest and the value of our worth was less than the dirt that covered our bare feet.

Yet we were still rich as you called on me and I could call on you. 

My brother.

When did we move.......away?

When we walked together looking for the Promised Land.

The jagged teeth of dogs tearing into our flesh,

the sting of the water feeling like thrown needles on our back,

our face,

our lives.

I never left your side because we knew we would overcome and that no matter what we endured we would not be undone.

When did we move........away?

When we stood together, our fists pumped in the air. We took care of ours and didn’t expect anything from anyone whose afro didn’t fit the roundness of the moon.

Say it loud........

I’m black and I’m proud.

Say it loud.........

I’m black and I’m proud

Say it loud.....my brotha

When did we move.......away?

When we endured history’s wraith as one.

When did we move....away?

Was it when the white snow started to fall in our neighborhoods, crystallizing in needles replacing lost dreams to only disappear into our veins.

Was it when we saw the door was left open and the fathers of fathers started to walk through them, away from the cries of a young mind?

Was it Reaganomics, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell or the weapons of mass destruction that made us come undone?

When did we move......away?

From each other, my brotha

My......

Nigger

Or does it really make a difference when it ends with an “a”

The spirit of my ancestors tell me it sounds the same as his last breath is drowned by the gathered crowd that finds sport in each swing his neck makes on the bitter tree.

Yet now we use it as our glue of endearment, attempting to claim ownership of it, when we don’t even try to own our own dreams.

When did we move......away?

Are you talking to me nigga?

Who you looking at?

You got something to say.

You got beef?

You stupid whack ass nigga. I should smoke your ass.

……and when will we come back.

Time For a Tune-up

If you own a car you're familiar with a tune-up. Each season or if your car hits a certain mileage point, you bring your car in to change the oil, have the tires checked and get new plugs. The interesting thing about this is that we do this for a car, a material object, yet many of us don't get a mental health tune-up for ourselves.

Speaking from my own experience, I recently had this cloud over me. It seemed to follow me everywhere, maybe dispersing for a day or two but then re-emerging. I just knew I was not my usual self. I was moody. Sometimes I would cry for no reason and overall just feeling like I was on auto-pilot. And it didn't match what was happening for me personally as I was finding success with my school of which I'm seeking an advance degree, and as an actor I was working on TV/movie sets and even played a principle part in a show that aired nationally. So what reason did I have for feeling blue?

In the back of my head I knew I needed someone to talk to as I recognized the symptoms of depression from having it before. I knew it meant seeing a therapist as throughout my years, I've seen several for various length of time. But this time I figured I would self-care by reading inspirational books or writing my feelings down or waiting until it went away. I was going to do whatever I had to do to not see a professional.

Maybe it was the stigma? Maybe it was pride? Maybe I just didn't want to admit I needed help? Yet when really looking at my situation, although I've seen professionals before, I had to ask myself, "What's wrong with getting a tune-up" What's wrong in talking out whatever is holding you back?

We manage our health with our meds and other forms of stress relievers but when it comes to our mental health we don't want to walk through that door. We want to bury our heads and pretend it's not there. For myself I wanted to get my car back into the fast lane. I wanted to get my oil checked and new spark plugs and my tires kicked.

To do that I had to ignore any shame and remind myself that it takes a strong person to look at their demons and confront them and not run away from them. I also had to remind myself that getting a tune-up doesn't mean I'll be seeing someone for years. For me it feels like it'll just be a few months. But its knowing that after those few months I'll be back on the road in a healthy state of mind. 

Maybe that's why we don't seek a tune-up. We know that we're taking out old parts (the past) and replacing it with the new (the future) And for many they don't like change. But just imagine where your life will take you if you shift that car into drive instead of spinning your wheels and never moving, stuck in a rut?

So yes I am seeing a therapist once again, even with all my successes and I have no shame. And even five or ten years down the road I may need another tune-up. But if I can give my car a tune-up then why can’t I? The investment will pay off and I'll be in a better place knowing I'm in motion and I'm driving myself to wellness!

Changing of the Guard

Today I had an adjustment moment of change that took me off guard. I was going to my clinic for my check-up and as I've been going there for the past five years. Whenever I entered I was on auto pilot.
As usual I waved and said hello to the security guard who I knew by first name and proceeded to the elevator with my destination being the third floor. When the door opened and I saw unfamiliar faces at the reception desk, I wondered if I hit the button for the wrong floor. But no it was my floor. Everything from the desk to the furniture was the same; it was the people that were different.
The diva came out in me when they asked for my name and my medical card. What! Show my id. The nerve, where is so and so! But the reality was that so and so had moved on and since this person didn't know me from Adam, I relented and gave up my information.
One of the unfortunate aspect of having HIV for a long period of time is that when it comes to your healthcare, you pick out a place that you feel comfortable going. You start to create relationships. Not just with your doctor but also with the entire staff. It's like a comfort food. You know it will always be there. it makes you feel good to see familiar faces. Yet when staff makes changes and leave for other positions or opportunities, it throws you off balance.
Last year I went through it when the doctor I saw for five years announced to me that he was leaving for an out of state opportunity. a wave of emotions wash over you as you process what you just heard. Outside you're happy for their new adventure, but inside you're screaming, NO!!!! You're my doctor what am I supposed to do now? how can you leave me!
After calming down and realizing it wasn't all about me, he let me know who would be replacing him. Yet at that moment I didn't care how good he was and how highly recommended others felt about his knowledge of HIV. I didn't want to start over with someone new.
Usually I have no problem when it comes to change but when it comes to opening myself and creating a relationship of trust, you don't adjust so easily. Adjusting to a new doctor is never easy. This is the person you shared things that sometimes you don't even tell yourself all in the sake of getting good treatment as a good doctor is never judgmental with the information you share. Yet the truth of the matter is that just like other folks with jobs and careers, they eventually move on. And although they move on you still have your HIV that needs managing so you have to come to that place of acceptance.
Yet breaking up is hard to do especially when you're on the receiving end of the information. You go through denial, then anger, then acceptance. A relationship between you and your doctor is such an intimate aspect of your care and it's understandable why someone like me would be resistance to the changing of the guard. Although they have all your information on file, there's still something about starting over.
Yet I can't stress this enough, it's not personal, it's part of life, people move on. You have to adapt and although it may take awhile, as I can attest, give the new doctor a chance as you still have to manage the one thing that hasn't change, your HIV status.
Since the time he left, several nurses who I was also on a first name basis left months later and like before you have a sense of sadness but wish them well in their new ventures.
It's been a year now and the doctor I'm seeing has passed the test, so I'm open and honest with him with all details of my life as it's the only way you can get adequate care. I knew that no matter how I felt about the new guy, by not giving him the full story, even if it sounded like I was repeating myself, it ultimately came down to my health.
After 25 years of having this virus, I've been through several doctors so you’d think I wouldn't have any separation anxiety. But I'm only human and I do. And I know that the doctor I'm seeing now will eventually move on and it's that knowing that will make the change so much easier to swallow!

Running To Sobriety

"They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, "no, no, no"
Unfortunately for Amy Winehouse that decision cost her her life along with the monkey on her back as she battled her addiction to drugs. Although Amy was not gay she reminded me of something that many people go through. The fight to stay sober. Most write them off as addicts or crackheads. Not realizing that for many they face a fight that, for the person outside, we may judge or dismiss as having no value, yet for those living with drug addiction it's a battle with demons that are not easily destroyed.
And for those living with HIV it's more of an issue as you're adding another element to your battle.
I have personally never had that battle but I've been witness to those who have. Friends with HIV and also drug or alcohol addition and their struggle to reach up and get out, only sometimes to get sucked back in.
Although it was not my shoes that was in the struggle, my heart was there with the people who had to take each day one by one, working their way to a place where the drugs was buried underneath their renewed dreams. And most impressive was knowing that the cloud of HIV still hovered over their head, yet they still saw a promised life.
One person who has inspired me is a man living with HIV and who took the steps to fight his addiction to meth.
His name is Simply Rob
A name he goes under as he spreads his words of wisdom through the power of spoken word here in NYC. He freely talks about his past and weaves it in a poetic blanket that he shares with anyone willing to listen.
When talking real talk about his fight with meth, he brings awareness to his story as he describes an incident, one of many:
"I can think of a few instances when I should have died while I was getting high on Crystal Meth. The first being when I shot up with Crystal Meth for the first time. I felt a warm tingling sensation crawl up my left arm, into my chest and when it hit my heart I felt as if I had been kicked so hard that it knocked the wind out of me. I couldn't breath. I remember thinking I'm going to die, then leaning back in my seat in preparation to pass on"    Simply Rob
That first time led to a fifteen year battle in addition to the 18 years of being diagnosed with HIV.
I personally don't know what I would have done. Especially knowing that 18 years ago I was in the closet about my status. What would my addiction have looked like? How could I join a group and only give them half the story or how could I find my way to recovery when the stigma of having HIV would impede my recovery. You could say I'm one of the fortunate ones but for others they have that decision to make.
You are not alone and it bears repeating.
Like Rob there are many others who are either in this battle or in their days or years of recovery. The gift Simply Rob shares is that he's not selfish with his recovery. By sharing his story he lets others know they're not alone.
Right now like last year he's preparing to run his way to sobriety. As part of the NYC Marathon he's chosen an community agency that helped him with his battle, a place that gave him hope. He's not only talking the talk through his poetry, but walking the walk or rather running.
I run up the subway stairs and think I'm going to die, but Simply Rob runs around the city of New York City and feels renewed. And he runs not alone, although when you're struggling with addiction and HIV that's how you feel, alone.
I write to inspire as does Simply Rob, but also I'm taking this time to recognize the unspoken heroes who may feel their steps have no value because of their addiction.
Addition doesn't always equal death, it can also mean life. You just have to run to it and not away from it.
Just Simply ask Rob!
http://www.harlemunited.org/teamharlemunited/runner.php?marathon_date=201111&runners_number=300