Made To Suck Dick

About four or five years ago, I met Newton during a theatre rehearsal. He was an intellectual and so it was rather easy to speak to him, and yet, over the years, our “friendship” deteriorated as his “failings” grotesquely manifested, and I came to discern his ugliness. Those things I tolerated at first, eventually became unbearable as I came to despise this Afro-German who seemingly could identify with black. Unfortunately, however, he was not authentic as his “blackness” was more rhetorical than it was consequential. In the end, he was another con-artist that had only learned the words to flatter, please and appease non-whites, whilst essentially functioning, thinking and operating, as a white person would, adopting their ideas, and utilising their perspective, to make sense out of the experience of others, and relate to the wider world (people.) At this juncture, before we delve a little deeper, is worth noting a little bit extra about Newton. Newton is an anti-sexual. He was brought up in care, and lived amongst white people for an extended duration. He informed me that this fostering often adversely impacted upon his perspective. In time, I lost the capacity to have faith in this fallen idol and I came to see him clearly. Like many older people, people whom I reluctantly refer to as adults, I came to realise the inconsistencies in, and with him, when he failed to follow through on his promises. Like so many, he was not able to keep his word, and so, his disguise wore thin. I lost “faith” in him, as the worship of heroes diminished as I came to realise he was “all too typical.” All his congruent efforts were rendered meaningless.

He spoke a good game, and gave the impression that he had a plan, but in the end, there was no direction, and with that, little to offer in the way of guidance. His conclusions were really suggestions that he was still attempting to finalise, meaning that his conjectures were rarely more than guesswork, whilst his probing reflected detective efforts with poor foundations. Like so many older people, he was pathetic, and yet, the thing that came to trouble me most about him was his nasty side which surfaced as soon as I failed to “respect” him. He came to be more concerned with having “respect”, or better yet, “obedience”, than coming good on his word, which he didn’t seem so concerned with honouring. It was rather ridiculous. Although I had initially imagined that his assurance was reliable, and that with him, and perhaps through him, I would be able to go somewhere with my intellect, in the end, it didn’t work out. An early warning sign was surely upon my release from prison. I explained to him the process with which I was abducted and yet, rather than realise the total context of white domination, as a white person would 9vigilantee-gatekeeper) he claimed that there was something “wrong” with me. (Whites typically employ this type of fragmenting thinking to pathologise the people who respond to the violence of domination, so as to minimalise the idea of external, material revolt occurring.) Rather than immediately address himself to correct and investigating the injustice of false imprisonment, which itself, was of little consequence in comparison to the wider violence of white domination, he devoted himself to a disorder aspect of a situation, and read into it his own absurdity.

At another time, I remember informing him that I required “disability living allowance” and yet, his simply ignored, by-passed, marginalised and belittled this suggestion by claiming that it was so little money, it would not be worth pursuing, only to later, when we were in conflict, suggest that there was something fundamentally “different” about the way in which I viewed – and responded to – the world, which meant that I should be eligible for disability. Form this, I realised two things. I sensed that he thought I was applying so that I would have some extra money, as some type of expedient, malingering measure, as opposed to applying out of a desire to gain additional resources required to manage the world, and environment. Also, it occurred that unlike myself, he did not see me as a “disabled” person, which meant that, failing this; he did not realise, or appreciate, the severity of the degree to which I’m handicapped by others. Most importantly, it was the first time I came to realise his whiteness for only when I challenged, upset and opposed him, did he see me as a troubled person in need of additional support and existence. In other words, the second I challenged him, immediately, I was brandished a sick one. His greatest crime however, came, when I needed him most. The Housing Team were being duplicitous and criminal, inventing tales about me refusing to engage with the surface, and yet, rather than see the situation for what it was, he took their side, and claimed that if I did not buckle up, I would be pending eviction. I was disappointed that he would side with evil, and yet, as I concluded many years ago, any older person that can be alive today, with the regime still in place as it is, long ago, sided with the system. In comparison, every other failing of his was inconsequential.

In reflecting on his mediocrity, I recall one of the final meetings with him where I decided to play a role and see how he responded to it. I told him that I had given up on trying to make a career for myself, through the application of my intelligence, and informed him that I had turned to drug-dealing, and yet, he was not horrified. Despite all his years of claiming that I would find a way, make a breakthrough, and ultimately get somewhere, upon hearing this, he simply conceded that there was no other work out there for non-whites, short of these dealings. He accepted that this was the fate I was to live and be subject to, and he simply told me that I should watch out, so as to not get caught, even if he was less concerned with me, owing to my intelligence. It was painfully pathetic. All this time he had been there whispering in my ear, and assuring me that something would happen, and even encouraging me when noting materialised, and yet, when I took initiative and created this fictitious scenario, I saw his true colours. In many ways, like sexual predators, he was simply an opportunist, in as much as he was pleasing when the persona suited the situation, when in reality; it was not his natural pattern. He was a sick person that attempted to get close to me in order to persuade and influence me, when in truth; his illness would only subvert my stable thought patterns. I realise that he attempted to subvert my reality, and undermine my loyalties, and yet, the thing which hurt the most is that, to a great extent, I did trust him. I trusted him to want the best for me, if not just better, and more than that, expecting moral fortitude and integrity, I trusted him , and yet, like so many older people, he was resigned to his post in Capital, and like so many, so early on, he had been defeated, and therefore, divided.

About omalone1

I live I die I write
This entry was posted in Sick of being black and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Made To Suck Dick

  1. Onitaset says:

    That’s a talented piece right there. You have the emotion so perfectly maintained. You never get preachy, and it’s very focused. I don’t know whether [Newton] is real, but if nothing else that emotion is something to admire. Keep writing. For what it’s worth, you are talented.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s