Did you read my Part 1 post yesterday? If not, read it before diving into this one, so you don’t get confused and lost.

If you read yesterday’s post, let’s get back to my time travel to the early 1800s. And let me answer you before you ask. Yes, I’m also trying to track the other black folks that were listed as the enslaved property of my 5x great grandparents.

I do know that some Black slaveholders would buy enslaved people to free them from white owners, and provide them safety and security. But I also know that some Black folks owned other Black folks and saw it as pure economics. I haven’t located enough of the records to ascertain which “folk” my great grandfather was. When he passed in 1832, he left his wife almost 700 acres of land, hundreds of cattle, hogs, horses, and three enslaved people (two men and a woman).

In 1840, the census shows my grandmother and everyone (over 30 children and adults) residing with her on her property as Free Colored Persons. In 1850 it shows her owning three slaves. I assume these are the same three listed in my grandfather’s estate. I’m going to find out those details. I can guarantee you, once I do find that information I will be sure to update you.

Some people shy away from that period of time. I run towards it and in a positive way. It’s history; their story, my story, and I’m not ashamed of it or angered by it—well, let me clarify that last point. I am extremely angry, disgusted, and dismayed by what I’ve learned about the enslavement and treatment of Africans and African Americans, from the moment we were snatched up as property and dehumanized, to how the US (and other countries) have chosen to not reconcile the wrongs and heal the wounds inflicted upon us, then and since.

Let’s be crystal clear about that.

But, I will not allow my feelings of hurt and disappointment change my heart. What was, has, and still being done to us (and dismissed through rational-lies) hurts my heart. Yes, for those of you who are quick to yell “What about what Blacks have done to each other” as though Black people are naive, dumb, incapable of distinguishing and properly addressing our grievances— yes, my heart hurts for the pain that Black people cause each other. And let me double back real quick, the defense of “We did but y’all did some of it too” is plain ignorant and cowardly. It’s an attempt to reduce responsibility and accountability. Guess what? That too hurts my heart.

I’m also hurt by the pain that religious people, Christians and the like, have caused, pimping God(s) in the process. No one’s God(s) would want people to be mistreated as we have witnessed before and since the 1600s. There’s not one god you’re praying to that condones the nonsense of this world. Let’s get in agreement with that.

All of the damaging energy that humankind uses against its own (and other species) is disturbing to my heart. But it will not control it. I will not allow myself to become the very energy that chose and chooses evil. I loathe that energy but I will not hate the people who choose that energy. That energy wants me to hate, to become that which I hate. I rebuke that. My heart and mind must work together, to be controlled by me, not the world.

Now that we’re clear about that, let’s get back to the story….

My grandparents both died before they could hear the battle cries of war and later, freedom. My grandfather passed away in 1832, when Andrew Jackson was President, and Harriet Tubman was still enslaved in Maryland. She didn’t escape (the first time) until 1849. Frederick Douglass escaped to the North in September 1838 (changing his last name from Bailey to Douglass) and hadn’t written his first book until 1845. So these two legends rose up after my grandfather had long passed.

When my grandmother passed away in 1858, James Buchanan was President, it was the year Harriet Tubman met John Brown, and one year later helped him with his raid on Harper’s Ferry. Two years later Abraham Lincoln would become President. The civil war was from 1861 to 1865, with the emancipation proclamation issued in 1863. My grandparents children and grandchildren grew up and lived through those periods. But none of them experienced it as the property of someone else. That had to weigh heavily on them.

One day I will share with you my take on ole’ Jim Bowie, the American hero, who fought alongside Davey Crockett and others. I will share how I’ve traced my Scottish Bowie’s (his part of our family) to North Carolina, up to Maryland (where the first Bowie’s arrived) and then all the way back to the town in Scotland where the patriarch, John Bowie Sr. lived before coming to the colonies around 1705. I will also share how I’m connecting to my Scottish roots. I know my history, my ethnic DNA doesn’t lie. I’ve got Scotland in my bones. Just as I have Ireland, England, Wales, Germany, and other European nations woven inside of me.

But I won’t share today.

Today is about me smiling, visualizing that huge chunk of a moment when the shackles of slavery were removed off a branch of my super huge family tree.

I wonder what my 5x grandparents’ prayers were like leading up to and immediately after those days; I wonder how they prayed knowing themselves to be free but knowing others near and far were still being bought, sold, and traded. I wonder their thoughts about these other people never being able to see the lands they came from or that their parents and grandparents came from. I wonder if my grandparents ever thought about the reality that they would never know their native language, culture, and customs—and neither would millions of other enslaved and free Black people.

Imagine reconciling that in your mind. I wonder what their dreams showed them. I wonder if they imagined me, their future, far-removed from their time, and what they hoped for my generation. I benefit today from all that they sacrificed, lost, and labored. I hope they are proud of my journey and the ways I honor them and their legacy.

Okay, so you read my answer. I gave you two days worth of immersed historical dreaming, fact-sharing, and truth-speaking. Now’s your turn. If you could witness a time in history when would it be? Share the details in the comments section below.

~Natasha

Copyright © Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

If you’re doing God’s work on all of the religious days that you recognize, but doing the Devil’s work on all or most of the other days, then who are you truly worshiping and serving?

God said that we can’t serve two masters, one we will will hate and the other we will love, or one we will be devoted to and the other one we will despise [Matthew 6:24; Luke 16:13]. That’s the conflict of interest tug-of-war. Who will you choose to love, be devoted to, and serve?

~ Natasha L. Foreman

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Reflecting over the days and years, looking to the research on abuse, the history of slavery and captor-captive relationships, and the enduring and devastating trauma. I want to share my thoughts…

I believe that trauma can cause some people to celebrate when their abuser hands them trinkets and tokens of “reconciliation”. They don’t realize that these “gifts” are merely distractions and attempts to downplay and normalize the sustained abuse, while never admitting it and never ceasing.

The abuser uses these moments as part of their research and development efforts. They track the points along the way where you bend to their ways based only on their promises of a better life, freedom, etc. They note your highs and lows. They test your thresholds. They look to see at which points you showed strength and resolve, and the times when they thought they had almost broken you.

Can they make you grovel, beg, try to negotiate, compromise, sacrifice your dignity and humanness, rely upon them more than your own Creator?

A checklist.

The abused convince themselves that the abuser “Is trying” and “It’s a step towards progress”, “It’s better than before”, “I should be appreciative for these gifts”, and “I deserve these gifts after all that I’ve endured and continue to endure”. You’re conditioned to see these moments as a reprieve from savagery. Maybe even as a sign of better days to come.

But deep down your spirit and soul cry out, knowing that the abuser has not and will not stop. The abuser will only repeat this cycle as it breaks you down, round after round, until you finally begin to see yourself as the problem—until you believe the abuser is your savior, who you should be role modeling. The goal is for you to see yourself as inferior to the abuser. As powerless and dependent upon your abuser.

You begin to repeat what the abuser whispers to you: If only you were more pliable, forgiving, and accommodating. If only you would assimilate into the system the abuser has crafted with great wickedness and precision. If only you stopped resisting and protesting. If only you would give in and let your reality be created, managed, and ruled by your abuser.

“You’re not oppressed, that’s just your weak mind talking”. That is what your abuser says. “Your life is better than it’s ever been” so says your abuser. “If you were oppressed you wouldn’t have….” and “You’re an ingrate. Look at what I’ve given you all of these years. This is how you thank me!”

Those are the words of your abuser, your oppressor, your slave master.

We are hostages who keep clinging to the desperate hope that our captor will one day do right by us. Many of us have been convinced that our captor is our friend, who has given us privileges we could not gain without them. We have assimilated out of desperation for the pain to cease. Sadly, it doesn’t. So we blame other captives for causing the added pain through their delay in surrendering.

A lot of us don’t realize we’re tumbling through decades and centuries of generational Stockholm Syndrome.

~Natasha L. Foreman

IG/FB/Twitter: @natashalforeman

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved. NatashaForeman.com

What I’m about to share may ruffle some feathers. It may cause some people to become defensive or offensive. That happens when truth is revealed, shared, and analyzed. Just make sure you don’t come at me with daggers. You will only cut yourself. Don’t come at me with punches. You will only hit yourself. If you come to divide, only your mind will be divided. I’ve warned you.

Let’s talk about it…
Checkers, chess, or Connect 4?
Why our lives are even in play, as a game…but they are, so whatcha gonna do about it?

When you should know the propaganda machine will crank out more vitriol than you can counter, how do you stay ahead so you can overcome?

Leaving out the adverb “TOO” left deniers of truth to say:

1) “ALL lives matter”

2) “BLUE lives matter” (although “Blue” isn’t a demographic).

3) “Well if Black Lives Matter so much to you then why aren’t you protesting Black-on-Black crime?”

4) It’s racist to say BLM or Black Power, or to call out white privilege, or to acknowledge that wealthy white men dictate whose life matters

These counter-moves puts Black people and our allies in a constant defensive position, trying to reason and rationalize with an unreasoning mindset that loves to tell rational-lies.

We thought video footage of the horror we face would be enough, but now the counter-argument is, “Please provide context”

We thought having white sympathizers protesting beside us would cause a surrender to the truth. What we get in response is, “They’re ALL thugs, terrorists, unpatriotic, unAmerican, enemies of the State, libtards, anti-police”. We hear that our sympathizers are “just pandering to Black people in this ‘woke’ era”.

When you have Black people complaining that white insurrectionists were able to storm the US Capitol and be called “patriots exercising their rights” while Black people and their allies have been called everything but—what does this say? What does this show and prove?

When you see that there are forces trying desperately to take away your vote, your right to vote, your right to equal treatment under the law, your right to protect and defend your body, your family, and your property—yet when you cry out about this, you’re told that your truth, the truth, is not their truth—so it is dismissed and devalued.

When you exercise your 2nd Amendment Right, the NRA is mostly silent in your defense. When you have no weapon but the attacker does, the NRA says the attacker “had a right to defend themselves as they feared for their lives…” Whose life truly matters?

When you’re told to “stay in your place” and “be glad for what your people have been given and what your people have achieved” as though you’re children. As though you’re still property. Yes, still slaves. The difference is that now you have access to some luxuries and can live wherever you can afford. Your new plantation is whatever area your paycheck defines. It’s all smoke and mirrors folks.

This puts Black people and our allies in a constant defensive position, trying to overcome the counter-moves, trying to prove the genuine and earnest alignment for human dignity. This leaves other POC at a major disadvantage because the reality is, if Black Lives DON’T matter, then neither do Indigenous, Asian, Latin/Hispanic, or any other non-White life.

Are we playing checkers while the powers-that-be are playing chess? Or worse, are we playing Connect 4 while they’re playing chess?

How would things have been altered if we had said “Black Lives Matter TOO”?

It sucks when you feel like your life only matters in two instances:
1) anti-abortion debates
2) military recruitment/draft

Valuing Black lives doesn’t devalue White lives, Black power doesn’t weaken White power (well except in weakening the power to crush Black life and dreams), Black votes don’t disenfranchise White votes, Black rights don’t take away White rights, Black life doesn’t sacrifice White life, Black wealth doesn’t snatch away White wealth—nor does it stop the impoverished White person from gaining wealth.

When poor White people start to realize that even with the privilege their skin provides, they too are an economic and social minority—despised by wealthy whites more than POC are despised—and they choose to stand (without faltering) with BIPOC rather than fight against them, vote with and for BIPOC instead of against them, build with BIPOC instead of building walls to keep them out—then the tides can begin shifting towards empowerment, inclusion, and freedom for all people.

When they realize the power they possess to sling down the Goliath that keeps 99 percent of the nation groveling for scraps, then they can force the powerful hands that bind the disenfranchised. They then can stop counter-arguing every police attack on Black people with, “Statistics show that poor White people face as much police brutality as Black people”. The fact that you even researched and shared this only underlines why this human rights fight is also your fight, beside us, not across from us—with us not against us. For the same system that binds us is the same system that sneakily binds you. For there are more poor Whites than Blacks, statistically. There are more Whites on state assistance than Blacks. More White “welfare queens” than Black ones. And Blacks don’t have the power and privilege to make that possible. So who does?

Is the dilemma that poor Whites face is in accepting the fact that until Black Lives Matter TOO, their life won’t truly matter either, they will still be seen as trash, worthless except to raise hell and do the dirty work of the wealthy? Is it difficult to swallow the pill of multi-generational hate aimed at a people they were taught to believe they were better than simply because they wore a different color of skin—while blaming those same people for rising from the ashes, sometimes surpassing them? Your great great great great grandparents were lied to, and every generation leading to you were lied to. You have been lied to.

It has to be maddening when you can’t really explain the hate and you’re too afraid to place blame squarely where it belongs. You’re boxing with shadows. With smoke and mirrors. Face the truth. It will set you and all of us free!

Let that sink in.

Share your thoughts below. Don’t come at me sideways with vitriol, you will only find yourself kicking a can, alone…

Love always,

Natasha

BLM #BLM2 #BLMToo #checkersorchess #unify #unity #smokeandmirrors

Copyright 2021. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Do you understand this difference?

Prepare yourself for the tests. Learn the lesson, preferably on the first attempt, because who really likes taking tests over and over again? Get out of your head and get out of your way. There’s so much to see, do, experience, feel and explore in this vast world; we’re wasting time and precious moments re-taking tests!

~Natasha L. Foreman
P.S. Thank you Arleen for sharing this image with me this morning. As you can see, I’m paying it forward!

I love this quote from Hannah Whitall Smith. It is featured in the book, 100 Days of Grace for Women [published by Freeman-Smith].

I keep reading these words and visualizing my circumstances from the outside looking in.

Try doing this.

How many times did your mind wander from your visualization? Did you lose focus?

It requires the ability to be both patient and present, to tune out the clutter that normally distracts us, and tune in to what’s before us and in us.

In every spiritual text that we read we’re taught to be patient and to be present. We ignorantly avoid both instructions. They require stillness to not wander, faith to believe in better, strength to persevere, and courage to embrace the unknowns and face the fears that surface.

Yes, it’s difficult during trials and tribulations to stand in the presence of now, look around and see and feel the hurt and anguish that our present provides. But there’s no escaping it. All of the options of escape are not healthy and don’t allow us to live fully in our current bodies. We can attempt to run and hide, barely existing in a constant state of depression, a dark cloud surrounding us; we can try to escape through alcohol, drugs, and sex—all have temporary highs and long-lasting lows. The attempt of escape is wasted energy; it is futile; it is pure insanity. We will always be returned to our present, to the now, and faced with the reality of what is and isn’t. When we measure the pain of the trials and tribulations in comparison to the self-inflicted pain we bring upon ourselves through the constant acts of escapism, the wise can see that the latter is far more painful than the former—and oddly enough, the route of escapism takes much longer than had we just been patient in the present state of tribulation and waited for the gateway to be revealed to us so that we could walk from here to there without chaos. Our depression is caused by chaos from our past that was never resolved and healed. We’ve brought our past into our present, and if we don’t resolve it now we are destined to drag this bag of crap into our future—never escaping it, never being free, just allowing ourselves to be drained by it day after day until we take our last breath. Misery exemplified.

Spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle teaches that our past is only a series of moments that were at that time the “now”. They are no longer. We mentally and emotionally dial in and access those records to connect with what used to be. An occasional reference point is fine, especially if we learned lessons from that time. An attempt to dwell in that space means that we are no longer present in the now, our backs are turned and our focus is on what was and most likely will never be again, which is a waste of energy—-and steps closer to our spiritual and physical death.

You probably just gasped when you read those last words, but let’s consider something. What happens to all batteries that are drained of energy? They die.

If they aren’t rechargeable batteries, we discard them. That’s most of our batteries. Used up and tossed out. A great number of our batteries die from our improper use; we leave them engaged inside objects that we rarely use and those objects simply drain the batteries day after day, sometimes even forcing the battery to leak acid (creating a mess for us to clean up).

We leave batteries in flashlights, toys, kitchen gadgets, and the like. We don’t think to remove the batteries after we use the item and before we put it back in a drawer, closet, or container. We know that the battery will die at some point, but we still waste its life, unnecessarily, by leaving the batteries inside and walking away. We move forward to leave those batteries behind us, in our past, as we now focus on our new present. But that doesn’t stop the batteries from using energy, even at a reduced rate. They are still connected to a source that is slowly draining the batteries of energy.

We are like those batteries. Energy continues to be drained from us when we’re still connected to things from our past. Those sources still engage us and day by day we lose more and more energy. Because of improper use we drain too soon and just like those batteries, we’re removed—no recharging, just removed and not reused in the future; unless you believe

in reincarnation, but even then, you aren’t coming back in the same body picking up where you left off with friends, family, work projects, and goals. That life is the past.

We choose which sources we want to engage with. We can also choose to disconnect and go elsewhere. We can learn how to properly use and recharge our batteries.

Tolle also teaches that trying to keep our heads in the future for too long, (usually because we’re dreading our present and hopeful that the future has all that we don’t have in the now) is also harmful, because the future is not possible (it will not one day become our ‘now’ if we aren’t dialed into and focused on the current now.

We can cast a dream of a better tomorrow, but don’t get consumed by and lost in the dream. Smile upon it for small moments and then return to your present experience.

Be present.

Be in the “now” as Tolle teaches.

Looking at what is taking place right now, at this very moment, and not fixated on the past—and how we got to the present—or obsessed with a future that we hope is better than our present; but instead, just taking in our present and seeing it for what it is—an IS—and navigating through this present state as an observant and alert captain; not over-processing what is seen, heard, or felt; not trying to rush the moments to get to the next days; just being in the here and now, and at some point realizing that this inconvenience, this trial, this discomfort may just be a necessity so that your learned lesson may open a doorway or window to something else—possibly better, more comfortable, less trying.

Maybe.

But it’s not about looking for the doorway or window. It’s about being present, observant, emotionally in tuned, mentally decluttered, and not distracted. It’s about finding, realizing, and knowing who you are as a spiritual being. It’s about knowing that you are the “I Am” and that your ability to see and embrace the blessings in your present moment, to be grateful for even the smallest things, means that you are (or almost) prepared for what lies beyond the gateway, the door, the window. Then they will not only appear but you will see them, you will know what to do and when to do it, and then you will do it. There won’t be doubt. And even if fear rises up to resist, you will walk through the opening anyway, because you are ready—and you know it. But it’s not possible if you have one foot in the past, one in the present, and trying to dangle your arm into the future. That’s like trying to be in three rooms at the same time. You’re going absolutely nowhere and accomplishing absolutely nothing, while learning, at most, that you’re good at being stuck.

Our feet must be planted and sturdy in the now, in today, in this very moment—controlling our minds, not being controlled by them, connecting to and channeling the positive energy that flows around and through us, and letting go of the excess that would prevent us from one day before forward effortlessly.

Take care of today, today, or tomorrow you will be struggling with juggling the now and the past, while desperate for the future. What an insane merry-go-round that we choose to ride. Get off of the ride. Choose internal peace. Choose joy. Choose health and healing. Choose to be present.

You never know what gateways, doors, and windows may open for you.

~Natasha

Thanks to my sis-in-love Arleen for sending this to me yesterday. Please take a moment to pause, read, reflect, and fully ingest this message:

Source: Unknown

This is a call to action.

Get up, get out, live fully and intentionally, do something positively different, heartfelt, encouraging and inspiring. What are you waiting for? Bye!

~Natasha

Copyright 2018. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

There’s a quote by an anonymous author that perfectly describes the relationship between fear and faith. It reads:

Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was there“.

When we walk by faith, fear has no place near us let alone in us.

It’s like the deadbeat loser who rings your doorbell and sees through the window Mr./Ms. Awesome walking towards the door to answer. Deadbeat loser isn’t going to wait and be confronted by awesomeness. Deadbeat loser doesn’t want to be further embarrassed by the lack he/she possesses, so they quickly run away from the front door and they dive into the nearby bushes to avoid detection. The deadbeat loser is no match for Mr./Ms. Awesome.

Since I was a small child I’ve been reciting the famous quote, “fear is false evidence appearing real” and in many instances I’m able to face my fears and walk through a situation. There are some instances that involve creepy crawly bugs where I haven’t yet walked with faith to stare down those fears. But I’m getting there [*smile*].

There are times in my professional world as well as in my personal life where I’ve allowed fear to conquer and enslave me. I’ve been running from some major fears for the past few years and now they have grown so large, and I’ve been running for so long, that I’m tired of running. I wasn’t made to be a punk. I wasn’t raised to be a punk. So why am I acting and living like one? Fear is a punk yet I’m allowing it to have dominion over me, how idiotic is that?

Yesterday, I finally made the decision to stop running and to instead turn around and walk towards my fears. I’ve decided to face each and every one of these fears that have been chasing me.

What’s the worst possible outcome of my challenge? I know for a fact that none of my fear bullies come with a death penalty, so maybe I get a few bumps and bruises, or I fall down and get injured—all that I need to do is get back up, brush myself off, and keep on swinging (translation: “fighting”). I have enough faith to believe that I can at least do that. I’m not sure if I will be victorious but I’m willing to fight anyway. “…Faith of a mustard seed…” isn’t that the minimum of what Jesus said we need?

Fear is like kryptonite, it’s present and part of the environment that we occupy but if not managed and properly handled, it can destroy you.

When we walk with faith in our heart and mind we have a reinforced armor of hope, courage, and confidence. Fear can’t handle faith. Fear can’t penetrate that armor. The only way that fear can conquer us is if we take off the armor or never wear it.

So rather than continuing to run from our fears, why don’t we put on our armor and walk towards our fears! That my friends, was a statement not a question. Consider taking at least one step today and see if you can get a reaction from the deadbeat loser who’s standing at your door.

Have a super awesome day!

~Natasha

Copyright 2018. Natasha L. Foreman. All Rights Reserved.

Audio Message

What I’ve shared below can also be heard through this audio message. Click play and enjoy.

I’m sitting here at my desk reflecting.

My reflection is focused upon my life, specifically my love life.

I’m a romantic. I’ve always been. I don’t need the big and grandiose. I love the simple things in life and love. Oftentimes it’s the smallest of gestures that have the biggest impacts, the smallest packages can contain the best of gifts—and that, for me, brings me the greatest joy. A handbag has a price tag and can be damaged, lost, stolen, sold, or given away; sitting by my bedside holding my hand, rubbing my head, kissing me and telling me that all will be well, while I’m in the hospital fighting fear and whatever else—that’s priceless and can never be damaged, lost, stolen, sold, or given away. That time, attention and affection is for me and only me. That is precious and everlasting in my heart and mind.

(more…)