Wednesday 3 May 2023

A Hungry Succubs walked into my life

The thing about shame is that it is a ghost that haunts you. First, in your nightmares as a foe so mighty it feels as though at any moment if you do not wake it will consume you into its bottomless unforgiving dark ditch, then in the waking day it's the shadows that move at the corner of your eye, the thing that goes bump in the night. It's a globous sensation that no amount of coughing or spit swallowing clears. 

I have no choice but to do this and to do it like so. 


Some time back I connected with someone at an event, I thought I had met someone who could one day become a mate - making friends as an adult can feel like trying to draw blood from a stone - we spent time together, exchanged books and generally just shared, it was at the time nice. 


This person tried to blackmail me by fabricating claims against me, I refused to pay them, and they refused to go to the police. Instead, they had begun to spread baseless accusations in an attempt to force my hand. Our justice, cultural and societal systems have been built to protect some and not others. It's qwhite fascinating in that way.


Lowkey this feels like shouting into the void. I wasn’t even given the opportunity to share my side of a fundamentally three-sided story. Their version, mine and the truth. I am not here to defend myself - I am comfortable with the knowledge that there are various versions of me out in the world that do not relate to the reality of who I am - I am here to stand with Black men, women and non-binary folk who have been wrongly accused and not given the opportunity to share their truths. As a survivor I am doing this for Black survivors, you are worthy and deserving of protection, defence and a consecrated sense of self. May you find your truth, your centre and may you have the confidence to move from here, regardless of who will or won’t believe or hear you.


I will not be made to drown in the stanky rivers of shame on account of some motherfucker wanting to make money off of me. I am doing this, this way because I am fucking tiyaaaad. Tired. What I will do is take personal responsibility for not slowing down enough to see I was been got.


My joy, my light and my love will not be minimised so that some money-hungry succubus can feast on what I have worked tirelessly to recognise, in myself. Ultimately you will make your own conclusions about me. At this point, I leave the rest to God knowing that my intentions are read and received by those that see me and the universe.


My word of advice is when your life is unsettled and you aren't all there it is not the time to make new friends. Learn from me so that it isn't in vain. 

I questioned my intentions before I clicked share, but this is for the times I needed someone to shout for me when I couldn't; for the 'oh that wasn't fair' whispers in the bathrooms, where the sinks rinsed off any sense of comradery, that lasted the duration of a handwash. This is for the bullies that were only loud because the echoes of their minions acted like an amplifier. This is for the times I thought it was pointless, 'fuck em anyway'. 


One thing about me yeah is that no weapon formed against me shall prosper; I understand that sometimes we must get burnt to know fire is hot, but one thing you should understand is I am not afraid of fire. 


This is nothing new; white people see Blackness and the expression of Black joy as something they have to quell. Historically and Contemporary culture continues to show us valid examples of this.