I didn't mean to.
A woman waited to cross the street on Slauson Ave. She looked hot. Tired. Worn out. Cars passed and passed and as I came to pass, I stopped. I waited. She crossed. Cars slowed and stopped as she passed.
Today I cried for women. I didn't mean to. But our sweaty, tired, and worn bodies are passed by daily. Hardly given a chance to get to where they need to be. I started driving. This time a man waited to cross. I was already willing to let him pass me safely. I waited. It was obvious to me that my truck would stop everything around me. I said to myself "maybe they needed me to slow traffic down so they can get across".
Today I cried for men. I didn't mean to. But they're expected to be strong and gentle. Kind and aggressive. Beautiful and rough. I cried because in every attempt to love our men we have left them to feel neglected. We have left them with out our protection of faith.
Then I cried for Nipsey. I didn't mean to. But his beautiful brown face brilliantly placed in a cascade of reminders that I am and will always be the answer. His presence still alive in a place that he loved. Goose bumps covered me entirely as I drove past his final resting place. My passion for beautifying people met with the motivation he so famously represented. I cried hard. Uncontrollably. The weight of his fight weighing down on my purpose. Pushing me to be the leader I was meant to be.
Tomorrow I'll cry with Nipsey. I'll mean to, and I know he'll be proud of me.
Rest Well King Nip
