so I just woke up from my afternoon nap to the skit at the end of kendrick lamar’s song “poetic justice” this skit is the reason that I am showcasing this mentally traumatic event from a moment in my crazy life, so here we go ..

SKIT

“i’m gon ask you one more time homie, where is you from?”

“aye ask him if he over here for sherane, aye you over here for sherane homie?”

“ion’t care who this nigga over here for , if he don’t tell me where he from it’s a wrap, i’m sorry”

“hol up hol up hol up hol up ..

we gon do it like this, okay,  i’m gon tell you where i’m from, okay,
you gon tell me where you from, okay or or or where yo grandma stay, where yo mama stay, or where yo daddy stay, okay ..”

“stop all this talkin’”

“as a matterfact get out the van homie, get out the car ‘fore I snatch you out that motherfucker homie.”

on march 28th 2007 when I lived in 4th ward, a not so good place in atlanta, I was walking home from school right in front of the martin luther king junior library. on this day, three niggas approached me from behind and gave me the whole “where is you from speech” I did not respond at all. I did not know what to do, but I did have a switch blade in my pocket .. I ended up not using it, but as I was walking into the martin luther king junior library, one of the niggas punched me in the back of my head, and I just continued walking. this is ironic because martin luther king was known his pratice of turning the other cheek, and this was not a method that I believed in since I worshiped malcom x at the time, and we all know he believed in the exact opposite and so did I, but somehow I did not on this day. anyway, I stormed into the library angrily and seen the niggas that just attempted to jump me shake hands with almost every nigga in that motherfucker. they soon left and I left hours later. that entire weekend I shadowboxed and shit knowing that I would see these niggas that tried to jump me again monday. I shadowboxed to lupe’s song “the emperor’s soundtrack” with tears drowning my entire face, hell drowning my entire body. turns out after telling my sister what happened, my sister told my mother, so my mother decided to start driving me to and from the bus stop. maybe this small change by my mother saved me from killing or being killed by someone on march 31st 2007, just maybe. for the next two years a quote similar to “walking away is not the same thing as running away” from the book the 33 strategies of war helped me to live with not fighting back and/or stabbing those three niggas on that day. I still mentally debate that if what I did on that day was the right thing, and if me doing the opposite would have resulted in my life being better or worse.

I must end this story by saying that if I had the skills back then that I have now (martial arts), I would have broken all three of them in halves. peace and love