There is a subtle power to admitting you love someone. Admitting that there is a person in the world who you want to know, want the best for, and perhaps think of before yourself.
This is what we chase. This is what I strive to convey on screen, on pages, or by voice.
This thing, this power, I seek to capture, or remind the world exists.
For that cause, I write.
For that cause, I can’t give up.
I’m in mourning. Pray for me. -JBH
I believe once you become conscious of your own mortality, you fight for immortality.
You change diet, illuminate stress, sleep more… doing anything to stop the clock or wind it back in a few years.
The great sadness of it all is that we know and ultimately this is futile. Will know there will be one day where the Reaper will come for us… Yet, we hope that the day is a long time off.
That day, where the world will miss us, and we will no longer be in the world, yet prepare for the Great Getting-Up Morning.
We expect those in our world to be a part of our lives as much as they can as long as they can.
We speak to their hopes: so their heart don’t fail.
We sow into the talents: so they may not be discouraged.
We ask them to stay. We plead with him to stay!
We believe God with them, for them, to stay.
And yet they slip through our fingers in early mornings. Or late nights. When we leave the room unattended.
They leave because they’re tired. Or uncertain. And we are forced into mourning clothes. And pray they don’t fit too tight.
Life is steady, linear… And unfair. Yet for the great unfairness of it all, perhaps it is best that we not walk the clock too closely.
Which makes us forget the Reaper is there…holding it.
-JBHarris, January 2023
Written after the death of my adopted brother LeArthur Antonio Lee at age 40.
Thinking:
My grandmother was the indomitable presence, she could restore familial order with a look or a sound. She had the strength, and wit I envied. I aspired to master, not emulate. I wanted this essence she had. I figured if I had it, that wit would allow me to maneuver with ease through this life. Now, that same woman, granted mortality to teach us her descendants how to run, I learn was only mortal, perhaps more mortal than me. I now learn only a fraction more her after her passing. The regality of aging is not lost on me. I want to be able to retain a measure of grace and charm that will not make me stone, but won’t make a fool or trifled with either.
Good thing sanctification is a process.
-JBHarris, December 2013
Be content the great cloud of witnesses say.
All the mammies
Are dead
But they still speak
Reaching from ancestor
Planes, with burns
On their backs,
Limps, unwhole missing
Skin, Teeth and Limb
From the word no.
It is their strength
To survive they
Provide, while warning
Us of what it
Cost them to
say no–
And yes is better.
Yes to your will
Yes to your way
Yessa…Massa.
Warning us in dreams
Of the 2 faces of this
Life–peace and war.
Yet we war for peace,
And for our peace those
Who value nothing
War for everything!
Be danger of your
Fire because they
Liable to beat it outcha!
Cool yuh in the dark
Of the earth
Or make you new
Branches in juniper trees
Just do what they ask ya
Like they ask,
Yessuh, juss like that
Not everyone can
Run–
But not everyone
Can stay!
They died for our bravery
Bc no greater love
Has no man than this
To lay down his life
For his life for his friends–
Those whom
are alive and remain
And remain to be alive…
This bridge called
My back remembers
The lash,
And feet made flat
To go through grass
And swamp
As eyes water as the
Last memory held
Is being told not
To leave.
We have counted
The cost of fire
And bravery and
Bending the tongue
Of owners and masters
With the lips given
By The Word.
If He is always speaking–
Then so will we.
So will I.
-JBHarris, July 2022
It took me a week to write this. It took that long to write this because I am still processing all of it. I am actively, equally outraged, heartbroken and in rolling disbelief. The woman I had watched on YouTube for the better part of a decade, who I connected with through the gift of social media–for the better part of a decade–was murdered in her house because she was helping a woman leave her husband.
I am devastated. And here is why.
I was introduced to Jahaira through the YouTube channel MuchLove From KY (Ms. Nina!) who I love like an Aunt also. I liked Jahaira because she was funny, smart, and she changed her hair like I did! I didn’t even know Jahaira was trans until disclosed that. Now, was I raised to be homophobic or transphobic? Not at all. So, Jahaira being trans, was a small part of who she was. What endeared Jahaira to me was her authenticity, her love for the people around her, and her steady committment to make the world a better place.
I followed her YouTube channel (JahairasMission) for years! I celebrated when she got her associates degree. I rejoice when she enrolled in Simmons University to finish her bachelors degree. I was so happy we won her award! She was doing so much good in the world and to have her life snuffed out like this? It is so unfair.
I am reminded of the statistic that she gave when excepting her MOVA award about 3 years ago now. She said that the average age that trans women get to especially transwomen of color get to, is only 35. At the time of her passing, Jahaira was 42,43 years old.
Foolishly, I thought that she was passed that danger point! I thought that she had made it over so to speak. And that all the good in the world that she was aiming to do, the children that she helped raise, the love and legacy that she left—she was going to be able to be one of those trans women they got to see old age and seen the reward of all her hard work. I wanted that for her…
It is being reported out of Dorchester, that The person that murdered her was actually staying with her! He’s now in custody, and I am enraged!
I have been watching her videos on YouTube for a week because my mind cannot wrap itself around the fact that this woman that I knew, who had gone through so much, who was destined to do so many good things is GONE!
It is being reported out of Dorchester, that she was murdered by the estranged husband of the woman she was trying to help to leave him. He wound up killing Jahaira and his estranged wife!
This ain’t right. This isn’t fair. And I don’t know how I’m coping. I can only imagine how her mother feels! Jahaira DeAlto is the 21st trans woman to be murdered this year. Yeah, even in all of my grief and anger, I’m choosing to do the very thing Jahaira reminded us all as her sub tastics told us do: LIVE.
And with that four letter word, let that be her legacy. She encouraged us all to live and live unapologetically. Owning every last piece of our truth, embracing every flaw that we have, and celebrating every victory!
See you one of the other side, Jah.
My mother
Saint and sinner
Giver of life
and words
I wonder now
How can live
In this world
Without her?
-JBHarris, August 2020
It is a hellified thing to go to work everyday knowing your managers think your existence is an issue!
At my current day job, I have actually heard the following phrases:
“I’m so sick of these protests.” My nurse manager said this. This woman hires and fires people.
“I’m tired of hearing about Black Lives Matter.” A nurse I work with said this.
Now, understand this. I am a proud Black woman, working in a White space, with White people whom have no idea what it is like to be either Black or female. They have no idea that when I get in my car to either drive to or from work, I am hyperaware of police. They have no idea the true reason why I don’t friend co-workers on social media!
The work answer: “I’m really not on social media like that.”
The real answer: “There is no way in God’s creation I will give you people they kind of access to me when I KNOW how you feel about my Blackness! You just want to spy on me!”
Look, I have children. I have rent. Car payments. And it is a global pandemic! I need my job…and yet I have to navigate these spaces as Black, woman and activist. I realize that my activism is a deterrent and target in spaces where I don’t have agency. Right now? I don’t have agency.
But, there’s a work around for that. I keep the Activist Self and Employed Self separate. Employed Jenn can’t say/do what Employed Jenn can! And I’m learning that. I can be both, do both…and still block everyone I work with on social media.
I exhaled when President-Elect Joe Biden won. I had been holding it since November 8, 2016. I was at work when the election was called for Donald Trump four years ago and had not even realized I had been holding my breath. I had taken a sabbatical from social media in September, determined not to venture back into the quagmire of social media until after this election.
I was scared. I was more scared than I have ever been in my life. And I have been in some scary, crazy situations in my almost four decades. But this? This here?! No, this fear was ancestral, primal and I have never felt more helpless! But I am getting ahead of myself.
I gave in to curiosity and turned on my television on Election Night, after working the night before–I stayed up to go vote. I didn’t want to risk going home, sleeping, and shenanigans break out about my poll place. For reference: I am in a red state (Missouri), governed by a COVIDidiot (Gov. Mike “I hate science” Parsons), and I am a Black woman. I had my voter registration purged, and had to re-register. So participating in this election I knew would be a fight! But, I had been ready for it. And I put myself in seclusion since before Halloween. I turned by notifications off. I didn’t check Facebook. I didn’t go on TikTok. I hunkered down.
I waited. I prayed.
When I peeked at my social media because of curiosity, I almost started screaming crying. I saw a sea of red–just like in 2016! I saw Joe Biden’s lead shrink, and I panicked. All I saw was red, and as I sat in my apartment by myself, I fought tears. I was on the phone with my love and he told me, “It is going to be okay.” That was a slap in the face! I told him he had no idea what that meant! I told him how scared I was! I was scared for my daughters. Scared for my mother and sister. Scared for my godmother, queer family, activist family and everyone attached to me. I was so scared I wanted my father–and he has been dead for almost 20 years. I wanted my father because that was the only man that I had ever known that would be able to protect me and my daughters. I could not breathe. I called my Godmother Vickie and panicked in her Facebook inbox. She told me not to panic–and that brought me down from a 20 on a scale of 1-10, to a solid 10.
My chest was tight. My hands cold. I paced through my house, and fought tears. I thought where I could go with my girls. I am divorced from my first husband (and father of my children), and he lives deep in Trump Country Missouri. Due to paperwork and wording of my divorce decree, I couldn’t move without his ‘permission’. I knew he would never give it, and he would never let me leave! I knew he wouldn’t understand, and would not protect the girls like they would need! I knew that he would deny my fear, say I was overreacting and say I was ‘trying to take his kids.’ It was the most obscene sort of auction block. I could not be assured the father of my children would be able to protect them–or have the desire to!–and he would do all in his power to make my life a nightmare, while I try to protect these children from the world, the flesh and the devil! With that knowledge, I realized just for a moment, what the ancestors felt while enslaved. I was in a land where the people in it wanted my death, my body or my complete erasure. And there was nothing I could do about it! NOTHING!
I got to bed after 2:00 AM that night. And it took all of my faith to pray, and pray to sleep.
My mother, my sister and I supported one another through this madness! My mother and sister were watching CNN/MSNBC as recounts were happening, and when the mail-in ballots where added and the map began to change. We all watched and prayed. Prayed and watched, needed Nevada, Georgia, Arizona and Pennsylvania to certify their results and call this election.
It was my sister that texted me to let me know Saturday, November 7, 2020 at 10:41 AM CST this: “Biden wins Pennsylvania, biden in the 46th president elect! “bout to lose ‘yo job!” Then, I exhaled. I know that President-Elect Biden is not White Savior. Yet, neither is he a incarnation of Nero, starving for the blood of the poor, Black, Brown, Latinx, queer, Muslim, etc. There is still work to do, and now that I can breathe? I can fight again. Too much depends on the next four years to be silent!
Special thanks to my TikTok fam for getting me through the crazy of Election Night and the days that followed! Namely Conscious Lee (@theconsciouslee); Quentin (@quentinjiles); Tommy (@my_doode); Jason (@bardude97); Nicole (@nikkinoo813); Sunny (@_sunny_laluz) and Tiffany (@doubledeemuva). If you want to follow me, I am @whatjayesaid.
I have been a fan of Jada Pinkett since she was Lena crushing on Dwayne Wayne on A Different World (SN: I so need A Different World to be on HULU!)! I always thought she was short and loud, and reminded me a little bit of my Aunt Linda–never a bad thing. I remember her being pregnant. I remember her marrying will–I mean she is besties with Tom Cruise at one time! Like she was the reason I wanted to keep my hair short! Her legacy and impact (for me) has always been bigger than her being Stony in Set It Off!
I know that she is the daughter of an addict. I know she and her father are either estranged and or never got along. The most infamous part of her public life has to be her relationship with Tupac Shakur, son of Afeni Shakur. If you want to make an insecure man mad, mention the connection between Jada and Tupac! Every time there needs to be a documentary about him, someone go gets Jada. I mean, the synergy she had with him–that is nothing but Twin Flame energy!
With following her career, and her journey in being a mother to her son and daughter, I thought this thing with August Alsina was a stunt. And I still do! So imagine how crazy I felt when this manchild produced all these receipts about their relationship! And yet with all this dirt thrown on her, I only have observations and a radical empathy. It is that radical empathy that made me hesitate in weighing in about this! I have been Jada. I have been Will! I have been August! And for that reason–radical empathy.
In that radical empathy, there is a dose of truth. Multiple doses. And if you are a woman past, 35–you already know where this is about to go! I am going to base this on what Jada said in this Red Table Talk–which was DEMONSTRABLY SHORTER than any other Red Table Talk. But I get it!
Women of a certain age don’t like to talk about the things they believe are embarrassing or painful!
But the semantics, Jada! The word play! That told me everything I needed to know. Will said, “We were on a break.” Jada said, “No we were over.”
RIGHT THERE.
And Will’s face was a mixture of “I can’t believe she did this” with a dash of “I have to relieve this again!” It is always most interesting to watch a man’s reaction to a woman’s indiscretions. Yet, that isn’t the buzzword is it? Ah, yes. Entanglements.
When speaking about this ‘indiscretion’ they couldn’t get the definition of what she had actually done. She called this an situation an ‘entanglement’. Will called it a ‘relationship.’ And he laughed when she called it an ‘entanglement.’
THAT’S TWO.
I know Will is hurt by this! But what I got from Jada looking at this was, “I was tired of feeling bad. I was tired of doing for everyone else. And no one looks out for me!” I get it. She was tired. She was angry. She was wanting to feel something else. This is the language of a woman that has tried to be some many things for so many people. It is the language I have said myself when admitting that the situation I found myself in demands more than what I have! I have BEEN Jada!
Yet. What I find more interesting other than semantics, is the reaction from Will! I mean when he said, “Really, Jada?!” I felt like I got a peek into the fight that happened when all this was revealed. It truly feels like there is more to the story than what we are seeing! But, as I watched I saw Jada in the space of “This is the truth, but this aint nunna y’all business!” Oh, Jada! You have been in the public eye for more than 20 years! You know that people will always have something to say–but we we see now is that there is some DEEP stuff going on.
Jada wanted something for herself, and is used to fixing people! It is deeper than this woman being ‘friends’ with her son’s friend! It is! I mean, think about this! She was in a relationship with a man/manchild that was SICK when she met him! That’s codependency at it’s finest! But in that space of being a support to this young man, she may have felt needed. Wanted, even!
As my mother says often, “You aren’t the first woman to be tricked!” And this is no different! She thought she would feel young again, more desired, ‘more like herself’ in the arms of someone else. I mean, I have been there! Conversely, she put the thing down, flipped and reversed it! I THINK when either she said, “I’m going back to my husband.” or “I don’t to see you anymore.” And Lil Aug couldn’t cope! It was a Stella Got Her Groove Back Moment. He wasn’t supposed to catch feelings!
Now look at him! Aired all this information, spilled all this tea, and people still don’t know who he is! And the corner conspiracy theories of the internet are saying she is still in love with Tupac (maybe, maybe not). That might be so. With that, Jada will have to reckon with that. And there is no Red Table Talk when you have to look at yourself in the mirror.
My mother, the Grand Amshun, cried at the birth. The pain of the birth of a were whelp is never easy. I remember the crushing pain on my hips, and how that pain flooded my back. This ripping fire that had consumed me. The midwives, … Continue reading With An Heir (Tzipporah)-#10
I Breathe Fire 