Pages From My Skin

Thursday, January 21, 2010


On my way home from the Rebel Diaz Arts Collective, I saw this wall. I had just had a really dope night and spiritually was in a good place. Riding my bike home, I had to take a moment to reflect.

Damn...that could have been me. My life could have culminated in a R.I.P. mural. The most bugged out part was how I rode a few blocks further down to see "Anthony Baez Place." A street once named Cameron Place but renamed after a 29 year old who was killed by a police officer for continuing to play football in the street after cops ordered him & his brothers to stop. Thinking about this, I couldn't move. 2 signs in a row both signifying the death of someone holding my name. It was 2 or 3 in the morning. Made it really hard to go home.

To make things even more difficult, I saw a few officers walking by. This made me so nervous. Why did I need to feel that way? I started thinking about how my pops was shot by a correctional officer. I started thinking about the times I've had to pull over and have a cop say some stupid shit to me. I remember in High School, I was driving my girlfriend and a few friends to the movies when out of nowhere...some undercover DTs pulled me over asking, "You got any needles or crack pipes in there?" WTF!!!? They didn't even ask for my license and registration. All in all, I've definitely had more negative encounters with the police than positive. However, moments later, a cop car then pulls over alongside me upon me taking pictures of local graffiti in the area. They just had to stop and stare. So irritating. I eventually rode my bike home and wrote down the following affirmations:

"I feel more comfortable in the projects at 2am than I do near a police officer at 2pm."

"The only weapons I know more dangerous than guns are words."