❤ ❤ ❤
JAMAL: THE DAY YOU WERE BORN
ALLAH (GOD) SAID,
“SHE’S YOURS,
TAKE CARE OF HER
LIKE SHE’S MINE.
SHOW HER YOU LOVE HER.
ON YOUR 46TH BIRTHDAY,
MARRY HER
AND MAKE HER YOUR QUEEN
FOR ETERNITY!!!”
ان شاء الله
الحمد لله
الله أكبر
LOVE: THE DAY YOU WERE BORN
ALLAH (GOD) SAID,
“YOU’RE HERS.
SHE HASN’T BEEN BORN YET;
BUT, WHEN YOU SEE HER,
YOU’LL KNOW HER.
AND, ON YOUR 46TH BIRTHDAY,
SHE WILL BECOME
YOUR QUEEN.”
ان شاء الله
الحمد لله
الله أكبر
❤ ❤ ❤
Why did I see my son’s doppel yesterday? OMG he looked EXACTLY like my IBNI! I would have hugged and kissed him, but his accent. That’s the only way I knew it wasn’t him. He looked EXACTLY like my son without his glasses. That is Allah’s (swt) Way of letting me know he’s alright. 😥 I miss you, Hakim. I know you see my Doppels too. I hope they look alright and not too crazy. 
😛 I’m doing good, Brother. 😀 This Brother was seventeen! But he was no bigger than my Ibni (13). And looked just like my Zawji! I wonder sometimes if I could be wrong about his father……. ijs Ya’ll remember what I was like back then……. #onone But, “Thanks for OUR child, Zawji!!!” 😉 😀 ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ Sorry Angie, but he should’ve never been with you in the first place. MaKayKay is MINE (Ours, rather). We’re happy that you’ve moved on, Sister. 😀 I think I told ya’ll they’re trying to get me in the Illuminati. And how all these Secret Societies (Illuminati, Boule, Masons, Fraternities, their Sister groups and the Voodou people too) are all part of the same Secret Society that is controlled by the Jews. Well, the other day, confirmed my belief, when I happened upon a Masonic restaurant and a paraphernalia store next door, but it wasn’t just Mason stuff it was GREEK stuff too. Aha! But honestly, who cares?
I AM AN M.G.T. & G.C.C.!!!
THE GREATEST ORGANIZATION
FOR WOMEN IN THE UNIVERSE!!!
*flips headpiece*
Anyway, In Sha Allah (If It Pleases Allah), I Will Be On Local Radio Station WBOK AM 1230 (OMG I just realized that’s KGJFs old address!!! 😥 I miss them. KDAY too…)
Anyway, if you’re in Nawlins, I’ll be on at 7:45 tomorrow morning (Thursday, October 8, 2015) when they do the business spotlight on the morning show, promoting “this.” 😉 #heyRakim! 😀 And if you’re in L.A., there’s a two-hour time difference so, cheah, up for FAJR, then listen to ya girl. Ya heard? 😛
This station WBOK is part of the Bakewell Media Company and I’m like, I know it’s not Danny Bakewell! But he is one of those “high-yaller” so-called Negroes and could very likely be from Louisiana. I am usually right about these things but was too much in shock to ask when I was at the station. Let me google it.
That Brother is on a whole ‘nother level!
#gottaloveit #whoknew? #TRAVEL!
HERE IS THE LINK! 😀
❤ ❤ ❤
Somebody posted something about Sister Donna in this group I’m in on Facebook, and EVERYBODY AND I MEAN, EVERYBODY said she looks just like Kelly Rowland. I agree. #beautiful #RBGs
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
❤ ❤ ❤
Scurry on little Lizard,
My Bibi’s on his way
To take me over to Congo Square
And show me off all day
We’ll walk together hand in hand
And dream of travel to distant lands
One day soon, don’t you agree?
If you don’t, then you’ll soon see!
My Bi, is going his Queen make me
And, HE’s the BEST a KING could me
So happy we’ll, especially me, be
Knowing I have someone
To Rescue ME.
To handle things too much for me
On Whom Allah Told Me To
Always depend
My Rock of Jamal-ter
My Faithful Friend
My One And Only
My One True Love
There is no other
Whom I Can Think Of
Or Can’t Think Of
Who Could Ever Replace
My Zawji’s Grace
And Tender-Sweet Love
That I’ve Never Felt
And Never Dreamed Of
But This Is The Day
When the Truth Becomes Manifest
There Is NO GREATER LOVE
To This I Can Attest
So, Scurry on little Lizard.
My Bibi’s on his way
To take me and Court me
And soon his Queen make me.
We’ll sit on the levee
And watch the Sunrise.
He’ll fall on one knee
And look deep in my eyes
The answer is “YES!”
Always, “Emphatically YES!”
“There is no other Brother
You are the Only Best.”
The Long Wait is Over.
Here Comes My Bridegroom.
So Dashing, So Handsome
And as Bright As the Moon.
He’s Humming a Tune
And SMILES WHEN HE SEES ME
I rush out to meet him
He joyously greets me.
Together we turn
Toward Congo Square,
And all of the music and dancing
And Black People there.
Friends and Family
Awaiting Their King
Filled With Joy
He Finally Won His Queen!!!
❤ ❤ ❤
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY TRUE LOVE!!!
I LOVE YOU!!!
❤ ❤ ❤
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
As-Salaam-Alaikum Dear Sisters & Brothers!!
Who Dat? I always knew they said that out here in Nawlins’, but never knew why. I thought it was from some movie where I think Fats Waller said, “Who dat say who dat when I say who dat?” Or something.
But, I noticed sometimes when I go around groups of people, someone would sometimes blurt out “Who dat?” And once these people were about to fight and one of them said, “Let’s wait until the police leave!” Talking about me!
It’s kinda hurtful when people don’t trust me, especially my own people. But I’ve been accused of being an agent online before, so I just ignore them now.
Lately, I’ve been letting my appearance do the talking for me anyway. I’m getting ready for marriage. So, I just let my garment speak for itself and just answer questions from those intelligent enough to ask. Just Black People, of course. I’ve been iggin’ devils for daze.
But today, I went to this area where a Brother informed me I could find an inexpensive apartment near Congo Square.
I was disappointed. It looked neglected like Central City and there were far too many devils for my taste. Nevertheless, it beats being homeless. So, I took down some numbers.
Then, I got to a main street and was going to turn back. I don’t like living on main streets, but for some reason I end up there. Zawji reminded me I’m homeless, and don’t have the luxury of being choosy.
So, I’m seeing nothing but devils in an area where there are banners on the light poles celebrating the 250th anniversary of the Oldest Black Neighborhood in America!!! Da fucc? I was instantly pissed. It was turning out to be one of those daze.
Everybody seemed to be uptight anyway and I got really fired up.
I had just seen this Brother in Congo Square selling T-Shirts celebrating Tremé – The Oldest Neighborhood for people of color”
That part right there!
I was like BLACK!!!!!! JUST SAY “BLACK!!!!” THAT HAS BEEN A PET-PEEVE OF MINE SINCE I FIRST CONVERTED TO ISLAM. IT’S OKAY TO SAY “BLACK!!!” BLACK IS THE BEST!!!! DON’T FEEL ASHAMED TO SAY “BLACK” AND NO, NOT “BLACK-ISH” 😡 BLACK AND PROUD!!!!! DAMMIT!!!!! SAY IT LOUD!!!!
I went in on him. Poor Brother.
So then, I’m walking down the busy street and I see a For Rent sign. It was a two-bedroom for $1800. I laughed out loud! There were more condos and street cafes designed for and by devils than Black People in THE OLDEST BLACK NEIGHBORHOOD IN AMERICA. GTFOH
And then! I see two devils filming this Brother. First I think, he’s a News Reporter, but I’ve never seen a reporter with TWO cameramen. So, I asked him what they were filming. He said something, I can’t remember. Probably something like a documentary or something. So, I asked him how did he become involved with the project. He said they were just stopping people on the street. But, I didn’t believe him because he looked like he had dressed for the occasion.
Then, I tried to tell him, he shouldn’t be taking devils around our community, especially on film because it’s just going to attract more devils. He started trying to defend himself and I turned around and that devil had his lens all up in my grille.
I told him I didn’t consent to being on film but devils think they can still do as they please. So, I just tried to convince my Brother to try and preserve something for his own kind then the devil said, “That’s racist!” So, the Brother started in on that part.
Eventually, I got fed up and walked away but I turned around and they were still filming me so I walked directly up to the camera and stared straight into the lens,
“Beloved Black Americans, read MESSAGE TO THE BLACKMAN IN AMERICA by The Honorable Elijah Muhammad (PBUH). The TIME OF SEPARATION from our Devil Slavemasters Has Arrived. Their time is up but we have the opportunity to be saved. We must do something for self and give the devil back the chains of mental slavery that keep us in bondage to him – His names and his dirty religion of Christianity. We must go for self. Stop intermingling and intermarrying with them or you will become deserving of Hellfire as they are. The Time Has Come To Go For Self. Google Message To The Blackman in America and read it online for free. But stay away from Louis Farrakhan!”
Or Something Like That……..
So, the devil was trying to interrupt me the whole time, but I igged him. Then the Brother comes back, so I tried to talk to him some more. But, when he said he had already read Message To The Blackman, I knew that there was no hope for him so I just gave him the greetings and broke.
I stopped at the store to get my daily rations on the way home, and was walking past the cashier and the line ( ) on my way out the door, when I overheard the cashier tell this older cat he was till a little short, as I walked past with my bag full.
I thought to myself, “My ancestors paid for everything in this bag. The owners of this store and the manufacturers who make this shit don’t even have to work. All they do is sit back, buy and sell companies and count money. They pay their slaves barely enough to get by just like in the days of physical bondage. All we can afford is food, clothes and shelter and we have to go back to them to buy it, just giving the money right back to them! Shiiiiiiiid, my shit is more than paid for. They owe me! 400 years of FREE LABOR!!!??? And this Brother can’t even afford a fucking CANDY BAR!!! So, until ya’ll designate some land wherein we can provide for ourselves the necessities of life, which you are obligated to do after we BUILT this country for you FOR FREE, under your brutal and merciless hands, I’ll just take this leather-bound journal and these vittles as collateral. Thank-you kindly, Ms. Security Guard, You have a ‘blessed day’ too, Muthafucka! PEACE!”
As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beloved Sisters & Brothers
So, I’m living in New Orleans where the majority religion is by far Roman Catholicism. I have discovered that Roman Catholicism is the WORST form of Christianity there is.
Our Beloved Messenger, The Most Honorable and Humble Elijah Muhammad (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah forever be upon him) taught us that in the Bible (Revelation) The Pope is referred to as “The Dragon” that gives power to “The Beast” which symbolizes America.
The Head of the Roman Catholic religion is referred to as a DRAGON.
Ever since it happened, and especially since I’ve been living here, I have been asking Allah over and over WHY? Why would He let or even cause something as devastating as Hurricane Katrina to affect a whole city that is, from what I’ve seen, majority Black?
Well, today, My Beloved Darling Zawji Told me it is because they are Roman Catholic.
Then, I thought about it. New Orleans has very close ties to Haiti, which is also predominantly Roman Catholic and almost entirely Black. Well, a few years ago, Haiti was hit by a very destructive earthquake which destroyed the entire country not too long ago.
Here, in New Orleans, they are still collecting donations for the children of Haiti and when I asked why help Haiti when there are children in need in America, I was just told that they wanted to help Haiti. Now, I know it is because of the close ties between New Orleans and Haiti, both being colonized by the French and sharing the religion of Roman Catholicism.
My Beloved Brothers and Sisters, PLEASE Give the devil back his religion and join on to your own kind before Master Fard Muhammad, to Whom Praises are Due Forever, decides to send another warning that the time of worshiping Him in any way you see fit is up.
ACCEPT YOUR OWN (Your own God – Allah, Your own Religion – Islam and Your own People – the Black Peoples of the Earth) and BE YOURSELF (A Righteous Muslim) before it is too late.
As-Salaam-Alaikum
So yesterday (when I wrote this), I finally made it to Congo Square. I figured I had better hurry up and go because Allah (God) Might W…. oh yeah, Zawji said Stay until his birthday (October 22). But I went anyway….
Most of the articles or events or whenever I heard of Black-life in NOLA before I moved out here, talked about the famed Congo Square and how it was a meeting places for the slaves in New Orleans.
So, naturally, that’s the FIRST place I’m looking for as soon as I stepped on the scene. Nine out of ten Black People I asked, when I got here, had never heard of it. And the one that did, couldn’t tell me how to get there. One Sister did pull the address up for me on her Smartphone.
She was a fashionable Afrocentric “Sistah” (one of my Doppels) and I was very surprised when she couldn’t tell me where it is. She looked like Leimert Park folks and I was given the impression she would go there all the time because it’s like the Leimert of NOLA from what I hear.
Whenever there are Black Cultural events, they always have them in Congo Square. I did run into a Brother who looked like Leimert Park folks. I almost didn’t approach him because he looked kinda “touched”, but I did and he was happy when I mentioned it (Congo Square). He asked me, “What are they having there tonight?” Which really encouraged me.
Some people knew it as “Jackson Square.” That really upset me. CONGO Square!!! Let’s use the ABORIGINAL name, please!
When I got there, I learned that they had built an ENORMOUS park around it and put up a hundred foot neon lit sign that reads ARMSTRONG PARK.
Of course, the devils would much rather build a monument to their #1 coon, Louis Armstrong, than a memorial to their brutal history of Slavery.
When I got there, they were in the process of filming a movie in the area, so I helped myself to Craft Services. Allah (swt) Provided me with my One Meal of the Day. Allahu Akbar! Allah is the Greatest! No fear! No grief! No anxiety! No stress! No worries! When you submit to The Beneficent.
So, while I’m chatting it up with the crew, I notice a devil sitting very still on a bench. I don’t why why she captured my attention, Maybe because she was the only other person I saw in the park (I think. I don’t remember.) Or maybe because she was sitting down on a bench.
I love sitting on metal filligree park benches. For some reason they remind me of my Zawji. I can’t for the life of me, remember why. I know we must’ve spent time on a park bench, but I don’t remember where or when.
Okay, Zawji told me we used to eat our lunches together on a park bench that was on our school campus. I can picture it but I don’t remember it.
So, after I had my fill… Oh, a Brother and his wife were working there, hauling maybe. They wanted to make sure I got a good meal (I didn’t ) I asked him if he was a Mason. He said, “Yes.” I knew it because only the Masons own their own businesses. I told them (She was an Eastern Star) “Stop telling people you’re Christians.”
We are living in the day and the time when the veil of falsehood MUST be lifted and the Truth Made Known.
So, I didn’t get an omelette because I haven’t been to a brunch in a long time and I forgot how to do it. You’re supposed to pick your ingredients and give them to the chef. But, I looked at the slim pickings and decided, “Nah” they weren’t good enough.
I wish I had let the O.E.S. intermediate for me. Oh well, I had a bomb glazed honey-bun type of donut, a cup of pure milk and a nasty frap. But I’m not complaining. #grateful FOR THE MILK. I also came up on a honey bear too. So, you know when I got home it was on and crackin’! #milk&honey. #youdonthavetowaituntilyou’redead 😉 #gettinitin!
For a while, I had been wanting some yogurt. So, I happened upon the New Orleans Mission the other day. It’s just like the Missions on Skid Row. First, you MUST sit and listen to some Christian preacher poison you with slavery teaching – LIES. Then and ONLY then can you help yourself to the food that the donors have given them for us.
So, of course, they have a “Program.” Those programs are the most vile and hateful things they could have ever resorted to to try and help people. But they’re devils. What else would you expect from a race of devils?
I RUN when somebody starts talking about the “P” word!!!
So, I get there at 10:52, but one of the “P” Brothers told me I couldn’t get in until eleven.
So, this Brother said he had some plums from breakfast, in his car. That almost sold me to the program. Finding fresh produce while you’re homeless is like finding a precious Black pearl down in the ocean hidden deep in the dark recesses of a remote oyster. But you can find chips and cookies and soda and “snacks” on every corner.
They love oysters out here. I like them too, but now that I know better, I do better. I just tell them, I don’t eat anything that lives off of filth itself. But you know what, on three separate occasions, I have just been walking down the street and came upon a foot-high stack of oyster shells, strategically placed. I think it’s some hoodoo stuff. Prolly Zawji trying to tell me something. 😉 ❤ ❤ ❤
So, then I see the Brother’s car and I’m like “Nah, only pimps drive Cadillacs.” With the exception of the Escalade and the pick-up. So then, I ran.
And, I got in line, then they tell me to go on up to the front. I was immediately suspicious, but obeyed. The women go first. I follow the Sister ahead of me past crates of food stacked so high, they towered over my head, some of them.
They were receiving a delivery when I got there. It was clear they receive much more than they could ever distribute. I know because I went back the next day and they gave me some rotten meat. Ewww!!!!!!!
So, I followed the Sister past the kitchen, where two Brothers we seasoning up several trays of steaks. I would’ve eaten it too. Homelessness demands you to slack up in your selection of foods a little bit, in order to stay alive. It’s called survival!
So, to my horror, the woman files into a chapel! I try and play it off and instead of going in, I stop abruptly, suddenly finding the blueprints of the proposed building design hanging on the wall undeniably fascinating! #architectsdaughter
The devil minister was standing right there talking to one of the “P” Brothers.
Now, I’ve come to realize that my personality is that of a catalyst. I, unwittingly, change fifty year rituals, just by being myself.
So, as a result of my little detour, instead of everybody filing in to the chapel like they’ve probably been doing for the past one hundred years or more, they stop (some of them) to see what I’m looking at, or to talk to the devil minister or each other or me. Admittedly, I’m a “trouble-maker” according to Christian devils and all those who follow them in their wickedness. But… So was Jesus. 😉
So, I’m ostensibly reading the signs, under the hawkish glare of the devil minister, internally debating with myself whether or not it’s worth it.
They would’ve LOVED to see me go into their little Christian chapel. Probably would’ve snapped my picture. “Look, we got the little Muslim girl to come to our chapel….. *cackle* *cackle* *snort* *snort*”
Earlier I was even told that if you spend seven days there, you could receive a letter that you could use to attain housing.
So, I stood there a good eight (8) minutes before I finally left. But on my way out, I copped a french roll, a container of donut holes and an 8-cup box of yogurt. Oh! And 2 handfulls of fresh plums! Allah u Akbar!
So, when I got home, Zawji insisted that I eat the yogurt first. But it was warm and I didn’t like the texture. I wanted to eat the bread. But when Zawji speaks, I hear and obey. Surprisingly, the flavor was très magnifique! *kisses fingertips* (You can’t help but pick up a little French living in NOLA 😉 )
So, eventually, I get to about the sixth cup and decide to read the nutrition information. I was floored when I discovered that one 5 oz. cup of yogurt contains 24 (twenty-four) per cent of the protein recommended for one whole day! All I could say was Allahu Akbar. Zawji is the SECOND BEST KNOWER.
He makes me want what I need and dislike what I don’t need. All Praise Is Due To Allah. I got my yogurt! And it was GOOD for me too! 😀
* * * * *
So, yesterday (later when I wrote this) I slowly began working my way through this enormous park. The Messenger (PBUH) would get so angry with the devils bitd. There he was, using every means at his disposal to secure a hospital for Black people by Black people and the devils would allocate the land for another park. Just what the Asiatic Black Nation in the Wilderness of North America DOES NOT NEED – MORE SPORT AND PLAY.
But that’s what the devils want us to do. So, they build parks and statues. NOLA has statues on every corner. I can think of two statues, offhand, that I’ve seen in all of L.A. – from Downtown to Santa Monica.
So, there’re two statues of Brother Louis in this one park. I had been looking for the bench that that devil was sitting on. (They really need more benches in this huge park) I finally found it. She had vacated it, so I occupied it.
I looked up and there’s Brother Louis standing magnificently before me in all his musical majesty. I filled with so much emotion, I probably cried.
The words just started tumbling over and over in my head.
“Hey, Brother Louis.”
“I miss my wife.” He “said.”
I thought of how I read in his autobiography that his second wife fully understood that she would always be second to his music. So, “hearing” him say that he missed his wife was very enlightening and encouraging both as a musician and as a musician married to a musician. We should put each other first.
I already told you, they’re trying to get me in the Illuminati. Devil Jews. Trying to make me sing – on their terms.
My Zawji is a musician. I get him I get the BEST OF BOTH WORLDS. They can kiss my perfect round Black ass.
I am going to sing one day, In sha Allah. But it has to be with my Zawji. I tried it without him thinking, “Allah Gave Me This Gift. He May Be Displeased If I Hide It Under a Bushel.” I tried THE WORLD STAGE and now I’m completely convinced I CANNOT sing without Zawji.
Trying to make the days count as opposed to counting the days.
I can’t wait to hear the band playing tonight. You can hear the music throughout the entire hotel.
Last night, I stayed in the main dressing room at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre for the Performing Arts. It had a shower! I wish I had the forethought to stuff something in the doorway, so I could get back in. Next time… In sha Allah.
As soon as I walked out the next morning, I saw a container of fresh fruit, just sitting there. Allah (swt) Had Provided Breakfast. Allah u Akbar.
There was fresh watermelon, honeydew, blueberries, strawberries, but canned peaches. Of course, the peaches looked out of place, but I’m wondering if maybe, the produce situation out here is different than in L.A. In L.A. you can get peaches and pretty much any kind of fresh fruit throughout the year. I finally saw a grocery store out here too – Winn-Dixie. I’m not too particular about the name though.
So, I went back to see Satchelmouth and watched the Sunrise and snacked on some “party snacks” I found in the theatre, but they tasted like they had pork in them. So, in the trash can they went. The ingredients had something called oleoresin. I didn’t know what that is, but oleo is lard in Spanish and that was good enough for me to toss it.
They had nuts anyway. So, I threw a few handfulls to the squirrel and Allah/Zawji told me, “That’s who this food is for.” I felt guilty but kept eating until I tasted the pork. Khanzier is pork in Arabic. It means “foul” and “I see foul.” The squirrel wouldn’t even eat it!
Now that I think about it, homelessness is not a reason to slack up on my good eating habits. I didn’t need that steak. I’m sure they had side dishes that would have filled my belly. And I didn’t need those party snacks either. I had just had some healthy fresh fruit! Greed.
So, this morning, just before Sunrise, I found CONGO SQUARE.
I almost started crying as I studied the sculpture of Africans dancing and drumming, when the chains, barely noticeable, framing the bottom of the sculpture jolted me back to reality. They were not just a group of Africans dancing and singing and drumming. They were slaves to America. 😥
There is a massive courtyard where they undoubtedly hold festivals, rallies and whatnot. It is one hundred times bigger than Leimert.
There was another sculpture that I was afraid was going to creep me out, so I spared myself the grief and shied away from it.
(I looked another day and sure enough it was one of the Mardi Gras Indians. Zawji is trying to acclimate me to this Mardi Gras stuff. I’m trying, Bi 🙂 I Love you!!! Happy Birthday, Darling ❤ ❤ ❤ )
Someone told me the brass bands come and play in the afternoons on the weekends and I saw a Brother carrying a trombone “yesterday” but he didn’t stop.
Someone else told me there are very reasonably priced apartments in the area, so I might take a look. I saw a 2-bedroom in the 9th ward for $800!!! I would’ve inquired but I want to be closer to Congo Square. I’m concerned there are going to be devils if I come back tomorrow (the weekend). If I see ONE, I’ma kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug and then jet!
Why was I walking down the street the other day and I passed one of the devil’s Masonic Lodges. I had seen a few Black Lodges, but this devil’s lodge was huge! I went in the yellow tape (there was major construction going on around the building but not on the building). After awhile this devil construction worker takes it upon himself to order me off the premises. These devils are unbelievable.
“Come on outta there, GAL.”
I was like, “WHAT DID YOU CALL ME???“
All I could think of was “A Woman Called Moses” I don’t know if he meant any harm or not, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he calls his own devil women, “Gal?” I don’t know. But I didn’t like it, on the strength of the Harriet Tubman movie. It came across as very possessive and condescending.
I hope that’s the first and the LAST time anybody calls me “gal.”
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
Music is a beautiful woman in her prime,
Music is a scrubwoman, clearing away the dirt and grime.
Music is a girl child,
Simple, sweet and beaming,
A thousand years old,
Cold as sleet, and scheming.
Wise and patient,
Unfathomably kind,
Music is the woman you always wanted to find.
As fragile as a flower,
A single petal of a rose,
And what you think you think,
She already knows she knows.
A system of ribbons,
A multiplicity of ramifications,
Sparkling from her brain down through her core,
A million facets of gossamer sensations.
And you could be
A most inadequate bore.
Music is a gorgeous bitch, …
A volcano of desire
Makes your blood to boil
As you get higher and higher.
Music is like the woman
Who is like mathematics:
Music is a woman who’s true.
No matter how well you know her
There’s always more to learn;
An Endless Adventure, Everyday She’s Brand-New.
Music is that woman, who you’ll hope will say,
“There’s very few (none in the case of my Zawji ❤ ) who do a new-do like you do.”
But, alas, you’re the victim of her coup
‘Cause she can always satisfy you.
Music is the woman
You follow day after day;
Music is the woman
Who always has her way.
When you don’t hear her,
You desperately miss her,
And when you embrace her,
You wish you could kiss her.
Bet you didn’t know the Duke was also a poet! 😉
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
As-Salaam-Alaikum!
My Dear Beloved Musical Phenomena,
In my humble opinion, you are, hands down, the GREATEST TRUMPET MAN WHO EVER LIVED!
I love Miles, Lee, Dizzy, Clifford and Wynton is EXTREMELY talented, but YOUR MUSIC, My Dear Brother….When you BLOW, it just takes me to another level.
Your Duets With Sister Ella are Stellar and I hope they are around forever. I cannot fathom anything that could ever surpass them.
It makes my cry, though, Dear Brother, to think of how the devil Caucasians exploited you and the many other Black artists, who let them.
It makes me cry also, Dear Brother, to know that if it had not been for those same devils’ recordings of you and all of my favorite musicians, I would never have been able to hear your music. 😥
It also makes me cry, Brother Louis, to know that if I had been born during the time you were performing, I would have to sit up in the “Peanut Gallery” if I was allowed admission at all (like at the renowned Cotton Club where Blacks were only allowed to entertain the devil patrons but not enjoy the services offered there), if I wanted to see one of your legendary performances.
It makes my heart break, Dear Brother Louis, that you did not have enough Knowledge of Self to see how derogatory “Sleepy Time Down South” was and is to your own Black kind.
I’m sitting here, off Basin Street in Congo Square/Armstrong Park, watching nothing but devils come and go, posing and taking pictures in front of your statue, my dear poor, ignorant Brother.
I’ve been here ALL DAY and have not yet seen ONE Black Person come and visit your statue.
They (America) USED you, their servitude slave, Dear Brother, to travel around the world and act as an ambassador to convince their enemies of what a great country she it. HER SLAVE!
I know you didn’t know any better, Brother Louis, at least I hope you didn’t. I know the poison America has injected into all of her slaves – The So-called American Negroes – through her white supremacist school system, where ALL little Black schoolchildren are taught to worship and admire you because of your love for them.
I hate to say it, My Dear Brother, because of my love for you (regardless of your ignorance) and your music, but you were the Biggest Coon in American History. As much as I love you, Dear Brother, this is a fact.
Some might argue and say, Oprah Winfrey, but she has not been designated by the U.S. Government to act as an Ambassador to Foreign countries, like you were, My Brother.
Oprah Winfrey does not travel the world singing the praises of her slavemasters like you did, my Dearly Beloved, although Blind, Deaf, Dumb and Mentally Dead Dear Brother.
I know you had beef with some of the younger cats who were wide awake to the realization of their condition as “second-class citizens” (if that) here in the United Snakes of America, Dear Brother, like Diz.
I really wish you would have listened to him because that “Wonderful World” (just because of your reputation and image) was some ol’ bullshit, Dear Brother. However, I am happy that you presented a united front in the presence of our Universal and Open enemies – the Devil Caucasians.
Forsooth, if some white hippie, or even a self-proclaimed naturalist, like myself, had recorded it, Dear Brother, it would have had an entirely different connotation. However, because of your history of gratuitous obsequiousness toward your slavemasters, it came off as just another bearer of witness to your blind, deaf and dumb and mentally dead wretched state of mental slavery.
*I just broke my pen, throwing it at these devils.
I wish I had a grenade!
I hate these so-called “Jazz enthusiasts”,
Who claim Jazz as America’s only original art form,
And as if it is their own.
I just wanna CHOKE ‘EM!!!
ALL OF THEM!!!!
* * * **
Brother Louis, I would be remiss in my duties as a journalist if I did not relate for my readers, a story probably only circulated within the jazz community of artists…. wait, wait. I can’t tell that one. I read your autobiography.
(The first autobiography of a jazz musician ever written) and I used to get so frustrated, Brother, when you would not divulge some of your “inside” stuff!
So, I’ll tell another one, you did tell in your autobiography. You explained how when you played for the Queen of England and her people, how stiff and stuck-up and boring they all were. So, you gave them all laxatives and told them to “Loosen up!” LOL
Okay, damn I can’t hold water. But, this is so apropos seeing as how (when I wrote this anyway) it was weed-smoking season….
Anyway, you admitted in your autobio that every night before bed, you would take a laxative and then every morning you would “wake and bake” and loosen up in the bathroom. 😉
Well, the story goes that once you happened upon The President of the United States on one of your return trips from some foreign country and the President turned out to be a big fan of yours.
So, he asked you if there was anything he could do for you? And you said, “Yeah….”
“Slip this bag through customs real quick…..”
You ever notice how when boys add “real quick” to anything they ask of you, it’s impossible to say no? 🙂 #boyz #gottaloveem 😉 ❤ ❤ ❤
***TO READ LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY ONLINE
FOR FREE,
CLICK HERE!!!***
The FIRST thing I noticed were the clouds.
It was hard to admit, but somehow they’re BETTER than the clouds where I’m from.
They seem closer, more picturesque,
More PRONOUNCED, against the backdrop of the Azure skies.
Then one morning, I alighted from my lion’s den, pre-dawn,
For a commune with Allah,
The Landscape Around Me Looked As If
It Had Been Digitally Enhanced
The Sunrise Only Added A Gilded Tinge
To The Vibrant Greens of the Cypress Trees
As I Meandered Past.
New Orleans is DRENCHED in Romance.
The feeling overtakes you so suddenly and unexpectedly,
It’s almost overwhelming.
Your insides are reduced to cornmeal mush…
As Ellington’s “Sentimental Mood” evokes a soft chord
In the recesses of your mind.
The desire to retain such emotion is uncontrollably strong.
And it lingers as long as you do.
But errands call, and grudgingly you answer
Moseying along the sunlit but still eerily empty streets.
But soon, just as unexpectedly, another one comes over you,
This time on the banks of the
Majestic Mississippi
The waters ripple magnificently out
Before you –
A mirror of the Midnight Sky
Her gentle waves entice you
But the rocky slope hinders your progress –
The drive home on an elevated highway
Spotlights a Brilliant Sunset
And completely unannounced and without warning
Once again, the feeling of Romance embraces you in invisible arms
But they are as tangible as your own
The Orange Glow Hypnotizes
As the sky is enveloped in a watercolor of hues
Red… blue… pink… gold…
The Birds sing a chorus of the melody and harmony
That reverberates the song going out of your heart
Much, much too soon
The Sun has disappeared below the horizon
Along with her goes her glow,
The moment has passed
And is soon forgotten
Until the next one taps you on the shoulder
*Ahem*
You turn around and the bright neon
Of Bourbon Street flashes before your eyes.
The Streets are ALIVE
With Jazz & Merriment & Music!!!
The joyful atmosphere sweeps you high up into the air
And carries you on a cloud of audio/visual delight.
You float through the maze of cafes
Until you’ve had your fill of song and dance of Dixie.
A streetcar screeches by,
Reminding you,
“Hey! You Are In NEW ORLEANS!
BIRTHPLACE OF JAZZ!”
Around the Corner
Congo Square Beckons An Ancient Call
You Respond in African Tradition
Drawn By The Beat Of A Djembe
You ask for directions in vain,
No one has heard of it….
The Free Spirits of Your Bond Ancestors
Guide You Regardless,
After A Walk Through Time
A Bevy of Shade Trees
Extend Their Branches
Welcoming You To The Sacred Grounds
Where Our Foreparents Gathered
Three Hundred Years Ago Or More
On Their ONE DAY OF REST
Cautiously, You Approach The Nucleus of the Center Circle
Of The Square,
Images of Beautiful Asiatic Black Gods and Goddesses Encircle You
Rejoicing in the Bounty and Pleasure of the Others’ Company
Despite Their Collective Wretched Existence.
Think You they felt the same Romance?
The Same Heart-Wrenching Emotion?
The Visceral Pull Of The Elements
Toward The Almighty Oneness of The One God – Allah?
THEY LAID THE FOUNDATION FOR IT
AND EVERYTHING ELSE OF VALUE IN THIS COUNTY
BUILT ON THE BLOOD AND MURDER OF THE RIGHTEOUS
AMERICA – THE PITIFUL, THE DOOMED
Incredibly, 400 Years later,
The Romance Inherently An Integral Part of this Sacred Ground
Still lingers….
It thrills and enchants one of their Scions,
Who Just Can’t Find It In Her Heart
To Leave………
So, I’m pretty positive the devils who arrested me were both KKK AND MASONS. I know, I know KKK are supposed to be Christians but Masons (Muslim sons) are the biggest liars in history.
As we came through the fence surrounding the jail, we passed two older Brothers sitting there. I wondered why.
We reached the entrance to the jail. The driver mentioned you have to push the button next to the car for someone to open the gate, but he made no move to push the button!
Then, here comes Uncle Tom, ambling all the way from his post by the fence and HE pushes the button. I was floored (to borrow a word from my Dearest Zawji 😉 ).
Then as if that wasn’t bad enough, the devil had to comment on my poor Brother’s mental slavery condition, to make sure I bore witness to what is still going on down here in Dixie. I was imbibed with embarrassment.
All the Sheriffs, except one male and two females, were Black.
They let me keep my Holy Qur-an, but handcuffed me and forcibly removed my headpiece after I refused to do it myself. Then they held it hostage until I had completely finished the booking process. I was only required to remove it for the mugshot. Christians.
Allah (swt) Has Already Paid Them Back Their Mockery. I tried to reason with them.
“I took the picture. Can I put my headpiece back on?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t cooperate.”
“You asked me to do something that is completely in opposition to what Allah (God) Prescribed for me to do as a Muslim woman. Of course, I’m not going to go against my religion. I fear Allah ONLY.“
“You’ll get it when I give it to you. If I give it to you.”
We were in a huge auditorium-sized waiting room (Lock-Up) full of men (one white) and they would not allow me to cover my head, as Allah prescribed. I feel sorry for what Allah (God) Has Already done to them.
He (Allah) Has Killed three people for me (that I know of) already!
Without me even asking!
So, one of my bitch-ass father’s doppels is ( أستغفر الله) threatening to take my headpiece permanently and I’m pacing back and forth trying to keep from losing it. (Bitch) Then one of the Sheriffs tells me to sit down. I said something smart, probably like (“I’ll sit down when I feel like it!” or something like that) and they put me in a holding cell, which was even better, because I could isolate.
Other women, eventually, were put in the cell with me. If they had to use the bathroom, the Sheriffs brought them in there, and left them. Even though there were two other single restrooms right outside the holding cell. That’s where they took me after my bodyscan came out questionable and they acted like I had something under my clothes and had to stripsearch me. I TOLD them why it came out like that, and asked them to just do another one. But Christians………
Then, they did that to this devil. I was mad they let her in there in the first place. But anyway, she went postal when they wouldn’t let her back out. Talking about, “I need my meds!!!!” SMH She started banging her shoe against the glass, but to no avail.
Eventually, she sat down and started thumbing through my Holy Qur-an. Ten years ago I would have snatched it out of her hand, kicked her in the face and called her a Universal Snooping Devil.
But, I’m older, wiser and much calmer now. I even sort of respected her for having the intelligence to even try and read it. None of the Sisters gave it a second look. But, I had to say something!
“You have to wash your hands before you touch that Book.”
She said something, washed her hands and started trying to involve me in a conversation. I wasn’t having it. She was a devil. And I don’t talk to devils.
Eventually, she went back to banging on the window, got turnt up and picked up my Holy Qur-an again.
“Give me my Book,” I didn’t like the way she was holding it.
“How do I know it’s yours?”
“Bitch, Do you not see this fucking headpiece?!?!” I thought.
“Give me my Book.” I said calmly.
“Is your name in it?”
I looked at her stale cheek.
“Hit it” Allah Demanded.
“Give me my Book.” I didn’t want to.
“Prove it’s yours.”
Then I gave her a nice jab to her right cheek.
She immediately started screaming for the deputies, who basically ignored her. Then she paused for a minute, tasting blood. “I’m bleeding!!!! I’m bleeding!!!!!”
I couldn’t believe it. I’ve been in many fights and never has anyone started bleeding. Devils are so weak-boned and stale-faced, just like Our Beloved Messenger, The Most Honorable Elijah Muhammad (PBUH) taught us.
I was holding in a laugh as the Sheriffs just walked by ignoring her. By now, she’s wiping blood on the glass. “I’m bleeding!!!” Everyone is paying her absolutely no attention. One of the Sisters laying on the bench, was like, “Will you shut up? I’m trying to get some sleep!” LOL
So then she got even more mad and picked up my Holy Book and slammed it on the ground.
It was on.
I attacked her and eventually the Sheriffs did come in and removed her from the cell. Which is really what both parties wanted in the first place….
* * * * *
New Orleans’ jail is so laid back compared to L.A. The inmates practically run the shit. I saw women switch dormitories, order the deputies around, and make them wait until they (the inmates) felt like going back in their cells.
When we changed into our prison garb, they just told us to put our clothes in a garment bag and turn it back in to them. They had such cute garments! They were, to borrow a phrase from my crazy neighbor who hates my guts, “Cal-Trans Orange” and came in coveralls, t-shirts, sweatshirts, shorts and pants. Even the sandals matched!
I tried to just put the coveralls on over my garment, but this one wanna be sergeant, peon deputy asked me if I still had on my clothes? How he knew? Your guess is as good as mine. So, I just gave them the dress, but I kept my pants-skirt on. I didn’t mind so much because I had a sweatshirt to cover my arms. I thank Allah!
I am ashamed to even tell you what we have to go through in the City of Angels.
Single file into the huge changing room. Face the wall. “When I say ‘Take off your shirt’ take off your shirt, fold it and put it in the plastic bag on the right side of the table behind you. When I say ‘Take off your pants’ take off your pants….” Until everybody is standing there butt naked. Then, “When I say ‘Put on your panties….'”
Yet another reason when I’m never going back to L.A. That is, unless Zawji pleases. 😉
I’m pretty sure Allah (God) Desires that I go to Harlem next. I’ve been there before tho, and I’ve been trying to get to Atlanta since January, but I’m pretty sure all the cities in the South are basically identical, with New Orleans being the standout.
I’m sayin’. I’ve met people from Birmingham, Mississippi and even ATLANTA, who came here (NOLA), so I’m like, “Why should I go there?”
But Zawji wants me to stay put until after his B-Day. 😀
This Duke Ellington autobio is what made me Know Allah (God) Wants me to go back to Harlem.
He AND Gordon Parks, (whose autobio I put down so I could read the Duke’s) had to go to Harlem twice before they made it. This will be my second time. So, I really have to wait for Zawji. NYE in Times Square would be fresh ta def tho. Word.
Being a CALIFORNIA GIRL, this will be my first time experiencing a real change of seasons also. I can’t wait to bear witness to the Autumn leaves and take an afternoon stroll with my Zawji. #23days 😀 ❤ ❤ ❤
(*I once checked this c.d. out at the library and the librarian asked me if I had returned a certain c.d. and I was like “No, Something Else” 😀 LOL)
Why, when I came home the other day, I couldn’t wait to savour the days catch of a french roll and a quart of whole milk! Only to discover I had left the milk at the place where I had used the computer.
Talk about dejected!
So, I went to the hotel store and was waiting for an opportunity to come up when here comes Head of Security – “Joe Smith: American Negro.”
“Um, excuse me Ma’am. Can you come with me?”
“Do I have a choice?” Really.
He led me through a part of the hotel I had never been and then to “his office” pfffff
I felt an opportunity to break, but thought about it too long.
TRESPASSING AND STEALING
AGAIN.
SMH
OMW TO JAIL.
AGAIN.
I HAD ONLY BEEN OUT FIVE (5) DAYS.
DAMN, GINA!
LOL
All I could think about was the numerous times the Deputies kept repeating, “And, don’t come back!” when I got released the first time.
Joe Smith: American Negro explained to the police over the phone, the nature of my crimes and please hurry.
I was not looking forward to seeing those Roman Catholic die-hards, who were so happy to see me go the first time, again.
And I really didn’t want to discover my Sweet little Sister who was so preoccupied with her children, but listened intently as I talked about the Messenger (PBUH), was still there.
That would’ve broken my heart. 😥
But there was “Sister Security” in “his office” and just like every other Southern Belle I’ve encountered here in Dixie, she was just as accommodating and convivial as she could be.
She gave me cold water and refreshments and we got to talking and discovered that we have a lot in common as far as traditional values go. She said she really wished she could be there when her 16-year-old son got home from school. And, when he called, she gave him the wisdom of a Sage. I added my two-cents and took it up to the next level.
Eventually, she buttered up Big Poppa Joe and convinced him to let me go after I promised (I really hope I didn’t give my word…) not to return.
You know I did. 😛
I hope I didn’t get you fired, Poppa. I heard you were running around the hotel looking for me. BUT, If I did, Brother, open up your own Security Service and do something for yourself. Tell those devils standing on your neck to kiss your Black you-know-what!
* * * * *
But back to our story…..
When I got to the dormitory, it looked like the men’s prisons I see on the news. In L.A., every body has a cell. You might have a “cellie” or you may have one all to yourself.
This jail looked like a big bomb shelter. It was made completely out of metal plates and there were bunk beds lined up toward the rear, with some cots between them. The very back wall held five cells for the particularly unruly Sisters. One of them was only seventeen, but she was so out of control that I had to cast my eyes in another direction when they let her out. I had tried to talk to her about the Messenger (PBUH) though and she seemed to listen.
There were lunch tables in the front of the dorm.
I got my mattress and chose a top bunk in the very back. I was right next to one of Neb Love’s (Five-Footaz) Doppels and thought she would be cool to bunk next to, seeing as how she’s Leimert Park folkers. I forgot or didn’t think it would matter that she’s a lesbo.
So, everything was pretty cool at first. (I started to write ‘the first few days’, but I was only there 2 and a half Time goes by at a snail’s pace when you’re incarcerated…) But the second Sister who showed a genuine interest in Islam after I got there, talked to her so meanly (? is that a word? No squiggly red line underneath, so I’ma roll with it.) Anyway, I couldn’t believe it! I have only heard one person speak meaner (Zawji 😉 ) I could not understand, WHY she spoke so harshly toward this Sister EVERY TIME she spoke to her. Neb might not even be paying her any attention and she would say something so cutting to her I almost felt sorry for her, but she had already lost my sympathy when she showed aversion to her salvation – ISLAM.
THEN, one night she (Neb) started banging this beat on the wall and singing some filthy song.
I ignored her and kept reading my Holy Qur-an. But, then this red devil started disrobing and dancing like a stripper. Meanwhile, I’m trying to reason with all the girls on my team not to get caught up in the devil’s wickedness, they’ve been doing that since they were in the caves and they only want us to go to hell with them……
But my efforts to enjoin them to righteousness fell on deaf ears.
Soon, the whole dorm was in an uproar, each girl, challenging her or egging her on. I’m still trying to read my Holy Qur-an and ignore it all.
Neb’s still banging away, THEN, the red devil decides to position her filth RIGHT NEXT TO MY BUNK AND STARTED HUMPING THE FLOOR!!!! I looked down in disgust. She kept it up though and I know she chose that spot just so she could affront and insult me, who was trying to be and show righteousness to my Sisters. (But who had also been, very loudly, calling her a devil all day and the day before 😉 )
I knew I had to do something or the situation would spiral out of any control. More importantly, I had to let her and everybody else in there know that she could not and would not get away with disrespecting the righteous without there being some consequences.
So, I threw my Holy Qur-an at her sinful ass.
POINT MADE.
She got up and I hopped down. She was ready to fight and everybody else was backing her up.
I was the Lone Voice Crying out in the Wilderness.
But here comes Deputy Jane to rescue me from their murderous machinations.
She took me outside and I was so happy to once again be out among the bees and trees and flowers that I barely heard her excuses.
I went back in victorious because everything was back to normal and apparently, it’s a very, very big deal when the Deputy has to escort you out. 😉 #likeaBOSS
I had a court date the very next day, which was also better than L.A. You might be up in there for two weeks before you ever see a judge. They had me in there 28 days once.
Anyway, to give you an example of how jacked up Louisiana courts are, Our Beloved Messenger (May the Peace and the Blessings of Allah Forever Be Upon Him) wrote about them in MESSAGE TO THE BLACKMAN IN AMERICA and I just read an article about it in their own newspaper.
So, I was kind of nervous. But, I didn’t go that day because they wouldn’t allow me to bring my Holy Qur-an. I really couldn’t part with it that day and so I refused court.
But Allah is the Best Knower, because I spent all day with the Sisters who were extremely interested in Islam; answering their many inquiries and telling them everything I know that would put them on the Road to Freedom, Justice and Equality, Knowledge of Self, God and our open enemies the devil Caucasians.
But, I did go the next day and just like in L.A., if you plead guilty, you get immediate discharge – no questions asked.
But two Sisters, on two separate occasions told me they had entered a guilty plea with the public defender, but she entered a not guilty plea instead. That’s what happened to the Sister who was worried about her children. She was supposed to be out, but the devil Public Defender changed her plea without her knowledge and entirely in opposition to her original request.
The Judge and his assistant or Court mediator, or whatever she was, could not stand her (the public defender), neither could the inmates.
So, I watched her fill out my paperwork very closely and my guilty plea was entered. “Mrs. Jamillah Washington” was being released. LOL 😉 No fees. No fines. No court dates. First offence, you know…. 😉 😛
But, as the court was wrapping, some of the inmates started voicing their disapproval of the defense. (Oh yeah, before I forget, there’s a microphone where you can actually TALK TO THE JUDGE!!!!!. In L.A., if you even THINK about saying something they (the judges, attorneys, staff, Sheriffs, EVERYBODY) act like you committed murder. So, as soon as I got up there I said this secret Masonic teaching that will get you off EVERY TIME! That’s probably why I got off so easily, with No fees and whatnot. EVERYBODY else had court fees. It was so common that I began to think that that was all they cared about. THE BENJAMINS. “Can you pay today?” “$250 fine” “$60 for 12 months”…. and so on…. Also, the Judge didn’t announce over the mic that I had no fees, like he announced everybody’s fines, the public defender came and whispered it to me.
When you go to court, all you have to do is say…… Nah, I can’t go out like that. 😛
JOIN THE NATION OF ISLAM AND STUDY THE HONOURABLE ELIJAH MUHAMMAD (PEACE BE UPON HIM) ACCEPT YOUR OWN (YOUR OWN GOD – ALLAH, YOUR OWN RELIGION – ISLAM AND YOUR OWN PEOPLE – THE BLACK PEOPLES OF THE PLANET EARTH) AND BE YOURSELF (A RIGHTEOUS MUSLIM) AND IN SHA ALLAH (IF IT PLEASES ALLAH) YOU WILL COME ACROSS THIS MOST VALUABLE TEACHING IN YOUR STUDIES. 😉
Read MESSAGE TO THE BLACKMAN HERE;
OUR SAVIOUR HAS ARRIVED HERE;
THE FALL OF AMERICA HERE;
HOW TO EAT TO LIVE, BOOK ONE HERE;
HOW TO EAT TO LIVE, BOOK TWO HERE;
YOUTUBE ELIJAH MUHAMMAD HERE.
LISTEN TO HIM. NOT WHAT PEOPLE HAD TO SAY ABOUT HIM.
LISTEN TO HIM THEN MAKE YOUR OWN INFORMED OPINION ABOUT HIS DIVINE SUPREME WISDOM TEACHINGS BASED ON YOUR OWN KNOWLEDGE.
CHECK OUT
GET YOUR LEARN ON. 😀
* * * * *
So, anyway, some of the inmates start telling the Public Defender, she needs to go home and study some more and whatnot. So, I decided this was the perfect time to confront her about the two Sisters who told me she changed their pleas. She assured me she would never do anything like that. Naive Love Allah said, “Not even if you were convinced it was in her best interest?”
“Oh no,” she said, “I would NEVER do that!”
She sounded so sincere, I almost believed her. The Archdeceiving Devil! So then, I said,
“Well, somebody is lying, and THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER. So, I think it’s you.”
She didn’t say anything after that.
I started to take the LSAT to go to Law School. But I didn’t have any I.D. I was in the process of changing my name and I refused to get an I.D. in my slave name. So, I never took it. But I know I could be a kick-ass lawyer.
I had the study guide with me one day when Hakim (my son) and I were in an American Sign Language (ASL) class. This deaf Brother came in and inquired about the book. I told him I was studying it. He told me it was good because there are a lot of deaf Brothers in the criminal justice system who are as mistreated as any other Blackman in America, but it’s more difficult for them because in addition to a racist defender they have to have an interpreter. So, they kind of have two strikes against them. Most Blackmen only have to deal with a racist lawyer. They have to deal with both a racist lawyer AND a racist interpreter.
Okay, for the sake of my deaf Brothers, I will tell you what to say to the Judge. I love ya’ll. 😉 Just say, “I SEE YOU ARE A TRAVELING MAN.”
That’s all. He won’t say anything to acknowledge that he heard you. But don’t you say anything either. *whispering* It’s supposed to be a secret, remember? He will give you a much lighter sentence, extra time to pay your fine, if you already have one or even dismiss your case. I’ve done it several times. Every time I went back to ask for extra time to pay a fine, the Judge was like, “How much time do you need?” LIKE THAT!
In conclusion, I remember, when I was about 12, telling my mother I wanted to be a Judge when I grew up. She said I would have to be a lawyer first and I was like, “Nah.” LOL
#kids ❤ ❤ ❤ #gottaloveem
Homemaking For The Black Muslim Woman Journal ™ 