Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

8,735 words Confessions

They say, millions have had some type of abuse in their life time. For me, I have a dark past. I too was abused in my life time. I vision the abuse. Sometimes the voices are louder than other times. Flash back. I could have been yet one year old placed in bed with my neighbor. The abuse can happen with anyone. This time, I was too young to know how my body was made. I had to have been shown by someone I barely knew. Doctors say my body had been made that way since child birth. I never heard of having a body like a whore and being born into it. I had not been five years old in the hood when some stupid boy wanted to play house. I did not know how to play house. It seemed to be a fun game, at first. I was misleading into being the mom and he dad in bed. By the time I was nine years old, my parents were being sued because I was immature. To prove their law suit wrong I had been misled by my brother. It was a critical mistake that would burn my life away. The neighbors asked to rape me. I did not know how lass Vegas were. I thought all girls were whores in this city. When I found out none of them wanted to be a whore, I found my place in the church. Funny, how my mother thought I brought it upon myself to be treated that way. I was eve that gave Adam the apple, mom always thought. I asked boys to rape me. I asked girls to call me a slut. It could have been provoked. I needed more time to reclaim my childhood. I did not ask to be picked out. It was a curse that stool with me. It is a mistake that could have been adverted, so critical in my life. A difficult decision that cursed me with the

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

scarlet letter. What had been done was neglect. People want to now know if I am gay. Why I am not married and have kids. I never knew a boy who did not want a serious relationship. I had been afraid of boys. I had been ten years old when the boy wanted to play doctor. Like house; there is no difference. It was a matter of time before he seduced me and was caught at it. I was in junior high, when the boys started asking me out. The boys in the hood only wanted sex. Boys only were about one thing and that was sex. It was a conversion. He forced open the door and backed me on the couch, kissing me all over. I thought at first it felt good under stress, only to ask him to back off. It was not right. My first kiss was my darkest. He spit down my back. It was infatuation. Mom would tell me that I was about nothing and unless I led on to those boys I would never amount to anything. The church supports marriage and having a family. I was always afraid of boys and relationships. My family encouraged me, only with me, I felt insecure to their threats. I would avoid briefings with boys behind closed doors with no solutions. It was beyond what appeared to lead on attentions and appreciations to mislead intentions. It was a lack of communication. I wanted a relationship with a man, where we would talk and be friends. I needed to trust him before I gave it to him. I wanted to know I was loved intentionally. That the relationship was not controlling. I felt mom never taught me how to love. All the abuse, led to my insecurity. It was something I never knew how to act because mom never taught me to love. I thought he was after the money. He only wanted to use me. I felt all he was about was neglect and abuse. I needed him to make me secure. I needed to grow up and fit this profile of maturation and stability that it was going to be alright. I was always afraid of being alone. I never was able to move on from my family on my own. I do not know what it feels like to take

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

care of myself without my mom telling me how to live. She never taught me the basis of surviving on my own. That I need to be reminded by god and his religion practices to learn how to separate our difference and forgive that that concedes my past to assume the danger and challenges and encounter opposition. And until I learn to do this, I will be a liberal single. Is there anyone out there for me? I wonder...it is a metaphorical dispute

Peer Pressure

Diary Journal

I have an anxiety problem. It started at a young age. My teacher will call on me and my heart beat would pound in fear of answering wrong. I was always afraid of people. I was afraid of speaking out because of the fear of consequences. Elementary, I spent most my time against the building wall. No one was willing to be my friend. It is crazy how children can abuse other children. I wanted to play with them, only, they ignored me and so I sat alone. When they did pay attention to me, it was to copy my papers. This was by junior high. They would get good grades if I let them copy mine. This is how I made friends with them, by sharing my work. I would often cheat for them. I would change their answers so I made friends. By high school, it got rough. The students made fun of the poor clothes I wore. I was humiliated so I stole my mom clothes to wear to school. I
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

was admired for it. I was from the ghetto and my teachers thought my grades should be like my neighbors. My grades dropped. I had low self-esteem for being poor and stupid. It is hard when my councilors suggested I made friends and everyone ignored me. I sat in the library before school, lunch, after school and school assemblies to do work. Dad told me I did not have to study for poor grades. I realized he was right. Students poured water in my chair. One student pulled my desk to the front of class. Students would hit me in my back as I passed by to go to class. Students would like let me turn in my assignments to the teacher. They were planning on me failing school with low grades like that. The most a drop out girl could be is a stripper or with children on welfare. I was determined to graduate out of the ghetto. College was different. Delusional that I was honors in high school, I worked harder for my grades and it improved. The voices were still there calling me a loser and questioning whether I deserved to be a college student. They made comments about my poor dress. I paid for college with my disability check. I was told I was a loser and I made it that far because of my parents. I always felt I made those grades because I worked hard for them. I was not someone they just passed up from special Ed each year. I was the person who went the extra mile that made the difference. I read the book and did the homework on my own. I did not want to become an individual; homeless and a loser. I wanted to make a difference in my life and with the lives of others. I wanted to become a teacher. I have been harassed. I had food thrown at me. I have gotten beat on. I never wanted to be a quitter.

Street Sconce

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

Diary Journal

Growing up in the ghetto street of Vegas can be rough. A friend told me to watch my back. I was walking to a friends house when gangs pulled up beside me and wanted to take me for a ride. I told them I had a jealous boyfriend. I was too young to have a boyfriend at the time. Girls stared with having boy friends at the early age of three. I could not walk the street were not safe, a boy threw his toy train at me and scabbed my head. I ignored it. It was just a boy. My brother and I had been learning to shoot a bee gun, when the neighbors from the back started throwing rocks at me teasing sounds. My mom sent him back outside until he won the fight. With those neighbors, you never know. One day a kid went to retrieve her ball from the same neighbors back yard and I heard gun shots with the women screaming that anyone dare come to her back yard. She was known as the crazy lady. A friend warned me of the boys that just want you for that thing. She said that the boys will ask you for a cup or sugar or water while mowing your lawn or washing your car just to get inside your house to get next with you. Boys were ringing my door bell like crazy by the time of puberty. I wanted it to all stop. Boys would buy my friends and me ice cream for favors. My friend always warned me of strange men wanting give me rides that are my daddys friends. She said they cannot be trusted either. Good thing she told me this. There were grown married men that are my friends that wanted give old pappy daddy some. The streets are worse feared of prostitution and gang violence. Just last week people were shot by a drive by at the

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

school. The boys would practice basketball at the school during the summer. Today, it seems no one meets there. The streets are not safe. The other day I witnessed a couple of friends die of gang violence in their front yard. Drugs are bad habit in the ghetto. Families are generation welfare or drug addict. Friends told me when you grow up you have a choice to either be a hair dresser, a stepper, on welfare with kids, a made, or a cashier. A garbage dump and engineering building was built providing hope to some of the boys who were in prison to get a job. It is hard to survive out fourth generation poverty. We are decedents of slaves. Many of us attend church to pray and ask for forgiveness of our sins. Prayer is a light at the end of the tunnel to hold us together. It is rough growing up in the ghetto. It is hard to leave.

Thought You Had It Bad

Journal

I have never been in love with Chris. Chris was a memory from my past that I always regretted. It seems to me we were never Involved In a relationship. He and I were friends. I made a pact with my brother that I would never date his friends, my girlfriends brothers or my girlfriends ex-boyfriends. Chris was off limits.

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

I am not in love with Chris. I have mistaken him form a memory of someone from my Imagination of a make believe love from my dark past.

I had been delusion about my past. I am confused. I remember playing with him and doing other things. It is all in my mind and not said to be reality.

I feel I have no one in my life. I have my family. At times, my niece is more grown than I am.

I like to listen to hip hop videos. I like their words and musical back ground. Listening to hip hop music reminds me of having friends I grew up with. My friends and I would always dance to music while we were together. I miss all my old friends. We all moved on.

I like to listen to music. I write music and paint oils. Through my poems I reach out to others. When I listen to slow music, I have fantasy relationships spending time with older men.

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

I blame Chris for destroying my life. Chris did not do anything to hurt me. I need to stop blaming others for my own mistakes. I am the blame my life is like this. If only we never met.

I dream of the noble peace prize in writing or getting a Grammy someday. This too is a fantasy of mine.

I do not remember Chris In a close relationship. I guess Chris wonders where we went wrong from me keeping from him so long.

I miss Chris. I felt I could really trust him. I had faith in him. I could talk to him about anything and he was a quiet listener.

I dream of being a celebrity. I want to feel Important. I want to be admired. I feel more criticism from people against me helping others like Jesus. I hear a lot of people condoning me for what I write. I am afraid of getting hurt.

It would be nice If Chris did not jack his pennies off every morning. I feel said when he does this. I catch Chris In action all the time.

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

I used to masturbate myself until I realized how sick this was. I have changed to a child of God.

I admit people are right. I used to shop lift. I would steal clothes by changing the price tag to pay a lower price. I never got caught doing this. This too stopped. I am a child of God.

I woke up once with Chris lying in my bed. It scares me. The thought of someone kissing my cheek while I sleep and running away. I imagine a prostitution ring in my sleep people kissing me and running away and Chris my pomp getting paid for it.

I thought I got pregnant. I do not know who my babys daddy is. Maybe its father came from my sleep. I never visibly saw anyone having sex while I lie awake.

My neighbors would ask me to be a hooker. I thought it was from being In Vegas life. It was not. Chris told them I would be a good hooker selling my body. The church saved me from behaving this way. My friends would ask If they could be my pomp and for me to stand on the corner while they get paid. I just cried and went home. I would only want to surround me around positive people. I see them no more.
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

I have a choice as an adult to either live with my parents or be homeless on the street. I chose to live with family. It can be harder living on the streets alone.

I would like to be active in school, only, I get nervous around people. I begin to hear voices in my head. I am not mentally a right to hear the voices. I rather stay at home in quiet reading or writing poetry.

At one point in my life I thought I wanted to commit suicide. I could never do this though. I could never overdose on pills. I like living too much. I get sad at times living my life this way. I like being around people I can change lives.

Chris had a way on turning the heat on my feet in the car that would make me excited. He could unzip his pants while eating dinner or spiting in my drink that made me thinks of Chris.

Sometime I would go to the store and look down and my zipper was undone. Men can be Hippocrates whistling at young people.

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

There were no records of signs of abuse growing up.

Chris wanted to raise my child as a step child into prostitution. I could not let this happen. He wanted to raise his children on my Inheritance and not do anything for my child. Chris gave all my children an abortion. He did not want me to have children of my own. I would be a base case raising his brothers kids In and out of prison getting raped and beat up by his kids and him not care. I could not let this happen. Mom only liked Chris because he had money.

Mom was crazy about Chris. She would beat me with a belt until my skin had red web marks all over. She always said it was for my own good and she was doing this because she loved me. She would slap me in the face and beat me if I did not clean right. I was beaten for bringing home low grades. I was beaten for not seeing Chris. If I cried, I was beaten for feeling sorry for myself.

I was a good child. I did whatever mom asked because of my religion. I love my family and I would do whatever to keep us as a family.

The doctor found a lymph node in my chest. It does not have cancer In It now. It has to be monitored.

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

I could not hate Chris for his Intentions. I could only pray for him Color When I begin to distinguish the line between color lines, I become color strict. High five. Oh my God, I begin to notice that God made the blacks with so many Hughes of skin tone. While white America looks at blacks that look alike, I appreciate the difference of a variety of color. It is like black men can be mocha Hough, coffee complexion, chocolate cafe, cafe late and many other colors that make the black male attractive to his black female counter parts. I am so sure that the black man relics his black sisters in the same context; beautiful like a butterfly. Color not only makes you wonder why the black male is attractive to other races for the same reasons of being a part of the package. I am scared of that. What is scary is color is what makes us human. When we realize we are no different than any other human. Light skin tone is no differently treated than dark skin toned. Like lighter complexion was seen for years trendy over dark tones because they had a skin closer preferably to match white skin tone. Black people have enough to succumb where they are fighting for leadership at all means if it is to break another black down to get there. Color is no longer a factor. Like the mulatto in Louisiana created deposition to socializing with dark skin toned men. It is an inferiority complex whether a person Hough of skin is light or dark. I would not touch this with a ten foot pole. When a black marrying a white is considered a bi-racial couple, when a black marries light and dark it is considered inter racial couple. It is kind of like this, for years it seemed that a light black complexion women was the closest thing to marrying a white

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

women when bi-racial marriage was unacceptable; for sure. Women have a problem with color when they compete with other cultures over men. Black women do not get along and now to meet their competition they date white men. Bi-racial marriage is becoming a social norm in the U.S. making race a myth over equality. Skin is only skin deep. What counts is like Martin Luther King said that we should not judge a person by the color of his skin, but the content of his character. America needs to go beyond color lines and feel comfortable in his own skin with what is inside of him. Bi-racial dating is something new and familiar. There are a lot of important figures who marry and have kids outside their race. The slave owner is said to have bi-racial children. It has been going on a long time and yet not fully accepted by all. Sometimes the relationship does not always work. Military are known to marry bi-racially. Sometimes if you are black you may choose someone your own pigment over another tone. Falling in love is more than a skin tone. It is caring for what is inside. White men have character too. They are also human. It is possible to meet someone from another country and being caught off guard to fall in love with him for his personality. It crosses the line with him and other African American men for people to question a bi-racial couple. It is surprising to see in America today that people are still color strict and feel that you better not test the boundary of biracial marriage. It is often compared to same sex marriage in a different way. Without the couple being the same thing, they cannot have sex, they cannot have children so why all the boo ha judging if they belong together or are they ready to have a child that is bi-racial or to look for another mom for their child is awful. The Lord says; do not judge because this allows others to judge you. Race
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

God bless the meek and humble for he may inherit the world - The Bible. I believe we live in a society that is inhibiting by nature. My childhood was during the early 70's and 80's. We called ourselves the newer old school which was the generation between new and old school. We had a certain way of doing things different than the new school. How we worked computers, how we solved math problems and with our technique of writing and studying to prepare us for college and life. We believed in it takes a village to raise a child. Our neighbors were always looking out for us to protect us from wrong deeds. The children knew they were cared for. Las Vegas was a small city where everyone knew each other. If you were in trouble; everyone knew and as you were punished - you were put to shame by all your friends. You may have not wanted to get into trouble any more. We survived poor resources growing up in a middle class neighborhood. If a neighbor needed something, it was provided by others. If a neighbor needed help cutting the yard or washing their car, getting medicine - it also was provided. Celebrations were where everyone would chip in to pay the expenses. It was necessary to attend church every Sunday. Church was a time to pray and socialize with parishioners who cared for the children as well. Every Sunday it was necessary to attend Sunday school to understand the liturgy of the Catholic Church. One had to wear dresses to church. On Easter and Christmas was a time to dress fancy in memory of Jesus. Everyone would mind their elders or they would be disciplined. And you better not act up in church because someone would be there to straighten you out. It was a time to pray. The women of the church were the threshold of the church keeping the faith in their child.

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

Today; children talk back to their elders. Calculators are used in schools. Ebonics is used in English classes. We would have detention every day after school with a packed class room of students being disciplined to do their work. Today; kids are not kept after school because no one is held responsible for not having their children to doing homework. Kids are not being punished for doing wrong. Children face being shot at school or in their neighborhoods. It is a society where gang violence is strong. Our children are going to prisons. Church is no longer as valued. It is where children can where whatever they can afford to church. It is not as sacred. Children pierce any part of their bodies and where it to work. Baggy pants and jeans hanging off their hips is a trendy style. Who is setting the trends? The society of rappers and hookers in the videos is where the children motto to become. Where newer old school valued a good education, children today know they will make the same money dropping out of high school with an associate degree. It is a different society than today. Children respond with negative comments to what newer old school thought it as talking back. Talking back to an adult was not heard of. Responding with yes mama meant giving respect to your elder. Making the most out of poor resources was survival in the world. We live in a society where the youth suffers being placed in prison to teach tolerance to a child. It is the tolerance taught back then that a child nurtured at home. It is a society of give and take, even if it means to hurt others. People pass by and not care likes the Good Samaritan. It is the attitude that gives or takes where if one had to destroy you to get what they want it is the only way out. It is the attitude what is in it for me. It is not a team of support like in the past. I feel no one really cares anymore.

Gender
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

When I begin to distinguish the line between color lines, I become color strict. High five. Oh my God, I begin to notice that God made the blacks with so many Hughes of skin tone. While white America looks at blacks that look alike, I appreciate the difference of a variety of color. It is like black men can be mocha Hough, coffee complexion, chocolate cafe, cafe late and many other colors that make the black male attractive to his black female counter parts. I am so sure that the black man relics his black sisters in the same context; beautiful like a butterfly. Color not only makes you wonder why the black male is attractive to other races for the same reasons of being a part of the package. I am scared of that. What is scary is color is what makes us human. When we realize we are no different than any other human. Light skin tone is no differently treated than dark skin toned. Like lighter complexion was seen for years trendy over dark tones because they had a skin closer preferably to match white skin tone. Black people have enough to succumb where they are fighting for leadership at all means if it is to break another black down to get there. Color is no longer a factor. Like the mulatto in Louisiana created deposition to socializing with dark skin toned men. It is an inferiority complex whether a person Hough of skin is light or dark. I would not touch this with a ten foot pole. When a black marrying a white is considered a bi-racial couple, when a black marries light and dark it is considered inter racial couple. It is kind of like this, for years it seemed that a light black complexion women was the closest thing to marrying a white women when bi-racial marriage was unacceptable; for sure. Women have a problem with color when they compete with other cultures over men. Black women do not get along and now to meet their competition they date white men. Bi-racial marriage is becoming a social norm in the U.S. making race a myth over equality. Skin is only skin

16

Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

deep. What counts is like Martin Luther King said that we should not judge a person by the color of his skin, but the content of his character. America needs to go beyond color lines and feel comfortable in his own skin with what is inside of him. Bi-racial dating is something new and familiar. There are a lot of important figures who marry and have kids outside their race. The slave owner is said to have bi-racial children. It has been going on a long time and yet not fully accepted by all. Sometimes the relationship does not always work. Military are known to marry bi-racially. Sometimes if you are black you may choose someone your own pigment over another tone. Falling in love is more than a skin tone. It is caring for what is inside. White men have character too. They are also human. It is possible to meet someone from another country and being caught off guard to fall in love with him for his personality. It crosses the line with him and other African American men for people to question a bi-racial couple. It is surprising to see in America today that people are still color strict and feel that you better not test the boundary of biracial marriage. It is often compared to same sex marriage in a different way. Without the couple being the same thing, they cannot have sex, they cannot have children so why all the boo ha judging if they belong together or are they ready to have a child that is bi-racial or to look for another mom for their child is awful. The Lord says; do not judge because this allows others to judge you.

I profess in Christianity. I believe God is eternal. I believe in the forgiveness of sins. I believe in confessions will save my soul. I believe in life after death. I believe in spirituality and after life. I believe in God and His religion. I do not believe a mistake I made as a child will have to hunt me through others moral faith. I believe that the mistake a child makes shall not define who you are as an individual in adult life.
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

Mistakes are how a child grows into an adult. I made the mistake of being with my brother at the age of eight. I confessed my sins then to a preacher and still today I am hunted down by people being called a whore when we did nothing but see each other nude. He was 12 and I was 8. He as the older brother should have told me not to. I feel sorry even today when I am on trial by his girlfriend that wants to label and misjudge me by an unkind act and mistake I made as a kid. I am still being judged where she wants to steal my child because of my past. I feel sorry that it happened. I hear rumors. I hear whispers. None of it is true. We did not do anything and people choose to speculate any way. I have never been with a man since the age of 8. Growing up I faced having rocks thrown at me, being called a whore, being called a lesbian, them stating I was desperate for sex and now with my therapist is judging my psychic life if I am justified as normal for wanting to keep by my religion and not have sex until after I am married. Priest who live their life like Jesus with no sex are labeled gay by outside religions. I know none of the things are true. Masturbation even is practicing safe sex. Selling your body for any type of monetary value is prostitution. My religion is against prostitution and yet I am judged for the one time at eight years old. I am almost forty now. I think of how many women have enjoyed sex so many times by the age of forty and yet I am labeled. It is discrimination. I am being misjudged. I admit it was a sin and I vow to die a virgin because of the curse from paranoia that led me to my decision. I feel verticality is the only way I can be free and my soul saved. If I led a life where I was to not date men, I would feel salvation from having sex. If I led a life to not have friends, I would be free from doing sinful acts. If I were to live in seclusion, I will alienate me from trespassers who do scare religious acts. If I were to practice the acts of kindness and being nice to

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

people the same ways I would want to be treated, my soul would be saved. If I lived a life practicing the words in the Bible, I will be free from desolation acts. They say an idol mind is the devil's den and I want to be free of sin. I feel I was cursed since the age of eight by the non-Christian people used it to ruin my life. In my religion it is a sin to use God's words in vein. I would never hurt a child by molesting it. I feel every child should be free from sin and live their childhood free from sex. R Kelly is an example of a sex predator that needs help. Michael Jackson was never proven to do wrong and with R Kelly they have proof that he has an illness to molest young girls even at 13 years old on video. It is because of their money and fame they got away with it and it is unjust. The priest that rapes those young boys in the Catholic Church taking away their virginity is wrong and should receive punishment for their sins. Somehow we must find salvation in religion and the church. My church says that if you confess your sins and you have shown God you have changed your soul will be free from sin. I believe I made a mistake as a child and I want to be forgiven.

My great grandparents were born in the early 1900's. They worked for a two quarters between them per month. They found work picking cotton from the fields in Mississippi. The currency was different then. It was hardly sufficient to live off of. My great grandparents made it as far as an eighth grade education. Then it was the highest grade. As high as college they assumed. The drove a wagon. There were no cars or television nor radio then. They walked many miles to catch the bus on dirt roads. Classes were taught in small one room shacks. There books were not upgraded and poor. The dolls were pitch black Aunt Gamma dolls.

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

My grandmother generation women could become nannies and maids. Men could find work in the civil service or something remedial even with an education. Their education made it as far as the 6th grade education.

My parents grew up in the Civil rights era. Mother says the only jobs available to Negro females were to become a nurse or teacher. One could earn as much as a few dollars a month. It was unheard of to become a secretary while it was for men. For men to find work; they could pick cotton. My parents were college educated.

They each talked about how the economy affected their lives. One could buy a candy bar for one cent and maybe go to the movies for a dime. The value of a dollar inhibited social living.

I did not find work until I was 26 years old as a cashier. I had a junior college education. I earned less than minimum wage at four dollars and hour.

They say one should not judge a book by its cover for you may learn a lot about life in finding truth in what is written inside.

Define integrity of the issues is a battle following the lead of misconception.

Insecure ignorant voices escape: Go home, go home nigger, you better quit. Ha, ha, ha we will show that dumb nigger who is the best. You can commit suicide nigger, we hope you die. How dare you give this dumb nigger a better grade? It is hard to believe that dumb nigger wrote this. The dumb nigger cannot add. The dumb nigger cannot spell. The dumb nigger belongs in prison. The dumb nigger has a mental problem. Who does

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

the dumb nigger think he is? The nigger ought to be scared of us. At least I did not get a failing grade like the dumb nigger in the class. Take your face mask off nigger, it is Halloween. Escort this nigger out with hand cuffs. The dumb nigger is just sitting in the class. Your skin is as dark as this black marker and marked on the skin.

On an episode on Good Times, JJ wanted to understand what it meant to be white as opposed to being black. JJ had lived this image for one day and he learned it is different. While a black cannot rub the black off his skin, it is a determining factor of how you look at life. Some people want to see segregation in society thinking the new era will change how it is perceived. Some may go to segregated colleges based on what they are they would identify and socialize better at a black college. While some may adjust well going to an integrated college. There is no difference in education. At black college; other minorities such as Jews may attend the school for profiling. The struggle to complete college is the same. Some men go to college just to join a fraternity for re pore. Some may pick a college by determining their activity and sports team that draws them to an education wishing they could take it back. Clarence Thomas rationalizes that there is no need for affirmative action. It is his belief that it only applies to the affluent in politics. It is where the privileged are attained to rights that lower class would not have the support. I would explain to Thomas that there is a need for poor to seek equal representation. That the affluent may have a better education and resources but that is a deterrent to the poor with poor resources that are deceived through profiling police. I would state that the poor may result belittling endeavors due to the upbringing of them that led them astray. That they need a second chance, prayer and hope to other outlets. It is where they need role models in the church and schools or leading groups like
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

fraternities to let them know there is a possibility to getting out the hood to being successful. There is hope of being ex-gang members to being affluent role models. Black should not be deceived where discrimination becomes an ailment to telling the poor they do not count and they should not have a voice. Education should open the door to opportunity to advance. Not all blacks who attend college are socializing. Some blacks are there to better themselves because they know regardless of background there is a chance to receive an education that can get them a better job. I went to parochial school. My school was small. Everyone knew each other. Attending parochial school was a privilege that not all encounter. It set a set of rules that are different than public school students. Because I had the background of being in class with prodomitely white I view things differently. Without the education of being in advanced classes with predominantly white, I would not survive college as I have. I have been confronted with the competition all my life.

No race, color, ethnicity or gender should be a dividing factor of selection that is granted the right to enter college, while there are so many dividing factors that discriminate on this basis.

Why should black athletes enter a college based on race? Why should men be encouraged to be better in Math and Science than women? Why is the population of

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

women graduates higher than men? Why should the population of ethnicity divide races on campus? Is any of this justification of why things are the way they are?

Are poor people deficient in entering college based on their learning disabilities? How many college graduates are mentally handicapped? Do we divide the blind and physically handicapped as being socially disordered? Should any of these things dividing barriers in college entrance?

No one should be discriminate against period. Many of these factors make college life more interesting. It becomes a challenge when students compete for college academics. With more competition, it raises the status quo of the college.

Students should be allowed in college if they meet the standards for entering school. This is determined by GPA and by meeting the standards of admissions. It would be fulfilling to find an athlete who can compete academically, to find women interested in math and science, to find more male applicants to finish school, to find college academics integrated and to find people with disabilities able to master academics.

The "N" word is not appropriate use in society today. The "N" word is defined by Webster's dictionary as a poor, uneducated black man. It should not be used by black people or others. It is a derogatory word that misrepresents the black race. It derivation came from the time of slavery and has carried on to be used openly amongst black people to referred to in jokingly manner. Blacks use it to signify justification. Some blacks acknowledge its use as inflammatory. The "N" word is used in music and the
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

movies in that everyone should relate to the word and to know its intentions. If derogatory words such as the "H" word or the "P" word or other inflammatory words are not acceptable use in society black should feel uncomfortable using the "N" word because it refers back to slavery.

Because I was born in 1969, after Civil Rights died, some people feel that I never experienced racism like they knew it being from that era.

I was born in Meridian, Mississippi from two school teachers down south country. My heritage implies that my ancestors were slaves; but I am part Choctaw Indian, Hispanic Indian and African. I am very much an American of middle class decent.

Segregation of schools was not effective in Las Vegas until the late 70's. I was the first black/African-American student who entered a parochial elementary school. I was the first black-American, poor that the school asked to be a Junior Alpha-Beta Honor Society.

There was a young black student who entered a parochial school named Angela who is reported missing according to the news of the 70's.

I do not agree that since Civil Rights died so did the issues die as well. As more programs were made to help the movement the bar has been raised for many minorities.

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

As being of Catholic faith, I have had confrontations outside my religious belief who beg to differ or confide within my moral faith. I have been threatened by non-Christians had rocks and eggs thrown at me because we were different.

I was always called the blackest student of my class. I had slave-like skin pigment to most the class as they refereed me. I felt that most the fair complexioned blacks had inferential treatment and was graded higher.

My great-grandmother was a Black Indian Princess and from this I experienced hate threats from being in disbelief that I was different than all African ancestry. I had my door and garage door kicked in. I was called a whore for being biracial. My Catholic faith does not believe in prostitution.

Some people thought I was oddity in that I did not communicate with others well. They felt I was trying to be better than they were. I believed in working hard for a good education. I felt studying was more important than getting involved with people who had been to juvenile hall, junkies, drug addicts or prostitutes. I was brought upon different moral than some people. I have never taken drugs like marijuana or cocaine. I never smoked cigarettes. I never believed in drinking alcohol. This behavior is different than most high school students and college students I knew. I was different and did not fit in with the in-group.

I was different because I was poor. Some people felt that because I was black and poor that I should fail out of high school and college to become a stripper or junkie on drugs. I stayed in college to study to become a college instructor instead.

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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

With my learning disability and mental disability, I faced many obstacles. It takes a lot of determination to want to strive to fight the decease to better myself. With medication, I have survived obstacles.

Most Paranoid Schizophrenics are homeless living on the street. I am a survivor.

One fine day I awoke with a vision of equality. The vision came to me as my imagination sought. I worked in the campus bookstore as a cashier. My duties entailed that I improvised good customer service skills. I was a journeyman because I had not known what I wanted to do with my life. My life seemed so incomplete until opportunity knocked at my door. The vision came to me with high stature of becoming a dealer. When I heard how much a dealer made in a year at the Bellagio, I acted on impulse to get involved in the Mirage dealing program. I was a poor black girl from the West side. I was not a popular college student. I had attended Clark County Community College for several years with no real major. I had an Associate of General Studies degree. Convocation was at the Nick Horn Theater. The theater was packed with a room full of beautiful black people. I had no idea at the time what this program meant. All the women were told to leave because the program was for black men only. Sometimes I forget I am black. I was too scared stiff to leave when they decided to include women in their program. It was to make something out of nothing to being accepted. I was beside myself. Professor Lonnie Wright was the type of teacher and role model that made his students into true achievers. I studied Blackjack under his instruction and I learned a lot in four weeks. The students were there for the same reason - we wanted to be dealers. In fact, there were many Blackjack classes going on at the time. There were over 100 student applicants for the position. The competition made us all better people. I had undergone the interview process. I was a hard working person who felt she had something to contribute to the dealing program. I knew how to solve problems. I knew how to work with people. I knew of the American dream that one day all people would be created equal. The program entailed the dream to African American dealers in Las Vegas. I wanted to be a part of this dream of opportunity. The day of the audition, I could not express more of the hope that accompanied my vision. I was nervous. My mother told me to read a passage from the Bible from the book of Psalm. When I took my audition I was nervous and yet flawless. Ms. Bingom and I had a conversation about painting. I wanted to work as a dealer to earn money so
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

I could go to college and major in Art at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. I had a purpose that supported good reason. I thought I would work a few years as a dealer and later be a curator at the Bellagio museum. The state of mind had been sky blue umbrellas, raincoats and hats danced in my mind not knowing if I would be selected to deal. At that day, my heart had been clueless. My heart jumped and skipped a few beats winding down the final decision if I had been chosen. I was told by an administrator at the school that I was a leader in the community to finish the program. Upon hearing this I began to make an ambivalent cry. I began to dance with excitement of hearing the news that I made history. I had too a dream of gratitude. I now work in the gaming lab at the College of Southern Nevada in honor of the dealing program creating opportunity for other students who share the same dream. Hope gave the ability of a generation of a dance team before their time. The yawning of the music and the aura from the crowd made the dance team visible. The pitiful short yellow and black shorts and yellow half t-shirts created a dance signature that was favorable to the audience. The dance teams moves were unique as they danced to the rhythm of Madonna and Prince. The black dance group was favorable to the black community because they introduced dance body movements, hand movements and feet movements never in the dance formation or combination in Vegas. Whites would dance using fancy hand movements, while blacks were known for seductive body movements and Hispanics and Asians used fancy foot work. To belong to the street dancers dance team meant you had to be good. Most dancers stereotypy was that they had big thighs, big but, light skin, long hair, big breast and you just about had to have juice to get on the dance team. Tryouts consisted of doing turns, pirouettes, and jazz and ballet movements. The team was a group of street dancers. The team had to know the latest street dances, rebuttal cheers and be able to dance to the instruction of the dance instructor without getting tapped out. If a dancer after routine after routine were tapped out, they would not be on the team. The dancers had to pass a live audition and then come before a panel to discuss what being on the team meant to them. The team captain would give a big speech and then tell us to take our hand and pat our backs to have accomplished this. I made the team. There were three mottoes the team had: better respect, better represent and you better recognize. Everyone knew this. The team would gather every morning at 4 AM for practice. The dance team captain expected the team leader to have music handy as well as new dance moves
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Angela Khristin Brown Short Fiction Story: Diary Confessions Writing Journal June 23, 2012

every time the group met. Once the captain saw this she would combine the dance moves to the beat of the music to create the team dance routine before game, parade or competition. One and two and one and two, three four, three four the team was prepared. Kudos to the team. It was the first time that the street dancers performed in the battle of the bands. There was always someone in the audience who questioned the ability of the team by asking them to leave. In order to be captain of the team, you had to have the team confidence and support to make the team work. The team was prepared and well organized. Our team was competitive. We were disqualified from performing in this competition because our team captain was guilty of stealing our dance routine from another group. This was a disappointment, when some of our group would give our routine to other groups to break us up. Their penalty would to drop them from our team. Everyone wanted to be team captain and so at times their was dishonesty. It got so that the captain would get a routine together before the competition. The team knew the routine, the captain leads and the team follows. The day of the national competition, I was not allowed to perform because of my race. We won this competition. The next year, our team entered the competition; our team was discriminated against because we were a rookie team. I paid money for the team to perform. This time I was allowed in the competition. Our rivals from the battle of the bands were tied for first. Their team cheated in the first round of competition. They copied our routine. We were so upset we were ready to fight. The team leader taught us to fight with our dance routine and not our fist. We knew the routine. The team captain leads and we follow. We won the prize because we were a good team.

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