Wednesday, December 17, 2025
Tuesday, December 16, 2025
NEW BIRTH I SEE MY #EUNUCH!!! #RENDER IS BACK!!! #AYE
December 7th #Prayer
Without Him
"I can't hear you"
Michelle Obama #Response "Attacked for how I look"
Michelle did not help matters
Thank you for that #Verification
I Don’t See Anything Funny
I went to bed last night hoping my phone wouldn’t work.
It did.
And in that moment, it reminded me exactly why I left Chicago.
On December 13, 2025, I posted Truth or Dare, featuring photos of Michelle Obama from Dawn’s birthday surprise for me at UIC. Michelle came first. Then Barack followed at CSU. That history is real. What I chose to do, however, was let it go.
I chose to forget my history with the Obamas everything I did for, with, and around that chapter of my life. Including advocating for a presidential library to be built across from the very school my son once attended before his life was taken. That choice wasn’t weakness. It was survival.
So let me be clear: this post is not about conspiracy, gossip, or spectacle. It is about symbols, messages, and memory.
I’m a mature adult. The “Black Power” message that once meant everything to me has changed over time. What once represented unity and strength now feels diluted rebranded, commercialized, layered with meanings that no longer resonate with my lived experience. The power shifted. The colors changed. And so did my perspective.
When I reference words, images, or statements, I do so as interpretation, not accusation. Anyone who understands history knows that children often sense what adults try to keep hidden. That’s not a claim it’s a truth of human nature.
Michelle Obama once spoke publicly about me being scrutinized for my appearance. That resonated with me. Women, especially Black women, are constantly judged before they’re heard.
"How dare you, when you have exploited your role, office, position and power for personal gains, and you wonder why I refuse to acknowledge you, joking in fans faces about Reiner, just like you did to me with my son.
Obama's presidency is bitter sweet to me, just another day in the office. You want to take credit for who I am, but Trump raised me, which is why you hate me so much, my apologies I have nothing to say to you, I just wanted to see if you would respond, you did with yet another "sacrifice".
I stopped responding to Michelle after she failed to appear at President Carters funeral. That was for the "fans section" back to work!!!
ATTENTION: " Did anyone hear her order for "Molly"? Please fill that prescription, she is in Los Angeles looking for "Molly"
But when public narratives collide with personal memory, it can be unsettling. Sometimes responses arrive quickly not because they are directed at us personally, but because timing has a way of reopening doors we thought were closed.
So no, I don’t find this funny.
I find it exhausting.
I find it symbolic.
And I find it affirming of why I stepped away.
This is not about fandom or hate. It’s about discernment. About recognizing when something no longer aligns with your spirit and choosing peace instead of proximity.
I’m not here to sacrifice myself or anyone else on the altar of public perception.
I’m here to tell my truth, as I experienced it, and to stand firm in my decision to move forward.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Dawn aka Malia
Chevy aka Sasha
Monday, December 15, 2025
END WORKPLACE ABUSES
Abusive bosses hold the keys to workers' peace.
They can boost their employees up or keep them down through hostility, intimidation, and threats.
Who's holding them accountable? No one.
We need a law.
Sign the petition: https://endworkplaceabuse.com/sign-the-petition/
#EndWorkplaceAbuse
CPTSD IS REAL!!! IT'S OK NOT TO BE OK
I’m not just tired. I’m trauma tired. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t touch, that coffee can’t cure, that silence can’t soothe. It’s a deep ache that lives in the bones, a heaviness that settles in the soul.
My body carries years of fight or flight, CPTSD, anxiety, depression, and exhaustion from always having to be “okay” when I wasn’t. It’s like living in a body that has forgotten what safety feels like.
Every sound feels like a warning, every day feels like a test, and even peace feels temporary like something that’ll be taken away the moment I get used to it. Most days, I’m not lazy. I’m just drained. Completely.
My mind is tired of surviving, my heart is tired of pretending, and my body is tired of holding everything together. It’s like my soul keeps whispering, “I can’t take anymore,” but somehow I still get up, still move, still try. I show up even when I’m breaking quietly inside.
I smile even when I’m too numb to feel it. I keep breathing even when it feels like a chore. And maybe that’s the real strength no one talks about surviving what tried to destroy you, even when it left you permanently tired.
So if all you did today was exist, if all you managed was to keep going despite the heaviness, that’s enough. You’re not weak for feeling broken, you’re brave for continuing anyway.
One breath, one moment, one small step at a time; that’s how healing begins.
I KNOW YOU MISS ME ... (repost)
Show me one Black man from my past who respects me for who I am. I'll wait. The fastest way to turn me off is a man who thinks with his dick. One of my greatest challenges has been sifting through the people in my life and realizing how many came with ulterior motives.
I raised my own children, and I am proud to be a child of God. I respect different beliefs as long as they do not violate mine. Being in front of a camera is not a priority, but when granted a platform, it will be used to shed light on truth, not ignorance.
It may seem strange to those who live entitled lives, but I cook, clean, do my own laundry, and cherish family time over impressing people who don’t give a damn. As a content creator, I craft fantasy, tell stories, and explore the world.
Lisa McCoy has never impressed me. Spreading lies about my appearance only reveals her own insecurity. Lost in ignorance, she struggles to justify why Kenji picked me. In Scottie’s mind, The Players Club is about him, but that could be Kenji Pace, Bobby Brown, or Gary Payton. Lisa is lost trying to compete with me over men. I’m not trying to be like her; she is obsessed with me.
I am not a cocaine junkie. I am not materialistic. I do not need to demean another person to elevate myself. My privileged upbringing, private education at St. James in Maywood, IL, and Immaculate Heart of Mary in Westchester, IL, along with growing up in a house filled with celebrities, has given me a different perspective. I may be Black, I may not fit your beauty standards, but I am still the one you envy. Yes, I am his baby mama—not a surrogate. I raised my own.
I am not a lesbian. I am not a boy. I laugh at females who push agendas but cannot control their emotions. I am not a drag queen using my siblings to birth my children. I am a real woman. I have not had sex and will not engage with someone unsure of their identity. I do not date men in religion or politics. I am not your mother—if you’re a mama’s boy or a daddy’s toy, miss me with the drama.
Stop booking me just to show me off to your friends. You may joke about me being your slave, but be careful—I just might buy your home and force you to buy it back at a higher price, or worse, I might live a more luxurious life right in front of you. Relax—you are not the first fool to be exposed. Many of these terminations are connected to government entities that had a hand in all of this.
Scottie was served. Trying to serve Larsa? That’s another story. If I were hateful, I wouldn’t remind him, but the truth is, he started beating Larsa after DJ’s murder. That makes her a key planner, given all she risked losing once DJ was revealed. Look at Chicago, Cook County, and even the Governor’s office—panicked, trying to cover up what they know.
After all, I ran for Alderman of the 7th Ward in 2015.
I am most famously known as Dr. King’s secret child, and my childhood best friend was Janet Jackson. My life will never be normal.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
