Buzzing louder than usual, the tardy bell rings the moment I reach my Algebra class door. Looking me square in the face, the teacher closed the door. Franticly knocking and twisting at the locked door. No one came. And within seconds his cold masculine hand wrapped around my throat, as my feet began to dangle above ground, he firmly pressed my teenage body against the wall. With a deep chillin’ voice he said, “I better never see you walkin’ with another nigga, again.”

Back then I didn’t know it, but I’d ‘soul tied’ myself to a monster-
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Over 30 years later and after a much needed workout in Aurora, Colorado I engaged in much needed dialogue with my friend, Rhi @trueartistrhimack. In the midst of conversation, I always ask about the national playwright, Laterras R. Whitfield @laterrasrwhitfield. But this time it wasn’t how he was doing; it was what he was doing. He’s doing what he does best. Creating ‘Outside the Box’ Planting seeds. Gaming the game. Empowering. Changing lives on his, ‘Dear Future Wifey Podcast’. He’s LIT ‘Living Intentionally and Transparently’ a phrase he’s coined. Everyone is LIT, huni! I’m here for his journey to discover, uncover, and recover love. Oh, and the love letters he reads at the end of each episode.

​But what does all this mean? What’s the purpose? He candidly explains everything. To find out click the YouTube link Dear Future Wifey. Then subscribe. Then binge watch. So, why did I begin with such a violent story, my story. After watching “Abstain to Gain”, season 2 episode 201 with Lestine Bell, it was reflection time. Time to look back at the root of my pain. The toxic relationship that changed my life forever. A soul tie that would impact my future relationships and way of thinking. Both my parents were actively present in my home. I’m sure they had some disagreements, but I never heard them. But for damn sure I never saw them physically fight. So, I knew I wasn’t staying in this mess. But he made sure I’d leave tarnished for life. I left a teenage rape victim. Now I’d forgiven this guy years ago, but the damage and residue lingered long after. Unknowingly, I took pieces of his darkness with me; all because of a damn soul tie. I was ‘Damaged Goods’. With God, a little therapy, and through the passing of years I’m 90% healed.

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​​So, I ask the questions: ● When we see red flags popping up, why do we stay? Or better yet, why do we even get involved with that man or woman? ● If we know sexual soul ties can link us to the wrong person, why do we engage in it? ● Why not practice abstinence to avoid the possible headache? ● Hell, is there such a thing as an unscathed love? If you know please share. If not, we can discover, uncover, and recover love with Laterras R. Whitfield on the “Dear Future Wifey Podcast”,
To find out click the YouTube link Dear Future Wifey below. Then Subscribe.


By Tonika Yvonne Wheeler

​Pass the Texas state lines through Oklahoma – Kansas - Nebraska across the United States to the PA, we go.  The only thing moving across state lines in masses are semi-trucks, and ours happens to be one. Everywhere, 18 wheels burning up and down the byways and highways to restock store shelves, that were gutted in the matter of seconds, in grocery stores before the good people of the United States start pillaging for food and toilet tissue. As we maneuver across the nation, comparing the aggressiveness of each states’ shelter-in-place order, tumbleweeds blow across abandoned streets in some cities resembling ghost towns. Some cities, however, appear lax like a college student’s spring break; despite, the number of infectious cases rising beyond 397,000 and the growing death rate climbing beyond 12,000 in the United States. Some cynics refuse to stay home. Why is it difficult to stay-at-home knowing it helps reduce the spread of COVID-19? Are we doing enough to protect ourselves and others? Will the federal government step in to protect us from ourselves?
Paul LeBlanc, CNN,  www.cnn.com reports Dr. Anthony Fauci saying, “I don’t understand why every state hasn’t issued stay-at-home orders.” 
Although we can freely move about for essentials, you might be feeling overwhelmed with anxiety, hopelessness, boredom, or even frustration; feeling imprisoned within the walls of your own home; shelter-in-place, echoes home confinement – house arrest – lockdown. Going out to grab essentials resonant yard time.  To us, 14-days quarantine sounds more like solitary confinement. These agonizing feelings are balled up and fueling the flames in the pit of our stomachs, as our freedom is slowly being ripped away. These emotions are enough to
cause anyone to rebel against a stay-at-home order. You may contemplate being selfish. You contemplate listening to the little person standing on your left shoulder screaming, “Rebel!”, regardless of the lives it could save. ​

Updated: Since writing this article, COVID-19 has claimed the lives of over 65,000 people, with over 1.13 million cases. From Diddy’s Black America & Coronavirus Town Hall, news reports, and Oprah’s talks on OWN and Apple TV about coronavirus’ impact on the African American Community, it is clear that COVID-19 has drastically hit the Black community. 
From The Root
The disproportionate number of black people who are dying from the coronavirus disease continues to grow.

Deborah Gatewood, a 63-year-old healthcare worker who lived and worked in Michigan, died earlier this month from COVID-19 complications. Her daughter is now speaking out about what she describes as the “disheartening” treatment—or lack thereof—her mother got from the hospital she visited no less than four times before her death, seeking help that she ultimately did not receive. Gatewood had worked at that same hospital for 31 years.

Deborah Gatewood’s story is heartbreaking, yet, it is not new to the Black community. Her story had a voice. But how many of the voiceless have succumbed to COVID-19 for the same reason? I’m certain, we’ll never know the answer. And, if numbers surfaced the truth would lay somewhere in between. 
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Brilliance...Beauty...Black. How can you not love this?! Nevertheless. My cousin
was told repeatedly as a child, “You think you’re white.” You think you’re better
than us.” And I believed it because I remember at times being asked, “Why she
talk like that?”
To be honest I’d said it once or twice. But not because of the extensive vocabulary
nor the proper enunciation of words. It was because of that damn BABY TALK.
“Grrrr!” LOL. “Here she go! She’s going to get her way, AGAIN.” Yes, I was hating
because she got her way with her baby talk. But I still admired and adored her.
Could she have made better choices? Absolutely. If she’d known my admiration
for who she was and how others looked up to her, would that have changed some
of her decisions? Maybe. Maybe not. Still, I wish she’d expressed her feelings
before she’d made life changing decisions. Behind my lens was someone that
had everything. Behind hers, she felt she did not have her blackness; she wasn’t
black enough, she didn’t fit into the black box – the black brand – nor the white
box.

 Click here to read:

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​In childhood your blackness being challenged can be devastating, not so much in
your adulthood. As a child you’re on the journey of self-discovery; you’re still
trying to find your true identity. “Where do I fit in?” “Who am I?” If your
observation of your black surroundings - - our black community - - your black
family that’s questioning your blackness, is smothered in a life of criminal activity
your direction can be smoky and suffocating. Unable to see clearly, you’ll kick
into survival mode, fight or flight. Either you’ll fly into your true identity or fight
to prove you’re black enough.

How many of us have dimmed our light, failed to excel, pretended to be
something we weren’t because we were trying to fit into the puzzle that we
considered our blackness – our black box? What is being black? Who defined
blackness? And, why must our blackness be dressed in poor grammar,
government assistance, and criminalization? Why does it have to be untalented,
uneducated, and uncouth? And who the hell told us that if it didn’t look like this
it wasn’t black? And why did we fall for it? Did we fall into the Willie Lynch trap or
have Stockholm syndrome? If so, how the hell do we get out of it? Are we crabs
in the bucket, afraid of being left behind? Are we our people’s worst enemy,
wanting them to fail because you fear stepping out of your comfort zone?
Why do we allow others’ opinions of us to influence how we move through life?
My cousin hid brilliance behind the walls of the penitentiary. I hid my talents deep
within, journaling in a hidden notebook. How many are behind prison walls
because they didn’t feel black enough or questioned, “Who am I?”How many gifts
are hidden in the pages of a notebook, afraid of being different or being judged?
Why do we hide our gifts?