The Wages of Fear

In the aftermath of the heinous killings in El Paso, TX, I couldn’t help but to ponder that, sadly, mass killings are no longer isolated incidents, and we all need to seriously consider donning “full battle rattle” before we step outside of our safe and protected zones to do what we’ve always done while wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flips or sandals, like, grab a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk from the local grocery store.

We used to be shook of drive-by shootings in and on the streets and sidewalks so we did our best to maintain a heightened awareness and protective posture of situational awareness, and steered clear of the socioeconomically pressurized, instaneously flammable areas of America’s inner cities as best as we reasonably could.

Times have changed.

Now, the experience of walking through the aisles of a grocery store or the hallways of a shopping mall, to some, will be remembered to be no different than navigating through a battlefield.

The goal of terrorism has been and is to invoke and instill fear within the hearts and minds of a group of people to the extent that it affects and alters their way of life in a way that supports the terrorist’s ultimate goal.

The active ingredient of terrorism under the auspices of white supremacy is white fear.

White people have been staying up all night clutching their pearls, peeking through the blinds, calling 911, cleaning their guns, disrupting cookouts and pool parties, denying equal justice and access to opportunity, inserting themselves in Black folk business, and gnashing their teeth ever since Black and Brown people were enslaved—then emancipated over 400 years later—by the direct-to-DVD racism of white men, white women, white politics, a bastardized version of Christianity, and a white economy who were and are the immediate benefactors of an insidious domestic terrorist regime that hides in plain sight, feigns ignorance, and strikes strategically and haphazardly with impunity.

At the feverish pitch America is accelerating without consequence, it is going to implode. The gap between the rich and the poor is not sustainable. The hate that festers in the hearts and minds of white people is unacceptable. And the love that we can’t seem to collectively cultivate within ourselves is calcifying us from the inside out.

In ancient times, Babylon fell and so did Rome.

America, the world’s dominant superpower, is next if she doesn’t let go of her ego to make room to receive the collective healing she desperately needs in lump sum instead of a long, protracted installment plan that could be distupted by the whims of the “enemy” of this world.

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” - Matthew 22:39

Credit: UC Berkeley

Credit: UC Berkeley

You Can’t Binge Watch Your Health

Our overall health and wellbeing is not something that we can neglect and then expect to make up for in one weekend. Nah. That’s not how it works.

It has to be so important to us that we conscientiously commit to doing what is necessary every day to ensure that we not only continue to live, but, more importantly, thrive.

Lately, Mental Health has had a very prominent seat at the table, if you will, with a spotlight and a microscope on it, and for good reason, too.

For far too long many of us have suffered in silence, shamed because of our emotions and feelings, but today our voices are increasingly being heard, and we are daring greatly to seek out the forms of care that we need in order to heal and be nurtured back to wholeness. I celebrate that.

That said, let’s continue to do the daily work that is necessary, not focusing on the next person, but focusing on ourselves.

Our paths are different. Your path is different than mine and mine is different than yours.

Still, we are all connected to love.

I believe in you. ✊🏾♥️💪🏾🧠💯


March 26, 2018

I have a problem.

With my mouth (words) I say that I love myself, but my actions don’t always reflect that.

I’m fluent in speaking coded language, when in reality I’m in plain-text pain.

Crying in the dark turns into filtered photos, abbreviated stories, and updates of inauthentic behavior, you know, the behavior that is acceptable and palatable in our sociopolitically-correct spheres of influence.

I’m adepth at authoring allegories of emotional camouflage just so that I’m mindful of others, but, now, I ask myself, am I being mindful of myself? And if I’m not, what is it costing me and how am I paying for it?

Does hidden trauma and unhealed pain metastasize in the form of hate, isolation, jealousy, anger, depression, anxiety, addiction? I believe so.

There are many days when I involuntarily reminisce on painful experiences, and my mind flails away in its own mental moshpit of passive inertia leaving me exhausted and throttled.

That said, I’m doing my best to be kind to myself and respond compassionately to ALL of my experiences, and to absolutely refrain from numbing via compulsive behavior.

Maybe there is purpose even in pain. Maybe there is sun shining through the closed blinds of suffering. I don’t know.

What I do know is that what I don’t reveal will never heal.

I don’t want my recovery delivered via a deferred installment plan with convoluted terms, I want it sooner rather than later, and with clarity.

If reading this added value to you, please share.

Self-discipline Under the Influence of a Woman

When most people hear of or think of the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, the myriad of women who were victimized by men come to mind. 

When I hear of or think of those two unfortunately necessary yet important movements founded by women, I, too, think of and have empathy and compassion for the women targeted and abused, but what also sits at the forefront of my mind are the names and faces of men who lacked self-discipline and disrespected, disrupted, damaged, and staged coups on the innocence and sovereignty of those women. 

Men, if we are not keenly aware of who we are we, will attempt to rob women of who they are. Moreover, if we do not harness our sexual desire, our lack of self-discipline will be our ultimate undoing. 

In the seminal book, “Think and Grow Rich” by Napoleon Hill, chapter eleven is titled, “The Mystery of Sex Transmutation”. The super-summarized and paraphrased gist of what he asserts is that sexual desire is the most powerful desire in the human being yet we have the ability to harness it for our creative good. We have the ability to transform “mediocrity into genius”. Besides, we can’t have sex all day, and contrary to what is displayed on screen in pornographic films, it is nothing but fantasy, and the average man can’t have sex for hours on end. However, the average man can tap into his creative desire and create something that can add value to himself and the world.

Notable excerpts from the chapter: 

1.          “The men of greatest achievement are men with highly developed sex natures, men who have learned the art of sex transmutation.”

2.          “The men who have accumulated great fortunes and achieved outstanding recognition in literature, art, industry, architecture, and the professions were motivated by the influence of a woman.”

It’s just something to think about.


Self-made? Nah. Grace-made.

“So above all, constantly chase after the realm of God’s kingdom and the righteousness that proceeds from him. Then all these less important things will be given to you abundantly.” Matthew 6:33 (TPT)

What if the thing you desire is lacking because your focus is on yourself and not on God? What if the next level you’ve wanted to ascend to for so long keeps slipping from your grasp because you are relying on your own resources, your own connections, your own mental and physical strength? And what if the followers you desire to grow your audience and make a valuable impact on, and ultimately change their lives and yours are missing because you continue to screen and silence the call on your life?

In society today, the expression “self-made” is used heavily. But how arrogant is that? You didn’t make yourself, God did. And, yeah, I get the premise of the expression, but, still, it’s incorrect. You might have followed through on an idea, but guess who gave you that idea? You might have persevered, but guess who inspired (breathed life into you) to persevere? Yup. God.

I dare you to give God the credit for your life and in your life as you go throughout your day. You don’t have to be weird about it, either. You don’t need to nor should you beat yourself or other people over the head with the Bible. That’s not cool and Black women, especially, don’t want you touching their hair. You don’t even need to post about Him on your social media platforms 24/7/365 because that likely off-putting and renders you alienated you from the very people you desire to connect with. Remember, intentions don’t absolve us from effects. Simply be your authentic self and share your story. In fact, that’s all I do.

I’m still Chris. Flawed, but enhanced by God’s grace.

If this encourages you, please share it with your friends.  


Relationship Goals Won't Achieve Themselves

I wonder why so many of us—men and women—want and expect just-add-water relationships. It’s like we expect to apply a filter and then voilà.

Truth be told, I met my partner when I was unemployed. It’s something that we reminisce on and laugh about at times. I exaggerate and tell her that I upgraded her from the slums of Frederick, Maryland (She didn’t live in a slum. It can’t be a slum with a Wegman’s close by.) and she is quick to remind me that she “downgraded” to come live with me in my apartment in Northern Virginia. Whatever, yo.

I’m not naïve to think that social media “got the dating (relationship/smash-ship/I-don’t-know-our-status) game all f’d up” either because the responsibility does not fall at the feet of insentient technology. Social media didn’t create relationships and it, by itself, won’t upend them. The onus is on us. Before social media existed, we harbored the same selfishness and fear that we see propagated on the average social feed and that is “Yass’d” in social circles of women over brunch and glad-handed by men among other men wherever we do that sort of thing.

“My next man gotta make more money than me”.

“I only like ____ chicks (body type)”.

“I don’t want no broke n*gga”.

“She can’t have no kids”.

“He gotta be just like my Daddy”.

“His credit score gotta be 700+”.

“Her feet gotta be cute”.

“Marriage sucks”.

“I need variety”.

“She gotta cook and clean just like my Momma used to do”.

Why, though? Whatever happened to building together? You know, helping one another. We can take turns cooking and cleaning. We both can exercise together. We can worship God and pray together. We can read books together. We can save money together. We can even take continuing education classes together, too, if that’s what’s necessary to achieve our goals. Just imagine the net worth that two people with a shared vision and who are committed to becoming the best version of themselves can create together. Everybody has relationship goals, but many of us have little to no relationship work ethic. Contrary to foolish belief, relationships take work. Show me a relationship that “woke up like this” and I’ll show you one that went to bed ashy.

Life in and of itself has a built-in ebb and flow. It just is what it is. However, life (real life) is beautiful.

I admire people--young and old--who’ve been in committed, healthy relationships that span decades regardless of the number of zeros in their bank account, the zip code they live in, the number of stamps in their passport book, or the way they look physically.

Our relationship has its idiosyncrasies. We’ve been through growing pains and at one point we considered moving on, even. It was because of me, not her. Yet we remain committed to our agreement which we renew daily. I’m simply grateful for God’s grace, mercy, and my partner’s love.

Waking up with my breath smelling like “All my life I had to fight” and my abs looking like Krispy Kreme is alright with me because I know I have some Scope in the bathroom and I am still loved.

I mean, what do I have to complain about?

That’s relationship goals.


I don’t ask for much; just to be better than I was before, and by before, I mean anytime before right now. More so than doing, I believe I’m BEING that person. My daily morning meditation practice has increased my capacity for stillness and it is teaching me how to anchor myself in the present, shielding me from the raucous ruminations of before that seek to hold me hostage from my higher self. I’m not deep, y’all, but surely I’m not shallow. I’m going into 2019 with no intent to necessarily change anything, but to be present in each moment for they themselves are always ministering to me.


10 things to shutdown in 2018, but not like the Government

  1. The same tired-ass bathroom selfie while toothpaste spit bubbles are conspicuously chilling on the mirror. In fact, just stop taking pictures in the bathroom altogether. #windex
  2. Subliminal clapback posts, but according to you aren’t really clapbacks because you’re just “talking out loud” like Kevin Spacey. If you’re mad at the world and just wanna talk out loud, you might consider a journal. Yeah, they still make those, bruh. Otherwise, expect it to either go down in the comments section or the DM. Whichever one doesn’t get blocked first. Your choice. Smile.
  3. Duck lips. Look, those should have been stowed away in, like, what? 2015? But there are still a few stragglers. So, as they say or used to say in the Army when I served but really wanted to so desperately be a civilian again, “Police up your battle buddies.” If you see something, say something. Thank you.
  4. The Dab. In middle school, during arts and crafts class, my teacher would have me and my class use Elmer’s Glue to secure construction paper or paper maché together to complete whatever the hell project we were doing at the time. And if we were caught applying copious amounts of white adhesive, she would admonish us, saying, “A little dab will do you.” Here, in 2019, though, a little dab won’t do you because, no, we don’t know how to not over-do things. Because when older white people start doing the dab, it’s time to shut it down. We cannot have nice things so shut it down. But not like the government.
  5. Preaching, prophecying, or being a pest to me or anyone in the DM. Just so we are clear like white people with little to no melanin (no offense), I already have a personal relationship with God and it is personal hence why I’m using the word personal three times in this sentence. I don’t wanna type Amen if I love Jesus and I’m not going to. I’m also not going to forward some random message to “keep it going”. Why would I want to keep spam going? Nah. Nope. Nah uh. Block.
  6. Calling me on Facebook Messenger when you know good and well you have my phone number. What would you do if Facebook went away overnight? What would happen to our relationship? Hell, do we even have one anymore? I’m bout to BirdBox you and you don’t even know it.
  7. Tagging me when you don’t know me like that and even then, if you do know me like that, let the algorithm do its job.
  8. Liking all of my posts as soon as I accept your friend request, LIKE A STALKER. I don’t even like all of my posts, non-fam. Pace yourself. Run the marathon not the sprint.
  9. Commenting on an article before actually reading the article. I mean . . . 😫
  10. Finally, begging for attention, directly or indirectly. In all seriousness, social media should not be anyone’s vehicle for love, acceptance, self-worth, self-esteem, etc. Likes amd followers in and of themselves don’t mean anything. Don’t fall victim to the addictive nature of modern technology. But just take my word for it, read Dr. Adam Alter’s latest book, “Irresistible: The Rise of Addictive Technology and the Business of Keeping Us Hooked. I’m coming off a 14-day social media detox, and everytime I complete one, it does wonders to my psyche and my spirit.

Wait. Before I go, 2019 just invaded my DM and told to tell you, “Don’t bring that sh*t in here”.

Now, you can type Amen if you love this message. Happy New Year!

Do You Hear Me?

The writer in me loves words. As such, I enjoy the employ of dialect, colloquial expression, figurative language, literary technique, and vernacular, just to name a few. I especially appreciate the cultural artifacts sewn into the lining of language. So when black women (some not all) punctuate their sentences with ‘DO 👏🏾YOU 👏🏾HEAR 👏🏾ME👏🏾?’ (Monosyllabicly-synchronized handclaps may or may not be sold separately) as they lean in and speak their truth and want to ensure that your state of our awareness is, at a minimum, woke-adjacent because something is about to happen, I pay attention.

To the unlettered, allow me to clue you in on something: ‘DO YOU HEAR ME?’ is really a rhetorical question because they know good and damn well that you hear them as you have two ears and you were just listening to mumble rap in your AirPods. They are simply giving you the benefit of the doubt.

Specifically, ‘DO YOU HEAR ME?’ is a warning; a courteous heads-up, if you will; a real-life read receipt; a not-so-subtle review before a pop quiz of ass whuppings; a yellow triangle conspicuously placed before a puddle of your future tears.

I’ve heard enough Do You Hear Me’s in my life that, even now as I write this, I shudder at phonetic memories of the enunciation of those ominous words.

So, yes, I hear you black woman. And you still have my undivided attention.