Don't be alarmed by the sista with the backside of a Stallion, onion, bunion or whatever the latest homage to the booty is these days. This is her shining moment, on the corner of Washington and Crenshaw during peek hour traffic. For obvious reasons, she is more than going out of her way to make certain her top rests on the small of her back. Thank heavens for camera phones and my girl Kharyns' slick angle for the shot, because seeing is believing. You see, this was one of the many jaw dropping moments we shared at my annual 30th birthday party while eating Kahlua cake and telling each other how good we all look for our varied pretend ages.
Mad jokes with a coupon for spanks on a warm valley Saturday night in the City of Angels.
We laughed and packed plates with leftovers, snapped some photos and argued over which "Auntie" my son Cassius is more fond of. Come 12:30am, Cash and I were headed back to "The Aves" of S. Central to settle in as I reflected on yet another wonderful year I am most grateful to live to tell. As I continued to reflect on my life, another woman's fate would make headlines just two days later, but not in the City of Angels. In the dark cold mountains of Malibu. According to a French ornithologist (who was researching why the Owls were dying in that region) described Malibu as the "place of the sick Owls". Turns out, these beautiful mystic creatures were dying and no one knew why.
Mad jokes with a coupon for spanks on a warm valley Saturday night in the City of Angels.
We laughed and packed plates with leftovers, snapped some photos and argued over which "Auntie" my son Cassius is more fond of. Come 12:30am, Cash and I were headed back to "The Aves" of S. Central to settle in as I reflected on yet another wonderful year I am most grateful to live to tell. As I continued to reflect on my life, another woman's fate would make headlines just two days later, but not in the City of Angels. In the dark cold mountains of Malibu. According to a French ornithologist (who was researching why the Owls were dying in that region) described Malibu as the "place of the sick Owls". Turns out, these beautiful mystic creatures were dying and no one knew why.
The Ventureño Chumash Indians were the aboriginal people, whom like many other natives were wiped out for pennies on the dollar for land control. No wonder the owls were getting sick. Too wise for their own good... any creature who sees in 360 degrees is bound to be vulnerable. They bring new meaning to The Hills Have Eyes and in the case of Mitrice Richardson, I'm willing to bet more than the owls saw what happened to her on that dark night last September.
On August 9th, 2010 human remains were found in the Malibu Mountains which would later be identified as Mitrice Richards. I remember seeing the news of her disappearance almost a year ago and like most of us, felt a kind of way... then. Nothing really added up, but one thing was certain. A black woman was missing and equivocating police officers were the last people to see her alive. Regrettably, a grim outcome would be the fate for this beautiful daughter and friend.
Malibu. One of the darkest places in LA both literally and figuratively. The ocean at night swallows the moon and the sound of the crashing waves can be both therapeutic and haunting. The Chumash Indians called the mouth of the Malibu Creek "Humaliwo" meaning, the surf sounds loudly. You could ask them for yourself if they, like millions of other natives, were still alive to speak of their beautiful folklore and traditions. Today, Malibu is for the wealthy families with deep pockets', hit film producers, Hollywood's elite and rolling hills of secrets and conspiracy. This young black woman will share her resting place with the thousands of Chumash Indians, who like Mitrice, trusted the wrong men.
Places like Paradise Cove was known to have been sacred Indian burial grounds like many other parts of Malibu, which is why most brown and black folks are cool on setting up shop there. We just know better. Besides, the mudslides ain't really the move. I digress. See... the woman on the bike and images of the like that are emblazoned into the psyche of white Americas conservatives can make them less than enthusiastic; about getting to the bottom of the obvious foul play re: someone like Mitrice Richardson. I'm all for liberation and sexual abandon, but all women pay for big booty girls on a bike. Don't get me wrong; the biker chick is not to blame, but the objectification certainly doesn't inspire the cops to grab a flashlight and a few dogs to look into the deep brush of the Malibu mountains. Perhaps... there was nothing to look for because they themselves know what went bump in the night. Either way, there will be one less black girl, coming to my neighborhood tonight. One less black girl who will mother a child. One less black girl who will make her mark in the world. But one more black girl who lay naked and dead in the cold of the night. Alone.
No wonder the owls die... they know whooooo.
For details re: Mitrice Richardson's case, see the family website. Let's pray for peace beyond understanding for the Richardson family and justice for Mitrice.
http://www.bringmitricehome.org/
2 comments:
You've gone to a whole 'notha level with your writing. This was beyond.
Ernest just took the words out of my mouth! Glad u are up and writing again and shedding light on us ALL. Great!
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