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Slavery did a number on black people. We haven’t survived it yet.
I find it funny that, at funerals, all dead people go to Heaven, regardless of how they lived. Perhaps this is black people’s way of rewarding themselves simply for having been black and survived—even for a while.
But the reason black people hate black people is ’cause white people made us hate ourselves.”
Slavery been over.” “No it ain’t. Not in our minds. We didn’t start this mess about light skin versus dark skin and all that shit. They started that. We just inherited it.”
“Don’t nobody live in the past, man! The point of history is to tell you how to live in the future. So people don’t make the same mistakes over and over.”
Hurt is worse than anger, you know. Anger dwells in the head, then fades. Hurt lingers in the soul. It rearranges your feelings without your permission. It blinds you.
No one should diminish themselves to prove their love.
Just remember that, although we were flawed, we were marvelous, too.
We get used to it, the weight of pain, and when it threatens to go, we sometimes hold on to it for dear life. But there’s no joy while it lingers near.
A man’s son is his truth unadorned. When he can look at him and be proud, his fatherhood is complete.
You must learn to uproot unwanted seeds without destroying the entire harvest.
