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No New Story Part 2:
My Story of a Black Man Realizing.


Wow. It has been two years since I wrote part one. I’m still very much Black in the thick of a capsizing America. What I failed to mention in part one were the horrific yet redundant stories of many. These stories, unlike mine, didn’t have a triumphant ending. These are the stories of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony Mcdade, and countless others. Few things have changed. We still operate in impoverished neighborhoods, lack adequate education due to defunding, and die at the hands of a corrupt and archaic socioeconomic system. Again, this is no new story.


This time, I had to write this. At the age of 29, I have witnessed more than the eyes, heart, and mind can carry. Sleepless nights, overworked mornings, and they still don’t understand “Black Lives Matter”? What’s there to explain? My pain, my struggle, my oppression? I refuse to give a lesson if history couldn’t give the impression. I have no suggestions on how to make it better for you. How about you make it better for US and listen when we speak? This is every second, minute, day, and week in this Black skin. I don’t want to hear about your Black “friend.” Tell me about the one you don’t know. See, I get it now. But if you see the riots, I am at peace with these words of no longer being quiet. America is capsizing. 


I once lived in undeserved gratitude. For a year straight, I took less on my plate even though I did my fair share of work. Imposter syndrome. I did the research, pulled the all-nighters, beat deadlines, and broke records, all with a smile. There was no team, no one willing to finance the dream. Soon, my tank was running empty. I finally got an offer. What I do is priceless. 


That decision to leave DTLR was freeing. For too long, I tried to shake an “attitude” and mask it with “gratitude” for things that I deserved. On to the next. What came after I’d describe as a beautiful disaster. The beauty came in the form of an entire life change. To think it all started with rap. I mean, I crafted captions before, but for 16 different social media platforms that I never knew existed? They never talked about copywriting and 

content creation in my neighborhood. I knew if I could bring some flavor to it, then one day they will. 


Look at me. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as far as most could see. No contract, yet beyond that, cash is no longer king. Knowledge and wisdom became my refuge. My inner circle called it my best move. Others say that I changed. Funny how, in my highest moments, I experience shame. Survivor's remorse. I’ve struggled with so much these past two years. The small wins and losses have made me cry, cheer, and still be cautious of what they think. I mean, I am a talented felon. Cover up when your privilege is showing. 


The plot twist is coming. You see, I am no longer running from my greatness. I said it in Billy Penn, and I’ll say it again: I know that I am chosen. My gratitude now lies in the people who notice. Never lose focus, give up on dreams, or be hopeless. My story is written, unfinished, and open until the day that I’m complete. 


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