Jessie's Boy [boyxboy]

twenty | honesty

[ Black and Happy by Javon Johnson ]

B E F O R E T H E C H A P T E R

It often is easy to feel guilty if you're not on the frontlines. Considering having to come home to my parents who are high risk for covid, I have been experiencing a ton of anxiety over how little I'm contributing.

Recently, I realized how fucking unfair that is. I was 12 when I fully realized that this government was not made for me, for us. And it didn't dawn on me how much I hold myself responsible for fixing it.

How awful it truly is that we feel the need to place our bodies, our lives on the line during a global fucking pandemic. How we're spending money on protest gear and gas masks when 40 million Americans are unemployed. How we have to constantly spread videos and pictures of dead black human beings... And how nothing will change if we don't.

It's easy to forget that we deserve to live, that we're not obligated to go out there and stand tall in front of people that want us dead. It's easy to forget that your whole life doesn't have to be the movement, we deserve better than this constant state of rage.

We do not have to brave the KKK.

I've needed to remind myself this many times, we need writers, we need organizers, we need time to remind ourselves what's good about the life that we're fighting for.

The next generation should be born into a world that is slightly less hateful, yes but all you are obligated to do right now is be black and be alive.

And donate to bail out funds, read, sign petitions, call your senators, don't let the movement die even if it's just a gentle thrum within you.
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T W E N T Y  |  H O N E S T Y

I truly hadn't realized just how drunk Ofie was when I'd gotten there. Maybe it had a lot to do with the fact that the rest of his place already looked so fucked, I didn't realize that he did too.

Oro Vasquez was a lovesick puppy and, until then, I never really saw him as that. Maybe saying that sounded wrong but even beat up all black and blue, he was still asking about Nassir.

With watery eyes and a pout.

He hasn't talked about me at all? Does he not like me?

The answer to both of those was no. Sure, Nas and I talked a little more since he told me he was feeling something off in our friendship but he still stayed a little distanced. I'd ask if he wanted me to come over, he'd type for two minutes and then just send a "no."

He doesn't miss me? Does he miss me? Does he seem like, I don't know, like he misses me at all?

I didn't know if Nas missed me, let alone Ofie so his pestering was pointless. At some point, we had to assume that he just needed some space.

"I miss him, Li." Ofie's head rolled back on my shoulder as we sat on the floor. He was sipping on a beer that I wasn't sure when he popped open but really, I didn't have the heart to get in the way of whatever calmed him. "And he don't want nothin' to do with me."

"Oro..."

He was biting his lip, gnawing on it and I didn't realize that staying to help him clean up would pan out this way. I was worried about him, really, genuinely worried and he didn't want to talk about anything but Nassir Bakhtiar.