Shower Curtains

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم



As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beloved Asiatic Black Bebies!!!

I just thought of something this morning I could write about that is in line with the homemaking format of this blog!!!

That really made me excited because I still think about that.

This is SUPPOSED to be a homemaking blog.

At least, that is the title.

Even though when I started it, my intention was to get you to read Message To The Blackman in America by The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him). As that is THE most important thing we can do in this time of the end of this world as we know it.

However, personally, I had to read another book before I was ready to read Message To The Blackman in America.

So, I thought I would start the blog as maybe a prerequisite to someone else reading Message To The Blackman in America.

I realize how powerful a book it is and that some people may not be ready for the life-changing effect it can have on your life.

So, I started a homemaking blog as my first priority is Blackwomen and helping Our Beloved Messenger in his duty of delivering the Message of Allah to our people.

But anyway, when I first got a place to stay in New Orleans, I was really taken by the attention to luxury in the home. I was staying in a transitional housing unit and this aspect of decorating was noticeable even in the face of such privation.

One of the things that stood out was that the shower curtains consisted of both a curtain and a liner.

Now, I was familiar with the concept of the dual layer shower curtain, but being from L.A., Idk, it never seemed to matter.

But now I am living in my SECOND transitional shelter and this one also has the dual shower curtain. The first transitional housing unit also had a fancy stand for the toilet paper which I know is due to the French roots New Orleans is built upon.

As homemakers, we are responsible for providing a comfortable and relaxing atmosphere in our homes for our families to enjoy and this is a small detail that can make a big difference.

Of course, rugs and decorative pictures go without saying, but adding a liner to the shower curtain adds a nice touch and also makes so much sense!

The liner stays inside the tub and the curtain hangs outside. That way you don’t have to worry about it being outside when you take a shower and water ruining your home!

Simplify your life and save yourself the hassle by purchasing liners for your shower!

Image result for shower curtains

*side note*

I was so dissatisfied with the images for shower curtains that came up on Google, so I G’d mansion bathrooms because I knew I had seen some nicer bathrooms than the ones that came up.

But the ones that came up for mansions, don’t even have shower curtains. They all have glass doors. So, just to give you a little something to look forward to… 😀

Image result for mansion bathroom

I love how SPACIOUS this next one is. (below)

When I shower or bathe, it’s like a ritual.

You know ABLUTIONS are big for Muslims. Five times a day at least. I may take two showers a day. Or a shower in the morning and a bath at night and another shower in the morning. It’s spiritual.

Ablutions are like prayers. We are not only cleansing our bodies, we are asking Allah to remove and forgive us of any sins we may have committed with our bodies since our last ablution.

So, needless to say, the bathroom is like my sanctuary. I HAVE to have music. Candles are nice. Incense too. Lavender essential oils are essential. 😉

But, because I spend so much time in there, I would really love a bathroom like this.

I have been known to lay down on the floor and take a nap on my bathtowel after getting out of the bath. I get so relaxed. LOL

Anyway, check it out!

Image result for mansion bathroom

That looks like it could be a pantry, which would also be cool because you know I take snacks in there with me. Frfr. 😛 Maybe even a microwave or oven would be cool too. I could bake cookies while I’m in there. No joke. I would.

I keep my bathroom clean enough to eat out of.

M.G.T. are instructed to clean the commode after every use. And I get down on my hands and knees and CLEAN.

This How I Do!

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

Okay, okay, okay, I’m gonna be honest.

The REAL reason I like how spacious that bottom bathroom is, is because I like to dance in the bathroom too.

And sometimes, I can get a real modern dance “FAME” like type of a groove going on, doing “splits” and kicks and taking up a whole lot of room. I would love this bathroom for that option.

Yeah, I know. Sometimes, I can be really honest.

But admit it. That’s why you love me. 😀

btw If you take a shower or bath and get out and parts of your body are not wet, you cannot call yourself clean.

Captain’s Log ٣

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم




JANUARY 28, 2017 7:26 A.M.


Al Hamdulillah!



I went to the Union and they took my bed ticket AGAIN! That’s four times in less than two weeks!

So. Our teacher and leader and guide, The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah Forever Be Upon Him) Taught us that if someone doesn’t want you there, find somewhere else to go.

So, since they keep taking my bed ticket, I figured they really don’t want me there.

So, I tried to get in another shelter. But, they didn’t want me there either. So, I found a place outside, but I really didn’t want to sleep outside. So, I went back to the U, and got in.

I slept in a different place.

I’ve been in the chapel so far.

I like it because it’s a chapel and it made me feel close to ALLAH.

But Allah is everywhere I am. So, I was cool in the new place.

They threw me out this morning. :/





Whenever I’m out in the cold


Somewhere Uncomfortable



It makes me feel better.

It reminds me of our poor ancestors who used to sing to make themselves feel better.





was a code worded song slaves used to use to alert other slaves on how to successfully attain their FREEDOM.

“The Drinking Gourd” was the Big Dipper.

“The River” was the Mississippi.

I think “Dead Trees” means dead bodies. 😥 😥 😥

They used to sing them like Negro Spirituals.

Most people don’t listen to lyrics in songs.

So, we could deliver secret messages and the slavemasters and overseers would not be privy to what was going on right under their racist noses.

I remember my daughter used to make up songs and sing them when she couldn’t tell me how she felt.

Music is a wonderful form of expression





Delivering Coded or Subliminal Messages


image.pngبسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum My Beautiful And Beloved Asiatic Black Brothers & Sisters

A few years ago someone told me that a college professor told them that his students couldn’t read handwriting in cursive. She said that when the students saw cursive handwriting they asked, “What is that?

This shocked me, but I didn’t really believe it until my son told me recently that he is the ONLY person in his whole school (High School) who can write in cursive. He’s known for it around campus. I homeschooled him and made sure that his handwriting was beautiful and perfect.

In The Holy Nation of Islam, penmanship is crucial as it is one of the most important means of communicating our thoughts and IDEAS.

Whenever an important business transaction takes place, it is made official by SIGNING YOUR NAME.

I knew the devil taking cursive handwriting out of schools was detrimental but I didn’t realize how much so until yesterday when I was debating with a Brother on Facebook.

He reminded me that to join the Holy Nation of Islam, one is required to write a letter in PERFECT penmanship. And if it is not PERFECT the letter is rejected and membership is denied.

By the devil removing cursive handwriting from his schools, he is imposing yet another obstacle in front of our children towards their progress and ultimate success.

I am still surprised at the magnitude of their evil and I know them better than anyone.


I will never forget when I learned how to write in cursive. My teacher spent two weeks just preparing us. We had to spend about fifteen minutes every day just making swirls on the paper. I hated it at the time because I didn’t realize how crucial it was to the beauty of our handwriting. Everyone in my class has compliment-worthy penmanship.

It is worth the time and effort to prepare your children before attempting to teach them how to write in cursive. Have them make connected circles and curvy lines before you actually begin forming letters and words. Like so:


This will ensure their handwriting is beautiful and more importantly, completely LEGIBLE.

I had no trouble writing my Saviour’s letter and it was only returned because I abbreviated Blvd. But the next time I wrote it, I didn’t include any abbreviations and it passed with flying colors (whatever that means).

Here is a website I found that offers free downloads for cursive tutorials.




* * * *

Benefits of good handwriting include:

  • increased brain activation;
  • improved performance across all academic subjects, especially in language activities such as spelling;
  • providing a strong foundation for higher order skills.

Devils Prey on Blackwomen

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

In the Name of Allah, The Beneficent, The Most Merciful

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum My Babies

I’m only writing this because our Brother Jayson said he looked forward to daily updates and my daily activities are so peculiar that I might as well share.

Yesterday, I was forced to go to this laundromat that I did not want to go to.

But the customer service at the other one was so bad, I figured I would at least give it a try. Actually, the owner kept telling me not to come back. And although, I know he would not have refused my money if I kept insisting on giving it to him, my teacher, The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) taught me well.

While MLK and his followers were forcing devils to serve them in their restaurants, the Honourable Elijah Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) taught his followers not to suffer such humiliation as hoses and ketchup being poured upon you, and go and open your own restaurant.

Furthermore, sitting next to them in their restaurants does not make you their equal. It is still their restaurant/bus/school. In order to be EQUAL, you have to own what they own.

So, this other laundromat is right next door to this 24-hour restaurant that I had pictured as a pick-up spot for hoes and in L.A., laundromats are also pick-up stops for hoes so since they were connected I figured they would be owned by the same people.

But I had had reservations about Family Dollar and ended up loving it. So, I decided to stop going where I was not wanted and give the old restaurant/laundromat a chance.

Sure enough, there were dining booths in the laundromat, which I kinda dug because I like comfort. As well as a menu. There was kinda like a buffet/take-out next to the laundromat and a dine-in/sit-down restaurant next to the buffet.

So, the restaurant is named after a Blackwoman, so naturally, I wanted to meet her. I asked one of the employees who she was and she pointed to the big, muscular white devil who had been following me around. He looked like a Marine.

I was like, “Okay, maybe they just gave him a Blackwoman’s name for some reason” and went on about my business.

So, I put my clothes in the washer and go to the bathroom. There was a sign on the door for the employees and it said the employees were not allowed to wear dresses. But 99 per cent of the employees were Blackwomen.

So, I asked the Marine “Why is that?” (Hey KRS 😉 ) and he said he didn’t make the rule.

This caught me by complete surprise because I was under the impression that since the restaurant was named after him, he was the owner. Total confusion there.

So, I began my interrogation and came to find out that this restaurant was commercializing off the name of a “dear family friend.” He said the owner was actually his uncle and that no one had ever asked about the “no-dresses” policy before but after listening to my reasoning about how women should be able to wear long dresses and skirts to cover our legs he said he would talk to his uncle.

I was not interested in the policy anymore but wanted to hear the story of how the restaurant came to be named after a Blackwoman.

He didn’t want to talk about it anymore and I told him to his face, you just named it after a Blackwoman because you know we can cook and it would get you more business.

This establishment was making beaucoup money and I bet the Blackwoman they named it after didn’t get anything but name recognition. No profits. Not even a Second-Line.

So, I’m doing laundry and this young Sister and her brother come in. The Brother leaves and I go talk to the Sister. She had on too much make-up so I start by telling her how she is the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in New Orleans, but I saw the beauty underneath all that make-up, and so on. Encouraging her to be her natural Black self.

She turned out to be just like me. Brains and Beauty and Body.

She told me that those party buses are ALWAYS children in them and you have to pay about $2.oo to ride it. They last for about two hours and stay out as late as one o’clock in the morning. I think they even pick you up at your house.

She said she would never ride one but in New Orleans children grow up really fast.

The music was really good there, most of it, so I changed my clothes and washed the clothes I had had on too. I only have two changes of clothes so I have to wash my clothes every day: wear one, wash the other one. It keeps life simple.

But while I was there I got to talk to beaucoup Black people and tell them not to carry their clothes in trash bags. I noticed a lot of people did that out here. I told them we are too good to carry our clothes in garbage bags. We are Gods and Goddesses. Not garbage.

So, I really didn’t have anything to do and was just going to hang out and listen to the music and talk to Blackpeople, but there was this one Brother who came in with his head wrapped and I knew immediately he was gay. But he took it off so I thought maybe not.

But, he came and sat at my table, so I sat down and started talking to him about the workbook I had noticed him carrying. He was studying to take the pharmaceutical test. I asked if he went to the local community college and he said no, he was just going to take the test.

I admired that. Devils always try to put every obstacle in our way to keep us from succeeding. Permits, tests, rules, regulations and whatnot just to try and discourage us from advancing.

I wanted to be a judge when I was about twelve. My mother told me I would have to be a lawyer first, and I was like forget it.

King Solomon was the wisest judge who ever lived and he didn’t have to be no lawyer first!

America. SMH.

So, we started talking about the music and I asked what was his favorite type of music and he said he didn’t have one. I said “Everybody has a favorite” He said, “I don’t.” I thought that was clever and I noticed he wasn’t wearing headphones like everybody else I meet. So, I asked him what was the last song he was listening to in the car. He said he was listening to the radio. Then I asked what station was he listening to. He said Q93 or whatever it is. And I know that to be the young folks station. I was just happy he was listening to Black music.

So, then we start talking about his tatts. He said they were for his parents. One was a symbol I didn’t recognize and he said it was a zodiac sign. I’m Muslim and we don’t believe in the stars predicting our future or present. We control the stars. They don’t control us.

He had a name written on it and I read it. He said it was his mother’s name.

Then I asked about his other tatt which was congruent to the first one. I asked if it was his father’s zodiac sign. He said no, it was his. So, naturally I asked where was his father’s. He said his mother and his father had the same zodiac sign.

I didn’t think to ask yesterday, but I should have asked why wasn’t his father’s name up there too then?

So, he mentions that he has a “partner” and I know that’s a code word for homosexual lover. So, I started telling him about how he’s going to be destroyed if he’s homosexual because Allah is wiping that wickedness off the face of the earth.

So, he says, ‘Well, I’m just going to have to be destroyed then.”

It’s so hard to give up on people, so I just took that as my cue to bounce, made sure he had the title of Message to the Blackman in America and broke out.

Dropped my clothes off and picked up Lucille (my bike).

So, I went to this Jewish place to get some vittles. The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (PBUH) taught us in How To Eat To Live that the food of the Orthodox Jews is good for the Muslims and vice versa because they don’t eat prohibited foods like swine.

But, they HATE me. The first time I went in, the Hebrew Israelites were standing around reading the Bible out loud and I laughed because they were in the devil neighborhood. I said, “This is where ya’ll meet?” LOL But after I went in and learned that it was owned by Jews, I understood completely.

So, the big Jewish man behind the counter saw me and wanted to pick a fight. I was worn out but still beat him. He asked me “Who was Jesus?” I guess he thought I was a Christian because my answer kind of surprised him.

He was boasting that Jesus was from Jerusalem and I corrected him by saying, “Palestine” and told him that Jesus was a righteous prophet of Allah.

Then he points out that the man behind me in line was Jewish too. And the man repeats my answer, “Jesus was a righteous prophet of Allah.”

And I was like Puffy, “Take that!

So, then I go outside and one of the Hebrew Israelite Brothers tried to “educate” me, seeing me in my M.G.T. uniform.

“You know you’re an Israelite, Sister, right?”

I said, “Yeah, I know. We’re the Children of Israel.”

They kept trying to debate with me. But I agreed with them. The so-called American Negroes are The Children of Israel. It’s just that the Muslims know that Allah is God.

So, then they start talking about how we’re supposed to wear fringes on our clothes.

These brothers had on purple t-shirts with gold fringe on the bottom. I have debated with Brothers in what looked like S&M costumes. LOL So you know they were like chump-change. I got ’em so bad that when I left, they left. Wanna-be Jews. If you only would read and believe Message to the Blackman in America it would put you on top of civilization at once!

Also, I ordered some food. They left with their heads down, empty-handed.

They used to appear rather successful in L.A. but time makes all things manifest.

T-shirts. SMH

So, the food was so good. And good food is so hard-to-find in New Orleans, I went back the next three days in a row.

The second time, the big Jewish man’s son was behind the counter and I’m used to greeting people in their own language, so I gaily walk up to the counter and say, “Shalom!”

Why did he almost bite my head off?

Some people are possessive when it comes to their language. I met a little Mexican who didn’t like me and Hakim speaking Spanish. But most of the time people respect that I took the time to learn their language. It’s diplomatic, ya heard?

So yesterday, I couldn’t WAIT to get my baba ganush but they made me wait about five minutes before even coming up to the register. He told me the kitchen was closed because it was Sunday. All they had was sausage pizza for the Niggers in the neighborhood.

I was pissed off but I was starving and it is so hard finding food that won’t kill you in America. So, I just decided to get an avocado. I try not to carry cash because I just end up giving it away, so I handed him my debit card. He said there was a $5.00 minimum.

I sighed and went to the ATM. On my way back to the register, he was acting like he was sweeping but was actually following me around. He was right there when I went to the ATM too.

So, I looked at the floor and it was spotless. I told him to go ahead. He said, “No, you go ahead.” So, I was like forget the avocado this is too much. I told him I would take my money elsewhere. He seemed a little disappointed but said, Yeah, maybe you should. Then he tells me about another Mediterranean restaurant over on Frenchmen Street. I was so hungry I almost went. But I didn’t believe the kitchen was closed so why would I go on a wild goose chase looking for some restaurant a lying devil told me about?

I tried to get a couple devils to go in and order it for me but I don’t trust them either.

So, I got Lucille and we rolled through the Treme’.

I saw a little boy leaving his house and this is one of those apartments that don’t have a backdoor and they really creep me out. And he looked kinda little, so I started following him and we struck up a conversation. I knew he was going to the store because he had a dollar in his hand. I told him to put it in his pocket.

He had his ear pierced and I told him that was for girls but he could always take it out. He had little twists but he said his mother WAS NOT going to cut his hair. I laughed and said, You know that already, huh? Then he surprised me by saying she would take him to get a haircut. I laughed at my faux pas and was happy that his mother was not as stiff-necked as most of the other Blackwomen I meet with sons about cutting their hair.

So, he walks into the store and I’m outside sitting on LuLu and here comes Jew, Jr. telling me to leave. I told him I was waiting for my little Brother. Then he looks in the store and sees him and looks at me like he knows I’m lying, but all Black people are Sisters and Brothers. Then my little Brother comes out with an ice cream sandwich.

I asked him if it was a dollar. He said, $1.35 or $1.65, I can’t remember. I asked did he get any change. He said no. I should have talked more about math but I was more interested in him. He seemed so little to be walking to the store by himself. I thought he was about in the fourth grade. I asked him what grade he was in. He said Kindergarten. I was like “What?!!!????!!!!”

Then I thought maybe he started school late or something so I asked him how old he was. He said, “Six” I could not believe it.

I said you must be almost seven. When is your birthday. He said November. I said November what? He said third. I said, “You just TURNED six?!!!!???”

But when we reached the corner, Allah Told me to let him lead me. So, I was about to cross, but I looked at him and he stayed put. Then I looked and saw there was a car coming.

The Blackman is God.

I asked him if he could go to another store. He said the other ones were far away.

Duh. Six years old and making more sense than me.

So, I ride down a few yards and I see some Black twenty-somethings sitting and standing outside this house that I had only seen devils occupying. It was a beautiful house and I had noticed it several times so although something (probably them) told me to keep it pushing, I stopped and told them I had only seen devils there before.

They were getting high off weed.

There were two who looked like Brothers (light-skinned, possibly mulattoes), a brown-skinned Sister with what looked like lightly bleached hair slicked down to her scalp, and another brown-skinned handsome attractive Brother.

They did NOT want to talk to me.

But I love a challenge.

So, one of the high yaller Niggras said The Honourable Elijah Muhammad’s (PBUH) name and he said it so funny, I was offended. Then I realized that they had Louisiana accents too. I don’t know why I expect the rich looking Black people to talk “white.”

So, he tried to get rid of me by telling me there was a woman across the street who would love to talk to me. But instead of leaving I went across the street and knocked on the door. There was no answer so I sat on the porch and started reading my Miles Davis autobiography like I was waiting for her to come home.

I could hear the Sister trying to “educate” them about Islam because they clearly knew nothing. So, I yelled, “If you want to learn about Islam talk to someone who knows!”

Then she shut up.

Naturally, I started harrassing all the devils (calling them devils and giving them the finger), then the police roll by. I stuck out my tongue at them and gave them the finger too. I’m from Bompton. NWA, foo.

They started laughing at that.

So, then their upstairs neighbor, who probably called the police, came downstairs and started talking to them. So, then I said as loud as I could in my whiteman voice, “Do you guys know that Nigger over there?” “Who is that new Nigger?” Then he started waving his hand like he was blowing smoke away and I said, “I told ya’ll stop smoking” Even though I don’t remember if I did.

So, I thought of a place I could go get something to eat and decided the lady wasn’t coming and went back across the street to tell them bye.

The brown-skinned Brother was so cute, I couldn’t help but flirt a little bit.

I asked him if he could turn on my lights. I have lights in my wheels. SMH One of the high-yallers got jealous and said I’m not supposed to be talking like that. LOL I was like, “Please, Brother, I can’t reach it” I love playing the damsel in distress role.

But he just got angry and said I was “disturbing his peace” and since he used the word peace which is what Islam means, I respected his wishes and let him know that was the only reason I was leaving.

So, I was heading toward the spot when I neared Congo Square and heard the drums. I thought I would roll through and show them my new wheels.

Their Drum Circle is not even a circle though. It’s a half-circle with a donation box in the middle. *sigh* Even the Afrocentric Black people in New Orleans are nothing but coons.

So, I roll into the park and I see this pre-teen beautiful Black Sister on a bike, then I look and she’s with this old white devil with a PIG on his t-shirt. Nothing else. Just a filthy pig.

I was speechless. But I felt so protective of her! I approached them and almost couldn’t find the words. I blurted out, “Why are you with him?”

She was speechless too for a minute then the devil blurts out, “What kind of question is that? You’re so evil!”

Then she finally gets out, “He’s my piano teacher.”

I immediately have flashbacks to some T.V. show I had seen where the white piano teacher was molesting his Black students and couldn’t get that out my head.

I said, “You are not supposed to be alone with a devil! You are supposed to be with your own Black people. Tell your mom to get you a Black piano teacher.”

 Congo Square was forgotten and I started trailing them.

I just wanted to make sure she got home safely so I stayed far enough back for them not to be too concerned however, they knew I was there. 

 She had on a Treme’ t-shirt and I had asked her if she lived in the Treme’. She said “Yeah” So I figured we wouldn’t be going too far.

They stopped in front of the Candlelight something or other. A music joint that I had passed several times. Once at night when it was finally open and saw too many devils to interest me in entering. I never felt any love from the Black people I saw there either. At least not the Sisters.

So, they stopped there and he gives her his phone.

I yelled out, “Yeah! Call your Momma!”

So, they stand outside and I go in. I had been wanting to see what it looked like inside for a long time. There is a lot of history in that area. One of the Sisters starts giving me grief about Lulu but I just wanted to take a quick peek.

The devil and the girl move across the street to one of the shotgun houses but they don’t go in. They just put the bikes up and come back and sit on the porch. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I asked about the devil and the little girl. And didn’t that make them uncomfortable. Where was her mother? She told me someone had been there earlier arguing about the same thing. I was like Good. She said you just can’t do anything about it. I said, Yes you can. You can stop making them feel so welcome here. You let one in next thing you know they’ve taken over.

So then, I notice there’s no piano. I thought that was very unusual for a music joint in New Orleans. Pianos are everywhere. Even the hospital has a piano!

So, the old lady who owns it told me the devil across the street brings his piano. A keyboard. I hate keyboards. I like acoustic. But they’re cheaper and easier to move around.

But most music spots have a baby grand.

I looked inside another music spot in the Treme’ The Little People’s something or other and again, no piano. I’ve summed it up to music in New Orleans doesn’t need a piano. Pianos are for straight-ahead jazz, not Second Lines. But I play piano and sing, so I like to see them.

So, eventually my little Sister’s mother arrives and I approach the vehicle. She’s standing at the window probably telling her about me, and she says “My mother’s right here”

So, you know Blackwomen of all ages are my specialty so I couldn’t wait to talk to her. Was I surprised to meet an intelligent beautiful Black woman with no make-up and all natural hair!

She was matriarch to a family of beautiful Black girls. Four of them. No boys though. I told her every Blackwoman needs to have, at least, one son, so keep trying. But her girls were all clean, neat and well-groomed. And the one riding shotgun had a peeled tangerine in her hand! So, you know I mentioned something about that. I love seeing Black people eating fruits and vegetables.

She told me they had just picked them off of somebody’s tree and they had a whole bunch of them. Do you know how rare it is to get fruit fresh off the tree? I had to have one and I ain’t to proud to beg for something that’s going to give me life. They blessed me with a hand-picked tangerine. And I am eternally grateful. You know how hungry I was!

So, then this Sister who had been sitting in her car across the street came over and one of the girls greeted her. I handed her my Message To The Blackman in America and she walked around to the other side of the car. I was like pass my book right on back to me through the window, Sister.

They get you in Nawlins. Somebody got me for my tablet/bluetooth keyboard and my cell phone (two different people) at the same time. So you cannot let them touch your stuff. They will casually walk away and you won’t realize it’s gone until after they are. LOL

But I don’t trip too hard on material stuff. It’s easily replaceable. I look at it as charity. 

The first pillar of Islam is BELIEF IN ALLAH.

The second pillar of Islam is PRAYER.

The third pillar of Islam is CHARITY.

The fourth is FASTING.

And the fifth is PILGRIMAGE.

So, I didn’t trip yesterday when, after they had left, I was sitting across the street in Tuba Fats Square and the O/G walked off with my Miles Davis autobiography. I was a little disappointed that I had got got yet again, but at least it was by a O/G.

I looked at it as fine-tuning my hood survival skills.

But the next thing I know I see him coming around the corner with my book in hand.

I was eternally grateful because I really wanted to finish reading it. And I ordered that one online before I became homeless, so it would be hard finding an address that it could be shipped to.

So, I’m sitting there chilling with the frienemies (because you can’t trust nobody), and this Brother catches my attention. He was carrying a black bag. The O/G tells me he’s a trumpet player. And I love musicians, so he gets in this car and I run up to see if he has an embouchere and he has a little one.

Next thing I know another Brother with a trumpet comes up but he doesn’t have any valves. So, I ask him where are his valves? He starts getting real defensive. I can’t help it. I have a degree in broadcast journalism and am naturally inquisitive.

But I saw him later and he had put them back in.

So, I’m just chilling with the homies and Lucille and they put up a sign on the house directly across the street from the Candlelight.

Soon after, music starts playing.

Then I see this guy with a plate of take-out and I’m still hungry so I go up to him to see what he’s eating and ask about where he got it.

Then this big guy gets out the car and acts like they’re supposed to be sharing the food. I was like two grown me sharing ONE plate of food? Then another guy comes up and I figure it’s about me more than the food so I walked away.

After the other two left I went back and I asked him if I could have some french fries. So he reaches in, grabs a few and hands them to me. I thought about I don’t know WHERE his hands have been so I asked could I get them myself. He said he doesn’t know where MY hands have been. I said, “I have on gloves!”

He still said no. So, I asked him to save me some but I think he wanted us to eat together so he was like, Nah.

So, the guy with the trumpet was sitting there with me and O/G and another guy comes up, picks up the trumpet and starts to blow. Man, Allah Chose the right instrument to usher in the judgement because things started happening and he wasn’t even really playing!

Then I see the big guy with a Tuba and the next thing I know music is coming from the street in front of the house with the sign.

You think it’s a big deal to sing Happy Birthday Stevie Wonder style at your birthday party! These brothers swung it like I had never heard before (or never paid attention to) Then they started playing some song right up my alley about EDUCATION and BUILDING OUR NATION, so O/G turned his “Security” jacket inside out and let me wear it and we walked over to the music.

Now, cars had been coming down the street and I figured the band would just move and let the cars through but when I got there I realized how DISRESPECTFUL that was of the musicians and I stood in front of the cars and wouldn’t let them through.

Some of the women were trying to get me to move out of the way to let the cars through. I said, “No, make them back up!” 

So, I started waving my hands gesturing for the cars to back up and do you know they all backed up?!!!!!?

I’m from South Central too. You know how we do!

So, then the band could start moving down the street like a Second Line is supposed to.

The trombone player had his little girl on his shoulder, and I danced up the street next to them, waving my Message to the Blackman.

The sign had said, “Happy Birthday” so I’m thinking the Brother up front in the wheelchair, giving directions is celebrating his birthday. So, I go up to him and try to hand him my Message To The Blackman and telling him to Google it but he wouldn’t even look at it.

So, the Second Line returns to the house and the band goes inside the Candlelight, but I didn’t want to go inside because I had seen some devils in there. So, some people were still out in the street and this car pulls up. Again, I stand in front of it and tell the driver to back up. He wouldn’t move.

Next thing I know, the Brother in the wheelchair rolls up and starts telling me to move. I said, “No! Make him back up!” Then he starts talking about how he paid for all this. I didn’t get it. I said, “All what?” But he didn’t say. He said the birthday party was for his Brother or somebody who had gotten killed a few years ago. I don’t understand why they have birthday parties for dead people. Yes I do. They think the dead person is up in the sky somewhere and can see them having a party. But death settles it all. Anyway, he just kept trying to get me to move. So I started showing him my Message To The Blackman and he said, “Man I don’t care about that!” and reaches toward his waist.

I still wouldn’t budge. Then he reaches toward his waist again. I’m not afraid of nothing so I didn’t move.

Then the band comes back outside and the car couldn’t move. 

I started dancing in the street in front of the car and the wheelchair guy rolls on across the street.

I think he would’ve shot me if Allah didn’t have power over all things.

So, that was about it.

I still didn’t like that devil being so involved in our stuff.

They tried to tell me he owned the park I was sitting in. Even called him over to make me leave. He didn’t do nothing.

I know why Black people are so afraid of devils but with the help of Allah, Islam will remove that fear from them.

Thank you for reading.

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum

❤ ❤ ❤


بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beloved and Beautiful Asiatic Black Family of the Aboriginal Nation of the Planet Earth

Peace Be Upon You

What I am about to tell you is the hardest thing I’ve had to write about in a long while but In sha Allah, I will be able to do it without too much difficulty.

Last night, Saturday, it was about dusk, and I was riding my bicycle through the Treme’, the oldest Black neighborhood in the country. The devils have always used every means at their disposal to divide the Black community and one of the means is by building freeways or expressways through our communities.

There is an above ground freeway that cuts right through the heart of the Treme’ and now, where there was once thriving Black businesses, community gatherings and success, there is now homelessness, prostitution, and drunkenness.

I had reached this area when I heard some music. Naturally, I went to see where it was coming from because there are a lot of brass bands that play here and I love the music.

Brothers and Sisters, I would not have believed what I saw if I had not seen it with my own eyes.

In New Orleans, they have these Party Buses, which are old school buses, in which they have installed loud music systems, blacked out the windows and painted bright colors.

I had seen them many times on Canal near Bourbon Street and used to wonder how anybody with any decency could board one of those traveling vehicles of debauchery. I would not even allow myself to imagine what took place on those dark enclosed spaces.

I found out last night.

The music was coming from one of these buses that had parked under the expressway aforementioned.

Outside and on top of the bus where little black girls, aged from about nine months to twelve years old, twerking.

I had never seen anybody twerk before but I figured that must be what they were doing. Wait, yes I have, in jail. But I wouldn’t watch.

All I saw were Black men standing around and putting the little girls on top of the bus.

I stood, unable to move with disbelief.

They saw me in my garment and I knew I was supposed to go over there but I hoped they would stop when they saw me. They didn’t. The adult Blackman put one of the little Black babygirls on the hood of the bus so I could see her better.

I was in a state of shock and furious.

These were supposed to be their protectors and they had our beautiful babies out in the public acting like strippers!!! All I could think was where were their mothers?

But it gets worse.

I crossed the street towards them and saw some of the mothers sitting there on their cell phones and some of the girls had dollar bills pinned to their clothes and in their hands. They were counting money.

They were giving them money for dancing like strippers!

I asked one of the Brothers what he thought those little girls were going to be when they grew up.


He backed away from me.

Some of them stopped but others didn’t. They stood up on this little seat encircling one of the freeway’s foundations and started humping it.

I was livid but I just took off my glove and smiled and started shaking the little girls’ hands.

I told them to always remember that they were ladies.

The adults got mad and told me don’t talk to the children. I just held up my Message To The Blackman and told them they could read it online.

Then ANOTHER bus pulls up and more women and little girls spill out.

I put my lock on my bike and started talking to the new arrivals.

After awhile they realized I wasn’t going to leave so the Brothers from the first bus started re-boarding my beautiful little Black Sisters back on the bus. Soon the second bus did the same and they both left.

I sat there in the aftermath stunned and saddened that so many parents would allow their little girls to participate in such debauchery. I wondered if they even knew.

School buses that were made to deliver our beautiful babies to places of learning and EDUCATION being used to promote stripping and thus prostitution. How could they do this to our FUTURE? I just thought about this but they probably have to pay to ride on the bus. Maybe.

I would love to have access to all of those little Black girls. I would teach them how to sew and cook and love Allah and Black people.


That would be my dream.

But in New Orleans, this was the reality.


بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaam-Alaikum Beloved and Beautiful Asiatic Black Family

These past few days, I don’t know what it is in the air, but I think it’s love. I have been extremely reflective and pensive and since I’ve also been kinda broke, I’ve been fasting and it has given me deeper insight.

I don’t really go out anymore.  My Zawji wants me to stay home. It’s safer and he’s right. I went out one day when I wasn’t supposed to and it was horrible. Even when I AM supposed to go out, like today, it was horrible. I feel so uncomfortable with strange men being able to feast upon my beauty like I’m some cheap whore. I really am going to do my shopping online and have it delivered because even going to the store now is becoming too much.

But I digress. These past few days, well starting right before the end of last month – August 2016 (for some reason I’ve noticed I get very emotional and reflective, very sensitive and thoughtful at the end of the month, probably because we’re entering a new time period and change is inevitable) – I started, no, I began right after I visited my therapist on the 17th.

I started seeing a therapist to help me get over my father molesting me. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I won’t be able to get justice from anyone other than Allah and I have to take medication until I’m better able to cope.

I took medication regularly for about fifteen years (1999 – Dec. 2013) always knowing that there was a reason for my mental disability, but my father – the reason behind my chemical imbalance – was ALSO THE REASON WHY I KEPT TAKING THE MEDICATION INSTEAD OF GETTING TO THE ROOT. He was adamant about me taking my medication and also constantly in my business when I would visit my doctor. Now I know he was trying to keep the truth of his guilt from being made manifest.

However, in 2013, I told my doctor I wanted to get off the medication and he started weaning me off of it.

For one, I did not want to take medication for the rest of my life and two, I needed to find out what was at the root of my PROBLEM. Every problem has a solution but you must get to the ROOT of the Problem before you can solve it. I DIDN’T KNOW YET MINE WAS/IS MY FATHER.

Eight months after I completely stopped taking the medication (Aug. 2014), as I had expected, I suffered from a massive psychotic break (nervous breakdown) and I came to realize that the cause of my mental illness was due to my being molested by my father when I was very young.

I think he may have been molested when he was young because one of my cousins made it known that my grandfather (his father) had molested her.

I am believing that this curse has been handed down in my family since slavery. As with every other ill facing the Black community, incest is a product of our devil Caucasian slavemasters.


But we are living in the day when the veil of falsehood MUST be removed and the truth made manifest. I know for a fact that mine is not the only family that suffers from incest. Many families have that “uncle” that molests the little girls and/or boys. But NO ONE EVER DOES ANYTHING TO STOP HIM and the children grow up abused and suffering from dysfunction.

Until we, as a Nation, deal with this demon in our homes we can never heal.

Acknowledge the truth if/when the victim confronts you and take responsibility for your inaction.


Stop denying that the MOLESTATION IS TAKING PLACE and ACTING LIKE nothing is going on. IMMEDIATELY TELL THE PERPETRATOR TO STOP!!! Let him know that you and everybody else knows about his abominable behaviour and if he doesn’t stop you are going to get together and beat his you-know-what. You should beat his you-know-what anyway for the acts the he has already committed and for the sanity of the victims.

Please talk to the victim and let him/her know you know what is going on. He/she may not even realize they have been or are being molested like me but if you see questionable behaviour – SPEAK UP!!! WE MUST PROTECT OUR CHILDREN. THEY ARE OUR FUTURE!!!

If you are a child molester, ask Allah for forgiveness. Our Beloved Messenger, The Honourable Elijah Muhammad (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah Forever be upon him) taught us that there is no sin that is unforgivable. The only thing that is unforgivable is this: that you will not accept Allah as God and not accept His Messenger as His Messenger. These two things are one, we say, the belief in Allah is the belief in the Messenger or the Prophet of Allah.

Seek professional help and get to the ROOT of your problem. There is always a root cause for any dysfunction. YOU MUST SEEK PROFESSIONAL HELP. Therapy and maybe medication will help. Acknowledge that you have a problem and seek the solution before someone kills you.



We must stop being cowards. Our children deserve to be protected. Save our future generations from degradation and preserve their innocence. It is a shame that I even have to write this. But I have visited a teen support group at a local High School and I was floored by how many of our young women have been molested by a family member or family friend (mother’s boyfriend usually). Almost the entire population of Black girls.

But when they told their parents, they said they didn’t believe them. I believe they didn’t WANT to believe them. Fear of accepting responsibility and protecting our children has caused this abomination to be handed down from generation to generation.

Abuse MUST be treated so it will not be repeated. But first it has to be acknowledged. At the very least, remove the victim from the culprit’s reach, if you are not able to get justice. We must protect our children.


After my psychotic break, I did not resume the medication. I also never sought therapy and as a result, was hospitalized several times over the next two years.

This last hospitalization (July 2016), I decided that I don’t like being hospitalized and in order to prevent it from happening again, agreed to resume the medication.

My Zawji convinced me to seek professional therapy also and to take the medication until he tells me I don’t have to.

I was lucky to find a Blackwoman therapist. I have to have a Blackwoman. Devils are unfathomable (I can just see them making mockery of me). Members of other races don’t relate and I have issues with men, so I could not see anyone but a Blackwoman.

I went to see her and I was deeply intuned to the spirit world that day. But I opened up to her somewhat and the session was going very good.

I realized that I have never gotten over the fact that I’ve had so many abortions. FOUR. And that that was the purpose of that visit. To face that fact.

Before becoming Muslim, I did so many things that I am ashamed of. But Allah is so merciful that He doesn’t even bring them up and it is actually a sin for Muslims to talk about their shortcomings.

The only reason why I am writing about this now is to prevent you, My Beloved Brothers and Sisters, from making the same mistakes.

I know you’re out there getting pregnant, My Little Sisters (and you are making them pregnant, My Little Brothers). If you are pregnant, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT ABORT IT. IT WOULD BE BETTER TO GIVE IT UP FOR ADOPTION. There are ways you can do this without having to cut off ties completely unless you want to. But why would you want to?

Of course, abstinence is the BEST and RIGHTEOUS route, but if you are already active please stop and obey the Divine Law of Allah and WAIT until you are married. It is safer and better for your physical, mental and spiritual well-being to be celibate. Encourage your children to remain virgins until they get married. Don’t be ashamed to talk about it. Don’t assume they are not going to have sex. Tell them to focus on getting an education and acquiring the skills they will need to support a family (boys) or keep house and rear children (girls). Teach them not to have boyfriends and girlfriends. They have no need for them until they are ready to get married.

This is the the Best prescription to build a healthy and productive Black Nation. We must start with the physical, mental and spiritual well-being of ourselves and teach our babies self-respect from the cradle.

Our Beloved Messenger, The Most Honourable and Humble Elijah Muhammad (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah Forever Be Upon Him) wrote in Message To The Blackman, that if you have an abortion, you will regret it for the rest of your life and I bear him witness.

Maybe not right away, but one day you will wake up to what you’ve done. Probably around the time you go through Menopause, like me. And, you realize you will not be able to have more children. You will regret the one(s) you aborted immensely.

I would have had six Black babies.

I also had a miscarriage, so actually seven.

Growing up, when I was a teenager, I always wanted seven babies like my Grandmother.

But I listened to my boyfriend and after the first one it was easier.

I didn’t want to. I was sixteen but I still wanted the baby. He didn’t. And I ended up marrying him! Sisters, if your boyfriend or husband wants you to have an abortion, he is not the one. I don’t care what happened in the movie, “Baby Boy.” He doesn’t love you.

The mistakes of our youth are carried with us for the rest of our lives. I ignored the first red flag, and every one after until about five years, physical abuse and one child later, I finally left him for good. I went through one bad relationship after another trying to find the love that I had lost due to pent up emotions.

Brothers and Sisters, pent-up emotions are the worst thing you could ever hold on to. Face them and deal with them or they will come out another way and possibly ruin your life.

So these past few days, I realized that I had made the biggest mistake of my life due to emotions that I had pent-up.

My soulmate told me his mother was putting him in a different school and he was smiling when he told me this. (circa 1986)

His mother doesn’t like me so I knew she was taking him out of our school to get him away from me. She even moved her whole family out to another county to keep him from me. But no man can tear asunder what Allah (God) Has Joined Together. Not even the ones He’s joined.

She probably told him that it was a better school since it was in a white neighborhood and he would have better opportunities so he would think it was a good idea and be happy about it.

He thought he had me no matter what anyway, so why not be happy? But I proved his mother right.

Some Black people love white people MUCH more than they love their own Black people. As hard as it for me to imagine much less believe. However, I had a roommate once, who was my Zawji’s mother’s doppelganger and she told me that when she was growing up her family taught her to stay away from Black people. They were no good. White people were the only good people.

I had never heard anything like that in my life and was completely astounded. This from her OWN FAMILY!!! BLACK PEOPLE!!! But I’m sure this is what my Zawji heard growing up from his mother who had heard the same thing.

I still don’t understand how you can tell your child to stay away from people who look just like YOU and HIM!!! But it just bears witness to the poison that the devil has put in our people – TO HATE OURSELVES AND LOVE THEM!!!

I really see it down here in the South.



So, my soulmate was smiling while he told me this (he was going to a new, white school) and my heart was completely broken. He was in a good position it seemed. I don’t think he ever knew how broken-hearted I was until I e-mailed him yesterday and told him how I felt.

I never told him nor anyone else how devastated I was about his leaving. I mean how could I?


But anyway, he was obviously okay with it.

I wanted him to miss me. At least be a little sad. I wanted him to hold me and tell me it would be okay. He would come see me at school. And at home. And we could go on loving each other. But I never got that.

I never got to express my feelings of despair and grief and just went on like nothing. I never got to be sad about his leaving. Never knew why he was happy about it.

I was hurting inside and probably angry. But anger is a secondary emotion. Hurt was the main problem. And I never got to express it or let it out. Never even brought it up – much less talk about it. So it came out in another way.

I ended up cheating on him without even realizing what I was doing.

I guess I wanted him to say “Why are you with him?” or something! Trying to make him jealous I guess. He never said anything – TO THIS DAY.

I didn’t think it out or plan it, it just happened. I’m just now analyzing what went down.

I didn’t even realize I was seeing the both of them at the same time until last year when I did the math. I remembered I had a job and he walked me to it, but the other guy used to pick me up. So I had to be seeing them at the same time. It’s hard to admit even now.

He told a Sister at my school, who was dating the other guy I was seeing (SMH – Los Scandalous), to ask me if I wanted to switch boyfriends with her, since we were already seeing each other anyway. Most likely hoping I would wake up and see what I was doing.

My heart was broken further still. The way she said it made me think he had already made up his mind to be with her so I thought I was going along with him when I sadly agreed.

I ALWAYS do what I think will make him happy – effortlessly.

I never knew how he found out about the other guy until almost twenty years later. He just, all of a sudden, never wanted to talk to me again. I guess I wasn’t saying what he wanted to hear.

All I ever really wanted was him. Always have. Always will.

That’s probably why I refuse to get with someone else now – just to make him jealous. It didn’t work then.

I thought when he went to the new school, he would leave me for a white girl. He didn’t but I never knew until now how deep white supremacy has permeated my subconscious.

He didn’t get with a white girl until just a few years ago.

Whenever a Blackman or woman abandons the members of his/her own Nation in favor of a member of  the race of our enemy it is the most treacherous betrayal that one can commit.

Our Beloved Messenger (May the Peace and the” Blessings of Allah Forever Be Upon Him) taught us that traitors to our race should be “killed without mercy.”

We would be well within our rights if we killed every traitorous Black person who sweethearted with a member of our enemy, the devil Caucasian race.

But Allah, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises Are Due Forever, is showing them Divine Mercy by not killing them (all of them) just yet. He is giving them time, however, if they do not reform from their wicked ways before the destruction of this world (which is overdue) comes, they will go down with the devils.


So now, he has a devil girlfriend and I am dealing with my issues of devil supremacy. All things in due time, Al Hamdulillah! All Praise is due to Allah!

Anything that doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.

I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. My life doesn’t make sense. And I really don’t know if I’m writing this more for me or for you or for him or for Allah’s Sake. Probably the latter because that encompasses all of the above.

Anyway, thank-you for reading.

In the Name of Allah
As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum,

Your Sister,
~ LOVE ALLAH ❤ ❤ ❤