What do I need?

I need a whole bunch of something magical.

I am the wayward. I am the weird. I am other. I am brilliant, I am a high creative. I know the language of energy and can work with it. I believe in what can’t be explained or seen. I am twisted from growing up without food. The chemistry of my body changed by meandering experiences of straight violation: abuse, cruelty, self hatred, internalized oppression, addiction, sexual and gender oppression, mental illness, separation from God and not knowing who I am as a Light Healer. 

Or some say witch, that is the caste I am assigned. I have been called a witch my whole life. They knew something I didn’t.

Today, we are in the stronghold of the caste system.

Classism, racism, sexism, have warped into ancient tactics of oppression and control. But mainly, to keep the bottom the bottom. To keep the bottom untouchable. As a woman from supposedly mainly African Nigerian and Irish descent,born in the US under the white supremist caste of Black… I am the least desired woman on earth. That is what the statistics say, let me ask Chad what he thinks is up. 

Chad says, “Most Privileged in Global Beauty Standards: White women, racially ambiguous/mixed women, East Asian women (influenced by media). 

Growing Representation & Desirability: Black women, Latina women, South Asian and Middle Eastern women.

Most Underrepresented Due to Eurocentrism: Dark-skinned women of African, Indigenous, and South Asian descent.”

Chad says it is subjective, but I know it is a standard rooted in the cohorts of white supremacy. 

I am Black. On every societal tier I am on the bottom. Do I believe I deserve the bottom or am the bottom, NO!

I am the chosen.

So it is going to be tremendously hard. I will have to bridge the gap of my deficits and be three times better than the best. That takes energy, consistency and a stable and secure home life. I know the Most High got me though, more opportunities of many choosing and the angelic and ascended support in the higher realms, is the source of my power.

I have had many many failures and tradedgies. And I know the average person would be too healthy to survive what I have. In my failures were great victories, because I made it! I dragged my broken body through the drudge to make it out. Many times I didn’t make it, but others I did. I mean, it was a beautiful victory from the underdog who choose to always live in the hood.  Because I shouldn’t have even made it.

Now I am in the room.

Me being present in the room is Grace.

Having the courage to stay and speak my truth is a miracle. To have the vision and courage to roam the earth, visiting country by country, looking for home. A place with people who love me, who celebrate me and I can be unreserved and show and express the depth of the creative love I have to offer. Loving. Kind. Compassionate. Clear. High Frequency. Water or Ocean. A being and community rooted in love. 

I will walk through the door wearing a hand crochet red shawl with glimmers of silver metallic and an African print patchwork floor length skirt, my feet bare with wrinkled toes and fat ankles, the light of my soul illuminating all around me, and through me, incoming from the top of my head, down through my body to the center of earth. My aura expands throughout me to all around my physical body protecting me from other people’s discord and lovingly connecting with people, inviting them into the brilliance and truth of me. I walk through the door and into the room. My eyes deep, small and focused, sometimes serious as I look and recognize who is in the room. My mouth painted with a red lip in a wide smile that brightens my eyes with the arch of joy, friendliness and welcoming. I put love in my heart, and let that love lead my words, words as sound as energy, extending from the purity and sincerity of my heart. The anchor of my heart reminding me, and those around me, that all those you only see in a flash, are behind me, supporting me, protecting me, are both ancient ancestry and the angels. I walk as a single figure perpendicular to sky, but I am not alone. They know, I am serious and my words, that come from my beautiful mind, are severe. 

There is no invitation to present, no face to recognize except those who used to walk by me in the street without noticing my invisibility. I am in the room. Ready and waiting for it to begin. If they ask me to leave, they will have to drag me out of there, just saying.